Mexico
Flight Plan 1988
November the first in the Central Texas
Panhandle Jamie, Serifin and I finished
the fall wheat planting and moved the equipment back to the home place.
Janet had made coffee and warmed the tortillas and beans as she watched the
weather worn crew park the tractors and drills in the equipment yard.
"Mike, it is time for Serifin and I to
visit our families in Mexico," Jamie said as he spooned frijoles on a
fresh flour tortilla .
" Si, Jamie, when will you leave,"
I asked?
" We go Monday, on the bus," Jamie
replied.
" No, Jamie we will take the plane
Monday. Do we need to fly to Morelia or to Mexico City?" I said.
A stunned Jamie replied, "Mike, we
have no plane tickets."
" Jamie you tell me where we need to
fly and I will buy the tickets. See I want to go with you to your home in
Mexico." I said.
"Mike, Si, you come to Mexico," An
excited Jamie asked?
I replied, " Si, Jamie , my wife, my
mother and I will fly with you brothers home to Mexico."
"I will call Mexico and see where we should
fly," Jamie said.
"Jamie, Janet will help you make the
call to Mexico," I said.
Janet had been listening in on the
conversation and asked, " Jamie you have a bathroom in Mexico?"
"Si, bano I have in Mexico,"
Jamie replied.
Janet asked, "Jamie you have an air
conditioner in Mexico?"
"Oh, Si, I have air conditioner en my
casa," Jamie replied.
The phone call was placed to the only phone
in a Mexican community deep in the state of Michigan and as usual some young
runner would fetch Estella. Estella
would wait by the phone for our call
back in an hour or so, as she lives a mile or so from the community
telephone.
While we waited Janet asked, "Jamie
mashed potatoes and cream gravy in Mexico?"
Jamie replied, "Si, Pappas but cream
gravy like Janet's, No! Janet's is very good."
" I can tell," I responded and
demonstrated with my hands how high Jamie piled the potatoes and gravy when
Janet fixes them for him.
We waited about an hour and a half and
Janet placed the call to Mexico and handed the phone to Jamie.
Jamie explained to Estella about his
pending plane trip with three gringos to his Mexican small town. The exchange
was filled with excitement and we could hear Estella talkin very loud and
excited across the room from the phone. Fifteen minutes and the plan was made
and goodbyes said.
Jamie looked up from the phone and said,
" Now you must come to Mexico as my family is very excited, If not I will
die a villains death, on my return."
"Jamie, I will make the reservations
then you can call Estella to let her know when we will arrive. Should we fly to
Mexico city or Morelia?" I asked.
" Mexico city as we can visit Morelia
after we arrive in my village," Jamie replied.
I placed a call to a little ole' lady
named "Mom" and asked her to join our adventure. Flight reservations
made, Estella notified of our arrival time all haste is made to be ready as our
due date approached.
Monday
November 4, 1988 our due date gave birth more slowly than Christmas.
White knuckles into the air, we observe
Amarillo disappear in a cold mist. Jaime gripped the armrest and blew air
across his teeth in a low whistle. Serifin pulled his hat low and mumbles a
Spanish prayer. Jamie and Serifin each held a wing in the air for the four and
a half hours to touch down in Mexico City. As we descended in the mountain air
of Mexico city I asked Jamie, "is
this plane ride was faster than the bus."
Jamie replied, "Si, but maybe I die
before we reach the land."
Serifin, nodded in agreement and applied one
last prayer.
Prayers answered, the plane hugged the runway
and taxied to the terminal. As we cleared customs, had our visas stamped with Mexican
approval, and carried our bags toward the omnibus red and green light ahead.
"Please Senior, push the button to see if we inspect your baggage before you enter Mexico," an immigration
agent announced.
All our group got the green light go to Mexico
except guess who. I was instructed to place my bags on the table and unzip
them. As soon as I had them unzipped the agent said, "jip them up, go to
Mexico."
We exited the terminal as a group onto the street crowded
with baggage handlers, taxis, and "oh my God," Jamie and Serifin's
entire family with the exception of great grandma and great grandpa. Must be thirty or more all saying, "buenos
tardes and coma es usted, all at once." This Mexican family walked many
miles just to meet the Texas travelers. After introductions and private family
greetings a plan was developed. Jamie's and his wife Estella agreed to stay in
Mexico city to show us gringos the lay of the land. All the other Mejia family
members were to return to their village and prepare for our arrival in a few
days. We sent them home aboard taxis and busses.
The Five of us loaded into taxis and headed
for the hotel. (Info on this hotel)
A late evening dinner in the hotel
restrauant honoring Estella ended a long but happy journey.
