The Mountains; Day 1

The ‘getaway’ is to a small mountain village, up in the Sierra Madre range. Clean air, simple life and simple folks. I had assumed I would see the stereotypical chicken in the street scenario (which I did!) and the possibility of Mexicans dressed like my former step dad, wearing those odd Levi polyester western ‘jeans’ and stiff cream colored straw cowboy hats( I did!)…with the added bonus of slapping dominos on a table while sitting outside the liquor store on the square, backed by an obscenely loud jukebox blaring local favorites. Yes, life in a simple town. I guess this is what they call the simple life.

The place.

The view outside our window

One thing I did not expect was the poop rule. Upon our arrival, we get a quick once over of where we will be staying and we are given carte blanche-except for poohing. That is right, you can do the business in the commode, but you cannot flush your toilet paper. Instead, you are to deposit your filth in the tiny trash can waiting patiently beside the commode. This I do not get. I had encountered this phenomenon way back at Tonya’s house when a little Mexican kid came to visit. I was horrified to find ‘used’ paper in the trash can instead of the toilet! Well, this is obviously alive and well and a way of life here in Mexico! What a startling introduction to a peaceful getaway. I now will have to handle my dirtied toilet paper, and neatly fold or wad it up and wrap it in even more toilet paper. Nice. I pray that Montezuma does not seek his revenge on me while I am supposed to be taking it easy.

This is also my first encounter with a mosquito net. I have only seen them in catalogues and movies about Africa. Now, I am lying on a nice white bed with this bug protector around me. I feel mummified. Tonya and I discuss if it is necessary. She reminds me of the obvious fact that if we wrap ourselves up to keep the creepy crawlies out, it will only mean disaster when our dogs want to hop up on the bed. After all, they have no idea how to open the mesh curtains to get inside. Fortune smiles though, as we opt out to keep the net at bay, and do not encounter any creepy crawlies. However, this did set a precedence for checking nightly for scorpions and spiders and other assorted local insects.

I get up this morning and step outside to get a whiff of the clean mountain air. No need for alarm clocks here…the countless amounts of roosters will make sure you get up at regular intervals from anywhere between 3:30 am and regular 7am wake up time. As soon as I focus my eyes, I see a small Doberman standing on the stone fence across the yard, eyeing up this new gun in town. In a flash it is gone, and then comes whipping around the side of the house “HKeep the dogs in! There is a Doberman out here!” I yell at Tonya inside. This is Nina. We were told about her form Lourdes. She is a sweetie. After a few minutes, she is a nuisance. She will not leave you alone and will follow you all around town. We had to deal with this every day.

Winston meets Nina for the first time

First things first. Breakfast is the cornerstone of all our days, so we start at Leonora’s place. Two rooms, the one to eat in and the one to cook in. Four tables. You had best be in good standing with your fellow villagers, because here, you are definitely in close quarters, and will assuredly rub elbows with your neighbors. I am struck by the simplicity of it all, and the friendliness of those popping in and out. Mostly, I keep staring at the blank wall with the single ice pick hanging alone, up for all to see. I would like to think it is what small town folk do, keep something like this handy in case some shyster tries to skip his bill or cheats the owner. You grab the pick and slam it through the offenders hand so that he is stuck to the table until the transaction is completed. Sadly, I was informed that it is simply to chip off ice in the cooler below. Leonora is like the mom of the village, and she makes the best huevos rancheros you will ever eat. Promise. She comes out and meets us after we eat, and stands politely next to her cooler and laughs her funny laugh. She is immediately likeable…and somehow reminds me of my brother-in-law.

The ice pick

After breakfast we tour the town. Ray and Lourdes take us around the village and show us all the ins and outs and who is who. It is a beautiful day and we have a wonderful set of tour guides. I feel like I fit right in, people stop and chat and joke with Ray. I feel like no one will bother us because they all like Ray and Lourdes. In a sense, I feel like we are very welcomed guests. They take us up and down, through alleys and over small bridges. We see each corner of the place. A Mexican wearing the mandatory cream colored straw cowboy hat and perma-press jeans sits atop a white horse. “That is Chuy” says Ray. “He’s very proud of his horse. He can make it do all sorts of tricks. You will probably see him performing while you are here”. Chuy smiles, showing his two front gold teeth. He tips his hat to Ray and they exchange greetings. He sits so proud and watches our every move. He obviously wants to see the awe in our faces. I smile and keep moving.

The village

The square

We sit for a bit on the square, and watch the locals and the recently arrived tourists. They wander around and are most definitely spotted by Chuy. To him, this is a brand new audience. We peep in some shops and see what the locals are selling. The tip is that the local honey is quite good. Personally, there really is nothing that enticing that you don’t see anywhere else while snooping around Mexico. Same caca different puebla.

Ray & Winston

If it is a donkey, it must be Mexico

Is this odd to you? So 'un' PC

Dentist office for those who have too many Negritos.

Ray greets a neighbor

Neighbor checks me out.

Lourdes keeps on about hiking up to the orchard. Thankfully, Ray takes control and offers to drive us instead, insisting that the newbies may not want to hike over an hour to stare at peach trees. We pile in the van and twist and turn and bump and grind our way up the mountain to where the road splits. We take the shorter path and Ray stops the van and proclaims “This is it!” Weeds. Oh, and a dirt road that ends right in front of us. Ray then waves us onward and we get the lowdown on the orchard. Once you walk a bit, you see over the valley. It is beautiful! This is definitely a nice place, and will be even nicer when they finish getting the land in order and cleaned up. Ray is awfully proud of the progress of the barbed wire and stone wall being re-laid. Just like a proud king, he smiles as he looks over his land and then says we should go and pick some peaches off the trees. Nah. We opt to sit on the new stone wall and watch Ray and Lourdes go and pick peaches. We get introduced to the local mosquito variety while sitting here too. These bites will prove to be very itchy and annoying and grow exponentially if you scratch them.

The couple that picks together...

a man and his peaches.

...more peaches!

After grabbing a load of peaches, Ray and Lourdes come back and Ray tells us to make room for the workers, as he offered them a ride back down the mountain. As we wait, ray hands us each a peach and tells us to savor the flavor. “Man!” he says as juice dribbles out his mouth, “That is a peach! No pesticides, this is pure nature man!” The workers wobble don the path and we say hello. Nice folks. We shake the old man’s hand and then his son, who shyly and limply shakes our hands in succession. We ride down the hill, smiling at the workers and they smile back, even throwing in a nod here and there.

After our tour of the town and the orchard, we decide to go and buy a few things we need. Ray and Lourdes have some business to tend to and we agree to meet them later at their house for dinner.

