Six months later, I finally get around to posing our Cuba post.

It's a long and rambling one, sorry. It's a culmination of not being able to publish a blog post due to lack of internet and a need to sound like I know something interesting about Cuba.

I don't need to tell you that Cuba, Havana particularly, is famous for it's beautiful 1950s cars. I was surprised by just how many there are on the streets. It's every forth or fifth car, many of them beautifully restored. The mear fact that there are so many still up and running is testament to the build quality of the cars and the skills of the mechanics that maintain them. They don't build them like they used to.

1950s cars are really a unique flavour of car. Their designs still seem space-aged. They're from a time of post war boom and a burgeoning space-race on both sides of the iron curtain. A time when it was not a question of 'if' we could land a man on the moon but 'when'. It was 1961 when JFK uttered the memorable phrase "we don't do it because it's easy, we do it because it's hard." These cars have fins which serve no practical purpose other than to sell cars to people that dreamt about flying to the moon.

So it's fitting then that Cuba appears to have stopped right in the middle of this period - the revolution finally succeeded January 1, 1959. The optimism that the cars are so symbolic of is shared with Cuba's socialist revolution - it was a time of profound change when anything seemed possible. Fifty years or so after independence they were now out from under the thumb of another country.

The same can probably be said for Communism with it's infinite abundance of optimism coupled with a model that is firmly rooted in 1848, fifty years or so after the industrial revolution when only a handful of counties had any serious manufacturing industry.

Cuba of 1959 was, in many ways, stuck in a pre-industrial era. A supplier of raw sugar cane and coffee for the Spanish, then the British and finally the US. One of the first things Castro did when he took power was to fertilise the country's soil that had been drained of all nutrient by sugar cane plantations so they could even begin to think about planting polycultural crops again in the hope of being able to feed an underemployed and undernourished country. For much of the country, 1959 meant the end of serfdom.

The revolution achieved an enormous amount in a relatively short period of time: a world class healthcare system and an excellent education system which meant that the country went from high levels of illiteracy to effectively 100% literacy in an astonishingly short period of time to name two.

Of course the people of Cuba are not shielded from the excesses of government power, which is inexcusable. On a trivial level that just makes it really hard for a passing tourist such as myself to get online. But for your average Cuban than means detention of political prisoners, restrictions of travel (which are being relaxed) and a state-controlled media.

Yes, by all accounts Cuba is changing dramatically. But the change isn't coming from the relaxing of travel restrictions to US citizens as many seem to imply - at least not yet. It's coming from a change in leadership with Raoul Castro implementing a range of changes including allowing a limited number of private restaurants, the ability to buy and own cars and so on. They've also went from being a fairly homophobic regime to being a world leader in LGBTI rights when they started providing sex change operations free of charge. A world leading heath care system indeed.

And the increase in tourism has definitely meant more money for the locals and that situation will improve when they unify their two currencies so those with access to the Cuban Convertible Peso aren't the only ones enjoying those gains. It's one of the things that really surprised me about Cuba: just the level of tourism, even when US citizens are still largely restricted from entering.

We were in Havana for the few days before HRH Barak Obama arrived and the city resembled a construction zone with all of the old town getting a fresh lick of paint, an increasing number of Cuban flags hanging from windows and several cultural institutions closed for a bit of a touchup before he arrived. No doubt a lifting of trade embargoes and the likes will dramatically transform Cuba, but hopefully not at the price of sovereignty. During the 60s and 70s when the IMF and World Bank were playing loose and fast with conditional loans, it was often a requirement that a loan recipient stopped trading with Cuba as part of the economic restructuring required to receive the loan. Free trade indeed.

But back to Havana. It is definitely one of the most beautiful cities I've seen. The restoration of the old town has been an astonishing success. We were staying right on Palaza Veija which is in the middle of the old town and an ideal location. Our host was an outrageously gay man with a loud husky voice and had a couple of younger lads getting about in particularly short leopard print shorts helping him run the Casa Particular as well as taking care of his elderly mother who you would find in various comfortable chairs about the place quietly knitting away.

When trying to find the place in a taxi from the airport, no one knew the street that our Casa was on as they still use the old names for the streets - something that's only possible in a world without Google Maps. That said, I was quite surprised to see a lot of locals with smart phones amongst a much more prolific level of consumer items than expected in this anti-capitalist country.

Touristic highlights for us included the two Bella Arts Museums, particularly the Cuban one (the other was international) which housed an amazing collection of art from the colonialist period right up to some really impressive contemporary art - much of it overtly political but some more subtle than others. Another highlight was the revolutionary museum which provided an appropriately partisan history of the revolution and conflicts with the US since. I particularly enjoyed learning about Camilo Cienfuegos who seems to be the forgotten member of the Jan 1, 1959 team along with Che and the Castro brothers.

It was also good to occasionally get out of the old town. I don't think we ever actually left the old town, other than to go to the fort on the other side of the bay, but once you got our of the restored areas we got a better glimpse at the 'real' Havana. It's much grimier and less touristy. The music is a little grimier too.

Speaking of which, the omnipresent Afro-Cuban beats which permeate the city (and most of the country really) also deserve a mention. The counterpoint to which is the recently retired, and particularly white tourists who had just done a salsa lesion and were keen to show off a few moves while I cringed with embarrassment for them - someone had to, they were obviously shameless. I'm just saying, I know my limitations and one should only dance like no one is watching when, in fact, there is no one watching.

Our next step was the resort town of Varadero where we checked into our all-inclusive beach-front resort for Ariane's birthday where it proceeded to rain, have the temperature drop below 20 (it had been well over 30 the whole time we were in Havana) and kick up a strong wind which made swimming and beach-time a no-go. We did put our bathers on so that we could swim up to the swim-up bar for a Piña Colada but it was too cold for that to last long.

But we made the most of it, and the complementary bottle of rum in the room which seemed to evaporate at an alarming rate. The night of Ariane's birthday we went to a show which was proceeded by a salsa lesson that half a bottle of Rum, four Piña Colada's, two Cuba Libres and a Mojito had me participating in at the birthday girl's request. We were then front row, centre for the performance which was memorable for it's Titanic Scene which culminated in a dramatic death scene at Ariane's feet. She sipped her large glass of rum. unimpressed. Incidentally despite her Eurovision cred' Celien Dion can just fuck right off - I don't think I've said that publicly enough.

We then danced the night away (well Ariane did while I periodically brought her glasses or Rum). The following day was punctuated by enthusiastic greetings by seemingly complete strangers. I think we made some friends somewhere along the way.

