Journal: Guanajuato, Valenciana Mine, Bocamina San Ramon, Alhondiga Museum, and Cuauhtemoc

 

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Sunday 6th November

 

I really could have done with an earlier night last night. Simon came round at seven this morning, and by eight (after some much needed tea) we were in the car on the way to Guanajuato. I was struggling, but pleased to finally have someone to travel with. Going up north for a few days and returning on Tuesday was not part of the original plan, but I am desperate for friends, and beggars can’t be choosers.

Arriving in Guanajuato was one of the coolest driving experiences I have had, ever. The city centre is tiny, claustrophobic almost. The streets are hilly and, on average, nine feet wide. There are two roads cars can drive along, and in the rest of town there are tunnels! I’m glad I arrived with a local because when you are underground there is no way of telling where you are! You can’t see the buildings at all, and every now and again another dark tunnel goes off to the side - junctions underground! I perk up considerably on arrival, this place is fantastic! Nothing like any other city in Mexico. There isn’t even a zocalo. The main plaza is called “El Jardin” and it is triangular shaped. There is an enormous hedge providing, well almost a roof really, and in the bandstand there is actually a band playing. The atmosphere is almost perfect, there are plenty of cafes to choose from, the music the band plays actually makes you want to stop and listen. There is one small taint on the landscape; gringos EVERYWHERE.

 

                                                            

 

After an afternoon nap I head up in the funicular train to an enormous statue on the hill. The view across town is great, but the feature that makes Guanajuato really beautiful is the tiny little streets and “callejons”, with plazas and quiet spaces every now and again. Walking down from the hill I entertained myself by taking the street that looked smallest at every junction. On most little alleys I could easily touch both walls at once, and some of the tucked way houses were beautiful colours and made the bars on the window look like designer iron work.

After sunset Simon and I checked out a few bars and cafes. Ironically in every single one I would have been happy to sit down and eat or drink alone. They need more places like this in Tlaxcala and Xalapa!

 

Monday 7th November

 

Mondays are not the greatest day for sightseeing in Mexico. Even though the “information” guy at a hotel told me the Alhondiga Museum was open, it was in fact closed, as were all the museums in town.

I wandered around the market, a very sophisticated one inside an enormous high-ceilinged building, and contemplated buying Guanajuato t-shirts. They were so cheap, but so disgusting that in then end I realised it was a silly idea

 

                                               

          

On my wanderings I came across a little alley with a punk music shop and purchased some Mexicn ska from a teenage goth. I found some beautiful plazas, in one of which I could read the paper whilst watching secondary school PE lessons. It would seem that there is not enough space in the city for lessons anywhere else. The boys’ class involved trying to stand on each others shoulders and neither me nor Simon thought that was particularly safe on the concrete.

Our afternoon drive around town lasted longer than expected, and to my disappointment didn’t involve very many tunnels. The ring road here is actually called the “panoramica” because it is in the hills and unfortunately we spent a good half an hour trying to find it. By the time we got to the old mine buildings it was sunset, and we visited a couple of churches in the dark. The main problem was that I like maps, whereas Simon – who supposedly knows his way around – denounced the map as a load of rubbish, and got extremely upset when I tried to look at it.

After an out of town trip to a super Mexican taqueria that unfortunately no longer exists, we ate in the only busy restaurant we could find, a Mexican version of a little chef. The intense “why I am anti-capitalist” conversation tired me out so much I almost fell asleep in a bar before returning to the hotel.

The conclusion we came to in our discussion was that to have a fixed view point that ignores new information is the worst thing. Unfortunately looking back over it I realise that by his own argument he sets himself up to keep his fixed opinion, (that wall-mart is not bad, and that poor people are happy) as he very rarely gets any new information. He only believes things he sees with his own eyes (ie he won’t read newspapers) and this, tied with the fact that he mainly uses his eyes to look at young women’s legs, is not teaching him very much any more.

Overall I was forced to concede one point, which I am still wrestling with – why should the people of Patzcuaro be denied the right to shop in wall- mart? (I am opposed to the mall they are planning on building there). But my arguing technique definitely needs work. I answered all of his difficult questions, but he answered none of mine. I tried not to interrupt; he interrupted me at least fifteen times.

