A few weeks ago I was cashing in some leftover travelers checks in Toronto.

“Where were you?” the teller asked.

“Mexico,” I replied far too wistfully.

“Wow,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to go visit Mexico really bad.”

“Why don’t you?” I asked.

“Well, the media makes me too afraid to go,” he replied.

That’s right: The media makes him too afraid to go to Mexico. The media.

I’m not saying that Mexico doesn’t have its fair share of dangers. After all, border cities like Ciudad Juarez are some of the most dangerous cities in the world. But during my travels to southern and central Mexico I’ve felt very comfortable as a whole. More comfortable, unfortunately, than I did in Guatemala.

Above all, Mexico City has the worst reputation, one that it doesn’t really deserve. People would ask where I was in Mexico, and when I say the capital their eyes open wide.

No, really, it’s not that bad. In fact, it’s a wonderful place. Of course, you want to take safety precautions – don’t wander around late at night, call and don’t hail a taxi, yada yada yada – and avoid bad areas, but Mexico City is in fact a wonderful and surprisingly accessible destination for a city of around 25 million.

Why?

1. Public transportation that’s both awesome and cheap. The metro is fast and goes almost anywhere you’d want to visit. And it costs about 25 cents a ride. It’s almost always busy, so while you’ll want to look out for pickpockets, crowds of people are always good for safety.

If the metro isn’t getting you where you want, there’s also the Metrobus, a fabulous new system that is sort of a cross between subway and a regular bus. Buses zip along two major roads and pick people up in subway-style platforms. Efficient and also cheap (40 cents). And when there’s no Metrobus, there’s also peseros, minibuses that go anywhere and everywhere and cost almost nothing.

When you need a taxi, it’s best to call one but even that’s not too expensive. I took a private radio taxi from south-west of downtown to the airport (and this is a huge city so keep in mind the large distances) and it only cost 9 bucks.

2. Cheap museums and galleries. So many cities are inaccessible for the budget traveler because it’s “cultural” things cost so goddamn much. I mean, isn’t getting into the Museum of Modern Art in NYC about a bazillion dollars? (Or twenty.) I went to see the excellent Museo de Arte Contemporaneo. I was disappointed to find out it wasn’t free museum day (Sundays) but that I’d have to pay the extortionate price of… $1.50. Other great museums in the city include Museo Tamayo, Bellas Artes (free), the Frida Museum, the Trotksy museum and more.

3. Clear, distinct neighborhoods. One of the reasons Toronto is my favourite city in Canada is its unique distinct neighborhoods. Mexico City has this too! Condesa, Roma, Coyoacan, Centro Historico and many more have their own particular feel and make Mexico City a lot more manageable than you’d think.

4. A city on the move. For all the griping you’ll hear from resident chilangos, you do get the sense that Mexico City is a place that embraces change, that’s trying new things out, that’s striving for improvement. For instance, there have been efforts in recent years to make the city more bike friendly. They now close down Avenida Reforma on Sundays so it can be used exclusively by cyclists. In the neighborhoods of Polanco, Condesa and Roma there’s also a bike sharing program. You pay an annual fee (about 20 bucks) and then a very nominal fee to rent the bike by the hour. There’s pick up and drop off spots throughout these central neighborhoods. This are just a couple of the interesting things that Mexico City is doing.

5. Helpful population. You’ll hear people from other cities describe people from the capital as rude and unfriendly. (You’ll also hear Mexico City residents describe people from the “provinces” as close-minded and uneducated, so I guess the score is even.) But it’s not really true. The people of Mexico City – chilangos – are very friendly and most would be happy to give you advice or point you in the right direction.

There’s many, many more reasons to love Mexico City, but these are just to show that the capital is really not the scary place you imagined it was.

Well shit, I thought. Here I am dying to live down here in Mexico.

When Mexicans hear that I want to live in their country, I get a number of reactions.

Some nod their head. Duh. Why wouldn’t you want to live in my gorgeous country?

Some are perplexed. It’s weird, they think, but whatever floats my barco.

Some are almost offended. Thousands of my countrymen risk everything to head north, and here you are leaving a rich country behind?

I guess you can’t please everyone.

