A day off.
Today I stumbled out of bed at 7.30am with a quick call to the fiancé back in England. I jumped into the shower and out excited for my “descansa” – today and tomorrow free (Monday bank holiday – get in)!
I decided late last night that I wanted to go to Puebla. To stay in a hostel and get drunk!
I packed up a spare pair of shorts, wandered downstairs in search if a coffee and a croissant.
Peering down a quiet side street I saw some tables and chairs. I found the sweetest little patisserie – about 10 ft x 10 ft with a little Mexican man whipping up completely amazingly delicious pastries! I ordered a coffee and a croissant and I was in heaven. Possibly the best croissant of my life. Crunchy with big butter flavour and perfect not-to-gooey / not-too-dry layers. YUM! I now know where I’m going every Sunday, Fournier Rousseau.
I the hopped in an Uber to the rather dodgy Mexico City bus terminal only to discover that the 10am bus I wanted was fully booked. I ran around, found another bus and jumped on. I wedged myself between a few quite sleepy dudes and settled in for the journey.
Arriving in Puebla, I went straight to the hostel. Located in an old colonial building. I tried and failed to negotiate a better rate and the I left to the explore the city and it’s many shops – winding up in a little antiques market admiring wares. Sometimes I find myself wanting to shout “voy!” at strangers that get in my way on the little streets…. like I’m in the kitchen.
I then scooted on to a yummy little cemita shop that Dara recomended and got mildly pissed on two amazing clamatos. These clamatos were light cocktails with an amazing cilantro/coriander finish. The confit duck cemita sandwich was delicious as well as the shrimp tacos. Although their criollo ain’t got nothing on The Restaurants beauties.
I headed back to the hostel to try and meet some drinking mates and found 3 hungover 20 year olds.
I’m now sitting in a very spenny, beautiful hotel (Rosewood) – cocktail in hand, watching the sun set behind swanning palm trees, the colonial bell towers and the smoke spewing volcano of Puebla. What a stunning view and a perfectly relaxing day.
Finally a day when nothing hurts – not my feet or my lime squeezing arm or my burns or my cuts.
Later I returned to the hostel – found my hungover friends and dragged them out for some mediocre tacos. I ditched them to try to find a bar but failed and bought some tasty churros instead.
As I lay in my hostel’s bottom bunk wearing my NightHood and looking like a fruitloop, this has been a good day.