MOTHER AND CHILD SURVIVE ON GRASS

SIERRA GORDA, MEXICO: MARCH 7
Trees shade the road as it turns and twists down through the forest. Two dark coated folk, mother and daughter, graze a small patch of almost invisible grass. Pines give way to broad leaf. I halt for a comfort break and listen to a stream splashing over rocks. I have ridden from near desert the west side of the sierra up into the chill of a pine cloud forest and am now, midway through the sierra, descending into watered valleys. These continual changes are the fascination of Mexico.

UNION - THE MIRACLE OF MEXICO

SIERRA GORDA, MEXICO: MARCH 7
I ride in thick pine forest. Trees hide the fearsome falls. The road crosses the final pass at an altitude of nearly eight thousand feet.
I try to imagine communication prior to construction of the road. Paving was completed in 1968. And the dirt road? I ask. No one knows. I must search out an oldy of my age.
The dirt road would have been impassable in the rains. Prior to the dirt road, a mule trail existed - a ten day trek from Jalpan to Queretaro. Imagine attempting to govern a country where Provinces were so cut off one from another and from the capital; and even Provinces were carved apart by sierra and river. The Miracle of Mexico is its survival (though, as Mexicans attest, a huge swathe of the United States was Mexican)

CHURCHES BEAT PYRAMIDS

saint paul's, cadereyta

TO THE SIERRA GORDA, MEXICO: MARCH 7
Pyramids don't do it for me. Churches do. Five Franciscan missions in the Sierra Gorda date from the 1730s. The mission at Jalpan, north east of Queretaro, is a good base for exploring. Riding to Jalpan is an experience. A gale swirls dust across the Queretaro plains. Tequisquiapan is hot-spring spa hotels and restaurants with pools. I halt at a hardware store and buy plastic safety glasses. The store owner warns me to be careful riding over the Sierra, that the wind is dangerous for bikers. I take nourishment for the climb in the next town, Cardereyta, at a butchery serving great Tacos.

GREAT SPOT FOR A RANT

QUERETARO, MEXICO: MARCH 6
I return from Teotihuacan in a reasonable state of exhaustion. This is my last evening in Queretaro. Queretaro has been good to me. It is my favourite city in Mexico – not for beauty, Oaxca wins out, but for quality of life. I buy a coffee ice cream cone and walk over to Jardin del Armas. I must write of pyramids and the cloister coffee shop is a fine spot in which to compose a rant.

PYRAMIDS ARE FOR LOSERS

TEOTIHUACAN, MEXICO: MARCH 6
Teotihuacan is one of those musts for visitors to Mexico City. The Pyramid of the Sun is the main attraction. The pyramid is 64 meters high and covers approximately the same area as the Great Pyramid in Egypt.
Big deal.
An expressway runs directly from Mexico City to the archaeological sight. Take a bus. The excursion is painless. I am in Queretaro. Avenida Lopez connects the Queretaro-Mexico City expressway with the expressway to Teotihuacan. Avenida Lopez is a ninety minute ride. Riding Avenida Lopez on a baby Honda is for lunatics. Truck drivers try using me as an ice hockey puck.
So why am I risking my life? Pyramids are impressive rather than beautiful: mini-mountains built by man. They don't do it for me - particularly pyramids in Mexico and Central America. I have become too close in my travels to the first Spaniards. I imagine the pyramids through their eyes: heaps of skulls at the base, billions of flies, steps steeped in blood and flesh and defecation. Or did a horde of scrubbers work the steps? Did the cleaner scrubbing the top level earn extra? Only a few hundred steps to the summit, great job...
Those first Spaniards are condemned for destroying a culture.
A culture that vile merited destruction.
Yes, I know. I am politically incorrect. Please excuse me. I am an Old Blimp. I can't feel the romance.

SERVICE WITH A SMILE AND A CAMERA

QUERETARO, MEXICO: MARCH 5
I rode the bike uptown to the Honda outlet for a 3000 K service. Rodrigo King is the man, speaks perfect English. He calls me to collect the bike around 5 pm. He has a couple of newspapers and a TV channel keen to do a story. Is that OK?
It is certainly OK. I have become accustomed to speaking in Spanish on camera. The questions don't change much. I wear my Alpinestars boots and top shirt and Honda give me a free service. Nice people...

A SHORT RANT

QUERETARO, MEXICO: FRIDAY MARCH 5
The Texas and Ohio votes were a disappointment to Obama supporters. I watched on CNN. Hillary Clinton made a winner's speech. Obama needed to counter-punch. What we got was niceness. Niceness is a loser.
Mexicans here in Queretaro with whom I speak want an Obama victory and expect his defeat. Defeat for Obama confirms their view of the US. This view is governed by their dislike of President Bush. Arrogant and ignorant are the first charges. Racist and prejudiced come next.
I point to two Black Secretaries of State, one a woman, and mention the huge amounts the US spends on Aid. Latin Americans counter with Iraq.
Panamanians believe that the US military killed 5000 Panamanians in arresting Noriega.
God knows how many Iraqis have been killed in arresting Saddam Husein and his clique.
The toll in Afghanistan is mounting.
Many are killed in aerial bombardment. Women and children are amongst those killed - killed from on high. These are the fatalities Latin Americans see on TV.
Collateral damage is the military description.
Both Obama and Hillary Clinton wish to end the Occupation of Iraq; as do Cliff Irving's good friends who were visiting Zihuataneje. Cliff's friends have printed camouflage T-shirts with the admirable slogan: bring 'em home.
I will try to post an address...

