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| authentically annoyed carb mechanic |
I watched a movie about Americans finding "home" in Mexico. I pondered that topic in dreamy Oggy fashion and decided the joy of extended childhood, of freedom to be authentic, of exploring creative opportunities, is what I found when I moved into the van. The geographic location is more a quest for a climate in which I can live in the van. But I want electricity for the keyboard and my typewriter so living in the van isn't a long term goal. But owning the van and traveling in the van is like when I was a teenager and dressed up in black Ninja outfit and ran around the neighborhood, doing drop knee rolls in the parks after midnight. It's amusing.
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| That's right, all the flag decorations in Paracho are shaped like guitars. Misty and cool like paradise. I slept until the entire town assembled outside my van and started shooting fireworks in honor of the dead and a marching band played odd tempo tunes. My dreams were interrupted by life |
Tzintzuntzan is a place I can't pronounce. How many
towns have three Z's in the name? It means
Hummingbird in an ancient
language, but I didn't see any. When I ran out of light I camped by the
P'urhepechan pyramids. There was also a small circus in town that I
suspected involved sacrificed or abused animals so I skipped it. I'm learning that
not
every pyramid relic is Mayan or Aztec so I will try to give credit to the
proper extinct Indigenous people. There were hundreds before Senor
Cortez decided to lay waste to 5000 years of culture in pursuit of gold.
