Home at last (my Mexican home, that is)

It was sunrise when I saw my daughter Tara off at the airport, a tearful farewell to be sure, but one filled with joy at knowing that we are both following our dreams, and that the distance, as my sister Tami once said, is only physical.

It was the journey I had dreamed of and then laid awake nights worrying about: Would we really be able to pull it off? In the end, we did. We spent 10 action-packed days on the road, covering more than 2,500 miles – every step along the way, receiving reminders to SLOW DOWN and to take care of the present moment.

Some of those reminders were costly, others just funny. Many times I looked in the rear-view mirror at the utility trailer I was hauling and thought of my pioneer great-great-grandmother Caroline, who packed all her belongings into a covered wagon and traveled to the wilds of Missouri to start a new life. Apparently some of her pioneer spirit was my heritage, but in an era of internet, motor vehicles and airlines, it’s a much, much easier proposition.

Tami and I left my parents’ home in the country south of St. Louis on Friday, long after our scheduled departure, because of the many complications involved in purchasing and outfitting the vehicle I had acquired for this move: first the 4×8 utility trailer, then the Toyota 4-runner to haul it, and then, after the transmission began going out on it a few miles down the road, a Toyota pickup truck. Much distress surrounding that incident but thanks to my father, an excellent mechanic with a hobby of buying and repairing Toyotas and reselling them, I was able to quickly locate a second vehicle and leave the first one with him to get repaired and resell – and then, a camper shell to install on my new truck within a few miles of his house. It wasn’t a perfect fit, however, and required some clever and time-consuming engineering to install it. Not too many people would have even attempted such a thing, but Dad pulled it off. Together with the vehicle inspection and registration, we lost a day, but gained a warm and loving night at Mom and Dad’s, which I wouldn’t have given up for anything.

Now we were finally on our way to Columbia, to say goodbye to sister Toni and pick up the trailer andTara, who would accompany me to my Houston storage locker to pick up my belongings, my San Antonio “home” for the night, and then on to the border and to Teopantli Kalpulli, an ecovillage on the outskirts of Guadalajara, where I will be making my new southern home.

First, however, we had a final family visit at my brother Scott’s beautiful country home in Edgerton, Kansas. We arrived at about 2:30 am on Saturday the 8th to find him and sister Tasha, unbelievably, waiting up for us, catching up on each others’ stories. We caught a few hours’ sleep before enjoying a great breakfast, rides on Oreo, one of the family’s three horses, and a recording session for the album Trina is creating for our Mom and Dad.

Here are the photos of that little adventure. I’m sorry I can’t include a taste of the refreshing below-zero temperatures!

Scott was able to upload Garmin’s Mexico data package onto my Nuvi GPS device, which I’m happy to report is a fantastic addition to my life – it performed wonderfully throughout the cross-country trip and navigated the streets of Saltillo, San Luis Potosi, Guadalajara and Puerto Vallarta with barely a hitch, and saved us many hours of driving in circles looking for directions.

We were able to sort through the contents of the storage locker in Houston, fitting about a third of them into my trailer and the back of my pickup truck with the help of Mike the mover. I was unable to part with 2/3 of my belongings as planned, and Tara found many of them interesting, so we made a plan to follow up with one more trip in March, when the rent on my storage locker expires, with the remaining contents of the locker going to my family in Missouri and needy families in Houston. Amazingly, Tara’s up for one more adventure. More on that later.

Meanwhile, here are the highlights of this Mexico trip:

* Laredo and La Posada: We spent the day visiting with Audrey and shopping in San Antonio, my last chance to visit a Whole Foods and get US prices on electronics and other important items. We splurged on a night at La Posada, the beautiful, classic hotel right on the plaza in old Laredo, as quaint and charming and peaceful as it’s ever been, despite the mayhem we’ve heard about in Mexican border towns. It’s a lovely way to prepare for your border crossing, with a staff well versed in the details of the procedure, and it’s luxury on a budget, with a great restaurant, a pool in the courtyard and fresh apples and friendly smiles at the reception desk.

* Delays at the border: This was touch and go as I didn’t have the actual title of the truck and trailer, only registration papers, having just bought them. Also, the inspection of the trailer was a big unknown; people on the Mexico Expat list had reported everything from painstaking unpacking and revision of every item, to taking a peek and sailing through.

My case was somewhere in between; the girl in charge asked me to remove a few things, took a peek, charged me $100 in taxes and sent me on my way. On the other side of the border, at the Mexican vehicle importation office, they accepted the registration documents, thankfully. However, they discovered that I had a car registered in Mexico, a fact that almost cost me the entire enterprise. It seems that once you’ve registered a car in Mexico, it’s illegal to leave without taking the car with you. This I had done several times with my Toyota Celica, CiCi, but it never seemed to be an issue until now, with CiCi sitting behind my folks’ house in Missouri.

“Can’t I just have my parents fax the papers?” I wanted to know. “No, you must bring the car back to the border and have the permit canceled,” the official told me severely. “But I can’t do that! It’s almost 2,000 miles away!” I protested. “Can’t I just pay a fine or something?” “No,” he told me firmly. “The punishment for this infraction is that you may never bring a vehicle into Mexico again. Not until you bring that one back.”

This statement rang in the air like a death knell. I gasped and clutched at my face. “What can I do?” I pleaded. Seeing my distress, he relented. “Does she have a car in Mexico?” he asked, beckoning to Tara. “Why… no,” I said. “OK, then, go back over to Laredo and get a temporary title in her name,” he instructed. This process took an hour and $60, and we were, thankfully, on our way – although in order to ever bring a vehicle legally across the border again, I will still have to bring my Celica down and have the permit canceled. Thankfully, I had not yet sold it. It seems CiCi wants to take another trip to Mexico.

