Earlier today I told you when I return from my trips, I always have a group of photographs I really like, but they never managed to fit into one of my in situ essays.
That is true of this trip. I have a collection from Zacatecas, Real de Catorce, and San Luis Potosi that I will share with you over the next few days. Today it is Zacatecas.
The photograph at the top sums up a lot of Zacatecas's elements. The blue sky that sets off the stark hillsides leading to La Bufa -- and the gondola. You can see the gondola from almost everywhere in the centro area. It gives the town something of an amusement park feel.
But, what I like best in this view is the patchwork of rectangular colors in the buildings. The feel is a bit like Guanajuato, but not quite. Whatever it is, this shot kept attracting me to that part of town.
Several sights on this trip were touted as "considered to be the best." The facade of the Zacatecas cathedral is one, a couple of blocks from my gondola shot.
Churrigueresque is the Spanish equivalent of what the rest of Europe calls Rococo -- that architectural movement that could be summed up as "going broke with Baroque."
The style was already overly-decorative when it was imported across the Atlantic to Mexico. But the Mexicans really pushed the envelope.
The carvings on the facade of the cathedral are so intricate, it is often difficult to follow the theological symbolism. What Cervantes was to literature, this facade is to church architecture.
These police vehicles (after all, they are hardly "cars") were parked next to the cathedral.
I have seen them elsewhere in Latin America -- and in Europe. For some reason, they always make me chuckle. Probably because I am so accustomed to American cops in their fortress cars.
Of course, these guys have a different mission than calming the wild streets of Los Angeles. They are tourist police. And causing smiles is probably exactly what they are meant to do.
I have seen them elsewhere in Latin America -- and in Europe. For some reason, they always make me chuckle. Probably because I am so accustomed to American cops in their fortress cars.
Of course, these guys have a different mission than calming the wild streets of Los Angeles. They are tourist police. And causing smiles is probably exactly what they are meant to do.
The contemporary art museum is several blocks from the cathedral -- on Christopher Columbus street.
Considering the political brouhaha The Admiral's reputation has suffered over the past few years, I am always a bit surprised to see his name or image in public places. (The Columbus street sign at the opposite end of the block has been chiseled off of the building.) That is why I took the photograph.
It was not until I edited it that I noticed the sign has an attachment. What appears to be a hand grenade with a decorative cover.
I have no idea what it is, but I am willing to bet it is not meant as a Columbus compliment. Maybe it is supposed to be a tribal weapon. Or a warning. It may even be an advertisement for an unknown beer brand, as far as I know.
Whatever it is, Columbus's days as an honored explorer and the godfather of Pacific trade are numbered.
Speaking of signs, they do not get any more ominous than this. This shop faces the square where the Pedro Coronel museum and the Dominican church are located.
I have always found it interesting that Illuminati conspiranerds know so much about an organization that is supposed to be secretly controlling the world. But what is the sense of a world-wide conspiracy that is truly hidden?
It is a clever cover that has been affected. Games and collectibles. Who would ever guess what lurks behind those dark windows.
We stayed three nights at the Meson de Jobito -- a sprawling hotel with each room opening on to a large courtyard. The place was delightful.
I do not know who manages the property, but whoever it is has a fine sense of class and service. Every night a chocolate would be placed on the pillow of my turned-down bed. A lot of places do that.
But the chocolate was placed on a strip of paper that wished me good night in three languages -- and, better yet, told me the day.
Travelers can appreciate that last point. One of the easiest things when traveling is forgetting which day of the week it is.
I do not know who manages the property, but whoever it is has a fine sense of class and service. Every night a chocolate would be placed on the pillow of my turned-down bed. A lot of places do that.
But the chocolate was placed on a strip of paper that wished me good night in three languages -- and, better yet, told me the day.
Travelers can appreciate that last point. One of the easiest things when traveling is forgetting which day of the week it is.
Since we are talking of paper, here is the menu from the restaurant at the Quinta Real -- the hotel built around the disused Zacatecas bull ring. With some rather odd translation errors for a high-end (or up-high) restaurant.
For the most part, it is rather standard fare. And, with the exception of the steak specials, most of the meals struck me as being rather inexpensive for a restaurant of its stature.
Click on the photograph and make your own assessment.
Our visit to La Quemada raised a lot of questions for which there are very few answers. And that is exactly how the archaeologists who have worked on the site feel.
Photographers have a different question. How do you properly shoot just how steep some of ancient staircases are?
The obvious answer is not to have your subjects sit down. The tendency of the lens to foreshorten leaves my guinea pigs looking as if they have been pinned to a stone wall.
Even so, it is an interesting result.
So, there you have it. Another attempt to sum up a very complex city with a three-day visit.
But I would not have missed seeing it for -- well, for the amount I paid to see it, I guess.
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