Into the Clouds
In a semi-surprise move, I left the arid landscape of San Miguel to join Christine and Antoine as they whisked (or more accurately, kidnapped) Danny away to Veracruz for an extended birthday weekend. Naturally, as time was of the essence, my bus to Mexico City was late. Antoine and I sat in traffic for an hour before reaching the house, where we hastily loaded up the car (including a sickly cat who could not be left at home) and headed back into the concrete mayhem. Day turned into night as we idled in agonizing gridlock with only the occasional churritos from street hawkers to ease our discomfort.
By the time we reached Xalapa, it was nearly midnight and the darkness was complete. Our GPS took us down terrifyingly isolated unpaved roads where the potholes made our car pitch so violently we were thrown against the strain of our seatbelts. The roads only got narrower, rougher, and darker. Images of abductions and armed holdups flittered through my over-tired brain, as did the travel advisories I’d read about the ongoing violence in Veracruz. I made a ridiculous mental plan to pummel any potential bandits with the case of Dos Equis balanced on my lap.
In the end, my beer bottle defense skills were unnecessary. We reached Isabelle and Eduardo’s house to the disharmonious fanfare of five dogs and a full henhouse. Tired, cranky, and likely smelling less than desirable, we were ushered into their artsy home and served a midnight meal of sopa de fideo and quesadillas. Weary and incoherent, we all collapsed into welcoming beds.
Morning brought the cry of roosters and the smell of the forest. We were perched in the woods where the jungles of the lower valleys merged with high altitude forests, producing an arrangement of biodiversity that seemed out of a fantasy novel. Tropical flowers of all colours wound around towering oak trees covered in bright green moss. Banana trees grew next to maples. Mist shimmered around the trunks of shaded coffee trees and clung to the fragile petals of trembling orchids. The air was hot and muggy, heavy with thoughts of rain but bright with hummingbirds.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the entity that is Isabelle and Eduardo is my spirit animal. Their quirky house was filled with art from Mexico, Kenya, and India. Their lush gardens bore not only tropical fruits and macadamia nuts, but organic coffee and cocoa. We drank strong coffee that had grown and in their backyard and ate sugary chocolate ground and mixed by Eduardo himself. Fresh eggs and milk from their livestock set our table. The dogs raced around the house begging for someone to play, and tropical songbirds leant their melodies to our breakfast.
The weekend was slow and lovely. We wandered through Xalapa’s anthropology museum, surrounded by treasures of Latin American civilization’s birth. We soaked in a thermal spring until Christine and I were delirious with relaxation (and altered blood pressure). We browsed handicraft markets full of semi-precious gems (Eduardo bought a vaguely metallic looking rock that the vendor swore was a meteorite). We ate delicious seafood above a tumbling river, though biting black flies left us red with angry welts. On our last morning, we hiked through the jungle, marvelling at the vibrancy of birds and blooms.
Now back in San Miguel, I’m left to wonder at the vast world that is Mexico. I’m becoming more and more enchanted with it; I want to go deeper, to learn its heartbeat and revel in its impossible beauty. Though for now, some smoky enchiladas will do.
*UPDATE: I should add that a long-distance bus ride here will get you a recliner chair, personal flatscreen, and a complimentary beverage and Krispy Kreme. Travel ain't so bad.
