One of my favorite places in Mexico City is La Lagunilla, a fifty-year-old market close to Plaza Garibaldi and Tepito. Lagunilla means “little lagoon”, a clear reference to the pool from which vendors of the Tlatelolco market transported their goods before the arrival of the Spaniards.

The lagoon was dried, as well as the rest of the water that surrounded the ancient Tenochtitlan. New houses for wealthy Spaniards transformed the area, until 1833, when a cholera epidemic killed the dwellers or made them flee away. Poor people took over the empty houses, while commercial activities flourished. At the turn of the twentieth century, the local government built a new market that supplied close colonias such as Santa María La Ribera and Guerrero, attracting more vendors and more buyers, giving the neighborhood the buzzing flair that it still has.

Tourist guides recommend to go to La Lagunilla on Sundays, when the antiques market settles along Comonfort street. There, you can find all sorts of old objects, ranging from vintage clothes and furniture to used coca-cola bottles, vinyls, and old dolls. An experience that I can only describe as a dive in the craze of the lost-and-found of a huge, messy city. This part of the market has shrunk over the years, to cede some space to the a new generation of vendors whose merchandise range from goth or hippie clothes, bootleg music and videos (you can find artsy movies here), and t-shirts, to art craft, books, all kind of tchotchkes, and food.

Even though in Mexico  it’s illegal to drink on the streets, it is normal to see vendors pulling a cart containing the necessary ingredients to sell beer in the shape of micheladas here. So, don’t miss the opportunity to drink while you wander around…

But more interestingly, La Lagunilla is also a group of buildings that held markets that open on weekdays. There, you can find the traditional vestidos de novia, primera comunión, and quince años–which are the equivalent to the “sweet sixteen ” in the U.S.–a paradise for celebration itself.

An unforgettable reference of this market is the 80′s movie Lagunilla Mi Barrio, a story about  a man (Manolo Fábregas) who losses his job and tries to start all over as a antique dealer in La Lagunilla, where he  finds true friendship, and love. If you really are into Mexican pop culture, the movie is full of Mexican stars, and it has a second part dated on 1982, Lagunilla Mi Barrio 2.

La Lagunilla antiques market, Sundays from 10 to 4, Comonfort St. Lagunilla subway station. You can also get there from Reforma Av., right on front of the Cuitláhuac statue. The rest of the market is open everyday, except Tuesdays, on the same schedule.

The Xochimilco canals are hardly an undiscovered secret in Mexico City; they are described in all the handbooks as a worthwhile destination for tourists and chilangos alike. Rightfully so. The afternoon I spent there for a friend’s birthday was one of the nicest I’ve ever had in Mexico City.

Lake Xochimilco was the breadbasket of Tenochtitlan. The canals that exist today were formed by chinampería, a method of farming developed by the Xochimilcas during the 12th through 14th centuries. Chinampas, often called “floating gardens”, were a way around the challenges faced by farmers in the Valley of Mexico (such as poor soil, irregular rainfall, and occasional frosts) because they allowed farming to take place literally on top of the lake. Created by staking off shallow areas of Lake Xochimilco and enclosing these areas with reeds or canes, these areas were then filled up with mud, silt, and dead plants until the chinampa rose about a meter out of the water. Because of the flow of water around the chinampas, the crops were easily irrigated and maintained.

Although there is still farming taking place in Xochimilco, the main draw is the canals, where you can rent a trajinera (boat) to take you on a slow, floating tour of what is left of the canal system. The trajineras are colorfully painted, covered boats, propelled by a boatsman pushing a stick against the floor of the canals. Each trajinera is named after a woman. They range in size to accomodate whatever group you bring, from a couple of people up to a group of 20. Rates are supposedly uniform, but be sure to set a price before you leave the embarcadero, and remember to tip the boatsman for good service.

I had read about Xochimilco in the guidebooks for about a year before I finally made the trip. I went with a group of gays and lesbians in order to celebrate my friend’s birthday. I have to admit, I don’t know if it would have been as much fun if I wasn’t in such good company. For our large group we got the largest size trajinera, for approximately 200 pesos per hour. Split between a bunch of people, it was well worth the cost.

Our boatsman made a special point of selling us a bucket of beer on ice before we left the embarcadero, and we bought, not knowing that anything we needed would be available to us on the water as well (for a slightly higher price). Indeed, we had not pushed off more than five minutes earlier when a girl making massive micheladas in paper cups paddled up to our boat and latched onto the side of it so her hands were free to play bartender. She was only the beginning: souvenirs, esquites, beer, botanas, dulces, flowers, tacos–all of them were available for purchase, sold by floating vendors that aggressively paddled after boats full of potential customers.