Our next step was Trinidad where we spent a few nights wandering around. It's a really beautiful old colonial town that seems to have been frozen in time a little earlier than Havana. There isn't a huge amount to do in there so we largely just wandered around. Again, once you get off the main tourist trail things really change. It amazed me to see people still getting around on horseback and just how run down and poor much of the city is which contrasts with the restored areas.

Our last stop was Cienfegous, a beautiful old city on a huge bay with no shortage of large fancy yachts anchored at the Yacht club. The city was actually colonised by the French and the architecture shows it with a little Art Neauvo to boot. Taxi's here are literally a horse and cart with a little trailer attached for passengers.

We spent the day wondering along the malacon and stopped at an old Casa that was built with a bit of a Moroccan feel for lunch, complete with Arabic inscriptions. But it was scorchingly hot in the mid day sun which wore us two travel weary folk out a bit so it was back to the rooftop terrace to watch the sun go down over the bay - a fitting end to a few weeks in Cuba.

Our last week or so has been spent in the state of Quintana Roo. It's the southern half of the Yucatán Peninsular And probably the most frequented state for tourism (particularly from the US). It's even in a different time zone to the rest of the peninsular, we're told because they wanted to be in the same time-zone as New York so that it made it easier for US tourists.

We arrived in the town of Tulum and when we explained to our host at our hotel that we'd been in Mexico for nearly 4 months she said something to the effect of: "Oh, so you've seen the real Mexico then. Welcome to the US Mexico."

We spent a few nights in the town of Tulum which was actually quite nice and not too touristy. It's a more relaxed alternative to Cancun. We finally made it out to a Cenote, the Grand Cenote no less. There are plenty of Cenote's in the area and this is one of the more popular ones because it's so picturesque and a bit more open than some of the other ones which can essentially be caves. This one also housed tortoises, bats and little fish that liked to pick at your feet.

On another day we made our way to the Tulum ruins. Almost all of the towns on the peninsular are associated with some sort of ruin (Rio Lagartos being a notable exception) - your standard Spanish territorial piss. These ones are notable because they are right on the beach. The main temple aligns with a gap in the reef just off shore to aid navigation. Incidentally the reef is the second largest barrier reef in the world (after the Great Barrier Reef of course) and stretches all the way down to Belize.

The weather was starting to turn on us though. It poured rain the whole time we were out at the ruins which didn't bode well for our the beach-front resort we had booked five nights at on the coast of Tulum.

The resort was the Papaya Playa Project which is one of the more eco-friendly resorts along Tulum's 13 km beach front. And the weather actually behaved itself most of the time, bar the odd thunderstorm which was often just quite exciting. Our time there was largely spent reading on the beach with the occasional dip in the warm Caribbean sea.

So here we are. Sitting in a hotel room in Cancún, our last destination in Mexico. We're just here for a couple of nights while we get everything ready for our flight to Cuba. Cancún is a notoriously trashy 'Spring Break' destination for rich US kids who party it up on the beach front resorts. We're staying down-town. It has an airport with flights to Cuba.

It's a strange feeling to finally leave Mexico. We've been here for just shy of four months and are well and truly in the rhythm of it. We've both absolutely loved it. In a funny way it's a shame to have travelled it so extensively because we now lack an excuse to come back... although we never quite made it to the Oaxacan coast.

Some parting thoughts on Mexico:

The counter-reformation in Spain was as much a conservative reaction to emergent capitalism as it was a Catholic revival in the face of the increasingly industrious Protestant Reformation. It was a landed gentry and church that quite liked feudal rent-seeking arrangements which maintained existing power structures. The invasion and colonisation of Nuevo Españia explicitly harked back to the crusades and a middle ages that Europe was emerging from with Spain actively dragging it's heels.

All this set the scene not only for a horrendous massacre of millions and the systematic dismantlement of entire cultures, but also meant that any possible advantage that could have been gained by contact with Europe was certain to be withheld. Instead they suffered centuries of being treated as little more than a source of cheap labour and natural resources. There was no industrialisation and any money generated from the silver mines or the cochineal beetle never materialised in Mexico itself. In fact the Spanish were doing such a good job of cocking everything up that none of the money was ending up in Spain either - it was being used to pay British and Dutch creditors.

Despite all this, Mexico maintains a rich and diverse cultural mix and a clear sense of pride in a history of rebellion and fighting for justice. The challenges continue of course with the US now acting as imperial overlord, providing a market for violent drug cartel product and imposing trade agreements like NAFTA which destroy local industry. But where else do you get resistance movements like the ELZN, inspired by Emiliano Zapata from one hundred years prior - still militantly fighting for land rights with a clear and ethical political agenda:

Mexico's hour of revenge struck in 1910: the country rose in arms against Porfirio Días. An agricultural leader headed the insurrection in the south: he was Emiliano Zapata, purest of revolutionaries, most loyal to the cause of the poor, most determined to right he wrongs of society.

For agricultural communities throughout Mexico, the last decades of the nineteenth century had been a period of ruthless pillage...In Anenecuilco, where Zapata lived and to which he belonged body and soul, the plundered peasants claimed the soil they had worked for seven continuous centuries: they were there before Cortés arrived. But those who spoke up were marched off to forced labor in Yucatán. Throughout their state, whose good land belonged to seventeen families, they lived considerably worse than the polo ponies the latifundistas pampered in luxurious stables. A law in 1909, providing further seizure of land from its legitimate owners, was the last straw. Zapata, taciturn but famous as the state's best horsebreaker and respected by all for his honesty and courage, turned guerrillero. The men of the south quickly formed a liberating army.

Eduardo Galeano, Open Veins of Latin America: Five centuries of the pillage of a continent

One doesn't like to generalise too much about a people or a culture - especially when it's as diverse as Mexico's. I'm also aware that despite being in the country for four months what one sees as a tourist is far from the entire picture. But I can't help but notice there's a warmth to this country, a spirit that is just so endearing. There's no one ever really hassling you, despite tourism being a major form of income for so many. You notice people giving beggars money all the time. Only one taxi driver ever tried to rip us off (and we caught a LOT of taxis). We never felt threatened. You rarely see a drunk Mexican.

They're hard working and just trying to get by on a shitty wage most of the time but are always laughing and making jokes. There's a particular outbreak of laughter that becomes so familiar when all the 'lads' are hanging a bit of shit on one of their mates - in the best possible taste of course. There's rarely any sleaziness and same sex couples walk hand in hand even in the most rural backwaters. Of course being a catholic country they were one of the first to legalise same-sex marriage.

