Pax Gaea Human Rights World Post

San Luis Potosi, Mexico to Morelia, Mexico

Well, after eight long days of travel, we are finally on the threshold of our new home, Patzcuaro, which is only 60 miles away.

As noted in the last blog, we opted to hang around the Holiday Inn Quixote a little later today to take advantage of the amenities the hotel had to offer. We left San Luis Potosi about 1:00 p.m. with the intention of stopping in Queretaro if the road turns out to be unpromising. It turns out the highway was virtually just like an Interstate so we made Queretaro by 3:00 and decided to push on as close as we could get to Morelia before nightfall. Beyond Queretaro the road changed dramatically and we were now back on two lane highways with steep gradients and large trucks nearly impossible to pass. Pen studies the map and saw two possible roads to Morelia, one appearing as if it were either and Autopista or Super Carretera so we patiently chugged behind the truck traffic until we saw the sign for the Autopista and in minutes we were back to traveling at 110 km/h or so all the way to Salamanca. We seemed to be having a lot of luck finding and following signs to Morelia but, alas, we reached a crossroad with no clear indication so we took the right turn and quickly discovered we were going the wrong way. We found a friendly Pemex station and an attendant who seemed to have a genuine affection for Rommel and he sketched out a route to Morelia. Now, I thought I had translated what he said to be about 200 kilometros but, once we were on the right road the signs all indicated a little over 100 kilometers. It was two lane traffic but moving fast and I figured if our luck held, we could be in Morelia by 7 p.m., find a hotel and chill out for a bit after the last long leg.

No sooner do I boast that possibility do we see a sign rerouting us through twisting rutted side streets through rough barrios around a small city. But as soon as we found our way through the detour we immediately began climbing to Morelia. Each climb brought us into spectacular lake country with breathtaking vista from these two lane ridge lined roads. Pen and the girls were snapping pictures and marveling at the sights. We were forced through yet another detour that was choked with traffic. I decided that I would trust my instincts and follow a sign indicating the direction to Morelia rather than the stream of traffic and found myself squeezing through the narrow little colonial streets next to a spectacular mission that seemed to have no apparent outlet. I asked a kind old man sitting on an adobe stoop outside his home how to get my way back to road to Morelia. He smiled and indicated a series of twists and turns through this ancient barrio that eventually put me back into the stream of traffic that, moments later thinned out and sent us across this ancient bridge that dissected this spectacular lake and immediately sent us climbing again.

We noticed as we drove that a huge road building project was underway to place an Autopista between Salamanca and Morelia. All these vast breathtaking lakes were an obvious tourist attraction judging the meticulously laid out markets fully paved and electrified that were shuttered by the time we passed. It dawn on us that, in a few short years this hard to get to little hideaway we discovered will be speeding hundred of thousands of new tourists to the region so we were fortunate to stumble across it before it became the next big Mexican hotspot. Sections of the new highway were already opened that connect an Autopista between Guadalajara and Mexico City so we sped the last few miles into Morelia just as the sky opened up and sheets of rain began pouring down.

Morelia is a very large city with mixtures of 400-year-old colonial structures combined with wildly modern structures. But one thing they greatly suffer from is the ability to channel off heavy bouts of rain and these cobble stoned streets became a virtual raging river as water reached the middle of the doors for the tens of thousands of cars that were weaving their way through Morelia. Everywhere we looked cars were stalling in their attempts to cross too deep water. Shopkeepers were making a futile effort to squeegee washing across their floors. In some places, the water was not only high but also swift, as many of these streets are incredibly steep and narrow. I must confess that I felt like I was in a Land Rover commercial as my sweet little Discovery Fabiola picked her way through the deluge with no problems. She was getting a firm grip on those cobbles as if they were a river bottom and we coursed through the flooded, dark streets craning our necks to find a hotel.

