Big Mexico: Oaxaca

Forty one years later.....Oaxaca again.

My memory of the previous visit is so fuzzy. I went there in 1971 with Sylvia Maldonado, a Texan who didn't speak Spanish. I remember the owner of the small hotel we stayed in admonishing her for not speaking Spanish, after all she had an illustrious last name!! I had to translate for him.....

Our guide with a model of Monte Alban

John loves Oaxaca, especially the beaches, one of which is a nude beach, Zipolite. I didn't get that far south on my way 'home' to San Cristobal. The bus ride from San Miguel de Allende was about six hours, counting the time it took to wait around in Mexico City for the next bus.

On the bus to Oaxaca there was a handsome young man with very hip black glasses who had a new MacBook. He didn't speak much English and unfortunately his MacBook was loaded with only English programs He did have a little thumb drive antenna to pick up internet, like the one I once used out at the cabana south of San Cristobal. We were able to ascertain that he needed to purchase a Spanish language add-on to his Office products. He was just darling but we had a terrible time understanding each other. Well, let me rephrase that. I had a terrible time. He was originally from Veracruz and his accent and the speed of his speech, combined with the noise of the perpetual blasting action-flick on the bus TV screens, and then road noise on top of that, made it almost impossible for me to understand him. After a while I gave up. But when we finally reached the outskirts of Oaxaca we had a bit more conversation.

He is serving in the army and works Intel. He was in Oaxaca for work, and recommended the Hotel Veracruz, near the Central bus station as a good hotel with reasonable rates. He even walked me over to the hotel since it was already dark when we got there. He was right, it was small, clean, smoke-free, secure, and had a very good restaurant that was frequented by the locals. It was only $40 a night.

Ah, what a difference twice the price makes! After the horrible hotel experiences in Tuxtla and Mazatlan, twice the price was worth every penny. I couldn't see through the sheets, the shower was enclosed, there was hot water, the toilet had a seat and it flushed!! I was positively spoiled!

Monte Alban

The next day I signed up for a tour of Monte Alban, thinking it would be like some of the other tours I'd taken on this long trip. We were supposed to spend about three hours at the ruins of the great Zapotec/Mixtec ceremonial center, then visit some other little towns, one with an ancient Cieba tree. I paid $300 pesos for the tour and there was no mention of additional fees for Monte Alban. When we got to the ruins the guide told everyone to pay for their entrance fee. That's when I discovered that I had paid $100 pesos more than anyone else so I refused to pay more and the guide had to fork over the extra money. That was the first of several tip-offs this was not the usual up-front tour company.

A god being born, feet first,
 of a virgin, what a concept!

In the ruins the guide was mediocre. He pointed to several trees that were clearly the same species and called them different names, saying they were used as medicine for this or that. Then he told the Spanish speakers rather different stories than when he spoke in English. And I wasn't the only tourist to notice. A Frenchman on the tour was disgusted with him as well. I loved Monte Alban and would have preferred to spend the rest of the day there. We never got to see the museum at all. The day was turning hot and we had to move on with the rest of the tour. The bus barreled down a dirt road that dropped off the Monte Alban mountain and we ended up in a little village where we were ushered into a wood carvers workshop. Seven or eight women were employed painting the wood figures and while it is a style that is cute and very Oaxacan, we spent an inordinate amount of time there being urged by the guide to buy things. After the workshop we had lunch at an expensive buffet restaurant. The food was quite good and it was nice to sit in the shade and have a tasty meal.

The next stop was another workshop where a woman, dressed in a costume, gave a pot making demonstration, then we were urged again to buy, buy, buy in the pottery's shop.  Last stop was in Culiapan de Guerrero, at the Dominican Monastery, church, and archeological ruin. That was interesting, but the guide never mentioned what I later discovered on the Internet, that Mexico's second President, Vicente Guererro was executed just outside this monastery.  What makes this ruin interesting is that the roof appears to be missing from the nave, but was in fact never installed. The church was built for the purpose of supplanting the local native religion, and the indiginous people found indoor rituals claustrophobic.

