Puebla

It’s a 2 hour bus journey from Mexico City to Puebla, where we spend the next two days. It’s a really cute town full of colourful streets and beautiful colonial buildings. 

We spend the first day wandering around Puebla itself, checking out the local markets and the artisan shops. That afternoon I start to feel really ill. My whole body ached and I felt like I’d been hit by a bus. I also had no appetite, even though I hadn’t eaten all day. Even when Raquel bought Cheetos, I couldn’t stomach any. Those who know me well will understand just how ill I must have been to turn down crisps. 

But I don’t want to miss out on the festival, so I head back out regardless. I’ve no desire to eat dinner, but force down some sweetcorn soup. I’m annoyed that I’m in a town famous for its food and I can’t even try it!

We stop by the main square after dinner where there are lots of illuminated decorations. There’s also a really cool light show projected onto the town hall building which tells the story of the history of day of the dead. Kids (and adults) are out in force dressed up and walking the crowds asking for sweeties/money. The costumes here are next level and people go all out. There was a little girl, she couldn’t have been older than two, dressed really creepy rocking back and forth in a rocking chair. I thought it was a doll at first! It did cross my mind whether the whole thing bordered on child abuse!

The next day we hop in an Uber and drive 20 minutes to the town of Cholula which is famous for its beautiful church built on top of an ancient pyramid. We spend around 6 hours in the town, entering pretty much every shop and market there is, even though they all sell the exact same tat. We stop for lunch in the market where we try cemitas - a typical dish of the region which is basically a sandwich filled with chicken, cheese and avocado. We order one to share as they’re the size of my head and I still don’t have much of an appetite. 

That evening we head to El Mural de los Poblanos for dinner which is famous for its mole. I’m gutted as I still feel terrible and can’t stomach anything, so I sit and watch Raquel eat hers while I force down some chicken consommé! Lets hope I feel better tomorrow as it’s off to Oaxaca, the culinary capital of Mexico! 

Mexico City Part 2

​Day 3: Teotihuacan & Tacos 

Today I’d booked an airbnb experience tour to the Teotihuacan pyramids and archaeological site. I always find airbnb tours are the best ones, as they’re typically smaller groups and feel a little more authentic. 

We were picked up early morning by brothers Hugo and Gabriel who first drove us to their grandmothers house for pan dulce (sweet bread) and hot chocolate. There’s 12 of us on the tour, and I make friends with a couple of girls from Philadelphia, and my new gay best Mexican friend, Antonio.  

After breakfast, it’s off to the pyramids where we spend the next few hours. Hugo is incredibly knowledgeable and passionate which makes for a really interesting tour. I usually tend to zone out when faced with too much history, but I found the whole thing fascinating. 

After the pyramids, it’s back to granny’s house for some home made mole, beer and pulque tasting. Now you’re talking. We’re served two different mole sauces, both family secret recipes, both delicious! Another part of the family business is pulque, which is an alcoholic drink made from the fermented sap of the agave plant. It’s a pretty hard drink to describe, both in consistency and flavour! It’s a dying drink here, only really drunk by old men in pulquerias. There’s probably a good reason for that. The alcohol content is pretty low so you’d have to drink a lot of it to get drunk, but you’d probably spew first from the taste of it rather than the intoxication. 

That night I head to my third taco tour, this time in the Narvarte area, which is known as “Tacoland”.  I’ve been to a lot of big cities in my time, but I have to say the traffic here is fucking nuts! It took me 1 hour to drive 6km in an Uber. I’d have been quicker walking in hindsight! The trip cost me £7, so it’s a wonder they make any bloody money with journeys taking so long.

The guide, Nico, is waiting for me in the first stop with two other tourists, Paul and Sue from Surrey. The first British people I’ve met here so far (it’s been mainly Americans unsurprisingly). We have three taco stops and one mezcal stop on the tour. 

On the way to the first taco stop, Nico tells us that the price of tortillas is regulated by the government as they’re seen as a constitutional right, which is kinda cool but also nuts. They literally eat tortillas for breakfast, lunch and dinner here. 

We visit the infamous El Vilsito which is an auto repair shop by day and a taqueria by day and night. I might suggest this idea to my garage in Bruntsfield when I get home. There’s multiple taco stations where poor sods sweat it out carving the rotating meat. They’re famous for their tacos al pastor, and it’s definitely one of the best I’ve had so far! 

It’s a very short walk across the road to Tacos Tony, another institution in the area, this time famous for tacos suadero - beef brisket cooked in lots of fat. Dirty and delicious! 

We also check out a typical cantina, which is a restaurant/bar where lots of people congregate to drink and eat. Similar to Granada in Spain, you order drinks and you get a shit tonne of food! As you’d expect it’s a slightly higher mark up on the beer, but it’s still cheap as chips, and they only make money because produce is so cheap to buy here. 

I jump in a taxi to salsa club, Mama Rumba, to check out the local dancing talent and burn off the tacos. Unsurprisingly most dancers do Cuban style, which is just as well as the dance floor is PACKED. Unlike at home, the guys don’t really pay any attention to where they’re flinging you here, and I found myself constantly bumping into waiters with trays of drinks. Still, I had a lot of decent dances, particularly with a couple of guys who wouldn’t leave me alone no matter how much I tried to hide. After 2 hours of dancing, I head home and collapse. 

