We spent 6 days in the city of Chihuahua. It was lovely to stop for such a long time in one place. Each day started with breakfast cooked to order in the dining room of the San Felipe el Real hotel and a chat with our host. Afterwards we’d stroll down to the plaza and sit in the sun for a while and people-watch. We visited the cathedral and lapsed though we are, felt at home with the silence and incense smells. We walked as many streets as we could find and discovered a whole new section of town only on day 4. The city is a mixture of ornate, old, buildings, a few modern structures and shabby, paint-peeling aluminum shop fronts.
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There’s a pedestrian zone around the plaza, market stalls and boot shops galore. Local Indian women in their bright colored floral dresses with babies hanging off their hips strolled among the skinny-jeaned, headphoned students. We only saw one other person who could have been a tourist. That was the really nice thing about our stay, and even though we did not blend in, the only time we seemed to get noticed was when we were on the bike. It was the usual UDF (Ural Delay Factor) with conversations through car windows while sitting at the traffic lights, or stopping at the Lavanderia.
There weren’t a lot of comfortable, sit-down restaurants nearby and one late night Fran resorted to ordering a Hamburguesa from the cart parked at the end of the street. I was predicting doom and gloom for his frivolous attitude to foreign bacteria but he’s still going strong. I’ve silently designated him my official taster and am watching closely for symptoms. We were happy when we found a supermarket close by, AlSuper. There’s only so many times one can eat out. It took a few minutes to negotiate the bakery etiquette but we got the hang of it.
One day we tried to change the last of our American dollars but like the US, the banks don’t want it unless you have an account. We got lucky when one of the bank’s customers offered to buy. Feeling very shady, we did the transaction outside by his car and both parties went home happy.
We wiled away a couple of hours on Sunday at the Historical Museum of the Mexican Revolution. It’s housed in the former residence of Pancho Villa and his wife and is now owned by the government. We saw Pancho Villa’s kitchen, the revolution’s artillary and even the bullet-ridden car he was assassinated in. If I still had my house now, I’d be hanging that photo next to the one of Colonel Gaddafi’s blue Volkswagen. Fran’s now immersing himself in YouTube documentaries on Mexican history so he can sound knowledgeable next time we dine at a Mexican dinner table.
And I finally got the answer to my ‘Anthony Queen Parador’ question. Anthony Quinn was born in Chihuahua (who knew?). His photos adorned the walls of the Villa mansion, kissing the widow and obviously enjoying, as he should, his Local Boy Made Good status.
Another fun fact to add to the Useless Information Bag. No wonder the bike isn't getting any lighter.