Last Sunday I went for a hike at Desierto de los Leones. This is a misnomer as the area lacks both lions and deserts. It is, however, the oldest national park in Mexico City. Boasting just over 4600 acres, the park is centered around a convent of the barefoot Carmelites that was built in the early 1600s. It’s been a protected area in the Sierra de las Cruces mountain range since the late 1800s and currently only about 20% is accessible to the public. I hadn’t been before and had wanted to go the old convent and surrounding for some time. I had, foolishly, thought that being the site of a convent might have prevented the commercial chaos centered around the parking lots of these types of parks. I was mistaken. The plus side being many of the restaurants had wifi, so there’s a possibility I could get an Uber if I ever wanna take Leo.
After parking we started up a gentle incline. It was an absolutely beautiful morning, a little chilly, but sunny. The path we took was shady and light filtered through trees and the occassional ruins, presumably from the order. Then, of course, because Liz, we set off into bramble, forging our own path.
Liz, whom I love dearly, is really really terrible at setting expectations around “basic” hikes. They are rarely basic. This one was 8 miles round and almost 3000ft of gain. So… umm not terrible, but most definitely not a gentle incline. I was huffing and puffing. Then things got awkward.
One woman, an American, was really struggling. And in her struggle she felt so American. She refused help of any sort from multiple folks, was frustrated if someone waited for her, and expressed surprise (fairly, although a bit passive aggressively) at the intensity of the hike. Being American myself, I recognized, empathized, and also kinda abhored these traits. In hiking, I’ve noticed that other cultures handle this with considerably more grace, asking for and accepting help. Not placing blame on anything, either themselves or the conditions, it’s just the present reality. But for her, we got accustomed to going ahead and stopping and waiting, a solid 15-20 minutes for her to join us. Adding to the tension, a lovely Morrocan who splits her time between Barcelona and Mexico was with us. Liz knows her well, but she’s definitely who is on a hike to push her physical limits, so this was not sitting particularly well with her.
And after a particularly grueling climb where we pierced through the forest and into a grassy plain we waited and waited to no avail. Liz kept asking passerbys if they’d seen her. One person finally said yes and that she looked settled into a spot. The group decided to push ahead to the nearby summit.
It was a quiet almost sacred place. Flat and barren, but for a decorated and leafless tree in the center of a make shift fence with ribbons tied to it. Liz told us that it was a ceremonial space and that groups climbed to this point for sunrise ceremonies.
We didn’t make it to the second summit having assessed that it would take us considerably longer than Liz initially planned for (as is our 6 hour 7km outing clocked at a 9 hour and 8+ mile outing) in no small part out of concern for our missing group member. Liz decided to dash down the mountain to find her more rapidly.
The walk back was quieter than usual and somewhat awkward, but we made it back to the parking lot with no further incident. We grabbed tacos and some of us grabbed cervezas, but it was kinda a quiet meal compared to others. The general awkwardness meant that we didn’t go explore the convent, which means I don’t have pictures of it, so a return visit will be required.
The week slogged on by and after spending most of the week highly unmotivated, Thursday and Friday were bursts of activity in which I presented before the board, moved forward the database transition project in a meaningful way, determined that I’m going to write my research paper on something regarding the USMCA and Mexican seed sovereignty, mopped the apartment, sent my art to get framed, and made several other important strides in living 101, including siginificant attempts to get a Mexican phone number (I’m so close) and scheduling a hair appointment (badly needed).
The cellphone thing is real annoying. I first attempted to get an eSIM on Telcel’s website. They’ve got one that’s 2400 pesos for a year of service. Limited data, but I mostly I need it to do things like get back on water delivery and some other weird one offs, so I thought I might as well go with the best coverage in Mexico in case I’m somewhere random and Verizon is like “yeah, no, we don’t do that”. When I went to go pay, with my US credit card, it wouldn’t process and just kept saying “We have tourism plans for you!” But I don’t really need an overpriced plan that I have to renew every 30 days.
And I could not get past go.
So after school Saturday morning, to the Telcel store I went. And waited. And then discovered that my temporary residency ID was insufficient and I need my passport. I was out of time before my hair appt, so went and got my hair did.
