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I picked myself up from the floor under the dashboard and looked around. Whatever was not bolted down was on the floor. The boys were scattered all over. Still no one spoke or moved. We were all too stunned. Paul and Gil, who were next to the kitchen counter, were covered with flour and sugar. As I went towards them Gil started to cry with no sound--big tears rolled down his cheeks leaving streaks through the flour. John Mc and Randy extract themselves from the jumble of items that fell on them from the bunk bed. The cribbage board was nowhere in sight and the table they were playing had on tore lose from the wall. They looked as pale as I felt. John shouted for help. He was trying to hold the big back window in. It was not broken but it had twisted out of its frame and was half in and half out of the motorhome.
No one had been hurt. The motorhome was in one piece and the trailer was still attached and upright. Inside: every drawer was on the floor; all the cupboards were empty; the bathroom smelled like every bottle in there broke. As I look at the mess and realized we were all okay I started to laugh. I thought we had left earthquakes in California, but I guess we brought one with us. Everyone but Bill joined in. He was still slumped over the steering wheel, shaken and utterly exhausted. Later he told me he could look straight down at the pavement out of his side window and that he didn’t think we were going to make it. Thank God he was driving, how he managed to keep us on the road was a mystery and a miracle.
The mess defies description. There was not one thing that was where it belonged and not one area that wasn't coated with flour or sugar. Looking at the floor by the refrigerator, I was sure glad we ate the watermelon the day before.
The engine came to life, we were moving again, slowly. Bill found a place where we could safely pull off the road and we started to clean up what we could. Randy went up on the roof; everything was still there and looked okay. When we reached Mexico City we would do a complete job. The boys put the back window back in its frame and held it there with good old duct tape. It would have to be repaired or replaced. The TV and microwave went back where they belonged both still worked. In an hour we were back on the road, none the worse for our “hootchy-cootchy." We were a more subdued group than before. How quickly things can go wrong. Gil, Paul and John dropped off to sleep. Randy, John Mc and I were still trying to put things away and wipe up.
I didn't mention this in my next letter home.
The weather had turned colder and it started to rain just before we reach the out skirts of the city about dusk. This was unexpected.
Mexico City is huge. Using our trusty guidebook, we located a RV park right in the middle of the city. On one side of it was a stone building that was over 400 years old. The stones were black with age and covered with dark green moss. According to the guidebook it was used as a prison during the Conquistador times.
The park had hooks up for water, electricity, and sewer. Also there were nice shower rooms, with lots of hot water. The spaces were narrow, but there weren't many campers there so we could unhook the trailer and put it in a spot next to us. This was the first time we had to use our electricity converter to run the refrigerator and microwave. The electricity was 210 instead of 120.
There was no room for the tent so everyone had to sleep inside while we were there. No one complained. We started cleaning right away, especially the floor. That night we just crashed (bad choice of words). Everyone gave some sort of Thanks before going to sleep. The next day would be a very busy day.
There was ice on the windows and roof when we woke up. What happened to the tropical weather? It had been really cold during the night; after all it was still winter in the Northern Hemisphere. We had to dig out our heavy coats again; we just packed them while we were in Mazatlan.
A good part of the day was spent putting the motorhome back together. Thank goodness for the plastic covering the carpets. I can’t imagine even trying to get the mess out of the shag we would have had to tear it out. We made a list of what needed replacing: flour, sugar, salt, etc. etc. We should have scraped some of it off Paul and Gil. The guys put the back window in with caulking, screws and duck tape. It seemed like it might be okay. We were lucky it just twisted out and didn’t break. Everything still worked and as far as we could tell no major damage was done to the structure of the motorhome. The skin wasn't ripped; nothing bulged or sagged where it shouldn't have. We were leaking though. Water was coming in through the ceiling, probably from where the trunks were bolted to the roof. Randy went up to re-caulk all the screw and bolt holes.
Towards afternoon, we decided to take a break so we rented a Volkswagen bus to do some sightseeing.
Let me tell you right away. I did not see much as I was too busy hiding under the dashboard. Bill kept saying “Take a picture of that, take a picture of that!” I'd peek up over the dashboard and take a quick look. That -- was a building made entirely of blue and white ceramic tile. It was just magnificent. I took a chance and pulled my eyes off the road for a bit and looked in the guidebook. The building is called “The House of Tiles”. It is made entirely of tiles brought from Spain in 1708. Even the kids were in awe of it. My concentration quickly went back to the road! I just knew he wouldn't be able to navigate this traffic without my help.
“Look out where you're going. Why don’t you park this thing and let us out of here before we're all dead. You want pictures, let me out!” Looking back I'm surprised we didn't have more fights than we did on the trip. I certainly nagged enough.
If anyone had told me that driving in Mexico City was worse than driving on the highway I would have laughed. Well, I wasn't laughing then. There must be 10 million Volkswagen Bugs in the city and they all wanted to be precisely where we were going. I have never seen so many little, brightly colored automobiles in my life. Now I know why they call them “bugs."
All over the city there are wonderful statues, they are on little islands right in the middle of the intersections. The road makes a circle around the island and there are seven or eight avenues radiating off from each circle. You have to be real quick and know where you’re going or you’ll be driving around the same circle the rest of your life. On our first trip around a circle next to us was a car from Colorado, the driver, a man, was gritting his teeth, the woman was gesturing and shouting. The kids had their faces plastered against the windows and were both crying. They were still going around when we finally managed to get off.
