Morelia and Taxco

I took a day trip to Taxco, a cute town on a hill with steep circular streets. It is some sort of VW nirvana, the little beetles swarmed everywhere across the narrow streets.

Lest the crazy taxi give a false impression, it is probably appropriate to discuss Mexican driving. Roads are clogged with cars, the only indicator is the horn, and generally there is total chaos without any discernible rules for right-of-way etc. However it mostly works because drivers are mostly patient and generous, as well as foolhardy (if that makes sense). I´ve seen many near-incidents which back home would´ve ended with someone jumping out of their car waving a wheel-jack, but they pass without a murmur here. For all the madness, maybe our over-aggressive kiwi driving could learn something.

Jaywalking has been elevated to an artform too. Many s the time I´ve been left stranded for minutes as children and old women calmly (and safely) stroll across six lanes. I thought I was no beginner at this from my Wellington experience, but I felt kinda embarrassed for my inability, sorta like I was shooting hoops next to Michael Jordan.

Taxco is a former Silver time, so I did the natural thing and totally failed to purchase a single item of silver - or even enter a silver merchant. It is a quaint town, nice Cathedral on the hill filled with enough gold gilt to....make a big pile of gilt (my metaphor well is dry; though I guess that is itself a metaphor; damn).

I stayed a couple of nights in Morelia, and can report the centre of town is a wonderfully-preserved old spanishy town, with countless historic buildings, churchs etc, and a sturdy aqueduct. I lucked into arriving on a Sunday which seemed to be partytime in the square, performers everywhere. There were several performers (excluding the bog-standard buskers), including:

·A couple of talented music groups one featuring a stunning violinist.

·A cool family masked broken-sandal-tapdancing group backed by a trio, talented enough players that the kids on guitar and bass swapped half way through.

·A Hare Krishna group, who stood out because not a one had shaved their hair. Come to think of it, Mexican guys all seem to be well-coiffured and presented at all times. Maybe the stares I get aren`t so much for the gringo a head taller than everyone, as for the guy in shorts and old t-shirt with the untroubled hairstyle. I did consider cutting my hair on the fan in my room that night (all it would need is me standing on tiptoe), but elected against it.

·Some sort of modern dance school exhibition, some of whom I thought extremely brave to be showing their stuff in public. (There was an odd moment when someone walked in the middle of the dance, stared and turned slowly around as dancers flew past for a couple of minutes, and then walked out. I`m still debating whether it was performance art or a bystander who wanted to get amongst it).

·A screen running a collection of "horrors of Morelia" short films, at least a couple of which appeared to combine homemade footage with bits of old b&w horrors - I saw one of those old english actors, Peter Cushing or someone like him, if I`m not mistaked. Full marks for ingenuity.

Morelia was cool , and proved a good choice for the only trip outside Mex City I`ll make. It is named for Morelos, a revolutinary hero from the early 19th century, who seems to be the only significant person in Mexico's whole bloody history who has an untarnished reputation. He pushed for suffrage and land reform etc, so naturally he met the standard fate of all idealist populists - executed in 1815.