Going The Distance

Well. Kind of. A photographer and journalist from the daily local newspaper, El Mural, comes round to meet us. We have a half hour photoshoot, where he asks for “besos”, and we pose in front of Guadalajara’s Monumento a los Ninos Heroes, precariously parked on one of the city’s busiest roundabouts. We are then interviewed (in direct sunlight on the roofterrace because Mike thought it was a great shot and wanted to film. Sweaty.) by Rebeca, a journalist at El Mural, for about an hour (sunburn to prove it). Good questions, good chat, good fun. Or should I say Guad fun.

Carlos then takes us to the football: a derby of Guadalajara’s lesser two professional teams, Atlas v Los Estudiantes. Flags bought, buckets of Sol and we’re ready to watch. Atlas is the more popular team (though we’ve been told we’re Estudiantes so we know who we’re hollering for). The chants and dances are coordinated – but sadly the Mexican Wave attempts never make it past our stand. A Mexican Wave in Mexico! Denied! Atlas win (boo), Mike and I are tipsy and still totally rubbish at Spanish, and we pass out early.

We head from the 40 degree heat, 83% humidity of Mazatlan towards the wonderfully cooler Guadalajara. The former was a lovely coastal town, but Guadalajara is a raging metropolis: Mexico’s second biggest city. As we enter it, at dusk, we can already feel what an awesome city it is. Not least because our hosts are the party-loving, English-speaking, fab sons of a man we met at a petrol station outside Los Mochis. Carlos, soon to be launched in a Mexican boyband called Sonus (you heard it here first), and his younger sister live in a penthouse in the old part of Guadalajara. And it’s awesome. 4 students live in the flat; it has designs and photos on the wall, dirty washing piled up in the kitchen sink, and some of the most amazing views over the city. We arrive, there is a houseparty raging on the roof terrace (one of the housemates has turned 20 – how old do we feel?!), we drink with some Aussies then head out with the boys. First, to another birthday party where we meet and chat to people from Honduras, El Salvador, Equador… (all have been made to promise places to stay later on), then on to a slick, urban, London-like restaurant (you can take the kids out of media wankerland…), then on to a salsa club where Carlos and his girlfriend (both professional dancers) wow us. Quite a welcome to this place.

Inevitable really, Montezuma’s Revenge takes out one of the team. The driver, as it happens. Barb insists we stay, so I make like Florence Nightingale and we wait out the bugs rather than driving to Guadalajara.