Off on another trip. The drive to the airport parking lot was uneventful, parking was fine, and the drive to the terminal was short. The people checking in at US Airways seemed a bit confused. There were check-in kiosks and an unexpected $15 fee for each checked bag. We finally charged our bag costs and checked in.There were two long lines going up to the desks where they checked boarding passes against photo ID. But they opened up two more lines while we were waiting, and we got to take off our shoes more quickly.
We had to wait an hour and a half to board, so I got a coffee and read our papers. Tony Hillerman had died the day before, which was sad. I didn’t read much of the article since it just covered pretty much what I had read in his memoir “Seldom Disappointed.”
The flight left a little early for Phoenix and arrived a little early. No free sodas or peanuts any more on US Airways. And no beer or wine in New Mexico after a passenger had gotten off their aircraft, picked up his car, and run it into several people in another car on an interstate, killing them.
In Phoenix we had beer and some chips and salsa to while away the time for the second leg of the trip. On both legs the planes had six seats across, and Sue had booked aisle seats for us. On both flights I dozed some. Old age. There were pillows on each flight, and I asked Sue what the charge was for a pillow if we used them.
After a ten-minute wait in San Diego, our bags started arriving at the carousel. We found ours and went out to the taxi stand, since the hotel did not offer any transportation. The driver put our bags in the trunk, and we were off. Sue noticed that the GPS the driver was using was not in English and asked him where he was from. He said Ukraine. He was obviously a new taxi driver because he didn’t know where he was supposed to go and asked us for a map. We didn’t have any, and Sue read off the vague directions from our material. He got us up to Balboa Park [1,200 acres], which the hotel was near, and turned right. We were looking for Spruce Street, and the streets had tree names. After four blocks he turned around and started back. Our street was a half dozen or so back the other way. I gave him $15 for the $13.50 on the meter.
When we got to our room, we were amazed. There were two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen with dining area! We’d never even had a rental apartment this big. The fans were all on, since there was no air conditioning in San Diego, and it was rather warm.
Since it was an hour before our first meeting, we took a short walk in the park. It was rather pleasant, with some kids running nearby, green trees, and an occasional cool breeze.
At five o’clock we went up to the seventh floor to meet our Road Scholar group. There were 14 of us plus a talkative young woman who was our guide for the day. Sue and I each got a glass of wine at $5 a glass. Bill, one of the men had gone to school at Pingry in Elizabeth, NJ. We had lived near Pingry, and Sue’s brother had graduated from there. Bill, also, had dated girls that Sue knew. Marion’s father had gone to Park School in Buffalo, where we had taught for nine years. Quite amazing.
Our guide told us in detail what was written on our material—what we would do each day. Dinner was quite good: chicken on rice with broccoli, preceded by a spinach salad.
Our evening speaker did not make it, so we were showed a taped show of Copper Canyon. The picture was poor, and I found it rather boring.
Breakfast wasn’t much, just orange juice, bagels, English muffins, and coffee. I took a short walk in the park and was back for our 9 o’clock departure. Our plane was leaving later than it had been originally scheduled, so we were driven through the park and then through parts of the city. All this looked like park and city to me. We left the hotel at 9:30 and arrived at the airport at 11:30. Our guide Esther talked for the entire two hours.
To get to the airport, we crossed the border, which did not take long; Esther got off the bus and talked to the Mexican officials for a short time. Getting back into the U.S. was much more time consuming. We could see the long, long line of cars inching up to the booths. Esther said that at the busiest times it could take four hours to get through. Fortunately we weren’t returning that way. Esther lived in Ensenada and crossed the border three or four times a week.
Tijuana (pronounced tee-hwan-ah) is the typical giant Mexican city with several million inhabitants. We drove past the McDonalds, Home Depots, and Starbucks, plus some local businesses. As we approached the airport, we drove along the fences separating Mexico and the U.S. There are now two fences, with a third coming soon. The first fence isn’t much, but the second is about twelve feet high with curled razor wire at the top. The fences continued down into the ocean.
Esther had said that Mexico gets a lot from the U.S. garbage. Electrical items that are cheaper for us to replace than repair are brought down there, repaired, and sold for reasonable prices.
Out of the bus, we picked up our bags and congregated in the airport, which looked quite new. Esther had forgotten our airline tickets in her back pack and had phoned her husband, who got them to the airport in time. Esther watched our bags while we visited the rest rooms. We filled out forms, which Esther collected and took to a kiosk where she paid money, $20 a person, to get them OKed. Then she collected passports and went off to get them OKed. This took 45 to 60 minutes. I went off and bought some pesos. As we walked through the airport later, I found I hadn’t found the cheapest exchange place. But I had paid only $100 for 1100 pesos.
Eventually we got to wheel our bags in to get checked. There were two bag checkers. They would open the top, pat the clothing and sometimes the space between the clothing and the side of the bag, close the bag and seal it with a plastic strip that had to be cut off when you wanted to get back in it. I happened to be right there and put my lock on the bag, so the bag checker saved one plastic strip.
