Okay, so I wake up this morning in Tlaquepaque in the state of Jalisco, planning to have a look around and then head west to Colima (in the small state of Colima) to look at their pre-Columbian pottery. But it´s palm Sunday and there´s just not much to see in Tlaquepaque except the church goers and the women making palm leaf decorations outside the churches. I think to myself, ´¨It´s probably going to be much the same in Colima, and tomorrow´s Monday so the museum I want to see there will be closed in all likelihood. I really should have planned this trip better. Maybe I should just head back into the city center to see the symphonic performance at the Teatro Degollado this evening. Then my taxi driver who´s taking me to the new terminal in Tonola where I´m supposed to catch the bus to Colima keeps talking about how beautiful it is in Manzanillo, just one hour beyond Colima on the Pacific coast., four hours in all. And I think, maybe a couple days at the beach is what I need. I can do the reading and thinking I´ve been wanting to do there... When I get to the terminal I ask a woman how I can get directory assistance for Manzanillo and call the hotel the driver mentioned. They´re full, but they commend another which has a room available. I go to the ticket window and ask when the next bus is to Manzanillo-- fifteen minutes, great. The only seat they have left is on the aisle in the last row. I recall that that´s just outside the bathroom at the back of the bus, but this is ¨Primera Plus,¨ shouldn´t be a problem.

We´re just leaving the station, easing our hulk over some speed bumps which is causing us to rock a bit, like on a ship at anchor, and I´m feeling rather satisfied with myself for being able to change my itinerary on a whim, when Coyote enters, stage center. A small plump boy, about nine years old, comes hurtling toward the back of the bus, a look of desperation on his face. Another bump, he staggers, his terrified eyes lock onto mine, and he spews, projectile vommiting a bright pink liquid into my lap, drenching me from shoulder to knee. He gasps in some air, heaves himself through the door and goes on chundering noisily. My seatmates all look at me astonished at my misfortune and half-embarrassed that I alone got it. For a moment I just sit there, not knowing what to do. The woman next to me says there´s a sink through the door which there is, but there are, alas, no paper towels. The hunky youth across the aisle from me, rips off a few of the little cloths that are meant to save the seats from being stained by hair oil and hands them to me. I do my best to clean myself off, rinsing off the cloths in the sink and reusing them to sponge off first my clothes and then the seat and then the floor. The boy goes on retching in the toilet all the while.

When I finally return to my seat I´m thoroughly wet from all the sponging, but fairly clean after all, if a bit smelly. The hunky youth points to my rucksack. ¨Do you have another shirt in there,¨ he asks (in Spanish). I don´t. All my clothes are in the luggage compartments below. So he pulls off his T-shirt, revealing muscles and tattoos along with a white tank top, and gives it to me. I strip off the wet T-shirt I was wearing and put on his dry one. ¨Muy amable,¨ I say, and he gives me a big smile. The ice has definitely been broken and we talk and joke quite a bit along the way. Fortunately I´ve had a larger than usual bite of Sushe cookie before boarding, so nothing´s going to spoil my day. He gets off the bus in Colima, not even asking me for his shirt back, and I don´t at first notice that he´s gone. (There´s an Easter-themed Jesus movie on the monitors.) When i jump off the bus to return his shirt to him he seems almost disappointed.

Haven´t sorted out what I think of Manzanillo yet-- a sprawl of a beach town with a population of about 150,0000. It reminds me of Miami Beach at its lowest ebb. More later...

I've heard that Tlaquepaque, a town of artesans now incorporated within the sprawl of greater Guadalajara, is a tourist magnet, and there are apparently a lot of tourists here, but not gringos. Tonight it seems I'm the only gringo in town. My cousin gave me the name of "a neat little bed and breakfast run by some very cool gay guys" here, but they were booked out. They suggested a couple of other places, only one of which had a room available so I booked here at Quinta don Jose. Turns out to be way too upscale for me, costing more than double what I usually would spend. (I hate paying for a color TV I never turn on.) But no worries, I'm here for only one night en route to Colima which is about half way to the Pacific coast. I'll get a bus (de primera plus) midday tomorrow, Sunday, which should take about three hours. But first I'll go to the cathedral here in Tlaquepaque to see how they're going to kick off Semana Santa-- the week before Easter that's a big deal throughout much of Latin America.

Pre-Columbian ceramics from Colima are what first got me interested in making sculpture. Sophisticated, humorous, emotionally expressive, they're my favorite of all the world's ceramic creations with which I'm familiar. I've been taking lots of photos in museums here so I can show you what they're like when I get home.

The city of Guadalajara proper-- I'm speaking now of the old historic center-- has a lot going for it, to be sure: a pleasant climate, reasonable prices, few tourists, good museums, an exceptionally beautiful concert hall (Teatro Degollado).... I could go on, but I think you'd have to be a heavy smoker to be entirely charmed by Guadalajara. It's choked with exhaust and as if that's not enough people smoke absolutely everywhere. Also, it's fairly dirty, is largely in a state of disrepair and is difficult to find one's way around. More later...

Only have a moment so I´ll be brief.
Had a great time in SAN MARCOS on lake Atitlan, doing yoga everyday, eating good vegetarian food, breathing the sweet air. On my last night I was taken by a Rainbow sister to a Mayan ceremony to activate a piece of land as a ritual site-- it went on for about seven hours.
From there I went north to the rainforest and the Mayan ruins at TIKAL-- fabulous. Loved every minute of wandering in the rainforest, birdwatching, making notes on the plant communities, watching the spider monkeys playing in the treetops, listening to the howler monkeys frightening sounds (they used them for the dinosaur in Jurrassic Park.)
Tomorrow I´ll fly on to Mexico to see the sights of Guadalajara. Will keep you posted.
BLESSINGS,
W