Pátzcuaro aka Who Threw That?

My short bus ride from Morelia brought me through more green farmland and moderate sized mountains before arriving in the town of Pátzcuaro, a place of only about 50,000 people that is said to be one of the most attractive, pleasant highland towns in all of Mexico. Hoping for a few days of rest and a nice laid-back setting, I was happy to see the town appeared as calm and laid-back as it claimed to be at first glance. I took a taxi towards my intended hotel, but I soon found that the rooms were about $10 more than I was expecting, bringing the outrageous price to a grand total of about $26, so I scoffed, turned my back and stormed away, with my huge backpack in tow. Not being a big place, I figured I could just walk around and find an alternative. A few other places lining the town square were also a bit expensive because of their location, but I soon found a nice hotel just a block up the road, offering a comfortable bed and pillow (which is not all that common), a tv and a nice bathroom for about $17. The small hotel of 15 or 20 rooms also had a nice, typically Spanish courtyard in the center as you walked in with some tall plants lining the stairway to the upstairs section of the hotel. Walking back into town, construction was underway on many of the roads and buildings, in preparation for the biggest event of the year, by far. Despite being such a tiny town, the place is overtaken with tourists every year during the week of November 1 and 2. In Mexico, these days, All Saint's Day and Day of the Dead, respectively, have tremendous importance, and this small town, along with some of its indigenous traditions and beliefs, is the mecca of all celebrations throughout the country. People come from all over the country and many parts of the world to be a part of the celebration. And, yes, though it may sound morbid, it is a celebration. The culture emphasizes celebrating the lives and honoring those who have passed on, more than mourning them. On these days, altars are set up with elaborate displays of flowers, along with traditional foods and drinks that are offered to the deceased, all the while burning candles and flames in their honor. Finally, the relatives often visit the cemeteries, holding candles and vigils during the nights. One of the particularly noteworthy events here in Pátzcuaro is the fact that the locals each board their tiny boats, one person per boat, with a lit candle at the bow, and they simultaneously descend upon the small island in the middle of the lake, making for an incredible sight of single lights heading out into the vast darkness...well, so I am told. Unfortunately, the Day of the Dead is still a few weeks away, and I don't have time to hang around this town until then. Also, they say that the limited hotel rooms in this town sell out many months in advance, so I think I'd be way too late to find any sort of accommodation anyway.

After a few minutes, I had pretty much orientated myself to the whole town, mostly centering around two main plazas only a few blocks apart. Much of the day was spent walking around the plaza, enjoying the cool weather (about 60 degrees) and just relaxing. Along with the Day of the Dead celebrations are traditional chocolates and breads from the local bakeries, so I enjoyed a few different types of bread, along with more than a few of the cheap, delicious chocolate skulls that were just a peso each. The chocolate stands had all types and sizes of dark and white chocolate skulls, decorated with edible beads and food coloring. Speaking of food, I found one of my many beloved taco stands here in the local market. Often very cheap, though not the most sanitary option, these places are hard for me to pass up. Just like the stands outside the stadium in Guadalajara, these taco joints have a huge grill lined with meats and grilled vegetables such as peppers and onions. Upon ordering, they just slide a bit of your chosen meat into the middle to heat up, then the take a few tortillas in each hand and deftly scoop up the tacos. Once in hand, they add the cilantro, onions and spicy salsa, throw everything on a plate with some of the grilled vegetables, mostly onions, and there you have it. In addition there are usually two or three more types of salsa and pico de gallo to choose from, making for a marvelous, quick, cheap meal. I had four of the grilled steak tacos for lunch, and I couldn't help but go back for dinner. Each vying for my attention, they shout ''Pásale, güero,'' meaning ''Come on in, blondie.'' Surveying the best looking meat, I picked out on of the stands and had a seat at the tiny stools around the grill. In between shoving my way to the front and shouting my order, for which you don't pay until the end when you leave (it is all surprisingly trusting of the customer), the power went out, which didn't seem to be an uncommon occurrence. The whole town was dark, particularly under the awnings of this market. As I laughed to myself, apparently someone else was also laughing to themself for a different reason. Within a few seconds, I felt a powerful force hit the back of my leg. Confused, I quickly tried to figure out what it was. Could it have been a dog or a someone trying to move around in the dark? It was a different feeling than that, though. As I thought about it, I realized that I had been the target of a sniper...not the dangerous kind, the kind that throw round objects, such as either a lime or a potato. Although it did sort of hurt, I couldn't help but smile as someone had taken the opportunity to throw a small fruit or vegetable during the chaos. And, I wondered, was I really the target? Was this an anti-American, anti-tourist hate crime, or was this just a random act of idiocy? Either way, my bruised leg and I didn't mind much, and soon the lights were back on. I searched all around for the said object, but I couldn't find it, after it had surely rolled under one of the many adjacent booths. I also looked around for possible culprits, but I couldn't find anything other than friendly faces, so I gave up my investigation. Amused, I finished my mouth-watering tacos and headed back for the night.

