Don’t break my heart.
Let me just start off by thanking everybody for there concern about my wellness (see recent web article “The sickness”) It was surprising to me that there would be such an outreach from the web-ernet community about my general well being. To give a quick update, I will sum in up one word: “Solid”.
When in Mexico do yourself a favor, drink only bottle water, use bottle water for cooking, and NEVER open your mouth in the shower.
So, Rachel and I set off a few weeks ago (Sept 16th) to the town Plaza here in Bucerias. We were off to celebrate Mexico Independence days (I say days because it lasted the weekend plus Friday, Monday). So, being the attentive guy that I am, I looked up what it was all about:
Quoted from the travel book “Puerto Vallarta" published by Moon Books.
El Grito de Dolores
¡Viva Mexico! Death to the gachupines! Father Miguel Hidalgo cried
passionately from the church balcony in the Guanajuato town of Dolores
on September 16, 1810 igniting action. A mostly indignea, machete-wielding
army of 20,000 coalesced around Hidalgo and his compatriots, Ignacio Allende
and Juan Aldama. Their ragtag force raged out of control through the Bajio,
massacring hated gachupines and pillaging their homes.
Hidalgo advanced on Mexico City but, unnerved by stiff royalist resistance, retreated and regrouped around Guadalajara. His rebels, whose numbers had swollen to 80,000 were no match for disciplined, 6,000-strong royalist force. On January 17, 1811, Hidalgo (now “Generalissimo”) fled north toward the U.S. but was soon apprehended, defrocked, and executed. His head and those of his comrades hung from the walls of the Guanajuato granary for 10 years in compensation for the slaughter of 138 gachupines by Hidalgo’s army.
After reading this, Rachel and I were a little apprehensive to say the least. “What if they thought we were the gachupines? And kill us VIA machette?”, “What if we do something to offend the Mexican people?”, "What if like in the movies, an alien race tries to take over the world? And I don't have a Mac to upload a computer virus, or even Will Smith!".
These questions kept running through my mind, so I came up with two plans. The plans were to go into effect in the case of an uprising against Rachel or myself. Plan “A” concerned the distinct possibility of being thought of as part of the Royalist Force. If this occurred I would push Rachel down and denounce her as a “Royalist supporter!” and run for it. (I neglected to tell Rachel about this plan, figuring she would probably not go along with it).
Plan “B” was more of a subterfuge; I would disguise myself to fit in with the local populace.
With both of my plans in place I figured I was ready to take on this new Holiday. We journeyed down to the local plaza following in the steps of people and horses alike. Once we got there our fears were quickly diminished. The place was packed with Mexicans, Horses, and three Gringos (white people). Being two of the three Gringos, we tried to blend in the best we could. It was a little overwhelming. But the $1 beers took care of all uneasiness.
We hung out in the square and ate some awesome food from one of the roadside taco stands. Now, all the tourism guides tell you to stay away from such food, and I believed that for awhile. But I can tell you in all honesty, they serve some of the best authentic food in Mexico, and for a fraction of the cost of any of the “American/Mexican” restaurants.
However, one thing I can say about Mexico in all certainty is this:
Movie1 (right click and "save as")
Movie 2 (right click and "save as")
Yes, you guessed it. They love their Billy Ray Cyrus. I was privileged, even honored, to see and hear for the first time "Achy Breaky Heart" performed in Spanish (with line dancing of course). Followed by its performance at an Orphanage benefit the following day (where I consumed a $10 Irish Car Bomb; more on that later). What a country!
Well after the dancing, processional, and all the other festivities I was ready to call it a day. When I noticed a movement near the gazebo. There was a group of “men”, or so one could say.
To say I was shocked would have been a serious understatement. These “men”, were running around drinking beer (I know, I too was shocked), and dancing with anybody and everybody they could get to throw down with them. As luck would have it, I was a victim willing partner.
So I was left thinking What the heck is going on here? then Rachel pointed out something peculiar about the second "gentleman". Who of course wasn't a gentlemen at all. She motioned for me to get the camera ready as our prey was quickly approaching.
"Wait a gosh darn second, is that who I think it is?" I said aloud. Rachel replied, "The one and only". We had found a man many thought to have long been imprisoned. A man spoken about in hushed tones. A man so feared at the Wendy’s drive-threw, that they have a court issued restraining order against him. No, I am not speaking of the one and only Joe KickAss.
I am speaking of his long lost cousin Juan...Juan KickAss.
Thought to be in a border prison for the past six years, on trumped up charges of urinating in public and exposing himself to a cactus plant. A man who's unquenchable thirst for beer, rivals only the heartiest of the KickAss family. Known in Mexico and threw out the world, for his ability to pass out standing up, while smoking a cigarette. He swooped by me like Santa going to fill my stocking on Christmas day, but it wasn't my stocking he was going to fill, but the nearest urinal. What a relief to know that even here in Mexico, I can still be around friends.