Guanajuato, Guanajuato, MX: August 27-30
As my CS host drove me from the bus station to his apartment, I stared out the window all wide-eyed and probably drooling. Although I was a bit drunk off the relative ease at which I could converse in Spanish with Pedro (compared to the lightning-speed conversations I left in Guadalajara) and the natural rush of soaking in a new place, Guanjuato had me at "hola".
It might have been the windy (as in unwind not the wind) uneven streets and alleys that snake around equally haphazardly-positioned houses and bridges, or the modestly-sized homes painted with loud, immodest colors that recklessly combine Spanish colonial architecture with makeshift construction. It might have been the herbs and flowers that spill from iron-fenced balconies or the two old men in cowboy hats laughing and sitting on an older bench tuning their guitars to the notes emitted by the other, careless of the fact that both guitars were missing a considerable number of strings. It might as well have also been the noticeable bohemian aura (but not an exclusive one) that pervades the numerous shady plazas and cafes that give shelter and damn good hot chocolate to the large student population(a few of which I had the pleasure of meeting and drinking with). Blanketing the steep hillsides of what used to be gold and silver mines (which provided the lucrative impetus for populating the area), GTO succeeded in winning me over.
So it only makes sense that when I arrive to what may easily be one of the most picturesque (pun intended!) destinations in Mexico, my camera battery quits and I'm left out in the cold until Annie saves the day in Mexico City. A blessing in disguise? That some benevolent universal force has purposefully stripped me of this technological intermediary, this blockade of gratifying, sensual (as in of the senses, not sexual) experience? That now I have no choice but to have intimate moments with my immediate surroundings without the nagging whim to flash and record. This could be the brightside...No camera means no chance of excessive picture-taking, which means no possibility of indirectly saying: "This moment is less interesting than the story I will tell about it later" (as a critic of social networking sites and the superficial, narcissistic cyberculture they promote once put it). Let's say yes. That's what it is- a blessing in disguise. Especially here in this pretty place, the story told by my post-moment words and photos couldn't do any justice to articulating how at home I feel and felt. Surely I'll be back in Guanajuato again...with battery charger in tow.
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