Plaza Santo Domingo with some of the
2501 Migrants

I visited the Santo Domingo Church on my way to the Zocalo, and it was absolutely the most beautiful church I've seen yet in Mexico. The walls and ceiling are covered with paintings and murals, much like the photos I've seen of the Sistine Chapel. Next door is an ex-convento, a monastery, that is now the Regional Museum of Oaxaca. It was also a beautiful building with displays of the treasures found in Tomb 7 at Monte Alban, old paintings that came across the Atlantic with the early Spanish settlers, furniture, religious icons, and loads of history. Plus history is being made right out in front of the church. An artist named Alejandro Santiago has created 2501 statues of human beings, all sizes and shapes, and placed them in groups around the church. They represent people who have left their homes, villages, and even their country in search of work and a better life. The statues were produced by people in Santiago's village as part of this effort to inform people in and out of Mexico of the plight of the poor.

Two kids with an 'electric' car!

Over the next day and a half, I wandered all around Oaxaca, meeting and chatting with locals in the parks. A large demonstration was held to protest violence in general, and specifically against women, with hundreds of people in the streets, a truck mounted with a loudspeaker, and then all gathered in the Zocalo for a rally of political speeches and rousing songs. This is also an election year for Mexico, so I am never sure how much of the activity is normal and how much is a result of political parties trying to get their messages out. Many large cloth banners have sprung up lately thanking the government of various states for basically doing the job they're supposed to be doing: "Thank you Mr Governor for  the paved road.....fixed bridge.......new hospital, etc." Really? The local people paid good money to put up those banners?

I met a woman who teaches cooking at a local language school, and toured the school. It is housed in a beautiful old hacienda with giant palm trees and flowering Jacarandas. She gave me the names of a couple of her friends who put up students and promised to help me find a place to live if/when I want to try living in Oaxaca. I think that will be my next long-term Mexican destination. It's a lovely city with a warmer and dryer climate than San Cristobal, but not super hot like along the coast. It seems as safe as any other major Mexican city, with a lot of foreigners living there too.

The roofless church/monastery
in Culiacan 

The bus ride home was a 12 hour overnight drop to the hot and humid coast, where we laid over  at 3:00 am for half an hour so the bus drivers (of several other buses) could have a meal and we could all stretch our legs. This bus went across Chiapas to Comitan, so it passed through San Cristobal and I got home at around 7:30 am. It was lovely to finally land in my own place, sleep in my own comfortable bed, and be home at last from the Big Mexico trip.

Beautiful painted wooden sculptures

Spring buds on Monte Alban's trees

Monte Alban

View through open portal at Monte Alban's
visitor's center

Language school in Oaxaca

Carved stelae at Monte Alban

Protesters in Oaxaca

Balloon vendors!

Santo Domingo Church

Big Mexico: San Miguel de Allende

San Miguel, it's like coming home.....

On the bus coming from Guanajuato, the sun was setting on the city, and I remembered finally why San Miguel is always pink, in my memory. The city's cathedral is built of a rock with a decidedly pink cast, and many of the buildings seem rosy in the early and late sun.

My friend Mike refers to his first marriage of 9 months (and then divorce) as his "starter" marriage. I like to think of San Miguel as my starter trip, the first place in Mexico I visited after a 40 year hiatus. I've now been there three times and this third visit felt like coming home. Friends live there, and friends from New Mexico are in an RV park off San Antonio, and people I met in San Cristobal live there too. I know the streets from having walked them many times, where to buy groceries, even where to get a haircut if I needed one, and the location of the best ice cream in all Mexico is a block from the RV park.  (Santa Clara Creamery for any who want to get some!)

When John and I visited San Miguel for the Bicentennial (El Grito and the Crush) we met Alexa, whom John nicknamed Miss Scarlet for her southern drawl. This trip, I stayed with her for four days and visited Joyce and George in their RV which they've named Rosinante for Don Quixote's horse. (They have a smaller RV at home named Rosi Dos). George is a guide on tours benefitting the Patronato de los Ninos, an organization that helps Mexican children. It's a volunteer position, and he does a fabulous job.  I had always meant to take that tour some time, but never got around to it. Joyce and I met up with George and his group and then traipsed all over the antique-est part of town getting the low-down on the history, politics, religion, and local cuisine. That day, the Chichimecas were celebrating.

