Marty Magic Travel

Friday, February 22

Although I want to visit the Ciudad Universitaria which has numerous murals and mosaics created by “The Three Greats;” Diego, Orozco and Siqueiros, Art vetoes that idea. The University is a city in itself and the art pieces we want to see are scattered over miles of campus.  330,000 students attend the university. We decide on a less ambitious day and after another inspiring view breakfast at our hotel, we set off to find the Antiguo Colegio de San Ildefonso. This hidden gem, a Jesuit monastery and an example of Colonial architecture is a few streets behind the Zocolo and has some wonderful murals by the ‘Three Greats’ and others. I am struck by a mural of Cortez with his indigenous mistress and the luminous stained glass in the stairwell.

Marty at Antiguo Colegio de San Ildefonso

Cortez and his indigenous mistress – Orozco

Jose Clemente Orozco

Detail of Orozco mural

I regret I cannot match all of the murals with their corresponding artists but I imagine that Maurice Sendak was inspired by these murals because his ‘Wild Thing’ monster character looks nearly identical to a creature in one of the murals. The downstairs theatre is closed but fortunately, musicians are wrapping up a rehearsal and we are able to slip inside. We are cautioned not to take photographs but we get a firsthand glimpse of Diego’s early mural, Creation, strikingly illuminated by the lights of the stage.

Just around the corner from our hotel is the Cathedral Café where we have been meaning to dine but because it closes at 3:00 P.M. our timing has been off until today. (This restaurant is on the “foodie” list.)   We enter the unassuming ground floor bakery and goat cheese shop to discover that there are two floors above. A stylish woman juggling seating charts and a microphone takes our names and within minutes she points us to an elevator and we ascend to the third floor and emerge into an elegant and light filled dining room.

View through the elevator door

A salad art piece

Art and I always share so we orchestrate our order so we can taste a variety of dishes. The salad we order is both delicious and an art piece and we order two different types of enchiladas. (We are not disappointed.)

This is our last full day and we are still ticking Diego Rivera murals off our must see list. We walk to Mueso Mural Diego Rivera, one that we overlooked a few days ago. It is home to one of his most famous murals, Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Central Park. The museum is just one room, showcasing this panoramic mural and we spend our time resting on the gallery bench and identifying the characters portrayed in the mural.

Dream of a Sunday Afternoon…

Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Central Park

Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in Alameda Central Park

Photos of Diego Rivera

After a week of intense site seeing, Art and I are tired and sated but I feel I will regret not picking up a few souvenir gifts. I peruse the guide book and map and discover we are near the local craft market. Art humors me and we walk many more blocks in search of the permanent market that engulfs many blocks. We enter a warren of stalls, each one selling identical merchandise and Art is surprisingly patient as I try on several blouses in the hopes of transforming myself into a young Frida Kahlo. Alas, the blocky cuts are unflattering and I am soon disheartened, but had we not come here, I would have felt that I had missed something.  We UBER back to our hotel, rest a short while and head out for an early dinner at Restaurant Mumedi on Avenue Francisco in the heart of the trendy shopping district. Mumedi has good reviews but turns out to be more like a museum bookshop cafeteria than a restaurant. Although the food is good and stylish, they don’t serve any alcohol and we miss sipping wine with our meals. After dinner, we peruse the gift shop but overall I am disappointed with our dinner choice on our last night out.

We wander from dinner to an upscale bar with fashionable drinks but the music is loud and unlike us, the crowd is young and gearing up for their Friday night. Still not ready to give up on a last night Mexico City fling, we walk from the tourist district and choose a local cantina where we sit and people watch over a mediocre drink before strolling back to our hotel and sinking into bed.

Saturday, February 23rd  Homeward Bound

I’ve coordinated our separate flights back ‘home’ so that Art and I are able to enjoy a leisurely morning together. We forgo our hotel breakfast and walk around the corner to the Cathedral Café.
Yesterdays’ lunch was stellar and we want to sample their extravagant yet affordable breakfast (affordable by California standards.) Art has his shoes shined on the way and by the time we arrive at the restaurant there is a 30 minuet wait.