By the days end, it is such a welcomed event to walk onto Ray and Lourdes’ place to smiles and a few bottles of wine and tequila. Ray is crazy about his food and drink, and cannot wait to shove a shot of the local brew into your hands. Lourdes, always smiling, lays out a nice spread of snacks. Nuts (again!) and a few types of local cheeses to munch on. Oh-and don’t forget the peaches…because Ray won’t let you forget! He loves his peaches. We sit and have a drink while dinner is prepared. The beauty of this is that not only are we mingling and talking, but doing it all outside! The kitchen is outside the house. This will also prove to be a very wonderful thing. It just adds to the intimacy of the evening to sit out in the cool air and view the garden, at the same time being able to cook! You can watch the water boil and the flowers bloom at the same time! Truly, this setting could make almost any meal a night to remember.

In the kitchen

Andreas, pre-dinner jitters

A good time was had by all. As we get up to walk back to our place, ray hands us a flashlight and a brief set of directions. We look at one another as we stand outside the door, equipped with a buzz and a single flashlight. Now we must recall our afternoon tour and find our way back to our place through the unlit village. The stone streets are slippery thanks to the heavy fog that has set in with nightfall. We waddle a bit and do a few slips, but we do manage to wind back up the hill to where we are staying. We can see light peeking out from below the heavy wooden shudders, and the dogs start to bark with excitement with the realization that we did not forget about them.

Before the lights go out, a close inspection is given to the bed for the uninvited local guests. Once the light is out, and we lay there in this very dark place, and take in all we have seen throughout the day, and listen to the sound of the mountains.

The Mountains; Another Long Drive

The idea of another drive, clocking in at just under 12 hours, was not something to look forward to. “What the heck man! 12 hours! You may as well just come home!” my brother said when I told him of the plans. His words rang true. I think for the first time since I had been here, his comment may have made me miss home, Texas.

Our friends Lourdes and Ray have been talking about this place for ages. It was supposed to be beautiful. Tonya had wanted to come, and in light of the recent situation, it was probably a really good idea that Tonya get out and breathe a bit. Lourdes swears the drive is nice. Tonya swears that we cannot be late in meeting Lourdes and Ray. We are supposed to be in Guadalajara by noon. This means, we should leave around 6 a.m. to be safe. We can leave at 7 to be typically late.

The alarm goes off at 5:30 am. I hate waking up early and rushing. We actually leave the house a little after 7. This is not good. Tonya is frustrated and pissy. I am hungry and dreading riding for 6 hours with someone in a panic to make it to their friend on time. I did not even have time to have a cup of coffee. We stop and get gas, then hit the road. Initially, I thought that no one was really speaking because of being tired. I soon discovered this was not so, but more due to Tonya being in a huff and being stressed out. I keep quiet to try and let the storm pass. It never does. From this moment forth, almost anytime anything is said, there is arguing involved. If I were a kid, I would have probably told her I wanted to go home and to take me back to my parents. I decide it is best to keep quiet and breathe. Breathe deep, long and slow. Relax. This is going to be a long drive.

Outside the city, as we are making our way silently along, the sun is slowly coming up with about as much energy and enthusiasm as I have. Believe me, I can relate. I watch the outlying mountain range in the distance. The fields ahead are layered in fog. We manage to make some friendly comments about the scenery. Lourdes said that it was imperative to get to the rendezvous point on time, because the next half was intense mountain driving, and no one with a brain does this in the dark. Especially forgotten mountain roads in Mexico. As I looked at the range in the distance I wondered what we would see later in the day. In a brief time of peace, Tonya and I manage to pull some snacks from our road trip snack box for our breakfast on the move. We both sit quietly and crunch through our All-Bran bars. “What do you think?” she says. “Yeah. It’s ok”, I say back, and swallow the dry oatmeal tasting substance.

early morning view of outlying mountains

One reason why I hate long road trips so much is the lack of food. We cobbled together bits and pieces of stuff we thought we would want. Thank God we brought the breakfast bars, as they would prove to be very handy. I also managed to heat a bagel and put some cheese in it. We bought a bag of pan the day before. There are a few cokes, some chips, left over cookies and a jar of peanuts. I dread road trip food. No matter what you have, it always seems to boil down to two main food groups; nuts and chips. It is always in excessive amounts too. By the time the drive is done I swear I never want to see another peanut as long as I live. No matter what drinks you bring, they never get emptied. Why? Why at the end of a trip do you find all these opened containers with backwash still in them? Why don’t people drink their drinks when they are on the road?!

Boredom. It must be boredom and just being plain sick of all the useless junk we are robotically shoving down our mouths in some strange time sequenced pattern. It is as if we have been programmed by some evil force to glare straight ahead, open mouth, insert gunk. Chomp, crunch, swallow. Grab liquid, suck, swallow. Stare straight ahead. Repeat ad infinitum.

more mountains!

the guys. patient, loving companions

There is a lot of silence in our drive. Partly due to taking in new scenery and the other part to two people unable to reconcile which side of the bed they woke up on. It is grueling. The dead silence provides me a perfect opportunity to listen to the new Teenage Fanclub album. Maybe for me, it will warm my soul and perhaps put some sunshine in Tonya. I don’t think she even heard a single thing. Either that or she hates the Fannies. (note: the iPod starts its crush with Graham Parsons and Emmylou Harris on this drive)

As we near the noon hour, the cell phone begins to ring. Lourdes is like a stopwatch. “Where are you guys?” she asks Tonya. This is an asinine question. How can two complete strangers possibly know where they are on these long, unmarked Mexican roads? Tonya tells her that we are near, and thinks that we just passed through the last toll booth before Guadalajara. If we pull it off, we will be about 30 minutes late. This is not the last toll booth though. As we keep driving, Lourdes calls about every 15 minutes and asks the same question. She tells Tonya that we are to meet at some plaza in the outlying town of Tlaquepaque. We still have a few more toll booths to get through. By the time we get to the outskirts of Tlaquepaque we are a good 45 minutes behind.

strange dying lake, somewhere out there

Tonya calls Lourdes and tells her we are here. Lourdes tells Tonya to go somewhere different. A few minutes later she calls again and tells us the rendezvous point is now somewhere else. “What did she say?” I ask very annoyed. “I don’t know” Tonya snapped back. “She told me where to meet and kept talking. I can’t remember what she said”. I asked if she shouldn’t call her back and ask for the directions again, but all I get is silence. It is now mid afternoon. This town is hot. We are tired of peanuts and chips and have not been able to have a stretch of friendship for more than two minutes. I cannot stand how Tonya will not get the directions straight and keeps driving, like she knows what she is doing in some strange city. In her frustration she turns off the feeder road into a neighborhood. We keep raising the volume in our arguing and she keeps driving. I get more freaked because to me, I can imagine all of these prying eyes seeing this spot lit car with a billboard on top that reads “This is the car of lost foreigners who have no idea what they are doing. They are lost. They are arguing. Now is your chance!” Personally, I feel very uncomfortable sitting on some very strange back streets being an obvious stranger in town. Tonya calls Ray to get directions. We stop and she gets new co-ordinates. It sounds simple enough.

