Friday- Day 1:

So we left early afternoonish on Friday filled up with Pemex’s finest and hit the toll road to Zacatecas. I’d bought a map in Sanborns which seemed to suggest that the more direct, one-lane route would be better but after a brief poll at Plaza Bonita, the pay-as-you-drive route seemed safer and faster. Sure enough before we knew it we were breezing through el Gran Tunal (what the Spanish called the vast area filled with tunas (prickly pears)) at breakneck speeds listening to all manner of podcasts. The fares were pretty hefty and I’d’ve been more accepting of them if I’d known they weren’t going to spend this cash on signs saying ‘Do not leave rocks in the middle of the road” every 20 kms. Who leaves rocks in the middle of the road? And will the kind of people who do it be able to read signs telling them not to? Aside from that the landscape was fantastic all the way, straight two or one-and-a-half lane highway through desert landscapes with huge cacti and other flora. Occasionally you’d see fauna too, but mainly of the roadkill variety… Another thing to watch for if you’re driving on a straight highway through Mexico, is to cover your left arm. I had a shocking case of trucker’s tan after 3 hours odd of radiation…

We arrived at 6ish and blimey, what a place. You enter through the relatively modern Guadalupe, Zacatecas then suddenly get to Zacatecas, Zacatecas which welcomes you with non-stop ornate architecture, fountains, aqueducts, statues and you name it all in the local pink stone (cantera). It’s like suddenly arriving at a mixture of Seville, Guanajuato and Santiago (Chile) all at once. Various strict regulations on what you can and can’t do with your house mean that even the omnipresent OXXO’s (Mexico’s Spar/7-11) blend in… Sita navigated us to a hotel (La Condesa, $200/night, 3.5 Lulus ) and after dumping our stuff we set out to find a cantina…

View from our hotel

Finding a cantina took us through the centre of the city as the sun began to set and you could watch the cantera take on different shades as you went. As it got darker the UNESCO-funded floodlights lit up the facades of the endless buildings and sights, from the cathedral right up to ‘La Bufa” on top of the hill overlooking the city. La Bufa is the old Spanish word for some kind of entrail or other, because from certain angles if you’re extremely hungry after crossing the desert it looks vaguely like something you might put in a stew. It makes a change from the anthropomorphic names they used in the States, (see Tetons) , ah, les Francais…

We eventually happened upon a cantina with swing doors (they’re the best) called La cantina de refugio or reforma or descanso or somesuch replete with pictures of old Zacatecas and full of very welcoming regulars. No sooner had we ordered our Mezcal (we’re not in Jalisco anymore…) and Coronas than we were asked where we were from and got chatting about 70s English prog-rock. Like you do… One of our new friends was an artist originally from Yugoslavia and t’other a Zapatista union lawyer. To prove his credentials, the artist did a cartoon of us on a napkin. Sarita was looking the other way chatting to someone else so the similarity is fleeting. I like to think I look nothing like the one he did of me. And I also learnt, if you’re going to be drawn for 90 seconds. It’s best not to keep doing something you don’t want in the picture. Stuffing your face with crisps for example… I’ll scan it and post it later. Anyroad, we were invited back to the artist’s house who had a gorgeous view of the cathedral, now fully lit and an extensive CD collection. We stopped for some beers, then he gave us some of his art and persuaded us to follow them round the city to take in more sights.

Through these two well connected Zacatecans we got into the theatre and met some of the musicians who’d played there. We ducked and dived through various little callejones and got to Las Quince Letras cantina. It’s called the 15 letters because there’s 15 letters in ‘Las Quince Letras”. We were starving by this time but managed a round or two as everyone’s communication skills slowly waned. We arranged to meet the next day at the same time and went to a restaurant recommended by everyone even though it was practically empty and ordered our meal. My filet mignon wrapped in bacon wasn’t half bad, nor the avocado and shrimp started. Sita made the mistake of asking for a cactus based dish and wasn’t too impressed. Cacti are not for eating, if you ask me. Basically the only way to prepare them is to boil them until they stop tasting like cactus. Again, this is fine for SAS style survival handbook territory, but if you’re in a restaurant stick to food stuffs which evolved to be eaten not to survive drought and to repell predators…

Stumbling home from the restaurant at midnightish felt a lot like stumbling round Seville because of the lighting, but a lot safer. We found the posada, crashed into bed and watched the latest LOST on my laptop. NB. We didn’t touch the interweb for almost 3 days, and somehow it got along without us. The laptop was along purely as a photo repository.

Shall finish this later… photos round flickr in the interim…