Our bus to Morelia left Gto at 6:50. I took Dramamine, popped in my headphones, and got a good morning's sleep on the way here, which was good because I didn't sleep well last night between the partying students at some nearby bar and my coughing. I did get to see a bit of the ride, including this beautiful lake that the highway bisects -- it was perfectly calm, a crystal mirror of the mountains and hills around it. Bus movies: Beverly Hills Chihuahua and The Bucket List.
Towards the end of the bus ride, Peter chatted with a middle-aged American couple, Liz and George, and they ended up sort of inviting us to come to Patzcuaro! It turns out their friends who were supposed to use the second room in the B&B where they are staying could not come. There might be some friends from Gto coming, but they didn't think so. They would like the room to get used, so they offered it to us. We learned more about their lives: they have a house in Gto that they visit from their home in Oregon. We told them about our trip and how we might end up living in Gto. The woman said they might know of job opportunities -- she knew of one now, taking care of two elderly women in the evenings, and they wanted an English speaker. Patzcuaro was our real destination for Day of the Dead, but we had ended up booking the hostel in nearby Morelia because accommodation in Patzcuaro were full to expensive. We wait to hear from them about their friends, but are hopeful to get a free place to stay in Patzcuaro. Even if we do, we would return to see more of Morelia, most likely.
Our hostel, in spite of its absurd name (Tequila Sunset Hostel) is very pretty. It is in the center of town too, so that's nice.
Morelia is a beautiful colonial city. Much larger than Gto (600,000 as opposed to Gto's 70,000), it feels a bit more like Oaxaca to me with streets on a grid, but already I can sense that it's a wealthier city (Oaxaca and Chiapas are the poorest states).
We ate breakfast at the Jardin de las Rosas, a lovely little square. Morelia, and its home state of Michoacan are also known for being a stop on the Monarch route. They arrive mid-November, are not quite here, but during breakfast I spotted several other types of butterflies, including two large black and yellow ones (not swallowtails). I think I like this town.
We had heard from our new roommate, Ronda, that Morelia's day of the dead festivities were starting today, and we glimpsed people walking by carrying structures for altars covered in marigolds. I saw some papel picado (cut paper) hanging from the ceiling of the Museo del Estado and suggested we peek in there. Turns out they were having a concert in the courtyard: A good classical guitarist who sang traditional Latino folk songs, ending with one familiar to me, La Llorona. From there we were ushered in to another courtyard where they had some paper mache "Catrinas" on display and where they brought out treats for everyone: small sugar skulls, long, thin cookies called "huesitos" or "little bones", and Guava juice. I commented to Peter that I felt like we had crashed a party, but that was nothing compared to what was to come.
We walked over to the main plaza, La Plaza de Armas, where we saw more altars being set up, on the way passing the school of fine arts (peeked in to see about a brochure but were disappointed in the student work we saw, so didn't bother). The hall of justice had a beautiful dia de muertos set up in the courtyard and I also got to see the mural there of Morelos (the city's namesake) by Calderon.
Continuing our walk, I yet again stopped Peter to pull him in to see more altars -- today seems to be the day to build them. This time, I thought we were going into a University building, where students were making altars all around two large courtyards and in the connecting hallways. In the second courtyard, a girl approached us and tried out her English. She asked where we are from, and we asked her how it was decided who did which altar (it was classes, well groups, and it was a contest). Peter asked her what she was studying there and she struggled to translate to English, but finally made clear that she's a Junior. "Wait, this is a high school?" "Yes. Do you want to see the one I worked on?" Peter and I froze for a second and then said, "Yes" After she showed us her group's altar, a boy approached us in Spanish and asked if we would like to see his group's altar. Sure! So he lead us to another side of the courtyard where he and his friends gave us a fantastic explanation of their altar: the history of the people they were honoring (Morelos and a woman who, they explained, was also prominent in the revolution); the significance of lake Patzcuaro, which was featured, and the symbol of the fish (the fishing history of Michoacan is important for the whole country); and all the different parts of the altar. At some point, it seemed like they maybe thought we were judges, their explanations were so careful and complete -- also three different boys explained to us (with some repetition, but not entirely), much like a group presentation. I was thiking, "I want to teach students like this!" After this group, which went on a while, I said, "Peter, I think we'd better get out of here before someone else thinks we're judges." Peter said, "I think we'd better go look at the next one!" We looked at a few more, snapped pictures, and saw very few teachers. The few we did see looked at us a little suspiciously but didn't say anything (Teacher in me says, "What? We endangered your school by coming on! Kick us out!"). We both felt like telling the teachers what wonderful students they had there, but instead we just left, laughing all the way down the street.
From there to the Sweets Market, though so far we haven't tasted many candies here that we like, so we didn't buy any. I want to try the preserved key limes stuffed with coconut but another day.
Back to the hostel to catch up on more sleep. Tonight there is supposed to be a parade of "living Catrinas" (I imagine people in costume) and I think a band is playing in the Plaza's bandstand.
Final destination analysis: Hard to say. Morelia is so vibrant (of course, it's festival time). The two cities are very different in feel -- there are more cars here, and more of a city vibe. I have loved stumbling into so much going on today, but who is to say that's the normal city when it is not festival? If we go to Patzcuaro to stay tomorrow, we would still come back to spend some non-festival time in Morelia and see its sights. There are also many outlying towns around Lake Patzcuaro and maybe around Morelia to visit.
Pictures of all of this to come eventually...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment