Saturday morning began with a 6 hour bus ride to Xalapa, as severe flooding in the State of Mexico from heavy rains several days earlier had basically made a lake in the middle of the highway. As we crossed into Veracruz, the hills became greener and the skies foggy. At first, I was hoping they were low-lying clouds because I was in a mystical, tropical cloud forest (!!). But, once the rain picked up, I realized it was just airborne gloom. When I stepped off the bus at the station around 3 p.m., the weather was in the high 50s with a 24-hour drizzle. I realize this doesn't sound nearly as bad as, oh, say 2 feet of snow, but I was expecting to be carried off on a Banana Boat or something. My plan for the day was just to walk around in the sunshine while soaking in some colonial charm, which is what I did, but with a raincoat and soaked tennis shoes instead. After searching around for the hostel, I finally found it, paid my 150 pesos and set down my pack. Then I rushed in a cab to reach the Xalapa Anthropology Museum before it closed. I observed Olmec monoliths and other unearthed goodies, including slanted and flattened skulls (which, I'm told, looked hot 2,000 years ago).After walking through the plazas and narrow brick streets while ungracefully holding a giant sandwich and cup of coffee, I came back to the hostel for a power nap. My dormmates were three very nice girls from Quebec all on separate travels throughout Mexico. Later, I searched around the hostel for some Lonely Planet-recommended bars, which ended up being either closed or hidden. Instead, I found a big bar-restaurant replete with plenty of red-and-white, heart-shaped balloon sculptures and a cover band. Sipping some wine and reading a novel by Gabriel Garcia Márquez, all in all I had a decent evening alone.
The next morning, I woke up early to gulp down some free hostel coffee and a jam-smothered croissant, then I hopped on a street bus to a stop where I could catch a ride to Xico, a quiet town 20 minutes away that features waterfalls and coffee farms. However, once getting to the bus stop I realized I'd left my cell phone on my bed, so I had to go back, retrieve it, and repeat all steps listed above. It was still a tad chilly, but fortunately Sunday was dry and relatively sunny.
After hopping off the bus at Xico's main cathedral and stumbling around through the streets, I hitched a ride on the back of a motorcycle from a woman who works in Xalapa as a photojournalist. She took me to the trailhead, which I happy-go-luckily wandered down for an hour, picking ripe red coffee beans off the plants and dodging the occasional car that raced past me. Then I followed some muddy trails to the tall and thunderous Texolo waterfall, and further down to the much smaller Monjas waterfall. On my way back to the park entrance, I stopped to buy some macadamia nuts from a local coffee farmer who was selling fresh grounds from a styrofoam cooler resting in a wheelbarrow. As he smashed each individual nut with his hammer against the concrete, he went on to explain how he often gave marriage advice to young people and families in the community. For women, it's most important to pick a man who doesn't drink, smoke pot or cheat. For men, it's vital to find a woman who will run the house well and also not cheat.
Once back inside Xico, I sampled a few cough syrup-size plastic cups of "torito," the local variety of wine that still leaves me questioning if there are actually any grapes in it. With a near-empty stomach and seven samples down the hatch, I felt the need to purchase a 1.5-liter bottle of berry-flavored torito (which I have still yet to open). I grabbed a bus to Coatepec, an even quieter town halfway between Xico and Xalapa, and ate a tasty cheese enchilada lunch around the courtyard at a very charming (yet utterly empty) restaurant, where I also bought some organically grown coffee to take back home. After wandering through the plaza and perusing the artisan market, I was disheartened to see the small, souvenir-size bottles of torito that I could've bought instead. I was also impressed at my resistance when faced with coffee and cocoa treats of all stretches of the imagination. Back in Xalapa, I made a loop around Los Lagos, a manmade lake where families go to rollerblade, teenagers go to make out and creepy foreigners go to stroll. By 5:30, I was on a warm and dry coach bus home to D.F.
