Guadalajara: 72 km

Guadalajara. Never actually heard of it, still a substantial place, the countries second biggest city only after the capital. Marijn and I have been in somewhat bigger cities, but mostly on the coast and often quite touristic. We’re not sure what to expect of this landlocked-not-a-beach-town place that isn’t a small village like the ones we’ve been passing the last week. Through a mutual friend back home (shoutout to Gijs) we’ve got a place to sleep. The ride from Tequila is short but depleting. The heavy traffic is intense and incredibly loud. Somewhat tired, possibly also from yesterday’s tequila, we arrive at the Taller People; Paula, Peñu, Denise and Juan. They are a group of friends who share a studio (Spanish: Taller) together, where Marijn and I will sleep for the week to come. It is immediately clear that they have a good thing going together. Their vibe is relaxed, open and friendly. And although we sleep between the computers and the shower is always cold, Marijn and I feel at home with them. We piggyback with them to bars and parties. Maybe the best moment is when Peñu calls us to tell us he needs help carrying a pot and a plant around. The mundane stuff you help each other with makes you friends.

Lately, I’ve been falling for Mexico. It hasn’t ever been high on my list of countries to visit. Even crossing into the country, I did so with mixed feelings. Definitely curious, excited for something new after The States, but also somewhat defensive and wary. It makes it harder to completely open up and immerse yourself. All the pop culture about the cartels did not help, the stories on the free camping apps neither. Now, as I’m getting to know the people better, and understand the culture some more, I’m slowly but surely falling deeply for this country. And Guadalajara pushes me over the edge. It has everything, from busy six lane roads, to quiet squares and parks, the colonial churches stand tall over mostly low-rise buildings in downtown. Some parts of the city are alive with terraces, mariachi bands and street vendors, other parts are quiet and residential. For a concrete jungle that hosts nearly 2 million people, the city is very green. Ash trees and the local Ahuehuete grow on nearly every street, often creating archways like tunnels. Plants that we carefully cultivate inside our houses back home, here grow out of gardens like weeds. Then there’s Colonia Americana; the very cool, very hip place to be. The bars, galleries and restaurants are countless, carefully curated and above all inviting. Guadalajara isn’t a city of immense beauty like Rome or Paris, although it does have its pretty buildings. But it feels creative, it feels like fun! It grabs me. Although it’s nothing like home, I feel at home here. At ease. I can’t really put my finger on it, but it just feels good. Even more than the city, it has to do with the group of friends were adopted into than the city itself.

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So, I like it here. I like it here so much that Guadalajara derails what I thought the next few months would look like. I’ve been planning my return home. Yes, home. The thought of home slowly started to take hold in me in me in Canada. Since then, it has been coming and going, sometimes getting stronger, other times ebbing away, but always there in the background. The reason for that, I think, is twofold. First of all, I made up my mind about what I want to do and where I want to live when I come back. I’m pretty excited about that. I know that once I’m back home, I’ll long for the freedom and the adventure of my life now. I have seriously tried to ignore it, but I can’t, and maybe I don’t want to either. Besides that, I’m slowly falling out of love, into a long-term relationship with cycling. I do really love what I’m doing, but the excitement, the thrill of the first year, when everything was new and exciting, is slowly turning into ‘simply’ what I do. It’s extremely privileged, I do realise that, yet even adventure is subject to habituation, apparently. When I get back, I’ll be gone for nearly two years. For I don’t want to get back in winter. I cannot stand the thought of returning home in the season of darkness and rain. After being outside for so long, I would get depressed instantly. So, here’s what I’ve been thinking about; cycle to Mexico City, fly to Cuba, cycle there for a couple of weeks, find a job in Spain, work there for a while, ride back home in spring, learn Spanish in-between. I still want to do all that, but now I’d like to find a job in Guadalajara instead. I ask the Taller People if that would be possible with my limited Spanish and the fact I don’t have the right papers. “Not a problem at all! We’ll find you something.”, is their collective answer. I’m happy with their encouragement, let’s try!

Marijn and I explore the town. We always have so much to do when we stop and stay stationary for a bit. Write this blog, service the bikes, buy some needed stuff, see the highlights of the place, and most importantly, relax somewhere in-between. This time, partying is added to the list. We met three people in Tequila who invited us to their party. Based on their stories, we get there with high expectations. They weren’t lying. It is an office/birthday party on steroids. The huge roof is filled with people dancing to the minimal beats of an elevated DJ booth, the whole scene playfully lit with a professional lighting system. Inside, two tattoo artists exclusively tattoo the office logo on anybody who’s drunk enough to want one. The bar is open and Marijn and I, immediately taken care of by the host, are getting two shots shoved in our faces, one with snake poison, the other with a burning leaf. This will be fun! We dance the night away, we talk to everybody, and are maybe a little too excited. It’s been a while. We leave when the sun is long up, and spend the better part of the next day horizontally.

At the party I also meet tattoo artist Illian. I’ve been wanting to get the model name of my trusty Trek tattooed that got stolen in San Francisco: 520. Two days later it’s done, it’s a homage not actually to the bike, but to this adventure.  

I already miss Guadalajara when we get ready to leave. The bittersweet feeling of a great time but one that passed. But who knows, I might be back soon.