Since my last post I’ve been busy. A winter in South America and now back to the UK, ready to start the Euro-jaunt season. Thinner, wiser, browner and more dashingly handsome than ever.
My goal had been to find a winter bolt-hole, somewhere I could bugger off to each year in November and return from in late February, having simply bypassed all those wasted months of life, huddled inside a heated house as the rain and gales lash the cold, windy streets outside. As most men over 35 have realised, time is their greatest commodity. Staying in the UK over winter effectively wastes 25% of your life, every year. As I sauntered the sunny streets of South America, and later Singapore, sitting outside in the blazing sun and drinking coffee, I looked at text messages from my family complaining of gales and snow and I just thought “why?”.
South America was on the slates again, after my previous foray to Argentina, because of the same basic reasons:
-possibly as weird and interesting as Asia
-women are passable as white women, more or less, so are hotter and feel like less of a compromise than Asian women
Where to go? I’d tried Argentina last year and wasn’t inspired enough by it to return. Hysterical children waving their hands about in their chaotic and retarded country, with beautiful, manipulative women, so asexual you’d think they’d all had cliterodectomies at birth…. no thanks. Chile, Peru, Bolivia, all those sounded a bit grubby and pokey. Jesus, what if there was no Starbucks? Central America… too squalid and dangerous. Sitting on a bus with peasants and chickens is to me no longer ‘fun’. I’d try the two most obvious ones: Mexico and Colombia. At least if they were good then I could focus on learning Spanish and use it in two countries. Brazil? Expensive, squalid and dangerous, and I’d heard that the women are nowhere near as hot as you’d expect.
First stop was Mexico City, and I arrived at the end of last November. The plan was simple. First, do my usual trick and join a boxing gym. This provides structure to the week and stops any “what am I doing?” midnight wig-outs brought on by too much money and too little responsibility. On top of this I’d learn some Spanish and then chase some local birds.
Things went swimmingly. I found an old-school local boxing gym and started training there every day or so (thanks, TrT). With my pattern broken, I went cold turkey off caffeine (which for me, due to issues with my receptors, is quite a big deal) and after an initial 5 day period of bleak depression soon became happier and more stable. Even better, my friend DesiTornado had foolishly taken my advice at an inner-game consult I’d done for him and was sojourning for the winter season in South America. He’d already banged two girls (I take all credit) and was a great tonic for me, his relentless positivity fighting against my forays into cynicism.
I was in Mexico City for about five weeks. Let me categorize and give you my thoughts on a few things, and then I’ll finish up by talking about game and chicks (but not too deep, as I’ll milk that for more blog posts!).
It’s not dangerous. In five weeks there I didn’t witness a single crime. Police are everywhere. There are no drugs, gangs or shifty men in suits. Nada. I felt significantly safer than in London. The subway is safe. You can take Uber everywhere. The Mexicans are less genetically prone to everyday aggression than the Anglo Saxons (with disclaimers). Of course, let’s not forget I was living in a bubble. I didn’t venture out of Mexico City and I’ve heard that it’s not long before it all turns to shit. Even more, I was living in a bubble within a bubble, lodging in the middle class La Condessa area. Fuck ‘slumming it’.
I like Mexicans. In general I found them warm, friendly, trusting and welcoming. Even in a touristy suburb and working in crappy jobs, such as runnig a taco stand, they still smiled, took care to say hello and were genuine. Mexicans have a genuine interest in others.
Taco stands are everywhere: I think they are to Mexico what pubs were to England. I suspect there are a multitude of cultural aphorisms along the lines of “I heard it at the taco stand”. Indeed, Mexicans LOVE tacos. The stands are crowded with people holding tiny plates up to their mouths and delicately, artfully, eating tacos with their hands. There’s a real skill and art to this, and how they liked to chuckle as my taco fell apart onto my face. Sadly, once can’t eat at taco stands for long; the white intestinal tract cannot take it. Once you take out Tacos, the national cuisine seems to be pizza.
Sitting down at any stand I barely needed to bumble through a sentence of retard-Spanish before total strangers were introducing themselves, welcoming me and assisting me in ordering. SEVERAL times total strangers insisted on paying for my lunch for me simply “to welcome me to Mexico”.
In shops and restaurants it was similar. I think that Mexicans just don’t really take work that seriously. They have a laconic rthym which is almost unshakeable. Mexicans just don’t have the gnawing sense of panic and low self-esteem that the British do, which makes them (the British) bust their guts at work. The Mexican exists in a network which the Brit does not: the family. A Mexican has dozens of friends and a large, extended family to call on in any circumstance. Gossip, television, babies, grandparents, Jesus and napping play a far larger important than they do to the average Westerner.
Sure, I’m not completely misty-eyed. In the crowded downtown area there were plenty of hustlers and shifty types, but that was the only place I saw them.
