Well, to be frank, this city does not have the energy I expected! 

Before coming here, the simple name Guadalajara ushered into my head waves of vibrant colour pulsing to mariachi music!  Which is odd because I so rarely have any particular expectations for a place.  But I arrived to Guadalajara`s downtown earlier today in a boring cab with a dull and impersonal driver, to a real `city-city` like all those before it – tall grey buildings, dust, traffic and grumpy people in a rush… nice cafes with well-groomed business people… hotels, motels, malls, and other various blah…

I felt annoyed and disappointed; and angry at myself for painting a glorified picture of this place I`d never been.  Why had everyone told me it would be so great?  Who had actually told me that?  I missed the beach!

I checked into my incredibly disorganised hostel (though with a very cool dude named Jesus (pronounced Hey-Sus) working desperately to put it back together with some sort of order – he quit a week after I left).  I stashed my stuff in the massive girls` dorm and was sufficiently creeped out by the fact that the entire hostel was dead SILENT, but apparently full of people.  I passed by a body every now and again – on a sofa, in the kitchen, and thought I saw one coming out of the washroom – but heard only plain silence.  I escaped to find food.

Disappointed with both my burrito and the busy, unexciting store-filled streets (nothing but massive stores for technological gadgets, banks, and taco restaurants), I returned to the hostel ready to grab my book for a night of reading at the cafe next door. 

More cafe-ing, reading, and aimless wander the next morning – I`d slept in and woke up to yet another day of silent hostel.  I considered switching to another, more… active?  noisy? normal? hostel…

BUT I was SO RELIEVED to return in the afternoon to find that a little life had sparked up in the kitchen and common room area! Cool hostel dude, Jesus was holding a beer, chatting up another dude about Lucha Libre (Méxican Wrestling most infamous in Guadalajara) – I jumped in and we all decided somehow to make it to a soccer game later in the week.  Many randoms with plastic cups were coming and going from the kitchen and the couches… and everyone was sharing their booze.  Where had these people been before?!  I dared not ask… and joined the party.

Over tacos and Cuba Libres we discovered that all of us – each and every one! – were travelling alone!  Some had been for a year, some for only a few months or weeks, with and without friends from home… but none had ever run into such a large group of lone travellers.  It`s actually quite rare.  We`d all been so flabbergasted by the onset of so many new names at once (with no pre-friends or family to overhear calling them) that we swiftly resorted to calling one another by our city names.  There was a San Fran, a Manchester, London, and a German (not sure how she ended up with the vaguer rendition of the name game)… a Vancouver, a Toronto (your truly)… and then there was Panties.  The latter was Swedish and swore that her city`s name did in fact did translate to `panties` in English.  So that was awesome!

We went out that night to a couple of bars in the area, and that was fun.  We had a good thing going with the group, for sure!  Very eclectic group, but somehow we fit very well. 

Jesus brought us to a Mezcal bar (all locals and us, THANK YOU Jesus, for being awesome and not afraid to surround yourself entirely with guaros!).  The other Canadian bartender and I bonded over our love of booze and good conversation; the German hung with us; our English comrades bonded over something like Marmite, Baked Beans, and terrible jokes; and the American tried to flirt by sparking a debate with the Canadians at every plausible opportunity (true fashion was born in California, American beer is stronger than in Canada, etc.).  Jesus danced up a storm with all of us, salsa style to Méxicos answer to house mixes.  Cool scene.  San Fran got annoyed with everyone eventually and stormed off on his own around 2 AM, against everyone`s best advice, in search of another dance club where he could maybe, quite possibly hook up.  He got back to the hostel a few hours later and told us poutingly over a beer or two that he`d been jumped and robbed.  Poor San Fran…

I, on the other hand, had a lovely wander back to the hostel with Jesus and Vancouver, ate tacos, and ran into someone I`d met in México City, on the street!  He said he was just vacationing for the weekend with friends.  I felt like I belonged already!

  So I`d had a little fun and explored the traditional `downtown` to the more `hip and trendy` bar-club` downtown, and met a bunch of young Guadalajarans who were pretty cool.  Just a regular, cosmopolitan city, with good-looking people, theft, good restaurants, organic whole wheat tortas (sandwiches, but my point is that whole wheat anything is rarity in México!), great shopping and a pretty nice little cafe culture in most of the centre. 

We`d only just brushed the surface of the nightlife scene, so I heard… apparently it`s incredible for locals.  But like my city, back home in Toronto, the best scenes are hard to find as a visitor. 

I was no longer negative, but curious, and anxious to crack the surface of this place… a city that didn`t seem to care if I liked it or not!