Art having his shoes shined

Waiting for a table

We put our names on the list, return quickly to our hotel to pack and are back at the restaurant just in time for our names to be called. We ride the elevator up to the first floor and are seated. A waiter immediately appears wielding a silvery pot of coffee and a white ceramic pitcher of Mexican hot chocolate. Having read the rave reviews over the hot chocolate, I throw cation aside and watch as the waiter froths the thick and creamy concoction. Another waiter discretely slides pastries onto our plates and we inhale the calories and the old world ambiance.  After the cholesterol high hot chocolate, I order an egg white, goat cheese and poblano pepper omelet, not because of its health attributes but because it sounds delicious. Art orders an omelet wrapped in squash blossoms and both our breakfasts are amazing.

Squash blossom omelet at the Cathedral Cafe

Egg white and pepper omelet

We fast walk off some of the calories to have a repeat look at the Diego Rivera Murals at the National Palace. There is no line at the palace and we are able to spend another 30 minutes admiring the murals.

A last look at the Diego Rivera Murals at the National Palace

The reality of time dawns on us and we call for an UBER and are soon our way to the airport. Our two different flights depart 20 minutes apart from different airline terminals. All goes seamlessly.  Art’s return flight to San Jose del Cabo is an easy two hours. My return flight to California is a bit more painful involving two flights and a 4 hour layover in LAX. I arrive back in San Jose by 9:00 P.M. and am pulling in my driveway before midnight.

Taking off over Mexico City – 21 million population!

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

I wake up to my legs burning with every step. Scaling the Pyramid of the Moon may not have been a wise idea. My thigh muscles that have taken up the slack for my left knee are now screaming.

We know that the Frida Kahlo museum requires timed tickets and we ask our concierge to book us a time slot. My credit cards are in the hotel safe and Art passes the women his business credit card which is declined. She graciously tells us that it is certainly because we have neglected to tell our credit card company that we are traveling in Mexico. Our bill is paid and I believe this to be the case but she handles our embarrassment in the same manner that I handle declined credit cards from customers at shows. I tell my customers whose payments are declined that it is probably because they have purchased other items at the Art Show and the various artists are from all over the country. The credit card company sees charges from various cities and states and blocks the card for their own protection. She offers to use her credit card if we pay her the cash and we accept her kind offer and leave with printed tickets for Thursday at 11:30 A.M. Although Art is unconcerned about the credit card, I am worried since many of our automatic business expenses are tied to it and I don’t want there to be issues back at home. I call Alisha and tell her to test our two business credit cards by purchasing Endicia shipping. She texts back that all is good and Art and I walk several blocks to find an Scocia Bank ATM. A week ago, I gave Alisha a check to deposit into Art’s account so that we would have access to cash on this trip. Art makes a withdrawal and tells me there is no record of the deposit. This is not a good money morning and I call Alisha again. She sorts it out and discovers that the teller who made the deposit put the money back into our personal account, not into Art’s account. The bank manager remembers me mentioning our trip to Mexico and transfers the missing deposit into Art’s account. (I’m pretty sure that her doing so was not really acceptable on just a hearsay from Alisha, but we are grateful.)

We hope to join a FREE 10:30 A.M. walking tour of the city center and I fast limp to the meeting place in front of the Cathedral. It is not a great tour but we need some structure to our morning and to take our minds off the finance glitches. The free walking tour takes us to the Templo Mayor, at the far side of the Zocalo. This was the site of the Aztec City, the heart of Tenochtitlan and is partially excavated and restored. Our small group visits the sinking cathedral before walking along Cinco de Mayo Avenue and listening to our guide point out spots of interest. It’s not a great walking trip and at 12:30, we are relieved to be set free. At our guides suggestion we have an inexpensive lunch at a Taqueria with a young, Dutch/German man who arrived this morning and will be in Mexico for 2 months writing his Master’s thesis. His company is interesting enough but we part ways after lunch and retrace our steps to the Palacio de Bella Arts to see the museum.

Palacio Bella Arts

Palacio Bella Arts

Siqueiros

The Art Deco interior of the building is fabulous but unfortunately all the galleries are closed or possibly being renovated (this is not entirely clear.)  We glide along the polished marble floors, our necks craned to admire the soaring Art Deco architecture. Murals by Diego Rivera, David Siqueiros and Jorge Gonzalez Camarena decorate the first floor balcony walls. Seeing the Diego Rivera murals feels like visiting a familiar friend but it is exciting to see the work of Siqueiros and Camarena.

