Go to the past | Go to the future
Just after the clock held eleven, we headed (and were misdirected by a dodgy guide book map) to La Gruta, a restaurant in a voluminous cave. In a cave! The brightly coloured furniture and Christmas decorations compliment the gray rock exquisitely, and the food is worth the elevated tourist prices. It was here that I added to my culinary experiences by eating nopal, a staple of local cooking. Amongst the decorations were the seasonal Noche Buena plants, known as Poinsettia to the world, owing to the US ambassador to Mexico who decided to take the plant home named after himself. Humble. And, at about 12pm in La Gruta, the tide of the day turned and his equally humble contemporary countrymen swarmed from their buses through the cave mouth with their lack of internal monologue and volume control. Every inane thought must be vocalised with high decibels; “I don't wanna sit there”, “this place is grrrreat”, “Heya cowboy” and on. And on. And on. But, fight fire with fire and speak to your companion a little too loudly the incantation “You need to get a better hat before we go to Cuba” and whole groups can be stunned into silence. I do mourn for their intelligent and calmly spoken countrymen who must suffer both the behavior and the reputation of it.
The sun now pouring its wrath upon a site teeming with mid-50s loudmouths, we headed out, en route investigated the other wing of the souvenir traders, the several dozen stores (imagine self-storage sheds filled with crystals, and t-shirts, and idols to lost gods) lining the roads to each gate. Each store has merchandise subtly different to each other, though the commerce is fierce.