Not only was this trip a first in regards to altitude and trip duration, for me it was also my first time traveling solo out of the country to a real non-English speaking country (although I've been to Canada, England and Ireland, those really don't count - although the Irish can be hard to understand!). As a newcomer to Mexico, and having a Spanish vocabulary so limited as to barely get me through a Taco Bell, I definitely experienced my share of culture shock. Those of you who are veterans of international travel will have to bear with me here...

So, on Friday, November 5th I hopped a flight from Denver to Mexico City via Houston. Probably the most amusing aspect of the flight was how much fun the airline folks had going through my climbing gear ("and exactly what are 'crampons' used for, sir?") and how ugly most of the Houston airport is (yeah, okay...except for the new "E" Terminal). As we approached Mexico City, I craned my neck at the window to look around, and all I could see below was...brown. Mexico City has some of the worst air pollution of any metropolitan area in the world, and that was a factoid which hit home now and would continue to assert itself throughout the trip. We pulled up to our gate and when I exited the plane, I knew I was going to be in for a bit of trouble. The Alpine Ascents guide was scheduled to meet me at the airport, which I assumed had meant the gate. In talking to a (thankfully) English-speaking information agent, I found out that they have the same kinds of restrictions there that we do in the US - no non-passengers at the gates. So I would have to make my way to baggage claim and meet them there. Here's where my lack of Spanish kicked right in. I managed to get through the customs' area but went awry from there. After a long, long walk to baggage claim, I didn't see anything familiar in the way of airlines or flight numbers, and after finding another (thankfully) English-speaking information agent, I found out out that I was at domestic baggage claim, and needed to be at international baggage claim, which basically had me retracing my steps back towards my original gate. After a number of wrong turns (and I might have gone the wrong way through security once or twice), I finally found my huge army-green duffel and made my way out of baggage claim.

I was immediately flagged by a small group which turned out to be our Alpine Ascents guide, Eric, two of the other climbers who had flown in before me (Dale and Alex) and our two Mexican porters, Chava and Enrique (who's names I am probably misspelling, so my apologies). Chava immediately offered to take my unwieldy duffel for me, and we made our way to the parking garage and our transportation for most of the week, a huge Suburban. We weren't 5 seconds out of the parking garage when I realized that I was definitely in a different world. Across the street from the airport, there were rows upon rows of crammed-together and somewhat run-down apartment housing, many with laundry hanging on lines on the rooftops. During the hour drive from the airport to our hotel, I came to understand the extent of the phrase "crush of humanity". People lined the streets everywhere, spilling out onto the roadways. Every street corner and stoplight was occupied by vendors selling - anything. Fresh fruits, vegetables, car parts, novelty items, you name it. There were even people standing on speedbumps trying to sell whatever they could. The streets were mostly lined with tiny shops, barely the size of a cubicle, and crammed with whatever goods were being sold (I would find out later than the concept of the chain-store is mostly foreign down there). Public squares and parks were crammed with people.

It took me a while to notice all this however, because of the sheer terror of being in a moving vehicle in Mexico City. Driving definitely seems to be a survival sport down there. Lane markers and traffic signals are really more suggestions than rules, and the roads were just as packed as the sidewalks - mostly with small economy cars in various states of disrepair. Finally we made it to the downtown area and our hotel, the Hotel Fleming - what would be a 3-star-ish hotel here in the US. We pulled up to the front and began unpacking everyone's gear. The other two climbers on our trip (Gene and Owen) had come down the day before and met us schlepping gear into the lobby.

After a short break to check in and stow our gear, the next order of business was a quick meal in the hotel restaurant, where it was reinforced that you should ONLY order bottled water (never tap water). I quickly learned that "pollo" was the word for chicken, a fact which would serve me well in the next week. After a bite to eat, it was a walking tour of Mexico City in the twilight hours of the day. While it was a nice introduction to some of the history and architecture of Mexico, there was a dual-purpose to the tour - as an acclimatization hike. Mexico City sits at 7,000', and everyone on the trip was from a sea-level city (except me...Denver's at 5,000'). So we had a brisk walk amongst the teeming masses of Mexico City, visiting the Metropolitan Cathedral and several other historic buildings. I was still marveling at the crushing tide of people everywhere, and the hundreds of tiny shops lining every street, selling just about anything and everything.

After our walking tour, it was time for a late dinner and then most of us opted to turn in for the night - most of the group had a little sorting and organizing to do before we departed the next morning. I spied a couple pay computer terminals in the lobby, and spent a few minutes checking my email (I am compulsive, I admit it) and suprising my wife via instant messenger. After a short session of organizing my gear, it was time to get some sleep in anticipation of heading to our first climbing objective tomorrow morning.

On to Day 2...