With the new directions Tonya takes off. Little does she know that she is driving in the wrong direction. She keeps going and going. I keep getting more and more upset. The afternoon is not cooling off and we are nowhere near where we need to be. We are driving further away. I keep telling her to ask for directions. She, obviously, picks the seediest looking grease pit with a bunch of guys sitting in cheap plastic chairs baking in the sun. The shirtless guy with prison tattoos is the closest, so obviously he is the one which comes to the car. One should not judge a book by its cover, as this pre-judged hijacker proves. He may be shirtless and wear cheap tattoos and have a ponytail, but he does tell us where we need to go.

Tonya asks me to look for a certain street name. The problem is she speaks to me as if I speak fluent Spanish. Every word and syllable is said with such passion and gusto. To me, I have no idea what she is saying. To her, she is frustrated that I do not understand “Calzada Lazaro Cardenas”. We ride in frustration, going completely the wrong way when a few minutes later she asks me again, “Are you looking for Calzada Lazaro Cardenas”.

“What am I looking for?” I ask.

“Calzada Lazaro Cardenas” she says even more frustrated.

“What are you saying? How do you say that to someone who does not speak Spanish?” is my comeback.

“Calzada Lazaro Cardenas” Tonya says slower, but still complete with her Mexico City accent.

“Spell it. Spell it to me, because you obviously do not understand that I do not understand what you are saying! Don’t get angry at me because I do not speak Spanish and don’t talk down to me like I am a dumbass because I do not speak Spanish!” I say in a very unfriendly tone.

“I’m not talking down to you” she says with a tremble in her voice” Cardenas, don’t you know Cardenas? C A R D …”

“You mean like Cardinez?” said in a very Anglo manner.

“Yes!” the excitement is noticeable.

“Ok. Then just talk to me like a tourist and I can help. Speak slow and stupid to me when you are telling me names and places.” We are both about to bust by this point.

We ride in frustrated silence while sweat keeps dripping down our temples. Tonya is hunched forward, the anxiety making her almost into a little ball with hands on a steering wheel. Eventually, we do find our way to this street and sure enough, there sits on the side of the road, Ray, Lourdes and Andreas. We pull up behind them and I waste no time in getting out of the car. Lourdes gets out too, and a few hugs are exchanged. Her smile helps ease the tension. I say hello to Ray and Andreas, and Tonya is standing behind their car, talking with Lourdes. It has been over an hour since we have been driving in every which way but the correct one, and now we are really going to be pressed for time. We have another 5 hours to go, and have to beat the darkness. No time is wasted. Ray and Lourdes briefly tell us what we are doing, then everyone jumps back in their vehicles, and we start part two of the trip. This time, I am driving.

lone dog, desolate gas station

Tlaquepaque is no great shakes. We get behind Ray and get out. I feel a bit better now that we have a tiny convoy, and we are following someone who is well travelled here. Now, there is no reason to get lost or frustrated…too bad this theory did not work. We still ride in silence. Eventually we crack a smile and make up. We have no idea where we are at or how long it will take. I keep my eyes on the car in front of me and drive. In some town, at some intersection Ray pulls over and pulls up in front of a grocery store. We pull up behind and Lourdes gets out and tells us to wait a bit while shopping is done, because there is not grocery store in the village we are going to. She asks if I am ok, and I speak the truth, “I’m hungry”. She walks to her car and comes back with a clear plastic container of almonds. “They are from Whole Foods” she says with a smile. I take a handful and have the same thought as before ‘hmmmm, more nuts’. “Its ok guys, relax” she says in her smooth tone. “We are on holiday now. You want a beer? You need one. You need to relax. I’ll get you a beer” and she makes another quick trip to her car and comes back with a cold XX. “We are very close now. We will really be getting into the mountains, it is a beautiful drive. We must hurry though, before it gets dark”

I take Lourdes for her word, and want some comforting reassurance, “So we’re close? That is good”

“Yes, very close. About 3 or 4 hours” she says still smiling. That is not close. Four more hours is a nightmare to me. My butt hurts, my back is sweaty and damp and no more than 25 words have been spoken between Tonya and me for the last 8 hours! I dread this, I really do. The only respite is the scenery of the promised beauty. “If you cannot handle mountains and curves for the next three or four hours, you better let Tonya drive” Lourdes warns me with a laugh.

heading upwards!

Lourdes was not lying. It did not take long before we were starting to wind up the mountains. They were beautiful! Now, at least, the lack of speaking was not due to frustration and anger, but to staring at the scenery (I cannot speak for Tonya though). As we drove, we started to see clouds rolling in. Tonya pointed at a sign that was posted frequently on the road, and she explained that it said to be careful, because you are in a foggy area. We carry on, twisting and turning and taking it all in. Tonya starts to doze off a bit, and I have to keep my eyes ahead. I am starting to wear out. I am tired of sitting and my back is hurting. I have both hands on the wheel and keep leaning forward to try and stretch my back. I feel the urge to pee coming on too.

twist and turn, higher & higher

It has been about two hours of working our way up into the mountains. We have breezed though a few small villages, and are driving through another one when Ray’s tail lights light up and he pulls over. I follow my leader. He hops out and says there is no more gas for the rest of the way, so fill it up now. We swing around and pull into a gas station across the street. Tonya says she will go do her stuff while I wait on the gas. As soon as she gets out, Sunny plops down in her seat and makes himself cozy. She comes back out and leans into the passenger side window, “I am going to have a cigarette”, and she walks to the end of the parking lot and smokes. I sit and stare and listen to the clicks being made by the gas pump, anxiously awaiting my turn to pee. She walks back and opens the door and Sunny just stares at her. “Sunny. Move” She says. She tries to push him but he will not budge. “Can you help…”

I reach over and prod Sunny. Nothing. He refuses to move. Tonya raises her voice, “Sunny”. I reach over and pull him towards me to get him out of her seat. He goes all limp and is like a wet rag, lying on the console, contorted in all sorts of ways. I have to pee and I have no time for these gimmicks. I bark out “Sunny-move it!” He lays and stares at me. I start to push him off the console towards the backseat. He slips and slides and becomes even more twisted. I demand action once more, “Sunny!” Nothing. I do not understand how he can just be all tangled like that and not want to get comfortable. The fun is finished for me. I grab him and start a final heave. He becomes even more limp as he begins the roll over into the back seat. Tonya gets concerned as he starts to wrap himself up and it looks like his head is turned underneath him. His go-limp trick is done at the wrong time. “Sunny!” I yell as I start the final push. As soon as I heave him, he slides and Tonya yells “Stop it!” It is too late though. The momentum carries on and Sunny’s head becomes trapped between the console and the folded down seat. I push him and he rolls over himself and in a flash I see why Tonya is yelling. Sunny’s head is stuck and it looks like this could be a very huge mistake. His body is already slowly flipping over, and he emits a low tones growl. It seems as if it is all in slow motion. As his body flips over into the seat, his neck is visibly twisted and I can’t even see his head. Tonya is yelling that he is hurt. He finishes out his slippery roll on his back, when he pulls his head out of the small gap. He’s dazed and lying on his back with his feet straight in the air. He begins to growl and struggles to get up. He is obviously confused and in pain. “You could have broke his neck!” she is yelling at me. I am somewhat relieved to see Sunny squirm to his feet and that he his ok. I am shocked, scared and about to pee on myself. I utter a nervous, “He’s Ok.” And head to the restroom. The restroom is dark and the ceiling is low. I do not wait until I am completely inside until I undo my pants. I am unzipping and heading for the urinal when I smack my head on a low concrete beam. At this moment I feel as I am in top form.

