I thought I was completely ready to take on Mexico in all of my lonely gringa glory until I stepped out of a red, jerky taxi, backpack in tow, in front of my $11 find, Hotel Amparo. As it turns out, I am not invincible to the normal Travel worries. That first day in Veracruz, I took a dip into the tourism office, and passed the rest of the scorching daylight hours walking unfamiliar streets, map in hand, trying to cover my strangeness with lowered eyelids and dark clothing. I was starving after a couple hours and ate alone in a tiny street cafe promising antojitos (snacks). I ordered a quesadilla which consisted of a corn tortilla folded with spicy tomatoe sauce and a sprinkling of cheese. I kept wonderingto myself, “What am I doing here? ” After 15 hours of sleep in my own sweat owing to the lack of air conditioning in tropical Veracruz, I awoke to a renewed level of comfort and sense of adventure as my seeping exhaustion melted away.

I walked 3 km along the malecón (rambla for those who read about Montevideo, waterfront sidewalk for everyone else) to reach the famous aquarium. Then I went to the naval musum, and finally staked my seat in the ever lively Zócolo (central plaza) with a book and an ice-cream cone. This is prime people watching territory replete with street musicians, locals (jarochos), and tourists from all over the world. I talked to a polish sea-man for about an hour until he returned to port. He’d been all over the world, but always as a stranger. I love to travel, but I’m not sure I would want to pass such short stints in exotic locales, never soaking in a bit of the culture.

In the late afternoon, some men in white shirts began to set up chairs in a horseshoe pattern around the plaza and atop a stage in the center. Soon enough, a band dressed in identical white button down shirts, pressed white pants, and gleaming shoes to match filled the chairs on the stage. The plaza became very crowded with onlookers as the band began to play, and anyone who knew how danced the danzón surrounded by the horshoe of plastic chairs. An gray old man near me swayed to the latin rhythm and after exchanging grins, he asked me to dance. of course I turned him down. Much to the chagrin of most of the Mexicans I´ve met so far, dancing just isn’t my thing.

A young man came over and started talking to me about the book I’d been pretending to read for hours. The title is “Geek Love” and I am yet to find an adequete translation for the work geek. Apparently the “what are you reading” line is transcultural. We chatted for a bit, then he took me on a mini tour of some places I’d missed about the historical center of the city. Then Ruben and I stopped in a cafe for a vino con coca, a mildly alcoholic blend of red wine and coca cola, before I went back to my room to sleep under a violent ceiling fan once more.

The next day I went to El museo de la ciudad. During a museum tour, I met Tesero and his timid 8 year old son. After the mildly stimulating museum, we went to get some seafood (the specialty of Veracruz). I ordered pescado a la Veracruzana. I’ve never before eaten a fish that came on a platter head an all, but it was nonetheless delicious. We walked along a pier for a bit conversing in my stunted but developing Spanish until I had to catch my bus to Xalapa.

I don’t have time now to tell about my first few days here, but I will say that the Mexican people have been some of the most friendly and loving of any I’ve met so far. I’ve been embraced by strangers in a way I’ve  never before experienced. Many people now have fear of Mexico because of governmental corruption, poverty and narcotrafico, but I hope it doesn’t relate to discrimination of individuals and of the culture.

 

Later