Last night, I was visiting some friends in Ottawa. One is a transplanted Mexican engaged to a Canadian friend of mine.

“I miss Mexico,” I lamented. “I really want to go back and live there.”

“But why?” he asked.

“I like the lifestyle,” I replied.

“But what aspect of the lifestyle?”

I was at a loss for words. It certainly is more than the tacos, great weather and gorgeous men, but it’s hard to explain exactly why.

After I got home last night I goofed around on the internet. I found the following joke. It’s totally stereotypical, of course, but at the same time it hints at the reasons I am happy down south.

(The following joke taken from basicjokes.com)

The Mexican Fisherman

The American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellow fin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied, “Only a little while.”

The American then asked, “Why didn’t you stay out longer and catch more fish?”

The Mexican said, “With this I have more than enough to support my family’s needs.”

The American then asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life.”

The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing; and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat: With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor; eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles and eventually New York where you will run your ever-expanding enterprise.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, how long will this all take?”

To which the American replied, “15 to 20 years.”

“But what then?” asked the Mexican.

The American laughed and said that’s the best part. “When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions.”

“Millions?…Then what?”

The American said, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

Luckily, the city is filled with loads of distinct neighborhoods, and some will give you a bit of that calm you’ve been craving.

One of such oases is Condesa. While not quite as charming as Coyoacan or Roma, Condesa is impossible to avoid for most foreigners in Mexico City because it contains a large proportion of the city’s restaurants, nightlife, language schools and so forth. It’s conveniently located (close to the historic center, but far enough away to be a lot less sketchy) so a lot of expats choose to live there. In any case, the neighborhood is a relatively peaceful place to get away from the hustle and bustle of la ciudad.

Many streets in Condesa have lovely pedestrian walkways going down the middle, offering a shady place to meander along. The neighborhood’s highlight – Parque Mexico – is one of my absolute favourite spots in the whole country. Sit on a rock by the pond surrounded by trees and you’ll almost forget you’re in one of the biggest cities in the world. Lots of sidewalk cafes also offer places to relax.

But be warned: Condesa is muy fresa. In other words, full of rich people. In recent decades, the area has become very trendy, so is now home to the hip-and-rich. At the Starbucks, you’ll be surrounded by beautiful young professionals typing away on their Blackberries. In many of the bars, the clientele will be rich 18-year-olds with far nice clothes than any teenager should have. And the restaurant scene tends to be more slick, sophisticated and international than typically Mexican.

With trendiness, of course, comes high prices. Having moved from Guatemala to Mexico City, I was initially (and often still) shocked at the prices of many things in Condesa. 60 pesos for the same torta I could buy for 20 in another neighborhood? Yikes!

One of the funniest things about Condesa that everyone seems to notice is… dogs. Dogs are, apparently, the new black or the new designer handbag or something along those lines. Dogs are so hot right now in Condesa. As such, seemingly everyone has a dog. They are everywhere. And you’d think in a city as crowded as this that people would stick to the miniature varieties. But no, many get huge, even horse-sized dogs. Go figure.

Anyways, if you are on a strict budget, or are looking for “traditional” Mexico, you probably don’t want to spend too much time in Condesa. But visit at least once, or once in awhile, for a nice relaxing break.

Luckily for me, I’m living in Mexico now. And while a few things around here are annoyingly expensive compared to Guatemala (bus trips and hostels especially), food is pretty cheap. Good food is pretty cheap. (Unless you are in Condesa or another fancy area of Mexico, which is another story entirely…)

Traveling around Mexico is a treat for food junkies such as myself. In each new region there’s something else to try. And with very few exceptions (like that disgusting gordita last week) it’s all delicious. Seriously delicious. Like “mmm…. mmm….. need to eat more and go into a food coma” delicious.

Some favourites:

Churros. All over Mexico. These deep fried tubes of dough are either sprinkled with sugar or filled with some sort of delicious sauce. People have told me these are unhealthy, but I refuse to believe they aren’t the breakfast of champions. When these things are filled with cream, there ain’t nothing more phallic on earth.

