flâneur: “from the French masculine noun flâneur—which has the basic meanings of "stroller", "lounger", "saunterer", "loafer"… or "a person who walks the city in order to experience it". (wiki.com)
la flâness: sexier, female version of the above.Archive for March, 2010
Dusty Roads to Zacatecas – and Falling into the Nook
My morning transfer in Durango was a breeze, especially considering I was pretty much sill awake from the day before.
But on this (less-crowded, slightly slower, less winding, less bumpy) trip I was finally able to ge some sleep. Five hours, and… GO! Though, after a fews days (and not quite enough ime to suffice my beach-lust entirely) I was freezing in the higher altitudes as we got further from Durango!
I only openned my eyes a few time to peek out at the dusty norteño towns we were passing. The looked quaint, standing as they were is the very dry, only slightly hilly land. I got out at the Fresnillo stop – it looked just too Western not to! Like in the movies!! And I kind of wished I would stop there for a few days just to see what on earth was there! But I figured, being alone as I was, and it being as… well, smallish and dusty-ish and enirely devoid of travellers… as cool as that sounds… that I`d get bored rather quickly and shouldn`t bother. Maybe one day!
It was mostly women and children on my bus for the first few hours; I was the only one for the hour or so.
After all this travel inward – ie. away from my beloved coast! – pulling into the seemingly sleepy hills of Zacatecas was rather disappointing. Another colonial city; more winding cobblestone streets. And it`s cold! “Blah!“ was all I could think. I contemplated ditching my bag at the station, wandering for the day, and catching anoher (16-hour!) bus to Veracruz on the Gulf Coast that night.
But my cab driver assured me I would slip in to Zac`s easy and comfortable nook before long. It was Semana Santa, after all, and time for the city`s biggest cultural festival! (How did I not know??!!) There would apparently be “shows of all kinds, day and night, arts and entertainment, and not to mention big parties!“ And had I “heard about the Cabaretas?“ he asked me. These are the Mescal-bearing Mules that are available for rent in the nights… because it is illegal to carry alcohol in the streets here in Zacatecas, these donkeys can do it for you! What a tempting thought! I contemplated staying.
This contemplation was finalized the moment I waslked into Hostel Villa Colonial (Primero de Mayo, 201)! It was so immediately welcoming – its bookshelves, it`s little overhead lounge-nook with a TV, the awesome owner at the front desk who showed me around… a massive rooftop terrace, a nice kitchen and unlimited coffee. I loved it! It would be the perfect place to chill out for a couple days and do some writing, reading and picture uploading, before heading over the the Gulf Coast.
I was bedless for the better half of the morning, however (I`d gotten there fairly early and those from the nigh before had yet to clear out)… so I took the opportunity to tiredly wander through town (try to get in the nook), and grab couple staples at the mercado (market). It dawned on me for the first time since I`d been in México that – though I love them dearly – I may enjoy something other than veggie tacos for supper that evening. And for lunch.
The streets were packed with people, though I had a feeling the festival hadn`t really started up yet. Gorgeous cafes terraced in floor, after floor of old buildings were bustling by the main cathedral around the corner from my hostel, and the plazas were packed with the most artsy-fashionable ciy people I`d seen in México yet! I was impressed at all the women walking he cobblestones in heels (and missed my own at home so badly…). There were dozens of silver shops, and outdoor stands for souvenirs, books, and dulces regionales (HUGE in the entire West of México!) everywhere.
My grocery trip was a success! The Zacatecas market was my fave yet! I picked up a round of papaya, mago, pineapple and blackberries (umm, all in season!??) outside, then headed in for some bulk granola, almonds, pecans, and cranberries for snacks… and yogurt for brekky. I bypassed the amazingly fresh, outdoor fish section (which appeared to be fresher than the stinky fish market in seaside Mazatlan), mostly ou of laziness, and picked up a bag of fresh-cut cactus to sir fry up and have with the other veggies and tortillas I`d brought with me from Mazatlan yesterday. And some canned tuna for good measure.
Terrace – coffee - nap. Then I`d check out a bit more of Zacatecas.
Do Not Take the Nightbus from Mazatlan to Durango!
I did this en route to Zacatecas. I would have to transfer buses in the morning in the Norteño city of Durango. All cowboy hats and tumbleweeds. Old Westerns were often shot here! Shame I was only passing through!