Hmmm. If I am to succeed in my mission to encourage people to think more about the world around them I am going to have to work on my technique. (This is why I prefer teenagers.)

 

Tuesday 8th November

 

Well, after driving around like a loon in as many tunnels as I could find, I popped down a mine and visited a museum.

The mine “Bocamina San Ramon” was fascinating. They have a map on the wall showing all the underground routes, and the whole hill is perforated, I can’t help wondering how safe it is to have just these thin little pieces of land left in between the holes. My guide Daniel tells me it’s ok because the ground is all rock. (Suddenly the reason for all the tunnels in town becomes clear, they love being underground here).

I was unsure about whether I wanted to actually go down a mine, but in the end it was a nice staircase and well lit. Apparently I went down 70 metres, although it was only slightly more exciting than going in the cellar. It wasn’t compulsory to wear the bright orange hat, but I felt it added to the experience.

 

                               

 

My guide was excellent; he explained that this mine “Valenciana” is the only mine owned entirely by Mexicans. It is a cooperative, but that doesn’t actually mean it’s good for everyone involved. There are some people getting very rich, some of the silver stays in the country, and the miners work hard for not much. A woman trying to sell me silver jewellery had told me that half the silver extracted goes back to the miners’ families where in their houses they make an outstanding range of earrings, bracelets and necklaces to supplement their measly income. I was dubious about the story, and Daniel told me that in fact a very very small part of the silver stays in town. I was surprised to learn that there are eight mines still working in the area.

At the main entrance to the Valenciana mine I was quite happily leaning on the fence and peering down a mine shaft when someone told me it was 525 metres deep. Wow, no wonder the echoes of my shouting sounded so very far away. With more caution I went back to take a photo

 

                               

 

It turns out that although this mine is closed at the moment (due to economical difficulties, or flooding, depending on who you believe) the shaft is still in use. Miners go down all that way, work for eight hours and get paid 9 dollars for the privilege. When the mine was producing loads of silver there were over a thousand miners working it. At this time most women had an average of three husbands in a lifetime because of the death rate from mine related problems (tb, drowning, etc..).

In the museum I learnt that it wasn’t always that bad in the mines. At their peak, when Mexico was extremely rich, miners had all sorts of benefits including education for their children and a decent wage. The sly ones made a tidy profit by stealing. They would take a cylindrical tube with them, fill it up with silver, and hide it about their person. I bet you can guess where.

The Alhóndiga museum is also the site of a good story about independence. During the first battle at Guanajuato (led by Hidalgo) the Spanish were hiding out in the museum building. A sneaky man called Pípila (who was a large man - if his 20m statue is anything to go by) set fire to the building thus killing the people inside. The next year (1811) when Hidalgo and three other independence fighters were captured in the north of Mexico, Guanajuato managed to get hold of their heads. The heads were hung in cages on the Alhóndiga building for ten years! Until Independence was officially achieved. A nice gory story of Spanish revenge.

After all this touristy action it was time to head back to Mexico. Due to jaw ache and tiredness I managed to lock my keys in the car at the Pemex just outside of Queretero. All in all, thanks to the help of my new found friend Arturo, it took less than an hour to sort out (and 15 quid). I hope the locksmith who came is an honest man because he broke in with a piece of metal in about the same amount of time it takes to open the door with a key.

 

Wednesday 9th November

 

I spent most of my day worrying about the fact that my teeth were in the wrong place. The dentist appointment is tomorrow.

 

Thursday 10th November

 

Before the dentist I managed to get downtown to try and replace my computer cable (I left it in a hotel room and when I called up to ask them to look after it for me….. “no, we didn’t find anything”. Bastards). As usual I ended up being completely stroppy and convinced that everyone was trying to rip me off.

The dentist told me one of my ligaments is in the wrong place. But the pills are helping so I’ll stop moaning about it now.

 

Friday 11th November

 

I purchased a permanent Mexico City driving licence for 20 pounds, tried to sell my car, looked at a famous tree stump, and got my brakes fixed.

Of all the ripping off I have been subjected to, this is possibly the worst. My brakes were squeaky on the way in, and made exactly the same noise on the way out. Plus he couldn’t find the parts they had taken out when I asked him to show me. He assured me the noise was because the parts were new and it will be gone in fifty kilometres then didn’t say goodbye. Well at least I have a guarantee.