Travel Guides: All Countries / Central America / Mexico / Mexico City
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| | | | Sleeping it off in Mexico
From the Mail on Sunday
Here's a health tip for anyone heading south to Mexico - never drink mescal on an empty stomach. It can transform your brain into something that resembles a lump of week-old Emmenthal cheese and make you behave like an idiot. Attempting to tap-dance on the wings of a taxiing aeroplane is a common side-effect. So too is telling your friends and family what you really think of them - then making a mess on their shoes.
Mescal, of course, is Mexico's second great contribution to the world of alcoholic beverages. Its first is tequila. Anyone who has ever gone to a stag night at a Mexican restaurant has experienced, at close range, the mercilessness of tequila. That, however, suddenly seems as benign as Ribena once you've sampled the toxic delights of mescal.
Mescal is made from the fermented and distilled juice of the agave plant and has the kick of a demented mule. But it is not related to the hallucinogenic drug, mescaline. And though it is perfectly legal (on sale in assorted Mexican dives, and in many an upmarket British off-licence), drinking it is a bit like playing with liquid dynamite. Especially if you make my mistake, and quaff it on an empty stomach. But hell - it was a seductively cool, moonlit evening in the Mexican city of Oaxaca, and I did not really see how a mescal or two could do too much damage.
Oaxaca is, without question, one of the most delightfully seductive towns in the Americas. And it's the perfect soft landing after negotiating that urban maelstrom Mexico City, the so-called 'gateway' to the country, which essentially means that it is the inescapable port of entry through which anyone flying from Europe to Mexico must travel. Though it's one of those megalopolises which was probably built to house, at worst, eight million souls, its current population approaches the 13 million mark - which (to steal an old line) leaves five million people looking very stupid every night.
Yes, it is one of Latin America's great cultural centres. And yes, it has great universities, great publishing houses, and a fine orchestra, and all those splendid Diego Rivera murals, and a resident intelligentsia, and splendid restaurants, and all the other telltale attributes of metropolitan sophistication. But for the new arrival in Mexico City, these corners of cosmopolitanism are obscured by the sheer manic overdrive of the place.
The city is like a vast ongoing car crash - a place where the air is permanently perfumed by dense clouds of smog, petrol smoke and burning debris; where the ten-mile tailback is a permanent traffic condition; and where crime against the person is allegedly the favourite municipal sport.
Or, at least, that's what I was told by assorted denizens of the capital - all of whom led me to believe that it was best to walk around after dark with an Uzi slung over my shoulder. As I usually don't travel with a submachine-gun, I decided to do the next best thing - I took a plane to Oaxaca.
Mexico City
Big new wave for Mexico
From the Daily Mail
When you are perched on a stool at the swim-up bar in your hotel in Acapulco, it all feels a long way from the land of the bandy-legged bandito. With a margarita in one hand and a whirlpool bath jet whirring away at your back, you finally consign the stubble-faced outlaw of film fame to cinematic fiction - even if you could do with a fistful of dollars when it comes to paying the bill.
Misconceptions about Mexico - often called America's poor relation - and the Mexican people have been hard to live down. After all, even the poetically entitled Acapulco, meaning 'place of the reeds' was first put on the map by the Hollywood jet set - Liz Taylor, Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley - looking for an alternative playground to Europe.
When, during the Sixties and Seventies, the developers moved in, the stars decamped for pastures new and Acapulco was deemed a has-been location. Now it is undergoing a renaissance, and for the first time it is Mexican money that is fuelling the boom.
Indeed, under its new president, Vincente Fox, who heads the first change of government in Mexico for 71 years, commentators inside the country are as optimistic about its future fortunes as if they had just struck gold in the Sierra Madre. And from the tourist point of view, Mexico has become one of the most chic locations in the Latin world.
In fact, Acapulco was always favoured by upmarket Mexicans looking to buy a holiday home, and not because they lived in hope of catching a glimpse of Liz Taylor or the ghost of Elvis. They regarded it as being fundamentally Mexican, unlike the more Americanised pretenders to the 'seaside' throne - Puerto Vallarta and above all, Cancun.