In every airbnb place I stayed the hosts were effusively welcoming and brought me into their social circle. They were just interested in a way that jaded and skeptical Europeans rarely are. The sad thing is that I see with their trusting, warm natures and er, laconic, attitude how easy it would be for a bunch of Spaniards or whities with muskets and rage to simply butcher them all by the drove.
After my time in Mexico I’d rate Mexican girls as ‘high interest’ on the personality side for dateability. Also, if I was socializing and met Mexicans, I’d make more of an effort with them than other nationalities, as I’m now more interested in having them as friends and see that they are a race with which genuine connection is possible.
Mexico City is apparently very big, but doesn’t feel remotely as big as London. It has a decent Metro system and shitty roads, clogged solid with the Mexicans’ obsession with car ownership. It’s fairly Western, with millions of Starbucks, cafes, restaurants, ATMs banks and shops. Everything you want, really. However, it just looks scruffier than most European cities. The classic, beautiful, colonial architecture of the city is left to degrade and ruin; the Mexicans don’t seem capable of maintaining it. In fact, the Mexicans don’t seem capable of really that much in terms of efficient government or logistics. More than once, more than once a day really, I was left with the eerie feeling I was watching little brown Aztecs playing round in the trappings left behind by a more advanced civilization. I went for the day to Teotihuacan, an ancient and fantastical city built around two pyramids. The Mexican daytrippers wandered about, scrambling and trampling over everything, blowing bird whistles to endlessly amuse themselves, then sitting on priceless ruins to stuff their faces with yet more tacos. Obvlivious, disinterested. Mexico struggles with the same problems that most countries in South America do: when anyone gets power they become corrupt, and few people can organize or execute things efficiently.
After five weeks in Mexico City I started to feel something I didn’t expect: boredom. There’s just not that much to actually do. The nice bit is small, the food is monotonous and there’s not much culture. There aren’t even any nice malls to walk around. Most of the city has a grubbiness that makes it not worth walking round. More street markets? More taco stands?
I thought that going to the USA to work would be a common thread amongst the Mexicans. It’s not. I hung out with a lot of middle class Mexicans and it was barely mentioned. Mexicans look for jobs in Mexico, then complain about them. The same goes for the less well off Mexicans. It seems that most people going to America are either a) placed there by their company, and have a good job b) are looking for a get-rich-quick scheme. I saw the same phenomena in China. Leaving Asia to work in the West is rarely considered as an option for middle class Chinese. Why? Because without crippling UK socialism they can have a better standard of living in China. Generally the only people who go abroad are from the shifty groups of the lower class, lured by *other Chinese people* into various get rich quick abroad schemes.
The problem with Mexico is quality. Outside of middle class urbanized areas the majority of people are short, brown, squat Mayans. They have bulldog necks and nearly all have stovepipe torsos with little bellies. The only really hot girls you’ll see are middle class and in middle class areas, and as a ratio of the population this is tiny. Walking round downtown Mexico city the standard of totty is far, far below that of a city like London, and seismically below that of Eastern Europe. Even in a posh, middle class area, you are lucky to see a couple of HB8’s in a single day. When I stayed in Zagreb I remember once going to the corner shop to buy a bottle of milk and counting NINE HB8’s on the way.
Mexico is where you come if you have low standards and want to bang a lot of 6’s from Tinder.
Daygame in Mexico is difficult, entirely due to the above reason. Even sniping at adhoc sets, you can still struggle to get any volume of girls to approach. When you finally do find one, two thirds won’t speak good enough English to make the interaction work. When one does, however, it will usually go pretty well. The hottest girl I’ve ever stopped was in La Condessa, a 21 year old stunning model, and she showed genuine interest. Sadly it died on the text exchange.
Mexico City is a city where people don’t really walk much. Mexicans seem to want to ape the americans. Anyone who can afford to gets a car and then drives everywhere. There is no culture of perambulation. There are no real areas of shops around which one walks. You drive to location X, then to Y, then to Z.
We tried Universities but the problem there is social pressure. Mexicans are far more involved with and concerned about their peer group than Europeans. Most people on campuses walk round in groups. Sounds odd but I’m serious: you literally get less people walking round on their own than in the west. At any point we stopped a girl she was immediately worried about what others would think.
By the time I arrived DesiTornado had already clacked two senioritas. One, he shamefacedly admitted, was a “Tinder fattie”, which he’d done to ‘warm up’. The second was a HB8, 23yo genuine hotty, done from blind luck and hostel game. I decided I really needed to “oil the wheels” on the holiday and get laid fast, so I’d fuck myself a Tinder Hog as well. Hopefully, once I’d stuck it in a hog, the worry about not getting laid at all would subside and I could relax a bit.
Coming up next: Tinder Hog-Farming
Coming up soon: Colombia, Singapore, Lay reports