Dec 10-22, 2007
Durango is a big bustling cowboy town with 500,000+ inhabitants. Founded in 1563 by conquistadors, its original economy was based on one of the world’s richest iron ore deposits and silver from the Sierra Madre, but now on agriculture and timber. Over 120 movies have been shot here mostly westerns. The evening I arrived the plaza was full of thousands of people most there to watch a glitzy parade totally composed of Coca-Cola trucks festooned with lights and Coke floats with polar bears. A neighborhood south had troops of dancers, one was in elaborate religious costumes and the other in Indian outfits with feather headdresses. The next morning I took pictures of the cathedral, built between 1695 and 1750, with its imposing baroque façade and vast Byzantine interior, the lovely plaza with fountains, and the Municipal Government building with wonderful colorful murals. Unfortunately the very good Museum of Anthropology was closed on Monday. The incredible mess from the previous nights parade had been completely cleaned up. I saw no other gringos and this is certainly off the tourist beat. Somebody stole my front license plate – they unscrewed the Mexican flag plate above my BC plate, took the BC plate and replaced the flag plate! I later figured out (weeks later when it was too late to retrieve it) that this was the police. I had parked illegally and they remove your license plate to ensure that you pay the fine.
Mexican people themselves are very clean and well groomed. Grocery stores are full of cleaning products. Wherever you go women are washing clothes and clothes are festooned on lines and barbed wire fences. However they seem to have no compunction about throwing garbage wherever they like. This provides lots of work for the many people sweeping plazas, sidewalks and the streets themselves. I’ve even seen crews cleaning up the ditches on this trip.
The 300 km drive to Zacatecas crossed the high central plateau, The desert had many cactus and Joshua trees like SW California. I detoured into the town of Plateros, about 60kms NW of Zacatecas. The 18th century church’s altar contains El Santo Nino, an image of the infant Jesus wearing a feathered hat. A series of rooms is lined with thousands of altarpieces, letters and clothing giving thanks to Santo Nino for all manner of miracles. A man crawled on his knees up the stairs and down the centre of the church to the altar. The surrounding streets are lined with hundreds of stalls selling food and gaudy religious artifacts especially of Santo Nino. This was religion commercialized to the utmost. Men were hailing me to park so that they could presumably sell me some religious schtick – it was all quite unbelievable.
Zacatecas (elevation 2445m, population 120,000), was one of Mexico’s fabled silver cities, producing 20% of Spain’s silver. It is a beautiful and fascinating city with many fine colonial buildings along narrow, winding stone streets at the foot of a rock-covered hill called Cerro de la Bufa. It is a Unesco World Heritage site. There is no cement or pavement – the sidewalks are tight jointed smooth stone tiles and the roads are rougher rock. I turned to go down to the centre of town – oh, oh! I ended up on the narrowest, steepest streets in the world! Barely escaping camper death, I surprisingly found a parking spot on a very busy street. The traffic is bumper to bumper (its nickname is the city of first gear), parking is impossible and the sidewalks and plazas are crowded. Enough out of the way, there were few tourists (I only saw 3 gringos in 3 days). The Cathedral is perhaps Mexico’s most stunning. Built of pink granite between 1729 and 1752, no expense was spared by the city’s affluent silver barons. Baroque in its final churrigueresque phase, the main façade had very detailed carvings with depictions of Christ, god and the 12 apostles. The south and north facades were also spectacular. The interior is refreshingly plain but huge.
The other tourist sites were the Municipal Government and State Government offices with murals, Theater Calderon, Temple of Santa Domingo with its 10 gilded altars built in the 1740s, and the Pedro Coronel Museum. He was an affluent artist who donated his large art collection and artifacts from all over the world. One of Mexico’s best art museums, represented are Picasso, Braque, Chagall, Hogarth, and many other artists, and pre-Hispanic Mexican artifacts and pieces from Japan, India, Africa, China and many other places. Returning to the truck in the late afternoon, it was gone!! Keeping calm (you know me), finding where it had been towed, and paying the parking fine (47 pesos) and the towing fee (300 pesos) was a real treat as nobody spoke English. I drove to the top of la Bufa to the large parking lot. I’d found home with a spectacular view and built in exercise program. A cable car (Teleferico) goes to the top but I resisted using it. The small church with its fine stone walls and courtyard and imposing statues of revolutionary figures on horses were very nice in this city where everything is very nice. I went down the stairs and tortuous winding streets in the dark (I’d been here before in my truck) to have dinner with several beers and watch the show in the plaza with its nativity scene set amidst lit plastic palm trees. Still sweating from my piquante meal, I luckily (using all my route finding skills from a life of hiking), found my way back up the few thousand feet. With drumming, bands and fireworks echoing from below, I settled into a well deserved date milkshake and a movie in the camper.