Everyone’s bag was eventually checked. Esther said goodbye to us and was handing us over to the airline person who would get us on the right plane when she remembered to give us our lunch money, which turned out to be 100 pesos each.
We walked to the other end of the airport and went through security without taking our shoes off. One of the women had a pair of scissors that she had forgotten to pack, so our guide had to take the scissors back to the baggage check-in station, while we stood around waiting, and put them in someone’s bag.
After that was all settled, a walk back to the other side of the building brought us to our lunch spot. Sue and I split a chicken torta and each had a beer.
At flight time, we got down to the loading gate. We were put into two lines, depending on where we were seated, and we walked out to the plane not far from the gate. The plane to Los Mochis was full and had two seats on each side of the aisle. I was seated with another woman from our group, but she was not a talker. I read and dozed for the one hour forty five minute flight. The clouds were all off on the horizon, but the air was not clear. We flew over the Bay of Cortez, passing a few islands. The drinks were free on this foreign aircraft, and I had water and some nuts.
The usual wait for bags. Sue’s was the next to last bag. A man at the door was checking bags against tickets, but our group went through with no check. Carlos was waiting for us with a large bus, and, after stowing our bags, we visited the rest room and were off for an almost two-hour ride to El Fuerte. The drive took us through Los Mochis, which is in the center of an agricultural district. We had seen from the aircraft the flat plain with squares of different vegetables and fruit. Most of their product is sent to the U.S. and other foreign markets. The area had originally grown sugar cane and processed it in the city. Now it was carrots and strawberries.
There were homes along the road. Some of them had doors. A few were painted blue or pink, but most of them were plain stucco or cement blocks. People were sitting in chairs outside their homes under trees and shade structures. The sun was going down, and some seemed to be eating outside on card tables. Lots of small children were running around. There were cars and trucks, most from the U.S. but none of them recently made. Some were traded for, and I’m sure some were stolen.
Around 6:15 we arrived in El Fuerte at the Posada del Hidalgo. We were given our room keys, and we creaked our way off the bus. A long ramp ran up to the hotel with a boy of about six leading us to our room. He asked, “Llave?” which means key, and I said “Cinco.” It is a good thing we weren’t in room seven. The lad took us in the room and turned on the air conditioner, which I took for a heater at first since it was on an inside wall.
After he left we used the bathroom, only to find the floor covered in water. Sue went into the hall and flagged down a hotel employee. The employee took a look and called another employee. He took a look and said it probably couldn’t be fixed that night and that we would have to be moved to another room. Carlos showed up and said the hotel was full and that we would probably be moved to a room off the street. However, someone replaced a pipe under the sink, and that stopped the water running.
At seven we were in the dining room where the entrée was excellent black bass. We were given complimentary margaritas, and I had a very nice glass of wine for $6.
I slept fairly well, but was bitten several times by gnats, which were quite a problem the next day.
We were up at six, showered, and went to breakfast. A large group was leaving after breakfast, and we had to wait for them to go through the line. This was a real breakfast, with bacon, scrambled eggs, fruit, yogurt, and coffee. They also served eggs-and-bacon, oatmeal, dry cereal, and several other dishes. Three women behind the bar dished it out.
We were out in time, but the drivers were not. Two SUVs were transporting us. When the drivers arrived, they decided that our van had a tire that need air, which it did indeed. Ten minutes or so later the van was back, and we drove to the river bank.
Three large, yellow rafts were on the shore waiting for us. Life vests were handed out, and we climbed into the rafts from the shore.
Our skipper did a little rowing while we floated downstream. The water was smooth, with an occasional little rough spot. The sun was shining, the birds were flying around. There were caracaras, herons, and several hawks. We had been loaned a small, laminated sheet with photos of the birds. Kathy was with us and spoke Spanish to our skipper. He had been doing this job for about seven years, three days a week, for the hotel.After 25 minutes or so we landed and started to walk inland. A man from the hotel talked about several trees and bushes that we passed. Some were medicinal, some made good charcoal. The goal of this stop was a small set of rock carvings on a few large rocks sticking out of the grass. They were not well preserved, and the explanation that was given of their meaning was not particularly convincing. It was in the sun and it was hot. The gnats were there, always getting our attention.
When we got back to the rafts, I asked the couple who were sitting behind us if they weren’t getting on first. The woman said, “Not without help.” I wasn’t going to help, so I got on board. Eventually everyone got on, and we floated down stream back to El Fuerte. We walked back to the hotel and had a few minutes alone before the next walk.
On the walk around the town, Carlos told us more than I wanted to know. Churches, trees, buildings. He did point out places to eat, since we were on our own for dinner. The car of one of the locals was driving around with two huge speakers attached to the roof. A voice was animatedly saying something, probably political. We visited a two-story mural depicting the history of the area; it also depicted Romans and Christ, but I’m not sure how they got in the picture.