Man, Controller of the Universe or Man in the Time Machine, Diego Rivera

Camarena

Camarena signature

Downstairs, there is a retrospective of Ricardo Martinez work, an artist I had not heard of and Art and I thoroughly enjoyed the show.

Ricardo Martinez de Hoyos

Ricardo Martinez de Hoyos

Ricardo Martinez de Hoyos

Before leaving, we have a drink in the Art Deco museum dining room. Well-heeled patrons sit savoring beautiful meals and I wish that we had chosen here for lunch instead of the taqueria. We walk back along the shopping promenade to our hotel and rest until 6:00 P.M. Our meals over that past few days have been awful and I read the guidebook carefully. Our restaurant of choice tonight will be the Hosteria de Santa Domingo, an upscale old world Mexican restaurant a few blocks away from the tourist and shopping area.

Hosteria de Santa Dominga Restaurant

Chiles en Nogada

The Prawn speciality

I order their specialty; Chiles en Nogada, stuffed peppers with minced fruit and meat filling that are smothered in a sweet walnut based white cream sauce and topped with pomegranate. This interesting dish is traditionally served at room temperature. Art orders House prawns wrapped in Bacon and stuffed with Manchego cheese.  Both meals are excellent although I doubt if I will ever choose to order Chiles en Nogada again.  A mediocre pianist and vocalist provide background entertainment and get little applause.  The service in this old world restaurant is a mixture of arrogant and accommodating and we pay the rather expensive bill (over 1000 pesos with tip) and return to our hotel overly full. I’m glad we had the experience but I don’t need to repeat it.

Wednesday, February 20th,

In spite of the dramatic terrace view of the Zocolo, our hotel breakfast is starting to get old. I am not complaining because I can’t imagine wanting more than what they offer and I repeat the past several mornings self serve plate of fresh papaya and pineapple, two pieces of bacon, steamed cauliflower and broccoli and a tiny fresh baked croissant. We seat ourselves and the waiter takes our coffee order; a cappuccino for me and a double espresso for Art. Our waiter asks if we would like something from the kitchen and I order a one egg omelet with mushrooms and cheese. I am more than sated when we leave, looking forward to another full day of museums.

We start with the museums within the National Palace, just steps away from our hotel. We arrive at 9:30 A.M. but the Diego Rivera mural isn’t open until 10:00 A.M. so we enjoy poking into several other adjoining venues. A political cartoon exhibition is both interesting and amusing with satirical cartoons of Donald Trump, Kim John-un and Netanyahu. When we exit the line for the Diego Rivera mural is long so we head to the art gallery across the narrow street. We have this free museum to ourselves and motion lights switch on as we enter each gallery. There is a guard within each gallery and Art comments that it must be a government work program to keep people employed. Again when we exit the line for the Diego Rivera mural is still long so we walk in the direction of the Palacio Bella Arts in search the Franz Meyer Decorative Arts museum. It is tucked down in an unimpressive courtyard but the temporary Neo-Baroque exhibit is excellent and leaves us wanting more.  Most of the national museums are free and as seniors, the private museums offer discounted admission for seniors. I feel like a senior today with my legs still sore from pyramid climbing and my injured knee. Art steps into the men’s restroom and I rest on a bench nearby to wait. Suddenly two pretty young women wearing dark museum uniforms with knee length skirts and high heels approach me and motion me to come with them quickly. I recognize the word “drill” and “not to worry” but they are insistent that I follow them outside to a breezeway and into a covered parking garage. I fumble for the word “esposo” and point to the restroom worried that Art will think that I have been abducted. A large dot with 4 arrows is painted on the garage pavement and they position me on the center dot as two dozen others are escorted to the “safety zone.” Gratefully, Art is among the others being corralled and within a few minutes the drill is over and we return to the museum.

Since our taxi driver to the Condessa passed us counterfeit money, we have been enjoying the magic of Uber. Art enters our next destination as the Museo Tamayo and within minutes our Uber magically arrives to transport us to the park bordering the museum. We head straight for the museum café and Art orders the salmon and I order succulently marinated duck tacos. As usual, we share. The modern architecture of the museum is striking and the main exhibit is work by German Venegas. I try to find merit in his work but it’s a struggle.  This is the Tamayo Museum but there are only a few paintings by him. The modern art museum is across the park and it is excellent and we spend two hours wandering the four wings. Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo, David Siqueiros, Ricardo Martinez are just a few of the artists represented here.

