Its a bird, its a plane its a ... narco?

During my time I have spent many many days, weeks, months possibly even on the road and travelling from place to place. And while the majority of those have been more or less uneventful, mundane and painful, there have been a few interesting ones. And as one may imagine, many of those exciting and story worthy events are taken by hitch hiking. But there is now possibly a new "most interesting" to add to my list. So this story starts in Maruata, a beautiful hippie beach on the coast of Michoacan (a state in Mexico). Of course in true luck my bowels decided to be a pendejo and give me grief, so I headed back early for Puebla to a (relatively) clean toilet with a seat!

So I was sitting on the side of the road waiting for a bus to pass to take me to the next big city where I could catch and overnight bus back to Puebla. Now let me note here that prior to heading to the roadside to wait for the bus (like several hours I'm talking about) I decided to share a magically delicious brownie with my tent neighbour. So after an incredible journey I was still feeling somewhat funny as I sat at the bus stop. With my judgement impaired and my patience growing more and more thin as I waited for the bus, when a pickup truck pulled up my brain wasn't really working so well. "You want lift?" Asked the man in broken English. "Lazaro Cardenas." 'Now wait just a second there mister,' I was thinking. 'Pickup trucks are faster than buses and its here right now.' Forget all the warnings my Mexican friends had given me about narcos, Michoacan, pick up trucks, dodgy looking people etc, I threw my backpack in the back and jumped in.

Miguel was our friendly driver and Jose the other passenger/hitch hiker in the truck. At first they seemed lovely, chatty, interesting, having a joke and not at one moment sleazy or weird. I will admit though I was slightly weirded out at first by the opened 6 pack of beer that Miguel was knocking back as he drove along. As well, I noticed that Miguel's pick up truck was 1 in a convoy of about 3 or 4. Another warning given to me by my Mexican friends was that convoys of pick up trucks are almost ALWAYS narcos. So I asked him, "why the convoy?" He reassured me that it was just his cousins and that they all liked to travel together. I decided to leave it at that, there are some things I just did not care to know. And of course I was a complete state cadet at that point, just staring out the windows at the twisting, winding, curving hills and obligingly laughing at Miguel's jokes.

Of course on more than one occasion on the 3.5 hour drive I asked myself was this SUCH a good idea. After all I was travelling with 2 strange men, stoned out of my mind, a drunk driver, in a convoy, in a pick up truck and in one of Mexicos most dangerous states. But the WHAT THE FUCK moment came later... Well, it came a few times. On a few occasions Miguel pulled over the truck to 'talk to his friends' in the small villages that we passed which I observed to mean

• Flash some money around and redistribute it around the other men there
• Buy some more beer
• Offer to buy me dinner
• Insist that I eat something because I looked too skinny (HA!!! But thanks anyway)
• Talk to his friends

It was always a little freaky though because all of these men had moustaches, pick up trucks and lots of money which had me seriously wondering whether or not they were in fact narcos. The freakiest part of course came when we were in the middle of the forest with nothing around except for a big gate that looked like it led into the rainforest. Warning number #764638 from my Mexican friends... NEVER ever go into something that looks like a farm or a ranch because they will probably kill you. So when we pulled over here I was almost ready to run when Miguel told me "just need to take a leak, brb." Whether it was me being paranoid or whether it appeared to be an objectively dodgy situation I will never be completely sure.

 So at the end of the day maybe they were narcos or maybe they weren't. But I ended up safely where I needed to be (at the bus terminal) and without being kidnapped, raped nor hit on. We chatted, joked and had a great trip (those moments that I wasn't crippled by paranoia) and he even fattened me up with candy and softdrink. And although I was willing to pay him for the lift and for all the food, he asked me out of the blue, "which hand do you write with?" I said "err... my right." "Show me," he asked and I waved my hand at him. In an instant he shoved a $100 peso note and closed my hand, insisting that I keep the money and look after myself.

• So although it could have been a terrible horrible situation and a headline reading "Stoned Australian Hitch Hiker Killed in Mexico by Narcos," everything turned out for the best. Would I do it again? I seriously doubt it... but it was an adventure and I DID save myself a bit of coin (and time!).

Karma is a Bitch

 I have always HATED scalpers. With a passion. I believe that those who exploit the desperation of music lovers (not so much the fluoro singlet wearing douchey festival poser types) have a special circle of hell reserved for them. And apparently so does a man named Karma.

