Mazatlan #10: The Series: El Quelite

Amigos, I have been without internet and phone service for a week -- damn MegaCable ... there's a story in this, too -- thus the lapse in posting, and this morning is the last morning of a month of mornings in Mazatlan.

I have much catching up to do. Last week we had planned to travel to the nearby city of Cobala with Juan Jose, and we were about 25 minutes out of the city when Juan Jose's fanbelt blew.

He called a grua (tow truck) and in 45 minutes or so we were heading back toward Mazatlan, all of us jammed in the towtruck, with me

on top of Greg. (Happy to report: he has retained the feeling in his legs.)

JuanJo phoned a friend, journalist Arial, who said "No problem, you can use my car to take your friends to El Quelite ...." (a town north of Mazatlan). Arial was waiting for us with a big smile at JuanJo's house when we arrived. Awesome. We drove him back to work at the NorOueste building, and we were on our way ... right across the Tropic of Cancer.

El Quelite was like a movie set. It's a charro town (cowboys who wear the large sombreros, studs down the sides of their black pants, etc.), with beautiful gardens, the largest cock fighting farm in NW Mexico, a cemetary like a wonderland (one of the crypts was akin to a child's pink playhouse, with electricity), and a restaurant owned by a doctor who is a friend to famous actors, writers, and Mexican presidents.

In the cathedral we saw a statue of popular Saint Charbol, and JuanJo told us the story about Juan Diego (of the roses) who walked 15 miles to mass every day, and met the Virgin. He told The Lady: "I am a nobody, I am a small rope, a tiny ladder, the tail end, a leaf .." Poetry. He died in 1548, and was and is a model of humility for all.

(digression: as I write this, there is a gecko a few feet away)

In the cemetary and cathedral.

El Quelite sights.

Greg and Shell with the cocks behind us.