Guitar Town—Paracho

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Sometimes it feels like there isn’t anywhere we haven’t been in Mexico. We cover a lot of ground, but because we do it in an RV we are somewhat limited in the areas we can stay—and thus, the places we can visit. That’s what makes a road trip with just the truck so much fun. We can explore just a little further afield than we otherwise might.

We’ve been wanting to visit Paracho for a couple years now. It’s a small town, and not particularly close to anything, but somehow became famous many, many years ago for crafting guitars by hand. We wanted to visit to buy a guitar, not because either of us knows how to play the guitar, much less any musical instrument, but because we like to have them around so at the very least our kids can be exposed to them. We also like to own things that are actually built by hand, and buy them from the people who made them.

We arrived in Paracho on Sunday afternoon with the market in full swing. The streets were jammed with people as we crawled through town looking for a place to park. About halfway through, just after passing the busy plaza, a cop waved us to the side of the road. Seeing as there was nowhere to pull over to, this meant just stopping traffic dead. She came up to the window, but wouldn’t really say anything to us, instead just motioning for us to wait a minute. In the rearview mirror I saw another cop running down the street, and all I could think was, “Here we go.” I was sure he was going to say we had performed some infraction back at the other end of town—the whole stereotypical charade. How shamed I would quickly be for thinking that.

“Hola, buenas tardes. You turn around, we have parking for you.”

Instead of a shakedown, we were being given preferential treatment by a cop who just didn’t want us to pass through his town without stopping to visit. We turned around and drove back to find him standing in front of a parking space that he had blocked off for us. We parked, got out of the truck, and he was gone, back to work.

Every once in a while Ali and I find that we need a little reminder like that. Way back in the beginning of our travels, in Bangkok, we made a pact with ourselves to always expect the best from people, and let them prove us wrong—instead of the other way around. We’re pretty good at it, overall, but we aren’t perfect, and we do slip. Then, a simple act like this makes us reflect, and reset.

We walked through a few shops, but nothing was really grabbing us. Then we walked into Amezcua’s. After looking around for a few minutes, Gerónimo came out and introduced himself.

I asked if that was him on the cover of the LA Times Magazine. He said yes, and then proceeded to walk me down the line of pictures. His father next to him, then his father as a little boy standing alongside Gerónimo’s grandfather, and so on down the line. He picked out a guitar for us and played a song. It sounded incredible. Hopefully someone in our family will sing a tune to it someday. Cost $100 USD.

Then it was off to the market for—what else—carnitas.

Roadside lunch stop, complete with bow and arrows, and guitar.

We spent a couple hours in Zacapu, and were back on the road.

It was right about here, ten miles from home, when our brakes went out—about 90% out, anyway. Fortunately, we were out of the mountain roads, and were able to limp the rest of the way using first, second, and our hazards. Slow moving vehicles with flashing hazards is so common in Mexico that nobody thinks twice about giving you a little space.

The next day I drove to a nearby brake shop, where they found this for me. One hour, and ten bucks later, Plátano was good as new.

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9 Comments on “Guitar Town—Paracho”

  1. Great adventure!! So happy you got a guitar from Don Amezcua! I can’t wait for the videos of one of the kids playing it. Have fun!!

  2. I loved this post. It took me back to the days when you wrote about the little details that made up your days. While I still enjoy your pictures, I like your writing style, observances about the people and places around you, and wry sense of humor even more. Thanks for opening that window into your lives again!

  3. A+ for the guitar. When my son was growing up I taught him the basics. Within no time he was running circles around me and started creating his own songs. It’s a gift of a lifetime.

  4. Hi Ali,Pat and the kids,

    It looks like you are in a great area, lots of character and cool weather, or so it looks. What a great road trip! I’m loving the guitar, I agree it is important to expose kids to music.

    I love how little Plátano held together till you got out of the mountains. Finally giving in once most of the danger had passed. As if it knew it was carrying important cargo. Actually now that I type this, it reminds me of the little engine that could. I really like the pact that you made years ago, I might have to give that a try.
    Be safe friends! ~ Jill

  5. I have a theory that every single person in the industrialized world wants to learn to play the guitar. Alas it’s mostly guys who learn to play as teens. When asked, they will say they learned to play because it was so cool. But when pressed they’ll admit it was to attract girls.

  6. Good on ya for treating the kids to such a fine looking instrument, and one that requires a little bit of dexterity to play.

    If one has at least some experience with a physical musical instrument, they gain an appreciation of what it takes to create music, and will learn to listen with more discrimination.

    If I may ask, how much does the luthier charge for his beautiful work?

  7. I bought two guitars from his his father Geronimo 40 years ago, I gave one away the concert model made of Australia birds eye maple, spruce top, palo escrito neck….not enough superlatives to describe quality and tone. I’d like to go back one day and get another one! Thanks for the photos, it’s now a modern village.

  8. David Romo, I had exactly the same experience. Played two guitars in Don Geronimo’s living room and couldn’t decide so I bought both and gave one away. I still have my Amezcua and its tone is unbelievable.

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