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Published: February 26th 2010
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Monday, February 22, we took the second class bus from Zirahuen into Patzcuaro, where we had visited the market the day before. The great thing about these buses is that they stop all along the way, and you get some pretty good local flavor. Chickens roasted on spits, for instance, and giant crucifixes. (Could these be yard art? We're just not sure.)
The mission of Patzcuaro: find a dentist. You see, last week, while in Mazatlan, Stefan plugged in the multi-plug AND the batter charger above my head in the bed. Then he gets into bed and pulls the whole thing down onto my hea.d. (His version is slightly different, but he lies.) I get this GIANT goose-egg on my head and an ensuing headache that made me want to stick my head in a big bucket of jello, or some similar squishy substance. The result: I clench my teeth all night. At breakfast, while enjoying my muy fantastico tortilla con avocado, I bite something hard. What the hell? There's nothing hard supposed to be in here. I spit it out and what do I find? My fucking tooth. Or part of my tooth. Right there in my juevos. But
did I yell? No. I informed the German we needed la dentista. So...as fate would have it Patzcuaro is the mecca of dentistas. No shit. There are dentists practically on every corner. On Sunday, while at the market, we found a dentista who was open seven days a week AND she specialized in kids. Now this is the dentist for me. (How fast can you say nitrous?).
So Monday I go to the dentist and she's fantastico, almost as fantastico as the price...500 pesos for the whole thing. Three days of work; one to remove the old filling and drill out decay from under it (I maintain it's STILL the German's fault, but I'm glad to get rotten crap out of my mouth...phew!), two to make the mold, and day three to put the crown on. That's 50 bucks US. And she's totally gentle and really kinda cute when she says "Escupe" (spit). If you need some dental work and a beautiful place to vacation and buy all kinds of local artisanal stuff, Patzcuaro is the place.
Patzcauro is on a huge lake that has three islands in the middle. It's rumored that the people on the islands
and still really pure blood natives and that they don't speak Spanish. We took one of the boats over, though, and found everyone we met to speak Spanish. They weave these amazing wraps and do these unbelievable embroidered ensembles. We journeyed to the island because we wanted to climb to the top of the giant statue. We wandered around the small island first, checking out the boats and the traditional mariposa fishing nets. Some little punk outside the school actually tried to beg from me by saying, "Hey! Old Lady!" Guess what I said back.
But then we walk on and what do we see? A kid carrying a bag on his back that weighs as much as he does. He's not the only one. We see a group of little girls all filling sacks of sand and carrying them up this unbelievably steep hill. So I'd like to take this opportunity to dispell the rumors that Mexicans are lazy. Most all that we see work incredibly long hours, seven days a week. But alas, the tourist towns have their beggars. Some old toothless guy came up to us on the plaza, while we were drinking coffee. Stefan dug
around and pulled out a peso and a 50 cent piece or so. The guy threw it back at him and walked off. We still haven't figured that one out.
All in all, the town is super charming and has a wonderful energy to it. The revolution square, where Gertrudis Bocanegra was shot for her part in the revolution, but not before she drew people from their hiding to move them to the plight of the revolution. The large basilica and main square in town is in honor of Don Vasco de Quiroga, who's major accomplishment, we think, was teaching the locals how to be self-sufficient by trades, and how to support themselves on their own land. The trades live on in all of the surrounding pueblos. The artists are pass on their trades for copper, furniture making, weaving, and such. Good stuff.
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