Mexican Madness; 2006 in Aguascalientes - A Fab Road Trip in March

That road trip we took looking for the right place to set up school. Leaving Aguascalientes (Aawa-scaliENtes..I’m getting better at the language) I spotted this amazing mountain..does it compare to Table Mountain in South Africa Sean & Claire? Don’t care..well I do..but THIS mountain has grabbed my heart..about as special as my beloved Rangitoto Island.
We went from Guadalajara (Gwa-da-la-hara), on to Tequila, the home of that vicious brew native to Mexico..a tiny wee town with little promise of good money; up to Magdalena which we thought could be promising but turned out to be no good..pooh, it smelled bad too..like open sewers! We beat a hasty retreat back to Tequila for the night. The lure of a tequila tour was too great, in spite of us both hating the stuff. Well, it would just be wrong NOT to visit Tequila’s ‘claim to fame’ distilleries, wouldn’t it? Very much like a vineyard tour, you get the history talk, the cultivation info (it takes 5 years for a blue agave plant to mature sufficiently to produce its ‘poison’), to taste tequila through all its stages of growth, production, and maturation..evil, Evil, EVIL! Shudder, shudder, SHUDDER!! Actually, the best stage in my opinion is eating the flesh of the raw root that’s been freshly dug up! The next stage is when the root has been ‘steamed & roasted’ & comes out a stringy sugary mess..tasting very much like the malt my mum tried to make me take a dessertspoon of every morning when I was a kid..gag, heave..”oh Lord, where’s the bin & the vomit bag!” Once to the liquid extraction stage, I never made it past wetting my lips once & shuddering with every tiny cup, until we got to the end of the tour and were given a couple of marguerita’s. Never had one before..surprisingly yummy. Another night in Tequila..driving fitness was somewhat questionable. Next to impossible to find anything but tequila to drink in this town; absolutely NO wine! Flavoured tequila’s abound..cherry, mango, orange, peach, and some flavour that couldn’t be translated to English. “OK, thanks for that, we’ll take that lone bottle of exorbitantly priced vodka!” “Salud!” (Salute..but the Spanish ‘t’ is so hard it almost becomes a ‘d’)
The next day we headed south, towards the coast and spent the night in a small place called Bucerias which has become a resort town..reminiscent of Port Douglas though not quite as swanky; it’s sad to see so many arrogant & spoilt foreigners in this country of gentle friendly people.
A walk on the beach, and I was like a little girl who’d never seen one before. Shoes kicked off, squiggly walking, playing with the waves, sucking in the salt air, hair turning into a salty humid curly wild mess! I haven’t been on a beach in more than 12-months..that’s peculiar for this Kiwi! We stayed in a quaint little hotel (more like camping ground cabins, complete with bunk beds and gecko’s..minus a toilet seat) on the top of a hill overlooking the beach and bay, and away from all the holiday makers. The view was breathtaking; unfortunately the panoramic photos I took turned out to be duds..successful night scene photography continues to elude me, it's especially difficult without a tripod.
Up and off the next day, heading for Puerto Vallarta with no intention of looking at business possibilities..too big, too touristy. “Yuk!” we both say. Rene wanted to show me this city just so I can say I’ve seen it, and because we wanted to try to renew my tourist visa there. My fault, I screwed up when I entered Mexico, requesting a visa for 90 days instead of 180..I was so fried after that epic journey from Russia my brain had turned to sloppy frijoles. Puerto Vallarta is really big (think Surfer’s Paradise x HUGE), though they’re marginally more considerate of the beachfront here), and chock full of Americans and Canadians.
At the airport, they wanted to charge me 800 peso’s (US$80) to renew my visa..by rights they should renew it at no charge, but 200 peso’s is an acceptable sting. We decided to let my visa expire and have me an illegal alien (OH MY GOD! I’M ILLEGAL..I’M A LAW BREAKER..I COULD GET DEPORTED FOR THIS!) until we returned to Aguascalientes, where the Immigration people are much more reasonable & very charming..as you’ve already heard.
The airport was doing a roaring trade charging departing Yanks an additional US$40 departure tax per head to get home..there was a conference party of 200 people trying to get back to The States and begging cash off each other to pay this unexpected fee..I didn’t need to give the airport MY bucks!

An aside: Mexico is more than a little ‘edgy’ when it comes to the law, but way less dangerous than I was led to believe..in MY experience. Very much like the Russian police, slip a 200 peso note into a Mexican cop’s hand & you can be on your way.
I’ve been unwittingly involved in some ‘shonky’ stuff that has had me break some pretty wet sweats once I found out what was happening. Nothing really bad; actually, most of you probably did this stuff in your teens..it’s just that I’ve always been a nerdy good girl. Ya-aw-awn!
One of my questionable involvements was helping to disconnect and remove an illuminated sign from the side of a building..I thought everything was on the up-and-up, but should’ve realised it wasn’t given the hour of night we did it, and the company we were keeping. Really nice guys who’ve been on the wrong side of prison bars & have MOSTLY reformed their ways. Apparently it was a repossession deal. The deposit for the sign was repaid later..but still … !
Volume 2..The next adventure..Mexican Madness!

