This may have been posted twice or thrice. Getting used to computer, to posting, to blogs, to the internet itself as a septuagenarian is more difficult than one might imagine in ones forties. The whole digital world makes one identify with the savage in I guess it was 1984 or the heroes or antiheroes in Brave New World. Nevertheless … It must have been quite a shock for the P’uetpecha to have to face the Amazons and then the Spaniards. We were in Ihuitza today where in a broad ie acre field nestled in and looking down from the mountains the ceremonials were conducted on two great pyramids by which even the jaded eye cannot easily be unimpressed for this second largest empire in Mexico. Although they had the nasty habit of human sacrifice,of their enemies and an occasional virgin, these brave people fought off even the Aztecs and ruled from the modern State of Sonora down to Guadalahara and below. Known as Tarascans, literally I read Son in Laws, because Spaniards married so many, the P’uer pecha are the indiginous peoples of this area today.
At night the Mexican dogs, who as wandering burros, horses, steers pass by, sleep on the side of the road, raise their howls to the chorus of church bells that toll for almost anything it seems, of car horns occasionally and the local band I think playing down the way not infrequently during the earlier evening. We sleep well during these cold nights having eaten at the Tacquerias (often tents with a plastic table and chairs, a cooler, and a big oven of some sort, perhaps half a metal barrel split with a grill over it, that line the highways and cook up great tortillas, tacos or rond pieces of recently made bread, with Mola, a sauce of chocolate, almonds, peanut butter, fresh cropped onions and chile pepper and corn, all with variations depending where you are. Enough to fill a person with all needed nutrients for a long time.
All this gives one thought, as does the commitment to travel for any extended period of time and doing it to some deeper questions and the literary works of Durrell- bitter lemons and Alexandria Quarter and also of just deceased Colin Wilson, author of the Outsider. One’s place in the larger picture … the city, the slow land, of which all more later.