Hanging out on the roof of one of Pepe's friend's houses, under an overhang which sheltered the open top washing machine and a hammock, watching the rain and the sun setting over the cathedral in the distance.
Walking around central Colima sunday night with Pepe, his friend Gerardo and his other friend who is studying dance at the local uni. This dancer friend also invited along another three young dancers all in their early 20s. The seven of us piled into Pepe's sedan and we drove to the city center at night in a very light rain. We walked around the central plaza which was packed with people and vendors and a banda band playing in the central gazebo. It was the annual empanada festival and the plaza was ringed with bakers selling their wares. We sat on the steps of the church and chatted and watched the fluorescent lit park revelers and families stroll around.
Sitting with with those kids later in a small snack shop and enjoying sopetitos which are basicaly tiny open face tacos on thick fried corn tortillas. The dancers, on student budgets, ordered vanilla atole accompanied by a tiny tamale.
We stopped at a home/workshop where the girls picked up flowing white dresses trimmed with green for folkloric dancing, and then bitched all the way back to the apartment about how cheap the quality was for how the expensive the dresses were. Back at Gerardo's apartment, they tried on the dresses and danced a bit, practicing the folkloric dance twirls and the fluttering of the dresses. Gerardo pulled out his guitar and and the girls sang. I did my best at a rendition of "Across the Universe."
The next day, we picked up a friend of Pepe's, a young woman closer to my age (Pepe is 24), who was very talkative and fair skinned, although she spoke Spanish rapidly with a really strange accent. It turned out she was actually a masters student from Florence, Italy, working on her thesis in political corruption here in Mexico. We picked up a few beers and hit the back roads north, heading up the mountains and the area close to the active volcano, el volcan de fuego (aside- really, they couldn't come up with a better name?? this is the most active volcano in Mexico, and they call it the Volcano of Fire? Well, sure, ok, its no el Volcan de Queso Fundido, but come on).
We took winding and empty rural back country roads, listening to music, drinking, and chatting, and then pulled into a campground around a lake where we drank more beers and ate snacks and chatted while enjoying the quiet and green surroundings.
On the drive back, we stopped at a cafe in the middle of nowhere, the front of a big, quiet coffee processing plantation, and had coffee on the lawn in front, watching the clouds roll across the green mountains.
We spent a fair amount of time dealing with Pepe's cat, Benito, a massive orange persian cat, which must be miserable in the heat under that massive coat. Benito had eye problems so we took him to the vet. Pepe picked him up and set him down in the floor in the front seat, and that's how we rolled. Benito is one of the slowest moving cats I've ever seen. He doesn't even run to food, so he didn't move around much at my feet.
The vet's office was an office open to the street a bit like a tiled garage, where Pepe plunked Benito down on a wooden table for the vet and his assistant to take a look while the cars drove by in the street a few meters away. We also hit a few pharmacies afterwards to look for the anticonjectivitis drops the vet prescribed.
Pepe's house, like most of the houses in Colima, doesn't have A/C, so they simply leave the windows open all the time. The mosquitoes weren't actually too bad at night, especially with the the fan, although the one night I slept in a hammock I had to transfer to the camp cot because I kept being bit in the ass through the open net.
I spent a lot of time simply sitting and reading. Colima is a really quiet place, without the ambient sounds of traffic, helicopters, airplanes, vendors selling and buying with microphones. Pepe lent me his collection of magazines about Colima history and I finished a short book about existential horror by a Japanese author.
One afternoon, I spent walking around the center by myself. I had coffee on a patio overlooking the main square, and outside one of the museums, on a stone ledge in the shade of a tree, I simply sat and watched the life of the city. People waiting for the bus and boarding, the vendor selling tejuinos, people hailing taxis, people out walking. It felt good to be slow and to take time.
The night before I left, it was dry storming- no rain fell, but there was tons of lightning lighting up the sky. Pepe took me to the piedra lisa (slide rock) which was a volcanic rock which legend holds, if you slide down, you will return one day to Colima.