“This is better than an E Ride at Disneyland!” observed Randy. Good, he can sit up front, with his knees right next to the bumper. Everyone else was pretty quiet; whether from fear or fascination I couldn't tell. Actually it was a good thing we rented this and weren't trying to get around in the motorhome. A lot of the streets right downtown are still cobblestone and very narrow.
“How come everyone is going the other way Dad?” Gil wanted to know.
I was wondering the same thing, but had the presence of mind not to mention it. But even I can understand the gestures we’re getting. Then we discovered why. We were on a one-way street going the wrong direction. The one-way streets weren't marked. If you were from the City you knew which ones they were, if you weren't Good Luck. We needed a better map as soon as possible.
Another thing, there are no stop signs at the smaller intersections. The first vehicle to blink his lights at the intersection has the right of way. The law of THE BIGGEST worked here too, so sometimes the crossing could get pretty interesting. It came down to who had the most/biggest cojones.
Up ahead we saw the buildings of the University of Mexico. They are absolutely magnificent. I still don’t have words to describe them. At least ten of the buildings are completely decorated with mosaic murals depicting the history of Mexico. What a pleasure it must be to attend classes there. I wish we could have spent more time looking at them.
“DAD! A Pizza Hut! DAD! Time to eat.” This from John who never wants to eat anything. A sight from home must be too much to pass up.
We found a parking place and went in all drooling with the thought of pizza. Well, this was not Pizza Hut, as we knew it. It was extremely expensive and the pizza had a very strange tasting sauce, more like chili. Never know unless you try. After eating, we went into a big market that was right next door. It had food, clothing, auto parts and anything else you think you might need. There was even a Laundromat attached. Luckily we had thrown all the dirty clothes in the VW in hopes of finding a laundry. We all traipsed into the market where I pulled out my list and started to buy the things we had to replace. Bill suggested I go do the laundry and he and the kids will do the shopping. We got the clothes and they left me at the laundry. After loading all the clothes into washers (almost every washer in the place) I went back into the store. I passed Randy and John Mc looking at clothes. John and Paul were looking at toys, and Bill was still putting groceries in the cart.
“Where’s Gil?”
“What do you mean, ‘Where’s Gil?’” Bill came back with.
“What do you mean, what do I mean, ‘Where’s Gil?’ He’s supposed to be with you.” We left the half filled grocery cart and started scouring the store, as we came across the boys we sent them out in search of a frightened, little, seven year old boy who can’t speak Spanish, lost in a huge, foreign market. I ran back to the Laundromat to check on the clothes. There were two women at the back of the room, one was ironing and the other mending. They could tell that I was upset and (I think) asked me what was the matter. My Spanish was almost nonexistent, but I was so worried I needed to talk to someone. I tried to explain to them that I had lost my son in the market. From the startled looks on their faces, the clicking of their tongues and the fact that they were backing away from me, I think I may have said something else.
A few minutes later Randy, John Mc and Gil came to get me. They found him sitting on the floor looking at comic books in the back of the store. He didn't know he was lost.
“I knew where I was Mom. Why didn’t you just come get me?” He couldn't understand why everyone was so upset.
When I told Bill about my conversation with the women he almost fell over laughing. According to him I said something like, “My eye is gone in the market.” Oho…hijo - eye..son, sounded the same to me. No wonder they looked at me so strange.
We bought Randy (Randy - of the blue jeans only Randy?) a new pair of pants, beige and close fitting, dress type, only $13 US. Then wait while his boots were re-soled and the toes of John Mc's shoes re-stitched.
By the time we were back in the VW it was dark so we decided to drive around the Zona Rosa, at that time it was the tourist section of the city, very upscale and fancy, reminded me of Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. I didn't have to worry that the stores were closed. I wouldn’t be shopping there anyway.
There were Federales all over. Everywhere you looked were soldiers with guns. Guarding buildings, inside and out, riding in army trucks and just walking around. It was so strange to see this, I don't remember the last time I saw a soldier let alone one with a gun. The scary thing was they held their guns as if they were ready to use them. One thing you didn't do was point your finger at them and say “Bang!” This was not a game. Randy and John Mc were impressed.
The next morning it was cool again. The change of weather was probably due to the fact that Mexico City is 7200 feet high. We wanted to go downtown and explore some more. Because we were going to visit the Cathedral Bill suggested I wear a dress instead of slacks. You can take the boy out of the church but not the church out of the boy. Off we went to the bus stop to catch one of the electric busses to go downtown. NO MORE VW! We'd spent years teaching the boys to be respectful of their elders, pregnant women, etc. Well, forget all that. If you didn't shove, push and generally look out for yourself you didn't get on the bus. Keeping the seven of us together and on the same bus was a challenge. Bill shoved the older ones and I grabbed the younger ones and drag them with me. Poor kids, I think, by the time this trip is over their arms will be 3 feet long. We found seats but …in different parts of the bus. It’s a nice, modern bus, but way too small for the number of people who managed to get on it.