This would be much better as a day trip – in a bus or in your own vehicle. Though the driving is tough, so be cautious when navigating this route yourself.
Though it`s a long ride, the bus whips around precarious bends in the road at lightening speed… most of the journey is spent on cliffs perched up high in the mountains!
This is not only the safest, nor the most comfortable route (I fell off my seat countless times while the driver flew around the roads twists and turns at some ridiculously high speed… and didn`t sleep a wink!)… but more than that, it is so gorgeous that a night bus is just robbing yourself of an entire 10-hour chunk of México!
I could see mountain tops and cliffs in the distance… we were so high! he view was unbeatable! But still hard to make out in the night. Much of México is hilly, or mountainous, but this part was different. Really something special.
The route from Mazatlan to Durango is legendary for it`s pictuesque landscapes, and runs right through the Sierra Madre Occidental mountain range. I knew this before I went, but opted instead to save myself the time and money, and enjoy an extra day in the sunshine. Bad move.
In fact, the route is so incredibly stunning, that I would recommend it as a fantastic alternative to Cooper Canyon – if either you are strapped for cash and would prefer not to pay to take the CHEPE train; or if you simply enjoy a less fixed itinerary, or have less time to travel North.
If you have a car, this would make a fantastic few day camping trip. The drives are incredible and there are so many places to stop and check out along the way. Good road map in hand, and a Spanish-speaker in your group to chat with locals in the small communities there for suggestions. Of course, a cautious driver is more than necessary.
Coloured Sounds of Mazatlan
Another perk for Hotel Lerma? The sound of the typewriter clicking away in the first floor window… I love it. I heard it when I was out getting my breakfast – huevos revueltos*, chilaquiles**, fresh tortillas and instant coffee - from the old lady across the street.
Later that day, I tripped and fell over a tope - tall and pointy Méxican speed bumps.
The beach was teeming with vibrantly-coloured kites and the shrieks of the small children flying them. The people below kept one eye on them at all times – the occasional misguided kite would come firing down without warning.
The faint smell of just caught fish mixed with sunscreen. The breeze was just cool and constant enough to refreshing.
Méxican families – local and tourist – and couples and packs of teenage boys strutting “tough“ packed every inch of the sand. Mariachis singing to picnicking families in front of endless seafood restaurants with palapa roofs. Semana Santa was beginning to unfold. The beach was oozing enjoyment!
I sit alone, reading my book: muy tranquillo.
The action that surrounds me is intoxicating! Yet somehow I`m more mellow for it. I wonder if I`ll return here at some other point in my life. Different places are for different people, and for different times. Mazatlan is a killer family vacation spot, for one week or more - with it`s long beaches, malecon, party scene, yummy seafood… its colonial architecture and pulsing city-feel. Something for everyone!
I melt into my spot in the sand and breathe.
…
The kids take over many parts of the beach, and then some parts are just suddenly and entirely abandoned and tranquil.
Then at the end of the Zona Dorada (after Senior Frogs – Mazatlan`s favorite bar and merchandise provider! – and where the beach curves to the right), the infamous Joe`s Oyster Bar gets most of the action. It sits right on the beach and is rammed – RAMMED – with people (many underage in Canada…) by the time I get there around five thirty or so. Everyone is here to party for Semana Santa! They spill out onto the beach, hang over the sides and dance on tables! There is one older (though only about 35 or 40) blonde-ish foreign couple perched on the side. They are looking around with delighted faces… but seem to be questioning what exactly it is they`ve fallen into! Méxican SPRING BREAK BABY!!
This may just be the Méxicans` Cancun!
The beach surrounding Joe`s however, is sick. Groups of people party there, drink beer and camp out all day – either leaving their trash there or tossing empty beer cans into the ocean… which just either washes them onto the already nasty shore or sweeps them out to sea. It`s a disaster, even with the few city workers there to clean up. THIS is sick.
But the ceviche I eat on the malecon on the way home cheers me right up… and I head home to shower and pack my things. Another overnight bus. My beach break is over – I`m headed in-land to Zacatecas.
