Hey Man, Nice Shot!

"Hey Man, Nice Shot" ~ San Cristobal de Las Casas, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

Climbed atop the hill to a church and the source of all the non-stop explosives being launched over the city of San Cristobal de Las Casas, Mexico. At first I thought from all the carnival booths flowers and taxis decorated with balloons and streamers that someone important was getting married. So, I just hung around and made a few images here and there of the magnificent color cache before me.

There were a couple of tourists also trying to figure it all out and the women came over to ask me if I knew what was going on as her husband continued to take photos. I told here I hadn't a clue but would ask.

An older Mexican man told me that it was a celebration where they bless the drivers and their vehicles. Not just taxis but bus drivers, truck drivers, etc. and it would go on for about eight days. I asked if it was a Catholic thing and he said it was.

I told the tourist couple from Holland what I found out and we all agreed it seemed kind of strange. That would have been that, but we continued chatting for a couple hours about traveling, mystic experiences, the Amazon and so on. They are older than me and seemed like the typical package tourists. But looks were deceiving because they had just as exotic tales to tell as I and I'd say they even one-upped me on several levels.

The level of connection I think we all felt for each other seemed as if it were destined and we ended our chat with a promise to meet up again in Holland. So far, among the coolest people I've met on this trip and I'm looking forward to seeing them again in Holland one day soon.

After we parted, I saw a group of three men and a couple Chamula Indian women drinking some clear liquid out of a large glass coke bottle. I was getting tired of being seen as nothing more than a camera toting, soul stealing, alien tourist with pockets full of money to be tricked out of. As I walked over toward them the women hit their faces when they saw my camera. A larger Indian man wearing a large hairy black poncho vest thing and a cowboy hat answered my question about what they were drinking. It's called "Posh" and it's VERY strong. They poured me a small glass and I sipped it down as best I could even though I wasn't up for drinking just yet. And, because I did they all seemed to accept me instantly as just a curious fellow human being instead of a tourist. The all their eyes were glassy and they couldn't get over the fact I was drinking their "Posh" with them. That felt pretty good so afterward I saw one Chamula family standing nearby getting ready to try out a carnival shooting game. I asked if I could take some video and they paused before saying no. Then the Chamula with the shaggy black pancho said something to them, I'm guessing that he said I was ok, and then they agreed to let me shoot a bit of video of them. Score!

The next day I was feeling more confident that I could interact with the Chamulas and after some time in the Indian mercado in San Cristobal, I caught a collective for the nearby town of San Juan Chamula. There's a church there were they used to do sacrifice and it is forbidden to take photos inside the church. Many of the indians think a photo steals their soul etc. And it's rumored that several years ago they stoned a foreign couple to death for refusing to respect the rule about no photos inside the church.

I'd been there many years ago and the town has grown into more of a small city. You now have to pay for a permit to go inside the church and since I've seen it before and wanted to save my pesos, I decided to just make a few images of the front of the church instead.

Off on the side of the church there is a courtyard with a small fountain and some public toilets you can pay to use. I wandered around the courtyard looking for something abstract or maybe an interesting angle of the church architecture.

I noticed an open door and some burning candles (velas) just inside so I took a quick photo. No one was around and there were no signs prohibiting entry so I just stepped right in to get a closer shot. The velas were all in front of case with three or four saint statues inside. I snapped just one more and then an older man came in from a side door that appeared to go into the main church's chamber. His eyes got big when he saw my camera and then he started yelling at me that photos were prohibited. I told him I only took photos of the candles. He looked extremely worried and I gathered that it was likely going to be his neck for leaving his post. He forced me into the churches main chamber where there was a large group of French tourists with a guide and some indians praying on a floor covered with pine needles and candles. Two more rougher looking Chamula elders grabbed both my arms and the three of them escorted me through the church and out the front where another Chamula gatekeeper had a police radio. They all started screaming at me and demanded to see what was on my camera. I showed them the candle photos and they commanded me to delete them. They all started looking really worried, angry and upset, but the one with the cowboy hat and a radio had that look like he'd caught a good sized fish. He called the police and they answered back that they were on their way. They demanded my passport and I told them I didn't have it on me. The one with the cowboy hat demanded money and I told him no. I told him I didn't take photos inside the church and that I just took photos of some candles by the bathrooms and that I've now deleted them.

