The town of Sahuayo is 10 miles south of Lake Chapalan, which is the largest freshwater lake in Mexico. Unfortunately, industrial pollution from Gaudalajara, the second biggest city in Mexico, has heavily polluted it with industrial waste. Gaudalajara is on the other side of the lake. Sahuayo has 60,000 people but two universities. So it’s like a Mexican college town. I saw plenty of young peeple walking around on the first night. Ricardo told me he loved all the “muchachas” here. Part of the city is built on a hill. A
t the top, it abruptly ends. There is no sprawl. Coming into town, visitors are greeted with McDonald’s, several car dealerships, auto repair shops, and a huge bodega (grocery store). It looks like one of those ugly towns along America’s interstates. The main highway bifurcates the city. The east side is very ritzy, with plenty of posh homes with gates, and an army of workers tending their gardens. The west side is where the central plaza, and the main cathedral is. It’s the city’s tallest building and it’s clearly visible frum the south of the city. If you want to know what Sahuayo feels like, without actually coming here, then I suggest you walk through an Hispanic quarter of a city. Powerlines hang above the streets and the buildings aren’t as well-maintained. It’s certainly not elegant, but not dilapidated. For entertainment the people like to sit in front of their homes or shops and tell stories. During the day, they like to congregate at the marketplace or at the central plaza. My apartment is on a Insurgentes St. It’s two blocks south of the main plaza. Restaurants, street vendors and a couple pharmacies surround the plaza. Just south of the plaza is the marketplace. This is where I found all the produce that I need during the week. There’s no shortage of melons such as cantaloupe, watermelon, and papayas. The traditional staples such as oranges, apples, and peaches, are at almost every stand. Some vendors sell dry beans, spices, candy, or baked goods. There wasn’t much meat at the market, other then shrimp and full chickens. It truly feels like an old world market. The vendors start talking as soon as you stand for a moment in front of their booth. They weigh the food and then tell you how much. Prices are elastic. If you don’t have as much as they want, they usually give you the food anyway. Either they’re very nice, or they give you an initial higher price. I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.The whole city shuts down at 3:00 or 4:00 in the afternoon, at least on weekends. I wanted to buy strawberries (16 pesos per kilogram), but it was 3:30, and the vendors had had enough. I noticed that most of the other stores had closed as well. I could only go to the local pharmacy to find anything. The joyerias (jewelry stores), zapaterias (shoe stores), and ferreterias (hardware stores), had all closed. The only noises in the city were the motorcycles. People get around mainly by walking but a lot of people own mopeds. They don’t bother to wear helmets, or stop for pedestrians. This is bad because they are sacrificing safety. This is good because it shows peeple know what’s best for themselves and know what’s a reasonable risk. As long as people understand the rules, nobody cares. The streets are usually one way and narrow. Old vans take people to where they need to go. Vendors sometimes ride a bike with a carriage attached to the back to sell their goods. Some men walk around with bread (pan) in their baskets. My room mate Erika and my head teacher, Cecilia, both told me this area was safe. I believe them now. While I’m still hesitant to walk down some streets, for the most part I don’t have to worry. At least no more than in Washington, D.C.
t the top, it abruptly ends. There is no sprawl. Coming into town, visitors are greeted with McDonald’s, several car dealerships, auto repair shops, and a huge bodega (grocery store). It looks like one of those ugly towns along America’s interstates. The main highway bifurcates the city. The east side is very ritzy, with plenty of posh homes with gates, and an army of workers tending their gardens. The west side is where the central plaza, and the main cathedral is. It’s the city’s tallest building and it’s clearly visible frum the south of the city. If you want to know what Sahuayo feels like, without actually coming here, then I suggest you walk through an Hispanic quarter of a city. Powerlines hang above the streets and the buildings aren’t as well-maintained. It’s certainly not elegant, but not dilapidated. For entertainment the people like to sit in front of their homes or shops and tell stories. During the day, they like to congregate at the marketplace or at the central plaza. My apartment is on a Insurgentes St. It’s two blocks south of the main plaza. Restaurants, street vendors and a couple pharmacies surround the plaza. Just south of the plaza is the marketplace. This is where I found all the produce that I need during the week. There’s no shortage of melons such as cantaloupe, watermelon, and papayas. The traditional staples such as oranges, apples, and peaches, are at almost every stand. Some vendors sell dry beans, spices, candy, or baked goods. There wasn’t much meat at the market, other then shrimp and full chickens. It truly feels like an old world market. The vendors start talking as soon as you stand for a moment in front of their booth. They weigh the food and then tell you how much. Prices are elastic. If you don’t have as much as they want, they usually give you the food anyway. Either they’re very nice, or they give you an initial higher price. I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt.The whole city shuts down at 3:00 or 4:00 in the afternoon, at least on weekends. I wanted to buy strawberries (16 pesos per kilogram), but it was 3:30, and the vendors had had enough. I noticed that most of the other stores had closed as well. I could only go to the local pharmacy to find anything. The joyerias (jewelry stores), zapaterias (shoe stores), and ferreterias (hardware stores), had all closed. The only noises in the city were the motorcycles. People get around mainly by walking but a lot of people own mopeds. They don’t bother to wear helmets, or stop for pedestrians. This is bad because they are sacrificing safety. This is good because it shows peeple know what’s best for themselves and know what’s a reasonable risk. As long as people understand the rules, nobody cares. The streets are usually one way and narrow. Old vans take people to where they need to go. Vendors sometimes ride a bike with a carriage attached to the back to sell their goods. Some men walk around with bread (pan) in their baskets. My room mate Erika and my head teacher, Cecilia, both told me this area was safe. I believe them now. While I’m still hesitant to walk down some streets, for the most part I don’t have to worry. At least no more than in Washington, D.C. 
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