Two weekends ago I had the divine pleasure of visiting El Borbollón, an eco-tourist volcanic hot spring. Besides forgetting my camera, I did get a real nice sunburn. The water is pea-green, apparently due to all of the salt and sulfur in the water. Besides the constant bubble of the volcanic blow hole, the natural oasis provides the finest volcanic mud I´ve ever seen! Black as coal and finer than sand, this mud is said to have skin-healing powers. I think in the United States it´s called exfoliation. So, I took about nine layers of skin off, but had a most wonderful time and even got invited to temazcal (sweat lodge) for the next full moon. Quite a successful Saturday! Monday was Benito Juarez day here in Mexico, there was no school so I went fishing. Now before I finish, let me elaborate. This lady who sells raspados (bagged sno-cones) invited 
me to go with her husband, one who they call Camello and his brother Calaco (Camel and Bones, respectively, I still don´t know their real names). She told me that we would go to the dam (I assumed it was the haunted one that´s ten minutes from my house) and to bring shorts and old shoes, not too much to ask. I get to Camello´s house about eight in the morning, we loaded up and were on the way. On the way out of town we pick up three of Camello´s cousins and grab three kilos of tortillas and four liters of water. I soon realize that we weren´t going to the haunted dam as it flew passed my right shoulder. An hour later and we were had long passed the Querétaro state line. We were in the middle of nowhere when stop in a cornfield in front of a living room sized pond, with water barely knee deep (Mexican knee deep, mind you). Calaco and one of his cousins unravel a homemade net and attach two poles made of pendicua (an extremely hard wood, but only after being charred), they affix seven empty coke bottles to the top of the net and jump into the puddle. They commence to span the puddle with the net and drag the net the entire length of the charco. I couldn´t believe my eyes. Why hadn´t I thought of this before. In Michigan my brother and I fish for sport; here in Mexico we fish to eat! By some miracle we were able to bag three juicy mojarra, two carp and a handful of charales (sardine sized fishies). Apparently Calaco and Camello were more interested in eating than bringin' home the bacon! We make a fire, toss the fish in and VOILA!... fish stew. Side note: The fish were gutted and quartered by a most rusty utility knife that Calaco produced from under the seat of his Chevy S-10. The fish were cut into four, and with my luck I got halved heads. Now I regularly don't eat fish, let alone fish heads, but with Calaco marveling at how lucky we were to have caught these beauties, I felt obliged. To be honest the fish wasn't the most disgusting thing I've eaten in my life, but trying to slurp down the broth with the carp looking you in the eye with that nasty boiled black eye sure wins a close second! We dawdled around some more charcos for another few hours before returning home. We ended up back in Temas having only caught one slimy toad (which Calaco and Camello nearly killed each other for.) Although we didn't have the most successful day fishing, Calacos wife certainly ate a hearty toad dinner! Phew! What a weekend, oh wait, I almost forgot to tell you about THIS weekend. It turns out that my adopted cousin Deniss turned fifteen on Saturday. You might say "big whoop fifteen years old," as I most certainly did. It's Mexican tradition (if the funds are available) to throw a big fiesta to honor the coveted fifteenth birthday. I've been to three of these parties so far, which were a good time: mole, dancing
, drinking, and then to bed. Well this was no exception. The only catch was that it was on the other side of Mexico City. The trip was two hours by bus, two by metro, another hour by micro (Volkswagen bus taxis, with about 20 people packed tight) and another fifteen minutes by bici-taxi (bicycle rickshaws) and we were there. The party was thrown perhaps the most depressing place I have ever been to: Chimalhuacan., Edo. de Mexico. Home to some 500,000 desperate people, the town looks like an urban shantytown, each dusty street looks the same with the same drug-addicts and drunks, thieves and soiled doves. Some of the hired wait staff even opted to stay at the event site during the night, as many are robbed of their tuxedos just going home. So here we are four suited gents and two gowned ladies in the middle of the anus of Mexico. The good thing was that nothing happened to us in this most lawless of cities. We get to the giant circus tent and take a seat among the 500+ guests. Carnitas, rice, cactus salad, beer, tequila, fruit salad and finally a 200lb. birthday cake (that cost $800USD!) to top off the buffet. My cousin danced with dancers amidst fireworks and mariachis. Then the party started. The famous Sonido Pancho and the cumbia hit-makers Sonora Dinamita had been contracted to make the party bump. I don't know if it was the long ride, that the beers had run out, or so much dancing but I called it quits at 4:00am. Sonora Dinamita was still playing and the foam party had yet to commence. We took another bici-taxi to a most dingy hotel (I had to ask for new pillows because of all of the rat-chewed holes,) with no electricity and a room service menu that offered three types of condoms. They charged $12USD for the night. We awoke that morning and went to my aunt's house for breakfast. We ate a most delicious breakfast of sesos (beef brains) quesadillas and fresh-squeezed tangerine juice, and were on our way. Let's just say that Monday I had a hard time getting up for work.
