Don Quixote in Guanajuato

Don Quixote rode his bike into Guanajato, with Sancho Panza on the handlebars.

“I remain hopeful,” Don Quixote said, “in the face of cell phones. Still, life demands silence, and people who look about.”

He grabbed a Verizon phone from a teenager with white tipped fingernails and crushed it
beneath his heel.

Sancho said, “But see the beauty here. The winding alleys. The kaleidoscope neighborhoods with pink, rose and yellow houses. The street merchants selling roasted tomatillos, sugarcane and corn. The magpies that chant in the city’s parks. Their cries fill the houses and cars that pass.

“Ugliness is a given. Suffering exists. See joy for a moment.”

“People ignore pain,” Don Quixote said. “See the Huichol women huddled in their rainbow cloaks, heads bowed, hands stretched out like cups for pesos or centavos. You’re becoming too much of a Buddhist with your acceptance of suffering and your be – in – the- beauteous-moment holiness. Look.

“Here are beasts that belch toxic smoke and run spewing down the town’s pathways. They choke children and the sick. How do you justify?I cannot. My two wheels will be superior to their four!” Don Quixote placed his bike helmet firmly on his head.

Sancho sighed with his rolling eyes and slipped from the handlebars. He walked slumped, hands in pockets to a sidewalk café for a Leon beer or four.

“Foul polluter!” Don Juan cried. “Violator of the peoples’ air! Feel their wrath!”

He aimed his lance at lavender Volkswagen bug. Christmas carols flowed, “Parum – pum-pum” in Spanish from its front windows. The Don kicked hard then spun his pedals top speed.

His ten speed flew and bumped over the cobblestone street, shaking Don Quixote’s teeth The lance passed through the right rear window,

narrowly missing a scared golden retriever. It sped through the left window. The driver, a teacher at a local language school screamed and accidentally hit her gas pedal instead of the brake.

The VW screeched forward for a half block then screeched to a quiet stop, hurling Don Quixote forward into a street vendor’s boxes of plantains and oranges. Our hero rose,

scanned the street for his bike which had crashed into a stand that sold Christmas tree bulbs, smashing a dozen red and green ones. Children circled him,

chanting “We need you, Don Quixote!” They crowned him with prickly pear flowers.

The beautiful Mexican town
of Guanajuato is home to the
Don Quixote Museum.


About pelicanguy6

I'm an environmental educator and writer currently based in Oakland, California. I plan to include a hiking/nature journal on this blog, along with articles on environmental education, travel articles, poetry, and spontaneous thoughts. I am a passionate hiker and camper and a world traveler. I really enjoy cooking vegetarian feasts, and specialize in veggie German meals for Oktoberfest.
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