Lunch was good: chicken in tortillas, beans, and ice cream for dessert. Then we were free until 3 PM.
The two SUVs drove us out to a Mayo village. The Mayos are indigenous Indians. We were outside all the time, under a loose cover. The family we were taken to demonstrated making tortillas, and most of the women in our group took a ball of dough, patted it into a flat circle, and let the woman cook it on a curved hot metal bowl. Another woman was working on a clay pot, using short, thin pieces of vegetation in the clay as a binder. The pot was quite thick. It would rest until the next day, when it would be fired.
The biting gnats were there, too.
Four men did three dances. The first was one done before a deer hunt. Much to my surprise, some deer still lived in Mexico. The dancer strapped a small deer’s head to his forehead and stamped around with two gourds while two other men ran sticks over two rough sticks and a third pounded on a half-gourd in a pot of water. The gourd was about ten inches long and empty. Pounding on the gourd simulated the heart beat of the deer. He did another dance with a hairy mask, the hair coming from a horse. The third dance he wore a burlap face, which was supposed to satirize the interloping Spaniards.
Half a dozen young girls sang the Mexican national anthem in their native tongue. At least that is what we were told.
There were several cats around. One was a “teen aged” cat who was extremely thin. All the cats were thin but seemed in good working order. They had dogs, too, which were far from fat.
A flower garden was in bloom, filled with marigolds. We were told it was for the Day of the Dead, which was coming up Saturday. Saturday November 1 was the day for small children who had died. November 2 was for adults. The living visited the cemeteries with flowers, food, and drink; some stayed all night.
We were driven back to the hotel and were free until the morning. At seven we walked over to the restaurant we had picked. It was night, colored lights were on the gazebo in the middle of the town square, people were walking about.
I had pictured a higher class restaurant, but it was adequate. One other couple from our group was eating there, too. We had coupons for free margaritas for the restaurant, but they would not honor them, although there was no expiration date on them. We ordered beer instead. The menu was on four laminated pages. We chose different enchiladas, although the Mexican food was rather sparse on the menu. The food was OK, although my chicken was rather dry. Beans seem to be served with all dishes, although one would expect it with enchiladas.
The walk back to the hotel in the cool air was pleasant. I slept well enough, but the biting insects were busy all night. The hotel furnished a slice of toast and a cup of coffee, since we were eating breakfast on the train. Half of the group went with Carlos for a short walk along the river, where he talked about the plants and water. We passed two old men who were fishing and one man who was doing exercises. The biting insects were busy, and I was not that interested in the plants and water, so I went back to the hotel.
When everyone was back and ready, we went to the train station. There was a large map outside the station, and Carlos gave a short talk on where we were going. Several women were selling maps and books on Copper Canyon, and I bought a map for $5.
When the diesel arrived, we lined up, and Carlos gave us our range of seats--41 through 56. Our bags were piled in the front of our carriage. When we got under way, Carlos took us to the dining car for breakfast. There was coffee and juice and a choice of one of three main dishes. Sue and I had the ham and eggs mixture, but a sausage was available and another dish.
After walking back to our seats (walking on the train was a real chore; it rattled back and forth at a fast rate and never the same rate), we dozed and looked out the window for the next four hours. The scenery was similar to that in New Mexico, although the valleys were deeper. We crossed the longest bridge and passed through the longest tunnel (there were many tunnels).
After disembarking at Cerocahui, we went by bus for another half hour to the Misión Hotel. The entire road was dirt. The vegetation at the side of the road was grey/green because of the dust sent up from passing vehicles.
The bus arrived about 2:30, and after putting our things in our rooms, we had lunch. Several of us ordered a half lunch. When the chicken arrived, we all thought, “I’d hate to have the full lunch.” However, when the full lunches were passed out, we couldn’t tell much difference between them and ours. The food, as usual, was good but too plentiful.
Two activities were available after lunch: a short walk around the small town or a three-hour walk to a water fall in the hills. Seven of us decided to go with Juan, who spoke no English but had most of his teeth. We gathered in front of the hotel with us in our high-end walking shoes and Juan in his Tarahumara sandals. The sandals looked home made. A couple of his toe nails were in bad shape, showing that he wore sandals all the time.
The walk was good. The path was rocky, so I was glad I had on my hiking shoes. We went through part of the town, across the creek, and into the forest. After an hour or so Vera decided to wait for our return. Bob had some trouble walking and had been bringing up the rear, but he decided to carry on. When we got there, the falls were very attractive, although it was getting darker. We enjoyed watching the water fall into the pool for a while, then went back.
Juan was very concerned with Bob and was helping him over rocks and down slopes. He kept running from the front of the line where he gave directions, to the rear of the line where he helped Bob. We passed four locals on the way out and picked up Vera.
When we got back to the hotel it was six thirty and almost dark. After giving Juan our $5 each, we went to our rooms. Sue and I showered and went over for a drink.