We spent the rest of the day driving down to Barra de Navidad..a lovely wee coast town with a fantastic beach. It was here that I met that boxer dog I wrote about previously; and we made some ‘friends’.
The hotel we stayed in has a peculiar little community of Americans and Canadians who get together every year here, and they ‘adopt’ newcomers whom they deem worthy. The first night we met a couple of young women from Austria; they were so sweet, but were eventually driven away by Nathaniel, one of the ‘community’ guys. He claimed he was from Canada, but after some questioning we learned he’s really a Californian now living in Canada (that figures..I’m discovering it’s the Californians I'm not so fond of, rather than all Americans). He’s my age and behaved like a total mamón (idiot).
Next came Gary, a 60-something retired show biz promoter; a real character when loaded and relaxed with tequila and marijuana. ‘Straight’, he’s a complex personality who, whilst sitting at the table with the entire group, manages to keep himself aloof. Rene was adamant that Gary’s ‘on the run’..”Mexico’s full of them..you can spot them a mile off!” Maybe Rene’s right..Gary was very careful about asking if it was ok to take a photo of us..every single day! Only the wary would have so much consideration for the potentially wary! His brand of tequila is the nicest I’ve ever tasted (if the word ‘nice’ can legitimately be applied to this beverage); Azul is the brand name, try it if you can find it..it’s quite smooth and doesn’t make me shudder and my face screw up like other brands do.
After Gary came Mike..a sweet old guy (65) from Washington State, who took a shine to me and decided I should hear his tragic life history. He confirmed Rene’s suspicions about Gary; smallish, mostly personal use quantities of coke, he’s ‘done time’ in the States for drug trafficking..there was that one BIG deal...DOH! BUSTED..5 years inside!! Mexico’s now a tolerant & friendly haven. Mike had some nasty wounds on his face, the result of a drunken night on tequila a couple of weeks ago with Gary (face-plant on the road), that weren’t healing Out came my pawpaw ointment, and over the next 4 days it worked its magic. “Pru, I love you! If you ever think you could handle a silly old man …!”
Along came Francois..French Canadian (short but sexy, & a really angry man..definitely NOT sexy), & his ‘potential love’ Diana from Connecticut (a lovely woman); Sandy next, a darling from Canada, and her ADHT son Julian who was a real cutie. I gave him my camera for the night..snap happy little man, he took some really good pics! Sandy’s probably a couple of years younger than me. We hit it off immediately and caught up every evening, talking about our respective day, and things ranging from bringing up kids, to art, to music, to books, to traveling, to life in general.
Verna and Mary were met on the 2nd day. A couple of older chicks from Canada who’d teamed up due to their closeness in age. Verna had infected bites on her ankles..go the pawpaw ointment! These two girls were intrigued by my first aid kit; pawing through it to see what tools and treatments with which a Kiwi travels. Enough of that, they were into Gary’s room for several spliffs and some tequila. I was appointed “The Keeper of the Table”, meaning I was expected to be the 1st one there every evening, & remain until the last one dropped. It wasn’t so much that I accepted the ‘role’, it just occurred naturally; Rene dumped me at the table late every afternoon whilst he attended to domestic matters, & I soaked up the great company until late every night.
The 3rd night, I met Nathaniel’s partner, Sue, and his almost adult kids. His kids are fab! Also, a couple of boys on holiday from the States, who it turns out went to school with Nathaniel’s daughter. These young men were honey’s too! Barra’s such a tiny place, we bumped into these guys several times every day. Finally, we met the woman whose room was next to the outdoor community table. The 1st night we were familiar with her under-par condition; she’d spent the evening downing tequila with Gary..poor lady, her bathroom being on the courtyard side, we experienced every vomiting trip to it. I can’t remember her name, but she’s from Finland and now lives in Canada. Leaving the following day, she’d collected a couple of rocks which she gave to me for safe keeping until she returns in a couple of years. Aye? Happy to do so though; one’s volcanic, the other is a tactile little number..oval, smooth, the perfect size for my palm, and begging to be rubbed, stroked, and warmed. A handy little paperweight it is too.
Mary stumbled in full of a head cold. Out came the ‘Kiwi Kit’..Lemsip, Panadol, and ‘Temp-Forte’ dispensed with clear instructions. “Ni-night!”
Treated to some great live music..Nathaniel plays 16th Century lute stuff..actually, very cool! He has an amazing voice too. Guys, PLEASE keep your legs crossed and down when wearing baggy shorts, ESPECIALLY if you don’t wear underpants! Take it from me..that view’s NOT alluring!
His son Ben is into jazz guitar..right up my alley! I chair-jiggled & foot-tapped the night away.
Further interrogation of Nathaniel..his mother was Japanese..ahh yes, it’s coming together..now I understand the way you look!
Day 4: Bumped into a rejuvenated Mary in the morning (thank you soooo much; you and your kit are wonderful!) Verna’s ill now, and so I was dispensing again. Late that evening Verna emerged. Gary was insistent that she have a shot of tequila, she was determined she shouldn’t for health reasons. Thinking of the Scots and their hot toddy’s, and the Russians with their peppered vodka for cold & flu treatments, I suggested it might be a good idea. 2 – 4 hasty shots later Verna was warm, glowing, and off to bed. The next morning she was thrilled with ‘the miracle cure’! Hahahaha..I’m such a medical genius with these people! Stop! My sides are splitting!
In the meantime, Rene took Gary & Mike on a ‘budget’ search for their blood pressure medications. Successful mission for them, a few ½ price catch-up pills taken. I found mozzie coils; happy campers around the table. Barra mozzies are small, inconspicuous, and leave a nasty itch in their wake. No more! There are enough coils to keep the community itch-free for weeks after we leave tomorrow.
Final ‘friend’. This woman had been hobbling in and out the entire time we were here, and in no mood for socializing, nor were the ‘community’ keen on encouraging her to ‘play’..”She’s a hypochondriac Pru, ignore her!” On this, our final night, she paused long enough for me to ask what troubled her. She’d broken her big toe the week before and it wasn’t getting better in spite of the medical treatment she’d received from the local doctor. I asked if she’d let me take a look at it, and reluctantly she agreed, though she was very prickly about it. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at! The bandaging was atrocious..loose and wobbly, and she’d been told to wear jandles! Remembering what MY doctor told me when I broke my own toe, I re-bound her nice & firm, and then taken to her room, advised which tight shoes to wear for the next week.
What a dag! The next morning I was her new ‘best friend’..”NZ people are soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo special! I’ve had one in my life where-ever I’ve been!” Her toe was giving no pain, she could walk properly again, and life was back to being bright; she’d even gone night-clubbing after I’d ‘fixed’ her last night. She gave me a beaded wrist band as a thank you and farewell gift. The others had to quietly eat humble-pie..the poor woman really had been in pain!
Another wee aside..if EVER I needed convincing that plastic surgery in an effort to fight off the aging process is simply wrong (which I don’t), she did the trick. Her face looked late-forties, the rest of her had to be late-fifties/early-sixties! I guess that either ‘cut & tuck’ doesn’t extend to the rest of your body, OR it’s just waaay too expensive to go there. Personally, I’d rather not have the ‘pick ‘n’ mix’ look. If my body’s going to look like a walnut..then my face should too!
We left ‘Barra’ with everyone asking us to return soon, and offers of places to stay..Mike’s making the move permanently, and has offered beds whenever we can make it down.
Since leaving, regular e-mails from Gary and Mike have come through. Sandy gave me her email address, but me being a bit squiffy that night, I’m not sure if the obscure & unidentified address in my notebook is hers..& I didn’t give her mine. DAMN IT!

