It feels good to get out of Guanajuato and to be in Leon for the day. I've visited two shopping malls, ate a burger at McDonnalds and had a good talk about mexican transexuals with my friendly taxi driver (formerly of Houston Texas). Apparently, they have doctors to do the surgeries in Mexico... will inflate your breasts and everything, but the real classy specialists are in California. Also, he points out a place where I can start my training for La Lucha Libre tomorrow if I like. I shake off the temptation with a laugh (and thus my career as a mexican wrestler has ended before had ever begun.)

Guanajuato has been lovely, but it has a dark haunted element, and after a week here, I feel my face muscles gravitating toward my feet. (However, because of all the walking, my ass is gravitating toward the heavens). Guanajuato is home to the death lottery in which the Spanish military chose persons at random to pay for their previous victories over the invasion. It's a city filled with ghosts, dark corners, mines, and tiny streets no wider than your arm. The mountains churn the city's occupants all day long, and they randomly collide with eachother twice a day whether they like it or not.

When I look up at the sky, it is only six inches wide. Remember how Ryan first told me that he misses the horizon? I have fallen into a hole in the earth, and the people are friendly, the food is nice, and everything is well organized, but it is a hole in the earth. Remember Fraggle Rock?

Thankfully, the bus ride out to Leon made me remember the real Mexico again. Open, sweaty, breathing at it's own pace and no one elses. The business man beside me from Aguas Calientes wants to know what I'm reading...it's a book on Mexican culture I explain to him. He frowns when I tell him it is written by a gringo. Then a man with a mustache, a stain on his bulging belly, and an old patched up guitar boards the bus and quiets our conversation. He is singing passionately beside me, and the woman that is seated behind him rolls her eyes a bit and shrugs her shoulders to me.
'This is so Mexico' the business man explains.
When the man finishes singing, the business man asks if I understand what it was he has sung. I can't provide him with a direct translation, but it's what all the songs here are about; a woman, a kiss, the arms of a lover, a good bye and lots of crying. He nods his head in agreement.

The woman who shrugged to me points out the airport that we are passing on the right. Every bus I climb onto seems to know my whole story before I climb off. I've never missed a destination on any of my bus rides, because someone always knows better than I do where I am going and cares for me the way they would any of the other children playing in the street.