The local wine was all they were serving; it was OK. Three local men were playing Mexican music. They wore white shirts with large, red ties. One man was bareheaded, one wore the traditional straw hat, and the third had on a baseball cap. They played OK and sang mostly on tune.
At dinner, I tried the half serving again. I would not have called it “half,” but the full serving gave two pieces of meat. Again, the food was good.
I went to bed with my bug bites. The backs of both hands were swollen, my ankles were swollen, and parts of my forearms were swollen. I could feel the bites on my forearms and they bothered me somewhat during the night. After the heat and humidity of El Fuerte, it was nice to use a blanket in the cool air of Cerocahui.
Breakfast was again excellent, and I ate too much—huevos rancheros, bacon, a Mexican “pizza,” bun, coffee, and juice. There were more items, but I steadfastly ignored them.
The morning’s activity was a bus ride of an hour to overlook a deep valley. On the way we stopped to overlook the valley our hotel was in. When we eventually arrived at the overlook, the sight was nice but very hazy. Everything is haze these days. We were there for half an hour, and I took around a dozen photos. On the way back we stopped at a farmer’s home. He sold bowls made from grass and pine needles. Some were rectangular with tops, some were circular; he also sold colored belts. He was a more prosperous farmer with peach and apple trees. Farmers would work away from home when work was available, which would not be for a very long time. He had several small children.
We walked down the road to another weaver, who had his material in a shallow cave whose opening was covered with wood. He spoke excellent English, having been brought up in Ohio. I bought a set of five circular baskets nested together for $4. The largest container was about three inches across.
We carried the farmer and his wife back to town. In the middle of the trip we stopped by a truck, which was sitting at the side of the road. It had run out of diesel! Our driver was going to give him a few liters, but the hose was too short and the decision was made to send some fuel out to him from town.
After checking out of the hotel we got on the bus and traveled the half hour to the train station on the dirt road. Lunch was on the train when it finally arrived. While we were eating we kept going through tunnels, and there were no lights on in the train. The chicken quesadillas were eaten mostly in the dark.
Divisadero was our stop. There were over two dozen vendors around when we detrained. They had stalls set up all the way to the hotel. After we got our bags in our room, I went to the reception to see about hiking trails. I was told there were only two and that our group would take them the next day. We wandered around the vendors for a short while, but they were closing up. Sue bought a woven, circular pine needle pot with a lid for $4.
At five o’clock everyone was in the lounge with a free margarita. At six a video was shown, which I skipped. Dinner was shredded beef and two sauces which were put into a tortilla. Again the food was good.
The night was cool with a strong wind blowing. By morning I had two blankets on.
Breakfast at eight was a buffet. I had papaya and cantaloupe, orange juice, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, oatmeal, and coffee.
The vendors were all set up when we walked to the lecture. At nine Carlos gave us a short geographical background, which included our area. It did not particularly interest me and I was able to forget what he said very quickly. A local boy of about six or so sat in the back and picked up almost as much as I did.
The morning walk was very nice. Cool, blue day. For most of the walk, there was a walkway. There were three stops along the way with metal fences and short platforms of 20 feet or so over the canyon. The sheer walls were very attractive and made my knees weak. Sue’s knees were in good shape, so the DeWitt name was not a complete failure.
At each stop there was a group of locals selling carvings, baskets made of grass, and various other items.Lunch featured a Mexican steak, which was very thin and full of fat and gristle. It tasted OK, but was not one of my favorites.
At 3:30 we left on another hike in the other direction from the hotel. We made three stops. On the way to the first stop we passed a young woman sitting by a tree on the path with her sale material on a rug. She was selling the usual: small woven baskets, etc. I was amazed. People are selling things all over the area!
A violin maker was our first stop. He was working outside under a wooden lattice. His wife was there, too, weaving baskets. In front of the area where he was working was a table with more woven baskets, disks on ribbons, etc. He was carving on a violin with a small knife and had two finished violins on the table in front of him; they were unstained natural wood. He did good work, but they were obviously handmade. One was in the normal violin shape, but the other looked like a mandolin. He brought out another violin, and played two tunes. He wasn’t very good, but one could discern the tunes.
We passed by two caves that were homes with wooden fronts. The inhabitants were selling the same things. Past those places we reached a point overlooking our hotel and the valley. The scene was attractive, but, as usual, a haze hung over it.
The last stop was on top of the hill we were climbing. The climb was not steep, but Carlos set a brisk pace. Near sunset we were at the top overlooking the hotel again, and the valley. Spectacular, hazy views.
Happy hour at the hotel was happier because we got two for the price of one. Dinner was cream of something soup and OK enchiladas.
Breakfast was scrambled eggs with onions, excellent muffins, fruit, coffee, and beans.
The drive to Creel was less than an hour. At the Best Western our rooms were not ready, not unexpected, nor was our local bus, which was unexpected. Apparently the driver showed up earlier but asked for a different tour group. Since that group was not coming, he went home. He was contacted and was supposed to show up with his bus.
