The next stop on our planned itinerary had been Laguna Catemaco, a lovely lake area in the state of Veracruz, mostly undiscovered by non-Mexicans. But after all we had endured on this trip – traffic jams, unexpected detours, getting lost in one of the world’s largest cities, unscrupulous policia – we just wanted to get home to Playa del Carmen as soon as possible. Can you blame us?

So, we set out for an eight-hour drive to the city of Villahermosa in the state of Tabasco, comforted by our familiarity with this stretch of highway and with our destination city. This would be our third time in Villahermosa, not because of any love for the city, but for it’s status as the only city on a very long stretch of road. Our first pass through this city set us off on a wretchedly desperate hunt for cat-friendly lodging and eventually ended in a wretchedly desperate room. However, in our second pass, we discovered the motor inns mentioned in Back in Mexico.

In our limited Mexican motor inn experience, Villahermosa’s “Motel Costa del Sol” is the best of its’ kind. The drive through registration and private garage attached to your room is designed to give the utmost privacy for your clandestine interludes or, in our case, for sneaking in pets. And for the low price of $30, we enjoyed a king-sized bed, cable TV with the … uh … premium channels included, tasty room service dinner at an added fee, and one … uh … protective device gratis. We vegged, watching a Tom Hanks movie and Desperate Housewives. By morning, we felt refreshed and ready to move on to the city of Campeche.

Campeche is a seaport town with many colorful buildings, giving it a bit of a Caribbean feel. But the first thing we noticed as we drove through Campeche was the stares — from men whose dress pegged them as laborers. We have traveled through many Mexican cities, eaten in local restaurants, hung out in local bars, encountered Mexican laborers, business people, students and others, but never have we been stared at like that. Despite being obvious gringos, we rarely even garner a second glance. Were they menacing stares? Curious stares? We never did solve the mystery. And subsequent Google searches for such phrases as “Campeche stares” proved fruitless.

Despite being the low season in Campeche, we found that the gringos with the cat were unwelcome at hotel after hotel. We would try one last hotel, and if they wouldn’t take us, we were moving on to Merida. As luck would have it, the friendly folks at the recently renovated Hotel Lopez decided to take a chance on us. We parked the car in the hotel’s lot a block away, and made several trips transporting our kitty and all her kitty stuff, John’s bike, and all the other stuff that was piled on top of our car back to our room. The hotel room that was on the third floor all the way in the back of the hotel! No elevator! Exhausted, we headed out for a relaxing dinner and then explored Campeche a bit.

We found the pleasant zocalo, but all the action appeared to be on the malecon (boardwalk). Stretching for two miles, Campeche’s malecon is clean and full of walkers, runners and bicyclists. Although Campeche fronts the ocean, there are no watersports, and signs warn water enthusiasts of the polluted water. But we were content to just stroll along people-watching and admiring the sometimes quirky sculptures.

Although we enjoyed Campeche, we were anxious to get this trip over with and get back home to Playa del Carmen. So, after one night, we found ourselves transporting all our crap from the hotel room back to the car again. Loaded up, we were so ready to exit the parking garage and be home in six hours. But things don’t always go according to plan. Crunch! In our hurry to get home, we forgot to make sure that John’s bike would clear the garage exit. Crap! What else could go wrong on this trip?! John said: “Bad things happen in threes.” 1. Mexico City debacle, 2. Puebla policia, 3. Campeche bike crunch

Instantly, about five or six men (the aforementioned laborers) converged on our car, clamoring over each other trying to help us. Honestly, we would have preferred to handle it ourselves, but they were anxious to earn a propina (tip). One of the guys un-wedged the bike from the roof, earned his tip, and they all ran off. But it wasn’t over for us. We were left with a damaged bike, a dismantled and partially damaged roof rack (with the roof rack instructions somewhere in Chicago), and a damaged garage roof.

When John asked the garage owner if he could reimburse him for the damage, the guy looked at him like he was nuts and adamantly refused. One problem taken care of. Upon further examination, only John’s bike seat sustained damage. His bike would survive. Yay! Problem two solved. Now, on to problem three — the roof rack. Viewing the mess we had created, we at first entertained the notion of just cramming everything into the back seat with our poor kitty who was now meowing earnestly in the 100 degree heat. Instead, John put his spatial relations skills to use, and patiently and methodically rebuilt our roof rack despite missing a few parts.

We re-loaded our stuff (bike temporarily left off) onto the mended roof rack, and cautiously left the garage. Six hours later, our roof rack and our sanity remained intact as we rolled into Playa del Carmen. It’s good to be home!

