Churches, Libraries and Mamey -- Puebla, Mexico

Yesterday was meant to be a slow day, but I'm not sure whether or not slow days in chaotic cities are possible.

I posted my blog and went upstairs to take a shower.

"What do you miss the most about Germany?" I'd asked Jonas the day before.

"I miss knowing that when I go to take a shower, there will always be hot water."

"That's not the way it is here?"

"No. Not at all."

"Like the elevators in Skopje. They sometimes work. Always a surprise."

My shower yesterday morning was not a German shower. I stood to the side of the spray and reluctantly splashed handfuls of water at myself until I felt slightly less stinky.

Mmmm.... Mexican shower, numero uno. 

We left the apartment at about 10:30.

So that was slow.

Then we had Mexican breakfast.

"You eat one of these and you're finished for the rest of the day," Jonas commented as the plates came out.

Chilaquiles con Huevo Estrellado

"It's so simple," I stared at my plate, mesmerized by the colors and smells. "But so flavorful and good. If we tried to make this dish in America, we would fail. 'Cos our individual ingredients probably aren't nearly as tasty."

Huevos con Salchicha 

Consuming that gigantic plate of tortilla chips drowned in salsa and covered with cheese and avocados took ages.

So that was slow.

Prices are in pesos. So the bill was less than five euros. 

Jonas was right.

I was not hungry for the rest of the day.

It might even be accurate to say that I was stuffed for the rest of the day.

Our first, bloated adventure involved tracking down a universal charger that actually works.

As the one we'd purchased the day before was quite successful in draining the remaining energy from my battery, but seemed to struggle in the actual "charging" business.

"Shit," I sat dolefully on the floor, cradling my dead fujifilm and cursing the confused charger. "It's not working."

"Oh no..."

Maybe it's just a Mexican charger that sometimes works... I thought as I hopefully plugged it into the wall again.

*sigh*

Nothing. 

"We can go to an expensive shopping mall with a Nikon shop. If they don't have a charger that's compatible with your camera, they'll know of a place where you can get one."

"Jonas. Thanks for being so understanding and helpful."

"Of course."

We did manage to purchase a charger at Puebla's expensive mall. I hugged Jonas and exclaimed, "This is great! It just means I get to be this excited and relieved twice." 

Upon exiting the mall, I noticed a policeman carrying an excessively large weapon.

"Do the police carry guns like that in the states?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I haven't seen guns that huge since Istanbul."

"It just worries me. Like, what do they expect is going to happen?"

"Yeah. Worries me too."

We boarded a bus for the city center, but either found ourselves on the wrong bus or the bus found itself on the wrong road. I believe I'm finally in a country where both options are equally plausible.

"I think we're lost," Jonas said as he glanced at google maps on his phone.

"Wonderful," I said sans sarcasm.

"Let's get out here."

"Perfect."

We found ourselves at a market. So we wandered. As one ought to do when one randomly finds oneself in a market.

(All the following photos are by Jonas. My camera wasn't charged and I don't like using my video camera for photography, so my German friend let me use his photos for this post)

"You want a drink?" Jonas asked as we prepared to enter the market. "I'm always thirsty," he added and slowed to a stop in front of an ice cream and soda shop.

"Sure... can I just have a bottle of water?"

"They don't do just water. Hardly anyone does just water in Mexico. It's always water flavored with fruit."

Mexico is a country of Aguas Frescas -- Spanish for "fresh waters". Aguas Frescas combine water, sugar, fruit, flowers and nuts to make cool, refreshing beverages that probably help locals tolerate some extreme summer heat.

"Okay, can I have the horchata?"

I'd tried tigernut horchata in Barcelona with Eduard and had absolutely loved it. But similar to burek in the Balkans, each Spanish country (+ Egypt) has its own variety of this creamy, milky drink.

It can be made with rice, tigernuts, almonds and sesame seeds. Venezuelans even add fermented corn flour to make it alcoholic.