And so the story begins. It was a hot (and I mean STINKING hot) spring afternoon in Mexico City. The air was full of excitement but at the same time, the stink of desperation. It was the second day of Vive Latino, and floods of people were piling into the festival area, to see lots of great bands? Probably. To enjoy the atmosphere of the festival? Maybe. To pay $70 for a beer. Beats me? Or the more likely... to see Los Caifanes play their first show in 15? 20? 13 years. Now let me explain, Los Caifanes are a BIG DEAL! They are the spanish speaking equivalent of the Rolling Stones. Classic rock which is adored by all generations. So there we were. Hanging around outside like a bad smell because a particular person was late/uncontactable/a douche and waiting in the hot sun. Thousands of people were pouring in, the mere sight of which scared the living be-jesus out of us. "THEY'LL TRAMPLE US!!" I was imagining a headline on MSN Today: 2 Australian girls trampled to death in Mexican Rock Festival. So as we stood there hanging around like a bad smell, we met some fabulous Mexicans named Karla and Moctezuma.

And until that moment we had not even considered it. Sell our tickets and NOT go inside the festival? You must be mad! But then we began thinking about it. And we realised that 1) We didn't even know who the Caifanes were. 2) We were waiting for a particular person (!!!) 3) Being trampled and squished by a million Caifanes fans didn't seem like that much fun and 4) The vibe of the festival just didn't seem all that cool, people just seemed pushy and desperate. So we decided. SELL THE TICKETS! All 3 of them. After all there are funner things to do in Mexico City. And may I just mention that there were a LOT of people who were desperate for tickets. Sold Out tickets I may add. And grade 11 economics taught me one thing... that when supply is low and demand is high, prices = ... Well as you can just imagine we had dollar signs in our eyes. So in a mental pact we set a price, Lilly (the least enterprising of the 2 of us) agreed to shut her mouth and not settle for a lower price and within not long at all we were 3 tickets poorer and several pesos richer! (and i mean SEVERAL!). Only on the way out, with our pockets lined with cash did we notice the ticket office had JUST reopened and that tickets were being sold for the original price (MUCH lower than what we sold them for) and we licked our lips in glee.

And of course the next question was: What do we do now? Festival is not happening (we considered repurchasing tickets for the lower price and go in but we were already pretty much decided that we weren't going). So we wandered out into the street following our noses towards the tacos (that were so spicy they nearly killed me) and to our luck behind the taco stand was a van pumping out music, a little stall selling (cheap!) litres of beer and a party happening in the street. So we did what any self respecting person would do and took part in the party. Dancing and chatting to some wonderful Mexicans until we could not dance anymore. It was a fun night and we definately did not regret missing the festival. After all Los Caifanes blaring out from a van is just as good as seeing them perform live right? So we went back to Ulis house. Exhausted and happy and slightly drunk. Of course it wasn't until the next day that I realised what I had done.

 So I woke up and had a wonderful breakfast and was still feeling pretty pleased with myself in the knowledge that I was one rich lady! So we got ready, and jumped in the car and headed towards day 3 of the festival (or day 2 really for us). In the car, I was feeling particularly greedy and wanted to feel the $200 peso bills in my hand, to sniff them and bask in the glory. So I went into my bag to find the envelope that had my money in it. It wasn't there. I went into my backpack. It wasn't there. I called Uli to ask if I had left it at his house. I hadn't. So there it was. Somebody had stolen my money. Right from out of my bag. Stuck their hand in and pulled it out. It didn't take long to realise who it was. Not the creepy looking guy at the party. Not the weirdo on the metro (well I mean probably...) but no, it was the hand of Karma. Dipping his hand in and taking back the dirty money I had dishonestly obtained.

So that weekend I learned some valuable life lessons:

• Karma WILL come after you
• Scalping is bad. Just because someone is stupid/desperate enough to pay a HUGE price for tickets doesn't mean they deserve to be ripped off
• If you DO decide to be dishonest, it is always dirty money which is best disposed of just as quickly as it was obtained. Do not tightfist dirty money. That's how people get hit by cars and slip on banana peels.
• Sometimes clowns have girlfriends... a bit creepy yes, but payasos are people too!
• Some boys just don't give up! Even when you burp in their faces, ignore them and piss in public
• Mexico City is FUCKING AWESOME!
• I love street parties and music festivals

Why am I sick?

So despite starting the semester feeling a bit dodgy after a big Central American holiday and spending $400 pesos on some freaking medicine to fix me (the meds DID work but I remain suspicious of Mexican Doctors and their over enthusiastic prescribing methods) I have remained relatively... well VERY healthy for a good 3 months. Despite a lifestyle that would make my mother cringe, a country where there are a myriad of different types of germs to enjoy and the fact that I am accustomed to very clean Australian conditions I have been quite lucky... especially when a week worth of bum shots and exotic infections are not uncommon amongst us exchange students.