As someone that likes to look for positive expressions of masculinity, I feel most Mexican men do a fine job of it. They're strong and stoic, but also gentle, kind and respectful. Sunday is 'family outing' day and it would always strike us that it was the men caring for the crying child or running around keeping the kids entertained while the mother would sit back and relax - a welcome break no doubt. Every time a young boy served me in their parents absence for whatever reason, I'd always make a point of saying 'gracias señor' just to see a big grin come over them, so pleased to be considered a man.

Then there's the dancing. It would almost choke me up every Sunday night when bands play in main squares right across the country and all the old folk get up and dance - sometimes hundreds of them, all bouncing along in unison. It's beautiful.

And let's not forget Lucha Libre!

We're really sad to leave such a wonderful place. We've been so privileged to have been able to 'do' Mexico 'properly'. But my communist idealism lays in wait to be crushed by Cuba's failed experiment. Right?

Our last stop in Yucatan was Valladolid, a quieter, less touristy town that is in the middle of the Peninsular and a great launch pad for all the Mayan ruins in the area. Chief amongst those ruins is Chichen Itza - perhaps the most quintessential of all Mayan ruins.

As a result of being so quintessential, it is also probably the most touristy place we've been to since Frida Kahlo's Casa Azul in Mexico City. It's large, well preserved central pyramid is exactly what you imagine when you imagine a Mayan temple. So, tick, more ruins seen. Saw a snake out there as well! Just a little one though, seemed harmless.

The other ruins we went out to were Ek' Balam. While much less popular, it is more impressive in some ways. It hasn't been cleared/excavated as extensively as Chichen Itza so the jungle still swallows up large parts of it. But the main temple is actually, essentially an ancient apartment complex which is quite unique and impressive, especially as it actually pre-dates Chichen Itza. It also makes it one of the most complex buildings the Mayans ever constructed.

But the highlight of our time in Valladolid, and really one of the highlights of the whole trip, was Río Lagartos which translates to 'Alligator River' because it's an estuary with crocodiles - stupid Spanish.

We were keen to get out there because it's a breeding spot for Flamingoes and because the best time to see them is the morning and evening we spent the night there. We found a lovely guide with a boat to take us out on the 20 kilometre long estuary where we found hundreds of Flamingoes as well as Osprey, Black Hawks, Vultures, Herons, Egrets, Stalks, Cranes, Cormorants, King Fishers, White Pelicans, Brown Pelican and one unfortunate crocodile.

While looking through binoculars at the Flamingoes an Osprey plunged into the water in front of me and pulled out a fish.

The deepest part of the estuary is only one and a half metres deep but most if it is really only a few inches which accounts for the large number of long legged birds who are mostly just standing in the water, not least of which are the Flamingoes of course. They were certainly the brightest coloured ones we've ever seen (and we do seek them out). But what a ridiculous creature. We were a little early for mating season which starts mid to late march but some of the younger ones were starting to practice their strut. They are surprisingly elegant in the air with long skinny necks sticking out front and long skinny legs out the back but with a sizeable body with huge colourful wings. I really feel like their bills are on upside down with the bulk of it making up the bottom part and just a little flap on top which makes their honking sounds all the more comical. It's also easy to see why Lewis Carol thought to use them as Croquet sticks with the way they stick their necks out.

So that was Valladolid. I'll spare you my usual history lesion about the Caste War, I usually just lift that from Wikipedia anyway.

From Palenque it was down along the coast to Campeche, the peaceful, picturesque state capital with pastel coloured houses and a long (albeit under utilised) beach front esplanade. Two of it's previous walls remain, a 17th century remnant of the string of piracy attacks the city suffered when British interests started to conflict with the Spanish.

We're firmly on the Yucatan Peninsular now. It's still Mayan country (and will remain so for the rest of our trip). Unlike Mexico City and the North, the Spanish took about 130 years to fully gain control over the region - jungles are notoriously difficult places to conquer. Many of the Mayans continue to live in villages outside of town, still keeping in touch with a more traditional way of living, only coming into town from the surrounding region to work.

There's not a lot to say about Campeche really. We spent three nights there just wandering around. Unfortunately the beach is pretty much just a wall so there was no swimming but it was nice to be by the seaside again. The Baluartes (Bulwarks) that are still part of the remaining wall all contain small museums about the town of varying levels of quality.

One of the Baluarte puts on a sound and light show most nights, and as Ariane has a 'bit of a thing' for them, we coughed up our entrance fee with fairly low expectations. The wall itself served no purpose other than as a projection screen for which is was ill-equipped given it's roughness and large black patches. Thankfully it was subtitled though which helped us make sense of what was happening on the wall behind where a small band of adolescents acted out what was being show on the screen.

It's hard to find the right words to describe what we saw. Amateurish, sure, but the history it presented had a particular flavour to it as well. For example, apparently 'the natives' were compensated for the loss of their land and culture by being given the opportunity to accept 'the one true god' into their lives. In another part, the Mexican skin colour was celebrated as a mix of the dark native skin and the white Spanish skin. The commentary was accompanied by what could really only be characterised as a rape scene where a Mayan woman is dragged screaming away by a conquistador. Then appeared happily together a few scenes later though.

The next stop was Merida 'capital of the Yucatan Peninsular' and tourist hotspot. We had a week there which we initially thought would be way too much but as it happened time flew by.

We'd met a young Australian couple in Oaxaca who were staying at the same AirBnB as us. We bumped into them again in San Cristóbal where we had a couple of beers with them and as it it turned out they were also in Merida at the same time (thanks Facebook). We spent quite a bit of time with them in Merida which was really lovely. They're both really sweet, infectiously enthusiastic, and at the start of a big trip so eager for travel tips from weary old travellers like us.

Our time with them largely consisted of two failed attempts at a day trip. The first was to the sea-side town of Progreso. There's a Ecological Reserve out there which we tried to find but failed after wandering about in the mid-day sun for a while. When we couldn't find it and decided to head for the beach instead, where we were met with a strong onshore wind and murky and uninviting water. So we just and lunch and headed back to Merida. It was actually a nice day, just not the intended one.

Our second day trip attempted was to Dzibilchaltún, about 30km out of town where there are some some ruins and a Cenote. Throughout the peninsular there is limestone bedrock that rivers run through underground. Occasionally there is an opening to the surface which create these ideal swimming holes - Cenotes. The one at Dzibilchaltún is meant to be 40 meters deep. Initially we followed the Lonely Planet's advice on how to get there which was quite misleading. And then when we finally asked a few people and were pointed in the right direction, it turned out the buses don't run on a Sunday. So we whiled the afternoon away in a bar and no one really minded.

Otherwise Merida consisted of a couple of small museums and galleries as well as plenty of shopping (but very little buying). The hustle is much stronger in Merida than it has been in other cities but I guess that comes with the tourism. Nothing has a price tag on it - it's always a give away.