The passengers were another story. Neither John had found a seat. They were holding for dear life onto the straps hanging down from the ceiling. Randy was squeezed into a seat in front of me between a dour looking old woman in a heavy brown winter coat and a young man who was coatless but had on a flannel cowboy shirt and a felt cowboy hat. As we started up he nudged Randy with his elbow and started to talk to him. A great deal of hand waving and a spray of spit accompanied every word. Randy leaned closer to the old woman, who pushed back and tried to ignore him. The guy kept poking at him until Randy responded by nodding and shrugging. Whatever he was saying must be funny cause he was laughing and grinning all the time he was talking. Then he stuck his grimy hand into his shirt pocket and pulled out a nice, big, red chili pepper. He offered Randy a bite. Randy cringed and looked around trying to spot an empty seat. There weren't any. All he could do was shake his head and hold his hands up saying NO! NO! He was sitting as close to the severe woman as possible. She was staring down her nose at both of them and mumbling into her rosary beads. Ward off that devil.
Gil and Bill are sitting right behind the bus driver who kept turning around to talk to them. Seems he took a shine to Gil and asked him if he wanted to sit up front and help drive the bus. Bill had to restrain Gil who thought that was the best idea he had heard all day. The entire trip everyone talked to both Paul and Gil - must be ‘cause they were so “blond and cute.”
At each stop more people got on the already crowded bus. No one got off. I couldn't even see the Johns any more. I hoped they didn’t get pushed out the back door.
“Mom should I get up and give that lady my seat?” Paul is tugging at my arm. He pointed at a grandmotherly looking woman. I was afraid that if I let him get out of his seat I’d never see him again. So I said no and looked the other way.
Time to get off. Good! We could see the Johns and motioned to them to get off. This was as hard as getting on. Involved lots of pushing and shoving to get to the doors.
“Jeeze, I feel like I took a bath in tequila.” were the first words out of Randy’s mouth. “Did you see that guy and that chili? It smelled terrible.”
Bill grinned, “You should have taken it, offering a chili is just like offering a piece of gum. By not taking it you weren’t very polite.”
“Well, next time I’ll be sure to tell them to give you a bite.”
“Mom, the man asked me if I wanted to drive the bus and he really meant it. But Dad wouldn’t let me even try.” this from Gil who thought he was a big shot.
We were right downtown in Cathedral Square. Government buildings of Mexico take up two sides of the square, one side has Aztec ruins that were being excavated and the Cathedral is on the other. We get off the bus by the government buildings, so we were looking across the square at the Cathedral. It is enormous - larger than a city block in size.
“Look at the way it tilts.” John said as he pointed to the ends of the building. The ground under Mexico City is an old lakebed and parts of the city were slowly sinking. This was really apparent when you stood across the plaza and looked at the length of the Cathedral. Both end sections were sinking as the ground settled beneath them. The further from the center building the more pronounced the slant of the structure.
In front of the main church the square was crowded. There were the faithful coming to worship, tourists like ourselves, and beggars: women with children, men with dirty, oozing sores and/or without legs and children, bare-armed, barefoot and alone. Some of the older children approach Paul with boxes of gum in their dirty hands.
“Chiclets.” “Chiclets?” For once he was speechless. He had finally met someone he didn't want to talk to. Gil was making sure he stayed real close to Dad. This was a new experience for them. They had never seen people begging before.
The Cathedral was absolutely wondrous. I felt I could stand there looking at it for hours and not see everything. Over the years several different sections have been added to it. The first part of the church was built during the time of Cortez. One section is adobe. We could see the original building material where the adobe was coming off. It was built of rocks held together with some type of mortar. Another whole section is completely covered with religious carvings and statutes. The walls are three to four feet thick in places. The doors are made of wood with wooden pegs and leather straps holding the planks together. The individual pieces of wood are twelve inches thick and 15 feet tall. Each massive door has a small, person size door cut into it. To go through this you have to step up and over the sill. We stepped over into the dark interior.
Incredible!
Inside was breathtaking. There are at least 12 altars all made of gold and decorated with precious jewels. We were all standing in hushed awe. Each section of the church has a main altar and several smaller altars along the sides. These too are gold. Paintings of saints and the holy family are wonders to behold. Some of the paintings had to be at least twenty feet high. There are giant pillars of marble soaring up to the ceilings fifty feet above the floor. Talk about feeling insignificant. I wondered what this place is worth? How many of those beggars could just one painting feed?
“Let’s go,” Paul whispers as he takes my hand. “I don’t like it in here. It’s scary.”
“Do you want to go out and get some chiclets?” I asked him. Well okay so sometimes I’m not very nice.
“NO.” He left me and went to Dad.
Back outside we bought a mango from one of the many pushcarts. How could something that looked so good taste so terrible? I didn’t know they put hot sauce on them. Ick. Yep, I was learning something new every day.
We crossed the street to visit the Aztec ruins that were being excavated. The sign said they were discovered when the city was putting in new sewer lines. Seems like the Spaniards had a habit of building on top of the Indian holy places. We looked around with amazement. There were paths leading between the foundations of buildings and stairways. Everything was build out of irregular cut rocks. The outer and inner edges were almost smooth. It was fascinating to walk through them and realize people were living there hundreds and hundreds of years ago. It made us recognize what a young country the U.S. is. If something is a hundred years old we call it a historical monument. The ruins over the ruins are over a hundred years old. These are historical monuments.
We left the ruins behind and went in search of the American Embassy. When we left home we told everyone that we would check there for mail when we got to Mexico City.
John Mc got a letter from home. It had MONEY in it. We had a letter from my Mom with a little more detail about the escrow on the house. Looks like it would really sell this time. Sure hope so.
She says she called one of Randy’s friends and no one knows anything about a copy of a yearbook for him. This brings about some ill-tempered glowering from him.