And for those who imagine Acapulco as an Identikit tourist resort - much the same as any high-rise resort in the world - think again. It is true that its main strip, the Costera, is a pleasure- seeker's paradise of hotels, restaurants, bars and nightclubs. But the Costera also happens to be perched on arguably the most beautiful natural bay in the world. That is just the beginning, for Mexico has more than 4,000 miles of coastline.
Mexico City
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| | | | The dozy delights of Oaxaca
This was a smart move, as Oaxaca (Wa-ha-ka) turned out to be very good news indeed. Located 6,000ft above sea level in the south central Sierra Madre mountains, it is one of the few intact relics of 19th century elegance still left in contemporary Mexico. And, after the hyperactive rigours of Mexico City, it is also deliciously sleepy.
The drive in from the airport, however, was a tad dismal. The taxi heaved its way past a Third World cityscape of shanties, broken pavements, burnt-out cars, shell-shocked donkeys, mangy dogs, emaciated cats, barefoot boys playing football with a rusted tin can; in short, all the expected scenes of Latin American underdevelopment.
But then the cab turned a corner and plunged down a narrow street, and I found myself in a realm of serious enchantment. Suddenly, the cityscape was Spanish colonial, the pavements cobbled, the streetlamps harking back to the early 1900s, the city's grand squares and piazzas reflecting a truly epic grandeur. This isn't merely a town - this is a film set; the sort of over-the-top, fin-de-siecle spectacle suitable for a Zorro remake.
But what is so engaging about Oaxaca's visual romanticism is the fact that it isn't ersatz, theme-parkish, or Disneyfied. On the contrary, this is a working community, one which exudes a certain raffish charm.
By midday - with the sun at full wattage - the venerable cobbled streets start to fry, and the light turns merciless, bathing the city in the sort of haze which blurs your vision and suddenly makes everything about Oaxaca appear a little skewed. More tellingly, the old town is always cloaked in deep silence; a stillness which hangs over the city like a soundproof veil. Even the central market is intriguingly muffled.
After a day or so absorbing this civic hush, I decided that the word 'sleepy' really didn't do Oaxaca justice. Narcoleptic was closer to the mark. It didn't take long to surrender to such pleasant lethargy.
Yes, there are ancient Mayan archaeological sites on the outskirts of town. And yes, the city is brimming with surprisingly excellent galleries which sell surprisingly good contemporary Mexican art (as Oaxaca has always been known as a favourite artists' retreat).
The city is also packed with astonishing architectural delights, such as the church of Santo Domingo: a vast ornate testament to the visually camp wing of Latin American Catholicism, replete with such Sunset Boulevard touches as a massive gold ceiling which looks like it had been built on the backs of 25,000 peons.
At heart, however, Oaxaca's true appeal is its torpor; its sense of being in the middle of a permanent siesta. It is a place to squander half the afternoon in a shaded cafe. Or to lounge under a tree in the courtyard of the Camino Real (a former monastery which has been converted into one of the more atmospheric hotels in the Americas). Or to simply watch the sun dip over the Sierra Madre. Anyone wanting to while their life away in a genial, sunstruck backwater should immediately pack their bags and head off to Oaxaca.
Searching for silver in the Sierra Madre mountains
Drive ten miles north out of Acapulco, along the coast to Pie de la Cuesta, and you reach a vast, unspoiled lagoon which was used as film locations for Rambo, The African Queen and all Johnny Weissmuller's Tarzan films. The only passing traffic is the occasional pelican, heron or flock of cormorants. A short boat trip takes you to the unspoiled Bird Island wildlife preserve.
In the other direction, past the bay of Puerto Marques and along the Pacific coast, you can walk for 150 miles before reaching the state of Oaxaca, counting on the fingers of one hand the people you have passed along the way. But for the true flavour of ethnic Mexico, visit one of its many picturesque towns and cities such as Oaxaca, St Miguel De Allende or the colonial 'silver city' of Taxco, declared an historical monument by the Mexican government.
Taxco lies mid-way between Mexico City and Acapulco and is easily reached by bus from either location. The journey through the Sierra Madre mountain range, which runs north-south through Mexico like a lizard's jagged spine, is stunning. This is archetypal cowboy country, with great clumps of cacti clustered on the mountainsides and wild horses and cattle grazing by the side of the road.
