Done with Tanning and back to Culture

Even after four days of lathering on the sunscreen, I had a mighty awful burn in some awkward spots. I gave up the idea of horse back riding my last day and instead renting a chair and umbrella, ordered a big plate of seafood and took in the surfing competition on the main beach. My stomach was still recovering from whatever it is that makes us gringos sick, so I still didn't consume more than one beer the whole week. Which is hard when you're surrounded by fun-loving (and very good looking) Aussies and Kiwis back at your hostel cooking up fresh caught fish on the barbie every night trying to get you to party.

After four days I could have stayed the rest of the trip and diligently worked on my tan, but two things spurned me on: the thought of having to take a bus back up to Oaxaca and the joyful fact that I had a direct flight from Tuxtla to Mexico City already bought. I hopped on a first class bus and made the 11 hour, very comfortable trip to San Cristobal.

I can't even remember the first thing that made me first look at San Cristobal. Even before I left I wasn't sure if I was going to make it that far. I am so glad I did. The hostel was perfect. My $5 US a night room was empty almost the whole week. Breakfast was on the house. The living room was stocked with about a hundred bootleg DVDs and best of all two new puppies were allowed free range of the courtyard. It was like a second home.

I continued my practice of busy sight-seeing and soaking in sun during the day and laying low at night. My trip-long sickness preventing me from partying up could be considered a blessing and a curse. I'm sure it saved me a lot of money and drama, but I missed out on a lot of fun, I'm sure.

Days in San Cristobal were dreamy. I did a horse-back riding trip to a tiny village inhabited by natives whom had kicked out the Christians years ago and instead used the pew-less church for healing ceremonies and ground-level worship on beds of pine needles. I hiked up to churches perched above the town. Mostly I wandered the charming streets eating churros and shopping the wears of the highly talented artisans.

While there were a handful of tourists, most looked Mexican, but you could tell that before the swine flu/drug war media craze this place was a haven for both the American hippies looking to get in on the Zapatista revolution and yuppie travelers. Excellent restaurants catering to vegetarians abounded and I caught an artsy, political flick at a restaurant/language school/cinema.

It was a wonderful last stop on an 18 day tour and if there's one place I'd return to, it's San Cristobal.

Bus Ride from Hell . . . to Paradise

Now the distance between Oaxaca and Puerto Esconido looks about the same as Philly to New York City, which would take any sensible driver 2 hours. There are two buses you can take from Oaxaca to Puerto Escondido: the first class bus for about $35 takes the flat, newer highwaysaround the mountains and takes 8 hours or the second class bus for $17 that cuts right through and takes 5 hours. Given this info, which would you take? Second class, right there with you.

Ehhhh! Wrong choice. I am no elitist. Hell, I had slept on the floor already one night on this trip, but this was a scary bus. It took off as the sun had just set. Extra passengers stood in the aisle, holding on to the back of my seat for one hour as the contraption (nearly a bus) zig-zagged up the mountain range. Each and every settlement along the roads had put in a tope, or speedbump, bringing our demon-speeding bus to a screeching crawl.

My alarm went off at 1am, what should have been 20 minutes before arrival, but the minutes, then the hours ticked by.

The view out the window was jungle flying by to the right. Then jungle flying by to the left as the bus wound very narrow pot-holed roads. Our soundtrack was that creepy Bach organ fugue, followed by Carmina Burana and then . . . the Nutcracker Suite. Was this a nightmare or dream? For the next four hours I was wide awake thinking I'd miss my stop.

I didn't, at 4:30am we arrived. My hostel's guard let me in, pointed to a bed and I collapsed.

I awoke to paradise. A walled in set of houses that all seemed to run together surrounded a quiet pool. A bridge ran over the pool and let to hammocks and lounging chairs. Palm trees were everywhere. Nothing looked too well kept, but in my haze of little sleep it was a dream. I put on my suit, got directions and headed out to the nearest beach. My hostel was a ways away from the center of nightlife and a good walk to the beach, but oh what a beach. One of the more secluded, less traveled beaches, I found myself virtually alone, with a cove of blue and multiple sleepy little bars ready to hack a coconut for me and stick in a straw.

