Well, let's see where this goes. So much has been going on since we arrived and I have not been writing about it. No particular reason, just living, walking, visiting, looking, scribbling. Dinners with friends, including a lovely evening at the Eco-Hotel on the Estribo (a beautiful stretch of land along a ridge overlooking farmland below Patzcuaro). So nice, so much fun, too much laughing. Forgot my hat when we left, so Becky and I HAD to return the next morning for hotcakes and more vista. A dinner at Susan and Andy's at their spectacular place on Calle Jose Abad overlooking Patz and the lake and the islands and volcanoes and churches and biblioteca and fireworks. Cocktails at Susan and Andy's with Lon and Santiago then dinner at Mistongo with music. Amazing dinner at Bob and Rosa's with Didier, Andy, Susan, Artemio and Sylvia...so good, so inspiring. Much plans for future adventures, including Sunday in Tacambaro with a picnic and maybe swims in a crater. Walked down to the Plaza yesterday with Andy to see a beautiful competition between two school bands in front of the ex-Colegio. Tough, beautiful bands facing off drumming and much blowing of horns. Very militaristic, orchestrated, strong. When the decision was announced, Patzcuaro's band won and was elated, shaking hands and screaming with joy while the losing team burst into tears but dutifully played on, defeated but proud. Playing background music while the victor's danced, slapped backs, and shook hands. So sad, so emotional. Today, Becky and I walked down to a new little organic market on Dr. Cos. Bought homemade baguettes and pizzas and empanadas and organic chicken. Yum. Becky walked up while I walked on and towards the Libramiento in search of inspiration along the rough little by-pass around town. Walked for an hour or so and saw mostly muffler shops, tire repair shops, radiator repair shops, lumber yards, viveros, marisco stands, and one hundred hand painted signs. I kept one hand on my hat and a finger on the shutter release. Kept crisscrossing the road over and back again, shooting tires and muffler men and squid and pulpo, trying not to get run over, imagining a future book featuring fragments of it all. Tires, retread tires, have been on my mind since we started driving in Mexico. Vulca, Vulcanizadora, Vulka, pronounced "Boolka." Definitely on my mind this trip. Heck if I know why...guess I just like the sound of it, the look of it, poorly handpainted in white letters on a black rubber tire. Last year, clutches and brakes; this year, tire repair. Yep.
