Last December, before flying back to Mexico after spending the holidays with my family, I booked a $250 roundtrip flight for mid-May to visit one of my best friends in Los Angeles.
He had just made the move out West and I wanted to see his setup. I also knew that I would need to leave the country before the 180 days on my tourist visa expired, so this trip was a two-stoned-birds type of situation. I recently decided I was going to buy a new guitar in Los Angeles too, so now we’re talking about three-stoned birds, high on California weed.
I woke up at 6 am on the morning of my 8:30 am flight. I was settled into one of my favorite Mexico City airport lounges with a coffee around 7:30, and it was at this exact moment that I felt my plans slipping away. You know the famous Yiddish proverb, We make plans, god laughs? When it came to my plans of visiting my mate in LA, God was doubled over with full-on, body-heaving belly laughter.
As I set up my computer I realized the status for every flight on the screen above me said “delayed.” I thought “Huh, that’s strange” as I sipped my cortado. I asked one of the employees in the lounge to check on the status of my particular flight. They reported that it appeared on time. I ate some lounge eggs, sent a few emails, and walked to my boarding gate 30 minutes before departure.
When I got to the corridor the situation I was in on this Saturday morning started to clarify itself. Every flight leaving from the 8 gates in this particular hall was delayed. Hordes of people were sprawled out all over the hard-tiled floor.
I heard someone mention a volcano.
I tried to sleep on the floor, playing footsies with a perfect stranger in the cramped space, hoping that more information would be forthcoming. I slept for 20 minutes and checked my flight status on my phone for the third time. That’s when I found a big red “canceled” label and felt my heart drop.
Volcanic Laughter
I won’t bore you with all the details, but I left the airport about 3 hours later after waiting in very long lines to speak with a Volaris representative. I was told that the next flight they could get me on to LA was a full two days later, a day before my return flight. Logically, I turned that pointless offer down. Without a new flight, I was assured that I would receive an email within 24 hours with a voucher worth 125% of the cost of this lost flight.
I have received no such email. Thanks, Volaris.
While waiting in line it became clear that a volcanic plume earlier that morning had essentially shut down the entire airport. A volcanic plume is about the best physical representation of God laughing that I can think of.
I ate airport McDonalds because I absolutely had to, then I booked a room in the city and jumped in an Uber looking forward to a much-needed afternoon nap. I was disappointed, but it’s hard to stay mad at a volcano, at science, at magma.
I spent the next 24 hours eating Asian food and sleeping. I had Ramen at Yamasan, Pho Ga at Pho King, and a fantastic combo of things at Ten Teke Ten, which might have become my favorite new Asian spot in the city, located on top of the Super Mikasa Asian market.
The first morning I woke up in Mexico City after my plans were dashed, I had a deep feeling that was stirring—Why am I still here, what am I doing here?
After asking myself that question and realizing I didn’t have a very good answer, I opened my computer to look for somewhere else to go. I had recently heard of Taxco for the first time because of a fellow traveler’s post about a quick visit.
Within 15 minutes I had booked the 3-hour bus heading south-west. I then booked a room in Taxco and got myself ready for a new adventure, without knowing much more about my destination than where it roughly was on a map.
Taxco Time
Exiting the bus, I was immediately charmed. The white matching buildings all rolling and folding in on themselves among steep narrow streets had a small-European-town vibe. I went straight to the taquilla (ticket booth) to buy a return bus and the lady there gave me a new ticket and a lunch recommendation for a Pozole place located in the photogenic main zocalo (aka town square).
Pozoleria Tia Calla was the perfect place for a post-bus steaming hot bowl of Pozole with all of the fixings. From lunch, I found my hostel and checked into a tiny private room. I could touch both walls from the center of my twin bed, but it was perfect for less than $20 a night. I settled in and decided I would attempt one “Taxco thing” that afternoon.
Taxco is shaped a bit like a bowl, and from the main square, you can see a lookout point up on the bowl’s Northern ridge with a giant Jesus standing tall with outstretched arms. It’s a smaller, but still impressive version of the famous Jesus statue in Rio de Janeiro.
I laced my running shoes and left my room. Before I could get three feet, a painter working at the hostel told me “It’s going to rain.” I looked at the clouds filling the sky and shrugged while saying “No importa,” trying to reinforce my doggedness for the task at hand.