Now this was a vacation.

Oaxaca in Color

The Ruins of Monte Alban, set high in the hills above Oaxaca City

A weaving cooperative outside the city

Oaxaca Institute for Culture displays alters from regions across the state

Celebrators pose

A woman offers shots of tequilla as she sits by her alter

The finale of a dance production put on barefoot in the dirt against the backdrop of the city´s cathedral

Go South!

It was advice given to me on my last night in New York before flying out. I should have listened right away. Mexico just gets better and better (and cheaper) the further south you go. I was charmed by Oaxaca. As soon as I arrived I signed myself up for the first tour. I was tired of do-it-yourself and wanted to be escorted around a bit.

Despite being one of the most popular times to visit Oaxaca (Day of the Dead) our tour was not the embarressing tour bus group of 40 people or so led by a shouting woman holding her umbrella high to make sure her ducklings were following. A van picked me up at the hostel with a mere 6 others and our visits to the ruins of Mitla, the Tulle tree (possibly oldest in the world) and a textile weaving cooperative were uncrowded and all worth it. I found fast traveling companions in the two germans in the backseat with me and two older ladies from the West Coast in front.

Delighted by the cheapness and relaxed tours I decided to do more. I signed up for a cooking class and a visit to Monte Alban, some of the best ruins left in Mesoamerica. I was delighted to find myself the only one signed up for both.

The private cooking class turned into a hangout session with the young chef´s friends that worked at the hostel. While learning the 20 ingredients that go into mole, I also learned about the life and times of being young in Mexico. The eldest girl had recently married. She and her husband were in school studying sustainable tourism. In order for her to share his scholarship they needed to be married. So, he had proposed over the phone and they were married the next day. It was fine, but not what she wanted. She also longed to be out of Mexico City, away from the pollution, but that is where all the good schools and jobs were. It´s not the first time I had heard the story, my host in Mexico City also had had no desire to get married and have kids and wanted out of the city. Mexicans all don´t fit our preconceptions.

The rest of the time, I wandered the old colonial streets and spent my evenings gawking at Dias de los Muertos festivities -- now a strange blend of indigenous belief that the dead come back for a night to commune with their families, the Christian celebration of All Saint´s Day, and the American tradition of dressing up scary and partying. Here the celebrations last 4 nights, with people getting dressed up, multiple bands in the streets, and alters honoring the dead everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean the entire Zocalo, every hotel, every store, every restaurant and school.

My fourth day I tried to get an early bus to Puerto Escondido, but found tickets sold out until 8:30pm. No matter; I spent one more afternoon wandering, catching a cultural tour show on the plaza and then steeled myself for what was supposed to be a 5 hour bus ride to the coast. . .

Restarting in Oaxaca

Mexicó city had been rough. Going from serene, fall foliaged, bikable, Boston--barely a city, really--to the 2nd largest megatropolis in world is shocking. Even my brief overnight stay in NYC before the flight didn´t prepare me for the people shock. It doesn´t help that Mexico City is actually a city upon cities, with falling apart infastructure and not designed for a newcomer.

I have two kinds of the Mexicó City in my head--the beautiful museums, the ruins exposed next to the Zocalo, in the subway stops and in the hinter land, the delicious quesadillas, the murals, political discussions with my host. Then there´s the waking up at the crack of dawn with my host, always being lost, the drenching rain, the confusing and crowded subway, getting very very sick. The two images now seem to balance eachother out, so that I don´t much like or dislike the place. But sitting in the bus station, I was ready to get out and start an acutal vacation.

Finally out of the ring of Mexicó City´s smog, the skies were bright blue, and the fields of marigolds were in full bloom, being sold on the side of the road for Day of the Dead festivities.

