Important to understanding Hispanic colonial experience (S.Hrg.108-485)

It's a good morning when you drive to work, but instead of leaving your car and going to the office, you head to the road in front of your building to catch a cab. It's an especially good morning when you are taking that cab to the airport for a four-day vacation. It's an impeccably good morning when you see a double rainbow a minute before a taxi pulls up to you.

That rainbow was the first indication that our pre-holidays holiday in Zacatecas, capital city of a state northwest of Mexico City, would fall under fortunate skies. Just days before, we had the bad luck of having to change our plans because of our own ignorance. After reading a travel advisory a little too late, we realized more than half our trip was off-limits; fortunately, we were able to change our plans with little cost. The second sign of our charmed visit was the charming Christmas lights and decorations throughout the colonial town. Across the streets were bells, snowflakes, and even words wishing us "Feliz Navidad" (top left), in Mercado González Ortega were a Christmas tree and Santa's chair (top right), and in at least two parks were piles of poinsettias (bottom).

 

 

But the most all-out decked-out park was the Plaza de Armas, the courtyard in front of the state capital buildings and the city's cathedral. In between the church and a Christmas village, complete with the tallest tree in town (left), was a packed ice-skating rink (right). We thought about taking a spin, but the line for skate rentals was around the rink.

Before the skates were put on, the city put on a Christmas show. A band played carols as Santa Claus and the three wise men waved to the crowd from the ice rink (top). A couple of blocks away, in another plaza, a less traditional and more artistic display was being presented by the city's cultural association (bottom left). A day later, in yet another plaza, area indigenous tribes were celebrating with diverse dances and costumes (bottom right).

 

Another day later, we saw a few of those haylike headresses in one of the city's famous museums, which displays an enormous collection of masks owned by Rafael Coronel, a native artist and the son-in-law of Diego Rivera. The museum is housed in a 16th-century convent (top left), whose roofless cathedral makes an evocative exhibition area for Rafael's paintings (top right). His artist brother, Pedro Coronel, also has a museum in town, housed in a 17th-century seminary (bottom left). Its halls are filled with works by artists that influenced Pedro, but still, his own sculptures are featured in the courtyard (bottom right).

 

 

We educated our bellies about Zacatecas as much as we enculturated our minds. Our cab driver had clued us into the state's type of birria made from borrego (young sheep), as opposed to the typical beef and goat in Tijuana (top left). We had a couple of adobada then birria tacos as we snacked our way through the Saturday market in the city's Parque Bicentenario (top right). For one breakfast, we visited the dining institution Acropolis (bottom left), where Tim tried the local specialty, asado de boda (bottom right).

By far, our most worthy meal was at Los Dorados de Villa (The Golds of the Village). The walls full of knickknacks and pictures definitely made you feel like you were eating in someone's house (top left), as did the customized, handmade ceramic plates (top right). Most of the featured dishes were basically variations on the enchilada, but serving them doused with sauce in cazuelas took them to a new level of comfort food (bottom left). The coup de grace, however, was the bathroom, which functioned as an open-air birdcage (bottom right), the sanitation of which would certainly not fly in the States.

 

 

Of course, we had to sample the local specialties in a glass, too. Pigus Micheladas served up the beer-juice mixes in more combinations than I thought possible. Surprisingly, I even enjoyed one of the blends, enough that I was willing to drink a liter of it (left). Being close to the eponymous city, León beer was available on many more menus than in our neck of Mexico, even at a Spanish-themed bar where we grabbed some tapas (right).

 

Perhaps due to a lingering Spainsh spirit, TJ managed to convince me to go to another bullfight, saying that it would feature more skilled sportsmen than the one we saw in Tijuana. Indeed, amid the eight matches in tribute to Zacatecas bullfighter Armando Montes, who was electrocuted when he was trying to repair a microwave, the matadors exhibited more flourish. Many penitently faced off with the bull as it entered the ring (left), and one performed all three stages of the bullfight, even mounting a horse to act as picador. The bulls were more feisty as well. One leaped over the inner wall and smack into the stone bleachers, then ran halfway around the outskirts before it was re-routed back into the ring, and another nearly gored one of the banderilleros after snagging his waistband with his horn. Still, I preferred the solace of the former bullring, which has been converted into the Quinta Real hotel (right).

Right in front of the luxury hotel are the remnants of an 18th-century aqueduct, built to bring water to the hilly city from a nearby mine. Now, no water flows through the channel, but cars drive through its arches (left). And plenty of water flows through the streams of Parque Enrique Estrada across the street (right).

