Having decided to ride up to Guadalajara we planned a route which took us on a sweep along the southern shore of Laguna de Chapala, around the western end of the lake then back along the northern shore. We had heard that the town of Chapala, which was only a half hour from the airport at Guadalajara, had become an ex-pat colony for retirees from the USA and Canada. While we don't usually find places like this attractive, it seemed worth a visit to see for ourselves this aspect of modern Mexico.

Although the lake is the largest in Mexico in surface area, it is relatively shallow. Along the north shore, suburbs of new villas were growing, many in gated communities clustered along the main road cheek by jowl with the original villages. The dwellings ranged from modest condominiums to palatial haciendas with prices ranging from about $US80,000 to over $US500,000. We found a hotel in the old centre of the town of Ajijic (Ah he hic) down a difficult cobbled street near the square and, with a little effort, parked Elephant in an unused function room.

While we were manoeuvring the bike, Keith's wonderful kangaroo stickers did their magic and we spoke to a stream of passers-by who stopped to ask if we had really ridden the bike from Australia (the answer is: Sure! It's easy since they put the bridge in!). All were from the USA and Canada and were either residents or thinking about buying in. At first we thought: why not, everyone has to be somewhere, so why not here? But, once we had seen the lake, we were not so sure.

Laguna de Chapala holds only 50% of the water it did a few years ago. The reason for this is the draw of water to supply Guadalajara and several other large cities and the simple fact that dams on the rivers that feed the lake have diverted water for agriculture. Algal bloom around the major towns was also clear evidence of the lack of water flow and phosphate run-off from the growing communities on the shore. The water near the towns was often too polluted for swimming or eating the fish. None of the potential ex-pats mentioned the condition of the lake as a factor in deciding to stay and I am sure that the fancy real estate agents in the main towns would have had plenty of soothing words for any with concerns.

While stopped at Ajijic we decided to alter our route into Guadalajara to take us by the BMW Moto dealer on the way to investigate several hotels in the inner city. Elephant was in need of an oil change and, therefore, an oil filter. Despite the size of this industrial megalopolis navigating to the place was relatively easy thanks to a good freeway and ring-road system and we pulled up outside the front door late on Saturday morning. I went looking for the oil filter and returned to find Jo and Elephant surrounded by interested riders and staff with Jo answering questions in English, Spanish and sign language. No one had seen anything quite like Elephant before. One of our new acquaintances, Luis, recommended that we meet the President of the combined BMW Motorcycle Clubs of Mexico and offered to take us to his house.

Travelling as we do, we tend to accept invitations like this. They often lead to unexpected places and, sometimes, to new and lasting friendships. Luis' BMW six (called The Sexy) was getting a new tyre so he borrowed a new BMW 800 from the dealership (not hard when you are the boss) and led us off through the streets of Guadalajara and on to the family home of Ernesto. We had barely dismounted from Elephant before we were offered a bed if we wanted to stay. It was an offer we had accepted before we had undone our helmet straps and stowed our gloves. Any thoughts of a city centre hotel were banished.

What followed were three magical days in a loving family home with Ernesto, Andrea and their five children. Like many at our stage of life, we miss the family life we had when our own children were young so it was a real treat to be welcomed into another family even if it was only for a few days. And what busy days they were!

Guadalajara is not a tourist city. It is a sinewy, muscular, commercial and industrial city, traditionally the most important on the West Coast. It is now a centre for electronics manufacture. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, the city centre was a treat of monumental buildings and beautiful plazas packed to bursting with Christmas shoppers. We charged about trying to see as much as possible before finding our way back to a family dinner. Our Sunday was mad charge around the less easily found features led by Martín, who was charged by Luis with our Guadalajara education.

There were many delightful places on our rampaging tour but one stop was, for me, a show-stopper. We visited the gallery of Guadalajaran sculptor and artist Sergio Bustamante in the satellite suburb of Tlaquepaque. I have included several photos of Bustamante's work which, hopefully, convey something of its style and beauty.

As we rolled out of Guadalajara on the 300 km ride to our Christmas stop on the coast we felt both excited and privileged. If some high authority in the central government had conspired to deliver us the perfect ambassadors for Mexico they could not have done better. Our seduction by this beautiful place was complete.