…
*scrambled eggs
**traditional Méxican breakfast food of cooked torilla chips in tomatoe sauce and chillis
Break Time: Turning Points and Resort Life in Mazatlan
I woke up around 11 or 12, and already felt at home in my little blue room in Hotel Lerma. I was refreshed! And decided it was time to get up, get out, and get some brekky. Time for my day to begin.
I wandered the area where I was staying – I was in Old Mazatlan; not quite downtown, and not yet part of the Zona Dorada (the Golden Zone of hotels and touristy amenities). All of Old Mazatlan – from the Market to the Boardwalk (Mazatlan is famous for its long Malecon, always filled with strollers, rollerblading tourists and bikers*) – seemed only to have fish and ceviche for sale… which was not the breakfast food I was looking for. I ended up getting a licuado (smoothie) at a Greek stand (?) in the far part of the market, close to downtown) to tide myself over as I wandered the hectic and picturesque colonial streets to the South end of the Malecon.
The smell of fish crept up on me (somehow, in a good way…), and I knew I was approaching the Malecon. Fishermen lined the entire thing, catching and selling their fresh goods to restaurants and passersby.
The beach downtown was small and relaxed, with several tourists and locals wasting away a perfect mid-afternoon in the sun. I walked back up towards my hotel beside the beach, on the Malecon, passing the many sculptures, restaurants, bars and souvenir vendors along the way – Mazatlan seemed to have endless picture-perfect viewpoints. Families, couples holding hands and police men on bicycles traversed the Malecon.
I ended up grabbing a simple egg, bean, tomato and tortilla breakfast for $35 pesos across from Hotel Lerma, made fresh by the cutest old lady. I promised my self I would go there again tomorrow morning.
I decided to take it with me for some down time at a little drive-through cafe called Caffino I`d spotted on the Malecon, that had internet and yummy flavoured lattes, American style.
It was decision time for me – I`d reached the point in my trip where I had originally planned to take the ferry over to the Baja Peninsula for a little adventure and to meet my friend and yoga instructor near Cabo San Lucas. I`d really wanted to go! I`d heard nothing but great things about the peninsula, and the landscape was supposed to be breathtaking, and unlike other areas in México! Besides, I was doing a full México trip! I almost needed to see it (I`d convinced myself)!
But I was running out of time and money (though I didn`t yet have a ticket home, I had an estimated time to meet a friend down South) and really didn`t want to rush any part of my trip. And I wanted to take Spanish lessons. And I lived in Canada – which, relatively speaking, isn`t so far away… AND I love California. So, because the ferry ticket was so expensive (about $85 American Dollars, one way!) and I`d likely have to rush myy time there anyway… I appeased myself by saying I`d do some crazy roadtrip there one day – hopefully West across Canada from Toronto, before heading down through California until I reached the Baja, minus the rest of México. One day!
Oh the joys of lone travel! No public consultation… just decisions based on my own wants and needs. Mmmm… this was new!
In celebration of actually making a decision (I`m notoriously bad for this!) I headed up the boardwalk a little, to enjoy a bit more of the day… and decided it was time to scout of my friend`s parents.
I ran home to change and caught another friendly pulmonia to the Riu Emerald Resort. It was ridiculously far – for everything that Mazatlan is (its gorgeous colonial architecture, it`s crazy Carnival, it`s laid back, very Méxican city-beach culture), it is best known for it`s 16kms of beach, stretching from the very pretty Olas Atlas (downtown Maz) through Old Maz and the slightly dirtier and more bustling Zona Dorada, and across through the newest resort spaces to the north. The Riu Emerald was at the far end of the new area, and though reachable by bus (the transportation here is great, and well connected) you would have to transfer in the Zona Dorada if coming from anywhere further South.
Luckily, I have honed my haggling skills over the years, and had asked the chicas at Caffino how much a pulmonia would cost to get there. I slightly understated that quoted price to the driver and assured him they (being locals!) had told me that was how much it should be. We agreed on something that suited both of us, and chatted about the city`s development in the little flying golf cart, all the way.
…
I pulled into the Riu Emerald… and the luxury oozed into me. It had been a while since I`d done anything really overly luxurious, and it was clearly time for me to appreciate this place a little. For sake of balance. 
I was happy and slightly flabbergasted… but I didn`t let the employees sense my excitement. I wanted to look like I belonged… precisely because I didn`t have a room, nor even a number for my friends, and would have to swindle my way past security somehow!
