|
|
Going Coastal
Febrero 7 -
We were off to the coast! Goodbye inland, goodbye dust, goodbye trying to get a tan in the driveway. We're headed to the Pacific, where the air is clear and the water is warm.
Where were we headed? Some guy named Gringo John's got a house that he rents out to nice folk like us. Now, none of us have ever seen this man, and in fact, I don't even think any of us have spoken with him. We may not even have had the address of his house, but Jan Starr was coming along, and she's apparently knew something about this place.
If you had to sum up Jan in a word, you might start with 'positive'. But stopping at
simply saying 'positive' would be like describing a tidal wave with the single word 'moisture'. She's the sort that, upon being shown her own forearm, say, "My goodness!
That is sooo neat!" So for Jan to describe our upcoming accommodations as "such a neat place", honestly, we could be staying anywhere from the Playboy mansion to the Bates
Motel.
After six hours of driving, we finally reached the coast. And what a welcome! It looked, well, it looked very much like any dust-ridden inland town in Mexico. But, but
this was the coast! We were supposed to have left all this dust behind! Where have
you taken us? "Not to worry," says Jan with a smile.
We turned from the highway onto the main street, waving a teary goodbye to pavement. The main road is a relatively straight, relatively flat dirt road for Mexican standards. We turned from the main road to a side road, then from that side road onto another side road which only just fell inside the bounds of the definition of the word 'road'. Then we turned again.
The dead-end can only be described as a crude drainage path on the rare occasion when they get rain. The entire road was one big tope (a tope is a Mexican speedbump, but a speedbump to the same degree that Jan is 'positive'). I remember one time I went blueberry picking with my dad, and, being a lumberjack by trade, he had a habit of driving straight through the Canadian brush, toppling small saplings as he went. That road was better maintained than this one. But, for the lack of vocabulary, I'll continue to refer to it as a 'road'.
This last 'road' was populated mostly by goats, piggies and nearly naked children, almost indistinguishable from each other due to the layers of mud on their bodies. But we're pretty sure the goats were the ones with the beards. We still didn't give up. Jan's spidey sense was really kicking in now. She had progressed to a 60% level of optimism that this was the right road. That's 20% more than just a few moments ago!
Now, don't get all googly-moogly and start cancelling your vacation plans in Caleta de Campos next year just because I've called it a barren dustbowl. There's more to this story than the town. And there's more to the town than just dust and bearded kids.
At the very very end of the very very bad road, there was a very large, very white gate. The wall around it was topped with broken glass as a security measure (beats barbed wire) and looked as though whoever lived there wanted to keep people out, not invite them in.
"This is it!" Jan was sure of it! She lept out of her jeep and ran to the gate. Every single one of us asked ourselves what we'd gotten ourselves into. A dusty town. A goaty road. A glassy gate. We crossed our fingers as she opened the gate...
Tune in tomorrow for the conclusion!
|
|  |
 El Tiempo:
Hot and Humid
| Habitación |
Gringo John's Casa
 
Hammocks on the roof. We've never slept in hammocks before, and we can kind of see why. Although we've got the best view in the house, we also have to stay in one position while we sleep or risk getting rolled out of the hammock.
|
D'yuna:
  | Home
Morelia |
|
| All: | Melons, Buns, Leftover Stuff |
|
Comida:
 | Garbage Dump with Cow Remains
Mexico 37 |
|
| The Gang: | Sandwiches with Butter on Them |
|
Cena:
  | Gringo John's
Caleta de Campos |
|
| The Gang: | Beef & Onion Tortillas, Salad |
|
