That which doesn't kill us merely postpones the inevitable.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Adventure At Home
Excuse me while I briefly interrupt your regularly scheduled Mexico vacation diary to bring you these snapshots of tonight's five mile canoe trip around the perimeter of Lake Martin in the dark. There's a new moon tonight so it was very dark, except for the stars and our head lamps and the light pollution from several nearby towns. And very quiet, except for the tree frogs, crickets, katydids, bullfrogs, night herons, and owls. Lots of alligators out, more than I've ever seen during the day. Their eyes light up freaky red when a head lamp hits them, but I wasn't able to get a photo.
I'm trying to incorporate more adventure into my post-vacation life, especially outdoorsy stuff like canoeing, hiking, and horseback riding. My camera's not very good at night photography, but you get a vague idea of the scene: silent canoes gliding across dark glassy water, passing ghostly cypress trees draped with Spanish moss. It was astonishingly beautiful. (That's Noble, a grad student from Budapest, riding my stern.)
Yet another perfectly gorgeous day! I rose with the sun and girded my loins for adventure with an artistic tropical fruit platter prepared by my beloved Jesus from a colorful array of locally grown papayas, star fruits, and melons. He also brought me a pot of steaming hot te negro con leche, a freshly squeezed pineapple-mango cocktail, and some of his fresh baked banana macadamia nut bread made from, you guessed it, the local Uruapan harvest du jour. Is it too soon to ask him to marry me?
Eduardo Ruiz National Park is less than ten meters from the hotel's door, so that's where I headed next.
This insanely lush, brilliant emerald green, tropical rain forest feels more like Costa Rica, or Brazil, or my wildest mystical jungle fantasies, than Mexico. And it is a horticulturist's wet dream. Majestic white Angel Trumpets of wild Brugmansia drape over shady trails that meander through galloping herds of giant banana trees alongside the rushing Cupatizio River. Sixty foot tall houseplants on steroids tower over it all, while wild red Poinsettias grow to be the size of houses. Wild orchids hang in purple clusters from the trees; wild bedding Impatiens billow in clouds of rampant color along the river banks. I mean, seriously, isn't that an unsettling oxymoron, "wild bedding Impatiens"? Sort of like "fierce packs of feral poodles roam the tundra."
But enough with all the jungle prose; I'll just tell you this magical place was beautiful beyond words and let some photos do the talking:
The afternoon's exciting adventure provided a striking contrast to the morning's dazzling tropical treasure chest. It entailed riding horseback from the Purepecha village of Angahuan, along a steep rugged trail in dry scrubby mountain terrain, to visit a former village that had been buried in lava from the 1943 eruption of Paracutin volcano. Black lava rock covered all but a few protruding remains of an old church.
(Note to self: MUST improve Spanish pronunciation. It's a truly sorry state of affairs when I try to say, "Help me! I am terrified of this crazy horse!" and it somehow comes out sounding like, "Hello, I am a world famous rodeo hotshot, please bring on the life threatening dangers.") Let me tell you, riding down the side of a steep rocky perpendicular cliff on Sr Caballo Loco was at times el trauma grande.
But in the end it was much more fun than scary, and the magnificent scenery was worth every moment of terror.
Another perfect day for traipsing around Morelia! Or for doing pretty much anything, for that matter. But traipsing happened to be my activity of choice, so after breakfast I traipsed on over to the Alfredo Zalce Museum of Contemporary Art. The museum is housed in an amazing 19th century French-influenced mansion located in the Bosque Cuauhtemoc, or Cuauhtemoc Forest (actually a big lovely mid-city park with lots of trees).
There is a permanent collection of Zalce's work here, but lots of other delectable delights for the eye were on display as well. It's a fabulous museum with thirteen exhibition rooms. I could have easily spent 15 or 20 years inhaling the colors.
Another room in the museum, with non-Zalces
Another non-Zalce. (Why the hell didn't I write down the names of the other painters? As if the entire art world is divided into two categories: Zalce and non-Zalce. Yeesh, I'm so embarrassed; my apologies.)
