What follows is a very, very long post that I am putting on my blog simply to make it more easily accessible. Most readers are apt to find this travelogue to be of little interest, I suspect. If that's the case, don't read it.
Ajijic 2005 December 26, 2005We arrived in Guadalajara at around 4:00 pm. After finding our luggage and making our way through customs (neither were at all daunting), we looked inside the terminal for the taxi stand, but decided after walking about half-way through the airport that the taxi stand must be outside, so we went outside to look. Almost immediately, a man asked if we needed a taxi and I said yes, but I was suspicious that he might be a scammer, so I was hesitant to get into the taxi. But after we exchanged a few words and I got some assurances, we did get in and the driver took us just a short distance down in front of the other end of the terminal, where he said I should go inside to buy a ticket. He led me inside, to the taxi ticket area; I bought a ticket for 250 pesos to go to Ajijic and away we went. Our driver did not speak much English, like I speak very little Spanish, but I was able to practice just a bit and was able to learn that he lives in Tlaquepaque on the outskirts of Guadalajara, where he has lived his entire life. He asked
¿Esto es su primero viaje a Ajijic? It took me awhile to figure it out, but I finally gathered that he was asking whether this was our first trip to the area.
My brother and sister were waiting for us when we arrived; they were surprised it took only about an hour for us to get to Ajijic, versus the two hours it took my sister to get there from the Guadalajara airport a few days earlier. My brother had taken the bus from Houston to Guadalajara, a 25 hour ride through Laredo, Nuevo Laredo, Monterey, San Luis Potosi, and other towns and cities. Once he got to the bus station in downtown Guadalajara, he took a taxi to Ajijic; because it was so late in the evening, he opted not to awaken the caretakers at my oldest brother's house (who was out of town) but, instead, to stay overnight in a hotel in Ajijic.
After visiting for a while with my brother and sister, they drove us in my resident brother's VW Cabrio to the center of Ajijic, where we had dinner at
La Rusa restaurant at
La Posada Nueva, a nice hotel.
My wife had marinated fajita beef and I had enchiladas suisas for dinner. We also had drinks, an appropriate way to kick off a vacation designed around indulgence and relaxation.
December 27, 2005My oldest brother, who with his wife lives in and owns the Ajijic house in which we were staying, had been away in Oregon visiting his wife's children and grandchildren. They arrived back in Guadalajara early on the morning of the 27th and made good time getting back to Ajijic, but their luggage did not…due to tight connections, their five checked bags were no where to be found. They were not overly concerned about it, though, and they expected their bags would come later that day or the next.
My oldest brother offered to make breakfast for everyone, to which we all readily agreed. He made scrambled eggs with chorizo campesino and we enjoyed a home-cooked morning meal. A bit later, everyone except my oldest brother's wife went out for a drive; she had caught a very nasty cold while they were away on holiday and she needed to try to nurse herself back to health.
First, we piled into the station wagon and my oldest brother backed it up the hill in front of his house so we could get a better view of the village and Lake Chapala. Near the top of the hill, though, we stopped in front of a house which was under construction and watched briefly while workmen put in a brick roof/ceiling, using a molded form to hold the bricks up in a gentle curve while the worker buttered the bricks with mortar and smoothed mortar between each brick. My oldest brother commented that it would be wonderful to be able to have these guys go back home with us to recreate their artisanship for us. After our quick glance at their work, we drove up the winding roads to some houses near the top of the mountainside. There, we encountered what appeared to be an abandoned house and stopped the car and took a look around. We noticed some brightly-colored gourds hanging from trees in the area, as well as some trees that seemed to be 'blossoming' in large tufts of cotton. A closer inspection revealed that the 'cotton' was actually the inside of gourds that had ripened and opened. Across an alley from the abandoned house was another house that looked well-maintained. A man who later identified himself as Bill Hamilton was behind the fence and wall, keeping an eye on us. Eventually he asked if we were interested in the abandoned house and told us the story of the place. Bill was a man in his seventies; he wore a black leather captain's cap and sported a nicely-trimmed gray beard. He said the guy who purported to the abandoned house claimed it had been a gift to him from the governor of Jalisco. The guy had asked Bill Hamilton if he wanted to buy the place; Bill was not interested, but said he might have friends with an interest and asked how much he wanted for the place. The 'owner' replied that Bill should have his friends contact the owner and he would tell them the asking price. Bill said that sounded too odd, so he decided not to pass the word around about the house's availability. Bill said the owner had put up a gate in the road leading to 'his property' but that he had been forced to take it down when the state government learned about it; they informed the 'owner' that the property belonged to the state, not to him, and that he had violated the law by erecting a gate across the roadway.
