No Mexico City Blues

The thought of riding into a city of 22 million people exhausted me but I couldn’t miss the chance to experience Mexico City and was now nearby and decided to book a hostel in the centre of town and ride in from Morelia. I often have the choice of which roads to take in Mexico – the toll roads which are a series of modern highways built in the past decade or the earlier roads which connect large towns and cities. The toll roads are obviously smoother roads, they’re quicker but the downside is I miss all the interesting stuff in between, the gas stations are inconsistently spaced and I run the risk of running out of petrol again and they’re very expensive relatively speaking. A day on the toll roads can cost as much as a night’s accommodation and two or three meals. The other option, the provincial roads often have confusing and unreliable directional road signs, but can often take me through beautiful countryside or through mountain ranges or charming villages. The down side to these are often the extended distance and more than anything, the painful and irritating topes, the Mexican speed bump. The speedbumps creep up often and at random places with little or no warning and are often far steeper than they need to be to mitigate speed on the road. If I approach them too fast they often scrap the bottom of my centre stand and probably do damage to my suspension. Riding in to Mexico City I decide on the toll roads so I get in at a reasonably hour, check in at the hostel and find a dodgy but safe place to rest Sixto for a few days. For all its size, abundance of people on the street and the congested underground I have a great time in the city. I join a fun group of travelers on walks through the city by day and nights on the beer and mezcal (similar to tequila, made from agave).

One of the highlights was visiting a museum which housed a famous mural from Diego Rivera and a public building where he was commissioned to paint themed murals over six years last century. Rivera is remembered for his murals of revolutionary ideas and the indigenous heritage of Mexico. He twice married Frida Khalo another famous Mexican artist of the 30’s and 40’s. I visited her house, La Casa Azul which is now a museum displaying some of her art and eccentric life stories.

We get a big crew together and head to the Luche Libre mexicanwrestling one night for a laugh, the chants and name calling fitted well with poor athleticism. There was an ex-gladiator from home fighting, way past his used by date.

I leave the city on a sour note. I picked up my bike early the morning I planned to leave and parked it on the footpath in front of the hostel before having breakfast. When I returned to pack my bags, a policeman, Gomez, was by the bike taking down my rego. details. He told me I was parked illegally and would have to following him to the police station to pay a fine. I kicked up a fuss, saying there was no where else to temporary park to pack my bags but all I got back was ´Hey amigo this is Mexico, this is not my eproblem.´ I tried to draw it out as long as I could, took a while to secure my bags then told him I had no money on me so he made me follow him to a bank, a guy working at the hostel said it would be about 1000-1200 pesos as did the cop later on. I hinted a couple of times that ít would be easier´ if I just paid him and he could deal with the ´paperwork´ later on as I was in a hurry to leave. He didn´t seem like a corrupt cop but finally he came around as we got closer to the police station and asked how much I was willing to give him. I offered him 300pesos ($25) which we settled on without much argument from his side until I handed him a 500 note and he whinged about having to give me change. I got my change and rode out of town.