He grabbed for my camera and yanked it back from him. I told him I'd done nothing wrong and if they didn't want people to walk up and take photos by the bathrooms they should put up a sign. He pointed to the sign above the church and I again explained I didn't go inside the main part of the church.

My heart was racing a million beats a second, but I was glad that the police were on the way and hopefully I could find one who spoke English and explain that I knew and respected their rules about no photos inside the church.

The one with the cowboy hat was now saying I also needed to pay or going inside the main part of the church. I told they dragged me through the church against my will and that I had no intention of going in otherwise. So now he was saying I took photos inside the main part of the church and changing the story. I began to wake up and realize there was no way in Hell the police were going to take the side of a filthy American gringo and I knew as soon as they got there it'd be all over. At best I would get out with only being held and some money extorted... perhaps even lose my camera. At worst... well, I didn't want to think about that and started walking. They yelled for me to stop and that police were coming. I told them great and have them come and get me.

Soon I was around a corner and had dodged into a shack where it looked like they sold tequila but no one was in there. I took out my ball cap, put on my sunglasses, and put on my over-sized rain coat and went back out onto the street. The collectivos were all down by the main plaza so I didn't want to risk being spotted by going back.

I noticed one full collectivo heading out and flagged it down. They squeezed me into the front by the driver to collect just one more fare and we were off. Whew! That was a close one!

There weren't many photos made of San Juan Chamula other than the one in this post, but it's not really that interesting a place anyway. And, I did get away without losing a peso, my camera, or worse. I'd call that a win.

"Prohibido" ~ San Juan Chamula, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

San Cristobal has grown into a very strange mix of raw indigenous culture colliding with mega-foreign tourism and hipster clubs. The indigenous working the tourists on the streets have become more aggressive than I remember. I'm not sure how that will evolve, but I wouldn't be surprised if their revolutionary organization the "Zapotistas" raises it's head again if these people feel like they're getting pushed out by all the new progress.

I hope to return to San Cristobal de Las Casas one day and find they've struck a balance the benefits all. The people are mostly very kind there, the indigenous culture is mostly preserved, and the vistas are spectacular.

More later, and stay tuned!

Skip Hunt
Austin, Texas

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Medusa

"Medusa" ~ Juchitan de Zaragoza, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

This is a monument to the powerful Zapotec women of Juchitan. It's based on a famous black & white photo of a Zapotec women wearing a headdress of live iguanas taken sometime in the 50's. They eat iguana & armadillo here but I haven't found a good taco stall for them... yet. ;)

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Fierce!

"Fierce" ~ Juchitan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

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Bonita

"Bonita" ~ Juchitan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

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Payaso Triste

"Payaso Triste" ~ Juchitan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

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Hey Babe, Take A Walk On The Wild Side,

"La Gente del Centro" ~ Juchitan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

The bus pulled into Juchitan about an hour and a half earlier than expected. Normally that's a good thing, but when it's not even 5AM yet... it makes it a bit rough with absolutely nothing open yet.

Still dark, I strapped on my packs and set out in a direction at random. Eventually I found someone up and stirring about in a small tienda and asked if I was heading in a good direction to find a cheap room. The fellow was somewhat effeminate and very helpful. He touched my shoulder in a gentle way and wished me luck as I headed off with new instructions. I knew Juchitan as a place where females ruled for the most part and knew there were males who were raised as women from birth in some cases, but I'd read they also wore dresses and makeup. This fellow dressed like an average dude only effeminate.

