Traveling to Mexico City and Home

This morning we would be saying farewell to Pátzcuaro and then driving to the Mexico City airport. Our flight was not scheduled to leave until 7:25 p.m., but we were not sure how thick the traffic would be—we remembered our 1.5 miles per hour exit from Mexico City three days earlier. We did not want to risk missing our flight, so we decided to leave Pátzcuaro by 10:00 a.m.

We were the only guests at the inn this morning, so Eva and Christina prepared a delicious dish that they thought the children would enjoy—crepes with fresh fruit and chocolate. Our stay at Casa Werma was just perfect, and we felt so fortunate to have been the guests of such wonderful hosts. Christina and Eva:

The toll roads between Pátzcuaro and Mexico City were smooth and convenient, and saved many hours of driving through all of the small towns on the secondary roads; however, they came with a fairly hefty price tag—the tolls for our journey today would be about $35. We needed to replenish our peso supply, and there was a bank 2 blocks away. However, the street that led directly to the bank was blocked by the market stalls during the day, so getting to the bank would not be a simple matter. We set off from the hotel in the opposite direction, hoping to circle back to the bank by making the right turns.  We had high hopes.  Here is a photo of the beginning--all of the trees on the right side of this photo are part of Casa Werma:

We made various turns here and there, having to backtrack at one point because we were blocked by another street market. We shared the narrow roads equally with cars, trucks, pedestrians and animals. Ben and I chuckled our way down an entire block, as we crept slowly behind this sauntering man:

We finally popped out onto a wider street (whew!), only to find ourselves back on the street that runs in front of our hotel (note the trees on the right):

We laughed and laughed!

We abandoned our bank-finding mission and headed out of town. We were pretty sure that we could find a bank in the city of Morelia, before the toll roads started.

Here are some pretty houses that we passed on our way to Morelia.

Once we reached Morelia, we spied a bank almost immediately.

With its stone buildings and beautiful churches, the city was just as beautiful as we remembered.

We had to detour around the market in front of the main church.

Along the side streets, we got a better view of Morelia, stretched out along the rolling hills.

We became enmeshed in traffic:

The other drivers were very polite, and the traffic crept smoothly along. These “Uno y Uno” (literally “One and One”) signs were posted at the many 4-way stops, instructing the drivers to take turns going forward. Once again, Ben and I were very impressed at the patience, consideration and mutual respect that the other drivers displayed.

We admired this striking bicycle:

On the edge of the historical district is the landmark Fuente Las Tarascas (Tarascan Fountain). The fountain shows three indigenous women holding up a huge basket full of fruits and vegetables.

Ben and I had seen the fountain on our previous drive—and while we admired the concept of three strong women, we were both in agreement that certain features about the figures indicated that the artist had been a man. (This is just our opinion!) When we returned home, I did some research trying to discover the artist’s identity, which apparently was not documented and is now unknown. Many conflicting stories exist about the fountain. One version is that the fountain was commissioned in 1937 by a Mexican colonel or wealthy man who was fascinated with the Purépecha women and culture. Originally, the people of Morelia protested against the fountain because of the figures’ bare chests; however, over time, the people allegedly came to view the figures as symbolizing the beauty and strength of indigenous women. The fountain mysteriously disappeared in the 1960’s; some say that it was stolen by a rich woman and taken to France, and some say that the wife of a Morelian governor requested that it be removed. In any event, the Morelian people asked the State of Michoacan to replace the fountain, and the present copy was installed in a new, more visible setting in 1968.

Shortly after the toll road began outside of Morelia, we stopped by these public restrooms:

They appeared to be brand new, and there was not yet an attendant charging a fee. These dead scorpions were on the sidewalk in front, so we cautiously investigated our stalls after entering.

In the distance, we could see the colorful row houses that were built on the outskirts of Morelia:

Here are some more houses that we passed on our drive:

We saw a lot of poverty throughout this trip. Genevieve and Sebastian saw hundreds and hundreds of homes in Mexico that were smaller than their “average-sized” bedrooms back in the United States. Genevieve commented that if she lived in Mexico, she would “probably have a different outlook on things.” I asked, “How so?” She thought for a moment and then replied, “Well, I would probably have a much smaller house. And I would probably only have about 10 toys, maybe less. And I think that I would probably appreciate the things around me more. I would view my life different than I do now.”  Hmmmmm . . . .

