Zacatecas and its beauty.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

We rest for a little while and we’re back out on the road. Dad wants to show us Zacatecas, Zacatecas, the state capital and all it has to offer. Back on the bus for another hour ride, here everyone travels by bus to get anywhere. There are people with trucks and cars but it is most definitely a luxury. Most of what we have seen so far has been farm land and thank god for that because the food here is excellent. I don’t ever remember having food with so much flavor. E does not like papaya but here he can’t seem so get enough. The fruit is excellent, so sweet and ready to be eaten at any moment. After we arrive at the bus terminal dad decides he wants to visit his sister who has an electrical business right around the corner from the bus station. At my aunt’s business we are greeted by one of my cousins. I recognize that he’s a cousin because he say’s so but I can’t seem to think of his name. I haven’t seen some of my family in over 23 years and others in over 15, so some of my younger cousin’s I’ve never even met. I whisper to dad, “What’s his name?” and he is quick to remind me. The last time I saw him he was about 2 years old so I really don’t remember him. Now he is a 25 year old man on crutches from a soccer injury. We wait for aunt, uncle and older cousin to arrive. My older male cousin arrives and I almost don’t recognize him either, he looks just like his father and I almost introduce him to E as my uncle. My aunt arrives, everyone greets once again and she offers us one of her employees to take us to the next part of our journey. Dad wants us to see Zacatecas at night, it’s is early in the afternoon and we will be touring one of the city’s most cherished landmarks “La Bufa”.

Stories tell that La Bufa which is an old fort at the top of the tallest mountain in Zacatecas was the spot where General Pancho Villa defeated the Spanish or French army (can’t remember which just now) and prevented them from taking over the state of Zacatecas. The place is filled with beautiful architecture, a museum and lots of statutes in honor of the heroes of those days. You can see the entire city on top of that mountain and it takes our breath away at the splendor and the beauty of such a place. The history and the life can all be taken in from one majestic place. We can see every church right from where we are. Some large and some small but all built to honor a god and a church witch claimed to save their savage souls and ascend them to a better place than this one. Standing here in such majesty I am tempted to ask myself why I want to go back to living in San Bernaghetto and all its misery. We climb every part of the mountain and end up at the “Telesferico” or the tram. There is a tram here that cuts across through most of the city and takes you from the top of the highest mountain at La Bufa and drops you off at the highest part of the city near “La Mina del Eden” or the Mine of Eden. Dad, E and I wait for the sun to go down and we watch the city start turning it’s lights on, in the distance we hear music and wonder where it’s coming from. Even at the top of the mountain you can hear and feel the city come alive. As we wait for the night to come we decide to treat ourselves to a drink at the very fancy bar that is located at the top of the entrance to the tram on the mountain. The place is beautiful and looks expensive. We are all on a bit of a budget since this immigration process has taken a toll on all our wallets, but we talk ourselves into it asking each other when we might have the opportunity to do this again so we should take advantage of every opportunity. E and I decide to have what is native to the place “Zacatecas Mescal” it is a type of alcohol that comes from the same plant that they make tequila from only it’s not as refined and has a higher alcohol content. Dad has a virgin “michelada” all juice and no beer but even that tastes great. We all toast to a safe and speedy return home and enjoy the beauty of the city at the top of this historic mountain. Total for the price of two mescal’s, a virgin michelada less than $12 USD, or the price of one of those drinks back home.

Feeling better and a little happier with some booze in our belly it is now time to descend down the tram and into the city. I know they call Las Vegas the city of lights but right now this city takes the name with all its beauty and splendor. Dad starts to talk to the tram operator (like he does with every stranger we meet) and it turns out he knows my grandfather and our family. The man was originally from Mexico City and after traveling to Zacatecas looking for work he ended up in Ojocaliente working at my dad’s uncle’s farm (I hope you all are still with me). My dad’s uncle being the only man he knew and trusted in this new place soon became like family and when it was time to ask for his girl friends hand in marriage it was my dad’s uncle (whom he was named after) who he asked to go with him to speak to her family. The man is kind and says he owes a great deal to dad’s uncle and that he was very sad to hear of his passing last year. Dad and the man spend a moment in silence remembering his uncle while E and I are busy enjoying the city and the tram ride. The man is so genuinely happy to have come across my dad and he kindly tells my father in words only the older generation now uses “I am here at your service, and if you all ever need or want a place to stay in this great city I offer my humble home which is at your disposal any time”. My father offers the same and tells him any time either in Ojocaliente or the United States to give him a call and we will be at his disposal. They don’t exchange information it is simply understood that if you want to find someone, you do. Or perhaps it was just a formality you say to someone; either way it was a beautiful gesture. We ask him where all the music is coming from since we can still hear it above the tram and he tells us they are “Callejonadas”. People rent a band and they go up and down the street drinking all over town with a band in toe. We smile and laugh a little at the very thought of having your own band following you around as you get drunk all over town.