Bill did find out later, he said, that the title to the property was very sketchy; he advised us to be very careful about Mexican real estate titles, to which my oldest brother replied that he was well-aware of the vagaries of Mexican titles.
Following our visit with Bill Hamilton, we drove into downtown Ajijic and parked near the square. As we were walking away from the station wagon toward the square, a van stopped and a man who knows my oldest brother called out to him, offering greetings and welcoming him back from his trip to Oregon. I didn't catch the man's name; I only recall that he was from Vermont or New Hampshire; someplace in the northeastern U.S.
Immediately upon arriving at the plaza, brother number two allowed that he needed to use the bathroom, so we went into a bar and ordered a few beers so he could use the facilities as a legitimate paying customer. My brothers and my sister and I sat a talked a bit, but my wife decided she had not come to Ajijic to sit in a bar on her first morning in town, so she walked outside to wander around the plaza on her own. On the plaza was the Centro Cultural de Ajijic and in front of it was a mobile sculpture, a bird (crane, I think) whose legs were stationary but whose long neck and tail could be moved. I took a picture of my wife in front of it, and she got a picture of me. We wandered around the plaza a bit and viewed the church on the north side of the plaza, poked our noses in a few shops nearby, then walked back to the car.
We drove down the carretara, heading west back toward the house, but decided we really needed to stop to get lunch, so we went into
Donas, an open air place on the south side of the carretara. I ordered chicken mole and my wife ordered enchiladas de pollo. It was an interesting place…no full walls, just chest-high walls around parts of the place and a cement floor, all covered by a very high roof.
My sister and I decided we needed to walk off some of the food we'd been eating, so while my brothers and my wife drove back home, we walked along the carretera back toward the neighborhood where my oldest brother and his wife live.
After a relaxing afternoon, we all piled into the car that evening to drive into Ajijic again to have dinner at
Pedro's Gourmet, a very nice place, but with a comfortable, casual feel, on a very narrow street. There, we saw several acquaintances of my oldest brother and his wife, including the owners of a bed and breakfast and Pete, the owner of the restaurant. Pete had recently lost his wife and had been away for several weeks; we learned later that December 27 was the first night the restaurant had been opened for several weeks. Most of the group ordered Chilean sea bass with curried mango sauce (a special of the day), but I opted for a Thai dish with a cellophane noodle base. The service was very friendly, but it was unbelievably slow. Pete came around to apologize, then later the waitress came by and offered us more drinks on the house, courtesy of Pete. Still later, after we had been served our meals, the waitress came by to say that Pete was going to comp the meal because it was so late getting to us. We objected, but Pete felt he had to do it. We did leave a very nice tip, though. We learned that they had simply gotten 'rusty' about what needed to happen, when, and that they had not expected quite so large a crowd for dinner that night.
