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Travel: Mazatlan outside the Zona Dorada

Built by European traders, the city offers culture and adventure beyond the beaches
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"Second biggest rooster farm in Mexico - 4,000 birds," said my guide Julio, on our approach through the town of El Quelite, 40 kilometres north of Mazatlan.

And while the farm sells roosters for breeding, it also trains and markets birds for cockfighting - still legal in Mexico and popular in these Sierra Madre Mountains.

Our van stopped beside a dirt pen or cockpit. Two men took two birds from their cages, and then wriggled "guante" (gloves) onto the claws to prevent serious injury as the birds' strutted their stuff.

"It's illegal for them to have a blade (attached to their legs)," continued Julio, while remaining vague as to whether blades or some other kind of metal spurs are used in actual cockfights. This would be a demonstration only.

The handlers, each holding a bird, placed them head to head, stoking what is apparently a natural aggression of male cocks, and then placed them down on the ground. The birds whirled and attacked - with a vengeance and non-stop. Feathers flew.

"A good rooster will cost you 1,500 (pesos) and up," said Julio when it was over and the birds were returned to their cages. "People come here to buy roosters because they know they're going to fight to the death."

That afternoon we dined in this red-tile-roofed town at El Meson Los Laureanos, an authentic country restaurant named for "the band of bandits" that roamed the region during its gold and silver-mining heyday of the 1700s.

For me it was all evidence that there's more to the region of Mazatlan - a Pacific coastal city of about 400,000 - than sun, sand and Senor Frog's.

On another day we drove to the region of La Noria, known for its leather workers, where I signed on for the Huana Coa Canopy Adventure. Every bit as safety conscious, entertaining (hip staffers with dry jokes) and pricey ($75) as any zipline, this one took us by all-terrain vehicle into a pristine forest, then through a series of nine traverses of varying length, ending with a vertical descent from a towering Huanacaxtle tree.

I worked hard at arriving at each platform without braking excessively (by pulling down on the line with my leather-mitted hand), or falling short of the landing, in which case you had to hoist yourself in. Afterwards, at a roadside café, I ordered "molcajete" - a bowl shaped from volcanic lava filled with steaming shrimp - and a cold beer.

Mazatlecos, as the locals are called, are quick to point out that theirs is not a colonial city - meaning it didn't grow directly out of the 15 th century Spanish Conquest. Rather, it was largely built by subsequent European traders, like the German pioneers who founded the major Pacifico Brewery here around 1800.

Today most tourists stay in the modern hotel district in the north of the city known as the Zona Dorada. From there a seaside road called the Malecon runs back into the Centro Historico, where neo-classical buildings that date to the mid-1800s have been restored - with wrought-iron grills and patios, carved wooden doors, old-world lanterns and decorative tiles - as up-to-date homes, shops, restaurants and cultural institutions.

Businesswoman Beatriz and I dined at the Restaurant Bahia on seafood ceviche, grilled octopus, squid stuffed with crab, and a mahi-mahi in a delicious green sauce. Then I ambled though the Parque Zaragoza, along narrow cobble streets with names like "5 de Mayo" and "Hidalgo," and restored buildings painted, maybe, a turquoise or bright green.

A cathedral with a cheerfully scalloped façade and twin spires in lemon yellow dominates the Plaza Principal. Street musicians played flute music in the square while shoeshine men languished in their chairs. A mercado, filled with butchers, fishmongers and other vendors, is located nearby. But the jewel in this historic district is the Plazuela Machado, a few blocks to the south.

Dotted with palm trees and surrounded by ornate buildings with patio restaurants, Plazuela Machado is lovely anytime. But at night, illuminated by thousands of tiny whte lights, it comes into its own. Live music ranges from jazz through the European-inspired local music called Banda Sinaloaese. One evening, over a crisp white wine and luscious stuffed chicken breast at the restaurant called Domitila, I caught a Cuban-Mexican fusion band made up of students from a nearby arts college.

Just off the Plazuela Machado nestles the 136-year-old Angela Peralta Theater, named for a beloved soprano - "the Mexican Nightingale" - who died on a visit here in 1883. What is really a small opera house, fully restored, now supports a range of live performances, some during annual festivals that attract artists from around the world.

Another way to experience this Centro Historico is to join the Art Walk on the first Friday of each month, November through May. "You get to know the houses from the inside, and meet people in their cultural environment," said a young local historian.

It was a short taxi ride back to my Casa Lucila, above the Malecon. Originally a German mansion, then a jazz spot frequented by the likes of Ernest Hemingway and John Wayne, this fine hillside house was recently opened as an eight-room boutique hotel.

My room overlooked the original Mazatlan beach, the Playa Olas Altas, towards a distant barren island - perfectly framed by a large window. It seemed a mercifully long way from the touristy Zone Dorada.