And next? A day off? A break? Oh, I don’t know—how about a thousand mile tour around Mexico in two days? (If you are a regular reader of this blog, then you’ll know that I am an idiot of sorts. But, let me just take the opportunity to say it directly: I am an idiot of sorts.) Yes, you heard me correctly. After a stressful day of travel that had the stewardesses calling “is there a doctor on the plane?!” for my fainting mother, after an arduous city walking tour followed by a day exploring castles, museums and a cathedral, I then took my aging, weary parents and my barely 3 month old son and wife on a two day, thousand mile tour around central Mexico in our Jeep Grand Cherokee. Yup, I did that.
It started with a trip up to the ruins of Teotihuacan, a set of pre-Aztec gargantuan pyramids. Unlike the El Greco exhibit, my father had specifically requested that we visit this most famous ancient site. So, I felt pretty good about this bit. But, this part of the tour did not come without its own glitches. First, I pulled into the first parking lot that I saw upon entering the park, which was near the visitor’s center and some shops, but over a mile from the main temples. So, the visit began with—you guessed it—more walking. Not that it was so bad; it was a beautiful day, not too hot, blue skies with fluffy white clouds playfully rolling by overhead. (Well, that’s how it all appeared when we started our journey into the park.) We finally arrived at the Temple of the Sun, which my dad and I climbed without too much difficulty. (Funny how being excited about a project will make you forget about your blister problem.) I could tell my parents were impressed and enjoying themselves. We took a break for Ale to feed Miguel and then headed over to the little shops to purchase some mementos. My mom even bought herself a pair of sandals she was very pleased with. It was all going so well. And then, suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, dark ominous clouds swallowed up the sky. And just like that, some mile or so from our car, the deluge began.
Getting rained on can be a drag no matter what. And getting rained on with your parents whom you are showing around is really not great. But, throw into the mix that you’ve also got a baby in a stroller in tow and then things get really crappy. Because of that, we had to take the long way around on the gravel path instead of a quicker more direct route that required us traversing several sets of steep steps. By the time we got back to the Jeep we were thoroughly and utterly soaked. (The one umbrella we thankfully had with us was used to protect the baby.) We ended up taking off our wet shirts and putting on the brand new t-shirts my folks had just bought as gifts for the family back home. “Oh,” she said, “I’ll just iron them when I get home and they won’t know the difference.” (Sorry to blow your cover, Mom.)
I drove around the park until I found a restaurant, and ran in for some food. Everyone else opted to stay in the car and attempt to reset their body temperatures. When I came out with some barbacoa tacos and mushroom quesadillas, I learned that there had apparently been a pow-wow in the car without me; and the consensus was that perhaps we should just call this a day and head home. You know, being soaked and tired and blisters re-aggravated and such. Maybe we should reconsider the long trip to San Miguel de Allende that evening. “Blasphemy!” I thought. If we go home now, we’ll have a hard time logging the thousand miles we so desperately need to make. Mexico City is great; it’s fantastic and amazing and splendid. But, now that you’ve seen some of it, you simply have to see some other parts of Mexico. So, despite the rain that continued to pour (it couldn’t possibly last much longer, the rainy season was supposed to be over for crying out loud) we headed onto the highway toward San Miguel via Queretaro.
And that’s when it happened. The REAL rainstorm began. Everything up to this point had been a relative drizzle. As night fell, so did the buckets upon buckets of violent water. The visibility was for shit. I mean, literally nil. Everyone in the car was surely thinking that this mad tour guide had finally gone too far. This would be the first and last tour of Mexico. It would all end here. And poor little Miguel strapped helplessly in the back seat would never live to see his first michelada. The lightening storm that ensued was literally the greatest I had ever seen in my entire life, an incredible etch-a-sketch of electricity in the sky. Long winding Jackson Pollock like displays that hung longer in the air than I had previously known was possible. It was breathtaking and beautiful. A truly natural fireworks display. Not that I was supposed to be watching any of this as I barreled along through the ever-growing lake sized puddles and the crowded, erratic traffic, both hands clenched to the steering wheel, torn between giving my parents the Mexico tour they surely deserved and the thin black line of tragic family car wreck. But, I couldn’t help but drive on and watch it all unfold.
I had already overruled the goup and committed us to getting to San Miguel de Allende, so press on I did, praying (cursing?) for the rain to stop. Trying to calmly breathe the air in the Jeep, so heavy with the doubts, fears and judgments of those I loved most. The silence was almost as defeaning as the rain beating upon the Jeep. Just as I thought we had reached some level of resignation, that things couldn’t get any worse--blink. On goes the interior light. Ok, whose door is open? Check. No one’s. Ugh. My father offered that maybe the water he’d been feeling leaking in under the dash was now affecting the electrical system. Suddenly, a quick painless car crash seemed the least of my worries. What we were looking at was an electrical failure that would leave us stranded on the side of the road in Mexico, in the dark, during the storm of the century.