December 28, 2005Wednesday is market day in Ajijic. Vendors of all sorts, selling baskets and jewelry and fruits and vegetables and meat and fish and pottery…you name it…take stands all along both sides of a long two or three block long street, as well as some side streets. We went wandering through the market, soaking up the sounds and sights and allowing our senses to be assaulted from all angles. It was a spectacular experience. After visiting the market, we did various errands, including trip to the liquor store to buy booze and a visit to the beer distributorship to return empty bottles and to buy a couple of cases of beer. While at the liquor store, I noticed a hot sauce that I had long wanted to buy, de la Viuda, so I bought a couple of bottles. Then, at the beer distributorship, I saw some interesting bags of chips and bought them…we ate them in the car on the way back home.
After unloading the car, we went off in search of a place for lunch and ended up at
Parilla Argentina, an obviously Argentinian place. I wanted jalapenos to go with my Argentinian sausage, to which the waitress agreed, but when I inquired later about where my jalapenos were, she said they did not have any. After lunch, my U.S. based brother and sister went out to get pedicures and manicures, thanks to appointments my oldest brother's wife had made for them. My wife and I stayed back at the house, chatting and relaxing. Some erstwhile Canadian neighbors, Rick and Linda, came by late in the day to visit and we all sat outside under the covered porch and chatted, had a beer, and relaxed. My oldest brother began preparing to grill skirt steak sometime before the neighbors' visit. When they left, he grilled the steak and we had a wonderful dinner, after which we watched a very odd movie,
Mikey & Nicky, starring Peter Falk and John Cassavetes and directed by Elaine May.
December 29, 2005After our early morning coffee, and my brother's run to buy food for the two dogs, we all climbed into a van hired by my sister-in-law to take us to Tlaquepaque, an artisan village on the outskirts of Guadalajara. The van driver, Sergio, had been educated in tourism management and had spent time in California learning to speak very good English.
We wandered through the shops in Tlaquepaque, seeing fine jewelry, furniture, knick-knacks, and all manner of fine artistic things. My sister-in-law picked up some jewelry that she had taken in early to be replated in gold. It was jewelry designed by a very well-known and highly regarded Mexican artist, Sergio Bustamante. The shop/gallery displaying his work was wonderful.
While in Tlaquepaque, we saw a street vendor whose cart was full of enormous coconuts. He used a machete to chops off the ends of the coconuts, then he would drain the coconut milk into plastic bags, into which he inserted a straw. People bought the bags full of coconut milk from him. Then, he would use a crude, but effective, tool to scrape the meat from inside the hard shell of the coconut, slicing the meat into wedges. We watched people buy the coconut slices from him; they put a mash of ground chiles on the coconut wedges, squeeze fresh lime juice from a lime wedge he'd give them on top, and then eat them. I finally got up my courage to try my language skills and asked the vendor, ¿Cuanto? He said the cost was cinco pesos, so I bought a slice of coconut, put chile on it, then drizzled lime juice on it. It was interesting, if not the most exciting thing I've ever had. What was most interesting to me was the fact that it was a genuine product from a genuine street vendor.
For lunch that day, we stopped at
El Patio, a nice restaurant on the main street in the Tlaquepaque commercial area. I ordered tortas ahogadas, which I'd read about in a Mexico guide. Tortas ahogadas were described in the guide as sandwiches made of a nice hard white bread, filled with pork, then drenched in a fiery hot red sauce. My meaql was tasty, but not fiery hot. I was disappointed that I might have been given a 'gringo' version so as not to damage my tastebuds. We sat around, having drinks, eating good food, and enjoying ourselves for quite some time. Despite the fact that my tortas ahogadas were not spicy enough, I enjoyed the place thoroughly.
After lunch, we continued to wander through Tlaquepaque, visiting shops, looking at furniture, and watching people. My two brothers and I stopped in at a tequila specialty store (
Tequila Tecolote; we later learned that tecolote is the word, probably from the Nahuatl language, for a specific type of owl) and each bought a bottle of very good tequila (
4 Copas); my oldest brother bought a bottle of añejo, I bought a bottle of reposado, and my other brother bought a bottle of blanco. The prices were very reasonable for such good tequila.
