Scotland

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Lunch at Mary’s and Off to the Cinema

I used to go to the movies a lot, but with the decline in film quality over the years and difficulty to get to a cinema when there is something good playing, I’ve lost the habit. The only movie I really wanted to see last winter never came to Maz, so I never got motivated to figure out Going to the Movies in Mexico. But there was a big movie coming out this fall that I wanted to see in theatres and it just happened to be opening in Mexico today: Spectre, the new Bond movie.

I figured that with the number of Mexicans who speak English I could surely find a showing of Spectre in English, possibly with Spanish subtitles. Absolutely! In fact, I had quite my pick of showtimes and locations. I chose the 2:20 show at the Gran Plaza Cinépolis. 2:20 because it was a very long movie and I didn’t want to get home too late. Gran Plaza because of its convenient location near Mega. I knew that I could walk to the store after, get some groceries, and then easily grab a cab to the embarcadero.

I left home around 11:30 this morning and did my usual walk to the Fisherman’s Monument to grab a bus. For the first time, I managed to flag one down outside an official stop! I got off deep in the Golden Zone since I wanted to grab lunch at Mary’s, a burger joint reader Sandy has recommended more than once.

I wish that I had glowing reviews for Mary’s, but it just wasn’t my thing. Sorry, Sandy. Yes, the burger was good, but last year I could grab a really good plain burger just up the road for half the price or a fancier burger at Beach Burger at the Plazuela Machado for a third of the price. I also didn’t care for the Gringo ambiance, with the English only and late ’90s’ music that I was sick of listening to 17 years ago.

Look at these prices. They’re steep even by US standards!

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I had the Texas burger, with jalapeño, cheese, BBQ sauce, onions and bacon. Beach Burger does something very similar, only with avocado instead of jalapeño. I found Mary’s burger quite salty, but I liked the mix of ingredients. The peppers weren’t spicy at all, but added some zing.

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I did appreciate that they serve Heinz ketchup!

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The bill came in both pesos and USD, so disheartening. The peso price is a better value, by a full USD.

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I would go to Mary’s again if that’s where someone wanted to meet me or if I had a guest who was craving a little slice of the States, but not on my own. I’m glad I tried it out, but it’s not the Mexico I came here for.

From Mary’s, I headed south towards Rafael Buelna, stopping to get a cold bottle of water at an Oxxo and an ice cream at Thrifty’s (in lieu of a snack at the theatre). I had no sooner turned onto Rafael Buelna when I was accosted by a gang of Mexican tourists from out of state who mistook me for a Mexican! I sent them off to Taco Loco, after they complained that they couldn’t find a taco joint with ‘real’ prices, no English on the menu, and spicy salsa. I have a feeling that my directing Mexican tourists to authentic tacos in the heart of Gringoland is going to be my favourite story of the winter!

By the time I reached the Gran Plaza, I was more than ready for air conditioning! The cinema is located in a mall, a very similar setup to what you see NOB. I had no trouble buying my ticket (saying, literally, “Double zero seven” because I had no idea how to pronounce Spectre in Spanish! One thing that surprised me is that they have assigned seating. I had to pick my seat without ever having been in their theatres, so I chose one right smack in the middle of the theatre, which wound up being row G. G is not an easy letter to pronounce in Spanish (it’s sort of like yeah, but more guttural), but I was apparently very clear. What can I say, I like a challenge! A movie ticket was just $43!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That’s 2.56USD or 3.40CAD!

I was early, so I sat with my phone in the lounge until it was close to start time. I had a glance at the food, and it was super pricy, close to NOB prices. Popcorn is ‘palomitas.’ Then, I went in. The seats were very comfy and reclined slightly. Row G was one row too close to the screen for me, so I’ll go with H next time.

Pirating warnings, commercials, and previews started promptly at 2:20 and lasted for what seemed forever. So going to the cinema in Mexico is just like going to the cinema in Canada and the US. I went to the cinema twice when I was in Scotland, and mind you this was almost 20 years ago and in very small town theatres, but if the movie started at 2:20, it started at 2:20. All the previews and whatnot were before then.

The movie was absolutely amazing! I can’t believe how bad Quantum of Solace was when Casino Royale, Skyfall, and Spectre were so good. I’m tempted to go back and give Quantum of Solace another chance now that some of its issues have been addressed…

I sometimes have difficulty with the British accent and wish I had subtitles, so I was glad to have them for this one, even if they were in Spanish! They actually helped me out a few times.