We decide to give the Opera Café a second chance for dinner tonight. The interior could be out of a movie set and their claim to fame seems to be that Poncho Villa rode into it on horseback and shot bullet holes in the ceiling.  We watch nearly every customer crane their necks scanning for bullet holes on the baroque ceiling. The ornate carved wood and mirrored antique bar stretches the length of one wall.  We enjoy tonight’s dinner but much might be attributed to the liter of fruit filled Sangrias that Art orders expecting me to share it. It tastes like fruit punch poured over fruit cocktail and I order red wine.  We linger some time listening to the mariachi music and enjoying the old world ambience and each other’s company. Although the food is good, we are getting tired of Mexican fare and take two of my four Chile Verde enchiladas to go with the intention of passing them to one of the many less fortunate who ask for a few pesos. We are less than a block away when a man approaches indicating that he is hungry and we hand him the well wrapped to go box and then worry that we have forgotten to ask the restaurant for silverware.

Monday, February 18th, 2019

Breakfast overlooking the Mexico City Zocalo

We savor breakfast with the view and at 9:15 A.M. are picked up for our tour to the Teotihuacan Pyramids. The van is tiny and crammed with a half dozen passengers but we soon realize that we are being shuttled to a meeting place where we will be transferred to a larger bus. We wait for the transfer and are finally on our way at 10:00 A.M. Our first stop is the Plaza de las Tres Culturas, excavated Aztec ruins. Our mediocre but well intentioned guide speaks in length about the site in Spanish but his abbreviated English version of the history is unclear. His motivation however soon becomes crystal clear when he begins prepping us for the clean bathrooms and free coffee at the upcoming silver factory stop. There was no mention of a stop at a silver factory on the itinerary and I flash back to our trip to China where I felt held a hostage in cavernous gift shops while we waited for someone on our tour to complete a purchase (resulting in a commission for the guide.) Our bus deposits us on a city street lined with silver shops but we are ushered towards one in particular and directed towards the bathrooms in the back. This requires us to all file past numerous showcases filled with sterling silver jewelry. The tiny, three stall women’s bathroom is indeed clean but one can barely turn around in it and there is one sink shared between both the men’s and the women’s bathrooms. If this is to be the highlight of our tour, I am worried.

Metal workshop beside the authorized silver factory.

There is a family of nine from Patagonian on our bus and they have taken the bait and are shopping. As a jeweler, I am interested in what motivates people to purchase these overpriced trinkets and I peruse the glittery displays with discerning eyes. Back on the bus, I try to be kind when Agnus shows me her purchases and asks my opinion. We still have an hour drive to the pyramids and we pass though miles of marginal houses, stacked and crammed together precariously on the out-skirting hillsides of Mexico City. The blocks of house are painted one of 9 different colors depending on the political loyalty. Apparently the politicians gift paint in exchange for pledges and the hillsides are paved a rainbow of colors; purple, yellow, salmon, green, turquoise, blue, orange and red.

The outskirts of Mexico City

We finally arrive at the pyramids at 12:30 and our guide explains the site (presumably eloquently in Spanish but with a minimal English translation.) We have 2.5 hours to explore the site. Art and I head first for the smaller of the two Pyramids, the Pyramid of the Moon and in spite of my injured knee, I manage to climb it, crab like, using only the muscles in my left leg and hoisting myself step by step using the cable hand rail secured from bottom to top along the steep stone staircase. My right knee is still too painful to bend but using different muscles, I scale this pyramid and am just slightly out of breath when I reach the top. There are of course fabulous views from this terrace which is actually not the top but as far as visitors are allowed to climb. A hundred awed tourists mill on this level with no barriers to prevent one from tumbling to ones’ death below. Everyone is taking selfies and we ask a German man to take a photo of us and return the favor. The entire city stretches below with the Pyramid of the Sun in the distance.