The Riu was the tallest, whitest palace on the strip – it`s spotless exterior solicited envy from all other beach and resort-goers; it`s exquisitely furnished marble interior sparkled with newly constructed luxury.
I looked up “Mis Padres de un Otra Hermana“ at reception (“My parents to another sister“… which I thought was funny but only inspired baffled looks from the people behind the desk) and called their room. Nobody answered.
I figured they were on the beach enjoying their last sunset in México… and somehow managed to get a bell boy to escort me around the entire complex to “search for them“ and essentially kill time until they got back to their room.
It worked! I checked out every last restaurant the place had (everything from martini bars, to pool-side lounges, to sushi, wine and steak, buffet and traditional Méxican), its many pools, its beach, and its common areas. An exquisite place… for a resort. But so very strange to be in… it didn`t at all feel like México in there (everyone was essentially Canadian). A trip away from my trip I suppose, a little transportation device home.
My otha Mum came down to pick me up after we eventually got a hold of her, and one by one the Poole`s kept me company in the front lobby while the other showered off their day and got ready for dinner. It was so nice to see them! The first familiar faces in a month or so… and some of my favorites! They treated me to an unlimited pass in their resort, which brought with it unlimited food, booze and luxury. I was stoked!
Dozens of fancy cocktails and martinis, a ridiculous feast, tons of fun, music and lots of love later, I found myself in another taxi on my way home with a sack full of booze from their all-inclusive hotel room. They insisted I take it – it was free, after all! I loaded up my closet at Hotel Lerma, with waterbottles of white rum (which I only once mistook for water!) and Dos Equis Cervezas. It occured to me that I likely wouldn`t drink it here, being on my own and on a little quiet break… but I resolved to bag it and take it with me to my next destination where I`d likely be staying in a hostel.
Thanks Pooles, for being so fun and awesome – you`re like second parents to me! And for giving me the luxurious break I needed to tide me over the next few months!
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*I wanted so badly to rent rollerblades or a bike here, but I found it very hard to find a place with rentals! Even many hotels and taxi drivers I consulted didn`t know where to get them! Though by the time I found this recommendation online, it was too late for me, if you are looking for a bike or blade rental try Kelly`s Bike Rental, at Avienda Camron Sabalo 204. Local 10. In the Zona Dorada.
Hotel Lerma, in Mazatlan
I arrived in sunny Mazatlan around six in the morning after my grueling overnight bus from Los Mochis.
Dewy morning sunshine seemed to float in the warm air. A very friendly pulmonia driver greeted me instantly – pulmonias are the new taxis here, and kind of like glorified golf carts that are allowed to drive on highways. He was nice enough to take me to each of the two hotels I`d been deciding between: The first, Hotel Rio, was slightly more expensive and very well recommended, but the second, Hotel Lerma, looked cute, and of course was cheaper. He cautioned me against taking the cheaper alternative - advice that I heeded respectfully – but after checking out my would-be room at Lerma, and meeting the kind family that owned it, I was sold. It seemed as safe as safe goes, though minimal, and had a wide courtyard in the centre. It was cute, clean, family oriented (though not something I normally opt for, here it added to the ambiance), and comfortable. Besides, the man was nice and was going to give me a great price ($120 pesos a night… about $10 Cdn. for my own cute little room with a private full bath and window), whereas Hotel Rio had already upped their prices for Semana Santa.
I hopped in bed for a morning nap… in the afternoon I`d check out the town, and try to get in touch with my best friend`s parents, who just happened to be in town for the week (it was their last night!) staying at a new and very ritzy resort up the beach.
No More Cooper, No More Cold! The Long Road to Mazatlan Without Panties
Saying goodbye to my Swiss Miss was tough!
I loved Panties, and she was the only one I`d travelled with so far! But, being as it was, we had always seen it coming exactly when it would… so without thinking too much, we hugged, took more wacky pics together (maybe fifty or so?), and I set off back South in hopes to warm my toes once again and meet some Torontonian friends in Mazatlan. The cool air in the high altitudes of Cooper Canyon had been rough on my delicate, beach-loving system…
Panties would stay in Las Barrancas for another day or two before (like most Euros) heading up North to discover the shining shores of California.
