"What do you do while your in Guatamala??"

Relax, read, drink coffee, eat, walk around, sleep, REPEAT.

adios Mexico

"Life is only what one did everyday." - Jim Harrison "The Man Who Gave Up His Name"

"Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do." Johann Wolfgan Van Goethe (Quoted in "Between a Rock and a Hard Place")

"You must believe it, before you can imagine it." Mark Twain (Quoted in "Between a Rock and a Hard Place"

I had left Isla Holbox at twelve noon. The boat ride to the main land was an hour. Then three more hours on bus to Cancun. I was resting my head comfortably against the window of yet another bus heading to Tulum on Mexico's Carribean Sea when a loud "SMMASSSHH" jostled me away from my day dream. I looked out the window at what caused the noise and saw a red pickup truck careening across the highway. The driver had smashed against the bus on its right, then over corrected too hard to the left and rolled over several times before resting on its side off in the median of the highway. Everyone on the bus was stunned silent and the bus came to a hault on the right shoulder as fast as the brakes could be applied. Several passengers, along with the bus driver ran after the turned truck. I stayed on the bus starring out the window. Since I don't speak Spanish and already ten men ran out I figured it to be a bit obtrusive for me to join. An ambulance came. One person was OK, but word was there was four in the truck. I have no idea if they had seat belts on. If they didn't there was little chance they survived. An hour later another bus came and picked us up off the side of the highway. I never learned the fate of the trucks passengers.

The bus picking us up had a final destination of Playa Del Carmin, an hour north of Tulum. I had no copy of my original ticket because the bus drive on my first bus had taken it. At this point it was eight at night and I was tired and frustrated trying to explain in terrible Spanish that I had payed to get to Tulum. "Mi autobus fui un accidente y.....uhhhhhh ....voy a Tulum..." The blank stare of the bus employee indicates he has no idea what the fuck I am saying. I don't have the Spanish yet to explain my problem. Luckily after feeling on verge of frustrated tears I find an employee who knows of the accident and understands enough English to understand my problem. I got on a bus bound for Tulum successfully at 9:30 PM. At 10:30 PM I arrive in Tulum and walk to the only hostel I know of within walking distance. The cheap dorm beds are full. Of course their full. I decide to pay $350 pesos (about $30 US) for a private room. It is the most I've had to pay for a night on the whole trip. The room is terrible, the sheets are terrible, the shower and bathroom are worse. There are supposedly some lovely beaches and Mayan ruins in Tulum, but I was just so pissed and tired and annoyed from the days events I decided to skip it all and plan to flee Mexico in the morning. You better Belize it! I was reaffirmed of this decision when I was about the enjoy my "free" (350 peso) breakfast at the hostel and was handed two uncooked eggs and limp white toast. I cooked it myself and ran for the bus station.

Unfortunately things don't get better. I arrived in Chetumal, Mexico, one of the large cities before Belize unsure of my next move. Because of last nights terrible display of Spanish skill I was feeling very shy and introverted. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I wanted to be in Belize and speak English. I weakly asked someone about a bus to Corozal town, the first city I wanted to see in Belize (after now going there I have no idea why I ever wanted too). Later, while still in Belize I learned had been a bus to Corozal town and whoever spoke to me had the station had no idea what he was talking about. I should have waited in the long bus line, but I dejectedly walked out to take a taxi to the border. I had turned into a cowardly wimp, not really sure what I was doing. I gave the taxi my last $100 pesos and walked to Mexico's border exit. I knew there should be no charge for me to leave. I was way under the maximum stay of 180 days and I still had the paper indicating it so, however the officer demanded I pay an exit tax of $262 pesos or $20 US. Twenty bucks is a couple dollars less than $262 pesos. I knew this was all bull and this money was going right into the officers pocket, but what could I do? I asked por que?? (Why??) and got no response other than a repeat of what I owed. I had no pesos left. I unzipped my money belt to whip the officer in the face...I mean to take out my hidden US dollars and handed it over.

I walked out of Mexico and into Belize...or so I thought. Not yet. I was simply in the "free zone" A no country zone. No mans land. I still had to go through the Belize border. A taxi said he would take me to the true border, an ATM, in Corozal town, and get me to a hotel for $30 Belize ($15 US). I didn't try to barter, that was a fare deal and I got on. There wasn't a single other person in the border office and my passport was stamped after the only question asked of me was how long I was staying and where. I made up some answers and finally....UNBELIZEABLE...