Day 4: Nacho Libre! 

My friend Raquel arrived today which I’m excited about. I love to travel alone, but it’s also nice to share the experience with someone else! We walk to the town centre, grab a taco and sit outside in the sun drinking beer. Things are gearing up for the fiestas, so the centre is rammed with locals, tourists, singers and dancers. 

We head to Plaza Garibaldi (where all the mariachi bands play) to meet our tour guide. Tonight is another Airbnb experience - nacho libre! Our guide explains the rules (or lack thereof) tothe group as we eat tacos and drink beer. We’re then handed our own masks before making our way to the venue. 

We arrive for the last three matches, and the atmosphere in the arena is amazing! I used to have to put up with my brother constantly watching WWE when we were younger and I hated it because it was so ridiculously stupid. But I had one of the best nights in a long time, I fucking loved every minute of it! 

Tonight was my last in Mexico City, and I feel ready to move on to smaller, less stressful towns. Next stop, Puebla! 

Mexico City Part 1

​México City Day 1: Taco’d off ma tits!

After a pretty shocking nights sleep, I start the day with a coffee on my balcony. It’s a pretty wet and miserable day, so it’s not the end of the world that I don’t have my suitcase full of summer clothes!

I’d booked a street food tour in the city centre at 1130 so I kill some time by visiting the Palacio de Bellas Artes and the cathedral. I light a candle and pray for the speedy return of my suitcase (as well as for the health and happiness of my family and friends, obvs). 

At 1130 I’m met by my food tour guide, Ricardo. I’m the only one booked on the tour today, which is always a good thing and a bad thing. Good in that it’s a private tour for cheap, bad in that part of the experience is to meet other travellers. But Ricardo and I hit it off, and what is supposed to be a 2-3 hour tour takes us 4. 

What I liked about this tour is that it took me to stalls I’d never have gone to by myself. Apparently street food stalls here are like Russian roulette. It’s always a gamble whether you end up shitting your pants. Luckily for me, someone’s done the road testing! 

Our first stop has us weaving through a busy market to a stall serving quesadillas. Ricardo orders me a blue corn quesadilla with chicharrón y queso (fried pork and cheese). It’s my first taste of Mexican food and it’s every bit as delicious as expected. Next up it’s another road side stall serving tacos de birria (slow cooked lamb) which is served with a consommé which you typically dip the taco into. Messy business. I’m kicking myself for buying a white tshirt at the airport. 

Third stop is Taqueria Los Paisas, which is a stall very popular with the locals. Here the speciality is tacos campechano, which is a mix of different meats. They have a self serve topping station which includes, rather bizarrely, mashed potato. 

I’m getting pretty full at this point, but we’re only half way through! The fourth stop is tamales. I have to be honest, it’s not a dish I’ve ever really loved. I find it stodgy and bland. But I’m British and therefore too polite for my own good, so I eat it and make all the right noises.

We make a quick, and unnecessary, stop for some chicharrón (pork scratchings) before continuing onto our final stop which is in the Mercado San Juan. We order a plate of ceviche and some beers, but I’m so full that I can only manage a couple of mouthfuls. At this point it’s 15:30, and I have a taco tour starting at 19:00. No way in hell I’m going to be ready to eat again that soon! 

In an attempt to digest my food and work up another appetite, I take a walk around the historic centre. It’s chaotic and stressful, pretty much as you’d expect any city centre of a Latin American capital city! 

I feel physically sick at the prospect of eating more food. But I’m a fucking trooper, so off I trot to my next tour. I’m joined by a group of 6 Dutch men, who turn out to be a great laugh and we have a cracking night. I won’t bore you with the details of all the stops, there’s only so many ways you can describe a taco (check out my food insta if you’re interested). But they were delicious! I did find the tour a little rushed. We left beers half full in every taqueria because we were ushered from joint to joint. We ended the night with a mezcal tasting and a mezcal cocktail. The night was supposed to end with another taco joint, but we all mutually decide to bail cause we felt like we may actually die. It was even too much food for 6”5 Dutch men!

The evening ends perfectly with a call from BA Mexico to say my case is in a taxi on its way to my apartment. I rush home and sit eagerly watching for its arrival on my balcony. I cannot tell you how relieved I am knowing that I don’t have to do another 3 week holiday where I’m washing my pants in the sink every few days.

Mexico City Day 2: Coyocan, San Angel, Condesa

After another shitty 5 hours sleep, I brave the metro and head south to the Coyoacan area. They actually have parts of the platform and trains exclusively for women. It’s sad that it’s even necessary, but it’s nice not to have the inappropriate stares and comments. Especially now that I’m world famous after appearing in the Daily Record. 