A Quality Inn sign caught my eye and we waded through a particularly chaotic channel of water to get to it. I put my begging face on, made sure I was sufficiently soaked and then began my spiel about the long drive, the horrible weather, my exhausted ninas and my pequieto perro and please, if only she could find it in her heart to let us stay. My sob story worked on the first try and a bold young attendant followed me out to the Rover to begin removing my ridiculous quantities of baggage to the room. We were a motley crew, striding across those wet tile floors. It was only after the desk clerk got a look at Rommel that she began to panic. Now, I don’t see Rommel as that big of a dog. Perhaps I am gauging that against our two Great Pyranees dogs that we had to give up for this trip. Now those dogs were huge and next to them, Rommel looked pretty puny but, to others, they must see a big dog. The look on her face when she called me over told me I had a much harder sales job to do. She took my pitch as being for a dog with, perhaps, a little less presence than this Rottweiler/Pit Bull/Hound mix. She looked so pained but told me there was no way he could come in. No matter if I was willing to pay more or cover any damages. If her bosses saw the size of that dog when they came in the morning, she would be immediately fired. Our drenched and pitiful expressions motivated her to begin dialing to see if she could locate any hotel that would take us but she hit one dead end after another. Finally, she told me to have a seat and give her a few moments to try another avenue. Just as I began thinking that we would all be spending the evening sleeping upright in the Rover, she comes to me with an option. She had called a veterinarian friend of hers to tell him of her dilemma and he offered to let Rommel stay at his kennel for the night. I was ecstatic, considering the hour and asked her to draw me a map and I’d head there now. She patted my hand sympathetically and said that wasn’t necessary, he’d come pick Rommel up if I was happy with the option.

20 minutes later, Dr. Eduardo M Betancourt Morales showed up in his little Jetta with a crate and his wife in tow. He apologized for taking so long to arrive which, to me, seemed amazingly short in this horrid weather, but they had just sat down to dinner when he got the call. To say he was kind, sympathetic and loving was an understatement. In his impeccable English he explained that Mexicans don’t commonly share a love for pets, specifically big dogs, as do Americans. He was happy to come out at this late hours in this horrible weather because he knows what it is to love dogs. He explained how Rommel would be in an inside kennel tonight and, in the morning, weather dependent, he’d be let out into an exterior pen to play and exercise. As soon as we were ready to go, we needed only to call Dr. Betancourt and he’d deliver Rommel back to us within a half-hour. All this… for about 20 bucks!

Dr. Betancourt and the young lady at the front desk are my new heroes. We just finished an excellent dinner, the girls are sleeping fitfully despite the torrent of rain, thunder and lightening that rages outside out window. Tomorrow we’ll pack up for what hopefully will be one last time as we get up with the realtor, hook up with our new veterinarian Dr. Betancourt and retrieve our trouble making boy and climb up into the mountains that ring Lake Patzcuaro, our new home for the next half year.

I will give my final thoughts on the trip in the next blog but I must say how absolutely privileged I feel to have been able to make this possibly once in a lifetime trip to this fascinating place. I put together this journey with as little planning as possible not because I was shirking responsibility or that I’m not a freak for itineraries. It was just that, in my hope to promote this simple philosophy of Pax Gaea, the notion that we are one earth and one people with the same hopes, dreams and aspirations, total strangers will do good and go beyond the call of duty when given the chance to... even for a long haired, crazy bearded man, his three precocious women and a oversized neurotic dog.

This world is full of good people. It is such a shame that we can’t take time out to get to know total strangers much less the neighbors who share our fence line. Why we let our differences drive us apart rather than letting our common humanity bring us together is something I hope to explore. Bit by bit I may pick up the language and key phrases so as to better communicate with my new neighbors but, more than that, I hope my spirit and my belief in the fundamental goodness of people allows me to send a message that I am grateful that, deep down, we are all so much alike and so greatly desire the chance to connect with everyone we encounter

posted by Dave Carroll @ 8/11/2006 01:30:00 AM