Although it's tough finding anything open at that hour, it does give you a chance to have a look around under street lights without having to dodge buses and taxis or step around vendors and such while you get a general lay of the place.

The first few hotels were more pricey than I could afford, but I eventually made it to the main plaza and "centro" where I would likely have the best shot at finding budget rooms. The plaza had some very strange human figures made up of cloth pieces. A fine art installation but seemed odd for such a rustic Mexican town.

A policemen in a white t-shirt looking nowhere near as intimidating as most "law" men in Mexico, was very friendly and suggested a couple places where I could find a cheap room. The first one was right on the plaza but I figured it'd likely be noisy once the nearby market got going at daybreak. The second one was a couple of blocks away and I was now desperately needing to find a bano muy pronto. I'd already chanced it by taking a leak on the street without being seen, but the situation was getting a bit more complicated now and a proper toilet was in dire need.

I knocked softly on the metal door of the posada and a tall, wiry and delicate man with long hair answered. He had a room for $150 pesos so I jumped on it sight unseen. I was so glad he answered the door so early and had a room within my budget that I didn't even ask to see it first.

After handing over the dough and giving him my name, I was in my new digs and flipped on the light. Not too horrible, but the bathroom hadn't been finished out in tiling and was really rough and stained raw concrete. Beggars can't be choosey and this would definitely do just fine in a pinch as I tried not to think about how impossible it would be to truly get this rough and raw concrete to any state resembling what some folks commonly refer to as "clean".

At the end of the day (or the beginning as the case was) it was a room with a bed, a lock and my own bathroom. The fellow seemed very kind and I didn't have to walk around for too long in the dark, or in the rain before I found something more or less suitable for a few days. Nor, did I have to resort to drastic measures when it came to restroom facility. So, I'll go ahead and put a checkmark in the "win" category on this one. :-)

After finishing up my nights sleep with about three hours of bizarre dreams, I braved my new shower and then hit the streets.

The market was starting to look alive, but when I got to the end of one side of it, there was some police tape blocking off the road toward the Casa de Cultura where I was headed. I heard a rustic marching band and then saw a whole flock of elaborately dressed women marching with large candles in front of them and in front of the men's band.



Someone told me they were practicing for Guelaguetza and another said they were making a TV commercial.


"Mujeres de Juchitan" ~ Juchitan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

After a few snaps, I worked my way down the street and closer to the action and noticed there was a full film crew with a crane set up. Not your average TV crew. This was the full scale film sort of crew and when they broke to move production into the area inside the church compound and "Casa de Cultura", I slipped in as one of the crew I guess. There were security guards keeping locals out, but I guess because I was a gringo with a camera and appearing to be texting on my iPhone they must have thought I was part of the crew.

I stayed as long as I could until they broke for lunch. I considered sitting down for some free grub too, until it dawned on me that I was likely pushing my luck and someone would surely soon be asking who I was and why I was there. Besides, it was starting to get a bit boring and I hadn't seen much of the town in daylight yet. So, I just casually sauntered out the gate and down the street before anyone noticed.

A couple days later I was chatting with some locals and asking about the men who are raised as women. They told me they are called Muxhe (also spelled Muxe) and they are different than "gay". They said that some are homosexual, but some live and dress as women, marry women and have children.

They also mentioned that either the Discovery Channel or the History Channel (they didn't seem too clear on that point) were just there two days ago making a documentary about the Muxhe. They told me all of those women I'd photographed were actually men. "No way!", I said. They were all way too convincing. They all carried themselves exactly like women and not in an exaggerated drag queen flamboyant way. I said, "Come on! Some had to be women." They said there were a few women mixed in too but most were Muxhe. They told me the leader of the Muxhe was named Cazorla and that I could meet with her/him if I wanted. They gave me directions but I couldn't find the place. Not sure what I would have asked if I'd found her though. Permission to do some sort of documentary might have interested me, but it looked like someone had already beat me to it.

