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We reached Guadalajara early afternoon and found a great campground with full hook ups, showers, and laundry. Almost everyone there was from the northern U.S., it was almost like being home. Our neighbors who came from Wisconsin told us they drove to Mexico every year for the winter. The climate was great and living very inexpensive. "Beats shoveling that dad blamed snow." He says. "And wearing all those heavy clothes and galoshes." She was wearing a cotton t-shirt, shorts and sandals when she said it.
After setting up camp and unhooking the trailer we drove into the city to look around. Guadalajara was an impressive city. We explored the charming old government buildings. Many of which had been standing since the Spaniards built them. Most were built out of stone then plastered with beige or white stucco. Some were trimmed with wrought iron and Mexican tiles and others had terra cotta tile roofs. Around the main square were the Cathedral, The Governor's Palace and the State Museum. On the fourth side was a concert hall .The doors were open and we could hear the orchestra practicing. We were drawn into the cool dark interior by the music. Only the stage where the musicians played was lighted. We sat in the back and listened for a while. Bill and I could have stayed and enjoyed the music longer but the kids were getting fidgety so we left.
Back out at the main plaza Bill flagged down one of the horse drawn carriages. It was shinny black lacquer with red and gold trim; its wooden spoke wheels were painted white. The bonnet was red and trimmed with big crepe paper flowers. Inside it had two facing seats. The driver, who wore a top hat, sat on a high seat with the reins in his hands and his foot on the break. A muscular, well-groomed brown horse, wearing a sombrero with a large red flower, pulled the carriage. Six of us settled in the passenger seats. John Mc climbed up to ride with the driver who was a very congenial man and delighted to point out all the sights to us. These carriages went all over town, the drivers bluffing the cars and busses for the right of way. At the end of our ride he dropped us off a block from the main plaza at a large indoor/outdoor market place. We went in through the street level shops then down some stairs to the open-air market.
The area was filled with color and noise. Bolts of multicolored yardage stood in the middle of the market. Drums, guitars and flutes were for sale in one stall. Bananas, tomatoes, oranges and artichokes in another. A bakery was giving off delicious odors; a restaurant even more pleasing smells. Enough to make anyone hungry. Two Mariachi groups were playing, one at each end of the market. Both groups are wearing black suits trimmed with white embroidery. The jackets fit close and buttoned to the waist, the pants, which fit even closer, had flared bottoms beneath which polished black boots were visible. All had on broad brimmed white sombreros.
Our supplies needed to be restocked so we planned on buying a few items.
The first things we had buy were shopping bags to carry our purchases. In Mexico, everyone carries their own shopping bags, as the stores don’t provide them. We bought red and white-stripped ones. They were made out of a kind of plastic mesh material with red solid plastic handles.
By now it was late afternoon so Bill and I wanted to get what we needed and get back to the campground. The kids were excited and couldn't wait to spend some of their money. So far they hadn't bought any souvenirs. Gil was pulling on my skirt and whining about something he wanted to stop and look at. I turned around to grab him to hurry him up and my arm connected with his nose. Blood spurted out. He reached for his nose. When he pulled his hand away and spotted the blood he started jumping from foot to foot and began to howl. Everyone within hearing distance turned around to see what was going on. I tried to pretend that blood pouring from my kid’s nose was a perfectly normal happening. Randy and both Johns no longer knew us and quickly walked in the other direction. Paul stared at his brother, puckered up and started to bawl because Gil was bleeding. Several women turned and started toward us. I couldn't tell by their expressions if they wanted to help him or hurt me. Bill cut them off and hastily explained that it wasn't serious and we weren't trying to kill the kid regardless of how loud he was shrieking. He managed to convince everyone that Gil really was okay and we beat a hasty retreat out of the market. The only things we had purchased were the bags to put our purchases in.
On the way back to the campground we stopped at a street vendor to buy John’s favorite, jicama. As we pulled over to stop his last customers, two older women, were just walking away. They were wearing brightly colored dresses, one pink the other yellow. Below their dresses were black stockings and “old lady” black shoes. Around their shoulders and over their heads were black knit shawls. Both carried bags with their purchases. Their shopping over it was now time to go home and prepare dinner. The vendor was an old man wearing a straw hat, long sleeved shirt and jeans. The jicama was laid out on a table. After a few minutes of bargaining, we had two big jicamas and he had more pesos
Back at camp John cut the jicama into slices and put the pieces to soak in vinegar. Before the day ended he had eaten every bit of it (he made sure no one else got any!) and he had a well-deserved bellyache.
John Mc got busy cleaning out the “beery” basement compartment. Everything that was stored in there had to taken out and washed. Luckily it was just tools and spare parts. He and Randy decided to keep the unbroken bottles, but they put them, case and all into a garbage bag and moved them to a middle compartment where hopefully they wouldn’t bounce so much.
