Mi Familia, Mi Viaje, y Mi Tatuaje

A lot has happened since our last installment, so once again I'll break it down into sections.

MOM AND AUNTIE SAL IN SAN MIGUEL

Arrival day didn't quite go as planned, but it wasn't a complete failure. After a flight delay, Mom and Sally didn't reach San Miguel until 11:30 at night. On my way to the bus station to meet them, a dog I pass everyday snuck up behind me and bit my leg. Chances are he is rabid, but fortunately he bit my calf, which probably did more damage to his teeth than to my skin. This turned out to be a false omen as the rest of the trip went smoothly. They helped out in the baby room at the daycare for a couple days, and all other time was spent exploring the city. They treated me to meals in restaurants, which I would otherwise never have, some other treats, and of course, their company. Oh yeah and a tattoo. I've been talking big about getting a tattoo for around five years now, and the deed is finally done. My loving mother wanted to treat me to a souvenir, and we thought a little piece of body art might be a memorable one, considering it's permanent. We stumbled across the tattoo parlor on accident after finding nothing in the phone book or on the internet. Then we looked at hundreds of pictures (since I didn't have anything in mind), and after leaving, thinking, and coming back, I landed on some symbol that supposedly means "water," though could very well be part of some made-up tattoo language. It's pretty small... nothing too crazy... and it's right where my chest meets my shoulder. I don't exactly know how to describe it, but I'll try. There is what looks like an elongated, wavy water drop a little over two inches long, with two smaller but elongated drops running parallel on either side of it, making five "water drops" all together. They're colored two shades of blue and a little bit of white to make them look like water. It has no profound meaning whatsoever, though I suppose I do like water. I simply liked how the lines looked together and liked the tattoo artist's idea of where to put it and how to color it. It's pretty much just a few blue slashes above my armpit... but I like it. Mom and Sally stayed to watch but couldn't be convinced to get their own. Thanks, Mom!

ANGANGUEO

On Saturday we hired a driver to take us to the quaint town of Angangueo. Angangueo had more stores than people, so naturally there were a lot of closed doors. The center of town consisted of a church, another church, and the small space between the churches. The only tourism draw of the town is its proximity to the famous monarch butterfly reserves. Every November, somewhere near 100 million monarch butterflies migrate to the region, probably to make butterfly babies or something. After their vigorous (or however they do it) mating, like humans, they hibernate. Since for some scientifically inexplicable reason winter is coming later this year, so only a third of the butterflies had arrived by the time we did. It was still an impressive site, and the legends of butterflies clumped together so densely that they bend tree branches turned out to be entirely true. At night, with nothing much else to do, we froze. So Sally treated us to our choice of wool accessories from a street-side stand, and we ordered hot chocolate back at the hotel. I wore a hat, a scarf, all my clothes, and shared a bed, and still woke up many times throughout the night. The next morning we rushed off to the nearby city of Zitacuaro to send half our group off to Mexico City and the other half to bustling Morelia. The departure was Band-Aid-esque and just like that it was back to just me and Amanda.

MORELIA

Despite the sad farewell, the three-hour bus ride to Morelia was actually quite pleasant. You know how you'll be on a road trip, or staring at a window, or doing anything else where you have time to think, and a song will come on the radio that fits the situation so perfectly that it feels like you're in a movie scene? That's exactly what happened on the bus as a solo mariachi got up in the middle and played some traditional Mexican music as I gazed out over the choppy hills of beige corn fields pocked with bunches of green cacti or other shrubs, leaning fence posts, and piles of brick crumbs from wall sections (abandoned efforts to build houses) being slovenly chewed up by time and a constricting budget. The city of Morelia was impressive. Not extraordinarily unique, but impressive nonetheless. For one thing, the trash cans on the street had garbage bags in them. Other than that, it's basically a big city with some historical significance and a cool center of town with lots of old buildings. There are plenty of cities like that in the world, and they're always fun to see. We tried the local delicacy: a cup filled with chopped fruit and onions, salt, cheese, chili, and filled about halfway with orange juice. It had the familiar appearance of fresh vomit, but tasted just the opposite. We checked out a free natural history museum in one of the city parks and marvelled at the jars filled with deformed fetuses. Our walking would have been completely aimless, which is of course fine, if Amanda hadn't wanted to stop in every church in town. I was planning to try my hand at Couchsurfing in Morelia but completely forgot, so we ended up paying more than we had hoped for a hostel that had run out of dorm beds for men. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise. We got to watch Bewitched AND Fun With Dick and Jane on our room's TV!

PATZCUARO

Patzcuaro is a neat little town just down the highway from Morelia. They had some old looking buildings as well, but the main draw seems to be the lake. Patzcuaro Lake is fairly big as far as lakes go, and extremely dirty as far as dirty things go. They're local treat is a plate or cup full of tiny little fish fried whole and covered with chili powder and lime (like everything else in Mexico). I didn't get to try any because I was told to not eat fish or pork for a week after getting tatted up due to some toxins in those particular meats. Anyway, in the lake are a few islands, all tiny, but mostly inhabited. The one Amanda and I went to looked more like a floating pile of houses than an island. Stores, houses, restaurants, and whatever else covered every square inch of ground except for the winding path that weaved between them. We made it to the top of the house-mound and back down just in time to head back to Morelia for our bus ride home. That bus ride wasn't horrible, but it didn't go by as quickly as the one there. We watched The Gospel and The Ringer in Spanish, and 10 or 15 minutes of some movie in English before arriving in San Miguel, where I ate some tacos from my taco spot and passed out.

BERG'S EYE VIEW

-Towns with colleges are generally cooler than towns without colleges.

-There is a "public notary" on nearly every block of Mexico.

-Everyone in Mexico who owns a store is an "artisan"

-Everyone gives the "ehh, kiiinnnda" look when asked if tattoos hurt. Obviously they hurt, they're just not the most painful things in the world. Furthermore, tattoos are only as big of a deal as you choose to make them.

-I have a better mom and aunt than anyone else in the world except for Tyler and Tim, who are both tied with me.

-After having a taste of my sweet life at home, I know I'll be ready to be back in Seattle when my trip is over. I miss you all a lot and am looking forward to my return, but I still have a lot of things to do here before I'm ready... like kick it with Rt.