Chichimecas in the church

Historically the Chichimeca's were a tribe the Aztecs barely tried to conquer and they put up a serious resistance to the Spaniards as well. They were primarily nomadic with a detailed knowledge of their environment and it's hiding (and attacking) places. But alas, disease got the best of them and from their perspective, the Catholic church saved them. On this day, the Chichimecas commemorated their conversion to Christianity, and were celebrating throughout the Centro area, with loud drums, singing and dancing. While the tour group was in the church, a Chichimeca group came in to offer thanks for having been converted (some 400 years ago!). They sang and beat their drums. George gave up trying to talk about the church and its history. The tourists enjoyed the spectacle. Later he took the group out of the church, but he still had to contend with the competing dance groups outside, loudly hammering their drums to different songs and rhythms.

Dancing in the streets

Such incredible costumes!

Miss Scarlet and I had a marvelous visit. She works as an interpreter for a company in the US. Because of Vonage and other miracles of global communication, she can work from where ever she has sufficient Internet. We went out to eat a couple of times, had George and Joyce over for dinner, visited and caught up, and then I went off on my own while she worked during the day.

The second day, unbeknownst to me, it was Joyce's birthday. She wanted to go out to see the Capillas, the tiny little churches out in the countryside, in the ejidos, the little communities that surround San Miguel. So George unhooked Rosinante from her water/sewer/electric moorings, and off we went bouncing down dirt roads and occasionally overtaking a trope (speed bump) a little too quickly.

Atotonilco church

Many illustrated stories in the Bible

First stop was Atotonilco, a little town north of the city with a very old and interesting church. Inside are painted the stories of the bible. The murals cover every inch of the inside of the church, the ceiling, the walls, everything but the pews and the floor. A dirt road then led us towards the ejidos and their colorful little chapels.

It's always fun for to be with someone with a vehicle because it unleashes us from the standard routes that buses and combies must take. We stopped at every capilla we could find, including some that were down a burro path off the dirt road. At one place four little girls came to talk to us. I could see a man, presumably a dad, off in the distance watching us closely. I waved at him and he smiled. The girls were so cute. Joyce asked them about school, and did they go to the Capilla on Sundays, etc. The smallest one looked to be about four and was quite talkative and bright. It turned out that she was actually seven years old, just very tiny in stature.

George and Joyce at a Capilla

A little larger Capilla

That evening, the RV neighbors were having a birthday party for Joyce. I was surprised she'd never mentioned it, but she said the trip to the campo had been George's present and she was glad I could come along. So was I.

Ben and Gerry

On Saturday I visited with other newer friends, people who had stayed next door to me in San Cristobal, who have a lovely home on the hillside overlooking San Miguel. Ben and Gerry. Ben is an artist so their home is marvelous with a huge portrait of Frida Kahlo in the living room that he "painted" with little pieces of paper! We had lunch at a nice little vegetarian restaurant, but that evening I began to experience a little revenge. I doubt I picked it up at the restaurant, but nevertheless it took it's toll and forced me to postpone my departure from San Miguel.

Next stop: Oaxaca

Big Mexico: Ajijic and Lake Chapala

Note to future self: Just because you've been in a place a couple of times, don't think for a second that you know what you're doing there.

Guadalajara, 3:00am, arrived at the bus station with at least 2 hours to wait until buses started running. I was told the only place to catch a bus to Ajijic and Lake Chapala is the old bus station. Oh, I know that place. It's where I caught the bus to Patzcuaro a couple of years ago, and where I came back to fly out. I know that old bus station! It's just a hop away from Tlaquepaque. 

I was told the buses to the old bus station would say Central Viejo, but after waiting for an hour outside in the dark watching bus after bus pass, I hopped on one that said Tlaquepaque. I knew I could take a taxi from there and get to the bus station in a few minutes.....piece of cake. 

WRONG.

The bus driver told me to get off the bus in the middle of some dark street that didn't look at all familiar. That way....he pointed.....the Zocalo. Really? With my suitcase on wheels, and two other bags stacked on top, I rolled off down the bumpy street in the early dark. The streets were deserted, not even roosters crowing. A few windows were lit but mostly it was just really really dark. Since nobody was around, it wasn't particularly scary, but still......

