Our hosts were young and a lot of fun, Alan being obsessed with cafe racers and having sold his bike the night previous to fund a taco stand they wanted to run from their home. As we prepared to leave that next morning, Valerua's brother and family arrived to see the parade. They were so sweet and excited to see the bikes that I gave all the kids a ride before we left. It was a lot of fun.
From Morelia, our destination was Patzcuaro, by way of Quiroga where we'd been told the best carnitas were to be found. Carnitas are slow cooked pork, braised in oil until it falls apart and then fried til slightly crispy. By noon, we'd rolled into Carnitaville and indeed the plaza was swarmed with carnitas vendors. We partook and enjoyed immensely, wandering the artesanal leather shops along the streets.
If you ever wondered whatever happened to "Klackers"or "Knockers", they are alive and well in Mexico
Jésus Malverde, patron saint of the narcos
The heat finally drove us to the bikes and the road south for Patzcuaro. We stopped off to see the archeological ruins in Tzintzuntzan, walking the massive stone structures and trying to cool off in the sparse shade.
From Tzintzuntzan (I feel sexy saying it quickly) we headed on. Kim had found a host in Patzcuaro, and we made the last hour into the town as the sky turned orange from the sunset. The heat had taken it's toll that day, and my GPS was again out of it's mind, sending us on a nightmare route through the town that lead absolutely nowhere but into dead end streets and one way alleys. We were both hot and cranky and I was tempted to take it out on the Garmin with the heel of my boot but didn't... The Garmin maps of Mexico are terrible, and if I didn't have Google maps, Sygic and Navigon apps on my phone we'd still be lost somewhere in Mexico. Garmin can get us from one place to another on main roads, but beyond that I stop and use an app, then find the coordinates and program them into the Garmin. When Google builds a GPS I'll be the first buyer.
Anyway, the square was absolutely slammed with vendors and white tents around the perimeter, a bit off-putting but we got off the bikes and sat in the shade with a cappuccino for a bit, scarfing down a piece of chocolate cake and some homemade fruit cookies. Folks in native costume arrived for a dance performance on a small stage in the plaza. We watched and enjoyed as the day slipped into night.
People stared intently at us, but always broke into big smiles if we smiled, and the place had a good feel to it.
It was late when our host, Bruno, texted us a location pin and we headed up into a dark and isolated neighborhood of huge homes. It seemed odd, but the electric gates to an isolated home opened and welcomed us in. Bruno was a guy in his 30's, a world traveler and professional sand volleyball player who lived in Italy much of the year. With my suspicious mind, it seemed odd that a young guy could have such a huge home in a new neighborhood, a new 4x4 and travel so much. Your mind plays tricks and he finally told us his father and he owned a construction company and this was the model home. We stayed up late talking history and the culture of Mexico, Bruno filled with pride of his heritage.
He left early but showed us how to get out of the estate through the steel gates, and we rolled out to spend the day in Patzcuaro. There are three large islands in the lake nearby, Isla Janitzio being the main one and we decided to take a boat ride over for the morning. Ravenous for breakfast we found some street tacos near the docks that were absolutely the best food we've had yet in Mexico. We waited a while for a tour bus load to get their tickets and on board the little ferries to the island before proceeding.
The old boat pilot was training the young boy - maybe his grandson - to eventually take over the business
A strange sound from the prop
Fisherman still ply the lake in canoes with nets, but now they mainly catch tips from tourists
Kids waiting on the dock for the tour boats to arrive. The little bastards.
The boat ride over was a bit stifling since the heat was already up for the day, but the island had a charm to it. Though touristy, it was pretty, with very steep twisted streets and the peak was adorned with a huge monument.
We took an ice cream break and an older gentleman, a professor from Mexico City, struck up conversation, inevitably turning to Trump. We talked for a long time before leaving for the climb to the top of the island.
The steps lead up through a maze of vendors, cocinas, and stores, Kim sampling her first batch of whole-fried minnows straight from the lake. Tasty indeed! I barely got any, once she tried the first one.
Mucho Pozolé
On the way up, a shriveled old lady sitting in a doorway selling breads called to us, her weak voice just above a whisper. Kim looked at me with a sad face and I leaned in to hear her. She grabbed my hand and held tightly, saying much that I didn't understand. I knew she was selling breads, but she was saying "Dios!" and other things and not letting go. She had a strong grip and as I pulled gently to remove my hand from hers, the grip tightened to one of iron. I was in an awkward position, half twisted and leaning, and she pulled me in further. About to fall on her, all I wanted to do was buy some bread and escape, but she kept on talking, crushing my hand and pulling. After what seemed like 15 minutes I was able to convince her to let go for "dinero" and bought a loaf from her to escape.
I got robbed by a little old lady selling bread! And I didn't even see it comin!
I was a bit ticked at the hard sell and said "foto" when I gave her the money, getting a shot or two. Man, did she have a strong grip and a great schtick for robbing tourists! I'd wanted to just pull my hand free, but figured she'd have fallen over and the locals would have seen a big gringo having tossed a sweet old lady to the sidewalk. The next scene would have been Kim and I being carried, bound, to the ruins at Tzintzuntzan to be sacrificed on the high altar. All in all I think it was a better deal to just accept the larceny.
At the top of the island, we watched people and looked over the haze filled valley, spotting a road down the backside. As we walked down, Kim spotted some overhead cables that stretched way down and across to the next island, quite far away.
As we wound a bit further down, lo and behold, one of the lines was a zip-line from Isla Janitzio to the next island over, Tecueno. We watched as two guys did the run, the distance being so far the lines were invisible. Later I measured the distance on the map and it was just over a kilometer!
Hardest working construction workers! It's been interesting watching building in Mexico. All by hand and strong backs carrying everything up steep slopes and rickety handmade ladders.
Kim was caught by a large fresh fish near the docks
The boat trip back was a slow and sleepy ride, occasionally catching a gust of cool breeze or the tiniest bit of spray through a window, the heat, humidity and haze slowly swallowing Isla Janitzio into it's gray grasp as we made Patzcuaro for the night.