So I hopped on the CHEPE around 12PM (first class again! Damn tight schedule…), only hoping I would please catch a bus at a semi-decent hour out of Los Mochis. They were supposed to run every hour and a half or so…
I was lonely for the first hour or two until our favorite playful train conductor hopped on at… well, I`m not sure where exactly it was he hopped on at, but somewhere along the route South of Divisidero.
He spotted me instantly and came to sit down and chat a little.
The rest of the trip was essentially like that. Me reading, and sitting around in different places around the train; him finding me, and plopping down next to me doing everything he could to entertain.
He kind of looked like Slater, from Saved by the Bell, and joked around like him too. This all made my 11 hour journey so much more enjoyable.
Though as his Méxican-style flirtation increased in intensity (“chicitita (giggle), mamasita“, etc.) I grew slightly annoyed. “Why did guys have to be like that here?“ I wondered. “Always putting on a show! There is no way Méxican girls like this!“ But he was cute anyway. They always have to go and ruin it…
Then he snuck up behind me pretending to read over my shoulder a letter I was writing to a much cooler boy back home… though I didn`t think he could read written English. I blushed anyway. And then he kissed me.
In my seat! (I was laughing so hard in my head!) But he had a little conductors hat, and an outfit to match, so I took the experience in, and tried not to giggle out loud.
Besides, it got me an invitation to movie night in the last car, with the security guards with the big guns. And THAT made my trip just perfect. The time passed like it was nothing! I smiled at my good fortune, where I was, and at my most interesting day. I wanted Panties to be there so badly…
Later, I took an intermission from movie night and watched the sun set over the mountains from my first class seat on my CHEPE train ride. I looked around between the seats to try and determine which, if any, families had witnessed my illicit make-out session with Slater the CHEPE train conductor…
And by then we were only about an hour away from Los Mochis!
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…
I hopped a short cab ride with a couple friendly German dudes; we had wanted to split the price, but the driver just ended up making it more expensive because there were three of us! 
Lesson Learned: The prices for cab rides, especially from bus and/or train stations are essentially fixed, a lot of the time per person… and the drivers will gang up on you like some informal union to ensure they get the price originally quoted. Send one person up alone to negotiate a price, and you will be better off.
The Germans were spending the night here before heading to Mazatlan, whereas I meant to go right away, spending another night on a bus.
The CHEPE train, my ride, and the bus service was just all a little too efficient for me that evening… and because I didn`t want to arrive in Mazatlan at some ungodly time in the early morning, I decided to skip out on the first two buses that rolled through, and wait around Los Mochis` smallest, and sketchy-as-all-hell bus station for an extra two and a half hours to catch the latest bus.
Trying so very hard not to pass out, I read the Kite Runner as enthusiastically as I could and took long, deep breaths. Luckily, there was a sizable crew of young, loud and obnoxious Méxican guys around my age, who looked like they were heading out somewhere fun for Semana Santa - the week-long Easter Break here in Méx.
I was relieved to get onto my bus – it turned out to be packed full, and everyone was already sleeping. I slid in to a seat in the front to pass out, only to be sufficiently creeped out about an hour later, when I was woken up in the night by the assistant bus driver (and he was a close talker!) to `discuss my bus ticket`.
I was displeased. SO very displeased. But I figured it was the universe telling me that perhaps I`d simply had too much fun on my last long ride…
Creel y Las Barrancas del Cobre
Creel is a dusty, sleepy little place.
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The town`s epicentre are the railroad tracks that bring in CHEPE train twice daily, at a minimum. Quiet hotels, a few hostels, bars and restaurants, adventure companies and laundromats occupy the rest of the space in `downtown` Creel.
Tour guides, hotel owners, school kids and Tarahumara Indiginea make up most of the local population you`ll see on the streets. The Tarahumara seem to exist separately from the remainder of he population here; you will often see them selling fine artisanery, such as their colourful crafts and quilts, and they rarely smile.
The town`s saving grace is that it`s surrounded by some of the most beautiful and remote mountainous land in all of México. Apart from the CHEPE train (that was originally used to transport gold), there isn`t really any easy way in, or through this landscape. Creel, however, provides an easy and well situated base for day, and multi-day hikes through the many Canyons.