Micheladas on the go:

Manzanas acarameladas:

In addition to being able to purchase food, drinks, and recuerdos, there are also many floating bands available for hire, the most popular styles being mariachi and marimba. The boats carrying the musicians (including their large percussion instruments) can attach to your boat and provide you with music for your floating party. Rates are per song.

This video gives the viewer a sense of the pace of the Xochimilco canals. Please note the marimba band floating by on another boat.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_mVkyB7sIM]

The longer you spend on a trajinera, the further away from the touristy areas you can get. It is possible to tour the parts of Xochimilco where people live, where farming is still going on, and where there is more wildlife. To get deep into the remote sections of the canals, expect to lease the boat for at least three hours (accounting for the return trip to the embarcadero). On that note, please be aware that although the boats do not have bathrooms on them, there are several locations along the way where, for a few pesos, you can use the bathroom. (Note: some do not have soap or running water.)

If you are nervous about being affectionate with a girlfriend or otherwise being visibly “out” in front of the boatsman, I recommend, if your Spanish allows, simply being upfront about your needs as you negociate a price. There are many boatsmen competing for your business, and there are certainly those who will have no problem taking gays and lesbians on their boats.

The two main launches, Embarcadero Caltonga and Embarcadero Nativitas, are both a short walk from the center of the town of Xochimilco, which is nice to explore, and boasts a large and beautiful 16th century church, Parroquia de San Bernardino de Siena. I recommend going by taxi (to save time and energy), but for those who prefer public transportation, you can get to Xochimilco by taking the tren lijero to the Embarcadero Station. Other sights in the area include the Xochimilco flower market and the Parque Ecológico de Xochimilco which hosts a museum dedicated to the history (both natural and cultural) of the area.

Xochimilco is worth visiting if you are spending more than a few days in Mexico City. (If you are just in town for the weekend, the location, which takes a while to get to, makes it less attractive than other more central sights.) Although I enjoyed the energy that came from visiting the canals with a large and festive group, my sense is that a day at Xochimilco can just as easily be slow and romantic, perfect, say, for two couples on a double date. So relax, macha, rent a boat, get a little drunk, enjoy the music, and enjoy the ride.

After a friend decided to lend us her car for a few days, we decided to take a road trip to Acapulco. I wanted to spend a day or two indulging in the antique glamour of the jet-set 60′s I associated with the city, and then take a drive down the coast of Guerrero. I had heard there were places a few hours south of the city where, for a few pesos, you could sleep in a palapa on the beach and buy your meals from passing fishermen, eager to sell you part of that morning’s catch.

One day in Acapulco proved enough time to see the cliff divers at La Quebrada and explore Acapulco Viejo, the quaint neighborhood surrounding the Zócalo on the western side of the bay. We avoided the Cancun-esque neighborhoods further east, which are full of nightclubs (some gay) and chain restaurants like Planet Hollywood and Señor Frog’s.

The Xanadu I had hoped we would encounter a few hours south of the city never materialized. Instead we found a dirty stretch of sand and palapas that we affectionately referred to as “Bladerunner Beach.” There, quatrimotos (ATVs) driven by ten-year-olds criss-crossed the beach at high speeds while leering men attempted to sell us rides on the skeletal horses they dragged behind them. The ocean water was brown from the sand that had been stirred up by the rough surf and much warmer than this Northern California native was used to.

We decided to bid farewell to Bladerunner Beach and instead of pressing further south in search of an idyllic strip of beach we did not even know the name of, we headed back up the highway, to Pie de la Cuesta, an isthmus just north of Acapulco. A lesbian couple we knew had just come back from spending a week there, and had recommended it as an alternative to the garbage-strewn beaches of Acapulco.

To get a room, I suppose one could make reservations, but we just drove up and down the single road that runs parallel to the ocean and inquired about prices and accommodations at places that looked nice. Most hotels offer swimming pools and beach access in sparse rooms with fans (and no air conditioning). Prices ran between 250 and 400 pesos per night. Our hotel, the courtyard of which is pictured below, was no exception, and was either called Quinta Blanca or Quinta Azul. There is also an RV park.

The main pastime at Pie de la Cuesta is lounging under palapas on the beach, where you must pay a minimal fee for use of the shade and hammocks. Food and drinks can be ordered directly to the beach. Vendors walk up and down the beach in the hot sun selling snacks, trinkets, and jewelry. A walk down the beach in either direction will reveal abandoned buildings as well as more upscale hotels. According to locals, it is not safe to walk along the beach at night.

(If you are in your twenties, expect to hear occasional murmurs of “coca… mota… coca… mota…” ["cocaine... pot..."] from passing vendors. The state of Guerrero is a center for drug trafficking, and merchandise on its way to the US has trickled down to locals and beach-going tourists. I cannot speak to the quality or safety of these transactions if you choose to buy.)

