Mark Dineen shakes up Mexico
Hola everyone out there in cyberspace!
Will endeavour to recap the last couple of weeks journeys through the Mexican
fog and bad typing skills here in sunny tranquill Mehico.
My curiosity of the strong Voodoo religion was finally satisfied after asking
questions to the locals, and finally tracking down the local Voodoo Hoodoo head
honcho in his own private museum in New Orleans French quarter. We toured
through the various rooms full of cupie dolls, negro figurine shrines, assorted
parafenalias of skulls, cigarettes, postcards, crosses artifact nic naks, and
one 3 metre yellow Burmese python, while our host did his best in spooking us
all with his tales of Voodoo sucess stories in keeping the world s evil spirits
at bay while glaring hard at us from under his thick dark eyebrowls. Enthralling
stuff.!!Unable to be persuaded to the Voodoo Hoodoos, we hit the dancefloors for
144 different versions of the 12 bar blues on Bourbon st, before busing it to
San Antonio, and more Texas turkey, and to check out the Alamo fortress, where
in the 1800 s Bowie, Davy Crockett and co lost their lives while fighting those
mad Mexicans in the fight for precious tracts of American soils. The guides tell
their tales of the battles, and wind up their speech yelling REMEMBER THE
ALAMO!! As a result, we will never forget the Alamo, as we listened to the same
speech twice, and won t forget the Alamo for a while! Now I just wanna ride my
Llama from Peru to Texicana....
24 hrs later, we crossed into Mexican soil, even getting fleeced 16bucks by the
fat controller on the bus, who claimed he was helping us cross cheaply, long
story, and found ourselves in Nuevo Laredo, a mega dusty little cracker box of a
town, packed with dented cars and wayward signwritings. Attempted to cheaply
train down sth, but after our taxi happilly dropped us at the train station, we
found the tracks coveed in rusthad rust, and one smiling homeless Mexican
happilly informed us, No Trren! No trren! So, walked all the way back, and bused
to Chihuahua, which didn t exactly appeal either, but were treated to a full
tour of town from a young local who was in for English language practice, and a
drink or two. He even shouted us tequilla ice cream, and showed us where the
local prostitutes hang out, and what they re worth, not that I was asking!
Next day, jumped on board the copper canyon express railway, due to leave at
7am. We boarded, and listened to the train roar stationary for over an hour,
before rolling out at 8.15am. Mexican time! The scenery got into to full swing,
as the train squeeked and meandered it s way through the rocky hils and
primative dry farmlands, home to the Tarramujarra people, who inhabit the far
out mountains also, and earn small change selling colourful crafts to the rich
Gringos(white man, usually American, who gets sunburnt and has lotsa money). The
sombero has evolved, now the form of a white cowboy hat, and can be seen
everywhere in droves here.
Stopped in Creel, a small town of high altitiude, freezing at night, warm by
day. Visited some hot springs among great canyon views, and spent a day
mountainbiking the local trails, which were fantastic. Two German guys who have
ridden all the way from San Fransico put us to shame by riding up everything
while we panted and pushed. The rocky/smooth terrain was perfect, and everywhere
I looked, I pictured the coyote prying off that boulder balancing on top of the
tall rock pillars with a cro-bar as the roadrunner waits below, the rock
formations were amazing, as to the sunny cloudless weather. A great place that
was hard to leave.
With a hankering for some beach, finally found some in Mazatlan, mid west coast
Mexico, and lapped up the mediocre bodysurfing, and some tasty coconuts on the
beach, while watching the hoards of fishermen bringing in their catch, while the
restaurants dished out endless seafood, which we indulged with a few other
gringos. Super.!Next, spent 2 nights on Piedra island, living ultra cheap in
brick/palm branch huts, practicing Spanish with the hillarious and super
friendly hosts, and took in the sights on the commercialised beach there, where
everything from necklaces to baby iguana s are for sale. Swimming by day, fire
on the beach at night, slobbery is taking me over.
Now in San Blas, on the coast again, hoping for some good surf, and a trip into
the jungle. Cant help but feel sorry for the hoards of poorly state dogs here,
and some other anaimals, a sign of poverty in this part of the world. Last night
while watching an outdoor street fiesta, we got patting a pet racoon on a 2 foot
chain in the yard of a house, which was desperate to free itself. So,
unsatisfied by his imprisonment, I set the alarm for 3am, and Lisa and I crept
down through the dark streets, armed with pocket knife, and managed to release
the sleepy racoon, then, while heading back, met our landlord on the street, who
was surprised to see us, but was more interested in telling us his drunken tale
about his 6ft blonde Canadian female disco partner he d just farewelled. Close
call. Racoon mission accomplished!!
Will hang here till 26th, hoping for a spot of turkey, and a fiesta, before
heading off again, hope everyone has a great Xmas/new year with bellies full of
quality chow and good red, thanks for all the greets and mails, they go a long
way in these far outskirts, believe me, and will get around to writing to you
all soon. Back to more mangled spanish lessons which is serving us well, and the
slow process of getting rid of this European tan of mine. The locals are great,
very friendly and hillarious to listen to, Mexico is shaping up well.
Hasta luego amigos, amigas!
Mutzo Marco