We met Sergio, our driver and guide, at 2:30 and headed back to Ajijic. When we arrived back at the house, I arranged to have him pick my wife and me up on January 1 at 2:00 pm to take us to the Guadalajara airport. It was unfortunate that we'd scheduled the flight on Sunday afternoon at 2:00 pm, for that was precisely the time that my brother and his wife had set for their New Year's day party to begin.
Once back in the house, most of the gang decided to take a nap; that is anathema to me, because I feel that I'm missing out on valuable time being conscious of good things around me. So, while they were sleeping, I began reading a book that I found on the table on the sun porch on the middle level of the house. The book,
Snow, was written by Orhan Pamuk who, I subsequently learned, was imprisoned in Turkey for his attacks on anti-democratic behaviors on the part of the government. I only read chapter 1, but I was sufficiently hooked by the end of the chapter that I decided I need to buy it. Just before I read that chapter, I had picked up what appeared to be a printout of an Internet version of an article from the
New York Times entitled,
Iranian Lessons, written by Michael Ignatieff. It was a fascinating article. During my stint reading these odds & ends, a title for an article or book or short story popped into my head:
Vigilant Watch of a Broken Man. I don't know the story behind it, yet, but I will try to remember to use it somehow…it deserves use, since it popped up so utterly unexpectedly.
We decided to go to
Tony's in San Antonio Tlayacapán for dinner that night. Tony's is a Mexican restaurant that was started by a butcher (Tony) who used to live in Chicago but who longed to come back home to Mexico. He started a butcher shop, then built a restaurant next door, then apparently succumbed to his desire to be an entertainer by singing to his guests along with two other guys, a percussionist and another singer. During the song-fest, one of my brothers was mouthing the words to a song and making dramatic gestures as if he were singing. That gave one of the singers on stage an opening to approach him about singing into the microphone, which embarrassed my brother no end…he was not of a mind to do any such thing. Later, though, he was coached into doing a bit of karaoke, but only a very tiny bit.
Tony's tends to be a music venue focusing on 60s and 70s versions of folk and rock hits.
As an appetizer, the restaurant delivers chips and samples of a few hot sauces and pickled carrots and jalapeños. Many among us figured the carrots should have been jalapeños, but ultimately decided Tony must pride himself on the pickled carrots…and they were not at all bad.
My wife ordered coconut shrimp. My sister ordered Azteca soup. Most of the rest of us had tacos of various stripes. An elderly coupled, he probably in his eighties and she, despite her perfect make-up and jet-black hair, in her late seventies, sat at the very front of the restaurant, directly in front of the band. They were grooving on the music. The man, a toothless geezer, really rapped to the beat of the music, taking an especial liking to Tony's version of
Guantanamera, during which he punctuated some verses with "Si Señor!"
December 30, 2005We started the day with chorizo con juevos, again using the compesino style chorizo. My oldest brother once again did the honors of making the meal. After a hearty breakfast, the whole group of us (except my sister-in-law, who had plenty of things to do for her upcoming party, plus needing to rest to try to recover from her awful cold) took off for Mazamitla. I had wanted to drive in Mexico, so I volunteered to do so. We all piled into the 1994 Mercedes Benz wagon and headed west toward Jocotopec, then curved south around the tip of Lake Chapala, then back east toward a cutoff road that would take us into the mountains and, ultimately, Mazamitla.
Mazamitla is a small town located at least a couple of thousand feet higher than Ajijic. The flora is decidedly different, with many long-leafed pine trees creating an almost Alpine look to the area…which was adopted in a big way by the locals and/or settlers to the area. Mazamitla proclaims itself as an Alpine village and many structures in the town are reminiscent of the looks of the Swiss Alps. After finding a place to park, we took off on foot to visit the town center, town square, and the blocks surrounding the middle part of the village. Like many Mexican villages, a covered marketplace was to be found near the town center. Everything from beef livers and kidneys to jewelry and carved toys could be found there.