We arrive at the top of the city now and begin to travel down towards the heart of the city and attempt to find where the music is coming from. E is fascinated by every coble stone street and building. He wants to take pictures of everything but unfortunately we are almost out of battery and we left the charger in Ojo. We turn a corner and there it is … the party, right in front of a beautiful church. We stop to look at the procession thinking it’s a wedding or some important event and we begin to notice a dozen or two teenagers taking shots from a “jarro” (traditional cup made of clay) around their necks. The band starts to move and the people follow. We are most definitely intrigued and talk each other into following them for just a little while. As we follow I notice a donkey with two jugs on its back and a man pouring stuff into the small jarros around people’s necks. I see a woman with lots of the jarros hanging from her arm and I ask her how much the jarros are assuming that this party requires an entry fee. The woman starts a conversation with me and explains that it is not a “public” party per se and there was no fee for the jarro but rather it was her son’s 15^th birthday and he was celebrating with his friends. I explain my ignorance and tell her we are technically not from here and that’s why I ask so many questions. She asks me where we’re from and I reply California, she smiles and say “Bienvenidos a Zacatecas” and offer me three small jugs to put around our necks. I ask more questions and she explains, she doesn’t know the legal drinking age but she does know that these parties are common among 15 year olds, weddings and baptisms. The families of the person or persons being celebrated hires a band and either the guy with the donkey and the mescal or simply brings their own booze. They pick a path to follow and the band, the booze and the people stop at every church and street corner to dance, celebrate and drink. Honestly, it’s a beautiful tradition that you have to experience personally to really appreciate. The music is loud and people come outside their front doors to watch the procession go by. I explain the tradition to E and dad and they laugh, I hand them their jarros and let the drinking begin. E follows the burro/donkey like they are best friends. Cars go by and there is an understanding that if you get stuck in front or behind one of these things you simply wait. People, donkeys and musical instruments all exist in the middle of the street and cars which normally have the right away don’t now. We stop, drink mescal from the donkeys’ jugs (lol) and dance. In this moment I am reminded about all the good times I have yet to have with my husband. He is truly an amazing man and my best friend and the world’s best travel buddy. E is not scared to try things or be lost, he just enjoys every moment and takes life as it comes. I want to cry and tell him I love him but it’s such a joyous occasion I hold back on the tears and just tell him I love him.

We walked with the party for what seemed like forever, drinking and dancing but it was late and our stomachs began to remind us that we needed food. We veer away from the party and start walking through the coble stone streets once more. More people, more life, laughs chit chat all can be heard through the night in this magical city. Turning a corner here can be dangerous because as we turned one we ran across another party on the street, we can’t help but stop and stare at the men with giant jugs of booze and wonder what the celebration is here. A man notices us and watches us takes pictures he notices we don’t belong to the party and rather than ask us to leave or ignore us he asks us where we’re from. We repeat California and with a smile he replies “Bienvenidos a Zacatecas” another welcome from a stranger in to this great city. He tells us he’s the god father of the “quinceañera” and he offers us more jugs so we can join the celebration. I show him the jarros from the last party we were at and he insists we have a drink, calls his “compadre” over and the other man is very happy to announce that he is the father of the 15 year old girl whose party this is for and that we should join them. Again, it is repeated that we are from California and more welcomes erupt and mescal is poured into our jarros before we can even agree. Dad doesn’t drink so either E or I have to take the extra shot (poor us). We thank them for letting us celebrate with them and explain that we are hungry and in search of food. They insist once again that we join the party and there we go again, we follow the second party, drink, and dance and while the party turns a corner we duck and run out into a different street. We feel bad about bailing on such hospitable people but our bellies are starving and we can smell food in the distance. It’s close to 11 pm and you would think its plain daylight because there are people of all ages everywhere in the city all enjoying the night. Here we wonder where all the violence we heard about is but are thankful it’s not here, at least not tonight.

You can feel the energy in the air and it’s hard not to appreciate all the history that is visible on every statue, park and monument here. We finally arrive at a street with so much food we don’t know what to choose but we gravitate towards what we have been craving all day, tacos. We sit and watch the people and the hustle and bustle of the city. We have a great meal full of tacos and salsa, lots of salsa. You can get an order of 5 tacos for $15 pesos the equivalent of under $1.50 USD. Alpastor, Bisteq, Cesos, Macisa, Desebrada…all just a few of the ways they cook meat on this street corner and we gobble it all up. We almost feel like just roaming the streets and seeing what the night brings us but we are reminded by our bodies that we need sleep and we need rest. It’s too late to go back to Ojocaliente now, buses stop running to other smaller towns from the main city mainly because of the recent history o violence. Cars, trucks and buses have been stopped by gangs wanting to take whatever valuables they have. If people resist then it is common to kill them. The danger is out there but tonight we don’t want to think about it. We pull into the nearest hotel and call it a night.