Kate and I are heading back home after getting in some serious miles on the 1968 Olympic rowing course in Mexico City this past week. It's been an interesting physical and cultural experience. This city sits at 8,000 feet and the altitude is rough on the lungs and spirit; you're breathing harder than normal and still seeing slower splits on the GPS.
La comida
La Casa de Botes
Unlike a lot of the places we travel to (read: most of Europe), only one person we've talked to here speaks English. We've had to dig deep into our memory of middle and high school Spanish classes to communicate the simplest things. Our Spanish teachers would be appalled with our accents (or lack thereof) and all the words we've forgotten (how do you say breakfast again?), but hey, we're getting by.
One of the biggest celebrations in Mexico is the day of the Virgin of Guadalupe, which happened earlier this week. Millions of people made the pilgrimage to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, a famous church in Mexico City. We were too busy training to see any of this, but did hear fireworks going off all day long. I mean all. day. long. And all night long. I began to wonder if there would be any fireworks left in Mexico after the holiday. These people know how to celebrate.
¡Hasta luego!