Getting up at dawn, I climbed to the top of the rock to watch sunrise. With a lot of financial business to do (I am getting completely out of the US stock market before it implodes – the sub prime housing market is just the tip of the iceberg in a country with $ten trillion of foreign debt and a war mongering president; I am buying gold), I descended to email and fax documents. Bush hides behind a veil of Christianity thinking nothing of all the death and mayhem he, the oil companies and vast military-industrial complex are causing in the world. Being a devout atheist, I find the arrogance of many Christians amazing as they believe they have a monopoly on all the values we cherish – forgiveness, generosity, and a higher moral plane. How he can justify ignoring the health and education needs of his citizens to produce more weapons is intolerable. Everyday, I think how lucky we are to live in the best country in the world (not withstanding our government’s pathetic and embarrassing environmental policies pandering to Alberta oil).
The Museum of Zacatecas showcased the indigenous Huichol (wee-chol) people with good photographs and much of their weaving, yarn pictures, and beadwork (beads and yarn are pressed onto wax figures to produce incredible patterns). I went to the opera in the Teatre Calderon with its four balconies and enjoyed the comedy in Spanish even though I understood nothing. I spent my third day walking all over and visiting many other sites including an art museum and the Mina el Eden. This mine was the source of Zacatecas’ wealth and was in operation from 1548 to 1966. The tour is on level four with levels 5-7 flooded. We entered on a miniature train and exited on the highest level by elevator. The mine honeycombs the mountain with multiple shafts and stopes going everywhere. It is a high class tour with a guide who repeated everything in English. The indigenous workers slaved under horrific conditions with a very high death toll. Zacatecas is a tourist destination not to be missed. December 12 was an important day – the Virgin of Guadalupe day in all of Mexico, Phil Stang’s (Barb’s dad) 80th birthday and the 2nd anniversary of my heart operation curing my atrial fibrillation.
I decided to take another detour to the NE to visit Real de Catorce (pop 1500, elevation 2756m), once a wealthy mining town of 40,000, then abandoned and now slowly being revived by wealthy Mexicans and Europeans. The indigenous Huichol people make annual 400 km pilgrimages from their homeland SW of Zacatecas to a mountaintop just outside Real de Catorce where they consume peyote and have religious visions. After a 300 km drive across flat cactus strewn desert, one turns south on what must be the world’s longest cobblestone street at 24kms (the cobbles are in six wide rows separated by five narrow bands of larger rocks). As it was very rough, I risked dropping the camper at the side of the road. After the spectacular road, one goes through a rugged 2.3km tunnel that was just wide enough for the truck in places and certainly too low for the camper. The town’s stone buildings are built on a steep hillside – many are in ruins but many have been renovated into hotels, restaurants and homes. The rough cobblestone streets are incredibly steep and narrow. There are horses and burros in many yards and their excrement everywhere. The church was very impressive and attracts thousands of pilgrims to view the miraculous image of St Francis of Assisi on one of the altars. A room is full of retablos – small pictures depicting some life threatening situation from which St. Francis had rescued the victim. Car accidents and medical operations are common themes. I slept under the stars in the back of my truck woken up often by a braying jack burro intent on fornicating with all the jennies roaming the lot.
I started walking before sunrise to climb the Montana Sagrada (Sacred Mountain) of the Huichol. The many roosters in most yards competed with others with a cacophony of crowing. With vague instructions from a Swiss shopkeeper, it took 1 1/2 hours to get to the top. It was easy to see why these Indians chose this place. On the NW edge of the local mountains, it is high enough to catch early sunrise light and its small, narrow, 150 yard long top drops precipitously many thousands of feet to the vast plain below. I could see 100 km to the south, west and north. There were stone rings, a tiny stone chapel and religious paraphernalia but no peyote. This was a very special, spiritual place. Returning to town, I went to the abandoned bullring, original church and cemetery. It was an obstacle course around graves to get to the front door of the church. The walls were painted with religious scenes, now faded and chipped and paper streamers draped across the narrow building. The cemetery was typical of most Mexican cemeteries with elaborate above ground graves adorned in gaudy plastic flowers. The old mint had been converted into an art gallery. I was impressed with the collection of photographs of the Mexican side of the Tijuana/San Diego border fence, and of Diego Rivera (the famous Mexican artist and muralist) with his wife Frida Kahlo, instantly recognizable by the presence of her unibrow. I walked east up to an old ghost town and mine. There were tourists everywhere many on horses as part of tours. There were an incredible number of ruins with cactus growing from the crumbling rock walls. Real de Catorce, even though it is out of the way, is another must see in mainland Mexico.