We learned
on Tuesday that the simple honk of a horn and wave of hand allowed our taxi to
cross 13 lanes of traffic as we head for the pyramids , no apri lima our drive said of the miricle.burro beer
However, in 650AD, a great fire swept through
the city, devastating many communities. For some unknown reason a swift decline
ensued and there was no massive reconstruction exercise. Several theories
prevail - invasion from a rival city taking advantage of temporary weakness, or
a culmination of the erosion of natural resources by over-exploitation.
Whatever
the cause, the population soon moved to other growing cities and Teotihuacán
was virtually deserted. By the time the Aztecs arrived on the scene, the area
was little more than an ancient ruin.
To the
Aztecs, Teotihuacán was a holy place, where the sun, moon and universe were
created. It was they who gave Teotihuacán its name, meaning "The place
where men become gods". They also named the Calle de los Muertos, thinking
(wrongly) that the many ruined temples and monuments along the "road"
were burial places of early rulers. However, the city never regained its
concentration of population.
On Wednesday visited the Shrine of the
Guadalupe
THE SHRINE
AT GUADALUPE
is considered the holiest place in the Western Hemisphere. President John F.
Kennedy and French President Charles de Gaulle testified to this during state
visits to Mexico. Pope John Paul II preached to millions of the faithful from
this holy Shrine during his 979 visit to Mexico. The Basilica commemorates the
Virgin Mary's appearance to a humble Indian and honors her request that a
Shrine be built in Her honor. In December of 1531, Juan Diego informed a
skeptical bishop of his encounter with Mary.
A
few days later, Juan returned to the site of the vision and once again Our
Mother appeared. The humble man relayed the bishop's request for proof of Her
visitation, whereupon the Virgin instructed Juan to gather roses from the
frozen, rocky terrain and present them to the bishop. Remarkably for the cool
season, he found a great number of roses strewn all around. Gathering the roses
in a sackcloth, he hurriedly took them to the bishop. When he opened the cloak
to present the roses to the cleric, it was not only the blooms that amazed the
bishop. Stamped on the humble cloth was an image of the Virgin! The same
miraculous image exists for you to see, hanging in splendor above the main
altar.
On Friday we
Rode the subway and shopped till we dropped
On Saturday
we spent close to the hotel and restraints nearby.
On Sunday we
took in the ballet folkalore
Ballet FolklOrico de MExico, Dance
Related
Category: Dance
Ballet
FolklOrico de MExico, Mexico's national dance company. It was founded in
1952 by the dancer, choreographer, and teacher Amalia HernAndez. Sponsored by
the Mexican government, it is headquartered at the National Institute of Fine
Arts in Mexico City and regularly tours worldwide. It began as a company of
eight dancers that produced dances based on Mexican folklore for television and
concert performance. Greatly enlarged, today it is recognized as one of the
world's preeminent "ethnic" ballet companies and presents a wide
range of colorful dances that spotlight Mexico's regions, history, and culture.
The company also runs a dance school.
On Monday we
checked out of the hotel. I found I had spent a million pesos in one place.
Thought I was going to faint until I figured out the amount was only four hundred U.S. dollars.
We loaded
our taxi and traveled to the bus station where all of Mexico mixes and meet to
travel. Hundreds of busses depart and
arrive in perfect precision around the
clock. Jamie purchased our tickets and we located an empty bench close to our
point of departure. It was hard to keep from loosing each other in the mass of humanity moving
through the terminal. After an hour of
Mexican watching and interaction with every child in Mexico we boarded for Jamie's hometown. Amazed at the hour to reach
the outskirts of Mexico city packed with masses of people and poverty covering every hill and valley in sight.
Another two hours down a narrow highway and we unloaded in an intersection with
a gravel road leading east or across the road to the west.. The bus pulled on
the highway and slowly disappeared down the road. I could not see any town or
person or vehicle of any kind. Jamie stood patiently and gazed at the mountain
where the sun was going to set in another hour like he was summoning the Gods.
In time a moving speck appeared on the
mountain. Then some kind of a vehicle came visible in the crevasse of the
mountain. In fifteen minutes an over worn Volkswagen bus pull to a halt a few
meters past our location as the brakes screeched and finally stopped the bus.
Luggage on top we load onto the cramped
bus and headed away from the setting sun down a gravel sort of a road. Burro road
to be exact, carried us for more than half an hour before the weak brakes ground us to a stop.
We unloaded our bags and the bus left in a cloud of dust.
Jamie said, " we're here." We are
now standing in a dry creek bed and no road was visible, just a trail. A trail
I soon discovered for us to follow.
Everyone grabbed a bag and headed up the trail with no end or anyone in
sight.
