Monterrey


Oct 15 2009

Loosing (Losing) Ourselves in Monterrey: Part II

Published by Sarah M. under Travel

Tourista! - photo by Sarah

Tourista! - photo by Sarah

When I returned to the 7-11, Stosh was just returning from getting the car fixed. He had met a local college student who spoke English. He was eager to help get the car fixed in return for a ride to Cascada Cola de Caballo, a local tourist destination that featuring hiking, waterfalls, and – yes – bungee jumping.

Cola de Caballo is Spanish for “Horse Tail” and describes a waterfall that sits above the forest canopy an hour outside of Monterrey. The place reads like Disneyland: families, resorts, stalls selling knick-knacks and food – all in a way that seemed utterly foreign and strange. The concept of taking a natural landscape and creating this kind of tourist attraction seemed odd to me; In America, we build roller coasters and ferris wheels for this kind of enjoyment. Nature is held in a forced state of pristine beauty, in reserves and national parks. Here, the peacocks were drinking piña coladas the size of my head, and a midget ticket-taker was sitting on a donkey.

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Oct 11 2009

Losing (Loosing) Ourselves in Monterrey: Part I

Published by Sarah M. under Travel

Monterrey Mural - photo by Sarah

Monterrey Mural - photo by Sarah

Monterrey, Mexico is a geodesic prism of youth culture that lies under the radar of foreign tourists. I arrived after three ten-hour days of driving in the desert in a van with no air conditioning. My glasses had broken at the onset of the trip when the van broke down in New Mexico. Rather, I broke my glasses in the broken van and it all seemed so fitting – Murphy’s Law or some other idea that can be referenced in situations where everything is spiraling in a direction you’d rather not see it go.

Two hours into a month-long trip through seven countries, the van broke down. Parked at the closed mechanic’s shop, I practiced yoga in the back of the van. When I got up from a shoulder stand, my glasses were absurdly looking back at me in two pieces. Like a pug whose eyes look in two different directions. Maybe I shouted, or maybe I laughed, but in either case I was frustrated, and continued to be playfully frustrated for the next three days as I wrestled my broken glasses onto my face with duct tape.

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