23 october 2004
33 autumn 48 space age
10 hunter moon
S a t u r d a y 1. At last we are here - I am here. In Morelia, Michoacan. I promised myself I would just rest in the bus station and think, not rush off into town, and so I am. Exactly that. Over a cup of coffee from a little hissing espresso machine at the bus terminal snack bar (a good omen - freshly expressed café hecho al instante yes). With this new page, I turn away from that horrific monster mass of another thousand words (thousands, rather) that I wrote during the36no, the 40 hours on the bus; aya, papa, I move on from that behemoth, that gargantuan mess of hypergraphic pablum & logomanic drool, and simply sit here, reflect on what shall I do now, now that I am finally HERE, and sipping this delicious cup of jo, plan my next move. I bought a newspaper to accompany my thought. MILENIO (from Mexico City). And so I learn that Walmart, it seems, plans to build another new superstore. But this one will be in Teotihuacan. Long live NAFTA! What's the argument, then? Why, the usual: jobs versus destruction of an old "main street" - but with a twist. Now, the old main street is 2000 years old! Of course, they're not going to build on the pyramids, but, rather, in the suburban zone. A zone that still remains unexcavated. A zone hiding who knows what archeological discoveries for future generations to explore. We're slashing prices and breaking new (old) ground! Ya ya ya ya basta. REad now, write later. 2. Taxi to the centro. Twenty-four pesos, and yes, the driver says he knows where the Hotel Colonial is. We roll around the north side of town, through typical modern Mexican architecture of cement block and painted plaster. Turn right and cruise downhill and then gradually uphill into the old centro, as buildings around us grow steadily older and older until, yes, here it is, you've crossed over that invisible line into the colonial center of town, the ancient very noble and loyal city of Morelia (antes Valladolid), 460 years old... the old centro is, in fact, by United Nations decree, a UNESCO cultural patrimony of the world. Whatever that means. Sure sounds good in Spanish! FOUR HUNDRED AND SIXTY YEARS OLD (well, not allllll the buildings, some of the newer ones are only one or two centuries... heh) blossoming in full-blown colonial magnificence of crumbling stone walls, doors, windows, rooves, oh my, churches and houses and hole-in-the-wall shops, ancient convents reborn as - is that the casa de la cultura? Yes, señor, that is. The ex-convent, yes. And here is the hotel I selected. Hotel Colonial. Supposedly very economical but with private baths, still... why yes, señor, says the concierge at front desk, yes, we have a room. And so it is. I check it out first, and see what it is. Small, but with bath, and no TV (cheaper this way). One hundred and ten pesos (ten dollars). The ceiling is about a thousand miles high (well, twenty feet). I'll take it, thank you! And I take a lukewarm shower and change my clothes at last. Been wearing the same ones on the bus since day before yesterday. Ewwwwweee. That feels good to get clean again. Wash the long hours and miles away, along with the frustration of those two lackadasical drivers who kept spending too much time in every station stop along the way until we arrived FOUR HOURS LATE at noon instead of seven. What? You say that's five hours? Oh well. No, no, now I am here, so wash it away, and praise God and my leave of absence too, yes. I shall even scrub off my usual madness of guidebooks and leave them behind in my room when I go out walking. Just go out the door and wander into the heart of this huge colonial city center. After all those hours reading maps and studying descriptions not necessarily in that order I have my own internal guide map not-book engraved into the brain cells of gray matter between my ears. I don't even carry my little backpack this first day, no. Just a little notebook stuffed in my pocker to write my notes in (THAT obsession I will NOT leave behind) and yes, money to buy a meal or two. Here I go.