After an hour and a half, Carlos asked our driver if he would take over the chore and drive the motel’s school bus. Raoul agreed, and we drove out of the driveway. Another bus drove by, and Carlos got out to see if that was our bus. I don’t know if it was or not, but we continued on.
The first stop, after a wrong turn, was the local cemetery, where The Day of the Dead was being celebrated. Some of our group thought we should not take pictures or bother the people, and they stayed on the bus. I went into the cemetery with my camera. The place was packed. Cars and pick-up trucks were driving in and out. There were families all over the cemetery tending graves, talking, or just sitting. Several vendors were walking around selling cotton candy. A large number of graves had fresh flowers or new memorial wreaths. There were no children running around nor anyone laughing loudly, but neither was there any heavy mourning. It was all very interesting, and it would continue all day and into the night.
The next stop was a cave. Originally the cave was where Sebastian and his family lived, but now it was primarily a storage area. The people lived in several small houses around the cave. Inside the cave two women were selling…you guessed it. The cave was quite tall but not very deep. It had two or three levels. There was a corn field in the valley, and the corn had been harvested and put into a large, open pen, about 20 feet on a side. The corn had been shucked and the kernels were yellow and black. The sun was shining and the sky was blue. The air was cool. The day was an excellent one.
After driving through a mission town, we drove toward a falls. The paved road was pleasant enough, but the drive from there to the parking area was torture. It was a one-lane dirt road full of rocks, large and small. A couple of times the driver had to back up and start over to get past a rise in the road. Tree limbs whipped the bus and we came within inches of huge rocks. We drove through the river three times. Several times it sounded as if part of the bus had been torn off. After 20 minutes we finally stopped. It seemed like an hour.
Our lunches contained a ham and cheese sandwich; the ham was without flavor. Sue and I split one. The Cokes we gave back to Carlos. We ate the bananas and kept the granola bars.
Carlos led us to the falls. It seemed a long way to the falls and a rather short way back. Surprisingly, the falls were quite attractive; the sun was on them and a half dozen people were down on the river. The water was flowing less than normal, but it was still quite attractive. On the way back we stopped at a trail-side shop and bought woven bookmarks. At least we thought they were bookmarks.
The ride back was shorter but no less exciting. The bus stopped at Lake Cortez, where there were several women selling…yes. Carlos gave our unused food to some kids who came up hoping to sell something.
At the hotel we picked up our backpacks from our “regular” bus and found our room. This was an eat-out night, and Sue and I had decided to buy some food and eat in the room. After a walk down the street, we found a grocery store that was open, about the size of a convenience store. We bought cheese, crackers, a roll for Sue, some nuts, and a Baby Ruth candy bar for less than $5. On the way back to the motel we found a store than sold wine, although they had only five different bottles. They would not open it for us and had no cork screws for sale, so we could not buy it.
After six we went over to the hotel bar and had our free margarita and our nuts. After chatting with our fellow travelers for half an hour, I bought a bottle of wine for $15, and we walked back to our room for dinner.
We got the gas stove to work. In fact it worked a little too well; we were a bit warm in the night. Hot water eventually came on in the morning for our showers. Bags were out by seven and picked up soon afterwards. At breakfast we could order anything on the menu. Sue ordered poached egg and ham. She was served a fried egg and pressed ham. I ordered poached egg and sausage. I was served eggs scrambled with sausage bits. It was tasty, however.
At eight we were on the bus and on our way to a Basaseachi National Park. I dozed a good deal of the way; how many trees can one look at? We stopped for a toilet break. There were the two pay toilets that Carlos paid for. The women had difficulty flushing the toilet and opening the door from the inside, but they were finally all ready to go.
I dozed part of the time, but the hills were higher and the valleys more interesting. We were given cabins at this stop, and after we stopped in our cabins, we went to lunch, which was a ham and veggie sandwich [I could taste the ham] and a banana. That was just about right.
At 1:30 we drove to an overlook to see the Basaseachi Falls. They are the second highest falls in Mexico at 806 feet. We divided into two groups; one group would take the hike to the falls and one group would take the bus. There was a big discussion about how many would be on each program, but it was eventually figured out and we started walking.
The walk was essentially through the forest on a dirt track. There were portions where Carlos said to be careful because it was slippery, but we all made it. The rocks at the top of the falls were water carved and interesting. Debris higher up showed that the water was often much more than the current amount. The walk back to the bus we were told was 900 meters. I think it was closer to twice that. The way back was paved so it wasn’t bad.
When we got back to the cabin, I lit a fire in our wood stove. The room was so dark and there was only one light in the ceiling, so we went on to the porch to read. Bob came by and asked about lighting the gas heater. I thought it would be easier to show him and went back to his cabin with him. It took me a while to figure out which button to hold down to start the pilot, but it finally got going.
During the “happy hour” we went over to the dining room and bought a glass of wine. The wine was only $2 a glass, but when we tasted it, it seemed overpriced. It did get better as the level in the glass decreased. Dinner was shredded beef, salty potatoes, and salty carrots. Tortillas and sauces were also available. And, there was a free beer.
