We left the campground not terribly early and went into town for breakfast in a place recommended to Layne by some gabachos (foreigners) who told her, incautiously they make rather good croissants. The problem with being away from home is you get these weird cravings, often in the form of food, which can get annoying. In the spirit of Oscar Wilde who said famously the only way to get rid of temptation is to give in to it, we drove into Pátzcuaro and found parking near the recommended eatery.
Was it worth it? The croissants were buttery and excellent, the coffee smooth and cinnamon infused, and the view? Judge for yourself.
All the other gabachos were sitting inside exchanging Covid germs and as we were alone on the terrace for reasons I couldn't fathom, I asked the waitress not to forget us. She didn't. It was really lovely and we lingered over a second cup of coffee. Then we started driving.
I had been in the mood for a roadtrip for a while and we decided a day trip around Lake Pátzcuaro was in order. The lake is 34 miles long and has several inhabited islands in the middle. The usual course of action is to take a boat to the largest of these, drink copiously on the way and struggle to the statue on the top of Janitzio Island while being hounded by souvenir hawkers. This you might imagine was not our plan. Circumnavigation suited Gannet 2 and her crew much better. The blue spot below marks our campground at Villa Pátzcuaro. We turned left and visited each village along the way taking most of the day.
The lake has supplied the most important ingredient for human development, fresh water (not the Internet!), to various tribes in this area long before the arrival of the Spaniards around 1530. As we shall see there are ruins from the pre-Columbian era (the time that is, before Columbus landed in the Bahamas)that show an advanced culture of trades and skills governed by tribal hierarchies all around the lake. These days the various villages are tourist attractions though mostly for Mexicans on vacation. The road itself is reasonably well paved though cursed with too many speed bumps and we were rather distracted by the scenery so we took a few rather too fast. Gannet 2 and her contents held up well to the bouncing of the distracted driver that I was..
Imagine a winding empty road, a few cars, a few delivery trucks, mountains and clean orderly cultivated fields, dry stone walls, small stores selling wood carvings, colorful pottery, spicy roast chickens and no one to bother you. Stop, look, make pictures, let Rusty wander a bit, no "Don't Do This"signs, no neighborhood watches, just you and a few shy locals and a tank full of gas. If you've envied the intrepid tourists on the road in the 1930s welcome to our world.
If I try to tell you what we did on Saturday all I can tell you is not much. Had you been riding with us it would have felt like a weekend drive with your parents. We looked out the windows at the fields and enjoyed the scenery. Let me show you:
We had a habit Layne and I when out cruising with our Gemini catamaran to take a day, sail off the anchor and go for a spin out of the anchorage wherever we were in Mexico, Latin America or the Caribbean. Other cruisers who were firmly dug in thought we were crazy but sometimes when you travel it's fun to go for a drive or a sail with no greater purpose than to enjoy being in motion with no destination or desire other than a nice picnic and a chance to enjoy the machine under way.
Rusty loves getting out and having a quick sniff. Three large local dogs came under a fence barreling down at him. I judged them too aggressive and bent down in the act of picking up a stone. By the time I straightened up, no stone in hand, they were gone. Mexicans are mean and have a good aim apparently. Rusty knew I had his back.
A water truck. They are common in Mexico so enjoy your potable tap water while you can. Drinking water is not apparently a universal right and I find it rather disturbing paying for potable water. Mexicans pay property taxes and can't safely drink the water in their taps. The cost to buy drinking water is as nothing for us, less than a buck for five gallons, but for them it can be an expense.
Layne loves looking at shops, food, supermarket, arts and crafts, she is happiest when wandering and talking to the owners. We don't bargain or dick around with the sellers. We are unimaginably wealthy and to screw them out of a few dollars to make ourselves feel good would actually make us feel crappy. I am happy to pay the gringo tax in Mexico where even being overcharged doesn't break our bank and makes a small difference to them.
Where you see more dogs and cattle by the side of the road, the greater the poverty. Middle class neighborhoods keep their dogs at home just like you do. These roads were labeled "Ganaderia suelta" - loose cattle as apparently it is the custom, or the right maybe, to graze your herd along the verges. There is usually a herdsman sheltering in the shade nearby. It reminds me of my childhood in Italy when I'd hang with my buddy Fausto as he herded his family's sheep in the mountains. Umbria 1965 = Mexico 2022? Hardly, but the similarities kick my nostalgia off!
When we travel we have a thing called "The Cruising Principle." It sounds very severe but all it means is that when we see something that we think we want or may need we buy it. This principle caught up to us when out sailing and we'd wait to buy it and we'd never see it for sale again. Apparently one of the villages, according to Lonely Planet is a big production center for traditional masks. We saw a mask shop and Layne, deploying the principal bought small one she liked for the van ($5). We never did see another mask shop on the road!
I caught a glimpse of the shy old mask maker in his shop as his son sold us one of the horned masks above, in a slightly smaller size. We really had no idea where we were going or what we were doing or what we planned to see. We knew of a highly recommended German Restaurant overlooking the lake but it was not the day for sauerkraut.
Walking is how you get around in rural Mexico. For longer distances you take a collectivo, a low slung Nissan van with less ground clearance than our Promaster and pay a few pennies to ride the route. They were everywhere on this road illustrating once again the economic status pf the towns along the way.
I read of the despair in the US as gas prices rise. Gas is regulated in Mexico and the price is stuck at the moment around four bucks a gallon. For us gas prices are a large part of our budget but if we want today less we drive less. We aren't commuting and we have no need to move if we don't want to. For many Mexicans evading internal combustion is still a good option though from experience I prefer gas engines to four legged engines in my life. I'm lucky I can afford to choose.
We drive where we wish in these villages. Our van is no wider than the collectivo buses that squeeze through the narrow streets. Parking is less regulated in small towns so sometimes we have to pause and hold our breath as we squeeze through. We are glad to be in a van where a box truck even might have trouble sometimes. A Class C RV, one with the big body and overhang above the cab is outside our comfort zone as it would be too limiting. We have to carry bicycles and park outside town and leave Rusty in the RV. We would stop less and explore much less.
I should point out I used to drive 18 wheelers in San Francisco (and have a Teamster pension to prove it!) so narrow streets and backing up or awkward parking are perhaps easier for me than for experienced drivers who can't parallel park!
We enjoy following the television series called Yellowstone and there he was racing his horse round an arena. We didn't see Mr Dutton anywhere nearby though.
Rusty's prayer: "God get me out of this 'orrible tin box please." He loves sniffing the air, checking the grass and taking a nap along the road. If it weren't for Layne's discipline we'd never get anywhere.
You know the stereotype of the lazy Mexican? Yes well you would laugh at it like we do when you see the labor they undertake for a wage that would make you an instant union member. And they labor in the hot sun too.
Not all Mexicans are poor, there is a burgeoning middle class too.
We paused while the car slowly pushed the cows to the side and edged forward. No horns, no yelling, no impatience, just wait and it will get done. Imagine this scene on the Overseas Highway.
If you're wondering where the lake is we only got glimpses of it across the dry landscape. It wasn't far away but the road never ran along the waterfront. Isla Janitzio with the tower on top, is in the center of the picture below:
By late afternoon we came to the town of Tzintzuntzan and there we shopped, saw pyramids and ate a late lunch. For today I have inflicted too many pictures and words, only because the WiFi at Villa Patzcuaro is very strong and Layne is busy reorganizing and upending the cabin so I have to suffer sitting at our table under some pines in the dappled sunlight making myself useful here. It's a tough life. Not a drug cartel in sight, so no drama.
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