Final installment to follow...
It started with a trip up to the ruins of Teotihuacan, a set of pre-Aztec gargantuan pyramids. Unlike the El Greco exhibit, my father had specifically requested that we visit this most famous ancient site. So, I felt pretty good about this bit. But, this part of the tour did not come without its own glitches. First, I pulled into the first parking lot that I saw upon entering the park, which was near the visitor’s center and some shops, but over a mile from the main temples. So, the visit began with—you guessed it—more walking. Not that it was so bad; it was a beautiful day, not too hot, blue skies with fluffy white clouds playfully rolling by overhead. (Well, that’s how it all appeared when we started our journey into the park.) We finally arrived at the Temple of the Sun, which my dad and I climbed without too much difficulty. (Funny how being excited about a project will make you forget about your blister problem.) I could tell my parents were impressed and enjoying themselves. We took a break for Ale to feed Miguel and then headed over to the little shops to purchase some mementos. My mom even bought herself a pair of sandals she was very pleased with. It was all going so well. And then, suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, dark ominous clouds swallowed up the sky. And just like that, some mile or so from our car, the deluge began.
Getting rained on can be a drag no matter what. And getting rained on with your parents whom you are showing around is really not great. But, throw into the mix that you’ve also got a baby in a stroller in tow and then things get really crappy. Because of that, we had to take the long way around on the gravel path instead of a quicker more direct route that required us traversing several sets of steep steps. By the time we got back to the Jeep we were thoroughly and utterly soaked. (The one umbrella we thankfully had with us was used to protect the baby.) We ended up taking off our wet shirts and putting on the brand new t-shirts my folks had just bought as gifts for the family back home. “Oh,” she said, “I’ll just iron them when I get home and they won’t know the difference.” (Sorry to blow your cover, Mom.)
I drove around the park until I found a restaurant, and ran in for some food. Everyone else opted to stay in the car and attempt to reset their body temperatures. When I came out with some barbacoa tacos and mushroom quesadillas, I learned that there had apparently been a pow-wow in the car without me; and the consensus was that perhaps we should just call this a day and head home. You know, being soaked and tired and blisters re-aggravated and such. Maybe we should reconsider the long trip to San Miguel de Allende that evening. “Blasphemy!” I thought. If we go home now, we’ll have a hard time logging the thousand miles we so desperately need to make. Mexico City is great; it’s fantastic and amazing and splendid. But, now that you’ve seen some of it, you simply have to see some other parts of Mexico. So, despite the rain that continued to pour (it couldn’t possibly last much longer, the rainy season was supposed to be over for crying out loud) we headed onto the highway toward San Miguel via Queretaro.
And that’s when it happened. The REAL rainstorm began. Everything up to this point had been a relative drizzle. As night fell, so did the buckets upon buckets of violent water. The visibility was for shit. I mean, literally nil. Everyone in the car was surely thinking that this mad tour guide had finally gone too far. This would be the first and last tour of Mexico. It would all end here. And poor little Miguel strapped helplessly in the back seat would never live to see his first michelada. The lightening storm that ensued was literally the greatest I had ever seen in my entire life, an incredible etch-a-sketch of electricity in the sky. Long winding Jackson Pollock like displays that hung longer in the air than I had previously known was possible. It was breathtaking and beautiful. A truly natural fireworks display. Not that I was supposed to be watching any of this as I barreled along through the ever-growing lake sized puddles and the crowded, erratic traffic, both hands clenched to the steering wheel, torn between giving my parents the Mexico tour they surely deserved and the thin black line of tragic family car wreck. But, I couldn’t help but drive on and watch it all unfold.
I had already overruled the goup and committed us to getting to San Miguel de Allende, so press on I did, praying (cursing?) for the rain to stop. Trying to calmly breathe the air in the Jeep, so heavy with the doubts, fears and judgments of those I loved most. The silence was almost as defeaning as the rain beating upon the Jeep. Just as I thought we had reached some level of resignation, that things couldn’t get any worse--blink. On goes the interior light. Ok, whose door is open? Check. No one’s. Ugh. My father offered that maybe the water he’d been feeling leaking in under the dash was now affecting the electrical system. Suddenly, a quick painless car crash seemed the least of my worries. What we were looking at was an electrical failure that would leave us stranded on the side of the road in Mexico, in the dark, during the storm of the century.
Final installment to follow...
2 comments:
Now that's a cliff-hanger!
Now this something that one needs to avoid. One needs to make sure that every one can't handle the same thing. You might be able to travel like this. Not your mom or your kid.
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