I walk back to the car, relieved of the pee and also relived that Sunny was not hurt. I should have kept walking because Tonya is furious. As I get in she lets me have it. I am shook up too, and keep eyeing Sunny to see that he is alright. I pull the car back into the street and in front of Ray. As Tonya is telling me off, a knock comes on her window. We turn and Tonya opens the window. It is Lourdes. She flashes her big smile and shoves a hand in the window. “I got these for you. It is cookies” and she hands us a bag with a small ribbon tied to it. She runs back to her car and Tonya hands them to me. I cannot even think of eating a cookie now, so I place them in the drink holder and begin to follow Ray.

As we start up more mountains the fog is really rolling in. We are starting to get nervous too, because it is thick fog. I sit quiet, both hands on the wheel and try to steal a glance into the back of the truck, where Tonya has gone back to comfort Sunny. “Is he ok?” I ask. Tonya softly replies, “I think so” as she pets him while he is prone. I feel awful. I am tired. I am so over this trip I wish we could turn back. I can’t really start any conversations because I have to concentrate and keep my eyes forward. It is starting to get a bit tense.

We pass though another odd town. Ray has taken us down some back streets, and as we barely squeeze though, you can almost reach out and touch the villagers as they stand and stare at the cars driving through their town. It is very David Lynch. Rough, bumpy streets, dingy tiny dirty homes. A horse walks down an empty street and its hoofs echo through the streets. “This is a weird place” Tonya says from way in the back. She is sitting next to Sunny, and has drawn the other dogs closer to her too. It is obvious that I am in deep sh*t. Still, the fact that she even utters her opinion, gives me a bit of relief. I wish I could smile, but I steal a glance from the rearview mirror and agree with her, “Yeah, I like this…weird”. From here on out, it is strictly upwards at very steep angles.

The fog is really hitting us by now. When we manage to get to certain peaks, you can see the valleys and other mountains, and it is a wonderful sight seeing the clouds hugging the mountains. It is just not very nice to drive through. I am a city boy. Staring down some of these drops in brief glimpses though the clouds is pretty frightening. The sun is going down too, and it is getting cooler. I cannot help but think of the Vampire movies, and that we are drawing nearer and nearer to some really strange and creepy place. I do not even have music on, because I want to concentrate. Tonya is still in the back, and will remain there the rest of the trip. I feel very alone and very far from home. In truth, I feel quite small. I feel like I am so far from anyone and anything and I am just walking deeper and deeper into this billowy white mist. I try and stay close to Ray, and keep my eyes on the lit red tail lights. I start to wonder how long can we keep doing this and when is enough? I notice that the higher we go, the more and more rocks have fallen, and are scattered out onto the road. There are countless signs to warn of falling rocks, and each time we pass a cliff I wince and hope that that a few good chunks don’t come pounding down on me. I start to notice that it smells strange way up here…or maybe it is the clouds that smell funny.

my eyes stuck to those glowing tail lights

I find that smell funny. I roll my window down and try to stick my nose out, like a dog on a car ride. Someone must be burning something up here. We hit a brief level part in our drive, and there is a small clogging of cars to make it through some tight turns. It has come to almost a crawl, and I stick as close as I can to Ray. Once we get though the tight spot, we pick up a bit more speed and space between cars. I notice as we near another turn that my foot goes all the way to the floor. I must be tired and fatigued, and cannot wait to get to our destination. We come to another turn and I notice that my foot meets no resistance when I brake. I try to pump the brakes and they are slow to respond. I slow down as much as I can. I try again when we turn again, and now I am sure. We have no breaks! That burning smell I smelt earlier was me! I was using the brakes too much and they were over heating. I feel that this is not going to be a happy ending. Tonya is mad at me, Sunny is hurt, I am running on nuts and my butt and back are damp and sore and now I am gliding through strange mountain roads with no brakes. I have no idea of what to do, so I slow down as much as possible. I turn the hazards on and tell Tonya. She does not believe me, and just to make sure she heard me correctly, she asks louder from the back, “WHAT?”

darkness, fog and mountains make for a scary trip

I start to honk my horn and flash my lights. I feel it is futile to flash the lights, because it is not dark enough yet. I keep honking more and more. We twist and turn and Ray comes into sight and then turns out of sight. It is getting darker by the second and my fear is growing in bounds. I get panicked and wonder why they won’t stop. They just keep going and I am falling further behind and dread the next steep drop. I hope it is mostly uphill, but have no clue. I tell Tonya what is happening and reach into the console and pull out the owner’s manual and ask her to look up what to do when your brakes go out and the light comes on. It takes her a few moments then she starts reading the steps to safe mountain driving. I shift into low and it helps, but she still has not gotten to troubleshooting no brakes on twisty mountain roads. A small straight away follows a turn and I see Ray’s tail lights lit up. We ease up behind them and Ray comes running over, “What’s happening? Is something wrong?” he says leaning into my window.

"No brakes man! My brakes went out” I tell him, a bit shaken.

His response is quite simple, “Shit man!” “Did you pump them?”

“Nothing. No response. My foot goes to the floor every time”

He smacks and points forward, “Look, we are close. You think we can make it?”

I have heard the term ‘close’ used before, that was 4 hours ago! I have to be straight, and I ask Ray “Well…how close is clos

“Man, we are right there. We have about 9 kilometers to go.” He says.

“Is it uphill, because I am pretty freaked out about this.”

“Yeah. There is only one dip, at the beginning of town, but we are almost there. Put it in low, and just take it real slow” he says.

“Ok. But don’t get too far ahead…” I say. Ray runs back and hops into his van, and we start our last, slow crawl. I look at the speedometer. I do the math. 9 kilometers at about 10-15 mph could take at least 30 minutes or more! Not cool. It is dark now, and I intently follow the halo of red around Ray’s tail lights. Tonya is quiet, sitting in the back. I am not sure, but she may have muttered if we were close. I see a bridge through the fog, and at the end of this bride, Ray’s tail lights light up again. He hops out and comes running to the van.

“Ok. We are here. I am going to ride with you and show you where you’re staying. Lourdes and Andreas went to get the keys” and he hops into the vacant passenger seat that Tonya left so long ago. It only takes a few minutes to wind up the stone streets and squeeze through the alleys, and then he tells me to ‘turn right at that tree’.