At the end of the long street I saw a familiar sight off to the right, the towers of the two churches. Sure enough the Zocalo was down that direction. A woman street-sweeper was there cleaning up the detritus from the usual Sunday night massive party. She told me to go to the taxi stand. Wow, I remembered where it was!! The taxi driver said it would be $100p to go to the old bus station. What? It was only $20p last time. He looked surprised. No, the bus station is a long ways he said. The old bus station is in the center of Guadalajara. The other is the NEW bus station, but not the BIG new bus station. Yes, that new one is close, the old one is far. 

Mickey

So, to save myself time and pesos, I ended up spending more of both. 

I have no idea what the landscape from Guad to Lake Chapala looked like because I was asleep the minute the bus pulled out of the station, and didn't wake up till it pulled into Chapala. Still groggy I called my friend Mickey. She said "I have a problem. My house is full of drunks and I can't get my car out, somebody is parked behind me. You'll have to wait a few hours." No way was I hanging around any more bus stations.  I took a cab. 

There had been a party the night before and two guys stayed over rather than drive home. One was in the guest room's bed when I dropped off my bags. I thanked Mickey for the "bienvenidos present"!

Mickey's wonderful house!

Her place is really nice, a large patio/garden where she can also park the car inside the locked gate. A large avocado shades the car, but it's not a good idea to park under it, rock hard avocados occasionally decide to drop.

It's a furnished place, but tastefully decorated with a kitchen any cook would die for, a rare find in Mexico I've discovered, where cooking is an afterthought for home builders. She and I drank coffee and visited for a few hours till her other guests woke up. 

We drove into Chapala to look around. At the "beach" along the lake, vendors sell liquid refreshments. Mickey's boyfriend bought me a "Vampire", almost a quart of red fruity drink that he said had tequila in it. It tasted like it had about six different juices, but no tequila. It was hot so I drank a lot of it right away. After a few minutes, I couldn't figure out why my body kept listing off to one side. 

Lake Chapala in the evening

Ajijic

We stopped at their favorite lunch spot, a little place on the main road through town with outside seating, that specialized in tortas ahogadas, drowned sandwiches. She and I split a shredded beef torta and got a shrimp torta to go. Each of our halves came in their own metal bowl, drowning in a hot tomato-y soup, and served with a large spoon. It was fantastic. The soup was the perfect compliment to the meat and the bread soaked it up so it was easy to cut with a spoon. The next morning, we had the shrimp version for breakfast. Its sauce was totally different, but just as complimentary. Oh my. I can see why she loves living in Ajijic.

I have two friends, Brigitte and Bob, who have a winter home in San Cristobal, and one in Ajijic. Mickey had taken me to her hair dresser for one of the better cuts in my life, and it was only one block from the address Brigitte gave me. So the next morning, I hiked over to see their house and have some excellent coffee under the palapa next to the pool. And what a gorgeous place it is!! They purchased the house about twelve years ago and spent a lot of money remodeling, incorporating an open porch into a dining room, putting in the pool, planting (now large) shade trees, adding a couple of rooms, and completely replacing bathrooms and the kitchen. Brigitte is an avid patron of the arts. She commissioned a freestanding "pantry" with a mural on the front that, well, you have to see the picture to get the full force of it. 

Brigitte's painted pantry. So well done you don't see the knobs to the doors.

We spent some time discussing security issues in Ajijic and Chapala. Apparently the area is no longer the most idyllic paradise for ex-pats. All of their neighbors have been robbed when they were gone and have subsequently put in alarm systems. But in general it is a typical small town with some drug addiction and drug dealer problems. A teenager was recently murdered but no arrests have been made yet. And may not, as the prime suspects are known to be part of a cartel. Mexico really struggles with the side-effects of North America's passion for cocaine and marijuana. 