In many ways Mexico was so easy...The cities are all safe, the transportion a breeze. Now was almost the start of my true adventure. My first Central American country. My first of my goal to see all seven on this trip. The major cities are more dangerous, the buses less than luxourious. The ability to walk everywhere safely no longer available. I was off to broaden my perspective on this life and world. To learn more about myself and "the Americas."

drunk sun love

I should leave the Yucatan to myself...Not share what it has meant to me and what it is. Keep it all to myself. But I'll continue to open myself up to you and share this experience that will forever shape the man that I am and the man I will become every tomorrow.

*Work on bettering yourself and you better the world*

Merida to Valladolid to Isla Mujeres to Cancun to Holbox

I'm not done yet with Mexico, but the time is ripening for me to move on. I love this country. I love the food, the people, the air. Love. This is the longest I've been in any other country other than the U.S. I'm glad it was Mexico first. Our neighbor. One of the two. A brother of North America. A country few of us will ever experience. Fear? Rubbish (as my English friends would say). If you want fear, fear why you worried about me going to Mexico. Why are those thoughts in your head? How did they get there? I still practice common sense. This trip is still barely one quarter accomplished, so of course something terrible could still happen, but I'm never going to let that "if" stop me from walking through that door. The learning experience is far too valuable. One life.

My very first blog talked about why I'm here. A strange coincidence I could not ignore. I sign. Trust me. I still have idea where I will end up from all this. When I get serious about thinking about my life after my money runs out and I think about how I should consider my career once again, I still feel a bit uncertain. Will I ever feel ready to be at the same job in the same place for 25 to 30 years? Is that my purpose? I drop thinking about it and realize I have a year and half of experiences still to live before that question needs to be answered.

Arriving back in Merida was special because it was the very first city I'd ever been too in Mexico. It's one of the reasons I've been nearly six weeks now in this country. The best part this time happened to be the free breakfast at the hostel I stayed at. Fresh cut pineapple, melon, papaya, watermelon, and bananas. Fresh hot rolls, cereal, and yogurt. Coffee and tea. ALL YOU CAN EAT. Oh...the best part, you also get a fresh two egg omelet with tomatoes, onions and and cheese. Caliente? Just ask for a sprinkle of habanero. I debated staying longer just for the breakfast. It would not have been an unreasonable decision, but I was on a fast leg on my journey and decided to revisit Valladolid for an evening, another city I visited on my first trip to Mexico in April of 2009. I re-rented a bike and returned to cenote Diztnup. Cenotes are underground caverns filled with crystal blue spring water. The cost to enter increased from $25 pesos to $52 in the year and a half since I was last here. I now didn't have enough money to hire a six year old to guard my bike, buy a fresh coconut with a straw pushed in to slurp the juice, change euros to pesos for small children at a fare rate of 15 to 1 and also go to cenote samula which also raised its entrance fee to $52 pesos. I was irked, but there was nothing I could do. I wasn't going to ride seven kilometers back on the bike with bent peddals and half inflated tires. I was renting it for ten pesos an hour. The equivalent to about .85 cents. I guess I got my moneys worth.

I went to Isla Mujeres for four nights and Cancun for one.

I'm now in the sleepy Isla Holbox. The weather isn't great, but I still get a great feeling from this place. I have a dorm style six bed sand floor cabana for a $100 pesos a night. I wrote a haiku about a pelican. 5-7-5 write?

"The Pelican"
Constantly alert
Unsuccessful, yet alive...
...Bird fishing - SUCCESS!

4 weeks in...

"Ten cheen ten, kin bin in xiimbal yook'ol kab..." - Jose Eduvigues Ucan No

("Me, only me, I'm going walking in the world...")



It has been an interesting couple weeks. Kicked it with loads of new friends in San Cristobal de Las Casas, witnessed a chicken having its neck snapped and a woman spraying white gas from her mouth over lit candles in the most interesting church I've even been too. I stayed in a jungle cabana, listened to the wail of howler monkeys and walked around one of America's greatest ancient ruins with a beautiful half Portuguese, half English girl. For the last two days I came back to reality with a quiet solo visit to the once pirate ravaged city of Campeche.

San Cristobal de Las Casas in the state of Chiapas lays at an elevation of about 6,000 feet. Once again, another beautiful city in Mexico, but at night it got quite cold. Two blankets, my fleece hat, jacket, and pants did the trick every night. There was a fire pit lit up every evening in the hostel. Great for the cold and even better because like a magnet it brought everyone in the hostel together. I met a lot of great people in San Cristobal.