“Hey! We made it!” he says beaming. “This is it?” I ask in disbelief. I am so, so happy to finally have the wheels come to a complete stop. I get out, and we are surrounded by a thick mist. The smell of burning breaks lingers heavy and low. “I smell them. You must have used the brakes too much, they probably just over heated”, says Ray. “That is it. I am sure that is all that is wrong. We can have the local mechanic check it out tomorrow” Ray assures me. “This is it! Let me show you your place! Come on up!” Tonya and I are both thrilled beyond belief to be here. It has been almost a 12 hour trek, and could not have been more stressful. Ray helps unload the bags and tells us to meet them later for dinner.

We meet Ray and Lourdes at their place and unwind. We all talk of the trip up and the plans for tomorrow. It is getting late for this small village and the last restaurant remaining open will be closed soon. If we want something to eat, we better move. It’s dark and the fog has set in. We wander through the town and a light shines through an open door, like some sort of halo in the fog. We step inside an old home which has been turned into a restaurant. A lone girl sitting at a desk looks up as we walk in and Ray asks if we can eat. She stands up and says for us to sit wherever we like. Ray chooses outside, in the back. We get situated and have the hostess turn on the flat-screen on the patio. We view the latest World Cup scores and then Ray tells the girl to choose some music for us. Sitting here, about to eat, I finally let up and let the exhaustion take over. It is very late for dinner and I cannot wait to just get to bed.

Part 10: Una Noche Con Brian Eno

It really came as a surprise. While driving to the grocery store one day an ad came on the radio about Brian Eno. I have no idea what was being said, just a bunch of blabber until the name BRIAN ENO blahblahblah. I turned the volume up and thought by not talking and letting the ad play I would get to understand what was being said. I kept quiet and pointed to the radio. Tonya just kept orbiting in her other world.

“Hey!” I said, getting her attention. She looked at me and I made another gesture to the radio, “What’s that? What are they saying”? Tonya stared at the dash, still not getting what all this was about. The commercial was over and I asked her again, “What did they say?”

“About what?” she said looking at me with an empty glare.

“About Brian Eno!” I said in a disgusted huff.

“What about Brian Eno?” she asks back, like I was out of my mind asking her what the radio was saying about Eno.

“The ad! What did the ad just say about Eno. The ad that was playing on the radio!”

“What ad about Eno? I wasn’t listening” she said as a matter of fact. I could not believe it. I turned the volume up, stay silent and nudge her and point to the radio and my ear, signing for her to listen. To her, this must have all seem like I was having some sort of spazz, because it obviously did not register. In one ear and out the other, the image into her eyes but lost somewhere before it could register with conclusion department of her brain.

That was it. What brief bit about Eno there was on Mexican airwaves was now lost for good.

A couple of weeks later, another ad came on about Eno. This time I made sure I said plain and very loud, ‘LISTEN TO THIS COMMERCIAL AND TELL ME WHAT THEY SAID’. Again, she gets none of it but simply the call numbers of the station. Good enough, at least with that I can put my sleuth hat on and get to work.

I type up the radio station and see nothing about Eno. I search the site, and on one guy’s blog, there is an ad “Una Noche Con Brian Eno”. I get excited and call Tonya over and have her read it. Rather than read the whole thing and break it down, she reads word for word…I have no patience. However, there is a note that says the station is giving away a pair of tickets to the Eno event. The catch is, you have to photograph your records and send it in. The one with the most Eno, gets the free tickets.

I have yet to unpack my records, and I am not going to go do it just to snap a picture of my Eno collection. What kind of idiot does that? I did, however, manage to snap a photo of a peculiar sign while walking through the market about a week earlier. I sent the image along for the contest anyway, explaining my circumstances and that this photo must account for something! I was fretting. The event was in two days. On originality alone, I was convinced the reply would come that I won. It never did. I was in denial, just thinking this was typical Mexican take your time type stuff. I checked the radio website a couple of times a day to see if there was anything there. It never showed. I was a loser. They obviously did not appreciate the humor of the photo. Tonya said we would go anyway, to not worry.

The day of the show was grey. It had cooled down, and been raining. It was London weather! Tonya was sidetracked by typical daily ‘issues’ and occurrences. I was watching the hours drip by and by 1 in the afternoon; I knew it was not going to happen. We still had not gone to get the tickets, and we had to be home by 3 for the workers. Tonya was shuffling around, obviously trying every bit of body language she knew, to get the message across that she could care less about trudging to get tickets and listen to a bald-headed freak talk about art and wank. I was somewhat disappointed, but told her if she was not up to it, I would sacrifice. We could go for a nice walk around and just take it easy. She reluctantly admitted to her lack of interest in watching Eno speak, and we decided to go out and explore instead.

It was a great choice. We walked all over the place. She showed me a nice park and some interesting neighborhoods. We watched a kid skateboard on a national monument (the very same monument which at one time housed Obregon’s actual hand!!!!) I had been told about the hand, but recently Tonya found out that the original decaying hand in formaldehyde had been replaced with a fake wooden thing. Who cares about that! We snooped around a few restaurants that looked mighty tasty, and by the crowds inside, they have to be! We hung out in a bookstore and browsed through all sorts of books and balked at their prices (too bad there is no half.com here!).

In the park

kids sleeping in the road

looking down a street and seeing mountains!

The weather was perfect for a lazy stroll without any direction. We wandered back stopping at will, checking out small shops and other places we had seen but never knew what they were. Tonya mentioned that we needed some stuff from the market, so we made our way in the general direction. As we were nearing one of the many entrances of the market, I happened to see a DVD laid out on a wobbly table on the side of the building as we walked by. It was Russell Crowe. I mean, it was Russell Crowe as Robin Hood! How on earth can this be out on DVD here when it is actually showing across the street in the theater? We have been saying we were going to see this. A kid with loads of hair gel in his hair his hustling and bustling and laying out these DVDs with great speed. A woman grabs a handful and pays the kid. As he takes the money, he tells us the price. I watch him kiss the money with some sort of sign of the cross thing. He did this at least 6 or 7 times. I assume the lady tipped him well or something.

Little did I know I was face to face with a Mexican pirate! His booty was a slew of theatrical releases that he had packaged and was starting to spread out on this makeshift display table. The price was right, 4 films for 50 pesos. (That is about $3.75 to you and me). Tonya and I looked at the titles as they were being put out and we were shocked, “Is this the new Robin Hood” she asked the boy?

“Si” the hair gel said.

“Is it good quality?” Tonya asks. The lady who just gave the kid enough money to make him do the sign of the cross and kiss the dough repeatedly butts in and says that the quality is so good that she scouts for the kid constantly. She reassures us that we will not be disappointed.

“It’s cheaper than renting a movie at Blockbuster” I said while browsing the titles. It only takes a split second to grab up 4 films we want to see. I hand them to the kid and he yells at another pirate who comes from behind a car. The other pirate bags up our four films and I look at the main pirate and ask in straight English, “You sure these are good quality?” He shakes his glistening head and says sternly “Si!” The goods are handed to me and Tonya and I walk away. We are all giddy. You would think we juts made some historical heist by the way we were giggling and talking up our takings.