As the bus pulled through the narrow Oaxacan streets I hit the reset button in my head. And arriving at a suprisingly spotless hostel I found my reservation (made at an internet cafe in the station right before my bus pulled out) was in good standing. My simple baguette dinner felt fine in my stomach and the city museum was free and open late for the Day of the Dead. My head hit the pillow soundly that night after my first hot shower with shampoo in ages, very, very soundly. I was finally on vacation.

Unedited, untitled, raw mess of photos here. Try guessing what the pictures are for fun.

Holá Again Warm Weather!

My trip to Mexico could be described as my attempt to hold on to the warm weather for a bit longer . . . or a desire to understand a place that the media chooses to keep putting down . . . or a cheaper consolation prize for not being able to afford to go back to Europe.

It's all these things. But it's certainly not a vacation. So far my trip has had many moments where you just have to say 'okay' and go with it -- Your host has one key and needs to leave for work at 6am? okay. The waiter again brings you meat? okay. You get on an express train to the stadium by accident? okay. You loose your atm card? okay.

That is not to say that I'm not glad that I'm here or that it's a completely mindbending experience to take the Mexico City metro at rush hour or see thoroughly intricate Day of the Dead alters or be forced to accelerate your 5 weeks of Spanish classes to the equivelant of 2 years in order to get through the day.

It's awesome, but I woner if the pain in my stomach is the food or the stress.

Goodbye Warm Weather, Goodbye Bike Rides, Hello Cold

Perhaps it is a bit cruel to go on vacation to a higher latitude, but the locale was not in my control. While beautiful this time of year, Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine were best experienced from a window last week. It was the first time I had really experienced fall in a while. With the election last year, Barcelona before that and 2 years in Miami, noticing foliage being anything other than green has been half a decade past due. I'll admit it, mountainous drives through the reds and oranges were pretty, but all that ends when it's 34 degrees and sleeting on you.

Here's my homage to wonderful warm weather events gone by:

Wake Up the Earth Festival, Jamaica Plain

Revere Beach, Revere

First Thursdays, Jamaica Plain

Walden Pond, Concord

Lantern Festival, Forest Hills

Blue Hills Brewery and State Park, Milton

Minuteman Bikepath, Arlington

(too busy biking to take pictures)

St. Anthony's Festival, North End

Whale Watching, Gloucester

Riversing, Cambridge

Honkfest, Sommerville

Elite means I'm better than you.

Watch out dining establishments in Boston - I am now a Yelp Elite Squad member. One bad meal and you are crushed. Conversely, I will shower love and praise on my favorite restaurants and shops. Coincidentally, this induction does include free food events.

Elite Squad is just a few rungs below New York Times' food critic and above anonymous blogger.

A Week of Nature Porn

I barely watch tv, what with my rabbit-eared ten year-old set in my living room not having the best picture, but even I know about the new Ken Burns documentary series--National Parks: America's Best Idea.

It's astoundingly beautiful and has already made me pull out my USA guide and start planning trips. I highly recommend to start watching if you haven't yet and try your hand at this week's lonely planet National Parks contest.

Ode to the Charles

Now I know to start inviting folks earlier. Going it alone wasn't so bad though, in fact I loved the community vibe.

Riversing is put on by a local band of merry-makers who also run pub sing-a-longs a few times a year. This is the sixth year they've done Riversing in an attempt to create new traditions and build community. There's an amateur choir, a few professionals, a white-haired, spectacled man in a white tux that leads the whole thing and then a few hundred people that join in song.

Joggers still out of breath from their run. Women with popped collars singing in high sopranos. Older men with raspy baritones. Children holding hands and spinning in circles while they sing. Moms singing to their babies. College students singing, yet trying to be cool. Bikers still with their helmets on, balancing their bikes and reading the lyrics in the program.

We all sang our odes to the River. No need for worshiping any omnipotent God or celebration of any special battle. Just people coming together, thankful that they live in such a place where these kind of things can happen, where there's a river and parkland that people work to conserve and that the summer was good and the autumn has arrived.