Built on an impossibly high hill, Taxco is dominated by its pink stone 'Mexican Baroque' cathedral. Though the silver mines for which it was famed are long since exhausted, hundreds of silver jewellery outlets still line every tiny street.
It was my idea of shopping heaven. In the unlikely event of not finding any jewellery you like, you simply design your own, have it fashioned by an expert silversmith and pick it up within the hour. And all for the price of a plastic equivalent on the average UK High Street. Indeed, Mexico is so rich in jewellery, brightly-coloured ceramics, hand-woven cloths and handicrafts, that even the most die-hard minimalist would find it hard to resist.
Mexico City, the biggest and most populous city on Earth, is somewhat daunting to approach, not least because most guide books suggest that you get into a Karma Sutra position with your handbag every time you take to the street. Never, never get into an 'unofficial' taxi-cab, unless you want to meet that man in the 'Wanted' poster face to face.
But common sense can save you from most dangers, leaving you to explore a great city which combines archaeological treasures, sleepy exclusive shopping suburbs, and a highly active historic centre. And if the city's scale and drama seems difficult to grasp, just wait until you get to the pyramids of Teotihuacan, 30 miles to the north, one of the best preserved ancient cities on earth.
Standing on top of the Sun pyramid, the third largest in the world, and looking down over the extraordinary, two square kilometre ancient site, you certainly get the sense of Mexico as being at the heart of a richer and more diverse culture than its Hollywood neighbours ever gave it credit for.
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| | | | A meeting with mescal
One evening before dinner, I propped myself up against a bar near the cathedral of Santo Domingo, and decided that the moment had come to sample mescal. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and, being caught up in Oaxaca's pervasive somnolence, I wasn't thinking about little matters such as the effects of mescal on an empty stomach.
I threw back two large shots of the stuff, chasing them down with two bottles of beer. When I stood up, the muscles in my legs suddenly felt as if they'd been replaced by rubber bands. The inside of my head was like an echo chamber, equipped with a seven-second delay mechanism - which meant that all sensory stimulation registered a couple of moments later than usual. And my peripheral vision was not exactly functioning normally.
I staggered out into the night, and, in the great piazza fronting Santo Domingo, I happened upon the end of a grand wedding. The scene was pure Mexican theatre. Fireworks cascaded across the sky. A huge windmill-like structure was set ablaze. Locals in wildly-coloured shawls began to dance across the square on stilts. Guitars were raucously strummed.
Someone set off a string of firecrackers. It sounded like a burst of automatic gunfire, and I nearly hit the ground for cover. Instead, my eyes were bedazzled by a final incandescent burst of pyrotechnics - and I began to wonder if I was in the midst of a phantasmagoric experience.
The next morning, I came back to earth with a thud. The inside of my head felt as if it had been used as a nuclear test site. When I stared at myself in the hotel's bathroom mirror I shuddered - the colour of my face was veering towards mid-grey.
Vowing temperance and self-control and swearing off mescal for life, I managed to get myself on a plane out of Oaxaca.
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| | Available rental properties in Mexico City |
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| |  | | Al Di La-M
Constructed in the 70's for Mexico's Presidential incumbant, this is an expansive beachhouse on the exclusive Pichilingue beach in the Puerto Marques bay.
|  | | Bel Ha Villa-M
This luxury fully serviced holiday villa
is lavishly furnished to the highest standards.4 Bedrooms, 4 en suite Bathrooms.Sleeps up 8.
|  | | Dulce Suenos-M
Dulce Suenos is a spectacular Mexican-style villa located in one of the country’s most sophisticated and exclusive resorts, Isla Navidad. 3 bedrooms sleeps up 6.
|  | | Puerto Vallarta-M
Casa Cielito is located north of Punta Mita in a remote setting on a mile long beach on the Pacific Ocean that is shared with twelve other villas.
|  | | La Playa de Arizona-M
Rich with Mexican spirit, this charming beach house blends the very best of modern conveniences with the accents of traditional Mexico.Accommodations for up to 8 adults and 2 children.
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Holiday Rentals in Mexico City |
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