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July 6th. We mutually decided, without speaking to each other, to sleep in a bit. Here in the highlands of Mexico, you just assume it’s chilly outside each morning. We never really found out because none of us got out of bed. We were awake but… At 10, I finally braved the front door. Damn, it was nice outside. Cancel the chill warning.
It was a quick collectivo trip to the center of Patzcuaro. 21 pesos, by the way, total. That’s 12 cents each. In town we attacked the local market, found our new friend Sergio, and feasted on his versions of fried fish, chicken cordon bleu, puerco en salsa and agua jaimaca. Now that I look at it, the combinations are a bit insane. Eh, so what. His salsa made everything tie in together.
After brunch, (a word which I believe has no Spanish equivalent), we caught a collectivo to El Lago. On the way we noticed the protests had moved into the city. This time, they were taking on the trains. “Son cabrones, si?” (No, I won’t translate.) The protestors stacked railroad ties as barricades as well as they themselves on the tracks. I first looked for dynamite or a damsel, tied to the tracks but, neither was found.
At the lake in Patzcuaro, there are very long, slow boats to take you to Janitzio, the main island with a 45 degree climb to anything. At the peak is a monument to Sr. Morelos, a revolutionary hero that you will find an image of on any 50 peso bill. We eventually made it to the top of the cone shaped island and celebrated with oxygen, waters and beer. Along the way the island is covered with restaurants, crafts or stairs. Nice place but if you are not willing to exert, you’re not going to see much.
The monument for Sr. Morelos is designed to go inside and climb. I have been here before so I sent Shawn and Sharon to the top in return for a photo op.
After 3 or 4 hours, we trekked downward to the boats. One was named “Titanic”. Uh, we chose the other, whatever it was called. The ride back was enhanced with decent live music, waves from the impending storm and general comradery from all that were involved.
Against our intent, we retired to the hotel with plenty of daylight left. It’s 7 pm and I have cracked open another tequila. I look around and see the rest of my party sacked in for the night.
Really? Guess I’ll sit here and write a blog.