View of Teotihuacan from the Pyramid of the Moon

The approach to the Pyramid of the Moon

Pyramid of the Moon

Cable hand rail

Terrace of the Pyramid of the Moon

We descend and walk the long promenade between the Pyramid of the Moon and the Pyramid of the Sun. Ordinarily, I would climb to the Sun and back but find a sliver of a shade below an ancient stone wall and wait while Art sets out to conquer this Pyramid. He is gone nearly an hour and I catch sight of him once or twice.  His white shirt, floppy hat and shorts make him easy to spot even among the crowds upon the monumental pyramid.

Teotihuacan Pyramid of the Sun

Later, Art tells me that he tried to call me from the top but since I was hunkered down below a wall, there was no reception. At the appointed 3:00 P.M. we meet at the bus to go to lunch. Famished, most of the tour chooses immediate gratification at the buffet but this one looks awful and I dislike buffets in general. We have befriended two young Seattle women and one of them wishes to order from the menu so the two of us wait in solidarity for our meals. The stuffed chicken breast that choose arrives in time and is surprisingly good. I wash it down with a beer and we are off to the tequila tasting factory. This is the second non disclosed stop on our itinerary and is another tourist trap but I am mildly interested in the methods of harvesting the Agave nectar and we gladly accept the tastings of various tequilas.

On our return we stop at the Basilica of Guadalupe. Our guide explains that nearly as many pilgrims visit here as the Vatican in Rome. Again the Spanish and English explanation are vastly different in length but my understanding is that the original Guadalupe Cathedral has sunk along with the city and stands askew in the plaza.

New Basilica of Guadalupe

Exterior of the basilica

Alter of the modern Basilica of Guadalupe

Interior of the modern basilica

The sinking Basilica of Guadalupe

A newer modern round basilica, built in 1974 is the one that we tour. Prior to entering, I hope for a Sagrada Familia experience but although the basilica is beautiful, I am not spiritually awed.  Art and I wander the vast plaza between the ancient Cathedral and the modern Basilica with views of the volcanos and the sleeping lady in the distance. As a geologists’ daughter, I picture Mexico City sinking into this lake valley and surrounded by volcanic mountains. As we exit, Art lights a candle and I know it is for his mother.

30 minutes later, we are the first to be dropped off at our hotel. Without a plan, we wander the nearby shopping promenade in search of dinner. We have still not grasped how inexpensive food is or perhaps how strong our dollar is so we are price shopping the menus and settle on what looks like a promising patio restaurant. The Caesar salad dressing is rancid and the pasta Art orders is mushy and inedible. I am desperate to save the evening and suggest drinks on the terrace of Gran Hotel Ciudad de Mexico. Having drinks at this hotel is on my Mexico City bucket list and is the opposite extreme from where we just ate dinner. Parts of the 2015 James Bond movie, Spectre were filmed in Mexico City and at this iconic hotel. These next few sentences are in honor of Nancie Allie who always told me to hold my head up high and act like I own the place.

Interior of the Gran Hotel, Mexico City

Interior of the Gran Hotel

View from the Gran Hotel

We arrive at the relatively unpretentious entrance to the hotel.  The doors are opened as we step close and we are welcomed into an architectural Art Nouveau masterpiece. Soaring ceilings of ribbed glass crown the vast foyer. I wish for daylight so that the stained glass would show its’ vibrant colors but there is something magical about the structural skeletal ribs of steel against the night sky. There is no one in the cavernous lobby and we approach the front desk and announce our intentions to have drinks on their terrace. It may be my imagination that they appraise us dubiously but they point us to the elevators and we ascend to the top floor. With heads held high we approach a kiosk attended by a lone women and request to have drinks on their terrace. She records our name, peruses the seating chart and motions us to sit and wait. We sit obediently and within two minutes are ushered up another flight of stairs to a table overlooking the Zocalo and the illuminated Cathedral beyond. I realize that this is the same view we have enjoyed for the past three days at our hotel but minus one star. The Zocalo shines and the cathedral glitters and my heart flutters slightly as I look at the drink prices on the menu. Pesos seem so much more because of the extra zeros but in actuality the drink prices are no more than at a good California restaurant. Art orders a margarita and I order a glass of wine and once we relax into our drinks; as the American Express advertisement says, the experience is priceless and less than $30 including a generous tip.