But last week disaster struck. Sitting in class I heard a loud growl. Actually I'm pretty sure that everyone heard my growl. And it persisted. And it just would not stop! After about 5 minutes of growling I realised that it was my STOMACH that was involuntarily making that growling sound and then came the downward pressure on my intestines. It was a make or break situation. And it didn't stop there! For almost a week the growling, the discomfort, the strange coloured and shaped poos and the general feeling of sickness dominated my life.

BUT I HAVE A STOMACH OF STEEL!! I cried. Let it stop! I beg I implore!! Why was this happening to me after 3 months in Mexico and almost 4 and a half of travelling? I hadn't been doing any thing differently... and lets face it... shouldn't my body be used to the baddies by now and be a lean (HA!) mean bacteria fighting machine? Well, lets face it... my body obviously decided to tell me now "fuck you Gabby! This is for the 4 months (3 years?) of abuse!" I have run over and over in my head what the reason could be... and I still ponder if there's something I'm missing.

THE CULPRITS

Greasy, oily, delicious Mexican food

 So don't get me wrong, the food here is delicious! Incredible even! But there is something lacking... or should I say there is an excess of one particular food group. A mexican food pyramid would probably include at the bottom: corn, grease, fat, chicharron (which is really just a nice way of saying pig fat), tortillas, carbohydrates, more grease, greasy meat, salsa, chilli and cheese. As for those Vitamins and minerals, the fruit and veg that have nutritionists and health addicts frothing at the mouth, well they probably belong at the very top just after tequila and cerveza. In fact, I think the only vegetables I can boast in my diet are those that are chopped up into my salsa and smeared all over my greasy hamburger that I get every day for lunch... or those pieces of pineapple that they occasionally chuck into my tacos. Mmmm... tacos! Now I'm hungry again! Maybe after 10kg or so and about a million grams of liquidified fat my body has decided that grease is bad and that it wants to punish me.

Bacteria

Another food and water related culprit could also be those pesky bacteria that lurk in... well almost everything. As far as I am concerned, there are 2 types of bacteria: the type which will kill anything in its path, like E-coli or Salmonella. No matter how accustomed any Mexican is to the local food and lots of grease, a dangerous food poisoning bug can beat anyone to a pulp. Luckily this type is relatively rare and not likely to have happened (I think my stomach would be screaming rather than growling if this were the case). The second type is that which affects foreigners and gringos who are not used to the local fare. Obviously pretty much all Mexicans are and generally those who have spent enough time in a place to become accustomed to the crap are fine. And after being in South America and Central America for a combined total of over a year without any incident I was beginning to think "what ever could Mexico throw at me to upset my iron stomach?" Well obviously it came up with something. Gracias.

Alcohol

So as pretty much any exchange student can attest, the exchange experience usually always involves partying like a rockstar, no matter where. And of course being one to always seize the day I have rarely said no to a sneaky cerveza or the rum and coke being thrust upon me. Of course I would hardly say that I am a party animal by any means. My Australian upbringing ensures that I am a complete and total alcoholic whose eyes are bigger than my liver almost always, but being a lazy bum I tend to drink hard for one night followed by a LOT of sleep. But of course all the late nights and tequila shots can't be good for me, and there comes a time in ones life when the old liver and kidneys scheme plot and conspire with the rest of the body to shut down for a while and give the old alcohol a bit of a rest. Although I would hardly say that I have been drinking more than usual. So it could just be mala suerte or something else. Or maybe its time for a complete booze detox... Only Joking! What a load of crap!

Stress of Uni

 Its a hard life being an exchange student, constantly worrying about money, passing (so that I don't have to pay back my $7000 in scholarships) and writing essays in Spanish. Oh yes the writing essays in Spanish part is a fucker! Especially for people like me who just CANNOT get their propositions correct (nor a million other grammatical intricacies) to save my life. Add on top of that the fact that this grasshopper has sung all semester. So while for 3 months I mocked those who never did anything fun because of tarea and ensayos, that at the time seemed like a mere myth, I am now wishing I had never been born now that I have at least 3 assessment items a week for the duration of the semester. Many of which are not simple dick around assignments. 

LOL!!! Stress! What a joke! I may have a crap load of assignments but in reality I have no job, I have 10 hours of classes a week (assuming that I rock up to all of them) and I only have to pass! Which here (and especially for exchange students) is almost idiot proof (I say idiot proof because I haven't passed yet!).

So why was I sick for a week? Well who really cares. I'm better now! So that is all that matters. Back to the booze, the greasy food, the food of questionable hygiene purchased from street merchants who have probably been having a bat all over the food (sour cream ehhhh) and continuing to do my assignments to a crap quality at the 11th hour because...

And that is all...