The Only Picture I took in Guadalajara. Sometimes places just won`t come out in photos... and sometimes the best times can`t be `graphed.

Over the next few days, the other lonestar travellers and I tended to have our breakfasts together, and spend our days separate, before coming together again in the late afternoons or evenings for a much belated cocktail hour at the hostel before heading out for the night. 

Separately, we wandered the city`s sights and parks, scoured the streets for cheap shoes (zapaterias are HUGE here in Guadalajara), and took it easy in the plazas, parks and cafes so invitingly placed on every corner in this place.  True anonymous city life.  

It grew on me a bit – this, Guadalajara.  This cities` city was jammed packed with culture – only a culture slightly different, and if I may say more real, than I had so dreamingly expected.  Despite of all it lacked in impressing its visitors, it seemed like a great place to live!  

There were no grand avenues teeming with some sort of signature Guadalajaran style, as one might find in New York, Paris or Sydney Australia… no real presence, to remind you gallantly that you are in Guadalajara.  It was just a real, and from what I can tell really great place to live and breathe for its residents.  I sympathized – tourists so rarely grow to love, and/or rave about my glorious city.  Toronto too is a place that is seemingly far more awesome for its residents than its visitors… at least at first touristic glance. 

Like organisms, cities have a way of evolving organically to suit what they need: to meet the needs of its people, based on the most relevant cultural and physical demands.  Sometimes these needs don`t translate for foreigners, or rather, into expensive and memorable skyscrapers. 

  For the most part, the world`s most interesting cities are usually far removed from ocean coasts, jungles, mountains, and other beautiful scenery.  Their creativity is turned inward, and it`s the people that make it great.  For example, the majority of people in Vancouver spend their days outdoors, biking, hiking, skiing, boating and boarding, while the remainder of the population watches or enjoys the scenery.  And thus, the laid back Western Canadian culture was born.  On the other hand, cities like New York, Toronto, México City, London, and Paris, devoid of any real natural adventure (I will not count the amazing parks in these places, which were clearly added out of desperation) have become incredible cultural havens with endless options and vast arrays of diverse counter-cultures – there for everyone to see! 

Guadalajara was no different!  The more I explored, the more I became immersed in it!  It`s shell was hard to crack, but México`s second largest city was most definitely a place worth delving into. 

I walked just about eight blocks or so East of my hostel (and the ugly, nondescript streets that surrounded it) to find the infamous Plaza Mariachi.   What I found was nothing more than a bunch of glittery men (seemingly off-duty, but not) dressed up in authentically tight pants, and carrying instruments… standing on a street corner.  They yelled to passers by every now and again (who I cannot imagine would ever in fact stop on this street corner to pay these men for mariachi serenades…), but for the most part, seemed to just stand around in groups watching, like old Italian men.  I thought I`d gotten it wrong, but NOPE – this was Plaza Mariachi.  Weird. 

Near there… I stumbled upon what may be the world`s largest market (well, likely not, but the biggest I`ve seen for sure… more on that later): Mercado Libertad.  It was massive, bordering on grotesque, and bustling.  It had everything from pets to meat slabs to souvenirs… all jumbled together, with no easily deciferable plan.  Men working the stalls yelled out musical chants about their goods and prices, in the typically Méxican  way of street advertising.  Fish vendors and ceviche stalls lined the isles behind the bulk fruit stands, and to-be-pet birds screeched bloody murder from their cages next to that.  The sounds and aromas were almost too overwhelming!  

Children played in the Market`s central square, and people ate on steps all around it.  The food was incredible.  I passed by a stand selling the original Nintendo system with duck-hunt and I felt very much at home.  A little girl in the center picked up a dead pigeon by its wing and swung it around for the other children to see… before realizing this was not a great idea (no one had been impressed).  She abruptly dropped it into a feathered pile near the garbage bin. 

Just outside, and on the way back East-ish to my hostel, I stumbled upon a maze of pedestrian avenues – some with fountains running down the center, some with boulevards of plants or buskers; all with many tiny shops for shoes and clothing.  

I was somehow eventually swept into a Jenga-like formation of large colonial plazas, packed with public buildings and theatres (including the famous Teatro Degollado), all teeming with Guadalajarans just lounging around, enjoying their afternoons alone, as families or in groups of friends.  The atmosphere was laid back, and very… happy!  A horse and carriage carrying a young Méxican family passed me by. 

The corner of each plaza seemed to lead into the next.  The grand old buildings, the people surrounding them, and the way it all lit up in the light was simple, but very special.  It was one of those places where, even when on your way home from work in your hometown, you can look up at bright-eyed, and be surprisingly pleased to be there each and every time.  

Every once in a while there was a group of musicians or mimes performing for groups of onlookers.  There were not a lot of tourists.  People sat together everywhere without chatting – some read, some watched, some laughed together or got up to walk around – a true city vibe.  I loved it! 

Into the night, coloured lights turned on to light up the cities nicest old streets and architecture.  Public art (mostly modern sculptures and flags) was scattered around a little bit, as if to reassure the rest of us of the city`s creative inclings:  “We`re a young, interesting AND cool city!“.  

This is the only city in México I`ve seen with so many bike ramps (AND on Sundays, many downtown streets are closed to cars to allow only bike traffic… mostly families… and pedestrians).  Things like this remind me of the more `forward` artistic, 2nd-tier cities I`ve been to… San Fransisco, Vancouver, Melbourne, and parts of even Calgary and Frankfurt.  

It definitely felt more slow-paced here, and just slightly nicer to be in than México City – if even a little less exciting.  A good place to live.  Then I came to understand the pride Guadalajarans were infected with when they so often claimed theirs was the most Méxican city; true or not  (what is true Méxican anyway?), theirs was a place that, though kept mostly for themselves, was worth having a strong and unconditional love for.  

I felt as though most people who really loved it grew up here.  Not because it wasn`t good enough to move to, but because Guadalajarans had, over the years, created a sense of place that was strongly unique to them… and tough for outsiders to penetrate fully.  At least enough as to be welcomed into forever. 

Verdict?  It seems to me that downtown Guad lacks the grittiness and true dirt of big cities like Méx City, Paris or Berlin, in favour of a more livable cultural atmosphere.  Besides, it is in fact smaller than these other places, especially in terms of a downtown.  The fact remains, however, that there is still a lot to explore… 

and who knows, maybe I`m missing something.