If you get bored of the beach, it is possible to take a boat up the river where there are many little restaurants of varying quality. Ask about getting a mud treatment at a site along the banks. Supposedly, Juan Gabriel swears by it.

The highpoint of our trip to Pie de la Cuesta was unexpected. We found ourselves famished after nine one rainy evening and walked down the road to the nearest open restaurant. We were the only customers at Restaurant Maryfer (alternately spelled Marifer on the menu) although it was hard to tell who was the wait staff and who was just hanging out in this modest restaurant. A faggy teen with frosted tips took our order and headed back to the kitchen. A door in the restaurant led to an adjoining apartment from which a big, butch lesbian would emerge every few minutes, usually in patient pursuit of a small child. We saw another butch lesbian, slightly younger, wander back from the kitchen into the apartment. Where were we?

We wanted to take advantage of the fresh seafood available on Mexico’s coasts, and the menu had several unusual offerings on it in addition to the usual styles of pescado and camarones (a la veracruzana, al la diabla, al ajillo). The waiter brought out the chef to answer our questions about the curiously named “camarones a la mamada“. He explained that he had traveled all over Mexico to learn different styles of Mexican cooking featured on the menu, but that the camarones a la mamada were his own creation. What arrived was a visual as well as gastronomic feast: an enormous plate of whole shrimps (with heads) seasoned with a mayonnaise and chipotle-based marinade were served with a side of rice. The color was a fiery orange, the taste was rich and spicy but not overwhelmingly so. I supposed the name meant that the shrimps were to be sucked out of their shells, but I’m not ashamed to say I ate each entire prawn, head and all, so flavorful was this dish.

The other gem on the menu was more traditional fair: the micheladas were the best I’ve ever had. Served with ice (necesary in the oppressive humidity of the Guerrero coast) these were spicy and fresh, lighter and yet more flavorful than the best bloody mary. We couldn’t resist coming back and having another round at eleven the next morning, when we encountered even more gay and lesbian locals hanging out and stopping by. One big machota that was working in the kitchen would occasionally come outside to hack open a coconut with a machete on a rough wooden table in front of the restaurant.

When asked if he would mind us mentioning his restaurant in a gay guide to Mexico, the chef and owner, Jose Manuel Nieto, happily agreed, stating that he was gay and pointing out the subtle rainbow on the restaurant’s sign. He also mentioned that they rented rooms behind the restaurant, though we were not able to see the accommodations. Additionally, he told us that there was a small water-park behind the restaurant, and that he would be willing to close the water-park to the public for private parties if there were gay groups that wanted to use it.

So, plan a meal, a trip, or a gay pool party at fabulous Maryfer.

Pie de la Cuesta is accessible by bus or taxi from Acapulco (it is about a twenty minute drive from Acapulco Viejo). Unless you are determined to explore surrounding areas, I recommend taking a bus from Mexico City over driving. Unless you are traveling in a group of four or five, the tolls on the highway are much more than a roundtrip bus ticket, and long stretches of the road are very poorly lit at night.

Restaurante Maryfer, Av. Fuerza Aerea Lote 3 Manz. 59, Pie de la Cuesta, Acapulco

The exquisite tortas at La Barraca Valenciana are all served on small bolillos (rolls) and in addition to the usual sandwich choices (pierna… milanesa…), Barraca also has several vegetarian options. The champiñones torta, made with chopped small mushrooms–not the overwhelming volume of a portobello cap–is one worthy option; the vegetariano, made with with sautéed eggplant and deliciously melted Chihuahua cheese, is another, though a tad heavier. Both sandwiches are served with chimichurri, a simple Argentine sauce made from olive oil, garlic, and parsley, and the staff is happy to bring you some more on the side.

Although the vegetarian options are tempting, the best torta at La Barraca Valenciana is the calimar, simply a bolillo piled with chopped baby squid, cooked in chimichurri. As with any of the sandwiches here, you can supplement the flavors of the calimar with some of the chiles, cauliflower, onions, or small potatoes marinating in vinegar as a condiment on every table.

The tortas here are small–I couldn’t say light– but for those looking for more of an appetizer, I recommend the papas bravas, boiled potatoes served in a sauce made from chile and the same house-made mayonnaise. The passable micheladas are a nice accompaniment.

Although La Barraca Valenciana is not an explicitly lesbian establishment, its location in Coyoacán and proximity to the “Blue House” Frida Kahlo Museum make it a spot frequented by both chilanga and tourist machas alike. Stop next door at the window of local chain coffee shop El Jarocho for an afternoon coffee or hot chocolate.

Tortas at La Barraca Valenciana run between 30 and 60 pesos and are well worth it for the rich fusion of flavors that spans three continents.