Walking around central Colima sunday night with Pepe, his friend Gerardo and his other friend who is studying dance at the local uni. This dancer friend also invited along another three young dancers all in their early 20s. The seven of us piled into Pepe's sedan and we drove to the city center at night in a very light rain. We walked around the central plaza which was packed with people and vendors and a banda band playing in the central gazebo. It was the annual empanada festival and the plaza was ringed with bakers selling their wares. We sat on the steps of the church and chatted and watched the fluorescent lit park revelers and families stroll around.
Sitting with with those kids later in a small snack shop and enjoying sopetitos which are basicaly tiny open face tacos on thick fried corn tortillas. The dancers, on student budgets, ordered vanilla atole accompanied by a tiny tamale.
We stopped at a home/workshop where the girls picked up flowing white dresses trimmed with green for folkloric dancing, and then bitched all the way back to the apartment about how cheap the quality was for how the expensive the dresses were. Back at Gerardo's apartment, they tried on the dresses and danced a bit, practicing the folkloric dance twirls and the fluttering of the dresses. Gerardo pulled out his guitar and and the girls sang. I did my best at a rendition of "Across the Universe."
The next day, we picked up a friend of Pepe's, a young woman closer to my age (Pepe is 24), who was very talkative and fair skinned, although she spoke Spanish rapidly with a really strange accent. It turned out she was actually a masters student from Florence, Italy, working on her thesis in political corruption here in Mexico. We picked up a few beers and hit the back roads north, heading up the mountains and the area close to the active volcano, el volcan de fuego (aside- really, they couldn't come up with a better name?? this is the most active volcano in Mexico, and they call it the Volcano of Fire? Well, sure, ok, its no el Volcan de Queso Fundido, but come on).
We took winding and empty rural back country roads, listening to music, drinking, and chatting, and then pulled into a campground around a lake where we drank more beers and ate snacks and chatted while enjoying the quiet and green surroundings.
On the drive back, we stopped at a cafe in the middle of nowhere, the front of a big, quiet coffee processing plantation, and had coffee on the lawn in front, watching the clouds roll across the green mountains.
We spent a fair amount of time dealing with Pepe's cat, Benito, a massive orange persian cat, which must be miserable in the heat under that massive coat. Benito had eye problems so we took him to the vet. Pepe picked him up and set him down in the floor in the front seat, and that's how we rolled. Benito is one of the slowest moving cats I've ever seen. He doesn't even run to food, so he didn't move around much at my feet.
The vet's office was an office open to the street a bit like a tiled garage, where Pepe plunked Benito down on a wooden table for the vet and his assistant to take a look while the cars drove by in the street a few meters away. We also hit a few pharmacies afterwards to look for the anticonjectivitis drops the vet prescribed.
Pepe's house, like most of the houses in Colima, doesn't have A/C, so they simply leave the windows open all the time. The mosquitoes weren't actually too bad at night, especially with the the fan, although the one night I slept in a hammock I had to transfer to the camp cot because I kept being bit in the ass through the open net.
I spent a lot of time simply sitting and reading. Colima is a really quiet place, without the ambient sounds of traffic, helicopters, airplanes, vendors selling and buying with microphones. Pepe lent me his collection of magazines about Colima history and I finished a short book about existential horror by a Japanese author.
One afternoon, I spent walking around the center by myself. I had coffee on a patio overlooking the main square, and outside one of the museums, on a stone ledge in the shade of a tree, I simply sat and watched the life of the city. People waiting for the bus and boarding, the vendor selling tejuinos, people hailing taxis, people out walking. It felt good to be slow and to take time.
The night before I left, it was dry storming- no rain fell, but there was tons of lightning lighting up the sky. Pepe took me to the piedra lisa (slide rock) which was a volcanic rock which legend holds, if you slide down, you will return one day to Colima.
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