In the morning, I decided to take a taxi to one of the local mountaintops for a nice view of the town below and the nearby lake of the same name. Finding a cheap taxi driver that agreed to take me up there, wait for about half an hour and take me back for $10, I jumped in the beat up old station wagon, and we were on our way. Leaving town and heading uphill, we were greeted by some horrific cobblestone roads, missing big pieces of the road, leaving huge potholes that were often unavoidable, I felt bad for the driver and the car as the rattles and clicks grew louder and louder after every jarring bump. The little old man didn't seem to mind too much, though, but then he suddenly made a quick stop. Right in the middle of this somewhat steep, nearly deserted road, he stopped the car, and told me that he'd be just a second. Now, I'm not sure if it was the bumpy road or just an insatiable urge, but he got out of the car, closed the door and walked around towards the back wheel on the driver's side. Then, he assumed the position, with one hand resting up against the top of the car, and he just started peeing, right there in the middle of the road. He didn't seem to mind, nor did he want to bother to make the effort to hide behind one of the many trees lining the road. Just a little while later, he returned to the car as if nothing had happened, and we were back on our way. Not much further ahead, we arrived at El Estribo, a parking lot and gazebo overlooking the edge of town below, the thick forest all around and the lovely lake in the middle of the valley of peaks. As with many days in the area, the area was foggy and damp, offering hints of rain with nothing really materializing. Within the dark lake are four main islands, and he happily listed their names, as well as many of the surrounding pueblos that are known for their specific arts and crafts with such items as musical instruments, copper, masks, blankets, etc, depending on which town you visit. Apparently the Spanish settlers felt that the towns should have specialties, so each tiny village was introduced to a different discipline, a tradition that still survives today.

The view from the hilltop was amazing, but there was a better one to be had. Behind the gazebo, the steep hill covered in trees gave way to reveal the staircase from Hell. This conglomeration of concrete steps seemed to go on forever, as far up the hill as the eye could see. Despite dreading the steep climb, I really wanted to see the view from the top, so I took a deep breath and started climbing. Not wanting to look up at the daunting task, I kept my head down and counted each of the concrete torture mechanisms. Taking a few breaks, I turned to enjoy the foggy, mystical views of the nearly isolated lake below. Within a few minutes, I was at the top, making it up the initial 25 steps and the monstrous set of 392 for a grand total of 417 steep steps. The view atop the mountain was nice, though, realistically, it wasn't that much different that the view from 9/10ths of the way up. Soon, I headed back down to find the old driver just sitting outside his car, listening to the radio and smoking a cigarette. We headed back into town, not making any pit stops this time, though still braving the disastrous road. After reading about and then seeing the magical islands of the lake from above, I decided to go see them (or at least the main one) in person. A quick taxi ride took me to the pier, and I soon boarded the cheap boat filled with long benches for the 20 or 30 minute ride out to the island. Isla Janitzio is a small landmass in the middle of the lake, filled with small houses and shops, lining the shore and all the way up the hill that marks the center of the island. As we got closer, we could not only see the colorful houses, but the 150 foot statue with a raised fist that tops the island came into view. Also, just as we neared the shore, some local fisherman came out on their boats to give us a little show. The four of them lined up their small canoes and pulled out the huge, butterfly shaped nets that have been used for centuries. They ceremoniously dipped them into the water, with only one of them pulling out a tiny fish in the massive net. With a big smile on his face, he showed off the tiny fish, and one of the fisherman neared the boat, asking for tips from the tourists aboard. Despite not catching much of anything, these fishermen seemed to do pretty well for themselves, majestically fishing for nothing more than tips.