Randy unloaded his motorcycle from the trailer and spent the rest of the daylight hours cleaning and polishing it. Paul and Gil talked us into letting them take their bikes down. They were gone until dark, riding around camp, stopping to talk to everyone who would talk to them.
After setting up camp and unhooking the trailer we drove into the city to look around. Guadalajara was an impressive city. We explored the charming old government buildings. Many of which had been standing since the Spaniards built them. Most were built out of stone then plastered with beige or white stucco. Some were trimmed with wrought iron and Mexican tiles and others had terra cotta tile roofs. Around the main square were the Cathedral, The Governor's Palace and the State Museum. On the fourth side was a concert hall .The doors were open and we could hear the orchestra practicing. We were drawn into the cool dark interior by the music. Only the stage where the musicians played was lighted. We sat in the back and listened for a while. Bill and I could have stayed and enjoyed the music longer but the kids were getting fidgety so we left.
Back out at the main plaza Bill flagged down one of the horse drawn carriages. It was shinny black lacquer with red and gold trim; its wooden spoke wheels were painted white. The bonnet was red and trimmed with big crepe paper flowers. Inside it had two facing seats. The driver, who wore a top hat, sat on a high seat with the reins in his hands and his foot on the break. A muscular, well-groomed brown horse, wearing a sombrero with a large red flower, pulled the carriage. Six of us settled in the passenger seats. John Mc climbed up to ride with the driver who was a very congenial man and delighted to point out all the sights to us. These carriages went all over town, the drivers bluffing the cars and busses for the right of way. At the end of our ride he dropped us off a block from the main plaza at a large indoor/outdoor market place. We went in through the street level shops then down some stairs to the open-air market.
The area was filled with color and noise. Bolts of multicolored yardage stood in the middle of the market. Drums, guitars and flutes were for sale in one stall. Bananas, tomatoes, oranges and artichokes in another. A bakery was giving off delicious odors; a restaurant even more pleasing smells. Enough to make anyone hungry. Two Mariachi groups were playing, one at each end of the market. Both groups are wearing black suits trimmed with white embroidery. The jackets fit close and buttoned to the waist, the pants, which fit even closer, had flared bottoms beneath which polished black boots were visible. All had on broad brimmed white sombreros.
Our supplies needed to be restocked so we planned on buying a few items.
The first things we had buy were shopping bags to carry our purchases. In Mexico, everyone carries their own shopping bags, as the stores don’t provide them. We bought red and white-stripped ones. They were made out of a kind of plastic mesh material with red solid plastic handles.
By now it was late afternoon so Bill and I wanted to get what we needed and get back to the campground. The kids were excited and couldn't wait to spend some of their money. So far they hadn't bought any souvenirs. Gil was pulling on my skirt and whining about something he wanted to stop and look at. I turned around to grab him to hurry him up and my arm connected with his nose. Blood spurted out. He reached for his nose. When he pulled his hand away and spotted the blood he started jumping from foot to foot and began to howl. Everyone within hearing distance turned around to see what was going on. I tried to pretend that blood pouring from my kid’s nose was a perfectly normal happening. Randy and both Johns no longer knew us and quickly walked in the other direction. Paul stared at his brother, puckered up and started to bawl because Gil was bleeding. Several women turned and started toward us. I couldn't tell by their expressions if they wanted to help him or hurt me. Bill cut them off and hastily explained that it wasn't serious and we weren't trying to kill the kid regardless of how loud he was shrieking. He managed to convince everyone that Gil really was okay and we beat a hasty retreat out of the market. The only things we had purchased were the bags to put our purchases in.
On the way back to the campground we stopped at a street vendor to buy John’s favorite, jicama. As we pulled over to stop his last customers, two older women, were just walking away. They were wearing brightly colored dresses, one pink the other yellow. Below their dresses were black stockings and “old lady” black shoes. Around their shoulders and over their heads were black knit shawls. Both carried bags with their purchases. Their shopping over it was now time to go home and prepare dinner. The vendor was an old man wearing a straw hat, long sleeved shirt and jeans. The jicama was laid out on a table. After a few minutes of bargaining, we had two big jicamas and he had more pesos
Back at camp John cut the jicama into slices and put the pieces to soak in vinegar. Before the day ended he had eaten every bit of it (he made sure no one else got any!) and he had a well-deserved bellyache.
John Mc got busy cleaning out the “beery” basement compartment. Everything that was stored in there had to taken out and washed. Luckily it was just tools and spare parts. He and Randy decided to keep the unbroken bottles, but they put them, case and all into a garbage bag and moved them to a middle compartment where hopefully they wouldn’t bounce so much.
Randy unloaded his motorcycle from the trailer and spent the rest of the daylight hours cleaning and polishing it. Paul and Gil talked us into letting them take their bikes down. They were gone until dark, riding around camp, stopping to talk to everyone who would talk to them.
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