I forgot to mention. There was actually one interesting thing I found in San Antonio. I came across Arthur Magazine, a national indie magazine. Like Farehenheit (no idea how to spell that), but stretching from coast to coast. Why Dolly Parton is on the cover and why it was laying around in San Antonio but is not in San Diego I don’t know.

Laura and I are without money. We have plastic, but these little cards with magnetic strips aren’t working so well. The banks think that they have been stolen. Maybe we should stop buying so much tequila and frequenting brothels …

The plan was to leave Zacatecas last night, but after driving up La Bufa (where the famous Toma de Zacatecas took place during the revolution) and checking out the museos and iglesias, we decided to spend another night. “We’ll leave early tomorrow morning,” we said.

Found a hostal for $12 with our own bathroom and a run down spanish colonial house. The owner was a short small boned Chilango with the old bitter man image down perfectly. I was tired and wanted nothing more than a bed to lay down on so I waited as Laura went back and forth between the two available bedrooms inspecting square footage and feng shui. She changed her mind three times and finally picked the room with less light but more space.

Then, the two of us lying under the sheets … trying to warm up the bed … and she has this terrified look on her face.

“Que onda” (what is it)
“Nada” (nothing)
“Bueno …” and I tried to snuggle in close for a little siesta. But I looked back at her face and her eyes were huge, her eyebrows tense.

“Que?”
“Nada … es que … no sientes como … algo extrano?” (Nothing … it’s just … you don’t feel anything strange in here?)
“Algo como?” (like what?)
“Es que yo se que algo paso aqui” (It’s that I know that something happened here)

She wasn’t talking about someone taking a shit. We’ve talked about ghosts before. She’s seen them, I don’t believe in them. It’s one of the very few discords in our relationship.

“Entonces, porque hay escaladeras alla?” (Then why are there stairs there?)

She had a point - there were stairs leading to absolutely nowhere. A shiver went up my spine and I explained, “don’t be stupid, it’s cause the stairs used to go to the next room but the hostal owner wanted to keep the rooms seperate to have more guests.”

She said that she also sensed that something happened near the mirror. The mirror was cracked and I was thinking to myself that she’s seen too many Disney movies.

The truth is, I was an asshole. I ridiculed and explained away every feeling she had. Later that night, up on the terrace while she was looking out on the lighted domed cathedral, I came behind and scared her. She nearly jumped off the balcony she was so frightened.

Later that night she was more quiet than usual and suggested I was being a little insensitive. I apologized. But I was frustrated. She was angry because I didn’t believe what she was saying. But how could I simultaneously believe her while I don’t believe in ghosts? I felt like this was a point of disagreement that we will have to burden for the rest of our time together.

I explained this to her and she said that I don’t have to believe in ghosts, but that I should be respectful.

We enjoyed our walk through the lampost lit cobblestone alleys and callejones of el centro historico and then returned to the hostal with some stale mantecados from the panaderia.

The next morning, cold and overcast, the grumpy owner of the hostal insisted on giving us a tour of the establisment. He tried not to appear excited as he meticulously told us every detail of how he planned to fix the place up. He also kept throwing in how much he hated gueros y gringos. I asked him why. “Because they support their government.” I still don’t know if that statement is true. If you watch Fox News I guess yeah, if you listen to NPR, maybe not.

Anyway, I didn’t know if he was trying to subtly take a stab at me or if he honestly didn’t know I was American. (the former woulda made me a little upset, the latter, a little proud - tho don’t know why)

I knew the entire time … I was just waiting … that Laura was going to ask him if anyone had ever seen ghosts in the hostal. Before she even could though, the owner showed us the last room (across the hall from ours) and explained that the mother of the previous owner had died there. He said a guest once stayed there and couldn’t stop crying the entire night. She beamed proudly with that “see I told you” look. I tried to beam back with a sarcastic, “what the hell are you talking about, this isn’t the room we stayed in” look but it had no affect.

That was her cue so she asked why there are stairs in the room we stayed in. He explained that they led to the room next door, but that he wanted to partition the rooms. I tried to give my “see i told you so” look, but she went straight to asking about the mirror and he explained that it belonged to the room across the hall and that even though it is broken he won’t throw it away because it has “an energy.”

I couldn’t believe it. Laura was absolutely beaming. And I didn’t want to talk about it. We had lunch at Vips and left Zacatecas around 4 this afternoon as the rainclouds started to move in.