The Palapa and pool (and Frodo)

Mickey and I have a mutual friend who lives in Australia, we all went to high school together. Jill introduced both of us to one of her friends who lives in Chapala, Stephanie, who in turn invited us to a little party at her place. The house she and her husband purchased sat on barren land with a great view of the lake and mountains. When the house next door came up for sale, they bought it as well, then later on, more vacant land down hill. It developed into a ranchito, with barns, dogs, peacocks, and donkeys, a preserve for the local flora, and the most beautiful garden with orange trees, a pond, petrified wood benches, and a gazebo with a wet bar for entertaining. One of Stephanie's friends owns one of the four donkeys and told me the mask it was wearing was because of an allergy to grass that made it's eyes water. The mask looked like fine mosquito netting and fit around the donkey's face. (A donkey allergic to grass?) She also applies some kind of medicine to its haunches. I thought to myself, what a lucky donkey to be this lady's pet. I doubt if a Mexican farmer would worry if his donkey had watery eyes, he certainly wouldn't put medicine on its ass!!

This is a nasty little fruit, called the Bishop's Cajones.
Decoration only, totally useless.

The party was delightful. The cook was an award winning chile chef, and a well-known classical guitarist with a PhD in music, of Chinese decent, who teaches at a university in Canada. Most of the other guests had equally interesting pedigrees, and were in Chapala for the annual music festival. We had a great time, and I wish there had been more opportunity to visit and get to know Stephanie. 

Typical street in Ajijic in the early morning

The pool!

Brigitte's living room

Brigitte in her kitchen

Mickey's wonderful outdoor living room

Big Mexico: Mazatlan

Carnival Roman Soldier

My friend Dale spends most winters on his sailboat in the Sea of Cortez. He had shown me photos of Mazatlan after Carnival with the dozen or more paper mache statues lining the beach. On this weekend right after Carnival, they were still in place and they are impressive, huge, imposing, sometimes amusing, and after many years, in bad shape.

I spent Thursday night on the Baja Ferry. This one was not as luxurious as the one from Topolobampo. There was no lounge with Kareoke singer, the cafeteria was small and the 'seating' consisted of comfortable large chairs lined up like a movie theater with three big flat screens mounted on the front wall. They showed two American movies dubbed in Spanish. My seat was a single seat next to the wall, behind the back row. Even if I could have followed the rapid fire Spanish, I could hardly hear it for the roar of the engines. Behind our 'theater' there was the open deck. In the roofed section it was quite warm but smelled of diesel. Further out on the deck, the night air had a chill. After the second movie ended at 11:00, they turned the lights down and everyone went to sleep. Some stretched out on the floors, others laid across several open seats, and many lay down in the aisle which made getting past them on the swaying boat rather precarious.

I slept for a while with feet propped up on the chair in front, then tried lying on the floor behind the seats. I hadn't thought about bringing my towel for a pillow or blanket so used my lumpy purse and slept until too chilled to be comfortable. Quite a few people slept outside on the warm but stinky deck. Somehow the night came to an end.

There was a woman who came up to me and began speaking in heavily accented English. She looked a bit Mayan, very short, stocky, and with the cutest gnome-like smile. Her name was Mariluz. She was born in Chile but has lived in Australia for over forty years. She converted to Mormonism and married a widower with six children, plus she had two of her own. One of her sons is married to a Mexican and lives in Culiacan. She was headed that way to see her first grandchild.

Mariluz

We had a lot of fun talking on the boat, eating our two supplied meals, and then she stayed with me in my hotel since it had two beds, and there was no reason she should have to pay for a room of her own.

I love how this sort of thing develops with people in Mexico and probably other parts of the world. Backpackers hook up with each other, but it has been a rare occurrance in my lifetime. I suppose travel has made me regress to a younger outlook.

I had reserved two nights at the hotel online: Hotel Fiesta. It painted a lovely picture - across the street from the main bus station, someone at the desk 24/7 so supposedly it was more secure, inexpensive (cheap), and near the beach and restaurants. Sounded good. The cab driver however painted a rather different picture when he tried to convince us that it wasn't really suitable for two middle aged ladies. Bad area, crime, run down......Both pictures were accurate.

We went there anyway. It wasn't so bad, it wasn't so good either. The room was clean. The door locked only with a dead bolt. The inside part, where the dead bolt is held in place, had been broken, then repaired with a thin piece of wood that could easily be busted off if some guy were to throw himself against the door. I wasn't planning on making anybody that angry but still, I was not about to leave anything of real value in the room.  Mariluz was a bit taken aback at the poor conditions, the sheets were thin, the toilet had no seat, there was no hot water....There were also no bugs and it was  exceptionally clean. I had my towel but she had to ask at the desk for one.