The rest of the time I looked more intently at every female I saw in the market and around the main plaza. Soon, I was picking out the Muxhe with a little more ease. The fellows I chatted with emphasized that there were men who were gay, and that Muxhe were not the same. That some had chosen homosexuality and others had been raised as female from the womb but had sexual relationships with other women.

There were some men who wore dresses, makeup and had long hair. Others wore men's clothing but had makeup on. And the last night there was a traveling music show that set up a couple stages in the course of an afternoon and were packed up and gone by the next morning.

On my way back to the posada that night, I saw three men with short hair, makeup, skimpy dresses that looked like they were hookers, and very high heels. These fellas were much more aggressively flamboyant and sort of hanging around the corner by my hotel. The policeman I'd spoken with had warned me to stay away from the areas with the prostitutes unless I wanted trouble.

As I passed the three fellas in impossibly high heel pumps, I said, "buenas noches". I was carrying a plastic bag of sweet coconut water (cheaper when you get it in a plastic bag instead of a cup) and one of them called out to me saying something about wanting to play with my little coconut bag. I didn't understand what they said at first so I looked back and smiled. It wasn't until they all laughed, whistled and said "Ay Papi!" that I got what they'd actually said. Doh! I just thought they were just admiring my bag of refreshing coconut water.

There was an alley behind the hotel and just below my room. I had the window open and the ceiling fan going. I'm not sure what time it was, but it must have been around 5AM that I heard a low-pitched but effeminate voice that sounded like that transvestite actor Devine. It was a slow moan that called out passionately and constantly for Paaaaah-Pee, Paaaaaaaaaah-Pee. It went on for a good half hour or so. I didn't see anyone in the alley and have no idea what was going on. Perhaps someone was simply having an amorous dream about there Dad and were talking in their sleep? ;-) I haven't a clue, but it was now perfectly clear that I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

Overall, the regular men seemed more docile, friendly and kind with only a few exceptions. You just didn't feel threatened at all there and mostly relaxed and at peace. Perhaps there may be something to considering a more female dominated culture. Worth a shot I'd say. Perhaps there would be less war?

There were also several free community art programs and fun educational facilities for the children were they learned about dance, culture and local ecology.

Juchitan simply felt like a different place than most of Mexico to me. The women there even sat different with their legs spread apart on chairs or stools. Noticed many of them with very hairy arms and a couple older ones with the beginnings of beards. I don't know if that was because females dominate and they don't really care about male ideas of what is acceptable composure for women or if more of the women I saw were actually males or Muxhe.

One thing is for certain, if you are in Juchitan and a "machismo" male, you are WAY outnumbered.


"Tres Chicas" ~ Juchitan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

I am now in Oaxaca City where there's a giant festival called Guelaguetza firing up in a couple days. I'm not keen to stay for the massive crowds, but I may stay for at least the first day of it before making my escape.

The young man running the little coffee shop where I'm writing this, tells me he was born in Juchitan. I told him about my experience there and he was amused. After he looked at my photos of the women, he said at least half of them are indeed Muxhe and not women. See if you can tell which is which!

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More later and stay tuned!

Skip Hunt
Austin, Texas

Oaxaca!

"Oaxaca!" ~ Juchitan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

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Audio Phone Blog from Oaxaca

"Antigua" ~ Oaxaca, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

Hola Amigos,

Just uploaded a new phone blog from the zocalo in Oaxaca City during Guelaguetza. Heading on the night bus to Mexico City at 11PM.

Check out the new phone blog HERE

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Chillin

"Chillin" ~ Oaxaca, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

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Refuge

"Refuge" ~ Oaxaca, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

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Desperado

"Desperado" ~ Oaxaca, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

The bus from Juchitan pulled into the Oaxaca City first-class station that I'd never seen before. Turns out it's fairly new and this was the first time I hadn't arrived in the city via motorcycle or second-class bus. The announcements are now in English as well.