We wandered all around, looking at shops and watching the marketplaces and finally decided to look for a place for lunch. We passed by several little places, including one that looked particularly inviting…a restaurant open to the front, but covered with a roof…it appeared to have been built into a building, but the front portion seemed to have been removed, leaving only a wide expanse of space open to the street. By the time we saw it, though, my sister had gone on ahead and was looking at other places; she apparently did not hear us say we found a place that looked interesting. We continued back toward the main plaza and there we headed toward one of the big old hotels. We walked into the
Posada Alpina and decided it looked as good as anyplace else, so we sat down to order lunch. My wife and I both ordered flautas de pollo. My sister ordered champiñones al ajillo, a very garlicky mushroom dish that was wonderful. My oldest brother ordered a queso fundido with chorizo and my other brother ordered something else…I don't recall what. It was all good. As an appetizer, refried beans drizzled with dry cheese was served, along with a chile de arbol salsa that was excellent.
The trip back home was another opportunity for me to drive and experience both highway and village traffic. It was not as stressful as it could have been, I'm sure. I think I could, relatively easily, get used to driving in Mexico, something I thought I wouldn't be able to do. We passed through several small towns. We all wondered which town we were in as we drove through the largest town east and south of Jocotopec, but could not figure it out. Later, in a conversation with the guide and driver, Sergio, as he drove us back to the Guadalajara airport, I determined it was probably San Luis Soyatlán (but a look at maps suggested it could be San Pedro Tesistan or San Cristobal Zapotitlan…but I think Sergio's probably right).
That night, we opted to go to dinner at
Las Olas (the waves), a restaurant that sits right on Lake Chapala just a few miles west of my brother's house. We took a table on the lake side of the open-air restaurant We had a view of the lake and saw a number of egrets and herons and other water birds. The restaurant had a parrot in a cage near the entryway and a few of us walked over to take a look. The placed also had a mariachi band, composed of very young and not very talented musicians. Fortunately, they did not play long, nor did they offer to serenade us. We ordered huachinango (red snapper) dorado prepared, we believed, as a whole fish baked to a golden brown. It turned out not to be cooked the way we expected, but it was tasty, nonetheless. My wife ordered a margarita, as did several others. My oldest brother and I ordered Modelo Negro beer, but were served with Pacifico Claro, instead.
After dinner, we went to use the cash machine at the Farmacia, then darted next door to get some more rum at the liquor store. Back at home, everyone but my brother from Falba watched the first disk of a two-DVD set of the HBO special entitled "e;
Empire Falls." Actually, my oldest brother started watching, too, but flaked out after half an hour.
December 31, 2005The last day of 2005 was another relaxing day. We cleaned up around the house and pool area in preparation for the next day's party. The local Bed & Breakfast empressarios had earlier purchased two sofas from my brother and his wife and they came by to pick them up, one sofa per trip. After the sofas were out of the way and the room was appropriately rearranged, my sister-in-law took my wife and my sister and I to town (Ajijic), where we wandered through shops while she ran errands. My oldest brother and my other brother also went to town at about the same time, but my oldest brother was after a haircut and my other brother was after some more experiences interacting with the 'natives.' At
Mi Mexico, my wife bought a pancho-style top, in purples and blues and greens, and a pair of slacks to match it, thanks to the encouragement my sister gave to her about how nice they looked on her. Then, we crossed the street to
Opus, a place owned by friends of my brother and his wife. At about that time, my oldest brother showed up and joined us on a foray through
Opus, ultimately buying a nice long-sleeve casual Mexican shirt. I bought a shirt there, as well, and my wife found a beautiful necklace that was a perfect compliment to the pancho-style top she had purchased earlier. Despite my wife's protestations that the necklace was too expensive, I convinced her to buy it. A trip to another little store close by resulted in my purchase of an Ajijic momento, a t-shirt with appropriate words and graphics.
