Breakdowns and Bullfights

  Zacatecas, Mexico
Friday, September 21, 2007

ello everyone!  I am writing this first blog entry from outside the United States from the city of Zacatecas, Mexico. 

Leaving Austin

Dad and I crossed over into Mexico nine days ago and, whew, what a nine days.  In the first 48 hours here, as we rode from the border down to the town of Real de Catorce, I got to have several firsts. 

My first time in Mexico.

My first speeding ticket in Mexico--I got busted for I'm not sure what, but it involved about half an hour of being firmly chastized by a fat, sweating cop in the middle of the road who wrote me a speeding ticket and, just for good measure, wrote one for my Dad.  Since we were only going about 20mph at the time I figure he was just having a bad day.  An extremely helpful (and bilingual) passerby, however, helped get everything straightened out.

My first time going off of pavement--going up the 25km of extremely bumpy cobblestones to the old, formerly abandoned mining town of Real de Catorce.  Apparently, up until a couple of years ago, it was nearly a ghost town, but now it's slowly being remade into a touristy little retreat.  That 25km of cobblestones helps keep the place pretty isolated. While we were there we had the great good luck to fall into the tail end of a wedding party, which was a lot of fun.

Wedding

My first breakdown of the trip--Yep, heading back down the 25km of cobblestones the seal on my rear shock blew out.  For those of you not down with the motorcycle lingo, this is very bad and requires that the shock be replaced.  Luckily, it doesn't leave me stranded, so my Dad and I limped 300km south to the town of Zacatecas.

    All of that in the first 48 hours in Mexico.  At this point, as you may imagine, I was a bit frazzled and pissed off that my bike broke.  After hurredly working the phones I figured out that I would have to have the new shock shipped to Laredo, TX and take the bus on a 1000 mile round-trip to pick it up.  Luckily, I had three days to wait before I had to do this.  Yet more luckily we found ourselves in one of the most pleasant cities I've been to.  Most luckly of all, this all happened on the eve of the eve of Mexican Independence Day, so we were in for a great few days.

A Week in Zacatecas:
    So much has happened here over the last week I don't even know where to start.  The night we arrived the Independence day celebrations were starting to kick off and Dad and I found ourselves following a small brass band through the streets of the city.  It was my first introduction to Mexico's deep love for marching bands.  A love that I fully support.  Every time I hear a marching band (at least once per day) the supressed band geek inside of me swells with pride.
    The next morning, sitting on the roof of our hostel, Dad and I met a simply wonderful man named Paul from Northern California.  Paul lived in Mexico in the mid 1950s and had become a bullfighting afficianado.  It just so happened that he was going to a bullfight that afternoon and he was more than willing to let us tag along.  Now I'm sure that some of you (most of you?) have strong feelings against bullfighting but I figured that this would be a once-in-a-lifetime chance to watch a bullfight with someone who knew what was going on and could actually explain what I was seeing.

Dad and Paul

    I will come clean and admit it.  I thoroughly enjoyed the bullfight.  It's not really a sport at all (since the outcome is not in doubt.  The bull always dies), it's much more like watching a dance, where the toreador is leading the bull and attempting to make the bull look as good as it can look.  It is an intricate dance and can be very dramatic.  The final moments, when the toreador attempts to kill the bull with a single stroke of his sword, is incredibly captivating.  Now, feel free to judge me harshly, but I'll stand by my pro-bullfighting stance.

Preparing for the Kill

Macho personified

   


   




    That very evening, after watching the bullfight, was Independence Day-Eve, and a GIANT party throughout the city.  I enjoyed the festivities first from the roof of the hostel, where I had a great view of the fireworks, and then from the street in the middle of the massive throngs of partying Mexicans.  I'll tell you, Mexicans sure know how to have a damn good time.  And they like to have their good times very loudly (aka more marching bands).

    The next few days my Dad and I spent soaking up the charms of this fantastic city.  Very laid back and beautiful and, most importantly, a lot of excellent food everywhere--if you're ever in Zacatecas make sure to try the goat soup.  Last Tuesday I headed up to Laredo and picked up my new shock, arriving back in Zacatecas early Wednesday morning.  That afternoon my dad and I took our bike over to another hotel owned by an increadibly nice man named Manuel.

My motorcycle savior

I'd been tipped off by someone on the internet that Manuel owned the same bike as I do and that he could be of great help to a motorcyclist in need.  He was all of that and more.  He let me use the lobby of his hotel to do the repairs to my bike and helped out with tools and a large plastic box (essential for replacing the shock).  All he wanted in returne was to photocopy my Dads shop manual.  Getting the bike fixed would've involved a lot more suck if not for him.

    So, that's it.  Nine days in Mexico (it feels like it's been a month, but in a good way).  Tomorrow Dad and I are off to points south and, when there're things to report, I shall report them forthwith.

Till then I hope you all are well,

Matt