I am a beach person. My body simply runs better with a healthy dose of sun, salt water, and exercise. As a result, I naturally don’t stray far from the ocean for too long. But, that said, sometimes a break is nice.
I think there comes a painful, yet liberating point of maturity in a surfer’s life where you recognize that surfing is not the most important thing in the world. I think I’ve reached that point. I can confidently distance myself from the ocean for short spurts to pursue other interests. In fact, it’s actually kind of relaxing to take a ‘vacation’ away from the ocean and surfing. I don’t have to worry about checking updated surf forecasts and I can plan my schedule without the anxiety of missing good waves. (Life could be more difficult, I know.)
I spent the last two weeks in the landlocked city of Guadalajara. I packed up my surfboards, hopped on a bus from the beaches of Melaque, and headed up into the highlands to the traffic-choked Mexican metropolis.
The sprawling city sits a tad over 5,000 feet high on a flat plain surrounded by rolling mountains and chiseled gorges. It’s the capital of the state of Jalisco, a stone’s throw from the town of Tequila where the world-famous spirit was invented. It’s an important center of Mexican culture and business and one of the most popular Mexican hot sauces in the U.S. is the namesake of its inhabitants (the people of Guadalajara call themselves Tapatíos). And whether you know it or not, you probably have heard the well-known, catchy Mexican Mariachi song named after city that claims it has the “alma más mexicana” — the most Mexican soul.
I’ve made a conscious effort throughout these two-plus years of travel to be open to new experiences, along the lines of the ‘Yes Theory’ YouTubers who travel the world and preach saying “yes” to new things to leave your comfort zone. So when I was invited to a wedding in Guadalajara, I thought, well, I don’t have any good reasons to not go. So I said yes. I used the one-day wedding as an excuse to stay for two weeks.
Guadalajara was quite the contrast to the town of Melaque where I had been staying for six weeks. Melaque is a village with dusty roads, two ATMs, no Ubers, no supermarket, and no movie theater. Credit cards are practically unusable as most of society runs on cash. And everyone seems to know everyone. In Guadalajara on the other hand, like in most big cities in the world, you can find all the amenities and people from all walks of life. There are universities, golf courses, a zoo, giant cathedrals, a metro system, and, thank god, Ubers (I hate negotiating rip off taxi rates). The dry, thin air cools to refreshingly cool temperatures at night, as opposed to the constant humidity of the coast. The Spanish spoken by Tapatíos is markedly more formal and educated, at least when compared to the village Spanish I’d been surrounded by in Melaque. And, as with any big city in the world, you can find every subculture on display — the skaters, punkers, businessmen, hipsters, beggars, students, musicians, anime lovers, cholos, nerds, etc.
On a recommendation from a friend, I stayed in the hip neighborhood of Colonia Americana in the center of the city. The area has an overwhelming amount of irresistably hip coffee shops and trendy bars. The restaurants fill to the brim each evening with Guadalajara’s socialites. And if you are looking for a table for Sunday brunch, good luck. Funny enough, I noticed that the area is void of supermarkets — a slight inconvenience during my stay. It seems the property owners have figured out it’s more profitable to sell highly marked up almond milk lattes and beer than vegetables and tortillas.
While I was working quite a bit, I packed a lot into my two weeks in Guadalajara. I tried working at several coffee shops, but ultimately got into the groove of going to two. I became a regular at the corner store down the street to buy beans and tortillas. I rented a suit for the wedding and discovered that suit rentals in Mexico don’t come with shoes. As a result, I also went shoe shopping. I became quite fond of the man who rented me the suit after hearing stories about his siblings who all live in the U.S., and then decided to donate said shoes to the man. I wore the suit to a Mexican wedding, put gel in my hair for the first time in years, got (rather easily) peer pressured into taking tequilas shots at the party, and surprised some with my hidden talents of knowing the lyrics to many reggaeton songs (the result of a year spent studying in Latin America). I also watched the new Bob Marley flick dubbed in Spanish.
I thoroughly enjoyed my two weeks of city life. It relit the fire to get back to the beach ASAP. And the city itself was a pleasure to stay in. Most gringos looking to experience Mexican city life are naturally drawn to the capital, Mexico City. It overshadows its cosmopolitan counterpart to the west. But I kind of like that. The tourism is toned down a notch in Guadalajara and you feel slightly less like ‘just another gringo tourist,’ whatever that means. Now I find myself back on the coast. The ocean hiatus is over. And damn is the salt water and sun invigorating.
Evan Quarnstrom 