La Muerte de Bowie

I woke to the news of David Bowie’s death.  I had been listening to him since high school and rather enjoyed much of his work. I even got to see him play live about 10 years ago. His talent and charm will certainly be missed.

We four decided to go visit the cathedral and, time and energy permitting, see a bit of the historic district of Mazatlán. The resort staff called us a taxi and we were on our way. When we arrived, the driver pointed us in the direction of a few interesting things nearby and agreed to meet us back at one of the cathedral’s side entrances in an hour and a half. While it cost a bit extra for this service, it was great to have if Elena got tired and needed to return to the resort. It also meant we didn’t have to wander around on Mazatlán’s sometimes narrow and precarious sidewalks looking for a reputable method of transportation.

It had been fun speaking Spanish all over the place and I felt we were getting better information and better service because of it. Most of the staff at the resort spoke a little English, but not always well. I had witnessed more than one sigh of relief when someone realized they didn't have to struggle through a foreign language when talking to me. It was no different out and about and I took charge of getting information and negotiating transactions. Back in the States I had been feeling insecure about my speaking abilities. Interpreting for others was becoming more difficult because I just wasn't getting a lot of practice. Hell, I barely even spoke English to people now that I worked from home. In Mazatlán, however, several people had complemented my linguistic abilities. They were always pleasantly surprised at how fluent I was and would ask why I knew Spanish. Rather than explaining that it was a combination of years of study, living abroad, and a decade of working in translation, I found that it was much easier just to say, “My dad is Mexican.” Even if my dad only really taught me the words and phrases that came with the warning, “Don’t ever say that in front of your grandma!” it at least bought me a little cultural cred.

The cathedral was lovely, save for the somewhat graphic anti-abortion display at the main entrance. We strolled up and down the aisles, attracting curious stares from Mexican visitors who tended to sit and pray rather than gawk at different aspects of the nave. There were only a couple other foreign tourists inside and not many around town either. The ceiling was ornate and floral, lit by the afternoon sun shining in through the multicolored stained glass. This cast a glowing rainbow-colored light on the main altar.

Cathedral exterior overlooking Plaza República

Cathedral ceiling and pillars

 Rainbow lit altar

Virgin Mary

The cathedral was not very large so we weren't there for very long. We exited and shopped for religious trinkets, and then crossed the street into Plaza República, the central plaza of the historic district. It was modest in size and its footpaths were lined with busy shoeshines. Elderly people sat on benches and chatted with one another. One such bench held three men, two of which looked like brothers and, strangely, much like my grandfather who had the same thick white hair and bushy mustache. They all wore standard Mexican cowboy gear. I didn’t have the courage to ask them if I could take their picture, but I wish I had.

We walked a couple of blocks to a nearby indoor market. As soon as we entered, several saleswomen politely accosted us to show us their knickknacks, clothing, jewelry, etc. The market was busy but not overly crowded. Within a couple of minutes I heard mariachi music nearby and I could tell it was live. A man in a cowboy hat came around the corner, carrying a large hexagonal boombox that played background music while he sang Volver Volver with all his heart. His voice was strong and beautiful and I barely managed to dig several pesos out of my pocket and dump them in his donation cup before I burst into tears. I love mariachi so much that I just can’t keep my shit together.

Food and textiles side-by-side in the mercado

Soon thereafter a friendly and persistent saleswoman coaxed Charlie into her a kiosk by flashing a very nice cream-colored guayabera in his face. This gave me a chance to compose myself because I had to concentrate on wheeling and dealing for what became two guayaberas while fending off the other saleswomen who came at me with dress after sarape after poncho, desperately trying to sell me something. Tony and Elena were also seduced by some of the colorful wares these diligent women had to offer and left with a new tablecloth and an embroidered blouse. The mariachi must have noticed the effect he had on me, or perhaps in my haste I had been unusually generous, because he stayed close by and circled around the block of kiosks where we shopped.

After a little more perusing we ended up in the food section of the market. We realized we wouldn’t have time to eat in the neighborhood before our driver would be back to collect us, so Charlie decided to pick up some ingredients for lunch. We bought a couple pounds of shrimp from a fishmonger for only $5.50 USD and then visited a vegetable stand. The vendor complemented my Spanish and then I was immediately embarrassed because I needed to ask for celery and couldn’t remember what it was called. I pointed it out and named the nearest vegetable so that he would know what I was talking about. He smiled and offered, “Apio.” After we paid him I asked where we could get some really good corn tortillas. He told us to exit the market and walk a block to a nearby tortillería where they would be fresh and warm. Our time was running short so we told Tony and Elena to stay put and then booked it to the tortillería. It was nothing more than an open-air corner shop with a big tortilla-making machine, several gigantic balls of dough sitting in containers here and there, and a counter where the checkout girl weighed out each patron’s order on a scale, taking bunches of tortillas off the top of a steaming stack. After discussing whether a kilo of tortillas might be too much, we asked for a kilo anyway, paid her the customary $15 MXN (less than a dollar USD), and were on our way back to the market to collect the parents.

We walked the couple of blocks back to our agreed-upon pick up spot and our driver, who had seen us coming, approached on foot. He instructed us to wait there so that he could bring the car around. Several minutes passed, presumably because of all the traffic on the adjacent streets, and we must have looked lost or concerned because two North Americans who seemed in the know stopped to ask us whether we needed help. We declined and our driver arrived shortly thereafter. We returned to the resort and Charlie made us a late lunch of shrimp tacos in a tomato-based sauce, a fresh salsa of tomato, pepper, cucumber, and cilantro, and more of the beautiful avocados that we have been eating daily. Oh, and we managed to wolf down about half of the fresh tortillas we had just bought. If anything, a kilo was too little.

After lunch, Tony and Elena took a short nap and we cleaned up the kitchen. Then we all went down to the pool. We didn’t last long because the sun was already low in the sky and the palm trees were shading much of the sunbathing area. There was also a little breeze coming off of the ocean so it got chilly quite fast. We decided to take our relaxation back to the room.

Later we went down to the resort’s restaurant for dinner where the special was the salad/dessert buffet and three tacos with choice of meat. I had taco salad and carne asada tacos. I had predicted that I would get sick of Mexican food at some point, but that had yet to occur.

We went back to the room and introduced the parents to Qwirkle, a game similar to Dominoes and Set. I like to think of it as Dominoes for dummies since it doesn’t really require any counting and you work with large blocks stamped with bright rainbow-colored shapes. It’s an aesthetically pleasing game. Charlie whooped our asses almost every time.

After dinner Charlie and I went down to the pool for our nightly smoke/read session and a camera test of Smoking in the Park (coming soon!). The only lighting we had to work with were the bright floodlights that are kept on shining over the pool at night, so we had to make sure they were sufficient. After that, we continued our nightly routine of sitting in our couch fort, eating Takis, and rewatching Arrested Development.