At the guesthouse is a long banquet style table made up of 3 tables placed end to end. Each morning it is set with 12 place settings of colorful, traditional Mexican pottery, a plate, bowl, coffee mug and tumbler. It is here that the guests have the opportunity to get acquainted with one another. Often the owner, who lives on the premises, breakfasts with his guests. He is well read, politically aware and, like myself, very opinionated. Breakfast discussions and debates ranged from topics such as global warming, politics, including the pros, cons and history of the electoral college, to local attractions, cinema and personal stories.
One morning it was just he and I at the table. He told me his journey to guesthouse ownership. I learned of the sometimes radical tactics of the Mexican Teachers Union and his current assessment of the new president of Mexico. He told me about the Byzantine nature of historical preservation in Guadalajara. He had to wade his way through it while renovating the guesthouse, an old hacienda, which he estimates dates from the 1880's.
One morning he asked a Canadian guest his opinion of the Canadian health care system. The guest, who is in the health care profession, sang it's praises. The U.S, citizens at the table, myself included, grumbled about ours. We discussed what he described as the last stand of the straight, white male in the U.S.
We shared stories about coming out. It is this last subject, in part, that has made him resolve to keep his business, as much as possible, exclusively Gay. Incomes, nationalities, ages and professions may differ among the guests but sexual orientation is the common denominator they all share. It is our common rallying point. It creates community, even if that community is only transient and temporary. A couple from Nice, France happened to come into the restaurant where I was having dinner one evening The language barrier had kept our breakfast conversation limited to Good Morning. But across the tables we waved and warmly smiled, acknowledging one another. We had a common bond. We were, for that brief moment in time, members of the same community.
Tuesday, May 28, 2019
Guadalajara 2019 - Wandering With No Particular Plan
Originally I had planed to visit the Regional Museum of Guadalajara. I had been there on my previous trip but at that time several of the exhibits, including what I had read was an excellent mineral collection, gems and minerals are a strong interest of mine, were closed. To my dismay, after paying a modest entry fee, I discovered that, on that day, only one gallery was open. The skeleton of the mammoth, the museum's signature piece, was on display of course, The rest of the one open hall seemed to contain artifacts highlighting moments in the Mexican state of Jalisco's history. Everything was in Spanish, I didn't understand a word. On one wall 2 primitive folk art paintings shared space with an abstract, modern piece. Making the best of a bad situation I spend time wandering around the courtyards, staircases and covered walkways of the venerable building that houses the museum, which is recognized as an excellent example of colonial architecture.
Stepping back into the afternoon sun I decided to revisit the silver vendors I had been to earlier in the week, located a short walk away from the museum. I ambled along the stone streets and strolled across plazas enjoying the historic centers architecture and the sights and sounds surrounding me.
A group of musicians played the country bluegrass classic "Old Cotton Fields Back Home" on traditional Mexican instruments. I indulged in people watching, particularly the ubiquitous cute Mexican boys that abound in Guadalajara. I found myself pondering where they found jeans that displayed their assets so well.
I stopped for lunch at an awing covered outdoor restaurant. The breeze caused the plants hanging overhead to sway gently. One of the waiters was a bulked up lad that reminded me of the Luchadors I had watched, and come into such close contact with, earlier in the week.
Next to the restaurant is a large building containing row after row jewelry cases. There are scores of vendors spread out over the buildings 3 floors. I attempted to take a photo but a member of a small army of security personnel made me delete it from my phone, watching me to ensure that I did so.
A rainbow of semiprecious stones were on display. Turquoise, carnelian, abalone and amber, among others, set in gleaming sterling silver. One problem I encountered that afternoon was that all the men's rings I looked at were too large for my fingers. Since Mexican men are not, in general, large people I had to assume that the pieces were designed with the heftier, U.S. male in mind. Persistence paid off. As I looked in one case the charming young woman attending it said "You can speak English". As I have discovered on several of my trips to Mexico with my blonde, now white and balding, pate and Midwestern winter white skin, I do not blend. In her case was a ring that fit, albeit on my index finger. It is a simple design of alternating strips of silver and marcasite, a stone I , remarkably, didn't own. I have a lot of jewelry.
I slowly made my way back to the guesthouse. Along the way I chanced upon a trio of costumed musicians playing reed flutes on a small street which is flanked by century plus old arcaded walkways. The plumes in their extravagant headpieces moved with them as they swayed with the music. I bought a CD of the traditional music from a fourth member of the troupe so I wouldn't feel like a heel for taking their picture. The music is actually kind of soothing.
The Friday afternoon crowd was out in full force. There are often hordes of people in many of Guadalajara's streets. A cast of thousands of all genders, ages, shapes and sizes fill the pedestrian only streets shopping, eating, laughing or enjoying one of those moments when the world is just the two of you, or you and your family, even though you are among a sea of humanity.
Stepping back into the afternoon sun I decided to revisit the silver vendors I had been to earlier in the week, located a short walk away from the museum. I ambled along the stone streets and strolled across plazas enjoying the historic centers architecture and the sights and sounds surrounding me.
A group of musicians played the country bluegrass classic "Old Cotton Fields Back Home" on traditional Mexican instruments. I indulged in people watching, particularly the ubiquitous cute Mexican boys that abound in Guadalajara. I found myself pondering where they found jeans that displayed their assets so well.
I stopped for lunch at an awing covered outdoor restaurant. The breeze caused the plants hanging overhead to sway gently. One of the waiters was a bulked up lad that reminded me of the Luchadors I had watched, and come into such close contact with, earlier in the week.
