It was with sadness that we packed up to leave Guanajuato.
It was truly one of the richest life experiences I've had and Kimberly felt much the same. Each day was filled with color, culture, music, good food and for the first time in my life, I really felt like I was on a vacation.
Our landlord, Maria Luz and her daughter, had been so sweet and helpful, we considered them almost family.
We took a final ride down the steep streets into the bustle of downtown, then into the tunnels for an exit south towards Morelia. The route was to take as many of the free roads as we could before having to make time in the heat on the tollways.
Lunch called and we found a roadside taco stand, where Kim had an encounter with a jalapeño. The aforementioned pepper kicked ass and took down her name. The night before we'd had a meal with a grilled pepper that wasn't too hot, and when our lunch food came with a big green grilled pepper Kim unthinkingly scooped out the seeds with her finger and took a big bite.
I wasn't paying attention and asked her about the food. There was silence, then I noticed the tears streaming down her face. A warm Pepsi didn't help much, but she was able to speak again after a few moments. I felt sorry for her but there isn't much you can do!
A couple of moments later she walked to the bikes for something, when I suddenly heard her yelling my name. I ran over to find her in severe pain, having inadvertently rubbed her eye with the finger she'd used to scoop out the seeds. A couple of minutes of pouring drinking water into her eye finally brought some relief but it was not a good lunch date!
Our route was to take us across a couple of lakes on the way to Morelia, and as we neared the region the tell-tale, cone-shaped mountains of dormant volcanoes began to appear on either side of the road. We weren't in Kansas no more Toto.
The entire nation of Mexico seemed extremely dry and I was disappointed to find the lakes dry as a bone.
Arriving in Morelia about 4, we found the main plaza, filled with tents and vendors, as the week of Semana Santa had begun. Traffic was thick and people were everywhere, stopping to stare at us as we looked to park the bikes. We squeezed into a spot next to some other small motos and headed for the nearest concrete bench to peel out of the hot gear and boots.
Morelia was a beautiful colonial city, more organized and European in its grid-like layout than say, Guanajuato, but striking in it's wealth and stunning cathedrals. It was impressive and very clean as well.
Locking our helmets and jackets to the bikes, we made the large circle around the plaza, watching local Indian performers doing a traditional dance with loud clacking wooden sandals, their backs bent as if old men and wearing masks with long blonde hair made of rope. We were to find out later that it was a historical dance mocking the Spaniards from the past.
Some dude with these trained birds was making a killing. Folks were lined up to pay lots of pesos for the birds to pick their fortunes.
We've decided this might be our ticket to fortune when we return to the U.S.
Stares were more prevalent here than in the other places we've visited, a good sign that gringos were a bit more rare in this area. We made the rounds and waited on a bench for our host to meet us, and while doing so a fair skinned man sitting nearby began a conversation. He was a native of Morelia, but had lived in Chicago for 10 years before having to return to Mexico after his travel visa had expired. He wasn't a happy man, as he had to leave his wife and son there and hadn't seen them in several years. There was no bitterness towards the U.S., and in fact he wanted to live there again. He said Mexico was just so poor and politicians so corrupt that it was very hard to live. Fifty dollars a week is about the average income he told me, and it took six years to be able to buy a car, so he said local people don't have much hope for the future.
He was a nice guy and said he had heard us speaking English and wanted to practice his again. He asked us to say a prayer that he would be able to return to his son some day. We talked a while longer until our host found us, and we said our goodbyes, riding behind our new friend on his café racer into an old neighborhood for the evening.
Alan, our Couch-surfing host and his cafe racer
Alan and his girlfriend Valerua, had a small child, Mattias, who kept us entertained until Alan had to return to the main plaza to deliver his bike to it's new owner. Alan had decided to sell his bike so that he and his wife could open a taco stand out of their home.
We were wanting to see some of the entertainment happening that night in preparation for the Holy Week and all rode together back downtown. A while later, his wife and son arrived and we wandered the streets with them, ending up in a coffee shop and talking until late in the night.
Our digs were an upstairs bedroom across the street from a club of sorts, the sounds of ranchero music playing loud and live late into the morning hours. At 5 am, I was awakened to three loud explosions that sounded like a 12 gauge shotgun about 50 feet away, only to hear the tolling of a church bell a moment later. Semana Santa had begun with the celebration of massive fireworks at 5 am, 6 am and randomly forever over the next week.
The next day was Palm Sunday, and we explored the city a bit on the bikes, seeing various churches with people carrying beautifully decorated and woven palm fronds. Having slept little the night before due to the noise, we found a plaza or two to nap in.
After a while we headed for a large park I saw on Google maps and discovered it was actually a zoo. We were intrigued, had to visit and found a spot for the bikes. Entry was about $1.00 US.
Forget U.S. zoos. Here the animals were up close and personal, often behind chain link fences and newly erected ropes were only about 18-24" from the fence. It's an easy reach to stick your fingers in the tiger cage, or better yet a hyena.
They had several tigers, including a white Siberian that was amazing. We watched him for a long time, until he suddenly sensed someone coming down the pathway on the other side and quickly moved into a hiding position. We watched as a young kid and adult walked past the cage, the tiger suddenly stalking, then leaping at the youth, protected only by a chain link fence. We weren't sure what it was about the kid, but the tiger had nothing but eyes for him. It was a bit creepy seeing how he would have taken someone down in the wild.
The zoo was far more interesting than an American zoo, I guess because if you really wanted to, you could have your hand bitten off pretty easily, but it's the closest either of us have ever been to wild(-ish?) animals and it was actually fun.
The evening was spent in the plaza looking at the myriad vendors and our inevitable people-watching. At one point while sitting on a bench, a guy with a weird vibe came over and squeezed between me and another couple, eyes on my leather camera pouch. I wrapped it's strap around my wrist and then got up and walked away. He definitely had a bad spirit and probably bad intentions, but if so he needed to polish his theft technique a bit more.
One thing I can say, there is no shortage of food nor food vendors in Mexico!
Mr. Peanut's bitter brother