A few kilometers from San Cristobal de Las Casas sits the small indigenous village of San Juan Chamula. A church stands in the center of town - looking like any ordinary church from the outside. Inside, it's like being transported to another world.

I sometimes wish I had a belief in something so strong - these people have no doubt that what they're doing is benefiting them in some way - I believe it is too. All I believe in is that I have no idea what I believe in.

There was a man in a white tunic chanting on his knees with a live chicken, its feet tied, a desperate SQWWUAAAKKK and the next is broke. The man continued to chant and press his forehead to the floor in front of about thirty skinny lit candles stuck to the floor with melted candle wax.

Melted wax litters the floor everywhere. The candles of past prayers still flicker, stuck to the floor, some flames lay in puddles of melted wax.

Tables surround the inner walls of the church completely covered in lit candles in glass candle holders. Fifty or so Saints in glass cases, each with a mirror around its neck are displayed above the tables.

The room is warm from the heat of the candles, filled with the smell of pine, whose needles litter the floor, pushed aside where people have candles lit.

Spanish is not being spoken. It is the ancient indigenous tongues of the Tzolziles and Tzeltales.

One woman put lighter fluid in her mouth and sprayed it over the candles, flaming them up and causing them to rapidly melt down. She waved eggs in a bag over the burning candles.

Small children came up to me asking for pesos. "Cinco pesos por un lapiz para la escuala??" (5 pesos for a pencil for school). "Cinco pesos por favor". The kids are so damn cute, you have to be some kind of cold hearted son of a to not feel bad that this is how these kids are spending their youth. They've been taught to beg. How can I live so good and others so bad? How can I be so privileged and others so not? Why do I deserve this and they don't? Will there ever be a time when the world won't find people sleeping on the streets and starving, cruelty beyond belief by people on people, and children begging for change? Can this change?

The children speak in a soft, slow, whine. Obviously learned to be the best method. "Ohhhh sennioorrr, porrr favorrrr..." I asked their names and how old they were. Marta - 9 and Luis - 9 and heavy heartily gave them some pesos. I doubt it's going to be spent on a pencil for school.

I stayed five nights in San Cristobal, equal to my longest stay anywhere thus far and headed to the jungles of Palanque.

The ruins of Palanque were once home to nearly 8,000 Mayans and houses the tomb of Pakal, one of America's most famous tombs and Mayan leaders. I first heard of Pakal from the show "Ancient Aliens" on The History Channel. Pakal's tomb cover shows the ancient ruler in what some interpret as a space craft. He has a nose tube in and seems to be controlling hand and feet pedals. Surrounding this picture are the symbols of many heavenly bodies, including the Sun, Moon, Venus, and Mars. The show does a fantastic job convincing you this is sure proof Pakal is in a space craft or was at least visited by aliens. A book I read about the Mayans completely discredits the idea of aliens though. Apparently everything to do with the tomb is ordinary in Mayan symbology. I didn't get very far trying to explain it my hostel mates. I was instantly laughed at - "Only in America!!!" Oh well....

I walked around the ruins, museum and later in the day to some fantastic jungle draped waterfalls with Sarah from Spain. We were both strolling the ruins solo and company is always nice. It didn't hurt that she is a gorgeous fitness instructor, who speaks five languages and is only a couple weeks younger than I. As further proof to her stunning beauty she told me she dated a professional soccer player in Spain for four years. Somewhat equivalent to a woman dating Derek Jeter or Tom Brady in the United States. A kiss on the cheek and "adios!" at the bus station later that evening. ¡AHH mi corazon!

I arrived in the city of Campeche at four in the morning with no hostel reservation and very sleep deprived. I sat in the bus station trying to figure out what to do. I was about three kilometers from the city center. I wanted to get in a bed fast, but I didn't want to pay for lasts night stay. In most places, this would mean waiting until about 11 in the morning. I wasn't interested in that either. I thought about sleeping a couple hours in the bus station, but quickly axed that terrible idea. Then I thought about getting a taxi to town and forgetting about the costs. I hate the cost of solo taxi rides though. I spotted an older lady walking the dark streets though and decided it safe and hit the bricks toward the city center. After about thirty minutes I came upon the first hostel. Knocked on the locked doors. Booked. Second hostel....success. Now the task of convincing him not to charge me for the previous evening even though it was still 5 in the morning. He spoke no English, but even with my terrible Spanish I was able to convince him. A smile and attempt at the language can go a long way.