Most people opt for a tour, and don`t bother renting a car – the terrain is tricky and can be dangerous to navigate even for the most experienced off-road drivers! It is common to arrive in Creel, and plan your trip there. A lot of the tour companies are quite informal, though organized, and many visitors rely on finding other members to fill a group (and thus diminish the price per person) once at their hotel or hostel in Creel. For this reason, the town`s hostels are very popular (communal dinners are provided at most), as is Casa Margarita, a socially-oriented hotel with a bustling main courtyard (the hostel of the same name however, is incredibly unorganised, unhelpful, and slow to assist with any enquiries). If you have a group and time to wander around a bit (and either don`t mind carrying your bag, or leave it somewhere) a little walk around the streets, especially on the North side of the railway tracks, could land you a cheaper and cleaner accommodation… especially if you haggle for your price. Hotel owners here are generally quite friendly, and most can organise a good tour. The prices will be agreeable as well, especially if you have a group (of at least three) already.
Alternatively to booking your trips through your hotel or hostel, Los 3 Amigos offers the best, most knowledgable tours for equally fair prices.
Though I would have loved to do a two or three day tour into the bottom of one of the canyons, I only had a few days, and opted for variety instead. Two or three day tours also end to be more expensive as well, as they often include nicer accommodation in lodges in the basin. A nice older lady was kind enough to tell me that this was absolutely the highlight of her trip, and that I “really missed out“. I told her, “Thanks“. (Anyone sense my sarcasm?)
Panties and I opted for a relaxed day long tour where we hit the major mountain peaks and look out points. Great for pictures… though it was not terribly exciting being driven from point to point. We wished we could have done more hiking around. But we did get to see all the best views, the infamous `penis rock` and meet loads of Tarahumari locals and check out their crafts.
The other trip we opted for was less of a tour and more of a `drive`: we arranged with a man at our hostel to drive us to and from what we thought were `natural hot springs`. He dropped us at the main road and we were to walk all the way down to the springs, and then hike our way back up. We were happy to include the hiking we missed in our last tour, with HOT SPRINGS and relaxation. We were pumped!
We walked for about an hour down into the canyon – and the views were incredible – but when we got down to the springs we saw that they were not natural at all! Nor were they very hot…
It was more like rerouted water into what were clearly manmade pools, with a trickle of a waterfall running into it. But one was kind of warm – warm enough to keep us from shivering anyway – so we decided to enjoy what we could get and go to the hot tub at the gym in the Best Western later on (they only charge you $100 pesos or so to use the facilities).
…
There was one really good bar in town with live music that everybody recommended. It`s packed with tourists and locals alike. It`s on a corner, on the main street, Mateos; and though I`ve forgotten the name, you`ll hear about it, no question, if you do find yourself in Creel. If you don`t, it will likely be the only one with any real action, so just listen up!
…
Though we did wish for more time, we were happy to get to Las Barrancas when we did. For now, it is a pretty obscure destination on the overall tourist trail – for México travel or simply hiking and outdoor tripping in general. The US of A has lef us to believe the Grand Canyon is the be all, end all of North American canyon trekking, but in fact Cooper Canyon is wider, and deeper… and harder to traverse.
For now, it`s mostly a cozy older crowd (mostly Canadians actually) retired or on the verge of, milling around Cooper Canyon. Being so close to Canada and the US, and relatively affordable, we figured Cooper will blow up in the next decade or so as an adventure destination, especially with the CHEPE train being as nice and fast as it is. This would change not only Creel, but also Los Mochis and Chihuahua (at the Northern end of the CHEPE rail line) entirely… not to mention the local populations, most of all the Tarahumari Indians who already seem to be sick of selling their work to the curious tourists snapping their pictures.
But, I must say… the Canadian Rockies are way better…
A Vacation from My Vacation: Epic Last Night in San Blas
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“We`ll just disappear for a week!“
That was the idea when I first met Panties here on our Jungle Beach. A Vacation from our vacation. And it turned out to be more than that!
San Blas is so far removed from everywhere else we were; and to get out one would have to take the long and humid busride through the jungle back to Tepic… which is a trek. We were here for the full week – with a lovely feeling of being completely stranded. And as I look back upon it with a memory fogged up with chemical creams and intense heat that made me constantly anxious… it really does seem to me like a hazy little escape.
Our friends and our dinner parties were a bonus. And our last night was an epic goodbye to this strange and magical place!
