The cathredral in Mazatlan. Not much Baptist influence.
Vi and I had been talking of taking a couple of weeks to cruise Mexico and in particular Baja California, but hadn’t, for all the reasons and tribulations that afflict humanity. Finally we just hopped into the CRV and went. Wing it, figure it out when we got there, wherever “there” was. Reason, planning, and common sense are much overrated. Too much to describe here: Arandas, Zacatecas, Aguas Calientes, León, Durango, Mazatlan, and finally Baja. A few notes, though.
Zacatecas is an old, old city built on what is almost a universal Mexican plan—central plaza with a government building and a church. Mexico is not yet a mass consumerist society with everything decided at corporate in New Jersey, and may never be, so town centers are distinctive and the churches all different and often lovely. It is a touristy city (Mexicans tourist: I think we saw three gringos, including me) and so has loud, bad music blaring from every bar and restaurant.
These signs, common in Mexico, indicate a topless beach.
On a side street, however, we found a cantina of the old school from the turn of the previous century, small, convincingly itself, and homey. We ordered shots of Centenario Reposado, planning to stay half an hour. But then a few regulars came in—it was that sort of place—with guitars and we ended up leaving maybe four hours later. I am persuaded that Violeta knows the words of every song ever written and the melodies of the rest, so she happily sang along and there were many toasts.