There was an electric buzz in the city since the largest festival in Oaxaca (Guelaguetza) was about to get underway. The streets were already packed with revelers and mariachi bands. It looked like it might rain soon as well so I decided to go to the budget hotel I'd stayed in before. I only hoped they weren't full yet.

The old fellow I'd chatted with at my standby hotel painted in pink (Hotel Yalalag) remembered me and my motorcycle from other trips. He smiled and told me I'd have a room as long as I needed even through Guelaguetza since they don't take reservations. 

The excitement in the air was palpable and I'm glad I decided to stop for the festival, but the massive amount of indigenous families that swarmed into the city quickly became a bit trying to get around.

Every evening there would be some sort of parade with an impressive video projected huge onto the face of the Zocalo cathedral. Followed by an equally impressive fireworks display.  
Each evening the crowd got more massive to the point that it was just one giant mob and you couldn't even move. The fireworks got more impressive as well to the point where it looked like an authentic war zone fire fight. That's not an exaggeration. After one night the fire was coming down from the sky burning some people. In the onslaught of explosive mayhem some of the rockets accidentally went into the crowd and exploded. The next night I watched them from about five blocks away. ;)

Oaxaca is famous for it's cheese, chocolate & Mezcal. None of which I'd had any yet. So one evening I decided to knock out the trifecta. Only, I got the order messed up. 

I hadn't eaten all day before I settled on the least touristy looking Mezcal shops to sample the varieties and flavors. The boy kept telling me there wasn't any difference in the  various brands in terms of quality. He said they were all the same quality and that the price differences were only due to presentation and flavor. 

He just kept pouring me sample that I'd ask for and at one point I wondered when he'd cut me off from drinking for free. I had the price of the bottle I'd already selected before starting so there'd be no chance of adjusting the price after excessive free sampling. ;)

Second in the trifecta was getting my chocolate fix in. My sight had got somewhat blurry and couldn't read the labels on the Soledad chocolate factory bars. There was a large metal bin  of raw putty chocolate you could buy by the kilo in a clear plastic bag. I bought twenty pesos worth and dug in. About half way through the bag my better judgement started creeping back in. My stomach also began to object, but I was now committed. It was delicious for sure, but not swimming around in a belly full of Mezcal. 

Starting to feel nauseous, I decided I better wrap up the trifecta with a couple Oaxaca cheese quesadillas.

Too little too late. I don't know if the boy had misinformed me about the Mezcal quality issue or that I just drank too much. Perhaps it was adding in the rich chocolate or the order of ingestion. In short, I had the mother of all headaches all the next day and ended up drinking a papaya licuado that had been sitting in the sun and then cooled back down with ice cubes made from tap water and dug out of the ice tray with dirty indigenous fingernails. 
I know what you're likely asking, "How could you be so stupid?" and I'd answer, "Good question!".

All I can say is it was one bad initial decision to sample Mezcal on an empty stomach that just compounded itself. And, as I sit here in Mexico City three days later, I'm still paying for that lapse in judgement. 

Lesson learned. For now. ;)

"Framed" ~ Oaxaca City, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt


Skip Hunt
Austin, Texas

Revolution in Mexico City

"Revolution!" ~ Mexico City (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

I've been mostly hitting art museums and galleries here in Mexico City and trying to get my digestive track back on a stable course before moving on. A local friend from Spain bought me some herbs to try, but so far the suggestion from a street vendor to drink guayaba has been helping.

When I arrived here in Mexico City it was early, the metro was already packed, I hadn't slept on the overnight bus at all, it was raining, and both budget hotels I hiked to were full.

They recognized me at my preferred budget Hotel Republica and found a room for me to sleep in for a couple hours until someone checked out. Nice being a "regular" sometimes. :)

"Espiritu" ~ Mexico City (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

After I had a regular room and a hot shower, I ventured out to the Zocalo where there were all sorts of government protests going on and hundreds of folks dressed in indigenous costume playing drums and dancing in protest of the government and catholic church.