We saw a few churches in the distance:

Here was a church with more "modern" architecture:

We ooh-ed and ahh-ed over all of these pigs, which were piled up against each other:

Here are some views of the countryside:

At some point, the road signs became confusing, and we veered right when we should have gone left. We were heading toward Zitácuaro, which did not sound familiar.

When we reached the next toll booth (about 10 minutes down the road), we asked if we were heading toward Mexico City. The toll booth attendant pointed back in the direction we had just come; the workers stopped traffic, and we turned around.

We passed these colorful houses:

Our stomach started rumbling. We remembered the road-side barbacoa that had served us succulent pork tacos on our drive from Mexico City. We began looking for a similar place. We ended up at the Cabaña India Restaurant, a much fancier place that enticed us with a large modern playground for the children:

The service was impeccable. The children were having so much fun outdoors that Ben and I really didn’t care if the food was good—however, we were surprised to find that the food was excellent. Genevieve and I both ordered different kinds of soup, and the servers brought all of the separate soup ingredients (cooked) to our table and mixed them together in our bowls—mmmmm, fresh!

As we were leaving the restaurant, the manager asked how our experience had been. And when he saw me getting ready to take a photo of Ben and the children in the doorway, he insisted that I join them while he snapped the photo.

A view of more houses, with a close-up:

We finally reached the border of Mexico City!

At the final toll booth, entering Mexico City, we saw a man handing out blue face masks (like surgical masks or dust shields). We thought that perhaps there was a smog alert. (Mexico City has a long-standing reputation for bad air pollution; however, the city has implemented many policies over the last decade to reduce the pollution, and we found the air to be clear and “fine” while we were there.) When we reached the man, he was turned away from us and busy with something else, so we couldn’t ask what the masks were for. After we paid our toll and were driving off, he straightened up and held out some masks to us, which we declined, “No, gracias!”

We soon came to a stop in the Mexico City traffic, but we crawled forward at a much faster pace than before.

We needed to return our rental car to the Hertz office at the airport. However, the man who had rented us our car had not provided a map or directions on where the rental car return office was located (remember, he is the one who provided us a car with no gas and couldn’t give directions to the nearest gas station). As we neared the airport, our eyes scoured all of the signs for car return directions. Nothing. There were two terminals, with detailed listings about what was at each terminal, but no information on car returns. We finally decided that we would just go to Terminal 1 and ask someone; however, we somehow missed the exit for Terminal 1 and ended up past the airport. We pulled over to the side of the road and pondered what to do. We tried calling the “emergency number” on the Hertz paperwork, but we only reached a recorded message in Spanish that told us to call another number—but the new phone number was spoken so quickly that neither Ben nor I could figure it out after listening several times (thank goodness we didn’t have a “real” emergency).

We finally saw a taxi and managed to use our Spanish, combined with hand gestures, to convey that we wanted to pay him to lead us to the Hertz office at the airport. After much patience from the driver, and several misunderstandings on our part—many Spanish words sound similar to our untrained ears--we set off together. Here is our white knight:

Within 5 minutes, we were in front of the Hertz office. We were so happy!

Once inside the airport, we noticed that quite a few people were wearing paper masks over their noses and mouths. That is when we discovered that Mexico City was having an outbreak of swine flu and that there had purportedly been many deaths. Before checking into our flight, we had to fill out questionnaires that asked us if we had certain conditions (a cough, fever, congestion, etc.). Thank goodness we all felt fine, with no symptoms of illness.

We relaxed in the airport and waited 2 ½ hours for our flight. The children passed the time reading and playing DS games.

Our direct flight from Mexico City to San Francisco was smooth and took less than 5 hours. We all agreed that Mexico is a fabulous country. We definitely would like to return and explore more of the numerous small villages in different states, and perhaps visit some of the museums that we missed in Mexico City.

<< Day 17: Pátzcuaro; TzinTzunTzan