View of the city

It was three blocks from the beach so that's the first place we went. We took turns sitting on the towel guarding the purses and played in the surf. A fine day with low breezes and few other beach-goers. Then we walked the full length of the beach, shopped at some of the little stands set up on the side of the road, ate lunch at a seafood place that was totally empty except for us, and then walked into the ritzier part of town. She had in mind to take a city tour and seemed to have gotten directions on where to sign up for it. It was a long and hot walk but we found the tour kiosk. The operator let me use his internet for about half an hour so I was able to check in with relatives and friends who hadn't heard from me in a week.

A Dairy Queen was right next door so we got a sundae and sat down to cool off. This part of town is rife with US stores and restaurants like McDonalds, Burger King, and Auto Zone. Across the street was a Senor Frog's outlet. It had water pouring down over all the windows making the brightly lit inside look like it was actually underwater. Nice marketing ploy. There were four other Senor Frog stores nearby, all selling clothing and accessories with the same frog design. Who knew such a thing could be so popular?

The Family sculpture, with a distant relative.

Mariluz wanted to go dancing but I was too exhausted and really did not feel comfortable being out very late at night walking back to the hotel in this strange potentially dangerous city. I think she was secretly glad I refused because she fell asleep by 9:00. We had taken a bus to return to our hotel, but neither of us were sure where it was. She could ask people and understand their instructions better than I, so it was just fine with her tagging along for a couple of days.

The next morning we went on the city tour and it was a good trip for the money. The bus took us up to the top of the town's mountain, into the old city where the cathedral and huge indoor market are located, and we stopped to watch cliff divers. It gave me a better mental image of the town and how far apart things are. That interior map came in handy on Sunday when I went walking all over town and needed to be back to catch a bus to Guadalajara by 6:00.

Mass in the market

Mariluz left for Culiacan Saturday night. I found I missed her company. It's nice to have a travel companion, especially one as easy to be with as she. If I ever visit Australia, I had to promise to come visit her and stay as long as I want. I was flattered.

On Sunday the man at the desk agreed to "guard" my bags while I went off to explore the city. As everywhere else in Mexico, buses run all the time. One went directly to the cathedral in the old part of town, where of course Mass was being given. On the city tour we'd gone into the cathedral, It was tranquil, beautiful with 14 Star of David stained glass windows, 7 on each long wall, and chandeliers to light the interior. But on Sunday morning it was packed with people standing, sitting in pews and folding chairs. A loudspeaker blasted and echo'd the words of the priest. I couldn't understand anything but the occasional reference to Jesus.

Cliff divers

Next door to the Cathedral is the indoor market, a huge roof over open air stalls. Huge sides of beef were being unloaded from a truck. Strong young men carried half of a cow on their backs into the butcher shops in the very center of the market. Because the air flowed through so easily, the meat section didn't have the rotted odor of so many other Mexican markets.

Inside is every kind of stall imaginable: clothing (much of it with Mazatlan printed on it somewhere), furniture, pottery, weavings, fresh bread, fruits and vegetables, fish (some stalls specialized and sold only Marlin for instance), sweets,  chocolates, etc. Many trinket sellers followed me around with plastic figurines of turtles, mermaids, frogs, or fish with Mazatlan printed on the base, plus a bunch of other useless crap. I could see buying a hand-painted ceramic fish made by a local person, but plastic junk probably made in China? Makes you wonder who buys that stuff.

Wandering on through town, eventually I arrived at the twelve kilometer long Malecon. It was mid afternoon so I stopped at a restaurant with a sign for their special Sunday meal: Paella. A half order sufficed and was loaded with shrimp, clams, chicken and a little sausage. The couple at the next table mentioned that their paella didn't have any shrimp so the waiter promptly brought them a whole plate of shrimp with two different salsas. I chatted with them a bit. They own a condo and have been coming to Mazatlan for about fifteen years. The man pointed at a huge structure down the street and said it was a mansion that has been sitting, unfinished, and empty for the last ten years. The owner is a notorious drug dealer now serving time in prison.

A Siren

This is how safe Mexico is..... The closest I come to a drug boss of the heinous Sinaloa Cartel is walking past his unfinished mansion.

