Saturday afternoon, Gerardo and I went by collective taxi to Huayapam to take some cds full of Mike’s pictures he had taken of the soccer game to Bardo’s son Pavel. Returning to the city about 9pm we decided to stop by the Cucuracha for mescal…place was pretty empty for Saturday…and no live music. Walking back to my apartment we met Benito, a Zocalo troller (for free beer and food from the extranjeros-foreigners in English). The girl he was with wanted us to go with them to a club with live Mexican music & kereoke during the breaks. A bucket of six beers was 40 pesos or $4. The place was packed…people singing traditional Mexican songs along with the kareoke singer…Gerardo translating for me. A lot of culture in those songs…some putting goose bumps on me. One song was about an angry woman who had decided to put a stop to what I interpreted was the mysogyny from the males…her voice rising to amazing screaming decibles toward the end.
By 4am Gerardo walked me home through the barricades…stopping to talk to the four guards standing around a fire they were feeding with paper garbage…one older…the others young…one holding a long metal rocket launcher to give a signal if any trouble approached.
Sunday was obviously a down day with no activity on my part.