While we were out there I burnt myself.

Done-

I think the last time I played with a Betty Crocker easy bake oven I burned my finger on that really insanely hot light bulb. After cussing and crying I took the thing out in the back yard and shot it a million times with my BB gun. Now that’s a toy!

Lots of fun with “fire arms” -that’s what they call them even though they use air…still I made a mess of a ton of stuff over the years with that fire arm. I even think I almost shot my eye out when I taped the target to the foundation of my house. Come to think of it, having to tape it instead of pining it should have been my first clue as to concrete’s resiliance to small projectiles. Missed my eye but having the damn thing paritally stuck in your forehead hurts just as bad as having your eye shot out -I’m pretty sure.

Back to the girl thing. I know that I will have a total blast with one of each, it will just be a transition for me to stop with all the rough-housing that Rowan and I do with a new baby girl around and start up the tea party time with all the stuffed animals (and I have to remember that we have to name them all).

I’ve embraced the early morning activities and I think that I love cartoons more than Rowan does but it is going to be super-ass tough to get into the dolls and little girl music. None-the-less I will be a very proud and happy daddy.

Forget the image of Cher for a second and concentrate on the fact that this city had a massive number of holy places (John even found a Methodist church way up in the hills -funny it was next to the mummy museum. I wonder if pickin’s were slim in those days) with the population of Round Rock and Pflugerville combined. By the way, I just made that statistic up but it seems to work since I’ve been there and you haven’t.

It is my understanding that the city in general has not changed in almost 200 years -meaning no new buildings. The simple fact that this city is an international treasure is point 1 to go there but more than that it is only a short 2.5 hour plane trip from Dallas and another 45 minute cab ride to the city center of another country. How awesome is that?! You can hardly get out of Texas in that time frame and you still have to deal with crappy border states that speak whatever they speak.

Well, back to Guanajuato. The first day that we got there we went straight to the Hotel Luna, checked in, and promptly visited the bar/ restaurant. This was a funny place since it was meeting point central for all the groups as well as the place that happened to be tipped the best in town by Mr. John Engler. John ended up personifying an open wallet once the vacation vibe got in his veins. “Hey Marc I think I just let that waiter a $15 tip for coffee.”

It was easy to spend more than you thought since the exchage rate was 10 to 1 american but you feel challenged when you have to move the decimal over one digit while thinking in Spanish even though math is universal. Isn’t there a joke concerning Chinese algebra and Barry White…? Never mind. I love John for the simple fact that he is absolutely the man when it comes to buying you more drinks. Need them or not he is there with what you don’t need at 1 AM. He bought me a shot of Jake Daniels at a bar after drinking that “suck all the energy and life out of you mexican beer” AND it was bed time for Bonzo (me).

You couldn’t ask for a better traveling companion in John, even if you think that he is sleeping and not paying attention to you it’s actually the fact that John’s eyes get smaller when the sun and beer go down.

Anyway enough about “John Engler the wonderful, beer buying-overspending-good traveling, sleeping till noon man on a mexican fun mission .” We spent a lot of time just running around the city, weaving in and out of the the small narrow streets and stopping at the wonderful eateries.

One place in particular, Tasca dela Paz, was just off the main plaza in the city center next to the main cathedral. The staff was awesome and one man in particular, Noah was exceptional with his service, knowledge of the menu as well as speaking pretty fluent english. The next best meal in town was right next door at an Italian/Mexican place that made the best guacamole. If you were looking for great street food the vendors were everywhere selling cups of fresh fruit juice - fried potato chips. They even had a Domino’s Pizza in the city center.

Just one more thought on the food there. If you get the chance to wake up early on just about any day of the week except Sunday make your way to the University or the Main Theater and go east through town till you get to a small plaza with a large fountain in the middle of the street. There you can get a great cup of coffee at Van Gogh’s coffee shop and fresh made tortillas with meat and beans all made by this little old man on the side of the street. I knew it had to be good if the line was long and made up of all locals -I ate for 2 dollars (or 20 pesos).

That’s it on the food. I’ll talk photograph and sites next.

The weekend was supposed to be all about a wedding that we were going to crash but it ended up being a personal trip to reflect on your own mental health, insecurities, and the fact that you really did pay more attention to you spanish teacher than your grade reflected. I would love to re-take that spanish verbal exam that I failed. Boy would I have something to say now. I don’t really think that a formal education in spanish is the way to go unless you feel like abusing your head and wallet by not absorbing it from behind the desk. I feel like I did just fine with a one-sided conversation where I listened and learned. In fact, whenever I wanted something I was able to get it without too much trouble except for that time when I gave the poor old street man 10 pesos to let me take his photo and he walked away -I got revenge on his soul when I stole it later that night on the way to drink more Victoria cerveza at one of our many reoccuring night spots.

Speaking of beer, I have met my new love in the frosted barley industry- Victoria cerveza has done to me what only oxygen could provide. Not to mention the sweet price this street swill afforded me. This kind beer invited me into its world, took me by the hand thoughout all the understandings as well and those mis-understood. We touched lips almost all day long and never had one sour misunderstanding, I knew my place and it knew its place.

As far as the sites and sounds of the city, I spent most of my time looking at the finer details through a camera lens that made everything upside down and reversed left to right. What I can tell you is that I now have more images to decorate my home and the homes of anyone else who wants to buy some prints -wink, wink, nudge, nudge (more info to follow).