It came to Monday and thankfully I checked our bus ticket because we were due to leave on the Tuesday but were both pretty sure it was Wednesday. Like I say, time flew by.

We arrived in Valladolid last night but more of that next time.

In 1994 Mexico stood on the brink of revolution. The corrupt and ineffective Partido Revolucionario Institucional (PRI) had been in government for 65 years and had just signed the North Atlantic Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) which was correctly predicted to destroy local industries and increase the wealth gap between rich and poor.

On January 1, the day NAFTA came into power, the hitherto unknown Zapatista Army of National Liberation (Ejército Zapatista de Liberación Nacional, EZLN) came down out of the mountains of Chiapas and briefly took control of Ocosingo, Las Margaritas, Huixtán, Oxchuc, Rancho Nuevo, Altamirano, and Chanal as well as freeing prisoners from gaol in San Cristóbal de las Casas.

They were quickly suppressed by the military and retreated to the surrounding mountains but they had shaken the establishment and aroused a sense of hope for many on the left. For a while, it felt like meaningful change was possible in Mexico. The group was largely made up of indigenous people articulately arguing for land rights through its charismatic spokes person Subcomandante Marcos.

The ELZN or Zapatistas, take their name from Emiliano Zapata, the agrarian reformer and commander of the Liberation Army of the South during the revolution.

In a sense their emergence was the start of what would go on to be called the Global Justice Movement - a 'movement of movements'. Key protests were held in Seattle which temporarily shut down the 1999 WTO Ministerial, the original 'S11' in Melbourne when the World Economic Forum met at Crown Casino and the 27th G8 meeting Genoa where a particularly brutal response from police ended in the death of one protester and the hospitalisation of hundreds of others.

The World Bank, the IMF and the newly formed World Trade Organisation were set-up or re-purposed with hard line laissez faire economic models and were ripping the fabric of society out from underneath working people globally, destroying industries and livelihoods in their wake.

The response from the left was this 'movement of movements' which brought together a wide range of disparate groups in one a rare moment of leftist unity to fight for a more democratic and inclusive world.

This all formed the backdrop of my political awakening. As a young punk rocker with plenty of angst to to burn, I started reading and getting involved in various activist activities with a sense that a better world was possible and change was happening.

It was about this time that I became aware of the EZLN, particularly after they marched from Chiapas to Mexico City to demand land rights in 2001. I even bought Subcomandante Marco's book and badly memorised a few of its more poetic passages.

Which is the long and drawn out way of me saying, I've been meaning to get to Chiapas for some time. Our first of two stops was the beautiful San Cristóbal de las Casas, a key town in terms of support of the EZLN cause. A group of Zapatista supporters are camped out in the Zocola (main square) protesting for land rights, free education and the release of a number of political prisoners.

High up in the mountains, it was much cooler than Oaxaca and had a broody feel as the clouds roll in over the mountain every afternoon. Like Oaxaca though, it's indigenous population has a strong presence and the whole region has a more powerful sense of regional identity. These people are the descendants of the Mayans.

There are lots of pushy older indigenous women selling shawls and ponchos and it's a hot spot for white hippies with far too many gringos wearing said ponchos with sandles for my liking. There's also a large Guatemalan population. Given it's proximity to the border, lots of Guatemalan migrants pass through.

We spent most of our week there just meandering around visiting a variety of eclectic museums. There's an impressive textile museum (in the mandatory re-purposed monastery) showcasing the skill and local diversity of the fabrics in the broader region. Then there was the Amber museum which took great pains to explain that the premise of the film Jurassic Park was a load of bull shit. And finally the 'insect museum' which contained a room full of terrarium's housing live tarantulas that has had my skin crawling ever since.

From San Cristobal we made our way down to Palenque, in the jungle near the northern border of Chiapas. For the first time since we got on the Copper Canyon railway we were below 1500m above sea level. The normal road from San Cristobal to Palenque was closed so our 5 hour bus ride became a 9 hour one but through some stunning scenery as we wove our way down through the mountains into the jungle.

Palenque itself is quite uninteresting but 6 km out of town are some amazing Mayan ruins that poke out from the jungle like a scene from an Indiana Jones movie. Just to add to the effect, as we walked up to them a black rodent the size of a particularly stocky cat shot past in front of us. At the same time you could hear the Howler Monkeys in the jungle around you and it was obvious from where they got their name.

So we scrambled over the ruins for a few hours which was great - exploring the tombs and the surround metropolis with monarch butterflies all around and the occasional iguana.

When we stopped for a late lunch of traditional Mayan food on our way back to our hotel a flock of Scarlet Macaw's flew in for the evening. It was a pretty special place.

In a funny way, it felt like we were on holiday again for the first time in a while. I know, I can hear your groan from here. But being in shorts in the jungle, just taking our time in the peace and quiet was just really relaxing and a pleasant change from the noisy chaos that is the rest of the country.

We're down on the Yucatan Peninsular now where we'll be for our remaining four weeks in Mexico. But more of that later.

Oaxaca was always a city we were particularly looking forward to and it did not disappoint. It was simultaneously a sleepy quiet town and really vibrant with lots of life. It's pretty in an effortless way unlike many of it's colonial counterparts with a strong connection to it's diverse indigenous heritage.

Oaxaca, the state, is one of the poorest in Mexico thanks in no small part to a particularly oppressive colonialist past. But the city is filled with boutique stores, artisan beers and more mole than I knew what to do with (other than try and eat it all).

The centre of town is Templo de Santo Domingo an impressive cathedral which adjoins a massive complex that was once a monastery and was until recently an army barracks. The old monastery houses an impressive, albeit curated in Spanish, history museum. But what is most impressive is the Ethno-botanical gardens that it encloses.

Entry is only possible with a tour group and our guide was amazing. Everything in the garden was native to Oaxaca which is a particularly diverse region in terms of both climate and botany. It really was fascinating.

The Cochineal is a small insect that, when dried out and ground down produces a red dye that can colour both food and clothes and was originally farmed in Oaxaca by indigenous producers. When the Spaniards found out they did what they do best, enslaved the local population and exported massive amounts of dried insects to Spain.

At the time, it was the best red dye available and given it's a regal colour and the Pope's colour it became more valuable than the silver or gold they were forcing the indigenous population to dig up elsewhere in the country.

So we have the irony of the Mexican state being responsible for one of the world's most valuable commodity, being one of the poorest regions of Nueva España. This goes some way toward explaining such a rich and splendid church in such a poor place.