Trading
Places or Dear Memory
The following letter is a true account of my
visit to the Mejia family farm near Morelia Mexico in 1988. We Gringos, Mom, my
wife and myself, accompanied brothers Serifin and Jamie Mejia, back to their
roots after a years absence.
Dear Memory,
November 12, 1988
We've had a wonderful time at Jamie’s
house. Sagrario, Jamie’s 5 year old daughter follows our ever move so we are
well protected. Jamie and his four brothers have wonderful homes built with
their skilled hands. Janet and I sleep in Jamie and Estella’s bed and Mom
sleeps in Sagrario’s bed while Jamie’s
family either sleep in other homes or outside. Honored we are I’d say.
Clean is the watch word and how they
achieve it is magic. Every child sparkles before they smile. Fresh water is
available at the corner of the farm a few hours a day and is hand carried to
the homes scattered on the ten acre rock farm. Though Jamie’s hometown doesn't yet have running water or electricity
the houses are wired and waiting for the Mexican equivalent to our REA to
arrive.
The machos take the goat herd into the
mountains every morning and retrieve them in the evening. Cheese made from the
goats milk is used in every meal. Corn
is planted in the cracks of the huge flat rock they call home. The crop is good
as the summer rains were ample. Every grain of corn is ground into meal and
every stalk is fed to the lone family hog or the burro.
Our arrival to the village included a
mile walk from where the last taxi dropped us at the end of the road. Two year
old little Jamie ran to meet his dad and followed us back to the house
gathering enough rocks in his pockets that eventually his pants fell off .
Jamie always promised Janet that he had a
bathroom. At dark on our first day he
handed Janet a roll of toilet paper and pointed to the corn patch just downwind
from Jamie’s house. The story begins,
but I’ll let her tell you about how when she got all set up out there, all
alone, hidden in the corn stalks, a
burro and it's owner shows up.
By the way, Jamie's promised air
conditioning was a window with no glass
and worked better than a 10 ton unit in the good old you know where.
No flies, no wind storm, no cold, no hot
days, nothing to complain about. Fabulous sandwiches made of a hard corn
tortilla, goat cheese, and lime flavored mayonnaise, our equivalent of the
bologna sandwich.
In the evening of the second day a fiesta
started before sundown. It was to honor our visit and around a bonfire some
relative of Jamie's would tell a story in Spanish and we would all laugh and
have a round of El Presidente. Then one of us gringos would tell a story in
English and everyone would laugh and we would all have another round of El Presidente. Mixing in a few cervezas
and some corn tortillas the night turned into midnight and midnight turned to
late night. Finally I leaned over to Jamie and said, “ I sure am tired.”
Immediately the party ended and all started home. Seems as the guest of honor I
was to determine when the party was over. A Mexican custom well learned. A
fiesta is held every night of our visit. I like that Mexican custom.
Our meals near 2 O'clock each day are enjoyed in a different
home so we can greet personally their family members. Each family present us
with their favorite meal. Of course we over eat but the mixture of people is a
wonderful experience.
Our last morning in Jamie's village started
with a roosters’ crow as Janet gathered the toilet paper and headed for the
corn patch. Today we would pack for
our first trip to Ajijic. Jamie’s truck would haul us to Morelia so we could
catch the bus. We three gringo packed in silence as we reflected on the
marvelous reception we received from these small town folks. A week long fiesta
on our behalf, with the learning of local customs has forever changed our
perception of Mexico, just as we had
expected. Jamie’s nature had already tipped us off as to what we thought we
would find in Mexico.
Too many hugs, too many tears, too many
goodbyes led us to the edge of town and Jamie’s waiting yellow, 1979, Ford
pickup truck. His was the only motor vehicle in town. Aboard and vowing to
never look back, as is our custom, headed down the valley to Morelia.
Jamie hid the tear streaking down his cheek
as we ended the visit. The only words spoken on the road to Morelia was when
Jamie said, “ My friends you will always
be welcome in my home.”
The bus station was a human beehive as is
the case in all Mexican cities. Seems Mexico moves and moves very well on it’s
bus line to everywhere and to nowhere. Jamie helped me purchase the tickets and
explained in spanglish the trip would take most of the day. Jamie wanted to
wait with us until the bus arrived and we were aboard, but we sent him on his
way.
In an hours time, the bus arrives and we
join 300 parakeets for our journey.
Oh, Memory remind me to write you about, a
white knuckle plane trip to Mexico city, spending a million pesos, the bus ride
with 300 parakeets, codeine cough drops with a cervezas, and Ajijic Mexico
where I spect' I'll live one day.
Regards,
Mike
