Archaeological Mesoamerica and Counterfeit Pesos

Saturday, February 16, 2019

Although Art and I feel at home in Baja, we haven’t ventured further afield to mainland Mexico. Although there is much to do to shut down our Zacatitos Casita for a week, the morning cleanup and departure is easy and at 10:30 A.M. we are speeding along the two lane ribbon asphalt highway towards the San Jose Del Cabo airport. Although Art will return in a week, I will fly directly from Mexico City back to San Jose California, so I say goodbye to our beautiful desert and our beloved "Witch Tit" mountains that jut perkily against the flawless blue horizon.

Zacatitos Mountains

Art parks our 4 Runner at the long term Anchor parking; $25 for the week and they provide a taxi pick up to take us the short drive to domestic terminal one. I am always anxious that I have somehow made a mistake in reservations but the check in process is seamless and we breeze through security with our carryon luggage and are soon swallowed into the rear of the immense Interjet plane. We read the Mexico City Lonely Planet guidebook, planning our week itinerary and the flight passes quickly. Mexico City is at 7,300 feet, built on a now mostly receded lake bed and surrounded by volcanic mountains so the pollution from this city of 22 million is trapped in the basin. We descend into a blanket of yellow brown smog.

Taxi fares are regulated and we buy a 220 peso ticket to the Zocalo, about $12. Even on a Saturday afternoon, the traffic is terrible as we get near to the Zocalo and the estimated 20 minute trip takes 40 minutes. Our hotel Central Zocalo is on Avenue Cinco Del Mayo, just steps away from the imposing Zocalo. We decline offers of drinks or coffee at check in and head straight to our room to freshen up and prepare to explore the neighborhood. Our room is small but pretty with charcoal grey walls and a white coved ceiling. A modern built in desk spans the end of the room with a window overlooking the street below.

View from the Zocalo Central Hotel restaurant

Our room at Zocalo Central

We take advantage of the services of Hotels Concierge and ask where we might find a Café. It is 5:00 P.M. and we have missed lunch but is still too early for dinner. She suggests the Café Du Tacuba, three blocks down the street and although not what we expected, we are delighted with its old world ambience. Azulejos tiles decorated the walls and chiaroscuro paintings hang in this old world restaurant. Uniform waitresses with frilly lace bonnets hurry about laden with trays of food and drink.  I ask Art if it reminds him of anything and he tells me the Belen Café in Lisbon and I laugh and acknowledge that was my exact thought. Although the two café/restaurants look nothing alike, the period tiles and costumed waitresses lend a similar ambience. We are fortunate to be seated immediately because before long there is a crowd of hopeful and hungry patrons waiting for a table. The long dining room several side alcoves and an upstairs dining area swallow the crowds of waiting patrons.  We order drinks and an authentic Mexican appetizer platter for two and we enjoy people watching as we wait for our food. The samplings on the platter are melt in your mouth delicious; empanadas stuffed with homemade cheeses and tamales and shredded chicken tostados with ample guacamole and flavorful salsas to dress it all with. There is too much and we leave much of the platter untouched.

Cafe du Tacuba

Street view of Cafe du Tacuba

Art, Cafe du Tacuba

On a side street just cross the street from the restaurant a band is playing dance music. Art and I dance one awkward dance wearing our backpacks and wish that we could stash them aside safely.  We wander the wide shopping promenade packed with Saturday night crowds. Streets performers are on every corner, many dressed in ridiculous Hollywood costumes. Children frantically strum worn guitars and flower and candy sellers vie for the infrequent peso to be tossed their way. Families and lovers stroll the promenade enjoying the mild warm evening. Art and I search for a cozy bar to sit for a drink but the few that we enter are thrumming with deafening music and we eventually settle at an outside restaurant table, continue watching the street action and sip mediocre drinks. After our late meal at Café du Tacuba, we want just a light bite before bed.

Opera Cafe

We choose the Opera Café for its old world ambience (and the soccer game playing on its T.V. screen.)  An ornate wooden bar stretches across one of the walls and the baroque and gilded ceiling make it look like part of a movie set. A woman at an adjoining table is drinking what looks like a fruity Sangria from a bowl shaped glass. Instead of pointing to her drink, Art orders what he presumes is the same off the menu and is disappointed when the drink served him is not what the woman is drinking. We share a Caesar salad and return to hotel exhausted.