In between songs we heard poems about rivers. As one poet spoke the line "a flock of geese flew overhead." a flock of geese appeared in the dimming light and flew overhead, swinging back to settle down on the bank opposite us to watch the show. The crowd oohed. More staged magic occurred as the event closed with us serenading a saxophone who had come on a boat with a giant puppet moon and sun. Circling near the shore, we alternated between our voices, his riff and a low bowing of the cello.

Some photos from the evening:

Riversing

Leave the Cahr at Home for visiting Southies

Monday of Labor Day weekend was another bike-full day. I pulled out my Walk Boston book and biked the South Boston tour. When you think working class Boston, The Departed, that retahded accent: you're thinking South Boston. Once a not-so-nice neighborhood. It's rising in status considerably as the yuppies who like being close to the center have moved in and renovated homes.

It's also really hilly, so my calves got quite a work-out. First was one of the highest points in Boston: Telegraph Hill. The site of where Washington ordered a cannon to be placed and how we won one of the first battles of the revolution. You can see how close the neighborhood is to downtown from this point, and the water that surrounds the neighborhood. How did they get that cannon up here anyway?

Next stop: Castle Island. Not technically an island anymore and nothing like a castle. Our kind Southie guide gave us a free tour of the fort and all it's history since the Revolutionary War.

The fort has a big park around it . . . with lots of lovely people enjoying the holiday. It reminded me a bit of Montjuic in Barcelona, until I saw these two lovely ladies.

Definitely America. You can see here how the park curves around. Castle Island is now a park and beach with a ring of land around it--perfect for biking of course.

I ended my Southie adventure with a pint at the bar where Good Will Hunting was filmed, chatting it up with a local on a work break about home prices in the area and in Miami.

All in all, a beautiful day, a good workout and an authentic Boston experience.

Many minutes on the Minuteman

Third installment of my labor day weekend now that I'm through with some of the days' labor.

After a late night at the Donkey Show on Friday and a long day looking for whales and checking out the brewery on Cape Ann on Saturday. I was ready for some time alone. I took the T out to Alewife and rode the Minuteman Bikeway out through Arlington, Lexington and to Bedford. The trail is wooded and generally away from civilization, with nice little interludes through downtown Arlington and Lexington. The ride didn't take very long and once I got to Bedford and hit up their little old-timey railroad display I felt like I could go anywhere. I started planning cross-country trips in my head.

Back in real life, I decided to bike as far as Concord, another 5 miles. Concord, the town where Paul Revere rode through warning revolutionaries "The British are coming!" (I have new respect for how far they walked now!) I had an an amazing crab cake sandwich at the Main Street Cafe. A decidedly non-chain bar, coffee shop meeting place, the Main Street Cafe, does not allow cell-phones or laptops (take that Panera's!). I read books at the fabulous local, independent book store and had ice cream at the Bedford Depot. Nothing beats homemade ice cream after a 16 mile ride.

I hopped on the commuter rail back to Cambridge. Apparently, I wasn't the only one with this idea. The front of the car I was in was packed with bikes. I slept all the way back to Porter Square and didn't even get charged. I had another 5 mile ride back home and stopped to run errands along the way.

A lovely day in all. I'm really in love with my bike. It's my gym, my transportation, my meditation. Nothing has been better than bike riding lately, and I know that come first snow-fall in Boston, there'll be a huge a hole in my life.

For now, I'm taking advantage.

View Larger Map

A map of my ride.

Day Trip to the Cape, Cape Ann that Is

Everyone knows about Cape Cod--Kennedy's, cranberries, beaches. Cape Ann is Cod's northern counterpart. Lesser known, but no less beautiful and interesting.

To be truthful I didn't know much about Cape Ann until I went. I had bought a whale watching coupon for $20 on groupon. Then I got excited after I saw this article in the New York Times on the North Cape.