The movie finished at 5:00 and I spent a full 10 minutes wandering around the mall looking for an exit! I finally made my way back to the entrance I’d come in on, clear across the mall from the cinema, so the equivalent of walking two extra blocks from Mega. It was still light out and I headed off to the grocery store, refusing service from a pulmonía along the way.

While I prefer to shop at Soriana and Ley, each grocery store has some things the other doesn’t. Mega has the best bakery section (Raisin bread with no sugar! Pumpernickel!) and I can count on it to have hummus (thanks again, Sandy!). I got what I needed, amounting to three bags’ worth, and headed down to get a taxi.

There was a pulmonía and a regular taxi waiting out front, with the drivers sitting at a table chatting. Normally when you come out of a store laden with packages, taxi drivers will fall on you in droves, but not these guys. I said to them, “Taxi?” and they looked at each other until one finally asked me where I was going. When I told him the embarcadero, he said, “Why do you want to go there?!” That’s very unusual for my experience with Mexico. People here don’t question you and assume you know what you’re doing unless you ask for help. I was tired and retorted, “Hoping to sleep in my bed tonight, thank you very much.” He did a double take and told me that the fare would be $60, which is average for that ride, so not worth bargaining down. He didn’t help me with my door or my packages either at Mega or at the embarcadero, so I didn’t tip. Oh, and this was a real taxi again, dang!

Here’s a map of my day. The red tear drop is Mega. Pemex la Ceiba at the bottom right is across Emilio Barragán from the embarcadero. So I walked from there to Fisherman’s Monument, where I got on the bus to get to Mary’s. From Mary’s, I walked to the cinema, then back to the Mega, where I got a cab. The cab took a winding route that mostly parallels the bus route.

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I was tempted to get a couple of hot dogs for supper at the embarcadero, but I was hoping the hot dog lady would be up and running on this side so I could get them to go and put my own mustard relish on them. Turns out, she’s out of business. Dang. I did pick up some beer on the way and decided to have one with some of my bread, cheese, salami, and hummus for a quick and easy supper.

It’s been a long, full, and great day in Maz again! But I think tomorrow will be an Isla day… 🙂

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The Winter of My Dirty Feet

Sitting at Charly’s Rock tonight munching on my octopus tacos as I watched the Sea of Cortez, I was flooded with a feeling I couldn’t understand at first. It was overwhelming and I almost choked on it as tears welled up in my eyes and threatened to spill over. I took a deep breath to calm myself and then I knew what it was I was feeling.

If my life was a movie, there would have been a montage running backwards through the last seventeen years of my life ending with me sitting on a bench by Melrose Abbey in Scotland. The feeling was utter oneness with the universe and my place in it. Peace. A certainty that I am exactly where I am supposed to be and that my life is on track.

I’ve always felt that I was being prepared for something. Part of that something was my winter here in Mexico. So many little life lessons all added up to no significant culture shock and an ability to slip so easily into my Mexican routine. I’ve been wanting to come to Mexico for so long, but I was patient and went when going there felt like an inevitability, the most logical and sensible next step in my life.

There is no doubt in my mind that I will be back at Isla this time in seven months. And there is little doubt that I’ll have Mexican residency within the next few years and citizenship within the next decade.

The thing about travel, truly living in a new place instead of just vacationing there, is that it expands your horizons and refashions your worldview. I remember taking a train to Mountainview, California, eight years ago, my first time being in a warm climate, and having a life altering revelation. I didn’t have to keep trying to enjoy winter and cold weather. I could choose something else because there were other options!

Just because I was born in Canada does not mean that I am forced to accept its climate or culture of apathy or exorbitant cost of living. The whole world is open to me and I can choose to live in a climate where I am healthier. Rather than bemoan the status quo and lack of desire to grow as a people, I can choose to live somewhere that is growing into ‘first world’ status and choosing its own path that honours the past while shaping an exciting future. Or I can choose to live outside the first world because I know I can be very happy with very little as long as I have good internet… and just about anywhere in the world has better internet than Canada anyway. And then, there’s my income, barely enough to eke out an existence in Canada, yet sufficient to live well in less developed countries. I might not love what I do, but I love the freedom of schedule it affords me and when I can live somewhere like Mexico where that money buys me a lot of freedom, it really makes me feel stupid to have ever considered giving it all up for a ‘real’ job in Canada.

The life education I gained in the last several years was costly and now I need to focus on paying it all back. I’m grateful that Mexico is relatively close by and will provide me with the stimulation I need I until I can afford to take off and explore the far reaches of our world. I’m also thankful that I found a sliver of Canada that is calling me back, a piece of property that I love and where I don’t feel that my values are compromised. Haven is a blessing and I can honestly say that sad as I am to leave Mexico tomorrow, I am happy to be heading home.