After our experience with the bus we make a decision to take the subway back to the campground. That was a very good idea. The subway stations are beautiful. The floors and walls are marble. The waiting areas in the stations have mosaic murals on the walls. It was quick and clean and not as crowded as the busses. Turned into a nice peaceful ride, no strange experiences. The closest station to the campground was about a mile away. We got off to walk the rest of the way.
We were walking through a very nice residential neighborhood. The streets were cobblestone but wide and clean and there were sidewalks. There were lots of big trees and beautiful, impressive homes. Most of these were behind high fences topped with curly barbed wire or pieces of broken glass imbedded in cement. We discussed the fact that it would keep us out. Randy and John Mc were speculating on whether they were homes of diplomats or drug dealers. Just as we came to one of the gates it swung open and out rushed two men, back to back. They had on dark suits and were carrying machine guns. They paused to look up and down the street, machine guns pointing out. A white haired distinguished looking man slowly follows. We weren't sure what to do, hide behind a tree, put our hands up or run. Before we could make up our minds a big black car with tinted windows came around the corner and screeched to a stop, the doors opened and as fast as they appeared all three are gone.
“Drugs.” said Randy.
“Nope, politician.” countered John Mc.
“Who cares?” this from me. “Let’s just get out of here.”
We continued our walk (a little faster) along the street. Ahead was a charming plaza. White, yellow and gold flowers surrounded the crushed stone walkways. There was a whitewashed gazebo with wooden benches around it. Children ran up and down the steps laughing as they chased one another. Their parents sat in the shade and watched. I imagined this same scene has replayed daily since the plaza was built during the days of Cortez. The buildings on one side of the plaza are the original Spanish government buildings of Cortez. They were so covered with ivy and other creeping plants you could hardly see the stone they were built with. Under a tree by the gazebo was a shoeshine man. Gil and Paul skipped over to talk to him. He was clearly an older man. He’s had on an old military officer type hat and what hair I could see was more gray than black. His bushy gray eyebrows were in sharp contrast to his brown face. His smile was wide showing what white teeth he had left. His brown eyes twinkled. As he straightened up I saw that he was stooped shouldered, was it from age or from years of bending to shine shoes. He snapped his shoeshine rag to a tune from a portable radio that was under his bench.
Gil comes running over to say the man offered to shine his cowboy boots. How could we resist? "Can I, can I?" he pleaded.
He ran back and climbed up on the chair and held his feet out. We all stood around and watched as the man first dusted Gil’s boots then rubbed the polish in. Lastly, with much popping of his rag, he shined them. I could see the trees reflected in them when he finished. From the effort he put forth one would think they were $1000 boots instead of a little boys. Bill gave Gil the money to pay him, but he grinned, shook Gil’s hand, and refused to take it.
Every few steps Gil stopped pulled up his pants legs and admired his boots.
As we continued our walk we passed a tortilla “factory,” two women and two shinny machines in what appears to be one room of a house. The door was open so we stopped to watch. The women had on blue dresses and pink aprons; their hair was pulled back and covered with heavy black nets. Everything looked very clean. A big glob of dough got plopped into a large stainless steel bowl that sat on top of the machine. The dough came out of a funnel and a ball of it dropped on to a conveyer belt that went through the machine. When it came out on the other side there was a nicely formed corn tortilla. Every so often one would stop and pick up the formed tortillas and stack them by 12. We asked if we could take pictures. They smiles broadly and nod yes. When we finished one offered us a freshly made tortilla.
A couple of blocks from the RV park we discovered a Chocolate and Churro café. It was cooler and our walk had made us hungry so we went in. Everyone ordered big mugs of rich chocolate with whipped cream and hot churros. It was delicious. Too bad we found it our last day here. As we left the cozy café a cold drizzle started to fall.
The next day we were going to leave for Acapulco, back to the warm weather.
No one had been hurt. The motorhome was in one piece and the trailer was still attached and upright. Inside: every drawer was on the floor; all the cupboards were empty; the bathroom smelled like every bottle in there broke. As I look at the mess and realized we were all okay I started to laugh. I thought we had left earthquakes in California, but I guess we brought one with us. Everyone but Bill joined in. He was still slumped over the steering wheel, shaken and utterly exhausted. Later he told me he could look straight down at the pavement out of his side window and that he didn’t think we were going to make it. Thank God he was driving, how he managed to keep us on the road was a mystery and a miracle.
The mess defies description. There was not one thing that was where it belonged and not one area that wasn't coated with flour or sugar. Looking at the floor by the refrigerator, I was sure glad we ate the watermelon the day before.
The engine came to life, we were moving again, slowly. Bill found a place where we could safely pull off the road and we started to clean up what we could. Randy went up on the roof; everything was still there and looked okay. When we reached Mexico City we would do a complete job. The boys put the back window back in its frame and held it there with good old duct tape. It would have to be repaired or replaced. The TV and microwave went back where they belonged both still worked. In an hour we were back on the road, none the worse for our “hootchy-cootchy." We were a more subdued group than before. How quickly things can go wrong. Gil, Paul and John dropped off to sleep. Randy, John Mc and I were still trying to put things away and wipe up.
I didn't mention this in my next letter home.
The weather had turned colder and it started to rain just before we reach the out skirts of the city about dusk. This was unexpected.
