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.
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