This is the sort of historical fact that our tour was full of. I'll spare you the rant about the hoard of American and Canadian tourists that joined us on the tour complete with their sense of entitlement coupled with a need to vocalise. Let's just say I was paying careful attention to which plants were poisonous.

There was a wedding in Templo de Santo Domingo one evening which was quite an affair. As they emerged all hell broke loose with a band, enormous puppet versions of the bride and groom, some dancers and a tone of fireworks. They danced down the street with much of the town in tow lead by a guy with a cow puppet on is head that let off a seemingly dangerous number of fireworks given the proximity to his head. One only needs to witness something like that to realise just how much of a nanny state Australia can be.

We spent a day out at the ruins of Monte Alban which was impressive but not quite as overwhelming as Teotihuacan, although pre-dating it. It was the pre-eminent Zapotec socio-political and economic centre for close to a thousand years.

We went to a range of different art galleries and museums - many of them impressively housed in former religious buildings. And we shopped. A lot. So much shopping that we had to send a box home which weighed double our initial estimation and means we should probably avoid eating for a week or two to try and close the budgetary hole it opened.

We also saw the world's biggest tortilla which is, naturally, now a mural with a history of Mexico housed in the town hall, Palacio de Gobierno.

As we had a week there, we also spent plenty of time in the city's numerous rooftop bars and restaurants, drinking Mescal and eating either fried chilli-crickets or yet another unique Mole blend.

It was the warmest weather we'd had in months. The week flew by; we could have easily spent much longer there. But we're getting towards the tail end of our trip now so we've got to keep moving.

Leaving Mexico City really marks the third (and final) phase of our Mexican adventures: The South.

First up was four nights in Taxco - the beautiful old silver town nestled into the side of a mountain. The streets are steep and windy, serviced by a fleet of old VW Beetle taxis which have the necessary grunt and are rear-wheel drive which means they have the requisite turning circle.

The walls are all white-washed with terracotta rooves and just about every restaurant has a terrace with a beautiful view of the surrounds.

I don't know why we decided to spend four nights there - it's not like there are a lot of sites to see or anything like that - but we were more than happy to just wander around for days.

The city is known for it's silver work. The US architect and silversmith William Spratling moved to Taxco in the 1920s and managed to exert enough influence that the city went from a silver mining town to a town that exports silverwear. Spratling himself mixed traditional Mexican motifs with an Art-Deco style to produce some really beautiful silverware that the rest of the population has been doing it's best to replicate since.

We then cut eastwards across the country over to Puebla where we spent a couple of nights. Puebla is a bit of a 'just another big city' and two nights was ample. It's most noteworthy for it's cathedrals. The Iglesia de Santo Domingo in particular has an astonishingly ornate gold-lined chapel that was almost certainly the best one we've seen in Mexico. It also features on their $200 (peso) note.

We're also moving south into Mole country which is proving to be considerably more diverse than I expected. We went to a restaurant one night in Puebla that had a Mole degustation with 5 different varieties.

We're now down in the Mole capital - Oaxaca where we're spending a week, but I'll update you on that then.

It's hard to believe our time in Mexico City is finally coming to an end. We've been here a month now but it really doesn't feel like it. There are still a few boxes that will be left unticked for now but we've been trying to fill in the gaps since the last post.

Perhaps the biggest omission so far had been Teotihuacan, the ancient Mesoamerican city an hour's bus ride North East of DF. Founded around 100BC, hitting it's zenith around 100AD and being sacked and systematically burned around 550 AD it once housed around 125,000 people. That's nearly three times as many people as Albury! Wikipedia tells me it sixth largest city in the world during its epoch which is impressive given it overlaps with the Roman empire.

It also has the 3rd largest pyramid in the world, which we clambered to the top of. I was relieved to see younger, fitter looking people also struggling as I gasped for air. It doesn't help that it's 2,500m above sea level either and the wind was blowing just strongly enough to make your legs wobble an unsettling amount.

So it was all very impressive. The fact that stands out to me, is that the city remained a mythological entity after it's collapse. It continued to be venerated by various pre-Hispanic groups including the Aztecs who, 700 - 800 years later claimed a common ancestry and would conduct pilgrimages out to the site. It's the really ancient society that inspired the not-quite so ancient society.

Later in the week we ventured back out to Chapultepec Park, this time to see the Chapultepec Castello. It is North America's only royal palace that actually had royals in residence and commands panoramic views of Mexico city which provides a, illuminating perspective of the valley.

It's no secret that I love a castle and this one really stood up to many of it's European rivals.

With a few hours to kill in the park we decided to return to the Anthropology museum, this time choosing to focus on a few key areas, the Aztecs and the Teotihuacans. It really is a spectacularly good museum that we were once again ushered out of at closing time, still yearning to see all the bits we'd missed.

Other activities included a return to the middle-class suburb of Polanco, this time to check out a couple of art museums we had missed last time were were you there: The Soumaya Museum and Museo Jumex. The Soumaya Museum is an architectural marvel, housing an impressive collection of art from around the world including the likes of Rubens, Dyke, Rembrandt, Rivera, Tamayo, Manet, Monet, Renoir, Degas, Pissarro, Van Gogh, Vlaminck, Chagall and Miró. Like I say, impressive.

Perhaps most impressive of all was the top floor which is largely sculpture, with Rodin and Dali comprising the vast majority of the works.

Museo Jumex is more contemporary in focus with an Allen Rippersburg retrospective and a collection focusing on Latin American artists from the New York Guggenheim collection.

Our final outing for our time in the capital was all the way down to the outer suburb of Xochimilco where there is an elaborate canal system that had been built by the Aztecs. Nowadays one hires a large, Mexican-style gondola-type boat and is rowed around for your allotted time. We spent an hour floating along which was remarkably tranquil. The boats seemed to primarily contain Mexican families who would bring a whole meal along or buy bits and pieces from the vendors that float past on their own boats. Some of the 'vendor boats' even contained entire Mariachi bands if you're in the mood for a serenade.

While we were out there we also went out to Museo Dolores Olmedo, a massive old hacienda which provides a quiet refuge from the surrounding chaos. Olmedo was a patron of Diego Rivera's and the homestead houses a large collection of Rivera and Kahlo works. Unfortunately, the Kahlo collection was on loan in Russia.

So that's it for Mexico City. We've got a couple of nights here on our way from Cuba to Melbourne so there are a couple of small things we'll do then. Otherwise we head south now, first to Taxco.

I'm really looking forward to a comfortable bed, a decent shower but will definitely miss the guy that walks up and down the street selling water at the top of his lungs from about 7am... not. That said, we really do love this city and will honestly be sad to see the other side of it.

