On the Road Again: Creel to Estacion de Catorce
Trip Start
Jun 30, 2006
1
6
9
Trip End
Ongoing
Estacion de Catorce, Mexico
Sunday, July 16, 2006
We arrived there at 6 A.M. and discovered that our next connection wasn't till about 6 hours later. "No problemo," plenty of time for Los Caballeros del Norte to hunt down a good cafe and rich Huevos Rancheros breakfast. "Mr. Cool" on the other hand was thoroughly bummed out by the idea of the long wait and refused our invitations of joining us, preferring to fume on his plastic stool in the bus station with his bananas.
We hoisted our packs and headed out into the bright morning. We spotted an Oxxo (the Mexican 7/11) and looked forward to our 1st cheap filtered coffee. It was there we met Celia, a plump, amiable Mexican women still wobbling from an all-night disco escapade. While sipping our Java she asked what we were doing.
"Looking for breakfast," we answered.
"Bueno," she said. "I live one block from here, let's go!"
She made eating motions with her hands to assure us of her intentions and we were off to our free breakfast with smiling Ceilia as our guide and hostess. The morning was looking brighter by the minute.
To make a long story short the hours just flew by as Ceilia filled our bellies and entertained us with her stories, photos, and hip-grinding dances with Roberto in the kitchen. She insisted we top off our morning adventure with an ample sample of Guadalajara's finest whiskey.
Soon the three of us were strolling back to the bust station, whiskies in hand, to introduce the curious Celia to Yugi. There he was, still sitting on his plastic stool peeling his third banana looking rather perplexed when our laughing group entered the station, Ryan with video camera in hand.
With goodbye hugs and kisses, full-bellies, and good feelings, the two knights of the North and dour-faced Yugi climbed aboard a jam-packed 3rd class bus for our ride to Estacion de Catorce. There were no direct busses to Real de Catorce so we trusted fate in this alternate course that we had never heard about before.
Hours later, after a terrible stinky bus ride, we arrived in a quiet, dusty, high-desert village which was not on our map and which most people cruise right through. When we asked the locals where Real was they pointed up to the mountains and said the path was "far, steep, tiring, hot, and expensive." Our Japanese Gollum freaked when he heard the news and immediately jumped on the next bus returning in the direction from which we came, hoping to reach the main highway before nightfall and make another connection.
We noticed some activity down at the plaza and asked a local cowboy what was happening tonight.
Cowboy: "Una fiesta grande esta noche!"
LCDN: "A party tonight?! Donde esta un hotel mass barrato (where's the cheap hotel)?
We were directed to a bar that was missing half of its swinging saloon door. We entered in and were greeted by the grim-faced stares of drunk local cowboys with greasy faces, blood shot eyes, and dirty intensions. It was like when the 3 Amigos entered their first Mexican Bar, before they started singing "My Little Buttercup." One of the shifty-eyed desperados showed us to our "room."
"What you guys want?" he asked us. "Motta(Marijuana), mescaline, peyote?"
"Where's the shower?" we asked.
A little later, refreshed, and in a clean change of clothes we returned to the plaza looking for our first taste of cold beer. In the meantime, the crowd had grown to enormous proportions. "Where are all of these people coming from?" we wondered. With two ice-cold Modelos in hand we scoped out the crowd. Ryan made eye contact with two gringas(the only ones) and walked over to introduce himself and Bob. Happy to make our acquaintance was Lisa, a blonde Canadian from Vancouver, and Kelly, a beautiful young Texan. They were the only two white girls in town and were working as volunteers on a social project through aurisproject.org.
We soon learned that the festival was being hosted by the new mayor of the region, Petra Puente, and that there was going to be free food and a huge party. Peasants were arriving from all over the outlying villages and distant ranchos. Free breakfast and dinner in one day! We Christened it "Lucky Sunday" and enjoyed the biggest party the town had ever seen. After a few obligatory political speeches the band started playing and the dancing began. Needless to say, each of us had a girl in hand and danced the night away. Ryan's last dance with Kelly became legend.
Later, slipping into the covers for a night of blissful rest we thought about our luckless friend Yugi, his self-induced stress, and where he might be. We wished him well as we formulated the next . . .
Lesson from Uncle Bob: Let go of plans and expectations. Just go with the flow.
Comments
Boucher, did you write this?
Whoever did has a great vocabulary. You two never cease to surprise me.
Bouchet and Ryzn at it again.
Awesome luck fellas. Sounds like fun and fate are on your side. Hope it continues this well.