Guadalajara

There's something a bit mystifying about Bruce Willis movies. In particular, Tears of the Sun. This film was being aired in Spanish without subtitles on the ferry ride across the Sea of Cortez. Somehow, despite my inability to comprehend about 90% of the dialogue, I can confidently say that I did not miss a thing in that movie.

The ferry from La Paz travelled southeast towards the mainland city of Mazatlan. In doing so, it crossed the Tropic of Cancer. Granted, there was a significant geographic change as well, but with that crossing came a radical change in climate. Days have regressed to a comfortable average temperature of 23 to 26 degrees Celsius and nights have brought forth assured sweater weather. The landscape has revealed endless, green, rolling hills. I've been told, however, that it has been browning since the terminus of the rainy season three weeks ago. I've also received my first taste of the Sierra Madres mountain range and it's been a true test of endurance.

Three days ago, I arrived at the house of my ex-pat Torontonian friend, Alex. I spent two days exploring the 4 small towns lining the north shore of Laguna Chapala, about 50km south of Guadalajara. This included a pretty unique celebration of Mexico's Dias de los Muertes (day of the dead.) Late Friday afternoon, I joined about 200 other people in a casual meander of the Ajijic cemetery where there was live music and ample free food to celebrate the re-acquaintance with dead relatives.

Yesterday, I made my way into Guadalajara, the second largest city in the nation. I toured the historic downtown with a pair of P.E.I. natives I met at the Hostel Guadalajara, my residence for the night. Guad is home to numerous historic buildings, several massive pedestrian plazas, astonishing markets unlike anything I've ever seen and even a stunning 16th century cathedral. Despite all of the amazing architecture, I most enjoyed just sitting in the plazas, watching the thousands of Guadalajarians go about their usual Saturday business. The city was so very full of life and energy, I found it impossible to keep the smile from my face.

Occupying the second floor of a building well over one hundred years old, the hostel boasted ceilings some 10 meters above my head, supported by massive stone arches. Each room (including the one I shared with 7 others) opened up to a walk-out terrace where more than once I stood, overlooking the bustling street below. Saturday night brought numerous travellers out of the woodwork to an aprez Day of the Dead costume party. Not having my Lance Armstrong outfit, I opted to wear my sleeping bag, dubbing myself Jabba the Hut. It was a lot of fun to struggle through Spanish dialogue with a handful of people from around the world, very few of which spoke any English (even fewer had seen Star Wars.) Furthermore, the ridiculous costumes (Kill Bill, Greek goddess, giant cassette tape) and the readily flowing alcohol made for an hilarious night.

Today, I linger around Guadalajara for another afternoon. Tonight, I return by bus to Ajijic for an early ride towards Mexico City - ETA: six days.

Until the smog capital of the world, I hope this bronchitis goes away.