After a couple of heavenly hours at the museum (it would have been a lot longer if the gift ship hadn't been closed on Sunday), I traipsed over to a delightful cafe for a latte and cookie break (where I valiantly refrained from taking advantage of internet access). After that I traipsed over to the Jardin de las Rosas, a lively little urban plaza where bands were playing, children were gamboling, and local artists were displaying their work.
I was just traipsing along merrily minding my own business when I suddenly fell madly, insanely, head over heels in love with a half-finished painting that was still on its easel. The woman who was working on it turned out to be the well-known (though not by me at the time, because when it comes to art I was raised in a cave by wolves) Michoacan painter, Evangelina Abonce.
Of course she wouldn't sell me the unfinished piece. But maybe she was flattered that I was so taken by her work out of all the hundreds of paintings in the park that day, especially since I obviously had no clue who she was. She showed me two smaller Día de las Muertos themed pastels she had just finished. But these two also weren't for sale, she said, because she was planning to enter them in a juried show the next week. Alas, by the time they were ready to go on the market, I would have taken my pesos and traipsed all the way back to Deep Inferno. Here was this magnificent but cruel artist, tormenting me in the park with no works for sale!
Well, I tried to be a good sport and forget about the pastels, but my heart simply refused to move on. It was breaking. I loved them so much! I couldn't imagine living the rest of my life without them. Señora Abonce finally took pity on my forlorn looks, or maybe she just wanted me to quit moping around stalking her booth so she could get back to work. Anyway, she sold them both to me for $1200 pesos. My Spanish was totally inadequate to express to her how happy and how honored I was, but when they come back from the framers I'll email her a photo of them hanging in my shack along with my best attempt at immoderate gratitude.
Aren't they magnificent?
Sunday afternoon: I bid a sad farewell to beautiful Morelia and headed for Uruapan. But one look at the hotel in Uruapan and I forgot all about Morelia. I never wanted to live any place else for the rest of my life! The hotel is the Garden of Eden! A veritable tropical paradise, a hotbed of luxury. Lush colorful flora abounds: bougainvillea, roses, birds of paradise, Royal Poinciana trees, enormous banana plants, huge tropical ferns. Somebody pinch me: this has got got to be heaven. Spent the afternoon lounging on my balcony reading Paul Auster.
The view from my hotel room
The view from my balcony
And then, just when I thought life couldn't possibly get any better, dinner was served in the hotel restaurant. Simply unbelievable. I had an exquisite freshly caught local trout with a macadamia nut sauce made from regionally famous macadamia nuts and a very nice Chilean wine, delivered by Jesus, the world's most handsome and attentive maître d'. This culinary zenith was followed by an excessively decadent dessert comprising absolutely perfect crêpes glazed with a burnt goat-milk macadamia chocolate sauce, and topped with vanilla ice cream.
Please: shoot me now. If I get any happier I may explode and take out half of Mexico.
Woke up obscenely early, eager to explore the delights of historic downtown Morelia, which houses more than 1000 colonial buildings and churches. The day dawned to perfect weather for drooling on notable Spanish architecture and important social realist murals.
I set out walking, but not three meters from the hotel door I was riveted in place by my first Amazing Sight of the Day to write home about: the manhole covers of Morelia are elaborately adorned with the images of three kings! There is nothing like this in Deep Inferno. I would have brought some home with me but I was afraid it might be tough to sneak them through customs, and anyway I was already in their bad graces for the ink pen fiasco.
I milled around the sidewalk admiring this exquisite manhole cover for close to five minutes, blocking foot traffic and attracting dubious stares. I'm beginning to suspect that maybe I don't get out often enough.
Oh, and you know what else is really cool about Morelia? And all of Mexico, I guess: zillions of old style Volkswagen bugs! And buses. By the time I finally made it to the corner, I had counted 37 bugs and 12 buses, and it only took me seven minutes to walk half a block. And then there was the whole hair gel thing, where I got totally sidetracked trying to catalog the creative array of dramatic hair sculpting styles favored by the young males of Morelia. And shoes, of course: I am always intrigued by foreign shoes. And did I mention the graffiti? You can tell an awful lot about a city and its people by the graffiti.
Splendid example of culture jamming outside a classroom at an elite secondary school in Morelia.
According to the notes in my travel journal, those were my main impressions of the day. But now that you mention it, I did see some spectacular architecture:
And classical musicians serenading diners at sidewalk cafes:
And vivid, often disturbing revolutionary murals:
And we can't forget the ubiquitous balloon vendors:
I spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell they do with the leftover balloons that don't sell by the end of the day. Is there a giant warehouse somewhere on the outskirts of the city that threatens to levitate off its foundation on particularly unsuccessful days? Must do more research.
Saturday night: W00t! More margaritas! Accompanied by fancy dinner on top of a swank hotel that overlooks the baroque Morelia Cathedral which was built between 1660 and 1744. Every Saturday night the entire city gathers in the streets below for the illumination of the cathedral, which is accompanied by fireworks, orchestras, and choirs. It was an impressive sight, and I deeply regret that I forgot to bring my camera. But clearly this is a very cultured city. According to prominent signs on numerous street corners, they are currently recruiting more choir members who sing alto.
Thanks to all the walking (plus the margaritas), I have been sleeping very well in my Zalce bed.
More sights of the city:
Young musicians compete in a battle of the bands in a plaza in Morelia
Classical musicians play and painters exhibit their art in the Jardins de las Rosas.
The aqueduct in Morelia was built between 1785 and 1789. It measures 1600 m (5251 ft) in length and is borne on 253 arches.
There were so many breathtaking murals by Alfredo Zalce and other painters, I could have happily spent an entire decade studying them.
Flight into Morelia uneventful. Except my ink pen exploded all over my Customs & Immigration paperwork, right where it warns with such firm and official authority, "DO NOT MARK HERE." Brief panic!! as I envisioned my life of hard labor in a Mexican prison camp alongside scary felons who tore off their mattress tags. But the worldly flight attendant just sighed and handed me several more blank sheets, until on the fifth try I finally got it right. Whew. I am now a member of the Jet Set.
Arrived in town around 8pm and by sheer luck of the draw I ended up in the coveted Alfredo Zalce suite at the hotel. Each room is assigned an artist: the Van Gogh room, the Gauguin room, the Miró room, etc. Alfredo Zalce is the famous-son painter from Michoacan with whom I have recently fallen deeply in love, so imagine my delight upon discovering that a reproduction of his work is decoupaged onto the headboard of my hotel room! Also on the walls and other furniture as well.
Headboard in hotel room
Since Morelia is in the same time zone as Deep Inferno (small world, eh?), I didn't have any jet lag so I tossed my luggage in the room and wandered outside to explore the city. Morelia was teeming with night life. It seems very cosmopolitan, and obviously a university town: people of all ages wear black and sit in open air cafes, shouting passionately about art, music, and above all politics. I quaffed a margarita at a sidewalk cafe and enjoyed myself immensely.
(Note to self: please try to remember, especially after several margaritas, that the 'C' in the shower stands for caliente, not cold.)
A few days later I ogled this Zalce engraving in the Alfredo Zalce Museum of Contemporary Art in Morelia.
Hola, amigos! I'm back home safely from my trip to Mexico, with a soul full of vibrant colors and a heart full of happy memories. It was the best journey ever: I had many amazing adventures, learned about different cultures and customs, picked up a lot of Spanish, bonded with some very dear friends, ate way too much delicious food, and discovered that a margarita a day does indeed keep la turista away. Everything was brilliant, and I think I can truly say these may have been the very happiest ten days of my life.
I'll spend the next few days uploading and organizing photos and eventually telling some stories about my exciting travels, but meanwhile here are a few tantalizing snapshots to hold you over.
A single woman in my fifties, in debt, no income, no health insurance, and then that grapefruit-sized tumor wedged between my lungs turns out to be a malignant high-grade highly aggressive stage IV lymphoma. How much worse can it get? Bwahahaha! Stay tuned and find out.