3. My God it's like something out of a dream! So many, so many, so much, so many old buildings, everywhere you turn, everywhere you look, nary a new one in sight, and alllll remodeling must be done in colonial style (whatever the hell that really is I don't know there is such a fascinating variety of stonework and plaster and well...) rich palaces, towering churches, middleclass shops and homes, hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of antique constructs one after another after another, piled up side by side by side along narrow stone-paved streets (unfortunately full of cars, trucks, minibusses and your occasional big tour bus laboring to make the corner...) old stone walls and doors clustered around little plazas and big plazas, most with trees and fountains, and in the center of the old town the vast plaza de armas surrounded by arches and arches and arches - los portales del corazon de la ciudad . Overwhelmed by this surfeit of old architecture, I wander off into Corregidora, a street one block beyond Allende (which runs along the back side of the main plaza de armas) and some three or four or five - I don't remember exactly how I got here now - some three or four or five blocks beyond the cathedral and all that elegant fancy archway and tower mess I wander into a more modest neighborhood - I almost said "older" heh heh I wander along Corregidora however it's spelled and stumble onto a little neighborhood restaurant - cliche tourists always stumble onto cliché (look Ma, local accent) neighborhood restaurants all over the world yes we are all the same and food is good to eat everywhere the same yes and the meal of the day - la comida del día o la comida corrida - your soup, main course, and drink - is only 25 pesos here (two dollar & thirty cent) and yes, here, while I eat, I write a draft leading toward this text even like my feet led me here to eat the waiter sees and asks and I tell. Poet. Que interesante, señor; aquí estamos para servirle en su casa. It is sometime around four p.m. .................... touchy-feeley government tourism map giving to photos etc .................... 4. sunset and a flicker of lightning from that towering cloud overhead toward the mountain Tlaloc rain god the feathery anvil-top of the thunderhead spreads above us from charcoal gray into brilliant coral pink a few, faint drops touch my face hit the paper you cannot see this paper you cannot glimpse this radiant city shining rosy-red stone in evening sunset glow I am ambivalent, now that I forgot my camera yeah shut up David I forgot the camera, okay? I'm a moron so yell away yell away anyway............... I can never be as smart as you (turnabout turnabout) SHUT UP MIKEY we're on vacation here! sorrryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy where was I oh yes I am ambivalent digression that I forgot to bring a camera da nichevo ni modo can't be helped nothing to do about it now no No NO I am NOT going to buy one can Not afford it shut up already where was I where am I in the tiny plaza in front of the market on the northeast side of downtown by the corner of Revolución and 20 de Noviembre just before the near end of the old aqueduct this one was real once upon a time and they left the arches standing but it's out of sight of here right now down a block and around the corner yes. Old buildings all around me are reborn as banks, shoestores, pizza joints, etcetera etcet etc this is a working end of town not too touristic (except for the aqueduct down around the corner out of sight) and as a market, on Saturday night, a focus for family activity children running around the little fountain black shirted special police lounging around their black pickup the lines on this page are not and never can be long enough to say it all of what it is not at all not all in one breath never t h e n flicker lighting f l a s h Tlaloc thunderstorm except this ain't Aztec territory so they probably call the rain something else altogether other name, word, god but water none the less thunderstorm looming over distant mountain reaching toward this valley city where streetlamps are lighting in their own sequences to kiss the night and I am heading back to the hotel before the storm hits town. 5. a few blocks west, half an hour later I simply cannot hurry. See those twin church towers lit up off over there, beyond too many prepositions around the corner up another street one more block... there, go there, walk past the front facade, through the little plaza, trees and fountain, and then turn watch the lightning echo brilliance across the sky behind the shining towers floodlight shining towers in the night FLASH flicker... rumble The storm is drawing closer, slowly, steadily, closer... But everyone out for the evening promenade seems to know it ain't here yet.... Old buildings around the plaza are painted shades of yellow and red pastel or left plain, raw, mellow native stone . Yes, of course, children are laughing and running around the fountain. It is Saturday night, time to be out and about with your family. The water of life keeps on trickling and splashing splashing and trickling two ladies stop to admire the illuminated facade a girl rolls by with a little shopping cart full of sweet rolls a family up on the church steps is hugging and kissing and photographing each other all over and over again the trees in the plaza nod and whisper in the breeze in this brilliant night graced by faint drops of rain trees and storm older and wiser than any of us at all David is right we are all morons ------------------------------- ay Tere! este sí es el tipo de lugar donde quiero que vivamos juntos para siempre 6. When I sleep tonight, my first night, it will rain. The violent CRACK and Crashing rumble of thunder overhead shall awaken me and the soft wash of rain in the hotel courtyard lull me back into dreams I cannot quite remember....