More Campeche Photos

So … Puebla. After our harrowing ride through Mexico City, we settled in for a much-needed 2 night break in Puebla, a large city in central Mexico which attracts both business and leisure visitors. Puebla’s historic center, a Unesco World Heritage Site, boasts beautifully preserved colonial architecture with many buildings sporting painted ceramic tiles (azulejos). A church rounds every corner (seriously!). Historically significant buildings are signposted with brief blurbs in Spanish and English. It was the perfect place for our aimless wanderings.


To fuel our walking tour, we snacked on perfect churros (check out La Churreria Antigua Catedral if you’re in town, but skip the greasy donuts), scrumptious baked goods (only rivaling those of Mexico’s Walmart bakeries — go ahead and laugh), and tacos arabe. Mmmm … tacos arabe. Mexico, and particularly Puebla, has a sizable Lebanese population. The Lebanese brought with them their practice of roasting meat on a vertical spit rotisserie. Adapted for pork (How do they explain that to Allah?), these have become very popular all over Mexico, only with regional differences. In the Yucatan Peninsula where we live, the pork is marinated with a local spice called achiote (or annatto), and called tacos al pastor. In central Mexico, tacos arabe are herbed pork on pan arabe, a cross between a tortilla and a pita. Served with steamed onions, these are mmm mmm good!

Unfortunately, our stay in Puebla ended on a sour note when we encountered one of Puebla’s “finest” on our way out of town. Considering we had done nothing wrong, we assumed we’d take care of this annoyance with a little “consideration”. Not so lucky. After an hour of intimidation tactics and seizure of John’s driver’s license, we finally gave in to his outrageous mordida demand. Only time we’ve been robbed in Mexico! Angered by the incident, we planned to file an official complaint and publish the guy’s name and badge number. However, a native Mexican and former resident of Mexico City dissuaded us from doing so as she believed it could come back to haunt us. Judging from recent Puebla news, she’s probably right.

We’ve probably said too much already. If you don’t hear from us soon, check the Puebla jails. Oh wait, we know you won’t bother.

Puebla Photos

It is also the major economic and cultural center of Mexico, resplendent with renowned museums, peaceful city parks and swanky shopping and eating establishments. For the latter reason, we had always hoped to one day see Mexico City, arriving by plane and being guided by a reputable professional in private, unmarked transport. For the former reason, we vowed to never drive through Mexico City on one of our trips to Playa del Carmen or Chicago.

But Mexico is full of surprises. 4 1/2 hours into our drive to Cuautla (previously mentioned in Long & Winding Road), we found ourselves in Mexico City. In Mexico, all roads lead to Mexico City. Avoiding it requires getting off the toll roads and using two-lane highways (one lane each way) usually with no shoulders, but sometimes with potholes. Everyone, and their brother who drives a huge truck traveling at 35 mph, takes these roads. Getting past these slow trucks requires speeding into the opposing lane of traffic to pass. A number of Mexicans seem to have a different sense of spatial relations than we do, as they take chances when passing that make our hearts race. These highways also take us through small towns, which have speed bumps, which have enterprising and daring souls selling items ranging from handmade hats to chile peppers to batteries. It can make for a very interesting drive … but not a drive you make when you’re in a hurry.

We had experienced this before and still preferred it to the risks of Mexico City. Previously, we had circumvented the city on the east side and stayed in the agreeable town of Pachuca. As much as we like Pachuca, we wanted something new this time around, and chose to go west and stay in Cuautla. This was a new route for us, and turned out to be even slower and definitely more confusing than the eastern route. But we persevered. We made the first 200 miles slowly, but surely. We were looking for highway 106. Mexican highway signs often do not list highway numbers. They simply show one of the cities that the highway will take you to. It’s hard to say which city it will be. It could be a city 30 miles away, or 300 miles away. If there are multiple signs for the same highway, it’s very possible that each sign will show a different city. We deal with this by memorizing all the cities along our route so that we can make split-second decisions when confronted with sudden turnoffs.

We finally find the turnoff for 106, although it’s signposted as highway 6 and we can’t find the city it supposedly goes to on the map. Close enough. There are many towns, many potholes, many speed bumps, and the driving is very, very slow. But at least the town names are matching up with what our map shows. We’re in the right place. Cool. Until … a police officer is blocking the road. We see someone else try to get through and talk to the cop. Rejected. Uhhh … what now? Our options are to take an even worse road for an even longer distance. It could take all night. Our other option is to drive through Mexico City. If we did that, we could stay in Puebla, an hour outside Mexico City and just off the toll road. Once we got through Mexico City, it would be simple. And we’ve been wanting to see Puebla anyway.

It’s not a decision we made easily, but we made it. We were going through Mexico City. Libby was scared. It was her turn to drive. John said he would drive. Libby was a little relieved … until she began her role as navigator by looking at a map of Mexico City. It certainly did not look straightforward. She would have her work cut out for her. 5 minutes into town, and already a wrong turn was made. No problem. We’ll take the long way around. Hopefully, less traffic that way. We got onto the road we needed — a crazy, high-speed loop around the city where cars took no heed of lane indicators. Who says you need any more than 1 inch of space between side mirrors? It’s almost like they changed a two-lane road into a three-lane road simply by repainting the lines.