Saturday, February 16, 2019

Although Art and I feel at home in Baja, we haven’t ventured further afield to mainland Mexico. Although there is much to do to shut down our Zacatitos Casita for a week, the morning cleanup and departure is easy and at 10:30 A.M. we are speeding along the two lane ribbon asphalt highway towards the San Jose Del Cabo airport. Although Art will return in a week, I will fly directly from Mexico City back to San Jose California, so I say goodbye to our beautiful desert and our beloved “Witch Tit” mountains that jut perkily against the flawless blue horizon.

Zacatitos Mountains

Art parks our 4 Runner at the long term Anchor parking; $25 for the week and they provide a taxi pick up to take us the short drive to domestic terminal one. I am always anxious that I have somehow made a mistake in reservations but the check in process is seamless and we breeze through security with our carryon luggage and are soon swallowed into the rear of the immense Interjet plane. We read the Mexico City Lonely Planet guidebook, planning our week itinerary and the flight passes quickly. Mexico City is at 7,300 feet, built on a now mostly receded lake bed and surrounded by volcanic mountains so the pollution from this city of 22 million is trapped in the basin. We descend into a blanket of yellow brown smog.

Taxi fares are regulated and we buy a 220 peso ticket to the Zocalo, about $12. Even on a Saturday afternoon, the traffic is terrible as we get near to the Zocalo and the estimated 20 minute trip takes 40 minutes. Our hotel Central Zocalo is on Avenue Cinco Del Mayo, just steps away from the imposing Zocalo. We decline offers of drinks or coffee at check in and head straight to our room to freshen up and prepare to explore the neighborhood. Our room is small but pretty with charcoal grey walls and a white coved ceiling. A modern built in desk spans the end of the room with a window overlooking the street below.

View from the Zocalo Central Hotel restaurant

Our room at Zocalo Central

We take advantage of the services of Hotels Concierge and ask where we might find a Café. It is 5:00 P.M. and we have missed lunch but is still too early for dinner. She suggests the Café Du Tacuba, three blocks down the street and although not what we expected, we are delighted with its old world ambience. Azulejos tiles decorated the walls and chiaroscuro paintings hang in this old world restaurant. Uniform waitresses with frilly lace bonnets hurry about laden with trays of food and drink.  I ask Art if it reminds him of anything and he tells me the Belen Café in Lisbon and I laugh and acknowledge that was my exact thought. Although the two café/restaurants look nothing alike, the period tiles and costumed waitresses lend a similar ambience. We are fortunate to be seated immediately because before long there is a crowd of hopeful and hungry patrons waiting for a table. The long dining room several side alcoves and an upstairs dining area swallow the crowds of waiting patrons.  We order drinks and an authentic Mexican appetizer platter for two and we enjoy people watching as we wait for our food. The samplings on the platter are melt in your mouth delicious; empanadas stuffed with homemade cheeses and tamales and shredded chicken tostados with ample guacamole and flavorful salsas to dress it all with. There is too much and we leave much of the platter untouched.

Cafe du Tacuba

Street view of Cafe du Tacuba

Art, Cafe du Tacuba

On a side street just cross the street from the restaurant a band is playing dance music. Art and I dance one awkward dance wearing our backpacks and wish that we could stash them aside safely.  We wander the wide shopping promenade packed with Saturday night crowds. Streets performers are on every corner, many dressed in ridiculous Hollywood costumes. Children frantically strum worn guitars and flower and candy sellers vie for the infrequent peso to be tossed their way. Families and lovers stroll the promenade enjoying the mild warm evening. Art and I search for a cozy bar to sit for a drink but the few that we enter are thrumming with deafening music and we eventually settle at an outside restaurant table, continue watching the street action and sip mediocre drinks. After our late meal at Café du Tacuba, we want just a light bite before bed.

Opera Cafe

We choose the Opera Café for its old world ambience (and the soccer game playing on its T.V. screen.)  An ornate wooden bar stretches across one of the walls and the baroque and gilded ceiling make it look like part of a movie set. A woman at an adjoining table is drinking what looks like a fruity Sangria from a bowl shaped glass. Instead of pointing to her drink, Art orders what he presumes is the same off the menu and is disappointed when the drink served him is not what the woman is drinking. We share a Caesar salad and return to hotel exhausted.

