9/5/16
(Labor Day), “Looking Back, Looking Forward”
Benito
Juarez International Airport, Federal District, Mexico (MEX)
“I’m
home.” It is a phrase I typically
reserve only for setting foot inside Olympic Stadiums, but this spot has become
almost as a home for me. Five times now
have I wrapped up a trip to Mexico by sitting in this spot and enjoying a pipe
or cigar as I write my reflective entry.
That is one of the things I love about my travels. It allows me to reflect. That is how we spent most of the day, looking
back at our trip and previous trips and looking forward to the future trips we
will take together. My own reflection
took me even further. It took me back to
my mother’s kitchen well over a decade ago, when we decided to try our hand at
making various forms of hot chocolate, including one that I very much enjoyed
called Mexican Chocolate. When we made it,
not once did I think I would ever be drinking it in Oaxaca, where it
originated. That is exactly what I did
this morning.
When I set out to see the
world, it was four simple goals, every US State, every US World Heritage Site,
every Canadian Province, and every Canadian World Heritage Site. It was only later that I would add the other
thirteen goals. That was four years ago,
and one year remains in this Travelogue.
I encourage my readers to do the math and consider the URL of the
publication of my travel blog. The first
time I travelled to Mexico during this quest, over three years ago, seeing all
32 (now 34) World Heritage Sites in Mexico seemed an impossible task, but I
figured that it would be doable if I took one or trips a year.
I slipped. It was almost two years before I would return to Mexico. That necessitated a mad rush to fit in the
remaining World Heritage Sites. A year
ago this weekend was the second trip I took here in 2015. Then, in January 2016, the Yucatan. This marks my second trip to Mexico of the
year, and the Borderlands next month, a trip I had been promising myself to
take every October for three years running now, will be the third trip to this
country of the year. Next year, and epic
trip to Baja California Sur will at long last allow me to say, “Mexico Complete.” There have been some great sites in the mix,
but, it’s all starting to look the same.
All the ruins are starting to look the same. All the Spanish cities are starting to look
the same. All the churches are starting
to look the same. All the cultural
landscapes are starting to look the same.
The next two trips will find some unique sites, especially since we will
be more focused on natural sites than cultural sites, and the Borderlands and
Baja should be markedly different from Central Mexico and the Yucatan. It is a great country, and I will miss it
after I have flown home from here for the last time in five months, but I will
certainly be able to take a great deal of pride in saying, “Mexico Complete.”
In fact, after I say that, all of my travels
to close out this Travelogue will take place entirely in northern North
America, by which I mean, the United States (including the South Pacific
islands), Canada, Iceland, and Greenland.
My trip to Hispaniola in January will close out the Caribbean (excluding
the US Territories in the same), and I have already completed all of Central
America besides Mexico. Looking back,
it’s been a great run, and I am very much looking forward to closing it out. So, time for the usual rhetorical
question. How did the day play out?
Well, almost the entire day was a giant
Munich Run. For my readers who don’t
recall the meaning of the term or were not privy to any prior uses, it refers
to the day when, three summers ago, I had to race across Germany to get to the
Munich Stadium before it closed at 8 PM, literally running across the Olympic
Park to arrive at the Stadium in time.
It entailed lots of traffic, which I had to offset by driving at insane
speeds on the Autobahn. In the end, I
arrived at the Stadium just as it was closing, but I was allowed to stay inside
for a few minutes to take my ceremonial pictures. It was one of the happiest moments of my life
when I set foot inside that Stadium.
Now, whenever I spend a day racing to arrive somewhere by a certain time,
I call it a Munich Run (or sometimes a Kotzebue Run after a similar race to get
to Kotzebue).
The issue today was, I had
an appointment with Mexican Immigration at the airport for 5:30 PM to get
enrolled in a special program that would allow me expedited entry through
border control during future trips. As
is my wont, I spent almost the entire viciously calculating the times we would
need to leave each point in order to make that appointment. Working backwards, I figured we wanted leave
Monte Alban at 10:30 AM, which meant we needed to leave Oaxaca at 9:00 AM,
which meant we needed to leave our hotel at 8:30 AM. We were right on schedule to leave the hotel
at 8:30 AM, but we didn’t have time for breakfast. My reader will need to take note of
that.
We stopped at a food cart where I
got a Mexican Chocolate, the very same drink I mentioned earlier. It was even better than it was in my mom’s
kitchen a decade ago, but it brought back all the memories. I lit up a Romeo y Julieta, and we made our
way to the church to take our ceremonial pictures. Roberto stopped for food, and I tried to get
an espresso at the place he got his fruit.
They said they didn’t have espresso, only Café Americano. My readers may recall that I hate Café
Americano. Contrary to popular belief,
it is not what we drink in America, which is called drip coffee or filter
coffee. It is espresso mixed with hot
water to a strength similar to American-style drip coffee. It is always too hot, and I hate it.
My readers will need to pardon my French, but
HOW THE FUCK CAN THEY HAVE CAFÉ AMERICANO BUT NOT ESPRESSO?!? I asked for it in perfect Spanish, and yet,
they claimed they did not have it. HOW
IS THIS POSSIBLE? I hoped against hope
that she actually meant drip coffee. No
such luck. I watched as they put hot
water into a cup and poured espresso into the same cup. All I wanted was the espresso without that
hot water. I refused to believe that
that was not possible. It was awful, and
I had to pour it out. We were pressed
for time, so I just wanted to get to the church.