Pleasant breezes came off the ocean so it never was very hot. Food vendors lined the Malecon and guys selling balloons, floaty toys, and kites wander up and down the beach. Around 6:00 I picked up my luggage and caught the bus. Another night of trying to sleep in a moving vehicle ended at 3:00am with the lights on suddenly. We'd arrived in Guadalajara.

The first fermenter for Pacifico Beer.

The empty mansion

Big Mexico: La Paz, Baja Sur

A float from the Carnival parade.

Back at the Posada LunaSol in La Paz, we got our stuff out of storage and came back to 'regular' life. Some went out to eat, but Lia and I were feeling overfed in general plus we wanted to check out the Festival. It was Fat Tuesday, the last night of Carnival. She had never seen a real street festival in Mexico with all the wonderful music, smells, and food booths. Of course we ended up eating AGAIN, this time a bite here, a bite there. Booths were overflowing with popcorn, special yeast breads stuffed with a sweetened cream, not unlike a very soft cream cheese, the usual carved mangoes on a stick, charales (those little whole fried fish that crunch), roasted ears of corn dipped in butter or slathered with lime-mayonnaise and sprinkled with chile-salt, and so much more. There were con-booths with balloons you pop with a dart, bowls of water you try to get a coin to fall into, funny wooden things you try to stand up on for 10 seconds but which roll out from under you almost instantly.....

The cathedral is undergoing a
transition.

Band stands had been set up within ear-shot of each other so the loud music tended to overlap and gave an interesting twist to the street's cacophony. The crowd was dense in the Malecon, the area along the beach and it's parallel street. Hotels overlooking the party were packed with people in the upstairs bars watching the crowds, and hotel guests sitting out on their balconies. We wandered all over until our feet were exhausted. Lia felt like she was coming down with the revenge, so I stopped at a tiny tienda that was open on a side street. I asked for Pepto-Bismol, or something for diarrhea. The woman said "Lomatil" and opened up a box, pulled out a card of pills and cut off two squares with a tiny blue pill embedded in each. She gave me strict instructions to only use one and not the other until tomorrow and ONLY if really needed.  It's powerful stuff and fixed Lia up right away. I gave her the other pill just in case, but I should have kept it for myself, eventually I needed one, too, in San Miguel.

Wednesday four of our group left to return to the states, and the rest of us explored La Paz on foot. I needed to purchase a ticket on the Ferry for the next day, and had to go in person to the Ferry headquarters. Unfortunately all the cabins had been sold and only seats were available. I would soon be joining the masses of people needing to find a place to sleep on the ferry overnight to Mazatlan.  It made me appreciate my comfortable bed at the Posada one more night.

I found everyone at the anthropology museum which Felicia said was full of interesting objects but all the signs were in Spanish, so they missed much of the explanations. We hiked to the Zocalo to an exhibition of exquisite photographs by two local artists. Then walked around till we found the seafood restaurant that our guide had recommended. As a fan of street food and little hole in the wall restaurants, I don't usually go to the gringo-tourist places with table cloths, super attentive waiters, and expensive food that tastes (usually) the same. But Felicia and I shared a mariscos platter of shrimp, octopus, and fish, shared guacamole with the others, and had truly a wonderful lunch.

An old boat used as a planter and sign.

Lia and I walked back to the hotel, exploring the city as we went. We passed a community organic garden which was most interesting. A Canadian woman who lives nearby was there tending to her patch and explained how the cooperative worked. What a nice concept for city people to have a place to grow food, support each other's efforts, and pay only a pittance for the water bill.

Businesses along the Malecon

At the hotel, the Opsahls got the upstairs apartment, which is usually the hotel owner's home when in town. So we had access to a fine kitchen fully equipped. After lunch, the others went to the market to see what was fresh and might be good for dinner.  Felicia is by far the best chef I know personally. That evening she put together a dinner of baked fish with chunky salsa on top, some guacamole and a side dish of stuffed poblanos that was hands down the best meal we'd eaten on the entire trip. If I sell my condo in Los Alamos some day, I wonder if she and Evan would let me move in with them.

Public beach and marina

A fancy hotel and restaurant on the beach.

Another section of the Malecon.