Mexico City: WTF?

Well, holy crap, is about all I have to say; sweet Lord, may also suffice in describing my mood.

Marissa and I hit the road and hit it early. We said goodbye to San Miguel de Allende and we were off and running. We listened to some amazing NPR recordings and flew towards Mexico City (Which will from now on be referred to as DF, which is short for Distrito Federal, which is what the locals refer to it as).

DF is a city within the state of Mexico (there is a state called Mexico, like California--Imagine if one of our 50 states was called The United States). In any event, in the STATE of Mexico there is a policy entitled "No Hay Circula" which means that depending on the last number of your license plate, your car is not allowed to drive on certain days. Well, my car ends in a 6 and just so happens that the 1st Saturday of each month is the day when I am not allowed to drive; today happens to be the 1st Saturday of the month.

Crossing into the state of Mexico we paid a fee to drive the toll road, and the peasant people pointed at my plate and waved their finger in my direction. I asked the toll booth man, and he said we needed to wait until 10pm in order to leave. We paid the toll, and crossed, and decided to go for it--we were 35mi from our destination.

We sailed along, and I noticed that no other cars had a 6 at the end of their plates; I attempted to put it out of my mind. About 10mi from our destination I see two cops on the right hand side, they flag us down, and I pull over--in retrospect, I think I could have kept going and I would have been fine, but who knows. They approach the car and tell us that we are breaking the law, and so the fun begins. He tells me, from what I can understand that I cannot drive until Tuesday, and that I am going to have to impound my car. I ask if I can pay the fine and continue on to my destination--he kicks back a number of $500 US dollars. I drop my jaw, and say that we do not have anymore money--in retrospect I should I have continued to play this card; I think I could have gotten away with paying much less. He decides to take us to a ATM. I park the car, and I lock the car with the keys, Marissa, and the the dogs inside. I go stand in a line while the filthy cops wait for their mordida (bribe). There is a line of 25 people for one ATM. I ask the lady next to me about cops and the "No hay circula" rule. She says that it is a shame, but unfortunately that is the way they are here, and that I must pay.

After what seems to be an eternity I make my way back to the car. The cop tells me to sit down in the driver seat, and makes me count the money. I could not get the amount he wanted, but I have about 6000 pesos which is about $400 US maybe a little more--he seems to think this will work. Before giving him the money, I demand my car documentation back, and he obliges. He said he also would write us a note for getting to my house, but it was the biggest piece of shit I have ever seen. The note was written on the back of a telephone book advertisement--uhg!

He then tells us that we should follow him and he will take us to DF. As soon as he is on his bike and my car is fired up, I turn on the GPS and Constance guides us onto a different freeway. We see the cops and plow forward. My nervousness of driving in the fray of DF is gone, I am more concerned about getting to my destination. I bob and weave through traffic like a goddamn madman; all the while, Marissa has her eagle eyes on a swivel for any possible troublesome policia.

We make it on to my street, Rosas Moreno, and arrive at our long awaited destination; there is a parking spot directly outside. I am praying that Hector, my neighbor, is home, because I have been unable to call him--HE IS! He greets us, and we recount our heroic tale. He grimaces when I told him how much I paid, but he says that we did the best we could on our first day here. He helps us unload some stuff from the car, and gives us a few of the ins and outs on the facility. Later he returns with a large cold beer and puts it in our fridge.

The apartment is better than I remember--it is huge and partially furnished. The living room has a large couch, two huge bean bags, a tapestry and a mirror on the wall, and a rug to tie the room together. The dining room has a table, a desk, some stools, a white board and a poster. The bedroom has a twin bed that will have to do for now. the kitchen has some plates and bowls, a table and chairs. The roof has a couch, a ton of potted plants, a hammock, a BBQ, a couch, and a second bathroom.

This feels strange and awesome at the same time. It is hard for me to fathom that this is it. This is where I have been driving to for the last two weeks. This is my house, by myself, for the next two years. I have arrived.

I look around at my scattered possessions, strewn across two rooms in a haphazard explosion. My car sits down below and locals point at the California plates as they pass by. Marissa cleans the kitchen, the dogs sleep, and I feel a nervous vibration--I am home--soon this will feel like home.

Pictures soon...I promise!