Sunday, February 17th, 2019

We enjoy the first breakfast in our hotel’s 6th floor restaurant with a terrace view overlooking the Cathedral and the Zocalo. The view is stunning and the morning sun streams into the elegant dining room.  We graze the ample buffet, order coffee and enjoy the view of the Cathedral and Zocalo below.

Archaeological Museum

Fountain in the center courtyard

Window detail of the museum 

We take a taxi to the Archaeological Museum in preparation for our visit to the Pyramids of Teotihuacan tomorrow. It is a world class museum and we spend the entire day immersed in the various Mesoamerican cultures. The museum is beautifully curated and clearly delineated into eight Mesoamerican periods and cultures. Here is the link to a great U-tube video explaining the time frame for these civilizations. The intensity of the museum demands that we take a couple of breaks and we enjoy both a late morning coffee break and a lovely late lunch at the museum café.  (I am especially fascinated with the various serpent sculptures.)

Serpent head sculpture

Serpent sculpture

Marty with coiled serpent sculpture

Carved sacrificial platform

Feathered serpent

Coiled serpent sculpture

The Taxi and Counterfeit Money Saga:

We close the museum down and at 5:00 P.M. sit outside on a shady cement bench and plan our evening. We are not far from La Condesa District and decide to take a taxi there. We seldom take taxis but because of my injured knee and that our hotel concierge has told us that bus transit cards are no longer available we walk towards the ring of taxis. They circle like vultures and the driver first in line snatches us greedily and tells us it will be 120 – 150 pesos for the short ride to La Condesa. He turns on his meter and ten minutes later, deposits us on a tree lined street in the Condesa. The meter reads just over 180 pesos (not quite $10) and Art hands him a 200 Peso bill. The driver quickly hands it back pointing out that it is torn on the edge and asks for another bill. Art opens his wallet and hands him a second 200 peso note. It is missing a tiny piece of its corner and the driver returns it and points to a 500 Peso bill in Art’s open wallet. Thoroughly confused Art accepts the second 200 Peso bill back and hands him the 500 peso note. The driver now seems confused as if he is having difficulty making change; chortles, shrugs and returns the 500 peso note to Art requesting another 200 peso note. We are still sitting in the back seat of the taxi and I watch Art’s open wallet carefully and the proper number of bills have seemingly been returned. Art adds a small coin as a tip and we exit the cab checking that we have all of our belongings. Shall I tell you what has unfolded now or first make you suffer through reading about our evening spent in La Condesa? As we exit the taxi, Art comments on the weird exchange but not wanting to pull out his wallet on the street, it is not until we return to our hotel later that what has transpired becomes clear. Back at the hotel, Art suspicion of being passed counterfeit money is verified. We have some cash in our room safe and compare both a genuine 200 and 500 Peso bill with the bills now in Art’s wallet. On two of the new wallet bills the images are noticeably darker, lack iridescence and the bills themselves are slightly smaller. It is likely that the taxi driver switched yet another counterfeit 200 Peso bill on us but if that was the case, we passed it unwittingly to a bar tender for two of the worst drinks on the planet. Art is beating himself up and I am mildly amused. At the most, the scam cost us $50 so it was an inexpensive lesson learned. Our good friends recently returned from Mexico City with a counterfeit money saga where they exchanged a considerable amount of money and received counterfeit bills.

Counterfeit or Genuine?

Flash Back to Our La Condesa Evening:

It is close to 6:00 P.M. on a Sunday evening when our taxi deposits us in La Condesa district. We have no clear map of the area so we wander aimlessly in one direction and then another until we come to a street lined with restaurants. In our usual dysfunctional manner, we read every menu in the area and out of exhaustion eventually choose a hole in the wall bar to sit for a drink. My knee is throbbing but Art casts a winning smile at me and I agreeably succumb to his wishes. This dingy bar has little appeal except that it is showing a MMA game on its T.V. (Art’s preference, over main stream sports.) The drinks are half the price of everywhere else in this trendy district and although we are no longer struggling pack packers I hoist myself upon the bar stool in hopes of a decent drink. The are no other customers and I foolishly order a cosmopolitan and Art orders a margarita. Our drinks are generous but AWFUL and we leave our half-finished drinks, pay our minimal bill (possibly with counterfeit money) and continue our search for dinner.  Although our dinner is decent, it is not memorable although it may be to the waiter, if we paid with counterfeit money?