Alas, Mexican horchata is so sweet I can hardly tell whether or not it's made from tigernuts or sesame seeds.

"That's the way it is with sweets in Mexico. They are either spicy or pure sugar," Jonas had told me the day before as we strolled down the Sweet Street.

It's just such an intense place. Intense smells, colors, sounds, tastes...

Carrying our sodas and aguas frescas, we explored one of Puebla's many markets.

I appreciated the ample backsides of Mexican mannequins.

"Mannequins here have proper butts. I don't think mannequins in the US are allowed to have butts like that."

Then Jonas went to browse some pirated DVDs. Along with the local police.

A good third of the films appear to be animated.

We stopped at La Pasita for a quick drink and look around.

La Pasita is the oldest cantina in Puebla and offers over twenty locally made liqueurs, ranging from beginner to professional (based on the alcohol content), "little nun" to "witches' blood". Regulars also have a unique method of ordering drinks, which I find more than a little amusing.

"Two and a half blocks."

"Five blocks."

This method of ordering is based off of how far they anticipate walking after their drinks.

Jonas and I each drank a pasita, a shot of raisin liqueur with a garnish of salty cheese and a raisin.

All of you ought to google "La Pasita, Puebla". You will see seven thousand photos of this old man. Usually pouring this drink.

One of the other patrons (a dancer from Mexico City) started speaking English with us. The old man behind the counter teased her in Spanish, "One shot and you are speaking English!"

"Yes, and four shots and you will speak Russian," Jonas chimed in.

We left the Mexican dancer and the old man pouring pasitas and continued on to the Bibliotecha Palafoxiana.

The oldest library in the Americas.

It started with 5000 books donated by Bishop Mendoza in 1646.

Now the library contains over 40,000 books, covering the topics of religion, science, philosophy, medicine and history.

500 year-old books? Yes please. 

This is Hugo. He works at the library and ended up giving Jonas and me a private tour. 

Jonas wants to purchase dress shoes just so he can get them shined. 

The sunshine in Puebla is amazing. I just still can't believe it's December. 

We went into so many churches. I can't possibly remember all the names or the myths or the saints surrounding them, but I can tell you that I'll never forget a) how incredibly ornate the buildings are and b) how many gruesome Jesuses I saw.

Seriously. Bones exposed, eyes rolling back in head, blood all over the place.

I feel like if Jesus actually did exist, he'd probably want people to celebrate his life. Not dwell on the gory details of his death. 

We ended the day early. Both of us were feeling a bit sore from all the walking and in dire need of wine and cheese.

While Mexico can supply an endless amount of tacos and salsas and fried grasshoppers, wine and cheese are in rather short supply. So we went to a nearby Wal-Mart (which felt so weird) to purchase our dinner.

But because I can't eat bread, Jonas suggested tortillas and beans to serve with our cheese.

"This is us trying to be Mediterranean whilst in Mexico," I laughed as our arms filled with Mexican food.

"We should get a piece of fruit," Jonas headed towards the mangos and a strange, brown fruit that smelled like heaven.

"Do you know what that is?" I asked.

"No."

"Do you want to try it?"

"Sure!"

"I love buying things and having no idea what they are."

It was a mamey.

For those of you who ever want to try a mamey, make sure you get a ripe one.

The unripe mamey fruit we picked up from Wal-Mart tasted like bitter, sandpapery papaya.

We tried to improve upon mamey with milk (turning it into a milkshake), but found the flavor and texture had actually gone downhill. Considerably.

"I'm just going to put everything I have into this to see if I can make it better," Jonas said as he emptied his cupboards.

Cacao and sugar and vanilla improved the mamey slightly. But not significantly.

A blender full of mamey went down the drain.

"Oh well," I said as we ate our wine and cheese and tortillas. "It was an adventure. But salut to eating out!"

We clinked glasses.

"To eating out."