Just on the edge of Pátzcuaro is a nice little hike to an overlook with a beautiful view of the lake and Isla Janitzio out in the middle.
Back on the road after a few weeks in Pátzcuaro. It was right about here when our brakes went out again (by out, I mean we had about 10%). I inched us along for about twenty miles to the next town, left Ali and the kids parked with the truckers at the gas station, and zipped off in search of a frenos shop. Fortunately, nothing auto repair related is difficult to find in Mexico. A mile down the road I found a tire shack. I knew where the problem was, so we took the wheel off to have a look. We found the brand new wire that had just been installed was fine, but the other three pieces were banging around loose, and two of them were now worthless from having the ends ground off while spinning in the wheel. I don’t know if the last shop screwed up when they put things back together, or if they had tried to reuse a piece that was too close to failing. The tire guy didn’t have the pieces, so we put the wheel back on, and he pointed me down the street a little further. I asked how much for his help—he asked for nothing. I gave him something.
I got to the brake shop as he was letting an old VW bug down off the jack. I showed him my handful of pieces that were no good any more and he just nodded his head and pushed the jack under the truck. With the tire off we went in the garage and dumped a five gallon pail filled with miscellaneous brake parts on the floor. The two of us sat there on our knees sifting through the pile, and in no time we had all three parts we needed. He put things back together, dropped me to the ground, and slapped his hands together. Done. I asked him how much for his help—he asked for 100 pesos (~$5). Any one of those three parts would have cost me $20 in the States—not to mention the labor. I gave him $150 pesos, thanked him profusely, and was back at the Airstream a little over an hour later.
People ask us all the time, “Don’t you worry about finding parts for that?”
Palm fronds can be brutal. Lowe was running along right in front of me when he suddenly collapsed to the ground screaming. I took off his shoe and found the end of this impaled in the top of his foot. We had no idea it would be this big when we finally were able to get a grip on it with a pliers and pull it out.
European travelers (by that I mean the French and Germans) all use this little campground in Teotihuacán to store their rigs while they return home. Their rigs are always brutish enough to take on an enemy tank. I don’t know if that reflects their view of what the rest of the world is like, or if these are just the vehicles available in Europe.
For three dollars I got a cup of salsa, and a dozen tlacoyos. It was lunch for the whole family, and there were leftovers.
I think the kids were threatening me in order to get me to stop.
Come on, I can’t be the only one who has noticed the humor in the imagery of this carnival ride. Unicorn, Jesus, Magician.
A while back we handed over our propane tank to be filled. The guy brought it back the next day with half the paint gone and Sayulita written across the top of it. Finally getting that project off the list.
One of our favorite places in Mexico—Teotihuacán.
Everyone thought they were witnessing a proposal. In fact, we were simply witnessing some sort of Facebook post. The bride-to-be didn’t say yes, and didn’t kiss the man—she just took the ring off, wrapped it back in the box, checked the picture on her phone, and left.
When they were done, we went down and did the same thing.