Next to the restaurant is a large building containing row after row jewelry cases. There are scores of vendors spread out over the buildings 3 floors. I attempted to take a photo but a member of a small army of security personnel made me delete it from my phone, watching me to ensure that I did so.
A rainbow of semiprecious stones were on display. Turquoise, carnelian, abalone and amber, among others, set in gleaming sterling silver. One problem I encountered that afternoon was that all the men's rings I looked at were too large for my fingers. Since Mexican men are not, in general, large people I had to assume that the pieces were designed with the heftier, U.S. male in mind. Persistence paid off. As I looked in one case the charming young woman attending it said "You can speak English". As I have discovered on several of my trips to Mexico with my blonde, now white and balding, pate and Midwestern winter white skin, I do not blend. In her case was a ring that fit, albeit on my index finger. It is a simple design of alternating strips of silver and marcasite, a stone I , remarkably, didn't own. I have a lot of jewelry.
I slowly made my way back to the guesthouse. Along the way I chanced upon a trio of costumed musicians playing reed flutes on a small street which is flanked by century plus old arcaded walkways. The plumes in their extravagant headpieces moved with them as they swayed with the music. I bought a CD of the traditional music from a fourth member of the troupe so I wouldn't feel like a heel for taking their picture. The music is actually kind of soothing.
The Friday afternoon crowd was out in full force. There are often hordes of people in many of Guadalajara's streets. A cast of thousands of all genders, ages, shapes and sizes fill the pedestrian only streets shopping, eating, laughing or enjoying one of those moments when the world is just the two of you, or you and your family, even though you are among a sea of humanity.
Guadalajara 2019 - UBER Misadventure Part 2
The challenge of UBERing to the aquarium was equaled by the challenge of UBERing back. Apparently, the designated UBER pick up spot is not, as one might assume, in front of the aquarium where I had been dropped off, but in the parking lot to it's side. While looking for my ride a call came through on my phone. I could tell from the are code that it was local. I answered and a voice began speaking to me in rapid fire Spanish. It was the UBER driver. It soon became apparent that we were not communicating with one another effectively. A young woman smoking a cigarette strolled by. Anxiously I looked at her and said "English, Spanish?" She said "Yes", in English. I handed her my phone explaining that it was an UBER driver I was supposed to meet. She spoke with him for a few seconds and motioned for me to follow her. She led me to the parking lot and shortly I was ensconced in the back seat of the car returning, through the maze of streets that is Guadalajara, to the guest house.
Thank you you bilingual woman, whoever you were.
Thank you you bilingual woman, whoever you were.
Thursday, May 23, 2019
Guadalajara 2019 - The Aquarium - Fish, Amphibians, Otters and Parakeets
The aquarium is small but has a nice collection and several rather innovative exhibits. First up is a Pearse's Mudskipper, an odd little creature that can breath on land because it has gills that can store water. Some tiny amphibians in this area can be difficult to spot due to the heavy vegetation in the cases. They are, after all, camouflaged in nature to keep them from becoming someones lunch. And while on the subject of lunch, there is the Red Striped Eartheater, which absorbs soil and sediment in it's mouth in search of small crustaceans and invertebrates.
I marveled at the extraordinary colors of some of the fish on display and the way schools of them assume almost sculptural forms. I stop to offer, using hand gestures, to photograph a young couple together in front of a large boa constrictor as it twisted it's body around a branch in it's enclosure.
There are interactive exhibits where visitors can reach into pools and feel fish. I choose not to do so. In an outdoor area where a small park is separated from the aquarium grounds by a fence sits off to one side, scores of small children in their school uniforms watched with glee as otters swam playfully in a large 4 sided exhibit which allowed them to view the animals on land and in the water. In this area is also an aviary where a flock of colorful parakeets land on the visitors heads and shoulders. I attracted a particularly tenacious one. The little yellow creature seemed as if it would be perfectly content to stay on my shoulder all afternoon. After taking a selfie with it I had to negotiate a number of awkward twists and turns in an effort to get it to leave its perch.
Back inside a tank spans one wall and curves above the visitor's head creating a tunnel of fish. The bottom of a shark was visible as it rested on the ceiling, or, from it's perspective, floor, of the exhibit. From on upper gallery I watched Manta Rays as they swirled gracefully, occasionally rising to the surface and flapping their winglike fins, splashing the giggling children that surrounded the pool before heading back outside and summoning an UBER.
I marveled at the extraordinary colors of some of the fish on display and the way schools of them assume almost sculptural forms. I stop to offer, using hand gestures, to photograph a young couple together in front of a large boa constrictor as it twisted it's body around a branch in it's enclosure.
There are interactive exhibits where visitors can reach into pools and feel fish. I choose not to do so. In an outdoor area where a small park is separated from the aquarium grounds by a fence sits off to one side, scores of small children in their school uniforms watched with glee as otters swam playfully in a large 4 sided exhibit which allowed them to view the animals on land and in the water. In this area is also an aviary where a flock of colorful parakeets land on the visitors heads and shoulders. I attracted a particularly tenacious one. The little yellow creature seemed as if it would be perfectly content to stay on my shoulder all afternoon. After taking a selfie with it I had to negotiate a number of awkward twists and turns in an effort to get it to leave its perch.
Back inside a tank spans one wall and curves above the visitor's head creating a tunnel of fish. The bottom of a shark was visible as it rested on the ceiling, or, from it's perspective, floor, of the exhibit. From on upper gallery I watched Manta Rays as they swirled gracefully, occasionally rising to the surface and flapping their winglike fins, splashing the giggling children that surrounded the pool before heading back outside and summoning an UBER.
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