Lake Chapala south of Guadalajara reputedly has one of the world’s “best” climates. No matter how one tries to measure it, the mix of moderate temperatures (all year round) with low humidity and mostly blue skies is definitely praiseworthy. We camped at Roca Azul, a former-campground-now-mostly-cabana-community, and–as always–found its camping section nearly deserted. The only other guests were two retirees from the United States; one of them “walked” his terrier while driving a golf cart; the other one yelled at me because Harry wasn’t leashed. Lovely.
I spent both days catching up on e-mails, responding to recommendation letter requests and trying to figure out how to ship la bestia to South America. It looks as if a container from Veracruz to Cartagena is the most sensible option, but nothing’s decided yet. In the evening I drove to a large lakeside restaurant (again deserted) and sampled raw octopus and local fish filet.
This morning we woke to people shouting “aus!” (out) — Werner from Hamburg and Werner from Austria were playing tennis on the nearby court. Both moved to Roca Azul decades ago. 81-year old Werner from Hamburg (left) was excited to learn about Harry’s and my trip, which reminded him of a visit to Buenos Aires in 1960.