Mexico City is huge. Using our trusty guidebook, we located a RV park right in the middle of the city. On one side of it was a stone building that was over 400 years old. The stones were black with age and covered with dark green moss. According to the guidebook it was used as a prison during the Conquistador times.
The park had hooks up for water, electricity, and sewer. Also there were nice shower rooms, with lots of hot water. The spaces were narrow, but there weren't many campers there so we could unhook the trailer and put it in a spot next to us. This was the first time we had to use our electricity converter to run the refrigerator and microwave. The electricity was 210 instead of 120.
There was no room for the tent so everyone had to sleep inside while we were there. No one complained. We started cleaning right away, especially the floor. That night we just crashed (bad choice of words). Everyone gave some sort of Thanks before going to sleep. The next day would be a very busy day.
There was ice on the windows and roof when we woke up. What happened to the tropical weather? It had been really cold during the night; after all it was still winter in the Northern Hemisphere. We had to dig out our heavy coats again; we just packed them while we were in Mazatlan.
A good part of the day was spent putting the motorhome back together. Thank goodness for the plastic covering the carpets. I can’t imagine even trying to get the mess out of the shag we would have had to tear it out. We made a list of what needed replacing: flour, sugar, salt, etc. etc. We should have scraped some of it off Paul and Gil. The guys put the back window in with caulking, screws and duck tape. It seemed like it might be okay. We were lucky it just twisted out and didn’t break. Everything still worked and as far as we could tell no major damage was done to the structure of the motorhome. The skin wasn't ripped; nothing bulged or sagged where it shouldn't have. We were leaking though. Water was coming in through the ceiling, probably from where the trunks were bolted to the roof. Randy went up to re-caulk all the screw and bolt holes.
Towards afternoon, we decided to take a break so we rented a Volkswagen bus to do some sightseeing.
Let me tell you right away. I did not see much as I was too busy hiding under the dashboard. Bill kept saying “Take a picture of that, take a picture of that!” I'd peek up over the dashboard and take a quick look. That -- was a building made entirely of blue and white ceramic tile. It was just magnificent. I took a chance and pulled my eyes off the road for a bit and looked in the guidebook. The building is called “The House of Tiles”. It is made entirely of tiles brought from Spain in 1708. Even the kids were in awe of it. My concentration quickly went back to the road! I just knew he wouldn't be able to navigate this traffic without my help.
“Look out where you're going. Why don’t you park this thing and let us out of here before we're all dead. You want pictures, let me out!” Looking back I'm surprised we didn't have more fights than we did on the trip. I certainly nagged enough.
If anyone had told me that driving in Mexico City was worse than driving on the highway I would have laughed. Well, I wasn't laughing then. There must be 10 million Volkswagen Bugs in the city and they all wanted to be precisely where we were going. I have never seen so many little, brightly colored automobiles in my life. Now I know why they call them “bugs."
All over the city there are wonderful statues, they are on little islands right in the middle of the intersections. The road makes a circle around the island and there are seven or eight avenues radiating off from each circle. You have to be real quick and know where you’re going or you’ll be driving around the same circle the rest of your life. On our first trip around a circle next to us was a car from Colorado, the driver, a man, was gritting his teeth, the woman was gesturing and shouting. The kids had their faces plastered against the windows and were both crying. They were still going around when we finally managed to get off.
“This is better than an E Ride at Disneyland!” observed Randy. Good, he can sit up front, with his knees right next to the bumper. Everyone else was pretty quiet; whether from fear or fascination I couldn't tell. Actually it was a good thing we rented this and weren't trying to get around in the motorhome. A lot of the streets right downtown are still cobblestone and very narrow.
“How come everyone is going the other way Dad?” Gil wanted to know.
I was wondering the same thing, but had the presence of mind not to mention it. But even I can understand the gestures we’re getting. Then we discovered why. We were on a one-way street going the wrong direction. The one-way streets weren't marked. If you were from the City you knew which ones they were, if you weren't Good Luck. We needed a better map as soon as possible.
Another thing, there are no stop signs at the smaller intersections. The first vehicle to blink his lights at the intersection has the right of way. The law of THE BIGGEST worked here too, so sometimes the crossing could get pretty interesting. It came down to who had the most/biggest cojones.
Up ahead we saw the buildings of the University of Mexico. They are absolutely magnificent. I still don’t have words to describe them. At least ten of the buildings are completely decorated with mosaic murals depicting the history of Mexico. What a pleasure it must be to attend classes there. I wish we could have spent more time looking at them.
“DAD! A Pizza Hut! DAD! Time to eat.” This from John who never wants to eat anything. A sight from home must be too much to pass up.
We found a parking place and went in all drooling with the thought of pizza. Well, this was not Pizza Hut, as we knew it. It was extremely expensive and the pizza had a very strange tasting sauce, more like chili. Never know unless you try. After eating, we went into a big market that was right next door. It had food, clothing, auto parts and anything else you think you might need. There was even a Laundromat attached. Luckily we had thrown all the dirty clothes in the VW in hopes of finding a laundry. We all traipsed into the market where I pulled out my list and started to buy the things we had to replace. Bill suggested I go do the laundry and he and the kids will do the shopping. We got the clothes and they left me at the laundry. After loading all the clothes into washers (almost every washer in the place) I went back into the store. I passed Randy and John Mc looking at clothes. John and Paul were looking at toys, and Bill was still putting groceries in the cart.
“Where’s Gil?”
“What do you mean, ‘Where’s Gil?’” Bill came back with.