We are about halfway home when all of a sudden I stop and look at Tonya, “Wait! Are there even in English?” In our excitement we did not even stop to ask if these bootlegged gems were the real deal or some sort or Mexican modified thing. Tonya looked at me and said somewhat remorsefully, “Oh well. It is too late now.” We both decided to keep onwards and we would check it out when we got home.

As soon as we did arrive, I went straight to the DVD player and popped in Robin Hood. I watched with anticipation as the screen started to light up. I could not tell what exactly I was seeing, as it was a bit blurry and then came in to focus. Whatever it was I watching, it was crooked. Whoever made this copy was filming this in the theater and had forgotten to straighten their camera. I laughed out loud and called to Tonya to tell her of our newly acquired blockbuster. We both agreed, what do you want for buying on the street and for so cheap? It was still going to be our night’s entertainment, so we were cool with that. Tonya and I sat and had a coffee and she said she would get started with making dinner after we finished.

All of a sudden the lights went out. Great. Not again. Here we sat sipping on our coffee and tea, and the lights go out. We exchange the same thoughts, that this will not last long. Most importantly, we laughed at how this was going to interrupt our big movie blockbuster night we were hoping for. The power is still out when Tonya is ready to cook. The darkness is beginning to dissuade her, but a few candles help re-kindle the desire (somewhat). We light up some candles and place them in the kitchen and dining room so we can see what is going on. The darkness made itself right at home. It was now sitting still for over an hour. It had also brought a friend, as it was now raining and thundering outside.

making dinner by candle light

pirate confessions soon to follow...

Tonya and Maria Antonia stood in the kitchen and talked while cooking. It was kind of cozy, seeing them stand there at the stove and cook by candle light. As Tonya was stirring the soup, she looked at Maria and me and said, “This is payback”. We did not know what she meant. “This is all because we bought pirated goods. We are sitting in the dark as a penalty for buying those DVDs” she said with complete conviction. I laugh and dismiss the superstition with a simple statement of fact, “No it isn’t. This is Mexico!” Maria Antonia got a good chuckle out of that one. We talked about the frequent anti-piracy ads on all the DVDs here. As we stood and laughed about Tonya’s statement, Maria Antonia confessed that she frequently buys pirated goods. Sometimes you even get ones where people are talking throughout the film, or you keep hearing laughter from the audience. These simple truths made us all bust out with laughter. I began to hope that we may have been just lucky enough to have acquired one such specimen. In any case, it really didn’t matter. Here we stood in a dark kitchen, no power to be had, and discussed the pros and cons of buying on the black market. This could be a ‘teachable moment’ (to quote a modern day American pirate), that you really do get what you pay for! As it was shaping up, we just spent $3.75 and were not even going to be able to watch our films!

close up of my Aerosmith magnet on the oven.

Three hours had passed and the lights finally came back on. The glory lasted only 10 minutes before we were left in darkness again. A short while later, light surged into the living room. We cheered at the simple act. As the excitement died down, Tonya looked at us and said that now she was ‘over it’ and could not be bothered to watch a film now. It was too late to get started. After all of this and dissing Brian Eno we are now ready to enjoy our night’s entertainment, a few episodes back to back of “Forensic Files”. To think I had willingly passed on Eno to eat in the dark and then sit in the cool rainy breeze and watch Forensic Files while my girlfriend falls asleep on the couch. I think 10cc foreshadowed this with that little ditty, “the things we do for love…”.

Part 9: The First Day Alone

I cannot fathom what it must be like to experience that first day of being ‘alone’. I thank God that I still have my parents. I have no idea what it must be like to lose one, and especially both. It is a terribly frightening thought to me. Who do you turn to for guidance? For wisdom? For comfort? Worst of all, when you just want to see or talk to your parents, they are not there. It must be incredibly hard to know that for the first time in your life, your parents have gone for good. They will never come back. You are on your own.

Such a loss has recently occurred. I am numbed, and cannot possibly understand what Tonya is going through. I try to keep reminding myself to just be whatever it is she needs you to be-and I have no idea what that is! Still, I hope that just being by her side, and being involved in the whole situation is at least grounding enough, and somewhat supportive knowing she is not in this alone.

It all happened so fast. I am not sure the way things go here, because I am the outsider. I do not understand how a family can be supportive and be involved, for just a day after the death, the ceremony is given for cremation. This means, in the midst of extreme sadness and mourning, you must rush home, make calls and get ready for the next day’s ceremony. Yes, you have 24 hours to say your final goodbyes-after that, you missed your chance.

The ceremony we attended was a sad solemn affair. If this were not Mexico, it probably would have been just a totally sullen day; however, given the place we are at, there definitely would be something amiss and odd. Because of the lack of time and suddenness of the situation, there were truly a handful of people who were able to be there, three of which just happened to all be here at the same time. Tonya was very distraught over the barrenness of the ceremony. So few people, so sudden and truly, so alone and at a loss. I understood her sadness and fear…I still do. This is one of those moments in life which is definitely heartbreaking.

Due to the crazy laws here, we were not allowed to drive to the funeral home, so we had to take a cab. It was a long cab ride into some very strange territory. The cab driver was nice. He talked to me in Spanish about the game on the radio (Mexico vs. South Africa), even though I had no idea what he was saying. We made a stop at a place he recognized. He then put two and two together, and asked Tonya about her mom. He said he remembered her because he would drive her to this one place quite often. I could tell that was a tender moment for Tonya. You could see it in her eyes, and obviously in her face. He suddenly turns the radio off. The game is over and it is a tie; Mexico 1, South Africa 1. Our ride ended way on top of a hill, over looking a vast part of the city. This place is really on top of city. The last few blocks especially, were a constant climb up through ravaged neighborhoods, stray dogs and plenty of stares. The street ended with the car pointed nose up. There was nowhere left to go but into the big gates.

It was a big white place, with a quietly flowing waterway in front of the crematorium. It was breezy and nice, and we walked up to the giant shiny glass front where a lisping Mexican with glossy, gelled hair greeted us with a simple “Tonya”. He ushered us in to the building and stood in the hallway and spoke for a few moments with Tonya. To continue on, he walked us in to another office. A plain, empty office with cold white walls. The breeze blowing in made the blinds slap against the wall. For a while, this would be the only real sound above softly spoken words. He opened the door to a simple table with four chairs. He motions for us to come in and asks us to sit. He realizes what has just happened, and sets his briefcase down. The four chairs are new, rolled up neatly under the table, and still covered deep in shrink-wrap. He hurriedly peeled the plastic off as we shared a stunned and somewhat confused look at one another. One by one, he pulled a chair out and piled up a heap of plastic on the floor. When he was finished, he grabbed his notebook full of Xeroxed pricelists in plastic sheets, and talked over what was at hand.

After talking numbers and bureaucracy, he leaves us to sit while he tidies up his end of business. In the silence, Tonya breaks down. The blinds are slapping and I stare blankly out under the grey skies at the mass that is Mexico City. He comes back in and says we can go upstairs and sit with the body now.

