Following the Poop

This past weekend, we traveled with staff and friends of Isaiah 55 Deaf Ministries into Mexico's beautiful interior.  While Reynosa is hot and humid, smelling slightly of sewer, and a mix of concrete block homes and modern theaters and restaurants (doesn't really feel like Mexico when you can find Walmart and Applebees in the city!), Real de Catorce is a hidden gem high in the Catorce Mountains located in the Mexican state of San Luis Potosi.  Located close to Matahuala, you veer of the main toll road and travel over old cobblestone roads, winding up the mountain (with no guardrail...whew) until you enter a 2,300 meter one way Ogarrio tunnel to wind up in the hilly, colonial city dating back to the 1700s. 

Ogarrio Tunnel

I'll be honest.  I was a tad nervous to be traveling in Mexico.  I know the Word says a lot about not fearing but the papers say a lot about mass graves and checkpoint shootings.  I nearly backed out several times, especially since Husband and Squirrels would be coming with, but in the end, my mantra was "God has not given you a spirit of fear but of a sound mind."  (I'm claiming it...so don't dispute my sound mind, even if this blog gives you plenty of evidence to the contrary!). 

We could not have had a more peaceful journey there.  Two vans full of Americans - some Caucasian, one Asian, and two African Americans.  Mexicans are not known for subtle staring.  We had several that insisted on having their pictures taken with the Squirrels - which made Katybird and Eli feel like celebrities.   Plus, some older Mexican women believe that if you stare at a child too long, you will give them the evil eye (some dark energy) unless you dispel the energy by touching the child, so Katybird and Eli were also subjected to many hands on their head and kisses on their forehead. 

We stayed at Ruinas del Real hotel, locally known as the hotel where Julia Roberts landed while filming "The Mexican" with Brad Pitt.  Her black camisole hangs in the lobby along with a candid shot of her.  I have a feeling she accidentally left the article of clothing behind instead of intentionally bequeathing an undergarment but I may have overestimated her. 

View of the main street when there are NO vendors there. 

 The silver mine ruins

 

NoNo, Husband, and NoNo's son Bibb atop the Catorce Mtns

 

We spent the next few days hiking nearly impossible inclines (all because NoNo's twenty-something son assured us it was "not bad"...yeah, just wait till he hits his mid-thirties.  I will show him "not bad"!), browsing the bazaar (which should be more aptly named "bizarre"!), viewing the silver mine ruins (including the only-recently-covered-seemingly-bottomless-shaft), and getting my head around Spanish menu words (I am all about huevos con tocino y jugo de naranja now).  What we hadn't planned on were three things:

 

1)  The whole city was celebrating Saint Francis of Assisi or, as they call him, "Panchito".  Which makes him sound like a Frito Lay snack item.  Various claims were made the the spirit of Panchito still moves through the city and that he came here to claim the land.  How we all love our legends, no matter how far-fetched.  The celebration lasts for several weekends and includes cannon shots at odd hours (during the day and night, much to our dismay), marching bands, and booths upon booths of chotchke such as peyote pomade (the city is well known to peyote-imbibers), die-cast Virgin Marys, and various and sundry rosary beads.  There were so many vendors with brightly colored, overstuffed tented booths, that it was hard to see the "Real" Real (pronounced Ree-el).  Mental note to self: do not go in October again.

Chotchke Central!



2)  While hiking back down the mountain side, sliding on loose rock and trying in vain to grab onto strongholds other than the prickly cactus, we came upon a very inebriated Mexican man, propped up in his foldable lawn chair.  He told us "everyone was going to the right".  Erin responded that we were heading to the beautiful old church at the bottom.  He responded, "Follow the poop!  Just follow the poop." We will assume he meant for us to follow any sort of trail made by the various donkeys and pack horses that traverse the mountains, i.e. if the horse/donkey can find the best path and mark it with "apples", that would be our best bet, but the phrase "follow the poop" became the running joke of the weekend.  Because, really, it can apply to more than descaling a mountain.  I'm pretty sure there is a lesson about government bureaucracy and corruption in Mexico with such a poetic turn of phrase.  Mental note to self:  if inebriated Mexican man can scale mountain, I have no excuses. 

They call me the "Poopmaker"



3)  We were told by the hotel that we would have to leave Real by 6 AM on Sunday morning or the tunnel would be closed to vehicles and only horse-drawn carts would be traversing back and forth, bringing in the 15,000 - 20,000 visitors that swell the town's under 1000 residents population on the last day of the festival.  We arrived promptly at 5:45 AM only to be told that the tunnel had closed at 12 midnight and would not re-open until 8 PM.  We were so tired, so ready to go, and so cold (Real is up at over 8,000 feet in elevation and not exactly the tropical paradise you think about when you hear the word "Mexico").  After four hours of negotiating with city officials, the owner of the horse cart operation, and the self-appointed tunnel officials, we FINALLY got clearance to go through. 

Dodging horse drawn carts with only inches to spare, we made it through and finally returned to the U.S. of A.  Mental note to self:  Mexicans make up information.  Often.  And prefer to do so rather than to just say "I don't know".  Some strange, face-saving cultural ideal that will take some bridging to understand and adapt to. 

Some pix from our travels:

A view of Real from the top of the Catorce mountain range

Eli with Alyssa, a former summer staffer

Mariachi (see video at bottom) serenades @ lunch

Katybird with Baby Barrett, our youngest traveler

So proud of their peyote (or "magic cactus") that even the napkin holders pay homage!  It's magic all right.  Those who know say it will give you 18 hours of hallucinations.