After dinner, Carlos treated us to three Mexican liquors: mescal, sotol, and tequila. The amounts he gave us were about half a teaspoon each so no one turned into an expert, but most of us agreed that the tequila was the best bet.
One of the staff had turned our gas heater on and opened a window. There were so many holes in the cabin, I’m sure the open window was not necessary. Since there was only a single light bulb at the top of the cabin, it was hard to read, so we were in bed around nine.
I showered in the morning. The drain was extremely slow, so Sue showered in an inch of water.
Breakfast was good: fruit, beans (!), juice, coffee, and eggs scrambled with sausage. These eggs were better, less spicy and less grainy.
On the drive to Chihuahua we stopped for lunch at a Mennonite home, which obviously did this on a regular basis. They served a roll on which one could put cheese and a piece of meat that I was told was a kind of sausage. Pickles and other condiments were available. For dessert, there were two large plates of cookies on both tables. I took two cookies and found them good but not irresistible.
These Mennonites came from Canada in 1920, where they had been threatened with military services. Mexico promised them no military service among other things.
Our hotel in Chihuahua City was the Quality Inn, a modern, very nice place. After settling into our room, we were taken for a short walk in the downtown area. We went through some market areas. One was selling dried rattlesnakes, various dried plants, loofahs, etc. We went single file through the vegetable, hardware, clothing, and food shops. The sidewalks had an occasional access area about a foot deep that was covered with a metal plate. Some of the areas were missing the metal plate, and Bob stepped into one. Jeanette yelled, “Oh my God!” But Bob got up and said he was OK. One of the statues we passed was of an ancient hero who was supporting pigeons all over his body. I liked the one sitting in the middle of his hat.
Today was November 4, 2008, election day. When we got back to our room, we turned on CNN. They had McCain ahead in electoral votes 17 to 3. By the time we left for drinks Obama was ahead 201 to 45. In Mexico, most hotels offer a free margarita to guests. When we had finished our drinks, Carlos came back to us and said an American from New Mexico was at the bar and he offered to buy us another. Most of us agreed to a second. Sue and I went up to the man and talked to him for a bit. He was from Las Vegas and spent half the year volunteering in Mexico after his wife died. Although he was retired, he didn’t look very old. Other members of our group also talked with him.
At six, we were driven to our restaurant, where we had a private room. Another margarita was waiting for us at our seats. Soup was served, then steak. Chihuahua is a cattle area and beef is one of their favorite dishes. The steak was good, although it was rather thin.
Back in our hotel room, the polls on the west coast were closed, and CNN declared Obama the next president. Then we could go to bed.
Breakfast was very good: eggs any way you wanted them, beans!, a couple of mixed vegetable dishes, toast, juice, coffee.
After the meal we went on another walking tour of the city, lead this time by a local man. His voice was high and he had some trouble with English. He would start a sentence, repeat it a couple of times, and sometimes stop talking. A cathedral was on the walk; it contained a dozen people. We visited another public building where he explained the mural that was on the four interior walls of the central open area, which depicted the history of the area.
Getting back on the bus we visited the Pancho Villa museum, which was guarded by military men throughout. “Pancho Villa” was not the original name of the man. It was the name of the leader of the group of banditos that he joined as a young man after he killed the man who raped his sister. When the original Pancho was killed, he took over the name. There were lots of guns, various memorabilia, and the car in which he was assassinated. He is a Mexican hero because he helped in the Revolution, and he was well remembered by the poor to whom he gave money.
We walked through the Quinta Gamero mansion, which contained paintings new and old, and then drove to the mining town of Santa Eulalia for lunch. Before we ate we were shown some very colorful rocks from which gem stones were produced. Most of the rocks were about the size of a softball.
Lunch was accompanied by live music; a local man played a guitar and sang (loudly). Except for the volume, I enjoyed him. He had several CDs for sale, too. Beef, beans, and tortillas were the lunch, with chocolate cake for desert. After lunch we walked through the mining museum adjacent to the restaurant. Sue’s father had visited mines in Mexico, but she didn’t remember if he had been there. American Smelting and Refining Co. had been there for many years mining silver.
The fellow who ran the restaurant had retired from banking and started up the restaurant in the old buildings. It was a modest place with a modest kitchen and modest rest rooms. Carlos said that he had relatives who helped him on the weekends. It was hard for me to see where he got his business from, since most of the local businesses were gone.
When we got back on the bus our exuberant local guide said goodbye. He had helped the guitarist sing a song and was OK at it.
It was a long ride to Paquimé in Old Casas Grandes. The motel was not far from Paquimé Museum and the ruins of Paquimé, but it was on a dirt road and it was dark when we arrived.
The bags were put in our rooms and we went into the kitchen/dining room for dinner. We filed by the serving area to get tortillas, beans, potatoes, and beef. Familiar stuff, but it was good. The owner showed us her gallery where she was selling pots, and then we went to bed and read.