"Protest Dance" ~ Zocalo, Mexico City (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

I toured the National Palace on the Zocalo after two security levels were passed and was very impressed. I had no idea you could even tour it after all the times I've been here. So impressive indeed that you're almost jealous that you're not a Mexican!

That jealousy quickly fades though just as soon as you wrangle your way through any of the hardcore street market areas or attempt to bull doze your way with all the force you've got just to fight your way out of a crowded metro subway car during crush hour.

Yesterday I didn't feel like seeing anything new or exploring. Just a pleasant walk in Chapultepec Park and then spent about three hours sitting in a small picnic pavilion with colorful plastic thinking of how to photograph it. Spent the last hours of the day just strolling within the always impressive Tamayo Art Museum and the Museum of Modern art.

The abstracts in this posting are what I came up with.

"Tamayo Abstract Uno" ~ Mexico City (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

"Tamayo Abstract Dos" ~ Mexico City (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

"Tamayo Abstract Tres" ~ Mexico City (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

Hasta & Stay Tuned!

Skip Hunt
Austin, Texas

Garibaldi Blast

"Garibaldi Blast" ~ Mexico City (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

Last night after hanging out in the park near the Palacio Bellas Artes, I was headed back to my room to call it a day and slip into the strange dreamtime that always colors my slumber in Mexico City.

As I crossed the boulevard Lazaro Cardenas, I noticed some bright purple neon down a bit and remembered it must be the famous mariachi Plaza Garibaldi.

I still had a little battery power and wanted to try some dirty and noisy night street photography.

I noticed the familiar ornate but macho mariachi outfits out in the street like men of the night searching for their next musical trick.

The plaza was absolutely on fire with intoxicating life, love, music, dance & color. I'd been there in the past but never as late as midnight... the magic hour!

Listen to what it sounded like HERE


"Bailar Garibaldi" ~ Mexico City (c) 2011 Skip Hunt


Hasta & Stay Tuned!

Skip Hunt
Austin, Texas

Audio Phone Blog from Caletilla

"Fall In The Sea Eventually" ~ Caletilla, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

Hola Compadres,

Just uploaded a new phone blog from a tiny place in the state of Michoacan, Mexico called Caletilla. I just arrived in the city of Morelia, but did this audio phone blog recording from the coast.

Check out the new phone blog HERE

Have I done a compelling job taking you along with me for the adventure? If the answer is "yes" then time is almost up to get on board and to get cool stuff by supporting OFF THE DEEP END!

Fishing Hooks of Caletilla

"Fishing Hooks" ~ Caletilla. Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

What this is all about:

I think many get lulled into the daily routine, the bad news, the commute, the grind... to the point that they no longer remember to experience their lives fully. Happens to me as well. What I've found is that when I break out of that routine and comfort zone, forcing myself to deal with fresh and foreign experience through travel without itinerary, I begin to wake up. Details I hadn't noticed before present themselves anew and everything I experience feels more alive. I feel more alive and fully experiencing all of the incredible variants in sound, color, texture, thought and emotion.

What I'm trying to do is communicate that experience through images, writing about it, audio/video clips and general musings along the way. Many have told me that after they've followed along on one of these excursions, they begin to notice things they hadn't noticed before or are inspired to dive into their own life's experience.

I know you can also wake yourself up by shifting your perspective in thought via quiet meditation, walking your dog, working in the garden or a trip to your local library or art gallery. I'm just doing "it" more in the extreme through travel in order to capture more dramatic images and drive the point home more vividly.

The Kickstarter project is just my latest attempt to get my costs covered, provide incentives like fine prints, books, etc. and maybe have a bit left over for another adventure.