“What do you mean, what do I mean, ‘Where’s Gil?’ He’s supposed to be with you.” We left the half filled grocery cart and started scouring the store, as we came across the boys we sent them out in search of a frightened, little, seven year old boy who can’t speak Spanish, lost in a huge, foreign market. I ran back to the Laundromat to check on the clothes. There were two women at the back of the room, one was ironing and the other mending. They could tell that I was upset and (I think) asked me what was the matter. My Spanish was almost nonexistent, but I was so worried I needed to talk to someone. I tried to explain to them that I had lost my son in the market. From the startled looks on their faces, the clicking of their tongues and the fact that they were backing away from me, I think I may have said something else.
A few minutes later Randy, John Mc and Gil came to get me. They found him sitting on the floor looking at comic books in the back of the store. He didn't know he was lost.
“I knew where I was Mom. Why didn’t you just come get me?” He couldn't understand why everyone was so upset.
When I told Bill about my conversation with the women he almost fell over laughing. According to him I said something like, “My eye is gone in the market.” Oho…hijo - eye..son, sounded the same to me. No wonder they looked at me so strange.
We bought Randy (Randy - of the blue jeans only Randy?) a new pair of pants, beige and close fitting, dress type, only $13 US. Then wait while his boots were re-soled and the toes of John Mc's shoes re-stitched.
By the time we were back in the VW it was dark so we decided to drive around the Zona Rosa, at that time it was the tourist section of the city, very upscale and fancy, reminded me of Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. I didn't have to worry that the stores were closed. I wouldn’t be shopping there anyway.
There were Federales all over. Everywhere you looked were soldiers with guns. Guarding buildings, inside and out, riding in army trucks and just walking around. It was so strange to see this, I don't remember the last time I saw a soldier let alone one with a gun. The scary thing was they held their guns as if they were ready to use them. One thing you didn't do was point your finger at them and say “Bang!” This was not a game. Randy and John Mc were impressed.
The next morning it was cool again. The change of weather was probably due to the fact that Mexico City is 7200 feet high. We wanted to go downtown and explore some more. Because we were going to visit the Cathedral Bill suggested I wear a dress instead of slacks. You can take the boy out of the church but not the church out of the boy. Off we went to the bus stop to catch one of the electric busses to go downtown. NO MORE VW! We'd spent years teaching the boys to be respectful of their elders, pregnant women, etc. Well, forget all that. If you didn't shove, push and generally look out for yourself you didn't get on the bus. Keeping the seven of us together and on the same bus was a challenge. Bill shoved the older ones and I grabbed the younger ones and drag them with me. Poor kids, I think, by the time this trip is over their arms will be 3 feet long. We found seats but …in different parts of the bus. It’s a nice, modern bus, but way too small for the number of people who managed to get on it.
The passengers were another story. Neither John had found a seat. They were holding for dear life onto the straps hanging down from the ceiling. Randy was squeezed into a seat in front of me between a dour looking old woman in a heavy brown winter coat and a young man who was coatless but had on a flannel cowboy shirt and a felt cowboy hat. As we started up he nudged Randy with his elbow and started to talk to him. A great deal of hand waving and a spray of spit accompanied every word. Randy leaned closer to the old woman, who pushed back and tried to ignore him. The guy kept poking at him until Randy responded by nodding and shrugging. Whatever he was saying must be funny cause he was laughing and grinning all the time he was talking. Then he stuck his grimy hand into his shirt pocket and pulled out a nice, big, red chili pepper. He offered Randy a bite. Randy cringed and looked around trying to spot an empty seat. There weren't any. All he could do was shake his head and hold his hands up saying NO! NO! He was sitting as close to the severe woman as possible. She was staring down her nose at both of them and mumbling into her rosary beads. Ward off that devil.
Gil and Bill are sitting right behind the bus driver who kept turning around to talk to them. Seems he took a shine to Gil and asked him if he wanted to sit up front and help drive the bus. Bill had to restrain Gil who thought that was the best idea he had heard all day. The entire trip everyone talked to both Paul and Gil - must be ‘cause they were so “blond and cute.”
At each stop more people got on the already crowded bus. No one got off. I couldn't even see the Johns any more. I hoped they didn’t get pushed out the back door.
“Mom should I get up and give that lady my seat?” Paul is tugging at my arm. He pointed at a grandmotherly looking woman. I was afraid that if I let him get out of his seat I’d never see him again. So I said no and looked the other way.
Time to get off. Good! We could see the Johns and motioned to them to get off. This was as hard as getting on. Involved lots of pushing and shoving to get to the doors.
“Jeeze, I feel like I took a bath in tequila.” were the first words out of Randy’s mouth. “Did you see that guy and that chili? It smelled terrible.”
Bill grinned, “You should have taken it, offering a chili is just like offering a piece of gum. By not taking it you weren’t very polite.”
“Well, next time I’ll be sure to tell them to give you a bite.”
“Mom, the man asked me if I wanted to drive the bus and he really meant it. But Dad wouldn’t let me even try.” this from Gil who thought he was a big shot.
We were right downtown in Cathedral Square. Government buildings of Mexico take up two sides of the square, one side has Aztec ruins that were being excavated and the Cathedral is on the other. We get off the bus by the government buildings, so we were looking across the square at the Cathedral. It is enormous - larger than a city block in size.