Back to Aguascalientes for a week; re-ensconced in my last accommodation there, and I found Marta, my landlady, had a ‘Montezuma’ tummy. Ginger tablets dispensed (thanks Sean & Blackmore’s)..a happy lady the next morning. My 1st Aid kit needs some serious replenishing!

Guadalajara is the 2nd largest city in Mexico (second only to Mexico City), with a population in excess of 10 million people..”Dios mio!” (d-yos mee-yaw..My God!) says the chick from a COUNTRY of 4 million people. The ‘suburb’ we’ve chosen to focus on, due to the government contract, has a population in excess of 1 million people. Do you get it? A city’s SUBURB is the size of the largest CITY in New Zealand! I can’t come to terms with it!! When I tell people I choose places because they’re small & I don’t like big cities, then find the place I’ve landed in is more than twice the size of my home COUNTRY..well, I just feel stupid..and I also realise how small, insignificant, frenetic, special, & talented a country I come from. Mexicans are endlessly amused by the fact that NZ has only 4 million people, and 44 million sheep..and far too many have heard the jokes about antipodean men and their sheep. Confused folk, I assure them New Zealand is not one of Australia’s islands! ;oP
One of the very nice things about Guadalajara is it’s lush. Grass, spongy & bright green; jacaranda trees in all their purple flowered glory; bourganvillea in hues of red, orange, pale pink, & cerise; orange trees in blossom..the aroma rockets my senses to heaven!
On the down-side, the neighbourhood roads are made of black rocks (obsidian I think) pounded into the ground..an uneven cobbled effect. It looks quaint, but plays merry hell with cars & ankles. The footpaths are OUTRAGEOUS! Craters here, cracked & erupted there; it makes for treacherous walking.

Hope you’re all happy and coping with Autumn..oops, I mean Fall (struggling with the American English vocab I’m expected to use)


Hasta luego (asta lwego..see you later),
Pru (have had to drop the ‘e’ off the end of my name..confused pronunciation, and like Russians, Mexicans understand ‘Prudence’ well..eeeeyukkkkkk!)