There's still time to pledge support and get a piece of this action before time runs out! More info HERE

Sonrisa de Caletilla

"Lanchas de Caletilla" ~ Michoacan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

The bus pulled into Lazaro Cardenas before sunrise and it appeared the taxi drivers were all still drinking just a block from the bus station. I passed a couple gorgeous women still working the street, only when I got closer I realized they weren't women at all. Still, it was amazing how good they looked considering they'd been working all night and their makeup still looked pretty fresh.

Asked around and soon I was on a bus heading along the coast to Caletilla. I was expecting there would be a bit more to it than about four palapa-style basic restaurants situated on a hill overlooking the Pacific and coves all around it.

There was a place that had two rooms but they seemed a little pricey for what they were.

I asked at one of the restaurants and they suggested I try the little neighboring beach called Soledad. The man (Pedro) even gave me a ride there and waited while I had a look-see.

The only room was next to a family with several small children so I asked Pedro if I could just ride back up to Caletilla with him.

I told him I didn't need anything special and had my own hammock. He said I could just hang my hammock in his restaurant if I wanted and didn't need to pay anything, but asked that I give his wife Patricia a little tip when left. I thanked him and said I'd be happy to and that I'd eat all my meals in his restaurant as well.

At first I had a little withdrawal to have access to nothing but my hammock, small coves to swim in alone, and the infinite Pacific horizon with large waves crashing below.

"Sonrisa de Caletilla" ~ Michoacan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

It was only a couple hours before I was at complete peace and no longer even looking at my watch. Just letting my mind go and play somewhere out there in the deep blue with a mantra of surf beats providing a soothing soundtrack.

Eventually I drifted into a siesta in my hammock until a large group arrived. They were an entourage with a fellow running for political office. Patricia seemed to be conferring with the candidate and everyone kept emptying liters of beer and scooping up mounds of seafood on tostadas.

The little fiesta went on for about an hour or so and then they all left with Patricia after passing out tshirts with the candidates face on them and loading up with more cauguamas (liters) of beer for the road.

I spent the rest of the afternoon hiking around looking for images and then settled into one of the more accessible coves to swim.

"Caletilla" ~ Michoacan, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

Since I wasn't paying for lodging, I decided to splurge on a plate of octopus mixed with tons of garlic, chiles and tomatoes. They didn't have any sodas and were amused that I'd want anything other than beer. So beer it was. :)

It was only a short while after I'd ordered the octopus when Patricia came careening back from the entourage party. She looked pretty wasted and was toting around a grandbaby. Or maybe it was her baby. I'm not certain, but her daughter had a baby about the same age and Patricia doted over that baby as her own cub.

Her teenage son was driving the SUV with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a cauguama of cerveza in his lap.

Patricia motioned for me to come over and said "Vamanos!" She wanted me to get into the SUV after they'd reloaded with more beer and the baby changed. I quickly said I'd love to but I'd already ordered some octopus. And, I was apprehensive about getting into a vehicle with a drunk teen driving, his drunk mother wielding an 8 month old, and this other Mexican hippy dude wearing a classic Mexican straw hat and a necklace full of giant colored beads.

Just before they left I changed my mind and said I'd go, the fellow preparing the octopus said he'd simmer it and I'd be ready when we got back. I got in, the teenaged driver poured a tall glass of beer and handed it to me. Patricia snatched up the baby and jumped back in with a fresh drink. We were off!

As we careened around the twisted coastal highway, I watched the ocean and listened to the bantor. The hippy dude asked me something that I couldn't quite understand. Either he was asking me if I'd killed anyone in Texas, or if I'd seen people killed in Texas. I told him I didn't understand so he repeated the question and then drew his hand across his neck like a knife. I still wasn't sure which question he was asking me but figured the answer was the same regardless and answered, "No."

We mostly just kept stopping off at little palapas along the way, showing off the baby and drinking more beer.

