Llegamos. Early return due to Talea´s re-accuring bout with the turistas. I knew she wasn´t herself when she looked at the Cero de Bufa like it was a plate of cold brussel sprouts.
Talea is part monkey. She scales anything. She managed to figure out that she can shim up the doorway to our family room. She climbs me like a jungle gym. So when she looked at the Bufa without the jaw-dropping, eye-widening, “conquer!” attitude expected from Talea of the Apes, we knew we´d better get back to town and get some Tylenol. After breakfast this morning we took the first Omnibus back to Durango.
Zacatecas is like the product of a marriage between rugged Durango and beautiful, curvy San Francisco. I had my best cup of instant coffee there. I don´t know if it was so much the coffee as the teeth-chattering cold making even a warm cup of powdered coffee taste great. Like Durango, and San Miguel, and most of the towns along this cordillera, Zacatecas is a defunct mining town. It lingers on by peddling light tourism, light industry, and by the incredible resourcefulness of the locals, who we find tranquil, hardworking, and extremely polite.
Say Zacatecas 30 times real fast,
Pepino “Usted parece a Clint Eastwood, sabe?” Suave