Breakfast was followed by a short walk to Paquimé Museum, which is very attractive and shaped like a donut. The explanation of Paquimé takes a circular path around a courtyard that could be used for a lecture. The displays are quite attractive with lots of room between them. Paquimé was a trading center, and there is no evidence of any physical conflict. Shells, parrot feathers, and pottery were part of the trading picture.
The group was taken outside next to walk around some of the partially excavated ruins. Most of the rooms/houses were made of rammed earth, and were a good three feet thick. The ruins were well taken care of.
After the walk back to the motel, we were taken into the owner’s display room where she talked about what makes a good pot. The pot should be hand painted, either before or after firing. It should not be covered in Mop and Glo. You should like it. Sue and I were interested in a serigraph of a design by Juan Quezada. We arranged for her to bring us a framed print on her next trip to Albuquerque late in November or early in December.
For lunch we drove to Mata Ortiz, a really nothing of a town, and ate at a restaurant run by an American woman. She served posole and quesadillas, which were good.
Followed by over half a dozen of the local children selling pots, we went for a display of pottery making with Mireya Quezada, a daughter of Juan. She had finished decorating a pot, and it was ready to be fired. It was put on a short tripod and covered with a ceramic pot which was surrounded by cottonwood bark. The bark was sprinkled with kerosene or gasoline and set on fire. While the fire was burning, Sue, Richard, and Jeanette started working on pots. They patted a ball of clay into a tortilla, which they put into a bowl and evened out. Using a hacksaw blade, they cut off the clay above the bowl. A cylinder of clay was then placed around the top and worked in with the bottom clay. This addition was worked higher and then the top was cut level with the hacksaw blade. The pots were then set aside to dry out. What they did with these pots, no one knows.
All of us then went into her shop to look at Mireya’s pots for sale. She gave generous discounts to those who wanted to buy. Carlos then gave us 25 minutes to look around the town to see if there was anything we wanted to buy.
We walked down the main, dirt street to Juan Quezada’s shop. Outside, Sue ran into Laura Quezada, whom she had met last year on her trip down. Laura had given Sue a pot to send to Mara Goldman-Palumbo. Mara had sent a letter to Laura, who had never received it. So, Sue got Laura’s address and would send it to Mara when she returned home.
Juan’s three-room shop was full of pots from him and all of his family. While many of the pots we saw were attractive, we had to transport them in our baggage, which meant they had to be small.
Our bus was waiting by the train station/gallery, which was not open for business. The village’s children were there displaying their goods. We bought one flat pot as a gift for $5.
A small, old lady, who we were told was the village greeter, and who had been following us in the town was there. She was all bundled up with a scarf over her head and a hat on the scarf. She didn’t seem to have all of her teeth. Occasionally she would say something in Spanish, but I couldn’t tell what it was, probably a request for money.
Back on the bus...
We rested up until six, when we drove out to dinner. Before dinner we were entertained by four dancers who did several Mexican dances from several different cities or states. The two males seemed more graceful than the girls. They danced to a tape. The males did a lot of stamping on the wooden platform; the women twirled their skirts. When the show was over, we learned that they were high school students. They did a good job.
Dinner was beef, chicken, or fish. Everyone chose beef except me, who chose chicken. I had some of Sue’s beef and admitted that it was better than the chicken. Beer was considered part of the meal, but wine was extra.
Breakfast was pancakes, and then we left. We didn’t go far, however. A stop at a gem center, unscheduled, was arranged. They gave us a demonstration on how they produced gem stones for pendants and earrings. The large piece of stone was cut into thin pieces and then polished by several machines using smaller and smaller polishing wheels. The finished stones were sent to a company in Taxco that set them in silver and sent them back. They had about six long tables filled with their final product, and they made quite a few sales.
On the long drive (3.5 hours) to Juarez, we ate our lunch and played loteria, en Espaňol, which was essentially bingo. Sue won a small woven basket, and I won a woven bookmark.
In Juarez it took us an hour and twenty minutes to crawl through U.S. customs. When we finally got there, the immigration man checked all our passports, looked at the suitcases from a distance, and let us through.
Another half hour got us to the airport in El Paso. It took about twenty minutes to check our bags at Southwest. Through security, I bought a newspaper to help get up to date. The only real news was that the stock market had dropped 800 points since the election.
We flew to Phoenix, me in a middle seat. For dinner in Phoenix, I had a cinnamon bun, and Sue had a fake strawberry yogurt. An hour later we flew to San Diego; I had an aisle seat this time.
Two vans picked us up at the airport and took us to the Park Manor Suites again. It was Friday night, and the weekly gay party was in progress on the seventh floor. Male couples came in, some holding hands, and took the one elevator up. We were on the first floor. Our room had only one large bed, but since the hotel was full, we were stuck with it.
At the meager breakfast the next day we said goodbye to those members of our group who hadn’t left yet. There was another Road Scholar group just coming in who were on a cooking trip.