The hair salon, recommended by Fran, is near my house in an office like building, which is pretty common here. I signed in and saw from the sign that Kauri is located on piso 2. So I booked it up the stairs to find a locked door and retreated back down to get on the elevator. When it opened at 2, I encountered another locked door, like immediately on the other side of the elevator entry, locked door, cannot get off elevator. Wound up back at reception to be like “Where the heck is this place?” at which point I am told I have to go to three and go across the bridge. And this is where my Spanish fails me. In English, I would probably have more questions, in Spanish, I count on this to be obvious.
And actually it wasn’t too bad. Though by American standards this building is way too small to have a bridge. I am not in a high rise. I am in a residential section. This could be a not terribly large apartment building. But across the bridge and down some stairs and into a narrow hallway lined with plants I went. And now my hair is cut. The vibe was fun complete with a 4 month old Xoloitzcuintle pup named Toni who was up for some play and adorbs. I would never have thought hairless dogs would grow me, but they have. Though now having touched one, I also NEVER want one.
Ericka is a lovely woman who grew up in Monterrey, but spent quite a few years in the states before returning to Mexico City and opening her own salon. She was shocked by how much color my hair absorbed. And proved once again that no stylist initially believes me about how my hair just sucks up color. But they do after.
Sunday, I revisited Telcel. This time I decided to make it part of a larger trip to City Market and to get my tarjeta naranja. So something that’s very Mexico and very not US. Many of the grocery stores are owned by the same parent company (very US) and they share an awards programs offered via the Tarjeta Naranja which is a physical card attached to your account that gets scanned (very old school US). In order to get this tarjeta you cannot go to any of their associated markets (very not US), you have to physically visit either a La Comer or City Market, these are the larger markets and are considerably more of a trek for me than Sumesa which is where I would be using said orange card.
It’s been unseasonably warm, in the 80s, however Sunday cooled off and as I headed out there was even a little rain. First stop the Telcel in the Parque Delta mall. a nice little 2 mile walk. From what I can tell, malls here do not have maps. The first Telcel I encountered told me that I had to go to the other Telcel on the 3rd floor and to the right. Ok. I arrived, explained my need and was given a ticket with a number, ala DMV. And then I sat there for an hour.
I finally got to a person, re explained my need and they proceeded to help me. Messing with my phone and my passport for about 45 minutes. They then showed me my Mexican number and told me it couldn’t be activated till after my identity was confirmed, so they wouldn’t take payment and that I should come back to a Telcel the next day to activate it. WTF. I asked if I could do it online, they said it was better if I came in. Which in Mexico may mean, no you can’t do it online. Or it may mean they get a commission. So that’s still on the agenda, but I do feel closer.
Next up, I walked another few miles through Navarte to City Market. I do really like this neighborhood. It’s quiet and not as hip and just more neighborhoody feeling.
There I learned I do in fact need an active Mexican phone line to receive a Tarjeta Naranja. Dammit. However, my attitude has notably shifted. I am unsurprised and unperturbed by this course of events. It will happen when it happens and I feel on the journey.
In class on Saturday we played with the Country Comparison Tool which allows you to add countries and gives them ratings across 6 metrics, I played with the US, Chile & Mexico as three countries I have some first hand knowledge of.
I find this fascinating. Some of the metrics are unsurprising, power distance relates to the perceived impact an individual can have on systems of power, like politics and is thus unsurprising. But I was fascinated with teh idea that Chile is high on uncertainty avoidance as I had some notion that perhaps countries with less robust safety nets would be less tolerant of uncertainty since it is in someways a more fundamental aspect of daily life, but Chile is blowing that idea out of the water.
Tacos of the Week: Hostal de los Quesos
This was a little desperate. My goal had been another place, but they are apparently closed on Sundays. So we wound up here, kitty corner from City Market. Tacos milanesa de res con aguacate. A truly American sized portion of avocado aka disappointing. Milanesa, for the uninitiated, is generally delicious. It’s a very thin piece of meat, commonly beef or chicken, lightly breaded and pan fried to crispy brown perfection.
The tacos were fine. The atmosphere was weird. Will not return. But I hadn’t actually ever had a milanesa taco, so now that’s done.
Year One Project 
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