In a slight arse earlier, coming over seemed a major effort.
Teacher commented I seemed tired in class today. Odd in part because while I did stupidly surf til about 2am I at least wasn't out drinking. Still just me in the class, which is probably a good thing.
Down to about space for 90 photos on camera card. That should suffice for today but going to have to upload some to my PC later. It's more awkward than it could be as I need to be sure only to upload ones I have already considered for upload to flickr, as once I upload them to my PC back home the whole point is that I delete my local copies.
16:50. Rumbling of thunder and intermittently visible lighting, which is oddly cool.
Waiting in car park for bus back.
Was pretty cool despite being seriously hacked off on arrival. Though the views from the top of the higher parts are the single most impressive aspect. (It is up in the surrounding hills/mountains, the views on the drive up are pretty cool.)
Starting to spit. I hope the bus turns up soon. Ah, it's here now.
Who knows what really prompted it, but was hacked off on arrival by:
- the entrance being far from clearly signposted from the car park
- coming to signs to outlying parts of the site (which in hindsight you clearly get for free) before coming to the ticket office, prompting me to wander around a bit trying to find the ticket office back where I'd already been when it was ahead. This was compounded by a sign at the top of some stairs with a disabled logo saying 'ask for assistance at the ticket office' when the ticket office wasn't anywhere in sight except possibly up some further stairs. This all seemed to imply that the ticket office was back where I'd already been, when it was really up the next lot of stairs. (The site has actually been made wheelchair accessible. The ticket office superficially less so. Maybe I missed something. I guess there must be a way in. I assume they are assuming anyone needing assistance will be with someone who can go up the stairs and ask for assistance.)
- the stupid fifty ONE peso entrance charge
Still, once I got over that it was pretty cool. Two hours wasn't really enough, it sufficed to wander the site itself feeling only slightly pressured but I had no chance to visit the museum.
Was a bit hot but not unbearable, though there was a little bit of cloud.
Raining more now. Sigh. Hope it's not too bad back in town, it's a 5-10 min walk back to the hostel from the drop off point.
I guess I was lucky to miss being stuck there in this rain at least. Even a walk back to the hostel in it is an improvement on that.
17:20. Some of the roads on the way back look like rivers.
Still wet but it seems a lot better as we get nearer the centre. Whether because they are better drained or because it's a bit later I don't know, but suspect the former.
17:40. Rain stopped before we got back. Forced to divert slightly on way back but have called in at La Rana Feliz (how appropriate...) for something to eat before I go home to do the HW and try to kick off an upload or two then come back out.
20:45. Down at Kabbalah for first beer. Left hostel at 8pm, wandered considerably. Was going to try Casa de Mezcal as recommended by teacher and guide book but was intimidated away. Vaguely planned to try here or Casanova before falling back on Zocalo (which might be more pleasant if the protestors left) but got inconceivably lost en route. Oh well.
One of the staff recognised me, which may or may not be a good thing...
21:50. I have been reminded yet again how tedious this blog is. I guess this is an inevitable result of writing it as a kind of diary for myself first and foremost. Even were I a latter-day Mark Twain engaged on a journey of unusual interest, as opposed to a middle-aged pseudo-backpacker on the well-trodden paths of Latin America, I doubt my raw notes would be particularly fascinating.
While I suspect I am getting more boring and less adveturous even by own low standards lately, it would be conceivable (not that I'm changing now, I value even these tedious recollections in anticipation of them triggering memories when I re-read them in a year or two) for me to have adopted a deliberate policy of writing for a largely putative audience. But apart from the fact I would seldom write anything, that would inevitably be based on after-the-fact reflections and with a certain (albeit possibly self-deprecating) exaggeration or generalisation in order to make my points in a hopefully humorous and entertaining way. I'd rather produce this fourth-rate genuine waffle than some not-overly-accurate third-rate humour, especially at the cost of throwing away the real (if dull) experiences.
Besides, the raw material may prove valuable. If someone could get a back page article in some magazine I happened to see years ago about "I was a middle-aged drug tourist", it's not beyond the bounds of possibility I could grind out a few hundred words based on my experiences in Latin America. :-)
22:00. Oh, although it's far from deserted, the place isn't rammed tonight, unsurprisingly. I could have a table if I wanted but I am perched at the bar from a weird force of habit. I don't feel too conspicuous and it saves getting up and down all the time. I really don't expect to nor really feel in the mood to strike up a conversation with anyone (or have one struck up with me), but I guess by sitting at the bar I am remaining fractionally open to the possibility.
22:25. Unable to get another beer for the last five minutes. The solitary barman appears to be engrossed in his accounts and I don't like to interrupt. I ordered a beer off the other chap but he ignored me and is no longer behind the bar, maybe he isn't really working tonight. I hope someone else orders a drink soon...
22:30. Got one. Apropos of nothing, I will observe that when I had that hour's lesson with the woman who runs (probably owns) the school the other day, she said kind of unprompted some stuff about things being more chaotic but more free in Mexico than say in Europe. I am inclined to agree though I think you could over-egg that pudding, but I wonder if she really believes that or it is something she has picked up from past students saying it. My inclination is/was to believe she really thinks so, but of course I could be wrong. She at least pretended to be amused at my story of the pub in Oval where only one person is allowed outside after 11pm to prevent any risk of disturbing nearby residents.
22:50. In my literary flitting and sipping I have resumed reading H G Wells' "Mr Britling Sees It Through". This extract almost anticipates my handwriting the better part of a century later:
"... a letter in that curiously unformed handwriting the stenographer and the typewriter are making an American characteristic,"
23:40. Just got second michelada. Maybe cos it's quiet barman asked me how I wanted the first. Apart from some confusion over how spicy I wanted it (I need to ask, and it turned out OK, but I think it was luck), I also had a choice of what form it would be served in. I am getting a bottle of beer and a prepared plastic glass (as, except for the plasticness, most other times I have ordered one) for 20, whereas the other night I got a big-pintish glass all prepared for 25. I could swear they were just putting one bottle of beer in those 25 ones, so this seems better value. (As noted the other night, a simple bottle of beer is 15 here.)
00:05. Asked if they had any Smiths or Morrissey. Guy at bar knew the band but didn't have any songs. We went through Oasis and Blur (he seemed very keen to accomodate me) before compromising on Judas Priest. :-)
00:35. Just got another. If anything it is getting busier in here. Not rammed though. I should be getting home soonish so as not to be tired tomorrow, I won't go nuts but we shall see how it goes I guess. It is my birthday. I don't want to plead that if I am visibly tired tomorrow (though I like to think, not that it's quite the same, I pulled me weight today in class despite being tired) but if I have to, so be it.
00:50. The micheladas are slipping down almost too easily. Am not drunk but not sober. Am not exactly enjoying myself but not exactly having a bad time either. I think I may have one more then leave. Vague musings/aspirations about a different lifestyle back in the UK.
That notwithstanding, I rather envy the clientele here their lifestyle. Even if (as I suspect) I earn ten times what they do (when I am working). But I am sure this is 'seeing the best of other people and the worst of oneself' at least in part.
We need teleportation and we need it yesterday... :-)
01:10. It's time to leave. I find myself necking my beer because I feel I ought to leave. It's too late a night given school tomorrow but sod it. I shall resist the temptation to surf and I am sure it will be fine. Minor hiccups though I suspect they are more a side effect of neckage than because I am badly drunk. I retain my typing skills and I don't feel that far gone.
In this sense the classes are a nuisance yet at the same time I would not have started to even have a feel for decentish places here if I wasn't making an extended stay due to studying, so it's swings and roundabouts.
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