We got there and took our ceremonial pictures
at the Plaque, at the church, and with the city. It looked much the same as all the other famous,
historic churches and cities I have visited in Central Mexico. It was time to say it. “Central Mexico Complete.” We then headed back to the hotel, stopping at
proper coffee shop this time, which was able to make espresso. I asked for a double espresso, then requested
instead an Oaxacan Mocha, which was basically a double espresso mixed with
Mexican Chocolate. It was perfect.
We made our way back to the hotel, and, by
the time we checked out and got to the car, it was 9:30 AM. I figured we could get to Monte Alban by 10
AM, which would still be good for time.
I figured wrong. We hit Monday
morning rush hour leaving the city.
Roberto assured me that we would only need 30 minutes at Monte
Alban.
However, 30 minutes at the ruins
probably meant an hour from the time we parked the car to the time we got back
into the car, which would mean an 11:30 AM departure from Monte Alban, which
would be cutting it way too close for my 5:30 PM appointment at the
airport. We arrived at Monte Alban at
10:30 AM, but it was tiny. It was
actually looking like an 11 AM hard departure was doable. We took our ceremonial picture at the Plaque,
and then I lit up an Hoyo de Monterrey as we headed to the spot of the
inscription photo.
It was a short walk. We were soon there, and we took our
ceremonial picture as close to the spot the inscription was taken as
possible. That was it. We headed back, and I loaded up on souvenirs
at the stands outside. We were somehow
able to be back in the car at 11 AM. The
5:30 PM appointment was looking doable.
There was only one stop on the way, the nominated site of the
Tehuacan-Cuicatlan Biosphere Reserve, which was slated to be inscribed next
summer. Stopping there for a ceremonial
picture would save an emergency trip there in August. My readers will also recall that I did not
have breakfast, and I have not mentioned time to stop for lunch. It was going to be a Munich Run all
right. Well, we hit a snag. A big snag.
The highway was closed due to protesters, and we would need to take a
slow and circuitous side road for 70 klicks.
That could add an hour to our drive.
That seemed to put pay to my 5:30 PM appointment. I lit up an LFD, and braced for the
worst. When we finally got back on the
highway, Google Maps was saying a 6 PM arrival at the airport. That was a soft arrival. I would need more time to get to the
enrollment office once we arrive at the airport. Roberto drove as quickly as possible, and I
had absolute trust in him, so I took a nap.
He managed to shave some time off the drive, and the 6 PM arrival also
factored in an accident that would surely be cleared up by the time we got to
that point.
We were soon crossing the
border into Puebla, at which point the Biosphere Reserve would be off to the
side of the road. I thought there was a
way to drive into it, but there was not, just a pullout where we could see the
beautiful, scenic landscape. We stopped
there, and I thought I saw a hiking path, but it was blocked by cacti. There was barbed wire fence, which I assumed
marked the boundary of the Biosphere Reserve.
My goal here was just to make it so that, when it gets inscribed, I feel
that my existing visit was sufficient to avoid having to come back. I lit up a Cohiba, and I put my foot under
the barbed wire so that I was, quite literally, setting foot in the Biosphere
Reserve. That was enough. We took some ceremonial pictures, and we were
on our way.
Roberto continued driving as
quickly as possible. I then heard
something fall out of my pocket to the side of the car, and I thought it was my
keys. We were at a toll plaza, so I
asked Roberto to pull over.
Fortuitously, we pulled over right at a convenience store on the side of
the road, where we got sandwiches, snacks, and drinks. It was as quick of a lunch as
imaginable. My keys were actually a
different pocket, and it was just a coin that fell out.
We got back on the road, now looking at a
soft 5:45 PM arrival at the airport. I
figured that being 15 minutes late for the appointment would be okay, but I needed
to be at the enrollment office at 5:45 PM, not just at the airport at that
time. Roberto kept racing, and he kept
shaving time off our ETA. Soon enough,
it looked like a 5:30 PM arrival time was actually manageable. I lit up an AVO, which is my traditional last
cigar for the last drive of the trip. We
were about to turn to the airport, and all was looking good, but then we missed
the turn. All seemed lost, but the
detour actually was not significant.
I
wound up getting to the enrollment office at 5:40 PM, and there was no
issue. They interviewed me, scanned my
irises, took my fingerprints, and enrolled my passport. I was now Officially signed up with Viajero
Confiable. Excelente. We had plenty of time to get dinner before my
flight, so I chose the best Mexican restaurant in the capital, but, well, due
to road closures, we got there after it closed at 6:30 PM, which raised the
question of why a dinner restaurant would close at 6:30 PM.
Instead, we went to Mexico’s oldest
restaurant, a place where I went last year when I came to Mexico City last
time. It brought back good
memories. I ordered a Dos Equis and
recreated my famous “He is the most interesting man in the world” post. We ordered chicharones and quesadillas to
share as appetizers and then each got a chile en nogada, an iconic dish, for
our main course. Andy Murray was on TV,
so I enjoyed watching that tennis match.
We looked back and looked forward as we enjoyed our last meal of the
trip.
The chiles en nogadas were way too
much food, and we couldn’t finish them.
We got the check, and I was about to leave when two things
happened. One, the pianist started
playing “The Impossible Dream”, and I couldn’t resist singing a few bars. Two, Andy Murray had match point, so I wanted
to watch the rest of the match. He lost
that game but won the next one on serve, so we left after my espresso, which I
had ordered after he lost the first game.
It was then time to head to the airport.
We stopped for gas and to clean out the car, and then we returned it to
Hertz. We soon said our goodbyes at the
same place we met on Saturday. “54
days,” we said. In 54 days, we will be
reuniting at this airport for our trip to the Borderlands. It has been a great trip, and I am looking
forward to our next one. On that note, I
will close so that I can publish and begin The Return Journey.
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