Labor Day weekend traffic got us off to bit late of a start--no where near as bad as traffic going to Cape Cod though! We had lobster rolls at Morning Glory Cafe over looking the bay and the Man of the Sea statue. (side note: The Man of the Sea overwhelmengly was voted by residents to be the image put on the back on the quarter for Massachusetts, yet was passed over because it was not a National site. It's owned by the city. And beloved by everyone.)

Whale watching is a simple business. You take a boat out and point to whales for your customers. Cape Ann Whale Watch does this fairly well. We saw a lot of beautiful whales. The trip is run by whale scientists who are not great showmen, but have a lot of knowledge. . . And they sell really cheap boxed wine.

Continuing on the booze trail we went next to the Cape Ann Brewing Company. Now this is something I'd love to have in my neighborhood: a homey bar with a brewery in the back. Your choice of seats--rocking chairs, bar stools or long benches. We did the full tasting, which might have impared my first time playing Yahtzee since grandma was alive.

Colleen's Yahtzee was just fine.

Now I'm reading The Last Fish Tale by Mark Kurlansky to learn more about this fascinating blue-collar beach town, which is still home to enclaves of immigrant communities from the Portuguese Islands Azorea to the western part of Scillily. It also is one of the last true local fishing ports left in America, which is now being threatened by overfishing. I hope for the sake of the fish, the whales, the folk of Gloucester that we figure it out.

Explore Your Backyard!

I hate the word 'Staycations': the idea that folks don't have the money or time (or imagination) to actually take a real vacation, so they take a few days off and vacation at home.

All these blogs that love the idea of staycations need to get out a bit more.

Websites like Supereco recommend going to the library, investigating a local farmer's market and trying a new restaurant. I'm of the mind that you should be doing all these things already. If you need a staycation to check books out of the library, shop at a farmer's market and try a restaurant then something is wrong. Even I work 60 hour weeks and manage to fit these things in.

Home and Garden magazine recommends planning a tv night or gardening. I wonder what these writers do when they go on vacations. Consumer Reports gets a little more edgy recommending train rides and going to museums. Again, one should do these things in normal life.

So this labor day weekend I refuse to label my activities as a 'Staycation.' What I had was a series of backyard adventures.

Friday's adventure started out with a picnic after work in front of the Harvard libaray. We wildly brown bagged a few bottles of wine and snacked on some cheeses. I got a few giggles from students when I recycled the bottles at the library when we were done.

As usual I found a coupon code for our entertainment for the night: (hint: the code is MANIA) Donkey Show. Regularly priced tickets at $28 were just $14 for us. And before you freak, it's not that kind of donkey show, well, not really. Donkey Show is Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream set to disco in a disco. The show happens all around you and with you. Glittery, scantilly clad, gay boys dance around and bring you into the action. The characters are wildly dressed in spandex and roller skates or orange polyester suits and afros. After the show we stuck around and danced for another hour. I forgot how fun silly 70's music could be.

That guy behind him is just an unsuspecting audience member. Perhaps not so unsuspecting, though? His outfit is pretty wild too.

City Spy

I'm a big fan of tour books for the planning stages of a trip. Nothing gets my travel juices flowing more than a big eyewitness, full-color guide book. Reading novels taking place in my destination--I drool. But lug those thick hardcovers across an ocean--no way!

Instead I often rip out the pages you need or the Lonely Planet feature Pick & Mix, which lets you buy chapters of the books for cheap and print them out yourself.

The best on the ground resources, though, has got to be Mr. Gordonsky's City Spy maps. You can try reading it online, but I promise you the grammar and typeset will frustrate you. Instead check out their hostel recommendations and pick up a copy in the lobby. In person the maps are charming and quirky. The maps fold up easily to fit in your pocket and usually have the best, local low-down on where to eat, drink, party and stay. They even have a handy phrase guide. Handy phrases being "Who here would like to do a body shot with me?" or "Can you help me with my zipper?"