ONE FOR HAMISH - AND HILARY SUPPORTERS

QUERETARO, MEXICO: MARCH 5
At home, we have a Border terrier, Hamish. My wife, Bernadette, is in New York for a week. Hamish is looking after our youngest son. This photograph is for Hamish - and a comment on those who voted for Hilary Clinton in last night's Primary.

GOOD GIRLS DON'T SPEAK

QUERETARO. MEXICO: MARCH 4
A Municipal art gallery down the walking street from the Jardin de Armas is a magnificent modern space within ancient walls. I find an exhibition of communication in art on the left-hand of two mezzanines.
A young professor discusses communication with his students. He stands in front of eight small, unframed, oil paintings. The paintings hang in a horizontal line on a large white wall and are equidistant one from the other. The paintings could be arranged as a narrative: sea monster, sinking ship, telephone, satellite dish...
The painter has arranged them haphazardly - perhaps because that is the manner in which we are offered information on the web.
Haphazard offends one of the two male students.
The female students don't speak.
The professor is accustomed to their silence.
The female students are accustomed to communicating by cellular.
I apologize for intruding and offer my banal suggestion.
They seem bemused.
Silence is natural.
They have been silent throughout their education.
Sad that they haven't learned to speak.

OBAMA HAS THE LATIN AMERICAN VOTE

QUERETARO, MEXICO: MARCH 4
I sit on a bench in the Jardin del Armas this morning and listen with joy to a throaty Mexican Blues vocalist (female) accompanied by two guitars (male). A family shares the bench: two small children, mum and dad. Dad is a tall thin schoolteacher wanting to be a writer. Mum is a plump mum. Kids are well behaved. The teacher and I talk US politics. He is pro Obama. All his friends are pro Obama. Obama would be proof that the US can change.
Every Latin American with whom I have talked during the US Primaries has been a supporter of Obama.
CNN reports that the US Latino vote is pro Hilary Clinton.

GOTHS ARE WEIRD BUT OK

QUERETARO, MEXICO: MARCH 4
People in Queretaro dress for fun. Early evening and I sit a while in the Jardin Zanea and people watch. A pack of cowboy Goths pass, both sexes dress identically: black stetson, tight black sleeveless T-shirt, black stovepipe jeans, black boots.
Yesterday evening I spotted a real male Goth, streaked hair, white makeup, everything. He was crossing the road outside the Theater of the Republic. He swished as he walked, either deliberately overt Gay or acting Gay. He was with his sister and his parents. His parents appeared unperturbed.
Late, around 10 pm, I count eleven elderly men carrying guitars and either sharing a bench in the garden or chatting to each other on the sidewalk.
That is my view of Queretaro: a city of music, good people, not uptight; streets and parks are clean, architecture is the right size.

CNN ANTI OBAMA

QUERETARO, MEXICO: MARCH 3
I have a routine. I walk in the morning for an hour. Queretaro is great for walking. People are courteous and sidewalks are seldom crowded. My new laptop weighs little more than a book. It fits the hand well and is comfortable to carry. I find a coffeehouse in the cloister facing the Jardin de Armas and work three hours. I return to the hotel, connect through WiFi, post the new entries and leave the laptop on charge. I walk a further hour, visiting museums, galleries, sneaking into patios, doing my death trip in a church or two. I have found an oyster bar facing across Calle Corregidora to the gardens. I order the US$6 set menu: prawn cocktail, a red snapper off the grill and a flan. I write notes while eating, collect the laptop and finish off the battery a second time over coffee back in the cloister. Returning to my room, I post and watch the US Presidential Primaries on CNN. Why CNN? CNN is the only channel available on the hotel's satellite package. How is CNN reportage of the Primaries? A crafty assassination job on Barak Obama...

GENTLE AND JOYOUS CITY

QUERETARO: MARCH 1
Morelia is a harsh city built to impress and subjugate. Queretaro is joyous. Only the paving is gray. Walls are deep rose, ocher and faded buttercup.
Lovely parks on the periphery are safe. Pedestrian streets connect four squares in the center. Cloisters of clipped trees surround the squares. Miracle of miracles, water jets from every fountain.
Late in the evening I share a wrought-iron bench in the Plaza de Independencia with two elderly men and listen to a guitarist and vocalist perform at a sidewalk restaurant. The vocalist is brilliant. I listen to two sets before guilt forces me to sit at a table and sip a cold Corrona. Guilt? Why is guilt so predominant an emotion? Catholic heritage is too easy an answer.