Gazpacho. Morelia. No, this is not that gross cold soup you are thinking about. In Morelia, Gazpacho is something else entirely. It’s a cup full of finely diced mango, papaya, cucumber and other fruit. Chili sauce, salt and other mysterious condiments are sprinkled throughout, and then the whole thing is drenched in orange juice. Refreshing. Delicious. Perfect. And… it’s actually more-or-less good for you!

Tacos al pastor. Everywhere. These delicious tacos are an essential part of any cheapskate’s Mexican diet. In fancier neighborhoods like Condesa, these tacos are mysteriously about a third of the price of other tacos, yet equally delicious. Pork roasted on a shwarma-like spit is sliced off and put in corn tortillas. Then, if you’re doing things right, the thing is topped with pineapple, cilantro and lime juice.

Tortas Ahogadas. Guadalajara. I read about these in the Lonely Planet long before I ever set foot in Guadalajara. Being a ravenous pig, I made sure to put the tortas on my agenda. Tortas Ahogadas” are exactly what their name implies: drowned sandwiches. Nice crisp sourdough-like bread is filled with yummy pork. Then the whole thing is seriously drenched in this red chili sauce. Magically, thing still stays together even as you pick it up and the sauce runs down your arms.

If you’re not going to come to Mexico for the music, the weather or the culture… for the love of tacos, do it for the food.

What’s happening?

When it comes down to it, there just aren’t any good jobs here. Nobody decent is hiring. I’d take a lower-paying job, like this gig at a great language school in San Cristobal, except I still have student loans to pay off so I need a somewhat decent salary.

After a not-so-great interview this yesterday (“what, you’re a foreigner?” they said, as if getting me a work visa would be the worst thing in the world) I finally decided it was time to cut my losses. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, but it’s finally come clear: if I stay in Mexico right now, I will drive myself into a fairly bad financial hole.

What’s on the agenda? Hopefully, still more adventures. I’m applying to some teaching jobs in Korea. Sure, it’s a country that most English teachers seem to complain about, but it’s possible to save lots there and I could take trips to China or Thailand or something. I will also continue applying to cool (paid) overseas internships: I’m about to apply to some in El Salvador, Honduras, Guatemala, Bolivia, Cambodia, Sierra Leone and Ethiopia. So there are many possibilities on the horizon. I’ll also pass around a few resumes in Ottawa and Toronto, as well… just to keep my options open. But somehow I think I will be back on the road

Morelia, we clicked.

At first glance you are steely and cool, and at second rosy and warm. Your buildings are almost all made of grey stone, but there’s a strong hint of pink amidst the grey.

You’re rough around the outsides, but beautiful on the inside. I like that rough ‘n tumble Latin look you’re sporting as I first approach you. But as I make my way deeper to your core, I realize you’re one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen.

Sometimes you’re modern, and other times old-fashioned. One moment you’re wearing a cowboy hat and charming me with your chivalry, and the next you have long dreadlocks and you’re throwing me a mischievous glance.

You bestow me with that tranquility I’ve been craving yet I don’t think you’re boring. I feel safe in your arms, and the air is fresh and clean. I can see the mountains in the distance, and it relaxes me to know that nature is so close. Your pace of life is slower, and I want to slow down with you.

But there’s certainly lots bubbling under your surface. I get the distinct impression that I would have a lot of fun and variety if I hung around you for awhile. You’re complex than you seem, I know it.

And damn, man, do you know how to cook!

So I’ve decided that I want you. You’re the one for me, and I want to stick with you for the long haul.

And here’s why it hurts: you don’t want me back. Here I am, willing to move here, and you don’t want me to.

I drop off resumes at every language school in town, and all I get are no, no and more nos. Am I not good enough for you?

You say it’s just not a good time for you. Maybe I could come back and apply in July, you say. Maybe you’ll have room for me then. But what if I’ve found someone else – a different city – by then? What if I don’t feel the same way about you anymore, Morelia? It might be too late!

So now I’m heartbroken, Morelia. I walk down your streets, marvel at the serenity in your breathtaking cathedral, I’m amazed at the friendliness of your sons and daughters, I enjoy the sunlight on my shoulders while I eat a refreshing cup of gazpacho. But I can’t really enjoy it, Morelia, because I know this romance won’t last.

It’s apparently also tourism central in Guadalajara. My friends and I had to put our rousing game of “spot the foreigner” on hold because there were just too many.