* Saltillo: We had had our sights set on the beautiful colonial city of San Luis Potosi, about halfway to Guadalajara, for our layover, but delays at the border set us way back, and we were strongly discouraged by many people on both sides of the border from driving after dark on the Mexican side of the border, mainly in the north. We found our way to the historic center and a charming colonial hotel but a cold wave had struck with full force and our short expedition in search of dinner left us shivering down to our bones. In the morning, we headed off to discover that an ice storm had turned all the trees into a winter postcard and the highways into complete chaos, with all the bridges closed and traffic moving at a snail’s pace. Long story short, it was noon before we finally got out of town – with two police stopping us along the way to call me on my infractions and extract mordidas, or bites – the spanish word for bribes. Sigh.

* San Luis Potosi: Once again, due to our late start, we would have had to drive far into the night to reach our goal – so we decided to spend the night at the Panorama, downtown SLP’s classy, glassy hotel-with-a-view – a bit past its prime, sadly, with its sky lounge and piano bar closed for undisclosed reasons, but still lovely, and the city itself is a charmer. We asked a man on a bicycle for directions and instead of explaining he offered to lead us through the tangle of city streets – and we almost made it.

Our only bad moment in SLP occurred when yet another police officer stopped me for traveling in the historic center with a trailer – an infraction that was going to cost me plenty and he was going to ensure it, having suffered a ticket during his time in Texas, which he shared with me while trying to point to the infraction in his rule book. I was determined not to pay another mordida especially for such a silly rule and I raised such a ruckus that bystanders began to gather and another police officer finally intervened and let me go.

* Guadalajara: Beautiful in the mid-afternoon sun, but we were late and I was a bit worried as I had just learned from my landlord, Francisco, that Teopantli Kalpulli had just held its first meeting of the year and instead of receiving the letter I had sent and approving my pending residency, there had been a bit of controversy because the grandmothers had not been notified and proper procedure had not been followed. My letter had not been delivered due to a miscommunication, and now the grandmothers must be persuaded. Francisco was working on that, on my behalf, but I’d have to meet them and talk with them and let them know of my intentions.

* Teopantli Kalpulli: We met Francisco on the outskirts of Guadalajara at the gas station closest to Teopantli, Mexico’s first ecovillage, about 40 minutes outside of the city, and together we made our way through the tiny town of San Isidro Mazatepec and down 7 kilometers of dusty roads to the community itself. Francisco advised that we quickly unload the vehicles while there was still light, and then meet with the grandmothers. Tara and I busied ourselves sweeping the floor and Francisco found us some lovely neighbors – Raul and Cuautli – who helped us unload our furniture as the sun set over the mountains.

I then met the grandmothers and one of the grandfathers, explained to them my purpose and listened as Francisco assured them of my respectability. They seemed somewhat mollified but the real test will come this Thursday, when I make my case at a community meeting. (“It will be fine, you’ll see – once they see you and meet you, find out what you’re about, hear the way you laugh… they will love you,” my friend Levi reassured me.) The abuelas were on their way to a meeting so they dismissed me, but not before Abuela Villafaña poked her head out the car window and whispered, “Don’t worry – no pasa nada! You are going to be very, very happy here. Bienvenida!”

I then headed with a smile down to the bakery, where Jose Luis and Angelica shared fresh bread and yogurt and honey and savory vegetable patties. Tara and I savored the treats and made quick work of organizing the tiny house and then spent a delicious first night listening to the sounds of the crickets and cicadas in the trees outside. We awoke to a fresh, sweet scent in the air, the crowing of a rooster and the first rays of morning touching the pyramid at the edge of my backyard.

We spent a little time organizing things and taking photos, then made a beeline for the beach.

Mi casita

* Pacific Coast: We made it to Chacala, the closest beach from Guadalajara, just before sunset and made our nest at Las Brisas, the prettiest hotel on the tiniest beach town on this stretch of the coast. It was cozy, beautiful and right on the beach; the restaurant was fabulous, the price was right and we couldn’t have been happier.

We had a leisurely morning watching whales and soaking up the sun, then wandered our way down the coast, exploring surfy Guayabitos, ultra-natural Lo de Marcos, sweet little San Pancho and bohemian Sayulita before finally ending up, once again just before sunset, at Posada Lily in downtown Puerta Vallarta, just half a block from the beach. The price, once again, was right; we were lucky girls.

We wandered our way down the Malecon (sea wall) to our hearts’ content, watched mimes and clowns and jugglers and performance artists, listened to live music and admired the sand scupltures and bronze sculptures, everything from mermaids to sphinxes in a joyful, beautiful celebration of life. Over daiquiris and a coco loco, we watched the waves roll in and vowed to return when we’d have time to luxuriate in the warm sand and sun.

* Tlaquepaque: Tara had a plane to catch and we would be up before dawn, so our last evening I opted to take her to this charming colonial village on the outskirts of Guadalajara. Tlaquepaque captures the colonial ambience, the festive air and the intimacy of Guadalajara before it became a megacity, and the mariachis still wander the streets with their guitars and big hats and play for pesos as you drink your margaritas and enjoy fine traditional Mexican food. As usual, we arrived late – and Tara was exhausted and still had to re-pack to make a space for her Aztec blanket and other mercado finds – so we just settled for a nice dinner at El Nahual restaurant just down the street from our hotel, Posada Media Luna.

Up at 5 and off to the airport… A long day of travel for Tara, and back to work for me.

Here’s my photo collection – not too much of my new casita yet, but Tara took bunches of them, so you can find those on her Facebook page.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.