The agua was also abundant in the fountains of Parque Sierra de Alica, yet another beautiful public green space (left). We strolled past a small Christmas market in the main arboreal promenade, the Alameda (right), as we made our way to one of the city's main attractions: its former silver and copper mine.

 

Across from the Parque Sierra de Alica is the Museo Francisco Goitia, one of the art museums in the city that we didn't visit (top left). Behind the museum lies the Parroquia de Nuestra Señora de Fátima, known for its pink stonework (top right). The Catedral de Zacatecas, with its more typical grey stone, is known for its intricate carvings (bottom). 

The experience at Mina El Eden begins with a short but dark ride on a train into the main tunnels of the mine (top). Just to be safe, you are provided with hairnets and helmets to protect you from falling dust and rock. When you first disembark from the train, you can gaze at geological wonders in a small museum (bottom left) before a guide leads you, physically and verbally, along the mine's historical and production paths. At one point, we passed the nightclub contained within the mine (bottom right); initially, we thought ourselves too old for its disco scene, which starts at 10 p.m Thursdays through Saturdays, and by the time we found out that the bar opens at 3 p.m., sadly it was already Sunday.

A one-way walk through the mine lets you exit right next to the teleférico, a cable car that takes you up to the Cerro de la Bufa (top left). The operators really pack in the people, so it was hard to get a clear view -- or good photo -- of the city below (top right), but the view from the top of the peak, named for its "funny" appearance, was completely open and unobstructed (bottom). 

 

Besides the excellent vista, the mountain has among its offerings a small chapel, a weather observatory, a museum, a mausoleum of the "illustrious men of Zacatecas" (left), and three statues of noteworthy Mexicans: Felipe Ángeles, a revolutionary war hero; Pánfilo Natera, former governor of Zacatecas state; and Francisco "Pancho" Villa, perhaps the most famous revolutionary general (right). 

Since we were already following the typical tourist route, we decided to go all-out with a tour of the city on a double-decker Maxibus (left). On the ride, we saw many of the same sights we had already toured -- the museums, the churches, the parks -- but nonetheless it was fun to see the city through its second story (right).

 

And Zacatecas definitely has a more interesting story than we had expected. We knew that the city had a wonderful colonial center, but we didn't understand how expansive it was or how enjoyable it would be to watch the bustle from a balcony, whether it be attached to a cafe, like miDali cafe (top left), or to our room at Hostal Villa Colonial (top right). We also didn't realize how extensive the city's attractions would be; I mean, what city do you know that has a zipline, Tirolesa 840 (bottom left), in one of its most visited parks? Zacatecas is truly a mix of old and new, as seen within the many Volkswagen Beetles on its streets (bottom right).

  

 

Something old, something new -- that's part of the tradition of wedding, too, right? A while back, TJ told me the he wanted to get me a wedding ring for Christmas, but that he wanted me to help pick it out, to make sure I would like it. Zacatecas, with its long tradition of silver mining and designing, seemed like the perfect place to find one. And indeed, we found the perfect ring (only perhaps a bit big for my winter-shriveled fingers), at Centro Platero, bringing the good fortune of our trip full circle. 

A private corporation which owns 86 percent of the land on Santa Catalina Island (62FR42692)

I always thought I wanted to go on a bicycling/camping trip because it seemed like the epitome of freedom: ride where the road takes you and sleep where you find a safe spot of ground. Surprisingly, I never thought of the burden that might come with such a trek, mainly in terms of weightload. So it's a good thing that TJ and I picked Catalina Island as our first attempt at such a trip.

The way we planned to start out simple was to set up camp at Hermit Gulch Campground, then ride around the island from there. Although the panniers for my bike hold a lot, we don't exactly have the correct gear to lighten the load on a long-distance journey, so we had to pack our tent and sleeping bags in backpacks (left). It was easy enough to walk our bikes onto the Catalina Express ferry from Dana Point harbor, but as we pulled into the dock at Avalon, the clouds in the distance belied some difficulty to come (right).

We only had to ride about mile uphill (both ways?) to our campground, and by the end we were soaked with sweat and rain. It was a near-downpour by the time we set up our tent, so we couldn't even hang out all our wet belongings to dry. Considering most Catalina tourists are less, um, outdoorsy, the campground managers were impressed by our tenacity, especially when we didn't opt to upgrade to a tent cabin. Nonetheless, after only that short ride in showers, we were ready to take shelter in a watering hole. Surely, if we snuggled up to a bar every time it drizzled on a cross-country spin, we wouldn't get far. 

