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Hola Guadalajara. Olé! Tequila! 

Now and again something inside the grey-white cloud flickers like a fluorescent lamp behind a curtain, then a streak of lightning shoots sideways across the sky. A vertical bolt flashes directly to the ground. With eastward movement and night time approaching, there is a point where, from the aeroplane window, the orange sunset is reflected in clouds, yet the darkness of dusk is clearly visible further east beyond the colour. As we near Guadalajara, the thunder storm, at roughly the same altitude as the plane, just adds to this unusual scene.

A few delays en route means a late arrival, so it’s morning before we get our first chance to explore Guadalajara, reputed to be the home of most of the things which we all consider to be typically Mexican. Out in the sun drenched city morning, those images are indeed very clear, the low slung maximum two storey buildings, bright colours of every hue, mariachi musicians in the streets, the smell of food and the strains of music filling every corner.

Teatro Degollado, Guadalajara
Guadalajara Cathedral

But for every manifest of Mexican imagery there is a sizeable chunk of Spanish colonial influence, and the result is intensely pleasing on the eye. And the ear, come to that. Long straight streets lead to wide leafy plazas where glinting water cascades from ornate fountains, imposingly grand twin-towered churches look down on virtually every square, grand palaces stand proudly at the end of the princely boulevards.

Palacio de Gobierno, Guadalajara

Yes, the Spanish influence is as plain as the Mexican culture: indeed a statue of the symbol of Madrid stands tall in a main street, while the mix of architectural styles is extremely attractive. There is, too, a certain pace about Guadalajara, busy but not manic, bustling but not hurried. Pedestrianised streets stretch between the cathedral at one end of the city centre and the Instituto Cabanas at the other, both beautiful majestic buildings, though Guadalajara is full of other buildings equally worthy of those adjectives.

There’s a fair bit of unusual sculpture work around too….

Twice nightly the cathedral facade changes into something rather spectacular, forming the backdrop to a terrific music and light show taking us through the history of Guadalajara, including amongst other things, occupation by the Spanish, construction of the cathedral itself, and ongoing friendship with Madrid. It’s a great show with spectacular animated graphics set to music which is rather akin to Jean-Michel Jarre or Tangerine Dream but with a bit more bass pedal and a bit more drama.

Music really is everywhere, mariachi groups and other buskers in the streets, music in a variety of Latin styles issuing from shops and bars – you don’t walk through Guadalajara, you jig. The mariachi groups are, of course, dressed fittingly in traditional costume, just to add further to the vibe.

Lurking in the list of Guadalajara’s speciality foods is “tortas ahogada”, which translates as “drowned sandwich”, which we sample in the energetic and lively foodhall at the Mercardo San Juan de Dios, the city’s giant covered market. It’s basically a pork salad sandwich, but what it is drowned in is…chilli-tomato sauce. Once we’ve worked out how to pick it up, it’s delicious!

Jose Clemente Orozco is a favourite son of the Jalisco region in which Guadalajara sits. Orozco (1883-1949) is a daddy of muralist art, commissioned to decorate official buildings and blank walls long before the likes of Banksy were plying their trade. The Instituto Cabanas houses an absorbing museum demonstrating his style and methods, a talent where mathematics and geometry meet inspiration and creativity.

Both the Cabanas building and the Palacio Gobierno still sport the fabulous, and huge, works which Orozco was commissioned to create, mostly depicting the histories of Mexico, Jalisco and Guadalajara. These works are utterly stunning, beautifully created and preserved – and far too big to capture completely in a single photograph. 

And so to another Mexican institution which we haven’t yet mentioned….tequila. With the actual town of Tequila, the very origin of the definitive Mexican tipple, a short distance from Guadalajara, it would be irresponsible of us to fail to visit.

As we near the heart of tequila country in the tour minibus, the agave plant from which the tequila is made is the only crop out in the fields, the whole area for miles around submerged in the smokey blue-green of its pointed leaves. Tequila (the town) is a UNESCO designated “magical town” – we had no idea UNESCO had such an accolade.

Tequila town

It is indeed a charming little town, but is completely consumed by the tequila theme and by the tour groups like ours which clearly swamp the place every single day. Our tour is so much fun, taking in two distilleries and a cantarito, a couple of hours spare time to wander the town and grab lunch, and enough tequila to sink a ship. We can’t give much indication as to the volume we consume, but we do know that we tasted 12 different varieties before the memory banks started to malfunction as the tequila in its various forms started to take the place of blood in our veins.

And it’s on this tour that we meet Arturo and Clara from northern Mexico, holidaying in Guadalajara for a week and, like us, immersing themselves in “tequila day”. The four of us continue the theme of the day, supping Mexican beers in a live music bar until suddenly it’s past midnight and the day’s indulgence is catching up with us all.

Like just about every Latin American, Arturo and Clara are expert dancers, and we spend a good part of the evening taking impromptu salsa (and other) lessons between the tables. Michaela learns quickly but my two left feet and lack of rhythm leave Clara just a little bit exasperated despite her very best efforts and admirable patience.

We bid farewell to our new friends with Clara barefoot in the street having broken her shoe at some point and subsequently dumping them in a rubbish bin.

Arturo hugs Michaela, then shakes my hand warmly.

“You don’t look 65”, he says, “but your hair does”.

Agave plant…… source of all the trouble!

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