We all got a little dressed up for the affair (and by all, I mean Panties and I; and by dressed up, I mean we added feathery earings to our normal attire).
Our usual crew showed up, augmented by the neighbor of the house Philo was housesitting… for good measure. He was quite a bit older, but full of stories; he brought along heeps of old photographs from his worldly adventures through the years.
We`d all picked up a selection of things from the market earlier to bring for the party… and we ended up with way too much food! We had maybe six glorious courses of everything from chilli rellanos, to guacamole, salsa and spicy stir-fried shrimp with hard tortillas (mine!)… and much more!
Everything was too spicey (we`d overestimated our integration into true Méxican culture) but oh so delicious. Margaritas, red wine, cerveza, games and horrible TV satellite music fueled the first half of the evening… and we had a blast!
Then – though I`m not entirely sure how`d we`d managed to invite them - a lovely crew showed up to join the evening`s festivities! A lovely blonde, female Berliner, a nice Canadian man with a guitar and a great voice who reminded me of one of my Dad`s friends (and home!)… and a group of incredible Méxican singers from the restaurant in town: WalaWala.
Our music scene was instantly upgraded! We had Led Zeplin and the Eagles (for me, from my fellow Canadian), augmented with Méxican cheers to keep a sense of place… and rounds of traditional Méxican songs compliments of our professionals! It was a great scene… and I even slow danced to one the most romantic Méxican boleres (ballads) I have ever heard. A new favorite. Sabor a Mi (Flavour of Me). A little cheesy… but makes my heart melt!
I havn`t a clue what time we cleared out of there… but it was after another few dance parties, a wacky dance circle (begrudgingly, on my part, to 80`s satellite). We biked it back to Stoner`s by around 4AM… some went to bed, but Idaho, Tas, Blonde German Chici 1, and I headed for the beach.
Just as I was about to pack it in, a bare body of a friend whipped by me with lightening speed! He dove into the ocean without a care in the world and I just couldn`t stop laughing. Then he shrieked out to me something about glowing plankton (I`d only ever seen them in full force in the Beach, the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio)! I haveno idea how he`d known, but I was sold. The others disappeared but I dove right in in my PJs!
The further out you swam the brighter they shined! For hours I dove and splashed with my fun loving friend – though keeping a little bit of distance from his naked self… haha! Every time I stood up in shallower water and touched he material of my shirt or shorts, they would glow with algae! SPARKLE! IT WAS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE!
We laughed harder together than I had in a long time and called out hilarious things from across the deserted waters. And I remembered for real why I spend all my money travelling. THIS is the stuff of life. The random special stuff that will let me look back and smile always, and leave this world a glowing and happy person! No question! WHY WOULD I BE ANYWHERE ELSE?
So thank you, Philo, for being such a crazy and observant little nutbag. You made my night!
…
(2) to prove that I am still part of your life.
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Tanto tiempo disfrutamos de este amor
For so long we have enjoyed this love
Nuestras almas se acercaron tanto así
our souls got so close
Que yo guardo tu sabor
that I keep your taste (1)
pero tu llevas tambien
but you also carry
sabor a mí
a taste of me
Si negaras mi presencia en tu vivir
If you would deny my presence in your life
bastaría con abrazarte y conversar
it would suffice to embrace you and to talk (2)
Tanta vida yo te di
so much (of my) life I gave to you
que por fuerza tienes ya
that you cannot help but having
sabor a mí
a taste of me
No pretendo ser tu dueño
I am not trying to be your owner
No soy nada, yo no tengo vanidad
I am nothing, I have not vanity
De mi vida, doy lo bueno
Of my life, I give the good (the best)
Soy tan pobre que otra cosa puedo dar?
I am so poor, what else can I give?
Pasarán mas de mil años
A thousand years may pass
muchos más
many more
Yo no se si tenga amor la eternidad
I dont know whether love exist in eternity
Pero alla tal como aquí
But there just as here
en la boca llevaras
in the mouth you will carry
sabor a mí
a taste of me
I Can be the Other Half to Your Orange, Baby
Puedo ser tu media naranja, o tu esprimidor.
(I can be your love, or I can be your squeezer)
Someone said this to me…
Discussions of Feet and Fate.
Memories of San Blas.
And favorite new sayings…