We spotted a sign for the tollway to Puebla. Yay! This wouldn’t be as bad as we had thought. We followed the signs to Puebla … and followed … and … hey! Where did the signs to Puebla go? We were approaching the airport, which meant we overshot the highway already. No problem. There’s another way we can go. And this way will be even simpler. Um … we should have hit the highway by now. And so it went … for 2 hours. We spotted many signs to Puebla, but they never went anywhere. Apparently, the signs are merely a warning that a turnoff is coming up, but it is up to you to decide where you actually need to turn off.

We weren’t exactly lost. We knew more or less where we were. We just couldn’t figure out how to get onto the highway. We went past modern office buildings in the downtown, past the international airport, through middle-class neighborhoods, a few markets and through slummy neighborhoods. We stuck out like sore thumbs. Two gringos and a curious cat with Illinois license plates and a Trek bike and Thule cargo bag attached to our Yakima car roof rack. If ever we were to become victims of a crime in Mexico, this would be it.

John, being of masculine persuasion, was determined to keep driving around until we figured our way out of this mess. Libby started considering other options. We could ask a police officer for help. But Mexico City police have been known to be corrupt. We could hire a taxi to lead us out of the city. But taxi drivers have been known to be part of the crime problem. We could go to a fancy-schmancy downtown hotel and ask for a private driver to lead us out of the city. But that would require navigating through the downtown area. Desperation … setting in.

We finally remembered our Garmin GPS unit and pulled it out. Mexico mapping software is definitely lacking, but it was good enough to show us the highway we needed. We headed in the direction of the highway, and miraculously found the frontage road. Ten minutes and a laborious turn around later, and we were finally on our way out of Mexico City and heading towards Puebla! Hallelujah! See the yellow path on the map at the right for our misguided route.

Disclaimer: Some of the negative comments we have made about Mexico City were based not on our personal experience, but on resources such as our Lonely Planet Mexico travel guide, the U.S. State Department, and insights from current and former Mexico City residents. Although Mexico City certainly has its problems, we certainly don’t want to dissuade anyone from visiting. We still hope to enjoy this amazing city one day. However, we would encourage potential visitors to do their research first. Be prepared and then enjoy.

The longer than expected drive to Patzcuaro was due to unwanted forays through towns along the way. Normally, the toll roads divert you around the cities. Either by our error or by design, we ended up in one of those cities along the toll road. (Irapuato, you might be a nice enough city normally, but getting through you back to the highway sucked!) And the last 100 miles off the toll road took us through many towns. Normally, these entail a simple, albeit slow, drive through town. However, on this day, every city seemed to be doing construction and set us off on long, poorly signposted detours. Getting through each of these cities took anywhere from 20-60 minutes. Luckily, just when we were sure we were lost, we’d finally see another sign for the highway.

When we finally arrived, we found Patzcuaro to be a small, quiet town that pretty much shut down by 9pm. Aside from the requisite church on the zócalo (main plaza), all the architecture looked pretty much the same. In fact, everything in the historic center was painted white and burnt orange to look the same. Nice, but a bit boring. To be fair, we didn’t spend much time in town so we may very well have missed some of its’ nicer features.

On the bright side, we were accepted at the first hotel we tried despite the front desk clerk’s fear of cats. We’ve often suspected that many Mexicans are either afraid of cats or just plain don’t like them. We often see horror in the eyes of front desk clerks upon mentioning our gata. Bringing a cat into a Mexican hotel room seems to be about the equivalent of trying to bring a pet alligator into an American Holiday Inn.

After a brief night in Patzcuaro, we planned to head off for a night in the town of Cuautla, about 50 miles from Mexico City. Cuautla is known for its’ hot springs, which we planned to soak our tense muscles in, and is a popular weekend escape for Mexico City residents.

For one particular drive (Zacatecas to Patzcuaro), SCT estimated a time of 5 hours and 16 minutes. It actually took us 9 hours. So much for our joy ride. Of course, about 30 minutes of that was us going the wrong way. And we never did find 2 of the toll roads that SCT said we should take; although they would have only taken us very short distances, they would have been faster than their free alternatives. Oh yeah, and then, there was that hour-long wait to cross a bridge that some maniacal speeding jerk drove off of. You may think we should be more sensitive, but we have little sympathy for those who choose to drive blindingly fast into dangerous curves or while passing in the opposing lane of traffic. They put all of our lives in jeopardy. We could write a whole blog entry on driving in Mexico … and probably will … one day.