All the tourists I met in Campeche were French and spoke only French. So I enjoyed some solo time. Rented a bike for ten pesos an hour and soaked up the 90 degree heat. The Gulf of Mexico in Campeche has no beaches, but is lined with a nice path for bikers and joggers who all flock out in late afternoon and watch the sun dip into the Gulf to give some relief to the boiling city and to relieve the darkness to some land on the other side of the world.

Life is precious my friends...count your blessings...

"Life is very short and there is no time for fussing and fighting my friends..." (We Can Work it Out - Beatles)

One month in - Daily expenses average $390 pesos = $32.40 a day (not including additional cost of bank fees)

Smiling

Oaxaca City is muy bueno. It just feels good. It's nestled in the highlands and this time of year it is beautiful in the day and just right with pants and long sleeve at night. Like most of the cities I've been too in Mexico the streets are cobbled and busy with vender's. The zocalo of Ciudad de Oaxaca is filled with shoe shiners, musicians, balloon hawkers and surrounded by cafes. I cannot find the exact reason why, but I like it here. My favorite city thus far! Although there has been not a place I have not liked.



Three weeks into this long journey and I'm thinking about all the negativity and "Be careful's" I heard prior to leaving. As my Uncle Ray told me, "It's only the people that have never been here that don't like Mexico." What do Americans ever here about Mexico? Do we even know who the president is? Should we? Can we name for 4 of the 31 states? After all it is one of our two boarder neighbors, but hell, I couldn't answer those questions. All we here about Mexico in our papers and news is murders by the drug cartels. It makes sense to think Mexico is unsafe when all you read about are people being decapitated. Fortunately for the 9 out of 10 of you who told me how dangerous Mexico was, you were wrong. I held my bag tighter in Rome and Dublin then any place here. The cities are gorgeous and I've never even heard of them! Puebla? Oaxaca City? Who has visited these places? Or better yet, who even cares to visit these places? Why do most of us always want to venture over the Atlantic, when there is a wealth of cheap beautiful places at our fingertips! I can buy a bag of fruits and vegetables for the equivalent of the price of one mediocre avocado back home. And oh yah, there the best damn fruits and vegetables I've ever eaten. Unfortunately to the average American, Mexico is just like our poor, dirty cousin who we don't really want to be around. I meet English, Australians, Canadians, Germans, Austrians, Italians, and Dutch, but where are the Americans?

I'm taking a 12 hour bus ride for $30 US, eating the best food I've ever eaten for $5 US a meal or buying a bag of fresh fruits and vegetables for $2 US. I'm sleeping in cozy cities in rooms with clean bedding and hot showers for $12 US a night or less. I'm in my t-shirt by day and cool and comfortable in the evening.

I know I probably will not be the persuader of you to come see for yourself, but don't say I didn't tell you. It's embedded in our brains that this country is a violent heap of trash. I'm finding out it is quite the opposite. The charm of these cities, the people, the food, the weather, the cost to get around! It's fantastic.

For further proof; I give you Mazunte on the Pacific coast in the state of Oaxaxa (there's one state, just 3 more!) It's difficult to describe a place like Mazunte. I've been to many many beaches in the United States and there is nothing to compare it to there. I'll describe it one thing at a time and stick strictly to the facts.

• This time of year it's sunny with no clouds, deep blue sky, 80's by day and 65ish by night. It never changes.
• The water is deep blue and around 80 degrees F.
• The main beach is nestled in a harbour of sorts making the waves perfect for body surfing or just taking a nice swim without ever having to worry about a rip tide sucking you out to sea.
• If you want to avoid the crowds of about 20 on the beach there are a few hidden gems with nobody to be found by taking a nice hike over the hills.
• For the sunset you can climb a short .5 mile trail to the southern most point of Oaxaxa and watch the sun dip into the ocean and stars pop over head.
• At the far end of the beach are natural rock cliffs and pillars of rock stands far off into the ocean.
• No one has ever been eaten by a shark here. EVER.
• This time of year the beaches are quiet with the perfect amount of chill hipsters and tiny bikinis on beautiful woman. If you're lucky (and I usually am) the casual European will forget she is supposed to keep her top on.
• You want a beer? Buy some with change in town and drink it in the sand. Too lazy to walk 100 meters to town? $1.75 at one of the 3 beach restaurants in the sand.
• Hungry? Just wait for a hardworking Mexican to come by with fresh sandwiches, tacos, nuts, pastries, or flavored ice.
• How about fruit? The best damn fruit I ever had. I never really had an orange , banana, melon or mango before coming to Mazunte.