Ten minutes later I was running up an incredibly steep street in heavy rain freezing in my shorts and thin black tank top. I oscillated between running and walking briskly for an hour in the steady rain, checking my circuitous route up the bowl on google maps every 30 seconds while trying to keep my phone dry. Eventually, one final steep section of the cobbled road led me to my first view of Cristo. I ran the last fifty meters with waterlogged shoes and a huge smile.
I strongly debated turning back at two separate sections of the run/walk, but having made it up to this view I was so glad at that moment that I’m stubborn even when nobody is watching.
There was a family of four with three umbrellas, all huddled together looking at the view. I asked them to take a few photos of me, and then I took in the view laughing to myself for ignoring the painter’s advice. I was glad I went for it. I’m glad I finished it. But I also recognized that this trip would have made most people miserable.
Most people would have turned around. Most people who have lived in Taxco for twenty years have likely never run up to the Cristo viewpoint in the rain. It was a strange choice, but the type of choice I always make when I’m in travel mode. Make memories, that’s the goal.
After returning to my room for a cathartic hot shower (something I don’t get at my house in Puerto Escondido), I wandered the cute streets looking for a cheap meal, and then I watched a very tense basketball game and saw the Lakers get eliminated from the Western Conference Finals at the buzzer.
Taxco Day 2—Rain and Bling
The next day I had to work in the morning, but luckily there was a plethora of cafe options a stone’s throw from my accommodation. I set up my computer at Bálsamo cafe with a direct view of an old convent and rolling hills off in the distance.
In the afternoon I decided to find a few of the things that my “What to do in Taxco?” google search mentioned. There was an old silver mine you could access, and a teleferico (aka cable car) that crossed a huge valley.
I found the mine with an attached silver shop, and after a quick look around, after I was told the tour would be 180 pesos (almost $10), I decided to skip it. It looked a bit neglected, and 180 just felt a bit steep, like Taxco’s streets.
I left and thought to myself probably would have paid 150 pesos. Something about it being 180 made me just feel like No, I’m not paying that much. It’s interesting how we all have a scale in our minds about the cost of any good or service, and we’re running a calculation based on different variables that are at play in determining which side of the scale wins out in any given transactional moment. When you’re very hungry, money matters less. When there’s only one fun thing to do, you’re more likely to pay whatever the ticket price is.
About ten minutes later I paid exactly 150 pesos to ride a ten-minute teleferico across a huge valley. It was awesome, and I didn’t question the cost for a moment. On the other side of the gorge, it started to rain. As I got back in line to take my return trip, it started to rain incredibly hard.
As our glass box swayed in the heavy rain, I giggled along with the three hotel workers with whom I shared the intense stormy ride. After arriving across the valley and waiting under a shelter for 10 minutes, the rain calmed and I walked home in a slight drizzle while dodging puddle spray from passing cars. Before returning to my room, I popped into a silver market and bought a ring from the first lady I spoke with.
I had gauged prices the previous day, getting 480, 520, and 720, as the answer for each of the three rings I asked about in three separate tiendas. This woman said 240 after punching numbers in a calculator, so I immediately said “Okay, perfecto.”
I was glad to not have to take the ring off. I love it and was grateful to find such a beautiful and affordable wearable memory from Taxco. I’m glad I waited for my fourth inquiry to finally buy something.
After drying off and taking a quick shower, I went to explore some nearby markets. I ate a peach. I ate some spicy peanuts. I ordered a huge mixed juice. Eventually, I found a stall called “Tacos Nava” which I recognized from a “Things to do in Taxco” search. I assumed this unassuming food stall must be rather old and famous to have such strong SEO on the internet’s mean streets.
I ordered a taco and as I chewed the first bit I noticed the sign behind the teenage taco maker said “Cabeza de vaca” or “cow head.” This was my first cow head taco, and if it wasn’t already being chewed in my mouth I don’t think I would have ordered or eaten it. It turns out, I like cow head. I ordered a second.
There’s a lesson in there somewhere.
That night I had my first beer in days, drinking a huge mango Michelada in a little cantina connected to a tienda. The beer gave me a buzz like it was the first beer of my life, and I spent the night wandering Taxco’s streets listening to music in my AirPods and smiling at strangers.