We then met as a group at
La Posada Tradicional on the lakefront and had a few drinks at an al fresco table, but they were not prepared to serve lunch, since they were busy with preparations for the New Year's eve festivities. So we went to
Bambino Burgers for a late lunch. I had a cheeseburger and my wife had an Atkins burger (sans bun); various other meals were eaten, but I failed to make notes and my memory is not what it once was. Lunch took quite some time to get to us, so we had more drinks and just chilled…something that's good for me to do. Once we had all finished our lunches, we went across the street to a silver shop, which appeared to be closed; my brother had visited briefly before lunch and had been told it would reopen shortly, but no one was there when we left. Just as we were about to walk away, a woman from
Bambino Burgers ran out, called to us, and unlocked the store; the little shop also was owned by the restaurant owners, it appeared. It was small and it took almost no time to realize no one really wanted any of their silver. But, I noticed a whole line of little carved Buddhas on top of one cabinet and I selected one, at my sister's insistence, to buy. She spent 25 pesos (about $2.50) to buy it for me; I am sure the lady who opened the shop especially for us was happy at that purchase. Anyway, I now have a nice Buddha with the word 'suerte' (luck) carved into the bottom of the base.
Then, everyone but my sister-in-law went to take a look at
Posada las Calandrias, a hotel/motel for sale near the center of town, on the carretera. The place has 21 rooms (from studios to multiple bedroom units), most of which are rented regularly, many by the same people for long periods. It's definitely a fixer-upper, but it could be stunningly beautiful with some work. And they are only asking $650K, but it was suggested by someone that they might take $500K.
With the exception of my Falba-based brother, the rest of us headed for the house; he stayed back, determined to visit with as many people in town as he could.
Back at home, we relaxed some more. My sister and I went into town while others were napping, trying to find some ice cream. We also wanted to find some of the very long sparklers we had seen for sale during the Wednesday market; the sparklers would be useful to celebrate the New Year later that night. Alas, we did not find the sparklers. We did find very expensive ice cream and not-so-expensive tequila for me…I wanted a bit that night, but did not want to open my upscale bottle. When we got back and everyone was home, my sister-in-law started making the camerones de ajo (or something like that…shrimp with garlic). Wonderful garlic flavor…lots of garlic! The finished dinner, complete with wine, warranted photos, so I took a few…hope they turned out well. Once we had finished the wonderful dinner, we trekked upstairs to watch the second and final DVD of
Empire Falls>. We lost a couple of people to other interests, I think. After the movie, and just at midnight, the explosions started as fireworks were cranked out by those intent on celebrating. We celebrated ourselves with drinks, toasts, kisses, etc. and then went to bed.
January 1, 2006Breakfast on the first day of 2006 was a real treat and an opportunity to try something new for several of us.
When I awoke just about 8 am, I could hear my brother in the kitchen, grinding coffee. I heard him opening some packets of food, so I got up to explore.
He had just made the first batch of tocina de pava (turkey bacon). He continued to create a superior breakfast for us, as he then treated us to eggs with cuitlacoche. Cuitlacoche is a corn fungus that looks similar to and tastes a bit like mushrooms. The cuitlacoche is mixed with the eggs and cooked until the consistency of firm but soft scrambled eggs. It has a wonderful flavor and it complemented quite well with
Lake Chapala Sauce and
De la Viuda sauce. Once it was all cooked up, there was a large bowl of steaming huevos revueltos con cuitlacoche & tocino de pava. It was magnificent!
After breakfast, and a bit of a break to let the food settle, my brother opened a couple of cans of chicaros negros (black-eyed peas) so the superstitious among us would be happy and confident we would have good luck all during the year in 2006. He warmed up the can and added strips of ham, diced onion, diced jalapeños, and a bit of bottled barbeque sauce. It was excellent! Each of us had at least a taste, though I had more and wanted more, still.