me to go with her husband, one who they call Camello and his brother Calaco (Camel and Bones, respectively, I still don´t know their real names). She told me that we would go to the dam (I assumed it was the haunted one that´s ten minutes from my house) and to bring shorts and old shoes, not too much to ask. I get to Camello´s house about eight in the morning, we loaded up and were on the way. On the way out of town we pick up three of Camello´s cousins and grab three kilos of tortillas and four liters of water. I soon realize that we weren´t going to the haunted dam as it flew passed my right shoulder. An hour later and we were had long passed the Querétaro state line. We were in the middle of nowhere when stop in a cornfield in front of a living room sized pond, with water barely knee deep (Mexican knee deep, mind you). Calaco and one of his cousins unravel a homemade net and attach two poles made of pendicua (an extremely hard wood, but only after being charred), they affix seven empty coke bottles to the top of the net and jump into the puddle. They commence to span the puddle with the net and drag the net the entire length of the charco. I couldn´t believe my eyes. Why hadn´t I thought of this before. In Michigan my brother and I fish for sport; here in Mexico we fish to eat! By some miracle we were able to bag three juicy mojarra, two carp and a handful of charales (sardine sized fishies). Apparently Calaco and Camello were more interested in eating than bringin' home the bacon! We make a fire, toss the fish in and VOILA!... fish stew. Side note: The fish were gutted and quartered by a most rusty utility knife that Calaco produced from under the seat of his Chevy S-10. The fish were cut into four, and with my luck I got halved heads. Now I regularly don't eat fish, let alone fish heads, but with Calaco marveling at how lucky we were to have caught these beauties, I felt obliged. To be honest the fish wasn't the most disgusting thing I've eaten in my life, but trying to slurp down the broth with the carp looking you in the eye with that nasty boiled black eye sure wins a close second! We dawdled around some more charcos for another few hours before returning home. We ended up back in Temas having only caught one slimy toad (which Calaco and Camello nearly killed each other for.) Although we didn't have the most successful day fishing, Calacos wife certainly ate a hearty toad dinner! Phew! What a weekend, oh wait, I almost forgot to tell you about THIS weekend. It turns out that my adopted cousin Deniss turned fifteen on Saturday. You might say "big whoop fifteen years old," as I most certainly did. It's Mexican tradition (if the funds are available) to throw a big fiesta to honor the coveted fifteenth birthday. I've been to three of these parties so far, which were a good time: mole, dancing
, drinking, and then to bed. Well this was no exception. The only catch was that it was on the other side of Mexico City. The trip was two hours by bus, two by metro, another hour by micro (Volkswagen bus taxis, with about 20 people packed tight) and another fifteen minutes by bici-taxi (bicycle rickshaws) and we were there. The party was thrown perhaps the most depressing place I have ever been to: Chimalhuacan., Edo. de Mexico. Home to some 500,000 desperate people, the town looks like an urban shantytown, each dusty street looks the same with the same drug-addicts and drunks, thieves and soiled doves. Some of the hired wait staff even opted to stay at the event site during the night, as many are robbed of their tuxedos just going home. So here we are four suited gents and two gowned ladies in the middle of the anus of Mexico. The good thing was that nothing happened to us in this most lawless of cities. We get to the giant circus tent and take a seat among the 500+ guests. Carnitas, rice, cactus salad, beer, tequila, fruit salad and finally a 200lb. birthday cake (that cost $800USD!) to top off the buffet. My cousin danced with dancers amidst fireworks and mariachis. Then the party started. The famous Sonido Pancho and the cumbia hit-makers Sonora Dinamita had been contracted to make the party bump. I don't know if it was the long ride, that the beers had run out, or so much dancing but I called it quits at 4:00am. Sonora Dinamita was still playing and the foam party had yet to commence. We took another bici-taxi to a most dingy hotel (I had to ask for new pillows because of all of the rat-chewed holes,) with no electricity and a room service menu that offered three types of condoms. They charged $12USD for the night. We awoke that morning and went to my aunt's house for breakfast. We ate a most delicious breakfast of sesos (beef brains) quesadillas and fresh-squeezed tangerine juice, and were on our way. Let's just say that Monday I had a hard time getting up for work. 
After a successful 
the man was back and very apologetic - "Lo siento señor, solo tenemos de sapo" (sorry sir, we only have toad skin) and before I could laugh, he continued "y te olvidé preguntar si queria con cabeza o solitas..." (and, I forgot to ask you if you wanted those boots with or without the heads) and with that produced two pairs of toad skin boots. The first pair, without the head, a most brilliant vermillion, and the second, a most refreshing green, with the head carefully centered just above the pointy toe. The boss came over and explained to me that he only had toad skin, as toads have more skin to offer and covered the entire top part of the foot without having to split the skin, as with a frog. He quickly changed topics to the other fine exotic leathers that he carried: Snake skin, cobra skin, bull skin, manta ray skin, ostrich skin, ostrich-foot skin, armadillo skin, armadillo-stomach skin, crocodile skin, shark skin and then the types of cuts, with the types of toes. He then proceeded to pick out a pair that would fit me nice; a pair of white picuda croc skin boots (see top picture) aside from being incredibly comfortable, they laughably added four inches to my already size 12 feet! The only way I could pull them off would be to join Montez as a percussionist! No, as good as the price was ($1,400 pesos ($100 USD)), I couldn't do it... I settled on a more conventional, still pointed toe, brown cowhide boot. And damn (see above), they look good!