“Welcome to Mexico City. There are 5 rules you most obey to make this a memorable visit for you. Uno: You will be at your hostel soon, because I drive fast. Muy fast. But you cannot make any Speedy Gonzales jokes. I mean this. The last man to break this rule lost a kidney. Dos: Any tequila you plan on drinking in the next 30 minutes must be shared with me. In fact, why don’t you just give me any tequila you have now, and I will tell you if it’s good or not. Tres: Do not get into a drinking competition with a Mexican. You will lose. Cuatro:  Learn in español the words for toilet (baños), more beer (más cerveza), and I like your moustache (Me gusta el bigote) –  and you will be fine. Cinco: Here is my card, don’t forget to call me when you need to go back to the airport.”

I’d been in the country for only 5 minutes, and knew straight away I was going to love it.

I could wax lyrical about Mexico City, but I’ll spare you an overuse of adjectives.  Vibrant is the best way to describe this place, the largest metropolitan area in the Americas, home to over 23 million people.

There are 16 districts or delegaciones that make up Mexico City, all built around the Centro Historico, home to the Zocalo – the 3^rd largest square in the world.

A few misconceptions that need to be cleared up;

Sure, it’s polluted. But what city this size isn’t? Mexico City sits in a plateau and as such gets smoggy. But it’s certainly livable and comparable to Los Angeles, and is much cleaner than Bangkok or any city in China. There was an incident in the 80’s where birds fell dead from the skies, but it seems the government took that as a warning and have since cleaned up their act, and the air.

You won’t get mugged. Well, probably not.  I found Mexican’s to be some of the nicest people I’ve ever had the fortune of meeting, and not once did I feel unsafe in Mexico City (There was one incident with a guy plying us with nachos and trying to sell us pot, He was agitated and kept looking outside the bar to where there were some policia conspicuously standing around, seemingly waiting to nab some Gringo’s for possession, so we politely declined. Good nachos though). As Chuck Thompson wrote in his book ‘To Hell Holes and Back’;

“Being stood up by Mad Max (to score coke) is the only outright act of discourtesy I experienced in Mexico City”

In fact, Mexico doesn’t even get a mention in the listverse.com Top 10 most dangerous places on earth, and Antarctica comes in at number 6. So there you go, safer than Antarctica. Obviously if you’re strolling around the districts of Tepito or Iztapalapa Sporting a Rolex or fiddling with your iPhone, you might have a different experience.

The food is awesome. Not once did I get sick of or from eating tamales, Quesadillas, Sopa de tortilla, taquitos or tacos. The only time I had a standing date with the porcelain in Mexico City was as after a sojourn in Havana. You know what’s good for Cuban food based tummy upsets? Tequila. Kills everything.

Mexican food is very meat based, but there’s still heaps of variety for a vegetarian, and if you’re a fishacrit (aquatarian, pescatarian etc) hit the coasts for a mean Pulpo Diablo. Still, I’d steer clear of the ‘Pesca del dia’ in Mexico city – the closest beach is 500km away.

The coolest thing about food in Mexico City? McDonald’s have self-service jalapeños.

A few things you can’t leave Mexico City without doing:

Witness the battle of the Mariachi Bands at Paza Garibaldi. Sit at a makeshift bar, downing margaritas and Negra medelo cervezas while being serenaded by some of the loudest singers you’ve ever heard, for a few pesos a song. Your ears will be ringing by the end of the night, but you might get asked to join in on a verse of La Cucaracha, guaranteed to be the most fun you’ve had in ages.

Stop by for a pot of tea at Frida Kahlo’s house. You can’t miss it, it’s the giant blue building with hundred’s of people queuing outside. Once you’re inside though, you don’t seem to notice the crowds as you idly walk through the rooms, checking out paintings, Diego Rivera’s murals, and the bed that Frida was confined to for over a year; right where she first started her self portraits while recovering from a horrific bus accident. It’s a beautiful house with a large courtyard that has been painstakingly restored and maintained as it was 60 years ago.  In the courtyard is a small café where you can grab a cup of tea and cake, served on plates emblazoned with Frida’s mono-browed image, along with a heap of other Frida y Diego memorabilia.

Drift down the Xochimilco floating markets. You know it’s going to be a great tour when your guide stops to pick up an esky full of corona’s. The Xochimilco floating market boats are painted in incredibly bright colours, the procession is very slow, with traffic congestion that borders on insanity, but hey, it’s not your problem. Take the opportunity to relax, drink a beer, and eat what ever is on offer from the old ladies that plow into the side of your boat.

Run up the Teotihuacán Pyramids. The 3^rd largest pyramid in the world is the Pyramid of the Sun, at Teotihuacán. A lot of people run up the steep steps of the pyramid, if only to get away from the touts at the base. Still, once you’re at the top (or as high as your guide will allow) it’s a breathtaking view. Once you have your breath back, it’s time for another dash through the maze of souvenir sellers along the calle de los muertos (street of the dead) to get to the Pyramid of the moon. Bring Ventolin.