We walk up the stairs quietly and in to the room reserved for us. It is a large white room with several fake leather couches. In the doorway is a mega-mart art purchase of Vermeer’s “Girl With A Pearl Earring”. There are only three of us in this whole room. Purses are sat on the couch opposite the viewing area, and Natasha lets out an almost inaudible “ugh”. I follow Tonya up to the casket, and Natasha stands alone near the couch. This is such an odd thing. What possible can you say or do…but just be there for whoever needs you. We walk back to the couch and Tonya is in tears. There is a group of three bodies huddled together on a fake leather couch. It is a group hug. No one is speaking, just crying. I can’t see either of their faces, but I feel the bodies heaving and see tears falling on their fore arms which are intertwined. To me, it really is a tender moment. The arms glisten from tears in the silence. Now, we sit in silence.

Not too long in to our time alone, steps are heard in the hallway, accompanied by chattering. A strange woman walks in with a clipboard and talking loudly. She stops almost immediately with a frightened look on her face. She has just walked into the wrong room while giving others a tour of the place. She quickly apologizes and turns to leave. When she does, her followers gaze quickly inside to see what their tour guide has just interrupted. The steps trail off and their chatter echoes as they go room to room and view the place. For quite a while we sit in near silence. Tonya expresses various feelings and thoughts. She is concerned over the priest who is supposed to come, as there has been no word as to when he is supposed to arrive. I notice that on the end tables around the room are lamps. None of them are plugged in. They all have their wires still neatly bundled as if they have never been used. It feels cold in this place. Cold, as in insincere.

One of Tonya’s best friends shows up after a while. It is Loulou. They have known one another since school days. Loulou walks in and says hello and puts her purse down. She walks to Tonya and they hug. She greets Natasha and comes to me with her awkward sway and leans her head in for a kiss hello. I wonder why she has a red patch on the left side of her face, like a bug bite or something. We hug and then she sits next to Tonya, on the arm of the couch. As she is balanced there, she asks why the casket is open. She then tells Tonya to get up and shut it if she doesn’t like it. Tonya is a bit confused. Loulou asks a few more times “Do you want to close it?” She has no problem speaking her mind. She turns the talk into other topics. She tells of her fear of getting lost in the neighborhood surrounding this place. It is daunting, even to a native. She then starts in about how they had big screens set up at school and invited all the dads to come watch the opening match of the World Cup with their kids today. They had loads of food and made a big deal out of it, “I had a few quesadillas. They were good”, Loulou touts.

Loulou asks who else is expected. We sit and talk a bit in between odd silent bits. Loulou asks if anyone wants a snack or something to drink. No replies. Tonya keeps asking Loulou if she is comfortable, and if she wants to sit on the couch. As she balances herself on the arm next to Tonya, she pats it and tells Tonya she is fine, and totally comfortable. As she changes subject into subject, she keeps picking at the side of her face. She asks if there is a restroom nearby. “I need to see what is on my face” she informs us. “I keep picking my mole. I want to see what it is like. I hope it is not bleeding”

“Stop it!” Tonya says. We are all a bit shocked at this impulsive confession. Loulou laughs and starts to tell us of how she always picks her moles. She gets into details of how she pulled one of her leg and it start bleeding and she was shocked at what was in her hand, “Oh my! What is this, what did I just do!”

Moles! I don’t think any of us would have guessed this would be the topic of conversation whilst awaiting a priest before a cremation. There is laughing and a bit of geeking out. Thankfully, Loulou will be a great source of comic relief. The ice had been broken well enough for the question to be asked ‘who wants to smoke’. A great release for pent up tension. They go outside and downstairs to smoke. Upon their return we re-adjust our seating and quiet down a bit.

It is not too long before Natasha asks, “Did anyone else use the bathroom in there?” Loulou gives an affirmative. “Did the seat touch you?” Natasha asks. I look at Natasha.

“What?” asks Tonya? Loulou starts to laugh as Natasha explains. “The seat. It is adjusted too tight. When you lean forward to wipe, the cover starts to close and keeps touching you” Tonya is laughing. I am too. Loulou chimes in with the same experience.

Natasha leans forward to illustrate the point, “you have to lean forward and hold one arm back to keep the cover from touching you!” Once again, unexpected but much needed comic relief. Maybe Loulou is here to keep the mood from being too down and sullen. If so, she is doing a great job.

As the laugher dies down, another figure approaches the room. It is an acquaintance of Tonya’s mother, Martha. They worked together for quite a while. She comes in and exchanges pleasantries and sits softly down on a couch next to Tonya. It is three of us on one couch and two guests on the couch beside us. Tonya and Martha talk a bit. In times of silence, I exchange a simple smile with her. A man walks to the door and says “Con permisso”. Tonya tells him to come in. He takes a few steps inside the door and asks a few questions. He tells Tonya that the priest should be here before too long. We have now been here a few hours and the priest was supposed to be here at 1. He’s late, very late. Everyone mulls over the same question, why still no priest?

“Why is it so hard to get a priest?” I say out loud. “I mean, one would think it would be quite easy. After all, this is Mexico City, Catholic central. In a city this size you would think there would be a priest on every corner. I don’t get it…” There is a snicker or two and agreement. We get back to quiet talk and polite silence, as well as uncomfortable wiggling due to prolonged waiting on vinyl couches.

It had been maybe half an hour after the man showed up in the doorway to talk with Tonya. He now shows up again and repeats “Con Permisso”. He is here to announce the arrival of the priest, and ushers in a dark man in a white robe and a black briefcase. The man walks in hurriedly, and says hello. He walks to one side of the room and sets his briefcase down. I know it is the priest because in his other hand he has a small brass vile swinging on a chain, Holy Water. He is sweating. He doesn’t say a word, just starts to unzip his bag. He walks to window and opens it up a bit more to get a breeze in. The blinds start to slap as we watch him open up his case and start to pull out his robe and table cloth.

A rumble can be heard as the priest is getting ready. It gets louder and more noisy. It is the service elevator. As it gets even to our floor, there is more rumbling. A door beside the casket slides open. Three workers step out. The first in view is a young kid, probably a teenager. The bottoms of his jeans are ripped, making him have large flairs. He is skinny and has on a dirty t-shirt. It reads “One tequila, two tequila, three tequila FLOOR”, with a shot glass tipped over at the bottom of the image. Natasha and I shoot a glance to one another. The two other workers wheel off a table for the priest. He directs them where to put it. He hands a flower to the young man for moment while he gets prepared. He takes the flower back and breaks the stem off, handing it to the kid.

After the table is in place and the table cloth laid out in perfection, the priest is laying out his ornamentation and one worker looks at the casket and up at the ceiling. He looks around the room. He then motions up and asks Tonya is she wants all the lights turned on. She dismisses him with a quiet ‘no’. The priest is ready and tells the workers everything is ok. They pile back into the elevator, and the kid in the tequila shirt turns back towards the room to pull the door closed. The priest asked Tonya her mother’s name again. He repeats it back then takes a moment of silence.

