A sweet colonial town trying to recapture US visitors after the bad old days of narco traffickers fighting for territory. What has happened is that some brave souls (like us) have come, but many more visitors are Mexican from the cities. 
This entire boat was filled with Mexicans. In our boat the on Americans were Beatrice, Chuck and me. The oarsmen seated in the center of each boat were local men used to the very swift current of the river as we traveled downstream, of course.
Once we arived at our destination about three blocks from our hotel we walked though the streets toward the center of town. Miguelangelo pointes our te various citrus trees in the gardens along the way and when we got to a shop where he explained beef was beeing dried for packaging, we were invited inside – I left the group there and found mt way back to Posade Hidlago, I did need dried beef.
One odd and interesting feature of the various exterior covered terraces were the posts. Each was a dead palm tree strangled by the – wait for it – Stangler Fig Tree.
I showed one of these fig trees when we were at the abandoned Hacienda San Miguel, in Batopilas. That one was trying to strangle the wall, but found enough water there to grow to a goodly height.
Kids march to school lead by flags and a music truck. I missed the first phalanx, but managed to capture the rear guard.
daily woodring 