Guadala-holla! Pt 1

I'm back!

For those of you who didn't know I went anywhere, I just returned from Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico.  And since the news of late regarding Mexico hasn't been all that much about it's scenery, food and people but about kidnappings and beheadings by the drug lords, your first reaction might actually be one of complete horror.

On my friends' Facebook status was the messages, "I'm in Mexico!"  Each of them had a comment underneath like, "be careful", or "don't ride in cabs by yourself", etc.  That's great advice actually, but it's like when things are reported on in the media, they seem disproportionately dangerous.  As a matter of fact, I felt safer in downtown Guadalajara than I do at the wee hours of the night in downtown Atlanta.  Besides, if they kidnapped me, they'd get a pretty crappy ransom, if anything at all.  Perhaps they'd even end up having to pay someone to take me back.  I don't know.  As far as I'm aware, the ones who should be worried about being kidnapped are those with 'power' and/or influence.

Also, if you're involved in the business of distributing drugs over the border to North America and you have a competitor, you're a more reasonable target.  I mean, really - if they kidnap me they pretty much eradicate half of their country's GDP for drug sales.  (Totally kidding.)  But seriously, North Americans (I didn't say Americans because we're not the only ones inhabiting the Americas, though you'd like it otherwise, you greedy bitches), if you live in fear your entire life you're only cheating yourself.  Stop being so snotty.  There's plenty of creepy shit going on in our country alone.  That doesn't mean I'm retardedly aloof either.  A healthy dose of common sense might actually help you circumvent the nasty clutches of Natural Selection and posthumously being awarded the all too common Darwin Award.

So I left on Monday evening and arrived in Guadalajara around 8:45PM.  There was a two hour time difference so I had plenty of energy when we landed.  I was there with my friends, Dawn & Ali who were there for a stop on their tour to play at Teatro Diana at the end of the week, giving us plenty of time to rape the beautiful city with our cameras.  Around 10:30 that night, we headed out to find some sort of establishment, like a disctotheque or bar.  Nothing.

Guadalajara is like the Silicon Valley of Mexico.  It's a business district and I suppose we should have figured that, but business people need to party too, right?  Also, I was beginning to think that the neighborhood 'watering hole' was more of a North American/European thing.  (I could be wrong, though.)  When it comes to drinking, you'd be doing it in a restaurant or gastropub.  I didn't mind that though.  At about 50 pesos, you could get a pint of tequila at the neighborhood Oxxo, which is sort of like their version of our Walgreens, only less Jewish...and with tequila.  Jose Cuervo was about 120 pesos (just a little over $8.)  If you really wanted to spend money, you could go all out and get a Red Bull.  One of those was about as much as a pint of tequila.  We did it big-balla style and drank the Cuervo mixed with the Red Bull because we fucking can. Of course when we were out, we mainly had tequila-based drinks, though not entirely out of customary obligation.

On day two, we headed about 9 miles from the city to an *amusement park* called Selva Majica that was actually more like a semblance of a static amusement park with your standard mobile carnival rides.  For $120 pesos, you could get the unlimited rides option, which even included access to the 'club' in the back, which provided techno music, sultry ambiance, and...bubbles.  Sadly, I believe the bubble machine was out of commish.  No one else was in there though, but we just went in just to check it out.

 

 

 

Why is it that you can't add captions to the photos on Blogger?  Anyway, above is a photo of a few locals, and of the uvula of the only lady I was inside of that whole week, dammit.  This lady was actually intended for educational purposes and not for photo-ops near her butt-hole exit-door.  Further into the tour I realized photography wasn't allowed otherwise I'd have captured for you the creepy fetus wriggling about near the end of the attraction (and the butt-hole exit-door).

The creepiest attraction there (and rightfully so) was the Haunted House, or Casa Embrujada.  First of all, my Spanish is okay - but its usefulness ceases when attempting to decipher dialects of the Mexican monster persuasion.  So not only was it absolutely terrifying not being able to see a thing, we were being screamed at in an indecipherable, deep and very baritone monster voice that was obviously growing more impatient by the second.  I guess it would have been a bad time to ask for a translator inside the mansion?  The ghost's fury proliferated after realizing we failed to acquiesce his many urgent requests.  I made out something that sounded like "LINE UP AGAINST THE WALL!" I wanted to find that wall.  I wanted to find that wall so fucking hard, but I couldn't.  Eventually he was telling us to follow him in another room.  Like the stupid broads in those B-horror movies would do, we decided it would be a good idea to do just that.  It was standard stuff - screaming, popping up behind us, slamming gates, screaming at us to shut-up.  (¡Cállate!).

For as tiny as the house looked on the outside it was sure spacious as fuck.  Felt like we were in there for some time.  That was the most frightening haunted mansion I've ever been in.  If you ever want to really give your friends or children a run for their money, go into a haunted mansion and request that they scr
eam the instructions to you in Klingon, or something.

A few more pics from Selva Majica and we'll move along:

 

  

  

As we left the park to head back to the city, a few kids greeted us outside in the front to ask us if they could have our wristbands.  The kids thought they hit the jackpot because not only would they get into the park, but with Platinum wristband status.  Ooh..Ahh.  Unfortunately, one of their friends was the odd man out without a wristband, but I wasn't going to worry too much about that.

  

One thing I wish I had more time to do was ride one of those tour buses throughout Guadalajara.  Usually I'm not one for wanting to do touristy shit but that's only when I had time to do research on the architecture before arriving.  However, we still made good use of our time by going to the local markets to pore over the wares and taste some of the foods.  My friends really loved the Horchata, which is a Mexican drink made of rice, almonds, cinnamon, lime zest, and sugar.  If it weren't a delicious enough drink in its own right, its alleged functionality for curing a hangover is a nice little side effect.  

We found a nice little place to eat in the plaza that even served a Prince Erick.  (Name spelled just as mine and everything!)  I know this seems trivial, but you gotta understand that throughout the entirety of my life I was one of those kids who stood forlorn by the rotating display of personalized keychains, coffee mugs, and bicycle license plates that always found his name sans the K.  So ya damn right I'mma take a g'damned picture of the fucking menu declaring me a prince and spelled the right fucking wrong way for once. 

I'm aware that I look like a complete nerd here, but being accosted by feral women in heat gets tiresome after some time, so I specifically asked for prescription babe deterrents.

I don't even know what it was I ordered, but it came in one of those big stone bowls that is used for grounding dried corn which is then used to make corn tortillas.    So while we were sitting down enjoying our live music, food, and lively conversation, fueled by way of our something or other round of Margaritas , some clown (literally) came by and made Dawn a blow up bunny and a different peddler sold me some roses that I of course gave to my friends.

 

And for those of you wondering, does this actually mean I'm a sweet guy?  Fuck no!  I just wanted to enjoy my dinner without someone peddling their wares up in my area!  I mean, shit - we hadn't been sat down for a fifteen minutes and a clown, a CLOWN is at our table, blowing into balloons and assembling them so that they may take on all kinds of forms!  If my friends want to think I'm a great guy because I handed over a few pesos for a latex bunny and few flower corpses, then so be it! We all win!  ;) 

 

Alright, my fatigue is rendering me a bit ornery so I'm getting some rest and I'll be up at 1 PM (in your face, ex-JPMorgan Chase co-workers that still have jobs!)  I'll update on the rest of my trip in another post.  

zzz...