Our journey into Mexico began with immigration just over the border. This time around was a little more hectic than last as we were less prepared, but playing the dumb tourist helped us out in the long run. We even got lucky and won the border lottery; we got a green light and didn’t have to stop for a customs inspection. In case you’ve never been to Mexico, you might find it amusing that passing through customs entails a sort of stoplight. Green light … go. Red light … pull over, amigo. It’s the same in the airports, but in the airport you actually get to press the button that randomly generates a color yourself. We made it through without any of the complications we had been worried about. We love you, Puente Colombia border crossing. (We’ve heard horror stories of the nearby border point at Nuevo Laredo.)

Although we aren’t big fans of Monterrey and its crazy traffic, we ended up there after 10 hours of driving, and needed to find a place to stay. We naively thought we’d get a room at the Best Western we stayed at previously with its comfy beds and wifi in the rooms. Finding our way back to the hotel was a nightmare because someone in Monterrey city planning must have read our blog and decided to improve the traffic situation by adding overhead bypass lanes. During construction, traffic was diverted through winding local streets. Nothing like sending 4 lanes of rush hour traffic through crowded one-lane residential streets. With no detour signs to direct us around the construction, we just followed the chain of bumper to bumper traffic until we were back on the main route. We eventually made it to the hotel, only to find that they had no rooms left. Oops. Knowing that Monterrey was not a cat-friendly city, we headed north to a highway auto hotel aka motor inn. (”What’s your price tonight?” Any Night Ranger fans out there?)

Although these types of hotels were good to us in the past, with their “ask no questions” attitude, the free “cable entertainment”, and their convenient “hourly rates” (9 hour minimum, for the record), we made a major mistake in judgment; we paid our $210 pesos before inspecting the room first. (Puedo ver el cuarto? We have that line down pat.) The resident inhabitants of the room were quick to find cover once we disturbed them by turning on the light. We ended up sleeping with the lights on during the night, to keep the more timid ones from saying hello. Although we’re not normally morning people, we were anxious to get an early start at 6am the following day.

After a very scenic 6 hour drive through the mountains, we arrived in our next destination, Zacatecas city in Zacatecas state. (Mexicans had a habit of naming their major cities after their states, or vice versa.) Like many other small mountain cities we’ve been in, Zacatecas is located in a valley between the mountains. Although this location was probably great for keeping out intruders in prior centuries, the city has grown and car traffic along with it. Noxious fumes from ancient city buses and those old non-environmentally friendly VW bugs become trapped in the valley. No emissions testing going on here. Aside from the pollution, Zacatecas is a wonderful city, and we chose to spend an extra night here so that we’d have a full day to explore.

Luckily, we were able to secure a “luxury villa” in the Hotel Don Miguel, which we referred to as “that huge yellow monstrosity”. (Our hotel was the biggest structure in town, and is still growing.) Although lacking a marble bathroom and his and hers spa robes, our room certainly was a luxury to us after the previous night’s stay in Monterrery. Despite the hard bed, we enjoyed sleeping in late and then headed out to explore the city. We found Zacatecas to be a cosmopolitan town with sophisticated eateries and bars. We had a delicious lunch at the French La Creperie. Next, we donned hard hats and boarded a rail car for a tour of one of Zacatecas’ mines. Zacatecas is a silver city, although, gold, quartz, calcite (and probably other elements we don’t know the Spanish words for) have also been mined. The mine we toured was no longer in operation as it is in the city center and could cause serious damage to its’ surroundings in the event of an explosion.

After understanding only about 30% of our tour in Español (silver … miners … children … working … dangerous, etc.), we headed for higher ground. Zacatecas’ dominant hill, La Bufa, affords a great view of the city, so we headed up via the Swiss built cable car, Teleférico. Our cable car operator spoke perfect English after having lived in the suburbs of Chicago and Racine, Wisconsin for 16 years. He told us that Zacatecas’ winters are even colder than Chicago’s. At an elevation of 2445 meters, Zacatecas is quite chilly even in the summer. We were thankful to have heating in our hotel room.

We decided to walk down the hill instead of returning by the Teleférico as we love randomly roaming through Mexican towns. Unfortunately, the menacingly dark cloud cover finally materialized into a good rain about halfway down the hill. We ducked into a tiny convenience shop and enjoyed some snacks as we watched the rain in the doorway. A random man walked by and wished us a ‘buenas tardes’ (good afternoon). When the rain slowed down, we ran out and made a couple of wrong turns (must have been fate as it gave us the opportunity to help a distraught mother move her wheelchair-bound daughter around an obstacle), and eventually found ourselves in tourist central. There we flagged down a cab to take us directly to the door of our villa (at the top of yet another hill). We rushed in, turned up the heat and removed those wet clothes.

We headed to Patzcuaro the next morning, but we’ll leave you here for now. Stay tuned.