Finally, if you'll allow me some shameless self promotion. I built a footy tipping website. So if you're interested in starting a footy tipping competition with friends or colleagues, it's free and has no advertising: https://afltipster.com

Now, where were we? Everyone back at work now? How's that going? I trust you had a nice break.

Since the last post the highlight of Mexico City has almost certainly been Casa Azul - the house Frida Kahlo grew up in, eventually died and also accommodated both Diego Rivera at various times and Leon Trotsky (with whom Frida had an affair in the house).

It houses a reasonably large collection of her artworks as well as a bunch of her trademark Oaxacan Mixtec dresses and various other affects including her ashes. It is the only tourist attraction in all of Mexico that we've had to really line up for with throngs of tourists pouring in.

One thing that really stood out to me was the importance of Communism to Kahlo in particular. She even painted a picture of herself with Stalin and Marx featured in a few paintings. One of her old body casts was on display with a hammer an sickle painted on right in the middle of her chest. Both Kahlo and Rivera have the dubious honour of having switched elegances from Trotsky to Stalin, there can't be too many in that category (or at least few still admit it).

Around the corner was the house that Trotsky moved into after his stint at Casa Azul. All the windows are bricked up and there are gun turrets on several corners of the compound. There were two attempts on his life in that house. The second in 1940, an ice pick to the back of the head, was successful.

It's a thrilling piece of historical memorabilia that we really enjoyed, putting a really fascinating period of history into context.

While on our Kahlo/Rivera binge we also went out San Ángel to El Museo Casa Estudio Diego Rivera y Frida Kahlo the house that Diego's friend and architect Juan O'Gorman built for them. The best bit about it is the architecture. It's essentially two houses joined by a bridge. If you're married to someone and you build two houses (one for each of you) and join them by a bridge to symbolise your love, alarm bells should be ringing. And yes, Rivera was shagging Kahlo's sister which ultimately triggered their divorce.

We had lunch across the road from the house at the San Ángel Inn which is really beautiful old hotel that Pancho Villa and Emillio Zapata met in during the Mexican revolution to agree on a structure of governance between north (Villa) and south (Zapata).

Speaking of meals, we ventured out to the ritzy suburb of Polanco which houses Mexico's equivalent of the Kings Road in Chelsea. We had made a reservation at one of Mexico City's top restaurant, Pujol, and my god it was good. Mexican cuisine but super fancy. Gourmet tacos FTW!

We ventured into Zócalo (the main square) again to visit the main Cathedral (quite impressive but we've been living in Europe...) and the Palacio Nacional which has a few Rivera murals of course. It is striking how government buildings like this are so open to the public. I'm constantly amazed at the way one just walks into these government buildings without any question. There's a lesson in civics there that I quite like. The public own these buildings and should have full access to them.

Mexico is full of craft markets and Mexico City goes one better by having quite a few really big (sometimes state-sponsored) craft markets that house treasures from across this ethically diverse country. We have visited quite a few of these markets now and our total number of purchases is one. They are pretty amazing things just rammed with all sort of delights, most of which are too expensive for these cash-strapped travellers.

And while we're on craft we also paid a visit to the Museum of Popular Art which contains a wide range of more modern interpretations of the multi-faceted cultural output of this diverse country.

Which only leaves me one last thing to mention, we went to Arena Mexico for a Lucha Libre show. The production values are much higher in the big smoke than in Guadalajara with actual barriers to prevent spectators being hit by flying Luchadores. I can't get enough of it.

The crowd was bigger and very vocal with a constant barrage of insults and encouragement - a pattern to which I couldn't pick or understand for that matter. But there were some real superstars of the circuit on display, at least I assume so given I've seen their masks for sale around the traps.

Another 9 days in the capital and still plenty to get done. I'll let you know how we get on.

Well, Happy Christmas. Happy New Year. How's everyone doing? Had a nice break. What pleasantries.

We've been fine, thanks for asking. We've been having a lovely time in Mexico City. It seems it would be hard not to love this heaving mess of a city. It's massive in size and number with around 20 million people. It's also sits in a valley about 2250m above sea level. How can that be a valley? Crazy. It's also a swamp so the city is sinking into said valley. But someone saw an Eagle eating a Snake on a cactus on this very spot many years ago. That can only mean one thing: build the the capital of an ancient empire there.

The history of the place is pretty amazing. Tenochtitlan was founded by the Mexica people in 1325. It eventually became the capital of the Aztec Empire until Cortez arrived in 1519 and eventually got jack of the locals and raised the city in 1521 with the help of small pox and a lengthy siege. They even used the ruins of ancient temples to build their cathedrals in the sort of territorial piss that conquerors are so masterful at.

But enough of that, you've all got access to Wikipedia too.

We're staying in an 'artist studio' in Roma Norte. Roma Norte is super trendy. Loads of really nice bars and restaurants which we've been getting to know. The sorts of places that have three pages of boutique Mescal on the menu.

The apartment is essentially a shed on the roof of a four story 1930's apartment building and it shakes when trucks go past. It's crammed with antique furniture so I haven't been comfortable for two weeks now, and when we first arrived water-rationing was in place. To ration the water in Mexico city, they just turn the water off in the afternoon so showers were scarce for the first few days. Also, the bed collapsed (get your mind out of the gutter, it required little coercing). We managed to put it back together but I hold my breath every time I roll over now.

But what have we been up to? We arrived a few days before Christmas and spent the first few days in Markets pulling together the bits and pieces we needed for Christmas lunch. This is one area where the Spanish influence is appreciated with any number of cured meats, cheeses and other deli delights.

Christmas day was a day of lazily grazing through all the produce we'd bought with a ham and a bit of duck thrown in for good measure.

Then it was time to get cracking on the touristing. The first stop was Templo Mayor, a major Aztec temple right in the heart of Mexico city. It's jumbled mess of temples built on temples as new rulers came to power and the temple sunk into the swamp more and more. The attached museum has got a lot of the ruins that have been excavated in it and if I could read Spanish,i'm sure would have provided the deeper understanding I desire.

Fun fact though: gods are often depicted wearing leather coats of sorts which is thought to be related to flaying of sacrificial humans.

A few days later, as if to emphasise the fact that Mexico City was once part of the Aztec empire we happened across a ceremony of some sort in one of the large squares.

We've had a string of luck with there being once off exhibitions on at the moment that are custom built for me. The first was a Lucha Libre Exhibition at Museo del Objeto del Objeto which had a bunch of old masks and so on.

The second was an exhibition of Soviet Art from the early revolutionary period (before we all became so disillusioned) covering art, architecture, household goods and of course loads of propaganda posters. The exhibition was housed at the Palacio de Bellas Artes with is an enormous and really beautiful Art Deco meets Rocco building on the edge of the old city. Oh, and it has a couple of massive Diego Rivera murals.