But, you know, I’ve spent enough time “off the beaten track” to know how to enjoy myself when I’m on it. There is seriously no point in griping about all the tourists when you’re visiting somewhere so touristy.

The only antidote to travel snobbery is to throw away all your pretensions and just do the silly tourist thing. Take photos with statues. Pose in front of taco stands. If a neighborhood’s built for that kind of thing, why not?

A visit to Tlaquepaque is a definite must for anyone in Guadalajara. Though Guadalajara’s certainly a very nice place, it doesn’t actually seem like the most accessible destination. (I’ve found it easier to crack into Mexico City, despite it’s overwhelming size.) Tlaquepaque is therefore a good place to relax for a bit and have the prettiest aspects of Mexico handed to you on a platter.

Strangely enough, Guadalajara reminds me in some ways of Toronto in the summer. Wide streets, warm weather, grey buildings… there’s not any real reason for the comparison, but I feel it nonetheless.

Guadalajara is an interesting place. I wouldn’t exactly call it beautiful – glorious historical buildings compete for space with ugly concrete ones. It’s big, but I wouldn’t really call it a metropolis. All in all though, it has a good vibe and feels like it would be a nice place to live. (Unfortunately, it seems like plenty of other people have come to the same conclusion, so it doesn’t look like there’s any good teaching jobs to be had, so I’ll be moving on tomorrow.)

Anyways, Guadalajara is sometimes known as the “gayest city in Mexico.” It certainly lives up to its reputation: this definitely seems like a good place in Latin America to be openly gay. I actually saw a taco stand called “Taco Gays.”

My friends and I are staying in a hotel in the middle of the gay district, so plenty of hip and very busy gay clubs are around every corner. Despite our conspicuous heterosexuality, we decided to check one out since we wanted a feel for the city’s nightlife. Besides the most horrible michelada I’ve ever had (practically seawater), the place was lively, played great music and filled with happy-looking young people. A fun place to be.

Today, with beautiful sunny skies we took to the streets in a great mood. Guadalajara is a nice place to explore on foot, especially around the University of Guadalajara. There are cool (and odd) sculptures and art installations aplenty, and interesting looking buildings. The cuisine is great, with sidewalk cafes selling food combining Mexican and international flavours.

Like any big city, I sort of wonder whether I’d really get a feel for Guadalajara without living here or at least having a cool local to show me around. But I get the sense that there’s at least plenty to discover here, and hopefully I’ll get the chance to come back and do just that.

Guadalajara’s cathedral:

Weird statues at the University of Guadalajara:

Cow climbing up a wall:

Plaza in central Guadalajara

Funny though, what makes some places touristy and others not. San Cristobal de las Casas, for instance, is a beautiful colonial city almost overrun with foreigners. Queretaro is a colonial city probably just as beautiful (except maybe the lack of surrounding mountains) but I spotted maybe 2 other foreigners my whole time there.

What makes a place touristy, then? Queretaro’s three hours from Mexico City, friendly, clean, cheap and full of lovely plazas and churches, so there’s no obvious answer. I guess it’s just all about the hype.

In any case, I didn’t really get the chance to get the most out of the town, since it was pouring and I spent all my time going around to universities looking for work. My general impression, though, is that while Queretaro is certainly beautiful I don’t know that I’m dying to live there. As my friend says, it seems to lack a certain “spunk.” You know, that certain lively feeling that makes you want to live somewhere.

I’m now in Guadalajara, and though it’s still pouring I’ve gotten more of the right vibe here. In two days it’s on to Morelia, so hopefully sometime soon I will find my home in Mexico.

Unfortunately, it is pouring rain here. In Mexico, they call this month “Febrero Loco,” because it’s so inconsistent. I got to walk around a little bit, but haven’t had the chance to soak up the atmosphere yet. So far, it seems like a fairly nice colonial city.

One thing’s for sure – my friend and I have spotted a few oddities. Maybe there’ll be more tomorrow?

Is it just me, or is Jesus rapping?

My friend besides a random statue of an African American kid:

So many balloons:

Nothing like a fountain that involves dogs vomiting:

Behold, the least tasty meal in all of Mexico. Cheese gorditas and potato taco: