mOOners in Mexico

by Kris

To this day sunsets and all things bright and colorful remind me of "Grandpa Bunny", my favorite childhood book. The story is about Granpa Bunny and all the bunnies of the most wonderfully hued village and forest.

Grandpa Bunny teaches the family the value of beauty and is always surrounded by the little bunnies eager to hear his stories. The bunnies spend their time with paint pots and brushes happily coloring the flowers of spring and summer and the leaves of autumn. One day Grandpa Bunny gathers all the little ones around and tells them a secret. Grandpa Bunny goes away and the mama and papa bunnies are sad but the wee ones know everything is fine and are happy because every evening Grandpa Bunny paints the most wonderful sunsets for them.

(Duffie loves the colors of Aunt Keely's garden and hopes a real bunny will appear...)

 
I love that Mexico is full of color; the flowers spilling out of the gardens, the vegetables and fruits beautifully displayed in the markets, the bright and cheery paints on the buildings, the house-side shrines to the Virgin Guadalupe, and certainly the mesmerizing sunsets. I see the hand of Grandpa Bunny everywhere I look.

 

 

 

Grandpa Bunny's lesson is that when we are gone part of us remains. Our family's favorite Grandma Bunny left us this week.

 

She was as lively and colorful as the most vibrant of Grandpa Bunny's creations. She will be missed like crazy and remembered with love and laughter.

Grandma Bunny, this sunset's for you.

by Kris

Border to Chapala

I realize I left the story of the second half of our trip, from the U.S. border to Lago de Chapala, hanging like a badly dangling participle. Being a totally random person this is my norm, but the sequential people I know wonder how we arrived at our destination. In an effort to start the New Year without loose ends, "here is the rest of the story"....with apologies to Paul Harvey (Is Paul Harvey still alive?)

Our normal route into Mexico is via Southern California to the crossing at Nogales, Arizona. We chose to avoid the still burning fires in L.A. and San Diego and head into the interior rather than the coast of Mexico. We drove south east toward an El Paso, Texas into Ciudad Juarez, Mexico border entry that wasn't high on our list of fun things to do. Large border towns are NOT the Mexico we enjoy and in our experience reading RV forums like RV Net and talking to fellow travelers, these heavily populated and intimidating cities are the reason many RV'ers won't consider travel South of the Border. Our advice to them is to enter through smaller towns, complete your vehicle and personal documentation, and get the heck out of Dodge. Real Mexico with wonderful experiences awaits beyond the city limits.

One option for a smaller, easier crossing is forty a couple miles south of Deming, New Mexico (very close to the Texas state line) in the little known port of entry (mixing sailing and land cruising metaphors) of  Palomas, Chihuahua, Mexico. Fortunately, at a gas station in this interesting high desert town, someone suggested this crossing route and we were saved the stress and time of driving through two large cities to enter Mexico.

Palomas is a wonderful place to begin a Mexican adventure. We were waved through with nary a second glance and a friendly local gentleman greeted us as we parked our F-350 dually and Bigfoot camper combo on the main street. Our new amigo was also our guide through the documentation process. The first stop was the Oficina de Migracion for our six month Tarjetas de Turistas (the other kind of turistas) with our passports in hand as proof of US citizenship. We copied our birth certificates, passports, drivers licenses, truck ownership and Mexican insurance papers, and Duffie's health certificate prior to leaving California - I think this was a disappointment to the fellow at the second stop of the process who wanted to copy (5 pesos per copy) all of our paperwork but only got to copy our tourist cards. Last step of the protocol involved making a credit card payment of $30 and receiving the hologram for the truck to show we're legally cruising the country. For six months we can go anywhere we desire - what a great deal! And the business of documenting us and the truck took maybe twenty minutes.

Not wanting to waste one moment more of our six months, we thanked (and tipped) our guide/amigo (he thanked us with little packets of candy), said goodbye, and hit the road toward the cut-off Hwy 2 eastward to Mex 45, south of Ciudad Juarez. There were many cuotas (tolls) from this point to Zacatecas, and the roads Mex 45 to Jimenez and Mex 49 through Gomez-Palacio and Fresnillo were fine; quite often 4 lane or 3 lane, with one for passing. The cuotas, which cost $92US this trip (each toll depends on the section of road, size of vehicle, and number of axles/wheels and maybe the mood of the toll taker) are worth the money. They're in better condition, faster, and less stressful on the rig and the travelers.

Our truck is diesel powered and the price at every Pemex station (Gov't run and one price--no matter the location) was $2.11US per gallon (cutting through the price per liter to the amount you'll recognize and wonder how the heck they do it - and why can't the U.S. and Canada.) They have attendants of every age and size and shape who pump the fuel and provide friendly interaction. I drove to Puerto Vallarta in '73 (very young!) and we carried extra fuel because stations were few and v-e-r-y far between and not what you'd call the best quality. Pemex is definitely an improvement. The company has pretty reliable fuel and most stations have diesel (the black pump not the green we're familiar with in the states) which takes more stress out of driving cross country. The stations are reasonably clean and spaced frequently enough that you'd have to be a real chuckle-head to run out of fuel. Pemex stations are also typically large and safe which makes them a reputable stop-over sanctuary for RV'ers between campgrounds; a scenario which takes us to our first night in Mexico, just north of Chihuahua.  We'd traveled 470 miles - 280 of them South of the Border - and the sun had long since set beyond the the purple-y desert mountains to the west. The allure of the local Pemex with overnight parking, enough truck traffic to make it feel safe but not too much to be noisy, and a grassy area to walk Duffie, was welcoming.

More welcoming Saturday morning was the sight of dozens of hot air balloons in all phases of flight as we approached the city of Chihuahua. The reds, blues, yellows and other colors against the dawning sky was a spectacular beginning for our day of travel. I buy into the theory that balloons mean parties which equals fun. These larger than life hot-air-filled wonders must mean larger than life good times ahead.

 

Day two was another long drive of 534 miles. The scenery continued to be high desert with surrounding mountains, small farms, and towns with friendly faces waving us through. We wanted to get as far south as reasonably possible to have a shorter drive through Guadalajara, and a Sunday - not weekday commuting traffic experience - at that.

Toward the end of the day we approached the beautiful colonial mining city of Zacatecas. The city is built in a "bowl" between two mountains and is definitely a "don't miss" site unless you're in a dual-wheeled wide body truck with a ten and a half foot Bigfoot camper.  The local law states such vehicles are not invited to town and may be ticketed. Maybe next trip...
We retired for the evening at another Pemex (the Mexican version of over-nighting in Wal-Mart parking lots) in a quieter location  than the previous night's accommodation. This station, south of the turn-off to the forbidden city, Zacatecas, had a different though familiar and home-y name, Gasolinera Sacramento.

Sunday morning we had our customary and delicious french press coffee and got an early start - a dark start. We drove after dark the first two nights and this morning - not what the books, forums, and common sense suggest -  but we felt completely comfortable in the areas driven. It was sunrise and a cool one at that as we entered one of the many small towns along this route, Highway 54, to Guadalajara.The bells were ringing to call the faithful to mass and the faithful this near freezing dawn were the beautiful elderly women walking from all directions and many distances to the warmth and comfort of the church. The mothers and grandmothers were dressed in skirts and shawls with tightly wrapped scarves protecting their character-filled faces from the bitter cold. How blessed are the families and neighbors of dedicated women like these?

We drove through beautiful country with lakes, acres of regal blue agave mixed with corn and other crops, and pastures with cows, horses, sheep, and goats. It was a new side of Mexico for us; not the tropical greenery of the coastline south of Mazatlan, or the high and semi-barren landscape of the previous two days; but at times a combination of both. The towns we drove through were very clean, very well maintained, and the pride of the locals was evident. It was a very enjoyable day on the road.

 

 

The last twenty miles before entering Guadalajara are memorable for the canyon we drove down into and up and out of with many twists and turns. The traffic we'd not seen all day materialized as we approached the top of the canyon; indicative of the congestion over the hill inhabited by the 4 million citizens of Mexico's second largest city.

Navigational needs took precedent over photographic endeavors (plus it was smoggy..) as we made our way through and around the city with maps, street signs, and incredible good fortune. We avoid city travel, if possible, but often there is no option. The Sunday traffic, though busy, had good pace and flow and surprisingly we were on the south side aimed toward Chapala in forty-five minutes.

We entered the most eastern of the northshore "Lakeside" towns, Chapala, a short time later and a world away from the fumes and brownish air of Guadalajara. What a relief to see blue sky!

Driving along the "carretera" or main highway that connects the villages of Lake Chapala we caught colorful glimpses of casas, churches, and shops lining the cobble stone streets leading down to the lake-shore. And people were everywhere - moving at the speed of sociability. Much to see and do and many faces to meet.

That's why we're still here two months later.

mOOners 

by Kris

Missing family (friends, too!) is the only down-side to our adventuring lifestyle. Home is where our blended Brady Bunch of six kids and their families gather for Christmas Eve dinner and we were pleased to have the tradition continue in our absence. Our kids are friends beyond siblings, and the grandbabies are great and fun cousins to each other - a blessing for which we're grateful.

We're also grateful for the technology that enables us to keep in touch with our loved ones while we're on the road. We utilize a satellite (SatMex 5), Apple Mac (with built-in camera), HP Photosmart R967 digital camera, and Skype on-line computer to computer (or computer to phone) service for our audio/visual face to face fixes.

We had a trial run with the goofies...

Duffie didn't miss a chance to see his kids....

On Christmas Eve, combining  family and technology, we joined the festivities at home in Orangevale, California, from two thousand miles away in Roca Azul, Mexico.

(Names are omitted to protect the innocent and those in the witness protection program.)

Seeing the beautiful and happy faces we love and hearing the sounds of their good time was almost as much fun as being there.

How sweet is that?

mOOners 

by Kris

There's a moment each holiday season that defines my Christmas and becomes my special gift; an event or remembrance that is, to me, the joy of the season. Last year my joyful moment happened as Ken and I shopped for the Christmas Eve dinner. I looked up from the refrigerator case of fresh turkeys to see a beautiful older woman. Her resemblance to my late and much adored grandmother, Eileen, who died a week before Christmas 2002 and her 94th birthday, was amazing and slightly overwhelming. My heart took over and I explained my wonder and excitement to this attractive and surprised stranger and asked if she would mind a hug. She seemed thrilled to hug me back and we shared a warm and fulfilling embrace in front of God, Ken, a mountain of packaged poultry, and more than a few surprised shoppers. That was my Christmas Gift; one of the best ever.

Grandma Eileen, my first grandchild, Brody, and me August 1999.

This year, our first away from home and family, we've experienced many sights and sounds that have brought the spirit of the season to my heart. My Christmas Gift, mi regalo Navidad, came unexpectedly late one afternoon as we approached the gate to Roca Azul.

We saw a costumed gathering of children of all ages, accompanied as always, by beaming parents and grandmothers. Our arrival coincided with the beginning of a Posada, the re-enactment of the journey of Mary and Joseph to find lodging for the birth of the Baby Jesus. Posadas occur in neighborhoods throughout Mexico with the processions turned away at homes time and again until the ninth day of the celebration and the final stop representing the stable in Bethlehem.

We drove ahead and situated ourselves to watch and listen. We didn't expect to see a Posada in Roca, a small and quiet residential area of mostly ex-pat retirees. The neighborhood was silent with no awareness of the procession as it moved toward us.

We watched in awe and listened with pleasure as the young Joseph and Mary and their companions sang a traditional Posada song and laughed with each other, obviously enjoying themselves and the honor of portraying Jose y Maria y compadres.They all smiled at us - four very surprised and happy foreigners - somewhat shyly, as the beautiful Mexican children do. They turned around when they passed by, gave us another chance for photographs, and walked out the gate.

We had our own Posada; our special holiday experience and my Christmas gift in this wonderful country that has no shortage of warmth and magic. 

mOOners 

by Kris

Hummingbirds are addictive. We enjoyed viewing their antics at the familiar red feeder outside the huge living room window at Ken's parents during the summer. Many an evening they were more entertaining than the Giants' game. Our Roca Azul neighbors, Chuck and Gigi, have a hummingbird feeder attached to their 5th wheel rv and their mildly frenzied feeding activity warranted an installation at our end of the park. We searched locally for a beberador, and found one for $22. Yikes, we'd have to be loco in the cabeza to pay that. A trip to the Wal-mart in Guadalajara paid off with the purchase of a nifty little feeder for $10, well worth the $10 it cost to drive there - we are nothing if not savvy shoppers.  In the excitement we forgot to buy sugar (we are nothing if not forgetful) but rv'ers are a generous lot and Gigi sponsored our first batch of nectar.
We hung the feeder outside our kitchen window and immediately it was a happening spot. At first glance our Lago de Chapala hummers (is that the proper abbrev.?) appeared to be a rather bland variety. Now that they are more relaxed with our activities and Duffie's, they hover longer and their iridescent colors are more noticeable and pretty darned fancy.

 

I felt like a bad mother when the flock buzzed around the camper yesterday morning and pointed toward the empty feeder. Hummingbirds are not the most patient of God's creatures and the time it took to brew, cool, and fill the feeder was evidently TOO long. If the response of the three little cuties who landed immediately and taste-tasted the fresh nectar was indicative, it's good stuff.

mOOners