Speaking of which, we also went to Museo Mural Diego Rivera which houses his famous Sueño de una tarde dominical en la Alameda Central (Dream of a Sunday Afternoon in the Alameda Central) which was rescued from a hotel destroyed in a 1985 earthquake.

And speaking of earthquakes (I'm a segue master today), we also went past the Museo del Estanquillo which houses a large collection of photos and documents and included an exhibition on the 1985 earthquake that hit Mexico City. The exhibition also had photos from throughout Mexico's turbulent history and included photos of the meeting of Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata (his southern counterpart) as well as photos of both of them having been recently assassinated. There were even candid photos of Subcomandante Marcos and his Zapatista Army of National Liberation (EZLN).

We also happened upon an exhibition of photographs from Lee Miller at the Museo de Arte Moderno. She was a surrealist photographer that was hanging out with the likes of Man Ray, Max Ernst, Picasso, Miro and others. She was a fashion photographer for Vogue and became a war correspondent towards the end of the second world war, capturing photos of the German retreat and the liberation of concentration camps. As well as the stomach churning photos of both dead and liberated prisoners were photos of prison guards that had been caught and beaten by their captors and SS guards that had committed suicide when the allies finally caught up with them. There was also a photograph of the execution of Miklós Kállay, the fascist Hungarian Prime Minister who was found guilty of war crimes in 1946 and faced the firing squad in Budapest.

Museo de Arte Moderno also houses Frida Kahlo's Las dos Fridas. Kahlo only ever had one exhibition in Mexico during her lifetime so there is actually very little of her work in the country as we have discovered. What did we come all this way for?

The Museo de Arte Moderno is in the enormous and bustling Chapultepec Park which houses several other museums and a castle. So we checked out the Museum of Anthropology while we were there as we knew it was open a bit later. It was much bigger than anticipated so we barley saw half of it before being ushered out for closing time. It had been recommended to us by a friend and we probably otherwise wouldn't have gone there, but the history of Mexico's complex ethnographic landscape it provided was fascinating.

The final thing I'll mention is the Tequila and Mescal museum that we went to on Plaza Garibaldi. The museum itself wasn't all that interesting although now that we're out of the Tequila region the focus widens to include Mescal, Tequila's parent spirit which I enjoyed. There's a restaurant on the top that we ate at and were treated to a range of performances from Mexico's various ethnic groups including a Mariachi band.

Plaza Garibaldi is know for it's Mariachi bands so we waded our way through it on our way home which was a lot of fun.

I think that will do us for now. Probably our longest post yet, but that's Mexico City for you - just so much to do. We've got a bit over two more weeks here and we're already having to write lists and prioritise.

We also may have bought a flight home...

After being pretty much on the go for the past two months (since we left Sicily really) we finally slowed down in Guanajuato where we spent a week in a really lovely little apartment on the edge of the UNESCO Heritage listed old town.

As I said in the last post, Guanajuato is also part of the 'silver trail', just a little east of San Miguel de Allende and a colonial marvel as expected. We took things really slowly, with long lazy mornings in the apartment before emerging for a late lunch and a bit of an explore of the town.

It's a university town so full of life. Surely a university is essential for a city's 'liveability' status. There are loads of bars, cafés (best coffee in Mexico yet) and an endless array of really great restaurants.

The culinary highlight was definitely Restaurante Las Mercedes, tucked up in the mountains above Guanajuato in a more upper-class suburb which served up modern interpretations of some Mexican favourites.

Speaking of the mountains, the city is built into a valley a bit over 2000m above sea level. So to manage that, they have built a series of complex tunnel networks though the city which form it's major arteries. They seem to be a really 'lived' thing. There are footpaths that were regularly used (albeit miserable looking), there was 'street' parking and even the occasional bus stand. Have you ever seen a bus stand in a tunnel? I have: Guanajuato.

Guanajuato has two major claims to fame. It was the site of some of the early organised rebellions against the Spanish by the priest Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla which ultimately lead to Mexican independence. Hidalgo is considered one of the fathers of modern Mexico and whose site of execution we saw in Chihuahua (he didn't quite make it to see independence). The other claim to fame is it is the birth place of Diego Rivera, artist, muralist, radical socialist, husband of Frida Kahlo and friend of Leon Trotsky. His childhood home has been preserved and is now a museum with a wide range of his works that span his entire career.

The city is also obsessed with Don Quixote complete with a museum - Museo Iconográfico del Quijote - full of artists impressions of him. Ariane decided he is a subject for art that is not to her taste but we both enjoyed a room full of modern takes on Quixote's hapless squire Sancho Panza. Coincidentally, I'd just started reading The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha just before we arrived.

So now we're in Mexico City where we have an apartment in the suburb of Roma for a month. I'll try and do an update about once a week or so, just so you know we're still here.

The romance of gold hangs over the mountains of Northern Durango like and old perfume There, it is rumored, was that mythical Ophir whence the Aztecs and their mysterious predecessors drew the red gold that Cortex found in the treasury of Moctezuma. Before the dawn of Mexican history the Indians scratched these barren hillsides with dull copper knives. You can still see the traces of their workings. and after them the Spaniards, with flashing, bright helmets and steel breast-plates, filled from these mountains the lofty treasure-ships of the Indies. Almost a thousand miles from the Capital, over trackless deserts and fierce stony mountains, a tiny colorful fringe of the most brilliant civilization in Europe flung itself among the canyons and high peaks of this desolate land; and so far was it from the seat of change that long after the Spanish rule and disappeared from Mexico forever, it persisted here. The Spaniards enslaved the Indians of the region, of course, and the torrent-worn, narrow valleys are still sinister with legend. Almost anybody around Santa Maria del Oro can tell you stories of the old days when men were flogged to death in the mines, and the Spanish overseers lived like princes.

John Reed - Insurgent Mexico

From Durango we made our way across yet more prairie country down to Zacatecas, the northern bound of Mesoamerica, one of the worlds six areas where ancient civilizations independently arose - the second in the Americas.

We decided to pay a little more and take the rare opportunity to stay in a hotel that was a converted bull ring. It was pretty plush accommodation which we soaked up, even ordering room service on one occasion. Unfortunately the experience was somewhat sullied by reception providing some incorrect information that meant that the calls I needed to make to the bank ended up costing us around the equivalent of £100. But I'm over it, it's cool.

It's a pretty old colonial town (as most of them are in this area), rich from the days of silver mining with a grand cathedral. It's built into a steep valley a couple thousand meters above sea level. There's a cable car that runs above the town and up to La Bufa (apparently the Basque word for wine bladder) where there are monuments to Villa and other revolutionaries.

