By Mari Pintkowski

Note: This is the 11th part of the serialization of Mari Pintkowski’s book, “Embarking on the Mariposa Trail.” The book is available at local bookstores along the Riviera Maya or on the author’s web site www.laselvamariposa.com For previous chapters see the PMN archives.

From Gulf to Shining Sea.

In the morning, a fog surrounded the sleepy city that seemed to be in no hurry to get moving. Our maps indicated that today we would be driving toward the coastal city of Vera Cruz by way of Puebla.The city of Pachua fell from sight as we maneuvered out of town on a four-lane highway with no speed bumps. Within a few hours, we began to see raw concrete structures stacked on the hillsides and some tent cities with homes pieced together from wood, tin and plastic on the other side of the road. The flow of traffic increased tenfold, and Lou took his place in one of the lanes as he slipped into taxi-driver mode.

"Could this possibly be the outskirts of Mexico City that we drove 500 miles out of our way to avoid?" Lou spouted in a rather frustrated tone.

I held my breath and went to the maps to try to figure out what went wrong. We got off the expressway and drove around in circles, asking directions from the gas station attendant and two different policemen. On one of the extremely potholed streets we saw a man driving a horse and buggy stop at a large pile of discarded trash and begin to sift through it for any materials that could be recycled.

We knew we were finally on the right trail when we saw the snow-peaked mountains and a newly posted sign to Puebla. We ascended the mountain on a six-lane, freshly paved highway. Lou had a smile on his face when he said, "Moe, when you get that Porsche Boxster for me for my birthday (a long -standing joke of his), I want to return and take it on this stretch of road and show these rookies just how to drive. And you can be sure I am not going to observe the 55-mile-an-hour speed limit!"

The vistas, as well as the well-maintained highway with lots of twists and turns were tempting to him. As for me, I had no such dream. The descent was fast, and we were soon in the midst of farm country. It wasn't surprising that the main crop was corn. Another curious sight caught our eyes. Men were riding three-wheel-tricycles with a cargo car attached and driving wagons and trucks heavily loaded with long-stem marigolds. Later I learned that they were the traditional flowers, cemasuchil, used for decorating altars for the Day of the Dead celebration on Nov. 1^st.

We by-passed Puebla, and were amazed that we were going over another mountain pass and were soon swallowed up by a fog, presenting us with yet another challenge: no visibility. We traveled over a series of very sophisticated bridges and well-lit tunnels. The last mountain pass, encircled by a halo of clouds, brought us down to the city of Vera Cruz. Rain fell in sheets, and 5-foot waves pounded the malecon (waterfront promenade) in front of the modern hotels. We found a lovely hotel with a restaurant on one of the back streets. As we sipped the wine we had planned to open on our first night on the Mariposa Trail, we reviewed our eventful seven-hour drive at 43 miles an hour.

The next day we journeyed across 12 rivers with names like Rio Jamapa on bridges of varying degrees of sturdiness. The vistas included orange groves, papaya trees and flat fields of sugar cane and pineapples, along with tall swaying palms. No two days were the same, and today would bring its own unique adventure.

The two-lane toll road that we had spent the last three days looking for was scattered with potholes worse than the secondary road we had left. It was one of those humongous holes that snapped a spring on the trailer. We managed to creep on until we came to the toll booth. The mechanic there shook his head and suggested that we go into the next town, 40 miles away, to buy or have a new spring fabricated. To make a long story short, I stayed with the trailer while Lou went off into a town that I could not even pronounce the name of. Four hours later, he returned with a newly built spring to find me in tears, imagining that I might be going home with the snack-bar attendants.

Lou set up shop in the parking lot. He put the two trailer jacks in place and started to raise the 4,000 pounds, and a snap was heard as the trailer came crashing down to the ground. The two built-in trailer jacks had just broken their welds and snapped off. Lou stood back with his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief. Within minutes, six men came out of the darkness to offer their assistance. They talked together and walked back to their trucks. They returned with logs, jacks, flashlights, and tools. Lou joined them in the task at hand. Within 45 minutes, the new spring was on, and the trailer was reattached and ready to go. Lou tried to force money on the helpers, but they refused.

With my eyes and mouth wide open I said, "Where did these Mayan angels come from, just as we needed them?"

Lou softly said, "You got me! Did you notice that they disappeared as quietly as they appeared? Someone was watching over us today."

Comments (0)

Show/Hide comment form

Name

Email

Comment

Write the displayed characters

Add Comment