My two brothers went out to get the hors d'oeuvres for the party, then went out again to get ice. My wife and I sampled some of the hors d'oeuvres, including prociutto ham wrapped around slices of cantaloupe, sliced salmon with onions and capers on pastries, and a variety of other good stuff.
At 2:00 pm, Sergio (the driver and tourist guide) showed up in a two-door, four-seater car…along with three of his children. He had somehow gotten confused and he thought he was to pick up my Falba-based brother to take him to the Guadalajara bus station…so the small car with kids would work. It worked fine anyway…except for one thing. When we got to the airport, we scrambled to get our bags out of the car, then rushed inside to the airline ticket counter…only then to realize that I had left my leather portfolio, which included my cell phone inside, in the front seat of Sergio's car, on the floor. We decided to try to call Sergio…I had earlier gotten his business card…but we could not get the phones to work using our credit cards (we learned they were not designed for credit cards, despite the pictures of MasterCard and Visa on the phones in the instruction area). Then, we purchased a phone card, which also caused lots of trouble…finally, thanks to the help of an American missionary who works for a church and lives in Chapala (and is very, very fluent in Spanish), we got to use the phone…only to find that we could not get through to Sergio's cell phone. A partially-clipped message on his home phone answering machine was followed by the call being answered by his non-English-speaking wife…but I did confirm his cell phone number with her. Anyway, we finally decided to give up and call or email when we got back home to Dallas.
So, we started a search for lunch. We ate at
Wings in the airport, which looked like a better choice than
Burger King and other chains. I ordered a soup with chicharrones and tortilla strips and avocado chunks in a rich broth (sopa de tropazteca, I think) and my wife ordered sopa especial…not sure what was in it, other than shredded chicken, lots of cilantro, and fabulous flavor! I had two Modelos Negros, too…more relaxation.
When the time came to board the plane, we went to the boarding area, which led to a two-sided bus-like vehicle. The driver guided people to sit on one side or the other of the vehicle, depending on which airplane row the ticket holder was to be seated. Then, when the bus was full, he drove it out to the plane, raised the whole body of the vehicle using hydraulic lifts (I think) and we all proceeded into the plane. It was a nearly-full flight, but comfortable for us since I got seats for us on the left side of the plane, where there were only two seats…no danger of someone sitting next to us. The flight home was uneventful, though by the time we got to Dallas, I had decided it would be worth the extra expense to get a cab or limo, rather than riding SuperShuttle. I was right. I spent $60, including tip, for the ride. It would have cost $46 on SuperShuttle, plus we would probably have waited at least 30 minutes to catch it, then could have been the 3rd stop. It was worth it just to not have to deal with the inconvenience.
After we got home, we decided we still needed to have dinner, so we went to
Rockfish, a seafood place, where I had grilled shrimp and fried catfish and my wife had the daily special. By the time dinner was over, it was almost 9:30 pm (the restaurant closes at 9:00 pm) and we were ready to turn in for the night. We have one more day before we have to go back to work…and that day will be spent washing clothes, cleaning up around the house, and getting our minds ready to face the work-a-day world again. It will be hard, very hard, after a whirlwind of seven days in the Lake Chapala area of Mexico. We…at least I am…are ready to go back for a much, much longer stay.
Here we are, back at home, but feeling a bit blue because of it.
Telling the story is not the most important thing…it's having the story to tell.
About the time we decided to give up, we saw Colonel's Pancake House, precisely the sort of place we like to explore. My wife had cherry pancakes and some sausage patties. I had corned beef hash with two eggs, over medium, and an enormous order of biscuits and gravy, precisely what my cardiologist would have ordered for me had he been along for the ride. The food was OK...not bad, but nothing special. Our middle-aged-plus waitress, who wore short-shorts, was very pleasant and friendly...and she had two huge tatoos, one on each calf, plus a few others that were only partially visible. Interesting, to say the least.
