To be told "you have to visit" a place gets my back up. Half of me is curious and half of me dreads the experience. If I have to visit a place it usually means everyone else and her brother have already done so and it's place ready to receive tourists with open arms provided they have open wallets. I don't mind over paying when I am traveling, to me it is the tax we pay for the privilege, and helping people with nothing and not much opportunity for more seems the least I can do. But to come face to face with a barrage of open hands at he end of extended arms does not feel so great. Days like those I sympathize with the hero/billionaires of our bloated culture who must feel like everyone they meet wants some of their ill gotten gains.
We had to visit Santa Clara del Cobre, Saint Clare of Copper, a twenty minute drive on a broad four lane highway from Pátzcuaro, the city that won't loosen its grip on us. Thus I dreaded making the drive as much as I enjoy the driving experience in Mexico.
Highway 120 out of Pátzcuaro is its own ambush and we paid them a buck for their performance coming and going. Leaving town we had the juggler and coming back to the campground in town we passed a man on stilts, who stands all day juggling in traffic as far as I could tell. On the outskirts of Santa Clara Layne shouted "Stop!" so I stopped and we bought a bottle of mescal, a faddishly popular alternative to tequila. I am not a fan of cactus alcohol as a rule but we did actually enjoy the $50 battle of San Juan tequila. Which goes to prove if you throw enough money at it...anything tastes good.
Layne bought the most refined he had at $25 a bottle. I suppose it will taste good but mescal used to be the poor man’s tequila when he needed to take the edge off another crappy day of indentured servitude so we shall see.
They say that if you own a piece of copper made in Mexico it probably came from this small village, a place that amounts to a wide spot along Highway 120 in the mountains of Michoacán. And they do sell a lot of it on the streets. We got a shot glass to replace our breakable glass model from home. Layne got me a small shaving mirror to replace the one that couldn’t take the rough roads and she bought van sized gifts. But I tell you this: sakes pressure was zero. Aside from the copper business this was a small clean orderly Mexican village. I really enjoyed it.
Rusty had a good time too but by the time we got back to the city (Pátzcuaro) he was exhausted. In Santa Clara he handled the street dogs, and there are lots, with aplomb. You’ll see them in the photos. They aren’t strays they all belong to people but they live in the streets, no leashes harnesses muzzles or fences. They are necessarily loved but they don’t live bad lives. The malnourished and mangy dogs have no homes and they are a sign of extreme poverty in Latin America.
We stopped in the central square and did some people watching to start. Layne took a circuit of copper shops and I made a few pictures.
You could describe Santa Clara as a classic stereotypical Mexican town in the way one might imagine Mexico from popular culture.
We stumbled into an early lunch. We rarely eat breakfast preferring to have lunch around 11:30 or noon with an early dinner when it is getting dark. In this case we saw the well known local types of tamales, corn meal steamed in banana leaves for a buck seventy five each (for us).
Her boyfriend kept her company as we took one with pork and one with cheese and red sauce on each with a dab of burning hot green sauce in the cup.
Does it look appetizing? Layne got us a couple of Coca Lites and we took a seat on a park bench.
The copper is beautiful there is no doubt. And Layne got her fill of it.
The copper work is pretty amazing and some of it is enameled in bright colors which is pretty but does cover the coppery nature of the pieces. Decisions! Decisions!
Earrings are always popular in this family...
Rusty has been quite amazing as he learns to cope with crowds, street dogs and hanging with us. I am very proud of his ability to learn.
We got coppered out and took to the back streets to loom at the town. I went black and white for effect for just a bit. The artist in me.
Layne loves shopping and we needed a few things so...this abarrote (convenience store) worked out for stuff we needed, and a conversation.
He worked two years in Idaho putting windows into travel trailers but more importantly he had bread rolls. Layne bought only one on the grounds we could share the calories. Who buys one bread roll?
We walked back to the main square for some people watching, and more importantly some ice cream.
Paletas de Michoacán are famous throughout Mexico as the ice creams on a stick. (There's a shop in Homestead which sells them and I would occasionally get my fix). I love the cream version not the agua (sorbet) of the strawberry flavor. I am so boring but Layne tries random flavors and usually scores big. 
She went with a bright yellow one covered in chocolate with bits of nuts and coconut embedded. I really wasn't jealous. Much. The Mexicans thought I was bizarre when I bit some off and shared it with my bud. I don't care.
When this guy came up I was thinking where is my 20 peso bill but he never asked for money but started chatting about this and that and we came around to dogs and he said they are god's creatures and deserve love and care. He told me a story about a friend who called his dog Zaragoza which happens to be this guy's name so when his friends called him by name the dog would respond. He thought this was the funniest thing. I felt really ashamed of myself for seeing him as a beggar and was glad we laughed so much together.
We started back to the van parked a few blocks away with Layne still looking for an avocado. The cartel's interference in the market has created high prices and shortfalls as the gangs try to launder their money.
She found a vegetable seller and naturally went in and asked for avocados.
He apologizes but he has no avocados and when she finishes shopping he says over there, she has avocados and he abandoned his store and walked Layne over to his competition. Mexicans do this all the time to us. By way of illustration this example from the other day: a guy saw us driving in circles trying to find a laundry in Pátzcuaro and he took time out of his day to flag us down and offer his help. A stranger putting Google maps right for us! In the US people are scared to talk to strangers, in Mexico it's a chance to be human.
Note my neat job of parking. Very gringo. Oh by the way no one touched it while we were gone having fun. Those Mexicans never stop going against stereotype.
1 comment:
Mescal has come a long way. I like the smokey flavors; reminds me of a Islay Scotch.
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