Dark Blue
The tour is long, some three and a half hours, depending on the vehicle you use. You can also get there by plane, yet you won't have the chance of moving freely around the area.
Slopes, rivers and narrow roads send a clear signal that this is no place to visit during the rainy season. But we love every minute and every curve of it, just like a curious child that sees something amazing for the first time.
Rocks appear to be watching us as trees hail us down our path. We take a glimpse over one side and there it is, a dark-blue river streaming down from the mountain. Now I understand why they call it the blue river. Its hue makes a unique contrast with the lavish green of the scenery. The water seems refreshing. In addition to that, mountains in Puerto Vallarta turn bluish as the night closes in. These are dark-blue mountains, these are the mountains of Jalisco.
Getting to San Sebastian is like meeting a part of Mexico's history, like entering a place where time has stood still for the past 400 years. Stone houses, fog rolling down from the mountains; nothing seems to disrupt the peace of this town. We checked in at the Hotel del Puente, a nice 200-year-old mansion that was turned into a lodging facility some four years ago. Ask for a room that overlooks the mountains. You're going to love it!
Early birds can catch good-tasting breakfast in two or three places before hitting the streets. Visit the church and the Museum of Doña Conchita. Since I laid eyes on this place for the first time, I knew this was an incredible church of unfathomable historic value, the fruit of a woman's hardworking endeavor who, as inexplicable as it might sound, never received any official aid whatsoever in her effort to rescue all documents and artifacts in display there. Those documents are the only remaining testimonies of a time that has almost been forgotten. With an admission fee of 10 pesos apiece, the museum has been able to endure time impairment the best it can, even though nobody seems to care more.
From San Sebastian we move on to Mascota, a place dominated by the volcanoes, lakes and dams of the surroundings. This time around, we stay at Villa Esmeralda, a lovely establishment that stands at the entrance of the town, right in the middle of the field, and features well-taken-care-of rooms equipped with such high-tech conveniences as cable-TV. We walk in the rooms and drop our suitcases on the floor to head for Talpa de Allende. We're starving, so we ask locals about any place in town that serves good-tasting food. We wound up eating great traditional food for a song and a bird. After loading up on calories, we go to see the Virgin to feed the spirit. There are two churches around here, one displaying the original Virgin, the other one featuring just a replica.
The town can't be any nicer and cuddlier, showing off guava jam factories and pastry bakeries in every corner, a plaza coming apart at the seams with people and a fresh breeze that blows through the streets.
Back to Mascota to hit the hay, we stop at a taco joint and engage in a friendly chat with some locals. One of them is the town's teacher, a man of good manners who tells us a lot about the history and daily goings of this hospitable village. This conversation, coupled with an earlier talk we'd had with the hotel's owner, led us to a couple of conclusions: firstly, that we cannot leave the area without visiting the Juanacatlan Lagoon, and secondly, that we need to come back to see everything we left behind without stealing a glance at, that is, plenty of things.
We made up our minds to wake up at 6 a.m. and head for the lagoon. Once again, the road is long and thorny, but we finally get there. You find yourself at your wits' ends. The place is so beautiful! The lagoon is nothing but a crater full of water where peacefulness and silence abound. If you still don't believe in miracles, then you can sip a cup of coffee and tuck in a light nosh in a place that features a breathtaking view. We feel as if we were floating up in the air; you can easily spend three to four hours there, listening to nothing but the sound of the leaves and staring at the sun, the swans, the squirrels and the horses. If you've got a crush on your companion, then stay here for a couple of unforgettable days.
The trip back to the hotel, with a storm looming from the mountains, is some kind of adventure. But that's a story for some other time.
(RECUADRO) In spite of the fact that my intention to do something about the Museum of Doña Conchita doesn't seem to move anybody, and some have even mocked at it, I'd like to use these lines to appeal to the sensitivity of good private citizens and companies out there that believe in the magical and beautiful things that life has to offer. I'd like to do something for future generations that will never know what happened unless we save those historic treasures.
I ask institutions to put their personal interests behind just once and do what they have to do to turn this project into a wonderful enterprise. If a private company steps forward, I commit myself to extending an unconditional helping hand. WHEN THERE'S A WILL, THERE'S A WAY. JUST REMEMBER THAT EVERYBODY COUNTS.
I'll be glad to receive your emails at consueloelipe@yahoo.com
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