I slept in a cabana right on the beach for the equivalent of $8 US. Went on a 3 hour boat ride for about $15 US and swam with sea turtles, saw colorful fish, and sped along with a giant whale 30 feet off the side of the boat. There are a few bars with chill relaxing music. The beers are only $1.75 here as well.

So, now for the negatives.

• There are no ATM machines in town (hardly a negative, but it forces you to drive 20 minutes to the nearest larger town if you want to stick around and you're low on pesos)
• There are a decent number of flea bitten, dirty dogs roaming freely. Where are they peeing and pooing?
• Chickens and roosters are all over the place too, not on the beach, but cock-a-doodle-doing at odd hours of the day and night. Only at sunrise? I think not.
• At night there are a few mosquitoes and sand fleas - easy enough, drink the "Sex on the Beach" and move the freakishness to your mosquito netted cabana!

And you know something. I actually grew quite fond of those damn roosters.

Finding My Cadance

I had success getting from airport to hostel in Mexico City without using a taxi so I thought I could do it again when I got to Puebla. Wrong. Reading the guide book and having written down directions from the hostel's web page I'm pretty sure I took the correct bus, but I didn't know where to get off. After riding twenty minutes longer than I should have needed too I decided to get off the bus. I figured I would find my way using the tiny map of the city center I had in my guide book. Wrong again. I should have tryed to ask the bus driver, but my confidence and courage to attempt Spanish when it is not completely necessary has waxed and waned. Foolish. I was outside the city center walking in circles trying to match street names with ones I had on my map. After about an hour and a half I decided to give up. I hailed a taxi - a relatively easy task. I was only about three miles away, but I never would have figured it out. Puebla has a beautiful city center which makes up for its crummy exterior. The Spanish church in the zocalo (city center) started being built in the 16th century. It's featured on Mexico's $500 Peso bill and has the highest towers of any church in Mexico (69 m). I'm not a big church guy, but when you combine the fountain, balloon vendors, tourists and locals alike, draped by a 16th century church in the background you have one beautiful picture.

Puebla is the city which made Cinco de Mayo famous. Every city I've been to so far has a street named Cinco de Mayo. On May 5th, 1862 the Mexicans were able to defend an attack the French made. An annual day of drunkenness was born. Fortunately for the sake of bars and drunkards , few Mexicans seem to remember or care that following this defeat the French were able to fortify their army and defeated the Mexicans to successfully hold Puebla for the following five years.

From Puebla I took a day trip to Cholula to visit what is thought to be one of the widest pyramids ever built. Piramide Tepanapa. The Great Pyramid of Cholula is also the second largest in the world. Unfortunately it has been neglected over hundreds of years and now really looks just like a large hill. Stone steps near the bottom and a network of tunnels inside the pyramid are the only evidence of the massive pyramid. Hernan Cortes, the infamous Conquistador of Spain, spent time in Cholula and built a Catholic church on the top of the pyramid. A climb to the top offers a fantastic view of the nearly 17,000 foot smoking volcano of Popocatepetl. I ate a quality sandwich, appetizer of spicy vegetables, and two cervesas for only 80 pesos (about $6.50 US) and found my bus back to Puebla.

Puebla was pleasant, safe, and relaxing. I spent most of my time walking the cobble stoned streets, people watching, and reading on a bench in the large zocalo surrounded by the arboretum type setting of trees and flowers. I went to this great Pre-Hispanic artifact museum while in Puebla. One of the coolest things it had was a time line showing the rise of "civilizations" on each continent. They were stacked on top of each other with pictures showing the major accomplishments. It amazes me most all North Americans have heard of the pyramids of Egypt and the great buildings of ancient Rome, but probably no one has heard of the great city of Teotihuacan. A city develed on a grid plan. A city that helped spread writing and an advanced calender system throughout Central America all the way down to moder El Salvador and Honduras. A city that grew to a population of 125,000. More than any other city in the world at the time and larger than any other pre-Hispanic city ever. A city thousands of miles closer to us than any in Europe, Africa, or Asia. What could we learn from these people that we will never know?

I moved on north to Veracruz which sits on the Gulf of Mexico. It's a commercial and oil hub. A city that for 4oo years had been the gateway to all of Mexico. Anybody coming in would go through Veracruz. Over the years this city has experienced numerous conflicts with pirates, French, Spanish, and the United States. In the yearly 1900's the US Army stormed the fortress of San Juan de Ulua right in the harbour. The General yelled to his troops deploying ashore. "GREEN - - GO!!, GREEN - - GO!!" Mexicans overheard and the term Gringo was born.