I instantly like the Coyoacan neighbourhood. It’s the oldest colonial area of Mexico City, so it’s full of pretty buildings, and a much slower and less stressful pace of life! I head to Madre Cocina Mexicana in the Mercado de Coyoacan. It’s a popular food stall serving traditional Mexican breakfasts, including Chilaquiles, which are basically little fried corn tortillas stuffed with your choice of meat (I went for cochinita) and a choice of salsas. It’s a heavy dish for breakfast, but I don’t plan on eating again until dinner! I learnt my lesson yesterday. The meal, which I had with a cinnamon spiced coffee, cost me £4.

Like everywhere else in the city, the neighbourhood is gearing up for Día de los Muertos, so there’s decorations everywhere which gets me really excited for the upcoming festivities! I check out the local church where I thank the good lord for delivering my suitcase as asked. I light another candle and ask him to deliver me a man. Worth a shot. 

I grab a stuffed churro (I choose dulce de leche) for my 30 minute walk to the next neighbourhood, San Angel. Another cute area with cobbled streets and colourful buildings. My feet are throbbing at this point so I stop at a courtyard restaurant/bar where I order my first (but certainly not my last) margarita of the holiday. 

I jump in an Uber and head to the La Condesa/Roma area. Its a popular area for tourists to stay, so it’s very bohemian and hipster. Reminds me a lots of Medellín in Colombia with lots of greenery and boujee cafes and restaurants on every corner. It has a nice feel to it. I’m exhausted at this point to head back to my apartment for a couple of hours to rest. 

For dinner I’d booked a restaurant called Meroma. As much as I love tacos, you can have too much of a good thing, so I thought I’d have a little break and a proper sit down meal. I’m sat beside a large group of American douchebags who talk incessantly about working out and protein targets. I order a mezcal mule and the lamb and aubergine dish which is tasty, but don’t think it warranted the £40 bill at the end. 

After dinner I check out Limantour cocktail bar, which has just been voted in the worlds top 50 bars of the world for 2023. Because of this, there’s a celebration and all cocktails are free (and unlimited). Finally, my luck is turning! I ordered the margarita al pastor, which is quite possibly one of the best I’ve had anywhere. The bar itself is a little wanky though, so I only have the two before heading home to sleep as I’m up at 6am for a tour tomorrow. 

British Airways Balls-up!

​Disclaimer: I make no apology for the sheer amount of profanities in this post! 

Well what a fabulous fucking start to the holiday. Red Rhiannon came out earlier than expected after an immense fuck up by the most incompetent airline on the planet. Yes, I’m talking about you fuckwits,  British Airways. 

I arrive promptly for my 10am flight from Edinburgh to Heathrow and head to the the bag drop. I hand the lady my passport and she asks where I’m flying to. HEATHROW I say. She tags my bag, it goes on the belt, and off I go on my merry way for my first of many alcoholic beverages. As I’m boarding my flight, I whip out my passport, only to spot the luggage tag stuck to the back page reads “London City Airport 08:50”. No no no no no. That’s not right. I question the lady at the gate who checks the system, confirms my case isn’t on the plane but that it has landed safely in London City. She shrugs her shoulders and says there’s nothing she can do for me. A number of expletives leave my mouth at this point, but at the risk of being denied entry, I quickly board the plane where I tell anyone who’ll listen how fucking useless BA are. The cabin crew are baffled and have never heard the like. 

On landing I receive a call from London City who tell me they have my bag. Great, so you’ve got 4 hours to get it to Heathrow in a taxi then yeah? Errr no, we’ll do our best to get it on the next flight out though…

I head straight for the BA lost baggage desk and explain my situation. Again, they’re perplexed at how this even happened. It transpires that the checkin agent in Edinburgh only looked at my surname, saw there was a Steve Davies flying to London city, and checked me in as him! Ah yes good morning, I’m Steve Davies, yes the famous snooker player, yes that’s right travelling to city airport for a major tournament in London. Come on to fuck lady! Wake up! That’s security at its best right there folks! 

The lady at the lost baggage desk tells me they’ll do their best to get my bag to Mexico but there’s no guarantees it’ll be on the next flight out. She hands me my tracking number and starts to explain the system. “I’ll stop you right there, Sandra. I’m only too familiar with your bloody tracking system, I checked it every day for 3 weeks solid when you lost my suitcase on a flight to Argentina this time last year. And fyi, I never saw that suitcase again in my life, so you’ll excuse me for not believing a word that comes out your mouth.”

Fuming, I head through security, buy some essential toiletries and a £40 basic tshirt from Reiss (there are other high end luxury brands available at Heathrow) and head to the airport lounge I’d booked. A lounge I can enjoy for only 30 minutes at this point given time wasted. Challenge fucking accepted! 

While waiting to board my flight, which is 2 hours delayed (course it is, why wouldn’t it be?) I email some local newspapers in Edinburgh. For two reasons mainly. 1. I want everyone to know how incompetent BA are and 2. The papers have a better chance of a response out of BA than I do! Both papers call me within minutes of my email asking for the full story. Am I slightly mortified that my face is all over Edinburgh Live next to a woman who is appalled she was charged £15 for pumpkins? Yes. Do I give a fuck! No. 

Anyway. At least I’ve got one clean pair of pants for my first day in Mexico. Let’s hope the food doesn’t upset my stomach, cause then we’ve got a real situation on our hands! Fingers crossed my case arrives tonight!