Patricia seemed like just the kindest person with the most pleasant demeanor, even drunk. Then, in a radical shift she'd completely turn into a very mean spirit and her face would change to more of a bitter scowl. I watched it happen in the SUV through the side mirror. She kissed the baby, then looked out into the void. Her face looked overcome with anger and she flung her glass out the SUV window. I heard it shatter on the rocks and then she smiled, kissed the baby again and cranked up the stereo to the point of distorted noise as she sang along.

I watched her lose it a couple more times on the folks working for her, and as soon as she'd lose it in a fit of rage, she'd turn back into sweet Patricia again.

The last time was the morning I'd left, one of the younger boys was looking after the baby and a younger girl was standing near. The baby started to cry and Patricia rushed over and smacked the boy after kicking him. The poor girl only guilty of being within striking distance caught Patricia's other hand across her face hard. I was standing right there and hadn't seen anything that warranted punishment at all. The baby just started crying. As far as I'm aware, this is simply what babies do sometimes isn't it?

It was all very awkward as Patricia chased down a third small boy and smacked him around too.

Then she helped prepare the breakfast I'd ordered, lit some candles in front of a portrait of the virgin, and then looked very pleasant as she sat down to read her bible.

As awkward as it was for me, it was fascinating to get a real glimpse into the daily routine of these people's lives. I figured Patricia was raising her own children, some of her grandchildren, and managing a couple employees while running a small restaurant. Pedro wasn't around much at all and I figured this was just their way. Who am I to judge?

The day before I hiked to another beach with blackened sand. I was completely alone and imagined being the last soul on the planet and missing all the people who were once here.

On the way back I stopped off at another small restaurant along the river's mouth to get a drink. I sat there for a couple hours and observed that family as well but saw nothing but kindness. Actually, just about every person I'd encountered so far in the state of Michoacan had been just the most friendly and kind people I've ever met.

I remember this same kindness when I passed through this region on a motorcycle several years ago. I thought maybe I'd just got lucky that time, but now I'm beginning to think kindness is just the norm in this area. That is, unless that baby starts to cry again. ;)

The city if Morelia is next, so stay tuned for more coming soon!

I'm also coming down to the final days of my Off The Deep End creative Kickstarter project. It's an all or nothing thing, so unless I reach my goal by the deadline which is coming up very soon, my project will be cancelled, none of my pledge backers will be charged, and my project will not be funded. I do love going off on adventures like this one and taking as many along virtually as I can. However, there are costs that I have to cover myself out of pocket. My hope is that you enjoy what I do and will help me continue by pledging your support. It's not a "donation" of sorts since I'm offering creative incentive awards of different levels in return. The awards are also priced below my usual pricing, so it's really a pretty good deal. You can get more info on how you can become an official backer and help me push this project over the finish line HERE

Skip Hunt
Austin, Texas

Vamanos!

"Vamanos!" ~ Morelia, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

"Ay Cabron!, just who do you think you are? You think you're something special?!"

"No. Nothing special at all. Just using the marginal skills the great spirit gave me & trying to lift myself out of the cauldron of fear the most powerful have brewed for the masses. Trying to refocus away from the dark recesses that keep a soul in prison and point my lens at the utterly amazing details around all of us all the time. And, draw attention to the fact we're all alive right now this eternal moment and attempt to cast away the black shroud that imprisons us all."

"Uh, if you say so Cabron. You getting on the bus or not?"

Rhapsody

"Rhapsody" ~ Morelia, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

Deadline August 14th to get cool stuff by backing OFF THE DEEP END!

Laying Some Pipe

"Laying Some Pipe" ~ Morelia, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

At first I thought this magnificent cathedral had the most awesome stereo system on the planet until I turned around to see these behemoth pipes being played live!

Check out the recording I made below.

Deadline August 14th to get cool stuff by backing OFF THE DEEP END!

Ruta 249

"Ruta 249" ~ Morelia, Mexico (c) 2011 Skip Hunt

Deadline August 14th to get cool stuff by backing OFF THE DEEP END!