Just think of what lies ahead for me; nearly six months of good weather under the bright blue skies of my beloved Prairies while knowing that my life now is a nearly eternal summer and that I do not have to dread the coming winter. I’ll have a brief spell of cold before I can leave and, soon enough, my feet will be getting reaccustomed to the grit of sand between the toes and forgetting what closed shoes feel like.

For the last seventeen years, this song has been a lament. Fond memories of my Scottish travels were marred by the failures that followed my great adventure across the pond.

Now, I can say, Caledonia, you were the best thing I ever had and I can finally remember you with only joy in my heart and not an ounce of regret.

¡Gracias, Mexico, y hasta noviembre!

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A Little Cultural Research

I’ve done a lot of research about Mexico over the years, confident in my belief that I’d eventually live there, if only as a snowbird. But now that it’s really real, I’m having a burst of panic thinking that I really need to know things I take for granted in Canada and the US, like tipping and how the currency works, never mind all the cultural etiquette!

My only experience traveling in a country that doesn’t use dollars was a month-long trip to Scotland in 1998. I remember my first night in Edinburgh (third night in Scotland) like it was yesterday. A fellow backpacker, Michael, and I decided to go have dinner together. I ordered penne in a rosé sauce and was shocked to find meat in it (I was a vegetarian back then). But even more clearly than that I remember paying the bill and Michael asking me three times if I really mean to tip what I was tipping. It was only later that night that I realised I’d given a nearly 30% tip on a mediocre meal with poor service! I had a good laugh at myself about it.

This is how I’m going to approach my first trip into Mexico proper (I’m not counting the two trips I’ve taken to border towns). I am going to make mistakes. I will likely get scammed more than once. It’s just part of the experience and I will do my best to keep my sense of humour!

Living in another country that does not use dollars and whose primary language is not French or English has been a major dream of mine. I can’t believe it’s about to come true!

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Travels Without Miranda, #10: Melrose, Scotland

My month’s journey backpacking around Scotland taught me that there is no reason why I can’t have something I really, really want. I woke up one November morning in 1997 and announced that I was going to Scotland the following summer. I spent six months saving up, and even losing a month’s income to the Ice Storm of ’98 didn’t deter me from my goal.

The most amazing month of my life was drawing to a close when I landed at the youth hostel in Melrose. It was a grand old Victorian house, but it was for the abbey I had come. My month had been one of following the steps of Scotland’s hero William Wallace and one of her kings, Robert the Bruce, and it was at Melrose Abbey that Bruce’s heart was buried.

Melrose youth hostel

Melrose youth hostel

There wasn’t much left to my trip, just a few days. I was due back at work in a week. I was heartsick to be giving up my travels, but excited that my life was about to begin. I was starting university in the fall and would move out on my own, events that made it a little easier to say goodbye to Scotland.

My last night in Melrose I sat on a bench watching the sunset behind the abbey ruins. It is one of those moments of my life that I remember with shattering clarity. It was a perfect moment in time when I knew that I was at the right place and that everything in my life was exactly as it should be. I was flooded with a feeling of peace and well-being and rose from that bench clearheaded and ready to face whatever the future had in stock for me.

Melrose Abbey. The Bench would be just offshot to the right.

Melrose Abbey. The Bench would be just offshot to the right.

It didn’t take long after that for my life to completely derail and I ended up spending the better part of a decade grasping for that perfect moment again.

While I’ve never had such a strong feeling of contentment since hitting the road with Miranda, I’ve had several glimpses of that peace I felt in Melrose. With that reference point in mind, I have been able to identify moments that are completely the opposite, when the universe is shouting at me to get out, to move on, that where I am is the wrongest place I can be. I haven’t shared the full story of what went on in Oliver, but I think that what I didn’t say in my announcement that I was leaving was pretty clear.

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Glasgow to Montreal

6:51 AM

What a morning! I’ve been tossing and turning since a little past 5! At 6, I said enough! and I got up, showered, packed, etc. Although I’m not hungry, I figure it would be smart to get a bowl of cereal in me. Then, I’ll have to zoom downtown. So far, it looks like I might make the airport for 8:30. I could be there for 8, but I think it would be silly throwing away a free breakfast. Besides, I’m in no real rush, I don’t have to check in until 9. It feels weird to think that ‘tonight’, I’ll be sleeping in my own bed! I’ve put tonight in quote marks because it’ll be tonight in Canada, but very early morning here! The jet lag coming wasn’t too bad, but I hear that going west is worse. It’s like living the same day twice. Anyhoo, tomorrow should be interesting! When I get ‘home’ I want to soak, and wear something I haven’t worn in a month (I had the same three tee-shirts, one sweater, and one everyday pair of pants !).