Sunday, February 17th, 2019

We enjoy the first breakfast in our hotel’s 6th floor restaurant with a terrace view overlooking the Cathedral and the Zocalo. The view is stunning and the morning sun streams into the elegant dining room.  We graze the ample buffet, order coffee and enjoy the view of the Cathedral and Zocalo below.

Archaeological Museum

Fountain in the center courtyard

Window detail of the museum

We take a taxi to the Archaeological Museum in preparation for our visit to the Pyramids of Teotihuacan tomorrow. It is a world class museum and we spend the entire day immersed in the various Mesoamerican cultures. The museum is beautifully curated and clearly delineated into eight Mesoamerican periods and cultures. Here is the link to a great U-tube video explaining the time frame for these civilizations. The intensity of the museum demands that we take a couple of breaks and we enjoy both a late morning coffee break and a lovely late lunch at the museum café.  (I am especially fascinated with the various serpent sculptures.)

Serpent head sculpture

Serpent sculpture

Marty with coiled serpent sculpture

Carved sacrificial platform

Feathered serpent

Coiled serpent sculpture

The Taxi and Counterfeit Money Saga:

We close the museum down and at 5:00 P.M. sit outside on a shady cement bench and plan our evening. We are not far from La Condesa District and decide to take a taxi there. We seldom take taxis but because of my injured knee and that our hotel concierge has told us that bus transit cards are no longer available we walk towards the ring of taxis. They circle like vultures and the driver first in line snatches us greedily and tells us it will be 120 – 150 pesos for the short ride to La Condesa. He turns on his meter and ten minutes later, deposits us on a tree lined street in the Condesa. The meter reads just over 180 pesos (not quite $10) and Art hands him a 200 Peso bill. The driver quickly hands it back pointing out that it is torn on the edge and asks for another bill. Art opens his wallet and hands him a second 200 peso note. It is missing a tiny piece of its corner and the driver returns it and points to a 500 Peso bill in Art’s open wallet. Thoroughly confused Art accepts the second 200 Peso bill back and hands him the 500 peso note. The driver now seems confused as if he is having difficulty making change; chortles, shrugs and returns the 500 peso note to Art requesting another 200 peso note. We are still sitting in the back seat of the taxi and I watch Art’s open wallet carefully and the proper number of bills have seemingly been returned. Art adds a small coin as a tip and we exit the cab checking that we have all of our belongings. Shall I tell you what has unfolded now or first make you suffer through reading about our evening spent in La Condesa? As we exit the taxi, Art comments on the weird exchange but not wanting to pull out his wallet on the street, it is not until we return to our hotel later that what has transpired becomes clear. Back at the hotel, Art suspicion of being passed counterfeit money is verified. We have some cash in our room safe and compare both a genuine 200 and 500 Peso bill with the bills now in Art’s wallet. On two of the new wallet bills the images are noticeably darker, lack iridescence and the bills themselves are slightly smaller. It is likely that the taxi driver switched yet another counterfeit 200 Peso bill on us but if that was the case, we passed it unwittingly to a bar tender for two of the worst drinks on the planet. Art is beating himself up and I am mildly amused. At the most, the scam cost us $50 so it was an inexpensive lesson learned. Our good friends recently returned from Mexico City with a counterfeit money saga where they exchanged a considerable amount of money and received counterfeit bills.

Counterfeit or Genuine?

Flash Back to Our La Condesa Evening:

It is close to 6:00 P.M. on a Sunday evening when our taxi deposits us in La Condesa district. We have no clear map of the area so we wander aimlessly in one direction and then another until we come to a street lined with restaurants. In our usual dysfunctional manner, we read every menu in the area and out of exhaustion eventually choose a hole in the wall bar to sit for a drink. My knee is throbbing but Art casts a winning smile at me and I agreeably succumb to his wishes. This dingy bar has little appeal except that it is showing a MMA game on its T.V. (Art’s preference, over main stream sports.) The drinks are half the price of everywhere else in this trendy district and although we are no longer struggling pack packers I hoist myself upon the bar stool in hopes of a decent drink. The are no other customers and I foolishly order a cosmopolitan and Art orders a margarita. Our drinks are generous but AWFUL and we leave our half-finished drinks, pay our minimal bill (possibly with counterfeit money) and continue our search for dinner.  Although our dinner is decent, it is not memorable although it may be to the waiter, if we paid with counterfeit money?