The priest opens his book and starts the mass. I have no idea what he is saying. I am not Catholic and I do not speak Spanish. Still, it is somewhat familiar, because of scenes in movies. I recognize words like “Santo”, “espiritu”, “dominus” and other bits. He raises the book to his mouth and kisses a page. As he sets it down he raises his hands up. I notice he’s shaking. He stares across the room, looking at no one. He recites the mass. Martha repeats back the parts that are meant to be said aloud by the congregation. Tonya repeats quietly. I have no idea what to do, so I look at Tonya and when she bows, I do. I follow her lead. I sneak glances at the priest, and watch him wipe the sweat off and trace passages with his fingertips.

Hearing Martha recite the stanzas was comforting to me. It felt like someone cared, heartfelt. For a situation which seemed so sad and lonely, and the loss of someone so dear, her gentle but affirming voice warmed me. I was thinking of how sad it must be for someone to leave this world, alone. To leave without any prayers or an acknowledgement of something greater than the simple life lead here on earth. To not even speak of God, or honor the presence of him and the deceased seemed so foreign to me. I thought of what the priest was saying from the bits of Spanish I knew. His talk of God and his mercies, heaven and forgiveness echoed in my head. It seemed so necessary for all of us. To have a prayer said over a lifeless body seems like such a necessity. I cannot even fathom the thought of a body lying in silence, going to eternity without a single prayer. I thought of Tonya’s daughter standing next to me, who seems so into astrology. The absurdity played out in my head. What does one who believes in the stars do, some avid new-ager? Does some pagan wizard stand there and mumble something about Mercury in retrograde, and the alignment of Saturn put this or that house in retrograde? How futile, cold and completely lonely. I thought of how even if one does not believe in God, he is still necessary for our lives. If death is a lonely affair, to die only having a star pattern as your solace just seems completely and utterly hopeless.

The priest asks Tonya to step up to the casket. He hands her the Holy water and dips the flower into it. He recites a prayer as he flings the water on to the casket. He does this three times. The room is quiet, sling of his wrist, water drops can be heard hitting the casket. As Tonya walks back I can see calmness in her face. This time, as she stands next to me, the glistening on her forearm are drops of Holy water, not tears. A few moments later the priest says something and Martha and Loulou are giving us hugs. We are all supposed to exchange these, and in quietness and whispers, we do. It is done. Tonya quietly tells me she feels much better now. The priest takes his robe off, then folds up his table cloth. Everything is put away nicely, and with a simple “con permisso” he nods his head and disappears as quickly as he appeared. Strangely enough, I feel better too.

It isn’t too long before Martha announces she will leave. She gives out some kisses and hugs, and quietly leaves the room. We all sit back down and reflect for a bit. Natasha tells me that she is glad she has been faced with this whole experience. "Now I feel like an adult" she says. Facing a loss and death like this first hand and for the first time was like some sort of rite of passage. She admits it is uncomfortable and sad, but somehow necessary. Loulou says she needs some water. She disappears for a few minutes then returns holding up a can of some carbonated fruit drink, “Its hot” she says as she sets it down. There is a bit of talk and then all three girls go outside to have a smoke. I sit alone for a few minutes, and then decide to get some fresh air. I join them downstairs outside. It is refreshing. The sky is grey, but there is a cool breeze. The sound of the water pool is extra soothing. Loulou walks down the walkway and talks on her cell phone. We sit quietly and listen to the trickling of water and the wind. When Loulou is finished she comes and tells us to come over to her house, have a bite and relax a bit. We are all more than willing to go relax a bit.

Once again, a worker appears in the entrance and asks for Tonya. They go over a few last details. Tonya then looks at us, and says everything is fine, we can go now. We walk to Loulou’s car and make our way to her house. Loulou’s place is very cozy and welcoming. She calls down to her twins sons, and each awkward teen comes and shakes our hands and says hello. Loulou offers up some food, and sends one of her sons to go get a coke for us. While in the kitchen, Loulou proudly exclaims that the sandwich she is making me will contain the world’s most perfect avocado. She is so convinced, I am summoned in to view the beauty before it is completely used, “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asks. “It is the world’s most perfect avocado”. Tonya agrees and they laugh and marvel and the soft green beauty as it is slowly sliced up and put between bread.

We all plop down in her living room and happily nest in each of our chairs and the couch. The sandwich is awesome. We have some laughs and talk about upcoming World Cup games, The Tudors and some of Loulou’s family oddities. One of the twins sits next to me and goes over fine points of the Mexican soccer team, and lays out who he thinks will win the Cup. Later, he ashamedly admits that he loves watching ‘Malcolm In The Middle’. The surprise confession gets a round of laughs, and he hangs his head while admitting to his fondness for the show. Friends call for the twins from outside. We sit for a while longer and then Loulou volunteers to call us a cab to get back home. When it arrives, she walks us out and calls her sons, who also walk with us and say goodbye. Without a doubt, Loulou has once again, lightened up what would have been a sincerely somber affair. The cab ride home is long, and through a section of the city with a constant twisting and turning through the hills, over bridges and steep inclines. No one really says a word. It is odd, that all of this green and rolling beauty is part of the same city.

Stillness greets us as we arrive home. For a long while, each of us does our own thing in virtual silence. At one point, there is a simple question with a raised voice, “Do you want some tea?” The answer back, is soft and affirming. Tonya talks a bit as we sip our hot drinks. She is confused and sad, and definitely longing. It has been a long and very hard day. I think all of us were reflecting on the whole day as we sat and sipped with slumped shoulders. We disperse again and each goes back to our own way of dealing with the day.

It was dark now, and hunger was calling…even amongst sadness, hunger can take precedence. Tonya sits as if holding court and says with a blank face, ‘It’s late. What should we do about dinner?” A few ideas bounce back and forth for a simple solution. I remind Tonya that the magnet on the fridge holds the key; pizza coupons. For the next half hour places are exchanged in front of a laptop, looking up competing pizza joints and what is on offer. Maria Antonia comes in from work and plops down in a chair as the pizza discourse is in heated debate. Tonya and Natasha “Mmmmmmm” in unison as they see chipotle as a choice on their dream pizza. We get a few chuckles out of Maria Antonia translating preferred ingredients for our soon to be pizzas. Tonya grabs a piece of paper and a pen and writes down ingredients that each of us are requesting. She divides the choices among two big pizzas and makes the call.

Conversation speeds up the time until the bell rings with our food. I spring into action and grab plates, napkins and other necessities. Tonya brings back two hot cardboard boxes containing our custom made pizzas. Maria Antonia gets up to get her fave hot sauce. We all sit down and as the boxes are opened and steam rises, it takes away all the heaviness of the day. Like kids at a slumber party, we are thrilled to grab the hot gooey slices of pizza and plop them on our plates. The pizza has changed our moods. I would say the wine helped too, but truth be told, the hot sauce being consumed was doing more to drown our sorrows than the wine. What started out as a very grey day was ending in smiles and empty pizza boxes. We were here all together, and at the end of a day like today, that is what really mattered.