Fill up on Mezcal. Or tequila for that matter. Infact, if you’re super adventurous there is a train that takes you from Guadalajara (the second largest town in Mexico) all the way to the town of Tequila, in the north. But I’m the sort of guy that would watch the tennis on TV instead of going to see it at the arena, so you can imagine I’d also subscribe to the  mantra of ‘fuck it, there’s perfectly good tequila, right here in Mexico City.’ I was not disappointed. A lot of bars I’d frequented in Centro Historico and Roma Condesa (two neighboring delegaciones known for art deco buildings, great restaurants and über grungy- cool drinking establishments) have over 130 types of Tequila and Mezcal, quickly resulting in a messy, and expensive night. (Rule of thumb, if the tequila bottle has the brand name plastered in gold, it’s most definitely more expensive than you can afford. It’s good to learn from past mistakes.)

I’ll be heading back to Mexico City in the new year. It’s such an exciting city to be in, the festivity of the city is palpable. So forget what you’ve heard. Just go. You won’t be disappointed. But maybe lay off the Speedy Gonzales jokes.

A last minute road trip I couldn’t refuse.

Jeff from Have Pack, Will Travel had a just over a week in Thailand, visiting the northern city of Chiang Mai – a place I hadn’t been to in my previous trips to Thailand.  He was gracious enough to invite me to tag along.

I rarely need an excuse to go overseas and this was no exception. While it would mean stretching all available leave options at my office job, it would afford me the chance to finally meet my travel writing boss and it’s hard to turn down a opportunity to eat some cheap and tasty Thai food.

I booked my tickets and we brainstormed a few activities to do, trying to fit in as much as we could in as little time as possible.  There’s always plenty to do in Thailand but our trip this time took on a purpose a bit different from the norm: we were going to motorbike from Chiang Mai to Pai – some 762 hairpin turns through the Mae Hong Son loop – one of the most scenic regions in the country.

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The first cool thing about Chiang Mai is that everyone seems pretty ok with you being there.  Not including the night bazaar, there were next to no touts trying to sell you treks, suits or prostitutes. In fact the whole lack of visible sex tourism was a welcome difference from some of the other well-known tourist haunts. People wanted to talk to us with no hidden agendas, and that’s a refreshing change to Bangkok and some of the places down south. Another cool thing about Chiang Mai is the food.  It’s spicy. You’d be right in guessing that the author of SanchezJalapeño is partial to a bit of chili, so the food was a bit of a highlight. It’s frustrating when you say you want something spicy but perhaps because you’re a farang you’re dished up a mild green curry, which has happened many a time. Not so in Chiang Mai.

The first stop for us a stroll through a few Wat’s, then dinner at the walking street market, which happens on Sunday nights.  Walking street however seemed to be a bit of an understatement as the fucking thing continues for miles. Blocks were sectioned off to house all the market stalls – everything from I heart Chiang Mai shirts, giant funky oil paintings, and dried fried insects.

Video © havepack.com

We planned an early night these things rarely go to plan and I spent a majority of the night drinking cheap scotch on the roof with an ever-rotating group of backpackers and my Australian friend Steve, who was along for the ride.

6am came and we groggily woke, showered and mounted our beasts – 3 automatic 100cc scooters which were to be our chariots for the trip to Pai.

The outskirts of Chiang Mai is an amazing place to be early in the morning. We passed songthaew’s crammed full of school kids waiving at us and Monks holding out their alms bowls collecting rice from the people on their way to work.  It’s probably an hour on the main road out of town before you reach the turn off to Pai.  Immediately the scenery changed, and the temperature dropped about 5 degrees. We stopped for breakfast at a small little café situated at the first of the 762 turns to come. After a breakfast of champions (or plain omelette and coffee, depends what your perspective is on such matters) we rode for a while before coming across a dirt path with a sign for waterfalls. We followed it 6km down an eroded dirt track, climbing little hills (no small feat considering we were on automatic scooters) finally arriving at a less than spectacular waterfall. But hey, the trip was good and I got the opportunity to place with a mangy dog I called bush puppy and take a photo of a scarecrow/laundry day.

Back on the main road we drove for a few hours before stopping for lunch.

I ordered the Tom Yum, then realized just how far we were from the ocean – my prawns were hardly going to be the catch of the day. Oh well, it still tasted pretty good and my chili quota for the day was met. We found another side road that led to a geyser so we followed it, almost crashing into a family of elephants being walked up the road.

Video © havepack.com

It was this encounter that reaffirmed my love for travelling (not that it had ever really waivered) – To see these awesome animals being walked up a road at least 20 kilometers from civilization, their owners waiving at us and smiling for photos. The bush puppy that earlier had come bolting up to me, almost making me fall over the top of my bike. I was getting sad that the purpose of my trip here to Thailand was halfway through, the realization that I’d soon be back in my cubical set in. But still, can’t go around forever with that frame of mind so I snapped out of it and  we continued riding, Pai being only a few hours away.

The trip takes a lot longer than you think it will. Any traveller who says they can do it in less than 2 hours is a dirty liar. A local guy we met later that night said he did the same trip, does it every week and it takes him 3 hours. But no matter how long people say it takes them, all agree that the hardest and most complicated part of the ride is the last hour; basically a freefall decent down hairpin turns on the side of a giant cliff – made all the more difficult due to my lake of fuel, but luckily I could turn the bike off and coast most of the way down the mountain.