These things are obviously geared to the younger traveler, which makes them the perfect suplement to the Rick Steves guides.

So far Mr. Gordonsky covers Amsterdam, Barcelona, Berlin, Budapest, Krakow, Krumlov, Prague, Riga, Vilinius, Wein and Wroclaw. And I'm starting my own Boston one soon.

Perhaps with better grammar though.

Eating for Less

I'm definitely an expert on eating for pennies. There was my one week on the election last year I had grits 3 meals a day and there's my perfecting the ol' steal lots of food from the dining hall during college routine.

There's always the tension though--have a fabulous meal out on the town or save it for your next trip to Europe. However, part of experiencing your backyard and abroad is experienceing food. Here's some ways to break your PB&J habit and still save.

• Groupon is the new, viral group-coupon. Everyday get a hard-to-believe deal on local businesses. My recent snags? $20 for $50 worth of sushi. $20 for $40 at the Savant Project. $15 for $30 at the Boston Cheese Cellar. They're such good deals you'll have to hold back to not buy them everyday.

• Restaurant.com certificates are the most tacky, but the best deal. $25 of food certificates are just $10, but get on their e-mail list and you'll be alerted when even that low price is 50%-80% off. There's always some hitches on these things--having to buy two entrees, can't be used for alcohol, having to whip out this folded up print-out coupon at the end of the meal--but the price is right.

• Sometimes a meal is made by the surroundings. Dining al fresco is a great way to feel fancy and foot-loose. Technically you could say it is eating out, but without the tipping. You pick the food. To keep it cheap I recommend a brie and bread. Feeling a little lawless? Pack a bottle opener, plastic cups and a cheap bottle. The locale depends on your city, but my favorites in Boston are the Franklin Cemetery, Blue Hills Park and the Harbor Walk.

• Go ahead, feel a little chichi. Tastings might not fill you up, but you get to taste expensive wares for free. For a list of places near you type "free tasting" into yelp.com. My favorites in Boston are the Solera, Best Cellars and the Wine Gallery. It doesn't stop at wine--taste beer at Sam Adams or Harpoon's breweries or cheese at the Cheese Cellar.

• Eating ethnic is usually more interesting and cheaper than eating out American. Go straight to the source--eating Chinese in Chinatown is infintely cheaper than PF Chang's. For the cheapest results choose dingy hole-in-the-walls or trucks.

• Don't go out hungry. I kind of think of it like pre-gaming. Have a drink and some snacks before you go out. Then hit up an expensive place and share an entree.

• I'll be the first to admit Restaurant Week isn't cheap, but its probably the only way you're going to be able to afford a meal at most of the restaurants on the list. Coral Gables to Houston are doing restaurant weeks now and many places have extended the 'week' to be one or two months long. Lunches are the best deal at around $25 for three courses and dinners run around $35.

• Finally, you resist the need to eat out, by making eating in special. Get a fancy cookbook out of the library. Light some candles. Sit on the porch. Change it up and you won't feel so bad about staying in.

Showing off Boston

For a few weeks each year I give up my relatively cushy job for a 70-hour work-week. My postings have fallen by the wayside, but that's not to say my adventures have. Even with 70 hours at work I use what time I have left to enjoy the sunshine that has finally graced us with it's presence.

Last weekend I had a chance to show off my city to my parents. I used this as an opportunity to eat out at fancy places I'd been eyeing the past few months--Harvest in Cambridge (divine!) and Ten Tables in JP (take it or leave it). It was also a weekend of small-world run-ins. This has been happening quite often actually. Two friends ended up getting a table directly next to us at Ten Tables. Waiting for our table for brunch at Centre Street Cafe on Sunday we ran into my highschool friend and her mom--turns out she just bought a house down the street.

Here's some sightseeing highlights:

Lantern Festival in Forest Hills Cemetery

Biking and shopping along Centre/South Street

Sam Adams Brewery tour (I've got quite the collection of free tasting glasses now.)

Sand sculpting Festival at Revere Beach