I only had one sunny day in Veracruz and it's amazing how the sun can make you enjoy a city so much more. Its a great city for walking miles of boardwalk and long piers. I took a short boat ride to near by islands and was the only Gringo on the boat. No one spoke English. ¡No entiendo, pero no es un problema! (I don't understand, but it's no problem!)

Distrito Federal (Mexico City)

I read if you were to try to compare Mexico City to a city in the United States, your best bet would be to combine New York, Los Angeles, and Boston. Before flying into Mexico City on Wednesday, January 5th, I really did not know what to expect. A crime filled, smog ridden, metropolis of 21 million? Yah, maybe. In some aspects it is. My eyes felt a bit sore on some days, maybe the smog, but according to the Lonely Planet the city smog has gotten much better since the city has started to limit the amount of cars that can drive each day. Every day here has been blue skied and in the 70's. I've never felt in danger and have grown quite fond of this city. The road side tacos are cheap and delicious and the Metro is easy and $3 pesos (.25 cents U.S) can take you nearly anywhere you want to go. Mexico City has been thriving for nearly 1500 years and now has nearly 20% of the country's population and its people consume 2/3 of the countries energy. The historical center of the city is where the Aztecs believed the center of the universe was. Today it has a 500 year old cathedral and an incredible national palace. On Saturday the streets were literally filled like a stuffed burrito. All kinds of cheap crap was being sold on the curbs - "¡Diez Pesos!"
The night before I attempted a night out in Mexico City on my own. My $10 dollar a night , 10 bunk hostel room was empty, so I was on my own. The bar scene was crazy and it being only my 3rd day I didn't have the courage to enter a bar. My spanish is terrible and who goes to a bar by themselves? On top of that I probably wouldn't have even been able to talk to anyone. There are not as many people who speak English as I thought there would be. I still had a nice walk, but felt like a wuss cake when I walked back into the hostel at only 10:30. I cheered up a bit when I walked back into my dorm. It seemed when I left, two beautiful girls from England had moved in.  They are sweet girls - Aimee and Ciera. We went to the largest park in the city together and I acted a bit like their tour guide since I had already had three days to get to know the area. They are on a similar trip, but moving a bit faster so I'm sadly saying goodbye to them when we both leave the city.
Prior to meeting the English girls I went outside the city for a day to Teotihuacan - An ancient city built between 200 and 600 AD. It has the third largest pyramid in the world - Pyramid del Sol and I lung busted it to the top. The city at one point had as many as 125,000 people living in it. Exploring ruins will be a main part of my journey.
On my last night in the city I went to my first Corrida de Toros. A bull fight. It was certainly like nothing I had ever experienced. Three matadors kill two bulls each. It's not simply one matador in the ring, but several of his toreros help to tire the bull out at first with the waves of their cape. Then the picadores come into the ring. These are men on large horses all padded up to prevent goring by the bull. These guys have large spears and they use them to weaken the bull even more. Then the matadors toreros take turns stabbing pairs of elongated darts into the shoulder of the bull. With their hands held high they must wait until the bull has nearly gored them to correctly insert the banderillas. After all this, when the bull is at his weakest is when the matador is finally alone with the bull and performs artistic passes with his red muleta. One kill went terribly wrong. The matador failed to perform a clean kill and the bull just wouldn't fall. I believe in honor of the bull's strength the crowd yelled "¡¡Toro!! ¡¡Toro!!" and boo'd the matador as finally the bull was ended with a small dagger behind the neck to sever the spinal cord. As gruesome and cruel as most people think bull fighting is, I believe when the time comes, aficionados prefer a quick death for the bull. Prior to this poor display a matador performed a perfect kill. After several fine passes and ¡Ole's! from the stands he slid his sword deep into the bulls neck on his first try. The bull jabbed his head one last desperate time and fell dead instantly. His performance was so great he was allowed to walk around the ring as each section of the crowd cheered and several people threw their hats into the ring in appreciation.
Just as I begin to really get to know this city it is time to move on. I'm off to Puebla, two hours east, and will have to find my way about in a new city once again. That is the way of it though. For the next few months this is my life and I love it.

P.S. - please excuse any spelling errors - no spell check in English here!

P.P.S. - I will work to get pictures up, but the computers are so slow it is difficult and the one I'm at now charges by the hour so I don't want to take the time to upload them.