Before I knew it (well, in fairness 8 and a half hours after we left Chiang Mai) we were cruising into Pai – A small hippy town with a surprisingly large Muslim population set on the bank of the Mekong Pai river, near the Myanmar border. The town is a good base for exploring through some of the Hill Tribes, hot springs and elephant camps, but mainly survives on tourism, with Farang’s counting for most of the visitors until the release of two Thai romantic movies set in Pai (they do love their sappy romance movies) which has resulting in a huge swing in domestic tourist numbers.

Riverside Bungalow in Pai

We spent a few days in Pai, writing notes and checking out the town before we started to think about how to get back to Chiang Mai. We thoroughly enjoyed our epic trip here, but the prospect of doing it all over again wasn’t exactly high on our agenda. So we flew. Nok Mini flies a 12 seater plane daily from Pai to Chiang Mai for about $60 –which was was worth it just for the amazing views over Mae Hong Son, an added bonus being that the flight took 25 minutes.

If you are considering doing the same trip, here’s a few tips:

• Aya are the only company I could find that offer one way motorcycle rentals between Chaing Mai and Pai. At 120 baht they are incredibly cheap but the bikes were well looked after and services.

• Consider getting a GT rider map of the Mae Hong Son loop. It features detailed topography, dirt roads and suggested itineraries.

• Get travel insurance. The last thing you want is a hospital bill that  is $10,000+ just because of a motorbike accident.

• If you can, leave enough time to see some of the hill tribes, and continue onwards past Pai on the Mae Hong Son loop, I hear amazing things about Cave Lodge and can’t wait to explore there in early 2011.

Follow Shane on Twitter, read his posts at Havepack, or catch up on his travels here.

“Welcome to Sarajevo. My name is Kovacs and I will be your adopted Papa. I reek of charisma, you know.”

- He wasn’t kidding. More charming than anyone I’ve met before, Kovacs introduced himself to us while we were exploring the Baščaršija – the Turkish quarter of Sarajevo, following our noses around alleyways into pastry shops selling Burek and tiny cafes brewing Bosnian coffee. I was in love with Sarajevo and had been devising business plans in my head, ready to write to my mother telling her I wasn’t coming home, when I was brought back to planet earth by the sight of this tiny man, waving at us and dancing in the street.

We spent 10 minutes (or was it 20?) standing in the middle of the street talking to this interesting man about his life (born in Turkey, lived around the world and had been working in Sarajevo as a waiter for 3 years), the languages he can speak (10, thanks for asking) and would his boss mind if he snuck off for a beer? (“Fuck the boss, lets drink”).

Kovacs led us through the maze of the Baščaršija, past men in workshops belting metal into shape, women chatting in the drizzling rain outside of silk shops and teenagers sipping coffee on tiny stools in hole-in-the-wall coffee shops, until we arrived at the ‘Balkan café’ – a funky bar/live music venue that later that night would be hosting an evening of jazz meets Sevda (local Bosnian music – a bit Soviet, a bit Middle Eastern, very cool). We sat down and ordered some beers. Kovacs explained how he understood his religion “Mine is heart. We’re all people, so just love with your heart”. He then belted out a few acapella versions of some blues songs – he’s a singer and guitarist – much to the dismay of the über cool crown that came to hear the jazz band upstairs. He promised to serenade us if we came to his restaurant the following night. We sipped šljivovica (local brandy) from the mini flask around his neck – a gift from a travelling Scottish lady who though he was hilarious (modest, he is not).

Kovacs was prone to going off on a tangent, which made it hard to follow what he was talking about; I gave up the notion of taking notes. Instead, we drank beer and laughed. Soon after he ran off to work hoping to get back there before his boss noticed he was gone, and we stayed at the Balkan café and chatted with the owner- he introduced himself to us when he noticed we were admiring the cool artwork on the wall. The café had only been open for a month, but it was packed with alternative 20 something’s sporting wild, unkempt hair and dressed in black turtleneck tops.

All we need is šljivovica

We watched the first band take the stage in the upstairs smoke filled room, they played a mix of songs, some big band hits from the 20’s and 30’s mixed and then some slow jazz versions of more popular songs like Radiohead’s Creep. Before I realised it was after midnight so we retired to the hotel, there was a lot of sight seeing to do the next day.

Some beautiful Mosque’s can be found in the Baščaršija. I sat in a café adjacent the biggest Mosque in Bosnia, and listened to the call to prayer, which was just as breathtaking as the ones, I’ve heard in Turkey and Malaysia. Sarajevo is a melting pot of religions; there are Mosques, churches and synagogues around every corner. I spent the remainder of that day walking around the city, with a stray but happy dog following me around. That night we went to see Covaks at the restaurant, where true to his word, he serenaded us while we sipped red wine and ate trout and grilled veggies drowned in olive oil. A midnight drink at the Balkan Café followed, the crown danced and couples kissed in the dark corners and I wished I could stay longer. All good things come to an end I guess, but I hope that’s not true. I’ll be back soon to find out.