Tepic - Winter Wonderland

Tepic is the capital of Nayarit, the state in which we live, and is located about 1000 meters above sea level, with 500,000 residents. Our Spanish teacher Miguel, also known as our only Mexican friend, lives there with his family during the weekend. The teachers here are assigned to schools and live in a house with the other teachers, because the majority are from Tepic which houses the university. So on weekdays we hitch a ride to Punta Mita, where Miguel does special education with the non-profit PEACE. And last weekend we decided to explore this veritable Winter Wonderland.
Nayarit is an agricultural state, and we got a true taste of it with fields of sugar cane and endless orchards of avocadoes backed by rolling mountains and a roiling stomach. Tepic is not exactly a tourist destination, and we were fairly warned that there is 'nothing to do there'. We did not meet or see a single gringo on the entire trip. Sascha lugged the tent and blankets in his monster backpack, but once there, no one seemed to know where a good place to camp was, especiall that was accessible. So we stayed in a hotel close to the plaza and ventured out the first evening to find half the citizens in the city gathered there. We ate out and then wandered into the cathedral, where there just happened to be a wedding commencing with extremely poor timing, as the Christmas music and loudspeaker narrative poured in the open doors. And then the parade started, in all its commercialized glory, starring any animated film character you can think of. They had Peter Pan, Ciderella, the Flintsones, the Incredibles, the Backyardigans, Sesame Street, Batman, several Santa Clauses and countless more, each trailed by several dozen girls, aged 11-14 in appropriate costume. After the parade we went to a tiny cake shop where I bought a tiny cake from a stunningly gorgeous woman, and then went out to eat a second time.
Miguel scheduled a bus tour for us in the morning, and accompanied us with his wife and darling four-year old daughter, Paula. The tour traveled to four old colonial style haciendas, with trees hundreds of years old, and an orangeria (as Sascha would say), meaning a wonderful orchard full of cross-bred citrus trees. The whole property was chocked full of edible plants, which we all picked at all our leisure and enjoyed thoroughly. Another had been turned into a school, where they found indigenous artifacts and gold hidden in the walls. The last hacienda we visited was at some point used or owned by the Masonics, with symbols scratched into the stone. It was a textile factory from 1841 until 1985, making denim for the American market. The factory utilized child labor. The machines, both antique and newer, were all still there, along with spools of thread. The architecture of the building was fascinating, there were defense turrets in several locations where people with guns shot at marauders in the streets.
We went to a huge new shopping mall afterwards with Miguel y familia, much nicer than any mall I have been to in the U.S., and afterwards to a a huge park where we rode a tiny train. The park came equipped with a zoo, carnival rides, endless playsets and courts, and most unusual of all: an outdoor ice-skating rink. You may think the people of Mexico would not be highly skilled ice skaters, and you would be right, but there were a few with talent, and it was very amusing to watch.
Live music at a nearby bar concluded our evening with style, the mandatory nightly Mexican television, a special treat offered only by the hotel.
Miguel informed us that Mass was celebrated at the hour, and he would try to meet us at nine. Awakening at 8:50, I rushed over to sit in the cathedral for one hour before mass actually started, at which hour both Miguel and Sascha gamboled in. We somehow missed Miguel afterwards, and headed over to a nice restaurant for breakfast, and while Sascha finished I ravaged the town for some Christmas presents.
We caught the bus back to Bucerias where each of us had a conversation with an English-speaking Mexican. The man Sascha spoke to had immigrated to the U.S. as a baby and lived there thirty years, went to college, spent 9 years in the state penitentiary, and was finally deported to Mexico, a place he couldn't even remember. He is a vendor, coming on to the buses and selling snacks, and has no intention of going back to the U.S.
I bought a giant sparkler and called it a day.

There comes a point in every blog where the writer must admit to losing their camera. Today is my day. Just use your imagination.