I drove south 200kms to San Luis Potosi (population 700,000, elevation 1860m), the regional capital of the state of the same name and now a major industrial centre. Its historic centre has fine colonial buildings, many pedestrian streets and a lovely elegance. With throngs of traffic and no parking, I lucked out to get a parallel parking space bordering a large park. Hauling my computer, I sat on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant on the main plaza and skyped with Terry and sent off a few emails. Walking around I visited several magnificent cathedrals and plazas. All had historical descriptions in English. After a street supper of tortas (sandwiches of meat, onions and hot sauce), kernel corn in a cup with mayonnaise, queso (cheese), and chili powder, churros and a chocolate milkshake, I wandered down to Plaza del Carmen where thousands were seated in front of San Luis’ most spectacular structure, the churrigueresque Templo del Carmen (1749-64). The vividly carved stone façade, the splendid golden altar and a roof with a riot of small plaster figures and colorful religious paintings were quite magnificent. I ended up standing behind the four drummers for a truly front row view. The outstanding show consisted of many varieties of dancers – an Indian wearing a coyote cape, fire dancers, stilt dancers in gaudy clown outfits, tumblers, indigenous dancers with conical hats topped with feathers, several types of folk dancers dressed in brilliantly colored outfits, a belly dancer, more indigenous dancers and a ballet troupe. The show ended with religious scenes projected onto the façade of the church and cloth “balloons” powered by actual fires. It was one hell of a show and I felt blessed to be exposed to such a cultural feast. I finished off the night with French fries topped with deep fried sausage and tomato juice! The next day I was kicked out of my parking spot by the parking police at 7AM as my rig was too big. At that time of day I easily found another. I spent one more day wandering around.
Leaving early in the morning, on a four lane highway, I ripped off part of the plastic cover on my air conditioner on a surprisingly low overpass – nothing that a plastic garbage bag and three rolls of duct tape couldn’t fix. I felt lucky to have not brought my kayak as it would have been destroyed. The next stop was Aquacalientes (population 1,000,000, elevation 1800m) about 200 km away. This became one of my favorite big cities with its colonial buildings and many very clean pedestrian streets. The two main streets had been rerouted through tunnels under the historical district leaving minimal traffic and broad plazas. I was soon hustled by a very friendly man who had lived in Reno for 17 years and wanted to practice his English. We spent all day together touring the many ornate churches and museums. The city hall was in a magnificent colonial mansion (1665) with a great courtyard and murals depicting Aquacalientes role in the 1917 constitution that still governs Mexico. Two museums highlighted two of Mexico’s finest artists – Herran and Posada. Posada’s prints of the calvara (skull and skeleton) and social commentaries were displayed alongside the original zinc plates. The Templo del Encino contained 12 huge oil paintings of the ‘Way of the Cross’ and a black statue of Jesus that people believe is still growing. Like most churches in Aquacaliente everything was covered in gold leaf. This city is noted for its bullfights occurring during their month long festival in April and May.
The 230 km drive to Guadalajara cost a whopping 235 pesos in tolls. The countryside is rolling hills and trees with agricultural fields. The most common crop is blue agave, the base ingredient of tequila. Guadalajara is Mexico’s second largest city (population 5 million, elevation 1540m) and the birthplace of tequila, mariachi music, sombreros, and rodeos. The historic district is full of pedestrian malls, plazas and very friendly people. After touring the usual sites – cathedral (1558-1618), and the Regional Museum of Guadalajara (a must see museum with its large collection of pre-Hispanic artifacts, and stunning photography of Bolivian mining), I toured the Mercado Libertad – three stories of shopping covering 2 blocks where you can buy anything, mostly Mexican schtick.
I drove 50kms NW to the town of Tequila (population 25,000, elevation 1219m) through large fields of blue agave. After a tour of the Tequila Museum that was all in Spanish, I went on the English tour of the Jose Cuervo distillery and saw more gringos than in the past month. The agave when planted is the size of an onion and when harvested 7-10 years later its heart can weigh 150 lbs. We tasted an unaged very harsh brand (meant to be mixed in drinks – the kind I seem to have most often drank) and then anejo or aged tequila that was very smooth and can cost as much as 2300 pesos for 26ozs. Tequila can only be grown in four Mexican states and must contain at least 51% agave. I enjoyed 3 small margueritas while talking to a nice couple from New Zealand. As I was finishing off this email in the truck parked on the street, I had three sweet little kids standing outside my window yapping at me. They take English in school but conversations were very limited – they got bored with me quickly. I think the whole town was drinking too much tequila last night – everybody including kids were up till midnight on the streets with music, a religious parade and fireworks. Noise bylaws would not work down here.
I’m going to Puerto Vallarta today to meet Terry on the 26th. To be honest, I am getting somewhat bored as most cities get repetitious. One can only visit so many churches, government buildings and museums. I wish there were more hiking and exploring to do but that seems to be hard to find. Being alone is also difficult. Wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
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