9:01

I’m all checked in and ready to board at 10:15! It’s incredible: the subway arrived at the same time I did, then I got to the bus stance just as they were getting ready to go. Check in was a breeze, but it would appear that I have to get my luggage in Toronto to clear customs and then get it back on the plane. I’ll figure it out when I get there ! I bought (my uncle) a full litre of ‘Highland Park’ (no smaller size). I figure I might as well get him one I like rather than pick and choose at random. Edradour was more expensive (and not as good!) Turns out ‘Wallace’ is a liqueur made from single malt whiskey. Thanks for nothing, lady!

I just set my watch back to hometime. It’s 4AM there!!! I’ll be in Toronto at 13:15 EST. That’s 9 hours from now ! I have to catch my connecting flight at 15:00. It’s going to be tight!

12:08 EST (from now on, EST)

Despite some minor turbulence, the flight has been smooth. We’re flying over Quebec now. The in-flight movie was ‘Titanic’! Can you believe that the return flight is a whole two hours longer?! Due to winds we’re going to be delayed. Oh well, just so long as I’m on the plane for Montreal at 3!

I am amazed by the quality of the vegetarian (actually vegan) meals offered. Lunch was TOFU served with peppers and rice with bread and fruit salad and crackers for dessert. Our snack (well mine!) was a whole wheat bun with lettuce, tomato, and cucumber with orange juice and a tangerine on the side. Of course, I’ve had tea.

 

It was cool flying over the north(ish) Atlantic while the boat (‘Titanic’) sank (yes, I am morbid!). I can’t believe that movie still makes me cry. The worst/best part is at the end where the photographs are revealed and one sees that Rose has fulfilled all her dreams. Now, my dream has come true. This time around, I shed tears of understanding of the miracle incurred by the realisation of dreams, while the previous two times I wept out of petty jealously. Oh, I am no longer the same person anymore! I’m not even the least bit worried about clearing customs, etc. and making my 3:00 flight! Whatever happens, will happen. I can’t advert my fate. It’s fate, a fate I created that has brought me here. Jack Dawson’s right: ‘Make it count’, live each day. I realise now that each new dawn is full of opportunity and each new day full of adventure. Life can’t be perfect, but this is close!

4:20 pm

I made it!!! We arrived over a half hour late in Toronto, but I had no trouble clearing customs. My handbag had to be opened and rifled through, though, since the x-ray machine picked up something ‘weird’. (I had all my ‘hardware’ in there: clothes pins, miniature grappling hooks, and a pocket knife, among other things. The ‘searcher’ started laughing, she couldn’t believe how prepared I was for any situation!)

Leaving Toronto took forever. We taxied for over 15 minutes, then we had to queue (very Brit. word!) to take off. Now, we’ve landed, but our gate is currently occupied by another aircraft so we’ll have about 8 minutes to wait. (L. Pearson airport, Toronto, was undergoing major renovation, so planes were delayed leaving. The plane at our gate in Montreal was one such plane that had been delayed like ours.) This is the worse thing that’s happened to me since I left a month ago. Poor me!

Right now, it’s supposed to be 9:23 Glasgow time, but I feel on Montreal time. I’ll get back to you in a few hours! The snack this flight was ice cream on a stick. It was funny looking at the business travellers in ties and suits dealing with it!

It’s good, but weird, to be ‘home’. What is the definition of home ? I guess it’s where you understand what makes people tick (in both good and bad sense). It’s where the rhythm of life is so engrained in you as to be unnoticeable to you. It’s where you can ‘go with the flow’ and not have to think about it. I dinna ken, really. But when you’re home, you feel it. And this is home. Not Montreal as such, but Canada, in general. I understand Canadians. I can guess what motivates Scots, but only guess. I don’t know what motivates Canadians, but I do know how they think. I really am a Canadian above all else. These people, a veritable crazy quilt of cultures, are my people. I’m starting to get a sense of identity that I couldn’t see until I left the country and saw other cultures.

That’s it! I went to Scotland in search of myself, and succeeded. I am astounded by that last entry. I had to leave Canada in order to understand what makes me Canadian. I learned valuable lessons on this journey, lessons that will stick with me for ever, and through all my travels.

I know the journal is not always eloquent, but it was jotted down on trains, planes, and buses, while standing in line, or eating dinner. Sometimes, I’d just lean against the corner of a building or plop down on a bench somewhere. It was written during stolen moments of time. I cannot imagine travelling without it.

Thank you for sharing the most incredible adventure of my life with me.