Pátzcuaro smells green. Or, at least, the rural areas do.
I drove up from San Miguel on Sunday. Before those of you with a Mercator-fixation correct me that I actually drove south, and, thus, “down,” let me point out I gained 1000 feet in altitude over San Miguel. In my book, that is up.
In the last few years, Mexico has invested in its infrastructure -- with roads being at the top of the list. As a result, most Mexican primary roads make American road engineers a bit envious.
What was once a five hour drive from San Miguel to Pátzcuaro can now easily be driven under three hours.
And it is not one of your Nebraska see-forever-to-the-horizon drives. Lakes. Mountains. Valleys. God must have been in a Pissarro mode when he designed this portion of Mexico.
It was almost as if I had driven from Arizona though Colorado and New Hampshire to central Oregon.
When I arrived on Sunday, Pátzcuaro’s large square (plaza grande) was filled with Mexican tourists. Middle class families enjoying a day in the sun. Including, watching the essence of Pátzcuaro’s cultural tourism -- La Danza de los Viejitos, the dance of the old men.
Having fulfilled my brief tourist duties, I sat down with Felipe for a quick conversation. He then settled me into my home base for the month. (More on that in later posts.)
As some of you know, Pátzcuaro was my first choice as a place to live when I was planning my retirement in Mexico. I almost bought a house here four years ago.
This trip will give me an opportunity to show you what might have been. And, perhaps, what might be.
Having fulfilled my brief tourist duties, I sat down with Felipe for a quick conversation. He then settled me into my home base for the month. (More on that in later posts.)
As some of you know, Pátzcuaro was my first choice as a place to live when I was planning my retirement in Mexico. I almost bought a house here four years ago.
This trip will give me an opportunity to show you what might have been. And, perhaps, what might be.