“Look at the way it tilts.” John said as he pointed to the ends of the building. The ground under Mexico City is an old lakebed and parts of the city were slowly sinking. This was really apparent when you stood across the plaza and looked at the length of the Cathedral. Both end sections were sinking as the ground settled beneath them. The further from the center building the more pronounced the slant of the structure.
In front of the main church the square was crowded. There were the faithful coming to worship, tourists like ourselves, and beggars: women with children, men with dirty, oozing sores and/or without legs and children, bare-armed, barefoot and alone. Some of the older children approach Paul with boxes of gum in their dirty hands.
“Chiclets.” “Chiclets?” For once he was speechless. He had finally met someone he didn't want to talk to. Gil was making sure he stayed real close to Dad. This was a new experience for them. They had never seen people begging before.
The Cathedral was absolutely wondrous. I felt I could stand there looking at it for hours and not see everything. Over the years several different sections have been added to it. The first part of the church was built during the time of Cortez. One section is adobe. We could see the original building material where the adobe was coming off. It was built of rocks held together with some type of mortar. Another whole section is completely covered with religious carvings and statutes. The walls are three to four feet thick in places. The doors are made of wood with wooden pegs and leather straps holding the planks together. The individual pieces of wood are twelve inches thick and 15 feet tall. Each massive door has a small, person size door cut into it. To go through this you have to step up and over the sill. We stepped over into the dark interior.
Incredible!
Inside was breathtaking. There are at least 12 altars all made of gold and decorated with precious jewels. We were all standing in hushed awe. Each section of the church has a main altar and several smaller altars along the sides. These too are gold. Paintings of saints and the holy family are wonders to behold. Some of the paintings had to be at least twenty feet high. There are giant pillars of marble soaring up to the ceilings fifty feet above the floor. Talk about feeling insignificant. I wondered what this place is worth? How many of those beggars could just one painting feed?
“Let’s go,” Paul whispers as he takes my hand. “I don’t like it in here. It’s scary.”
“Do you want to go out and get some chiclets?” I asked him. Well okay so sometimes I’m not very nice.
“NO.” He left me and went to Dad.
Back outside we bought a mango from one of the many pushcarts. How could something that looked so good taste so terrible? I didn’t know they put hot sauce on them. Ick. Yep, I was learning something new every day.
We crossed the street to visit the Aztec ruins that were being excavated. The sign said they were discovered when the city was putting in new sewer lines. Seems like the Spaniards had a habit of building on top of the Indian holy places. We looked around with amazement. There were paths leading between the foundations of buildings and stairways. Everything was build out of irregular cut rocks. The outer and inner edges were almost smooth. It was fascinating to walk through them and realize people were living there hundreds and hundreds of years ago. It made us recognize what a young country the U.S. is. If something is a hundred years old we call it a historical monument. The ruins over the ruins are over a hundred years old. These are historical monuments.
We left the ruins behind and went in search of the American Embassy. When we left home we told everyone that we would check there for mail when we got to Mexico City.
John Mc got a letter from home. It had MONEY in it. We had a letter from my Mom with a little more detail about the escrow on the house. Looks like it would really sell this time. Sure hope so.
She says she called one of Randy’s friends and no one knows anything about a copy of a yearbook for him. This brings about some ill-tempered glowering from him.
After our experience with the bus we make a decision to take the subway back to the campground. That was a very good idea. The subway stations are beautiful. The floors and walls are marble. The waiting areas in the stations have mosaic murals on the walls. It was quick and clean and not as crowded as the busses. Turned into a nice peaceful ride, no strange experiences. The closest station to the campground was about a mile away. We got off to walk the rest of the way.
We were walking through a very nice residential neighborhood. The streets were cobblestone but wide and clean and there were sidewalks. There were lots of big trees and beautiful, impressive homes. Most of these were behind high fences topped with curly barbed wire or pieces of broken glass imbedded in cement. We discussed the fact that it would keep us out. Randy and John Mc were speculating on whether they were homes of diplomats or drug dealers. Just as we came to one of the gates it swung open and out rushed two men, back to back. They had on dark suits and were carrying machine guns. They paused to look up and down the street, machine guns pointing out. A white haired distinguished looking man slowly follows. We weren't sure what to do, hide behind a tree, put our hands up or run. Before we could make up our minds a big black car with tinted windows came around the corner and screeched to a stop, the doors opened and as fast as they appeared all three are gone.
“Drugs.” said Randy.
“Nope, politician.” countered John Mc.
“Who cares?” this from me. “Let’s just get out of here.”
We continued our walk (a little faster) along the street. Ahead was a charming plaza. White, yellow and gold flowers surrounded the crushed stone walkways. There was a whitewashed gazebo with wooden benches around it. Children ran up and down the steps laughing as they chased one another. Their parents sat in the shade and watched. I imagined this same scene has replayed daily since the plaza was built during the days of Cortez. The buildings on one side of the plaza are the original Spanish government buildings of Cortez. They were so covered with ivy and other creeping plants you could hardly see the stone they were built with. Under a tree by the gazebo was a shoeshine man. Gil and Paul skipped over to talk to him. He was clearly an older man. He’s had on an old military officer type hat and what hair I could see was more gray than black. His bushy gray eyebrows were in sharp contrast to his brown face. His smile was wide showing what white teeth he had left. His brown eyes twinkled. As he straightened up I saw that he was stooped shouldered, was it from age or from years of bending to shine shoes. He snapped his shoeshine rag to a tune from a portable radio that was under his bench.
