Sleeping with an Argentine Woman and Other Stories of Horror

Pátzcuaro is also a lovely little city, but it was packed to the brim with tourists for Día de Muertos. I spent an evening there, though, long enough to see their sweet library (with a Juan O'Gorman mural that is probably priceless, but without a single encyclopedia more recent than 1995) and to meet an Argentine woman in her 40s who, because of the extreme price gouging going on in hotels, offered to split a room with me. I slept in bunk beds with a woman from Argentina. Surreal.

I knew I had to get out of Pátzcuaro, though. Too many people. So I went to the state tourist office and begged them to find me a hotel room. There was one in a little city called Quiroga, so off I went. I got there late Monday. Quiroga is a nice little market town on the northeast corner of el Lago de Pátzcuaro. Small, and with great food. I liked it a lot better than Morelia or Pátzcuaro - and I suspect it might be because I could find good, cheap food quickly. I'm a food tourist; I can't deny it.

My hotel in Quiroga was nice, and reasonable priced. Private bathroom with hot water - how luxurious. I ate some dinner and then wandered around a bit - I was the only gringo I saw the whole night. Incredible. I watched "The Dance of the Happy Geezers" in their central plaza, which was entertaining.

Tuesday was the big day leading up to the really big night. I knew I had to scout a bit to find a good town for Noche de Muertos - Quiroga, unfortunately, is not very traditional. So I asked a tourism agent how I could get around, and she directed me to the mixtos: pickup trucks with benches in the back. I ended up cruising around to two or three different villages to see their distinctive Tarascan ruins and get a feel for their touristiness. Mixtos are not only a fun and potentially fatal way to get around, they're a great way to meet locals and chat a bit - they're almost all impressed that you're a gringo with enough balls and a sufficiently thrifty attitude to take the mixtos.

Back in Quiroga, I decided to ask that tour agent where she thought I should go. I went in and we chatted a bit and - surprisingly - she ended up inviting me to hang out with her and her friends that night. I was either going to get robbed, killed, or both, but I agreed to go along.

I met Noemi later on that night, when she got off work, and as we waited for her friends to show up, she took me to her dad's taco stand. I had four tacos and a soda for $2.20 USD. When her friends arrived, we jumped in a combi (essentially, a VW Bus) to Tzintzuntzan, which was completely overwhelmed by a festival atmosphere. Tons of people were there, the scent of food pervaded every corner, and the cemetaries were packed with people. They were also beautifully decorated with marigolds, candles, food of all sorts. We wandered around for at least a couple of hours, just taking it in. I had a great time.

The next day, I slept in a bit and then met up with Noemi again, to go see the cemetary in Quiroga. It was also awesomely decorated, but doesn't have the up-all-night parties of Tzintzuntzan. It was strange to hear families laughing in the background as Noemi showed me the tombs of her family members, and her neighbor who hung himself. Strange juxtaposition. After that, we ate lunch and then she showed me to the buses. Morelia, Mexico, and back to good old Cuernavaca - at 3am Thursday morning. Thursday in class, I won a competition about literature knowledge, despite the fact that I had not been in class for three days.

It's good to have language flowing in your blood.