Once on the island, the steep hills revealed more and more stairs, winding through shops and house on the way up to the top. After ten or fifteen minutes of steep uphill climbing, I made it to the statue, constructed of a medium gray colored stone with white grout. The viewing platform over the town and lake below would have been nice, if not for the swarms of gnats that seemed to congregate only in that particular area. With the towering statue above, I walked around the top of the hill and found the entrance into the statue, revealing another gauntlet of stairs inside. The inside was somewhat like a lighthouse with an open center and six levels, with winding stairs lining the wall, along with a beautiful mural depicting the entire history of the town, back to indigenous days. I would have liked to have taken a few pictures of the colorful murals that covered every inch of the six levels, but photography is prohibited, which didn't seem to bother a few of the less scrupulous Mexican visitors. I climbed and climbed, thankful for the years of Stairmaster that had adequately prepared me for this torturous day, and I was soon at the top. Looking out, there was a nice view from the shoulder of the statue, but I wanted to go further. Another tiny spiral staircase and some maneuvering brought me to a place where I could peek my head and shoulders out for another good view, realizing that I had made my way up into the wrist of the statue. Not an island full of activities, that was about all there was to do, so I got back down to the harbor and left on the next boat. This one was a bit more crowded, but I was one of the few gringos, which is always a nice feeling. A friendly local woman began talking to me, telling me about the surrounding towns, introducing me to her sister and telling me about some time spent living in Washington DC. As usual, I was delighted by the sincere friendliness of the people, often just curious to know what you are doing here and what you think of their city, country, etc. Just as the boat was leaving, a group of four Mexicans jumped on, instruments in hand. There was a stand-up bass, a guitar, an accordion with an amplifier and a snare drum. Not leaving much room on the boat, they found their way towards the front, right next to me. Soon, the band set up, with the drum literally in my lap, and they began to play some mariachi tunes. It wasn't bad and definitely gave the trip an authentic feel. The return journey, along with the music, went by quite quickly, and the musicians asked for a few tips before jumping off and boarding the next boat back to the island, starting the routine all over again.

Back in town, the evening transpired in much the same way, featuring a relaxing night and many, many wonderful tacos at one of the local stands. A bit of rain began to fall, so I huddled under the tiny awning with the locals, absorbing the smells and tastes of the grill before running back to my hotel. The next morning was again spent at the bus station with a nice sugary donut. My next stop had me a bit worried after hearing tons of bad stories and press, but it is something that can't be missed...Mexico City...

(The Plaza Grande, featuring a little fountain, a few people, a more picturesque architecture.)

(Oh no...this is the never-ending stairway up to the top of the hill overlooking the lake. The site is known as El Estribo. And, actually, this is going downhill, so that's no so bad. Still long, though.)

(The island of Janitzio, with the statue standing tall atop the middle.)

(The four fishermen with their massive butterfly nets. The one in the middle is showing off the tiny fish that he caught.)

(A tiny cemetery on the island that would be a magical site during Day of the Dead celebrations.)

(A view of the other three islands, from the top of the statue.)

(There it is again. The first lookout is on the left side of his neck, between the face and the arm, and the other lookout is up at his wrist.)

(One of the typical streets with the red and white buildings leading from my hotel to the main square.)

(The little plaza, just steps away from some incredible taco stands...and one possibly belligerent local with a predilection for throwing small, round objects.)

(Just a pair of horses parallel parked on one of the main roads in town. Gotta love small mountain towns.)