Lousy Old Cuernavaca

The week in Cuernavaca went poorly. I had class with someone who shall go unnamed, but who made me miserable. I literally developed a case of beard dandruff as a result of all the stress she was causing me. Aaarrrgh. In fact, it was so bad that I decided to take another vacation.

Michoacán is a state to the west of my Morelos. It's called "the soul of Mexico" and is famous for its Día de Muertos festivals. As Tuesday was the big day, I decided to hacer un puente and skip class to go there.

I arrived in Morelia, the capital of Michoacán, late on Saturday. I didn't really have time to do much but wander around, get a bite to eat, and go back to my hostel. Morelia is really a beautiful city, bursting at the seams with historic buildings. Lots of churches. But Saturday night, I just retired to the hostel, where I ended up drinking a 1 liter bottle of Sol (a Corona-esque beer) along with a Brit, a Pole, a Kiwi, a Swiss guy, a girl from the Yukon (did you know that only 30,000 people live in the entire Yukon territory?!) and a crazy Mexican guy with a wife and kids who lived in Morelia and stayed at the hotel for "a change of pace." Yeah, right, pal. We all know you're here to lay foreign girls. We all had our own liter of beer, and had a great time - despite the fact that the clerk told us to shut up seven times. Fool. Hostels are for getting drunk, dammit!

The UN ain't got nothin' on us.

The next day, I got up and scoured the city for a decent place to eat breakfast. I am obviously spoiled by the Mercado in Oaxaca. I ended up eating corundas, which is kind of like cornbread in cream, cheese, and salsa. Delicious, and different-yet-familiar. I wandered around for a few hours, and stopped in for lunch at a place called Super Cocina (Super Kitchen). It was pretty busy, and an elderly man asked if he could sit with me. Sure. We shot the shit for awhile, and he taught me a few words of Purépecha (the local indigneous language). Some day, I will know at least two words of every language in the world.

Afterward, I took a bus tour of the city to see the beautiful sights. On the top deck of the bus, several people were nearly decapitated by low-hanging street lights. "One out of ten passengers doesn't survive" should be the slogan of this tour company. Fortunately, I made it, and came away with a good impression of the city of Morelia. Well, time to leave. I immediately got on a bus to Pátzcuaro.