One place we didn't get cocktails was Sugarloaf Casino, a circular Art Deco edifice that despite its name was once a hotspot for dancing, not gambling and drinking. Now, instead of booking Big Bands, it fills a big screen daily (Wreck-it Ralph was showing while we were there). It is also home to the Catalina Island Museum, where you can read all about celebrities who frequented the island, like Natalie Wood, whose body was found off the island's coast.

The construction of the casino was funded by chewing-gum magnate William Wrigley Jr., who is honored with an imposing structure at the Wrigley Memorial & Botanic Garden, which was less than a half-mile from our campsite. The garden is on land owned by the Catalina Island Conservancy, which was created by Wrigley to protect the island and which still owns more than 80 percent of its land. 

Its conservation efforts, including helping rescue a once-near-extinct species of fox, would be honorable except for the fact that it uses its monopoly on the island to charge hefty fees for permits to use the land. In order to bike outside of the city and into the interior (top), we had to become members, which costs $35 per person. Sure, it gave us an annual pass to ride the island, but it seems like there could and should be some option for less-regular visitors. Besides, pedaling up the steep inclines of the island's mountains is a high enough toll, at least on your legs, especially when your rewarding vista of Avalon Bay is progressively obscured by overcast skies (bottom).

After some less strenuous riding atop the island's plateaus, we arrived at the fog-filled Airport in the Sky (top left). Some Hangar 24 beer and some buffalo chili from the on-site restaurant, DC-3, really hit the spot amid the surrounding dampness (top right). Plus, the many hummingbirds fluttering on the patio helped remind me of springier temperatures (bottom left). But the crowning achievement was spotting a bison across the valley; the animals were left to flourish on the island after a herd was brought in to film an adaptation of Zane Grey's The Vanishing American. Sadly, without a zoom lens, the only photo of a bison I could get was of the (possibly fake) head above the fireplace (bottom right).

 

   

With many of the dirt paths washed out and closed, we had reached the end of the road when it came to bicycling. So the next day, we took to our feet for the Garden to Sky Hike, which climbs up from the Wrigley Memorial to the Trans-Catalina Trail. After reaching the summit of the hike (left), we continued on a suggested loop by taking the Hermit Gulch trail (right) back to our campground. 

I could end this blog post here and act like we had an incredibly active weekend on the island. To be fair, we did, but in other respects, we were lightweights -- although not in the imbibing sense. We had a drink at every dive bar in town, including The Locker Room, the place to be for locals (left), and the Marlin Club, the oldest bar in Avalon (right). The Marlin Club's bar was built to resemble a WWII-era Merchant Marines boat, with no sportfish in sight. 

 

However, at the Margaritaville-like Catalina Cantina (left) and the nautical-inspired El Galleon (right), we sipped among many stuffed fish. Luckily, we managed to dodge complete Put-in-Bay-style cheesiness by not ordering the Wiki Wacker, which comes with a straw hat, at Luau Larry's. 

  

We did get stuck in both The Sandtrap (left), whose $9 pitchers and $1 tacos were worth the sub-par ambiance, and The Lobster Trap (right), whose seafood offerings and Lost Coast drafts were both diverse and filling.

 

We had some similarly delicious although more pedestrian fare, such as a chorizo burrito and Ortega chile omelet from Pete's Cafe (top), a topping-heavy pizza from Antonio's Caberet (bottom left), and generous portions of fish and chips from Eric's on the Pier (bottom right).

Even after all the food, we managed to squeeze in some Christmas spirit. Avalon was all lit up for its annual Shop at Home night (top). The goal of the event is to promote sales at local businesses, but the biggest draw appeared to be Santa, who sat in a sleigh in front of El Galleon (bottom). Lucky for Saint Nick, we didn't have any canned-good donations on us as payment to take a photo, so he didn't have to put up with my butt on his lap.

Even with our bags deposited at the ferry dock, I felt pretty packed with excitement from the weekend. When we had our last beer at the Buffalo Nickel, by Catalina's heliport, the island was still under clouds (top left), which broke just as we were pulling out of the harbor (top right). However, any acrimony at our bad luck was unburdened by the beautiful sunset we were able to watch as we breezily rode home, powered by an engine other than ourselves (bottom).