This was the first day on our own, and we decided to go to the San Diego zoo, which we had visited many years ago. It was almost two miles to the zoo, so we walked. It was a great day, with lots of sun and a cool breeze. I wanted to eat breakfast somewhere else, so when we passed a young man on a bench unwrapping a muffin, I asked him where he got it. He said there was a Starbucks three blocks up Laurel.
Before getting to the zoo, we walked through the Spanish Village where there was an annual pottery sale going on. People had brought in their goods and had them displayed for sale. We didn’t want to transport any pottery home, and we had just visited pottery makers in Mexico, but we looked around.
After paying our $30 or so each to get in the zoo, we spent several hours looking at the various animals. We ate lunch, sharing a chicken wrap, while the gondolas slid silently above us. A family of four ate next to us at two tables. The parents and two boys were all overweight, and they had purchased tops for their soft drinks shaped like animals. I assumed they would take the tops home and reuse them at dinners.
The elephants were not in their yard. It looked as if they were about to reenter the yard, so we waited around for 15 minutes. Then we left.
The zoo had several stores, all selling zoo-related material made in China. Sue bought a black T-shirt with gorilla head features in white. Some of the books looked interesting, but I didn’t want to transport them home.
About six hours after we had left, we got back to the hotel. They had indeed moved our room and transferred our bags. We unpacked and rested.
Since our room contained a kitchen with a refrigerator and stove, we decided to eat in, if we could find a grocery store other than the 7-Eleven across the street. The desk informed us there was a Whole Foods about a mile up the road, so we decided to go there. It seemed to take us forever to get to the store, but getting back to the hotel was rather quick. Actually it was about 20 minutes each way. Our purchases were a bottle of wine, two cheeses, crackers, salad, and for breakfast, a coffee cake and orange juice.
There is a lot to see in San Diego. Sue thought about the marine animal park, but we decided upon visiting the aircraft carrier Midway. Old Town Trolley Tours stopped near the Midway on its way around town, and it also stopped at the zoo. Balboa Park ran a free bus that stopped at the zoo and at a stop only a few blocks from our hotel. Our cunning plan was to take the free bus to get to the zoo, where we could catch The Trolley. After waiting 15 minutes at our corner, we decided to walk to the zoo. We never did see the free bus.
The Trolley finally arrived and drove us to Old Town. The driver gave a running commentary on the scenery and had a large tip jar next to the exit. The driver deliberately spoke too slowly; occasionally he would play part of a tape with sound effects on it. They were charging $30 each, so they gave a show.
At Old Town, we bought our tickets and walked around until the next bus left. There were a fair number of tourists in the town, which was spread out around a square with trees and grass. Places to eat, places to buy things.
The driver of the second bus spoke more quickly, but he was hard on people who were talking while we was talking, saying others had paid to hear his spiel.
Sue and I disembarked at the harbor and walked a couple of blocks to the Midway, which seemed gigantic. We were told that a new carrier, the Ronald Reagan, was twice as large! Being senior citizens, we got on board for $17 each. Stairs took us up to the entry point, where we were given earphones and a keypad to hang around our necks. Our picture was taken in front of a training plane; it turned out rather well, but we didn’t buy it.
The interior part of the tour took us through living quarters, boilers, command centers, brigs, kitchens, etc. It was all very tight. For lunch we shared a sandwich at the Fantail Restaurant with other tourists and many pigeons.
The four-acre flight deck had a dozen or so planes situated around. They all contained a dummy pilot and a board describing the plane. The wind coming off the water was very strong; the flags were all snapping and the sun was shining on the huge “41" painted on the superstructure.
Docents were around to answer questions; Sue joined one who was explaining how planes landed on the deck at sea. I walked through the superstructure, where an episode from the Vietnam War was being reenacted with sound and computer displays. Below, there was a souvenir shop, of course. There were some interesting items, but not interesting enough to be bought.We got back on the tour bus, which took us through downtown and over the long bridge to Coronado Island. We took a short walk around, passing through Hotel Del Coronado where we were going to have a beer, but the place was too full. When we got back to the bus stop there were about ten people of Chinese ancestry standing around. If they were waiting for the bus, too, it was going to be hard getting on. They did get on the bus, but Sue and I got the last two seats.
Finally we got back to Balboa Park and stopped for a resuscitating beer at the very civilized Prado Restaurant. We started walking back to the hotel when I saw The Free Park Bus! We hurried over and got on. The first trip was around the park. The second trip was also around the park. Sue asked if the bus went to our stop at Quince Street, and the driver said yes. Next trip she took us there.
For dinner we ate at Jimmy Carter’s, which was across the street from the hotel. It was a Mexican restaurant named after the owner. The food was quite good.
Breakfast was in the hotel room, where we finished our coffee cake. A taxi had been ordered for eight o’clock and we had our bags on the curb by then. There was an automobile there with a man in it, but it was not a taxi. We stood there for a couple of minutes before the driver got out and asked us if we were the ones going to the airport. We were.
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