First of all the churches were something out of Europe but with a Mexican flare. It was my understanding that there were a total of 21 churches in the city and at least 7 of those I would consider calling a cathedral because of the size and shape of the buildings. The 5 that I went into were all Spanish classical with some hints of late high gothic in the alters. Most all were made out of soft sand and lime stone that stains through the years due to pollution and other elements like fires. What amazed me most of all was the number of these large churches and their supporting communities.

The single most interesting thing inside the churches was the fact that the Mexican people have a fascination with Jesus looking in severe pain- blood all over the body but with exceptionally beautiful hair - a long flowiing wig that Cher could have worn during that video where she straddles that large gun on some US Navy battleship. They even dress Christ according to the time of the year as well as all the religious holidays…so like on easter sunday they put bunny ears on his wig and a lucky rabbits foot on his wrist nail.

I have so much to say so I’m going to break up my thoughts throughout the days and start posting photos ASAP

If I learned one thing on this trip that would have to be wake up at the crack of dawn, get your shots out of the way when all the people are still sleeping and be sure to talk to as many strangers as possible. The people are incredible, the food is great unless you order italian in spanish and most importantly it is your responsibility that the culture remain untainted by your expectations, desires, accustoms.

For 22 stink’n bucks a person -children under 4 free, you get to walk around a bunch of stuff and rides (that you have to pay extra for) and possibly the coolest 4 story playscape that was ever constructed. This playscape is not only ultra neato but it most surely has to harness the largest supply of kid germs on the planet -in fact I smelled the smell of a messy diaper so often I thought it could have been me or at least my travel companions.

You’d think that in the wake of the first attempt back into space since the burn up of shuttle 4 years ago that they would have put on some kinda show with guys in tight suits, little plastic helmets and a jet pack strapped to their backs…did I say guys??? I meant fine space women -handing out free beer tickets and turkey legs wrapped in bacon begging for you to come see the space flight show-supposed to make you feel like you’re really there and sure to knock your socks off… What ever! The whole thing lasted 15 minutes and ended with a 15 yr old kid who looks like the asshole sports agent from Jerry McGuire talking to you about something he never witnessed but learned from the brochures at the front of the building. My 5yr old nephew told my dad that he was bored so we went back to the play scape, crashed a couple of space shuttles in the simulator, docked some fake cargo and walked through a mock up of the last failure our space agency had -space lab and ate a $6 peanut butter and jelly space sandwich.

Well, all in all we got to see nothing of the actual space center and learned nothing. I’d say that if you really wanted to visit a space program then your best bet would be to befriend Lance from the Back Street Boys or whichever gay boy band and see if you could piggy back on his next Rusky space flight as a modern day version of Leica the space dog.

…Tangent. sorry

Anyhow, I found what I was looking for, a kite, and not just your ordinary every day colorful kite with a tail of tied together scraps of cloth but a ultra plastic Looney Tunes Tasmainian Devil with big teeth and a whirl-wind winding around from one edge to the other. This was going to be Rowan’s first kite and it WAS the cat’s meow. I started to get kinda emotional because this was going to be the first event that I was going to have with my son and hopefully he would some how have a feeling of remembrance when he gets older.

I rushed home and quickly put it together with the hope that the wind would still be whistling through Pville at Nascar speeds - they were!

Hurry Cyndi!

Gather all the dog’s walking gear, prepare Rowan for the coolest thing he’d ever done, bring extra diapers just in case it was too cool for him, grab a beer, and head to the park. We took our time getting there because I wanted the electricity in the air to build up for our big day. We picked the best spot in the whole park and unleashed the Taz on the wind. For a while Rowan was a little apprehensive probably because of the noise and the awesome way he saw good’ol dad harness the wind with his mighty kite.

What happened next was not as cool -He got bored… and talked mommy into going to the swingset instead.

Oh well, I’ll sit here for awhile and fly the kite like a kid again.

Higher, Higher, Higher…the F*#@ing string broke! I ran and lunged for the remainder of the string -No dice. The damn thing went ape-shit in our 100 mph wind. I lost it for good- The feeling too.

I wasn’t quite as crushed as I thought I’d be if anything were to go wrong with our big day but it still sucked.

The way I see it now - Screw flying kites …it’s not worth the money!

I spent the past 7 hours posting images to this website then decided to redo the whole thing -got fed up with that so I’m tring out my hand at scribing mindless thoughts that have nothing more to do with my time than the whole “Hurling episode” that Josh and I came up with on Friday.

I’ll set the scene for you:

Picture yourself with nothing better to do than drink frozens (no salt please) in a one car garage with 20 sweaty people during a freak ice chunking storm (in Texas no less) and the only thing to talk about is the difference between hurling and curling. The simple fact that no one knew what either sporting event consisted of was beside the point. We, myself and Josh, created an all together new sport for the handy cap. I mean what difference did it make in how you get the big stone from one end of the ice path to the other.

We had the whole thing figured out too except I forgot the details when Elise decided it would be a great idea to slip into something more comfortable…waders meant for a 7 foot tall rugby player with nice teeth and fresh breath.

Anyhow, this night was super and I’m glad to have the chance to hang out with a bunch of friends that I haven’t seen in a while.

check out the photos in the photo area