Gil comes running over to say the man offered to shine his cowboy boots. How could we resist? "Can I, can I?" he pleaded.
He ran back and climbed up on the chair and held his feet out. We all stood around and watched as the man first dusted Gil’s boots then rubbed the polish in. Lastly, with much popping of his rag, he shined them. I could see the trees reflected in them when he finished. From the effort he put forth one would think they were $1000 boots instead of a little boys. Bill gave Gil the money to pay him, but he grinned, shook Gil’s hand, and refused to take it.
Every few steps Gil stopped pulled up his pants legs and admired his boots.
As we continued our walk we passed a tortilla “factory,” two women and two shinny machines in what appears to be one room of a house. The door was open so we stopped to watch. The women had on blue dresses and pink aprons; their hair was pulled back and covered with heavy black nets. Everything looked very clean. A big glob of dough got plopped into a large stainless steel bowl that sat on top of the machine. The dough came out of a funnel and a ball of it dropped on to a conveyer belt that went through the machine. When it came out on the other side there was a nicely formed corn tortilla. Every so often one would stop and pick up the formed tortillas and stack them by 12. We asked if we could take pictures. They smiles broadly and nod yes. When we finished one offered us a freshly made tortilla.
A couple of blocks from the RV park we discovered a Chocolate and Churro café. It was cooler and our walk had made us hungry so we went in. Everyone ordered big mugs of rich chocolate with whipped cream and hot churros. It was delicious. Too bad we found it our last day here. As we left the cozy café a cold drizzle started to fall.
The next day we were going to leave for Acapulco, back to the warm weather.
INSTANT CHAOS. Everything was pitching from side to side. There were dreadful bangs and cracks. It sounded like every joint and seam in the motorhome was coming apart. Everything inside that wasn't tied down was airborne. The TV flew off its rack just missing John in the back bed. The metal canisters shot off the counter; their lids separated as they bounced off and hit the floor. Flour, sugar and coffee formed a cloud in the air. Paul and Gil were tossed around like rag dolls. Their game went every which way. With a screech the microwave slid out of the cupboard and dangled by its cord, one corner just touching the floor. Cupboard doors exploded open; the contents spilled out. They slammed shut and flew open again, each time more coming out. The lock on the refrigerator door broke with a crack; catsup, fruit, lettuce, milk…everything flew out to bounce off the opposite wall and fall to the floor. The motion and the noise were terrifying. It seems like it would never stop. Drawers continued to bang open, and then slam shut. Dishes, pots and pans bounced off each other then the counters and walls to crash to the floor where they continue their crazy dance. No one made a sound; everything happened so fast and it was too frightening.
As quickly as the nightmare began it stopped.
Somehow we had remained upright and on the pavement. In the silence, I could hear Bill’s breathing as he leaned his head on the wheel.
As quickly as the nightmare began it stopped.
Somehow we had remained upright and on the pavement. In the silence, I could hear Bill’s breathing as he leaned his head on the wheel.
So far, we had spent about $700 U.S. of our $4500 we started with. (I didn't know how much money we had - or rather didn't have - when we started the trip. I didn't find out until years later. )
We were driving through mountains again but the weather was cooler now that we were at a higher altitude. The road was a little wider, however as usual there were no shoulders and here and there pieces of the edge of the asphalt have broken off leaving a drop off of a few inches to the sandy dirt.
There wasn't very much traffic so we were making pretty good time, about 55/60 miles an hour. . Bill was driving, I was sitting in the front seat reading about Mexico City, Paul and Gil were playing a game on the floor and John was in the back sleeping. Randy and John Mc were playing cribbage on the table right behind me. A tape played quietly in the background. It was a nice day, cooler and a little overcast. I was looking forward to spending time in Mexico City.
Suddenly all hell broke lose. As near as we could make out when talking about it later, one of the right wheels of the motorhome went over a section of the road where a chunk had broken off, (or a chunk broke off when the motorhome went over it) and the wheel dropped off the pavement. As the motorhome jerked and Bill moved the wheel to compensate the trailer hit the same hole and begin to fishtail. Bill fought the wheel. But the trailer had control; it was pushing and pulling us all over the road. The trailer tried to go one-way and the motorhome another; causing them to twist and buck like frightened horses.
We were driving through mountains again but the weather was cooler now that we were at a higher altitude. The road was a little wider, however as usual there were no shoulders and here and there pieces of the edge of the asphalt have broken off leaving a drop off of a few inches to the sandy dirt.
There wasn't very much traffic so we were making pretty good time, about 55/60 miles an hour. . Bill was driving, I was sitting in the front seat reading about Mexico City, Paul and Gil were playing a game on the floor and John was in the back sleeping. Randy and John Mc were playing cribbage on the table right behind me. A tape played quietly in the background. It was a nice day, cooler and a little overcast. I was looking forward to spending time in Mexico City.
Suddenly all hell broke lose. As near as we could make out when talking about it later, one of the right wheels of the motorhome went over a section of the road where a chunk had broken off, (or a chunk broke off when the motorhome went over it) and the wheel dropped off the pavement. As the motorhome jerked and Bill moved the wheel to compensate the trailer hit the same hole and begin to fishtail. Bill fought the wheel. But the trailer had control; it was pushing and pulling us all over the road. The trailer tried to go one-way and the motorhome another; causing them to twist and buck like frightened horses.
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A few days in Mexico City