Taxco Day 3—Gruta de Cacahuamilpa
During my first full day, I noticed a few nature excursions being advertised by tour companies in Taxco. There’s one called “mil cascades,” which a friend of mine wrote me to say “I MUST DO!” That was a full-day excursion to a bunch of waterfalls interspersed with neon-blue pools. Since I already had my 5 pm bus ticket in my wallet, I knew it was off the table.
The other nature excursion that caught my eye was a visit to the Gruta de Cacachuamipla, a giant cave 45 minutes from Taxco. There was a bus station with a single service provider who left every hour for the caves, so it seemed possible to pull off on my last day.
I got on a bus at 11:50 and after a short ride, I walked the 10 minutes from the drop-off point to the gates of the National Park. I bought my ticket and was ready to join the 1 pm tour group.
I was stoked to be on a nature adventure outside of Taxco, and my expectations were fairly low. I was just hoping to make some memories and take some photos of a new place. However, when we walked down to the mouth of the cave, I quickly realized I was somewhere genuinely incredible. Somewhere that I’ll likely remember visiting for the rest of my life.
The mouth of the cave is absolutely massive, and about 100 meters into the cave the manmade cement walking path quickly disappears into the darkness. Our group of about 20 visitors descended the steps into the cave and our guide began the two-hour tour into the nether regions of mother earth.
Right away, our guide pointed out the gallo (rooster), Marge Simpson, and the lion, while shining a light on various geologic features in the cave. He also gave us a bit of scientific information like the age and depth of the cave, but I got the sense the tour was going to be a lot of That looks like this, TA-DA!
For the next two hours, the guide continued to point out structures in the cave that looked like something familiar. Each time he would say and over here we have the bruja (witch), the tour group would find what he was pointing at by following his flashlight, and then gasp like he was a magician finishing a trick. TA-DA!
[GASP]…Oh my gosh, it looks just like Nemo, or a panda, or a tequila bottle was the precious reaction from most of the guests on this tour for the entire two hours. Our tour group was almost entirely made up of domestic tourists, Mexicans wanting to wander into one of their country’s biggest caves. I was the only gringo in the group, and I was proud that my Spanish was sufficient enough to catch the guide’s jokes and magic tricks.
“The Bottle” was one of the most impressive structures in the entire cave system, and our guide told us it was the most famous room in the cave. Another few hundred meters past “La Bottela,” the tour concluded at the cave's far end and our guide told us we could walk back. It was now almost 3 pm, so my 5 pm bus was slightly starting to stress me. I tipped our guide and started to walk with some pace back towards the mouth of the cave.
Ten minutes later I was entirely alone in the largest cave I’d ever entered in my life. I might as well have been on Jupiter, in a cave in Vietnam, or lost somewhere in my own dreams. It was a calm, surreal, and magical 20-minute return walk to find sunlight pouring into the entrance of the cave.
I had the biggest smile on my face as I walked around the food stalls near the ticket booth looking for a taxi or ride back to Taxco. I found a collectivo (shared van) that was headed to Taxco, so I jumped in and happily paid my 50 pesos ($2.50).
I had to jump to a second collectivo at a random intersection, but I eventually made it back to Taxco right around 4:20 (that’s one stoned bird, alriggghhhhtttt). I jogged to my hostel to grab my bag and then headed off for the bus station. I even had time to stop for a quick red mole chicken taco on the way.
Headed Home with Gratitude
Sitting on the bus, heading back towards Mexico City with all of these memories swirling in my mind and the dank smell of the cave still stuck in my clothes, I had an ear-to-ear smile. I savored this deep sense of gratitude I had towards myself for choosing an adventure to a new place over defeat and stagnation at the hands of a Volcano.
I know my time in LA would have been a blast. It would have been dive bar hopping and guitar shopping with one of my favorite people. But, turns out that a solo trip to Taxco is a blast as well. I had an amazing five-day trip although I didn’t end up anywhere close to where I had intended to go when I first boarded my flight from Puerto Escondido to Mexico City.
Are you a victim of an unexpected airport disaster or is this your slate getting wiped clean and the universe giving you freedom? Are you a guinea pig or a pioneer? Are you being presented with a challenge or an opportunity?
Life is all about the lens we chose to look at our situation through, and I’m glad that for this long weekend away from home, I took it as a chance to explore a new part of Mexico. I’m glad I chose adventure. Taxco is now one of my very favorite Pueblo Magicos that I have ever visited, and I had never even considered going until a volcano erupted one early Saturday morning.
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