Perhaps the highlight was an old Jesuit monastary that had been converted to beautifully display 3000 of the 8000 masks in Rafael Coronel the personal collection from right across Mexico. The inventiveness of the masks was awe-inspiring with some absolutely mesmerising examples. And they don't muck around when it comes to the devil. We could help but hurry our way through the dimly lit room labeled Máscara del diablo.

The other highlight was Museo Pedro Coronel (a relative of Rafael or just a common name?) which contained an impressive collection of paintings by Miro, Dali and Picasso amount others. Quite an unexpected little gem - again housed in a former Jesuit monastary.

Our next stop was San Luis Potosi. Again, another old colonial city made rich by silver mining and crammed with grand churches and old colonial buildings.

Still on a high from Museo Rafael Coronel's masks we had to check out Museo Nacional de la Mascara which was better curated but with a less impressive collection. This time there was even some signage in English which was illuminating but as seems to be the case in lots of places, the English translations get shorter and shorter as you move though the museum until they just stop all together.

The unexpected highlight of San Luis Potosi though was Museo Federico Silva - a sculptor who does huge, distinctly modern, concrete sculptures which are heavily influenced but the designs and patterns of Mexico's indigenous population. I know, I just rolled my eyes re-reading that last sentence as well, but trust me - they were really impressive.

San Miguel de Allende was next on our tour of the Silver Trail. If we had our time again, we'd have spend three nights here instead of Zacatecas but such is the nature of hindsight when traveling.

Again, it's an old colonial town made rich by silver mining but it was probably the prettiest of the three and, with a large, largely American ex-pat community was well set up for tourists. It was the first time we'd seen English on a menu for a while which just makes life easier. It's also full of lovely boutique shops and no shortage of restaurants and bars with a wide range of cuisines available. You could easily settle in here.

Really the only tourist attraction that we went to was Museo del Juguete Popular Mexicano, a toy museum showcasing toys from across Mexico. It was really fabulous with full Lucha Libre scenes set up and toy Zapatista rebels.

There are a few 'craft' markets - one of them converted from an old cotton spinning factory which housed a more bourgeois, or as Ariane described them, 'less accessible... financially', collection but awfully pretty to walk through.

Our travels now find us in Guanajuato where we've got a week. It's also on the Silver Trail but I'll save it for another post.

Off the Prairie and into Chihuahua we rode. This is proper Cowboy country emphasised by every other man you see in the street wearing cowboy hat and boots.

Chihuahua is the capital of Chihuahua state but seems to really be the capital of the north, due in no small part to it's role in both Mexican independence and the Mexican revolution. I've been reading John Reed's Insurgent Mexico which focuses on the exploits of Francisco "Pancho" Villa, a bandit-cum-revolutionary and commander of the División del Norte in the Constitutionalist Army. Much of his revolutionary activities were based in these parts and I was thrilled to be able to visit his house while we were there and try to learn a bit more about the revolution. It was also where he was assassinated...

Chihuahua is an old colonial town that has undoubtedly lost some of it's charm to development and urbanisation. But it has a rich and fascinating history that echoes out through the rest of Mexico^{[citation needed]} that I can't help but find particularly endearing.

From Chihuahua we caught bus for 10 hrs through the aforementioned cowboy country to Durango. Durango is also a state capital (of the state Durango) and the birthplace of my new hero, Pancho. It was also central to the Mexican revolution, along with nearby Torreón, which both played host to pivotal battles.

We were fortunate enough to meet a lovely woman from Montana on the bus ride there so we had dinner with her on the first night while watching the Christmas Parade roll down the main street. The for the rest of the time we mosied around a few museums (which are all largely in Spanish) and generally absorbed a bit of the town's vibe.

Durango probably had a little more life in it than Chihuahua - especially once the sun went down and the central pedestrian strip, Calle Constitucion, came alive with buskers of all stripes. But again, it suffers a little from 'just another big city' syndrome.

And so ends our brief tour of Northern Mexico. From here we follow Pancho Villa's revolutionary path and head down to the old Silver towns.

The next leg of the trip promised beach and sun as we headed up and along a strip of the Pacific coast. Our first stop was beautiful Puerto Vallarta where it proceeded to rain for two days straight.

It's full of bars, restaurants and resorts along the beach and a bit of a party vibe. That said, we didn't get up to a whole lot. There really isn't any sites as such to visit so we just ducked between eves and slipped in for a Margaritas every now and then to dry off.

How do I put this delicately? Puerto Vallarta is pretty fucking gay. We went for brunch one day and I think we were one of two straight couples (or at least Ariane was one of three females).

It's known as a 'liberally minded' city which lots of largely white American males have embraced fully. And it's really lovely to see. Sure, there's a seedier side to it, but there can't be too many places in the world where it's possible to be as openly gay - in the carefree sense of the word as well as the homosexual sense.

Mazatlán was our next stop which is also a bit of a resort town but a little more sophisticated and middle class. We arrived late on a Saturday night and the town was well and truly alive so we were a little worried we'd missed the main event.

It was a feeling that was reinforced when we got up in the morning to wander around a bit to find deserted streets and closed shops. But after a bit of a siesta we re-emerged to find the city alive again. The foreshore was crammed with families out and about with loads of street food and some young guys diving off the top of a rock a good 15 or 20 meters high into a tiny (but presumably deep) rockpool below for tips from tourists.

We then found the main square where there was live music and settled in for a bit of alfresco dining.

The next day we caught the bus to Los Mochis for the night before getting up at the crack of dawn to get on El Chepe - Mexico's last passenger train that travels from Los Mochis to Chihuahua weaving it's way through the 'Copper Canyon'.

It's the best train ride I've ever been on and I'm a train enthusiast. There's hardly a moment when you're not just staring outside in amazement as the train crosses gorges and rivers and creeps along the edge of cliffs.

Hawks and Turkey Vultures soar above you while falcons sit on top of cacti peering down for an unfortunate rodent.

We spent the night about two thirds of the way along in a tiny town called Divisadero in a hotel that overlooked the Canyon and had bird feeders outside the windows that humming birds hovered around all day long. It's also on the edge of a National Park that has a range of thrill-seeking options including a three kilometre zipline (they're mad on ziplines in Mexico) that has people reach up to 130km an hour ^{[citation needed]}. We opted for the cable car which covered the same route but at a speed where you could actually take it all in.

The next day we finished the journey on the train to Chihuahua. And while we had clearly covered the most spectacular parts the day before, the trip out of the canyon and into Prairie country wasn't without it's charm.