THE MEXICO JOURNAL 2

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by Tom H. Brooks 3

It turns out that this book is a mess…almost illegible; shreds of conversation, snippets of random events, covered with dirt stains or bloodstains.
It is a real train wreck.  I am obligated to do some serious trimming and editing to this one.  At least it helps me remember some of the things
that happened and that was the whole point, after all.  The writing is nothing special but the subject matter is interesting….there is no organization,
no distinct timeline; I just jump from one topic to another with no discernible pattern.  Accept it.  It was sensory overload.  It requires a future overhaul
of everything, a novel, a story…..but this…well, this is just pure, unfettered madness, the notes of a guero lunatic with jungle fever…read it and weep, baby….
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I believe I left off drifting into slumber to night insects and Mexican fiesta music in the distance.  It was a foreign sleep, filled

with strange and vivid dreams.  All night the insects droned and sang and I could even hear the occasional chirp of a gecko
in the walls.  I woke up to roosters crowing all over town.  The family was waiting for us with tamales and coffee and some
alcoholic milk drink called rupope?  I think that was the name.  I`ve got to learn to slow down from the city life to the country
life.  Even though I am quite laid back in LA, it is like I`m going 10 miles a minute down here.  Everything here is later…later
(mas tardes).  Slow d o  www   nnnn……..   bueno.
Now we`re driving around Colima cobblestone roads with our friends Ramiro and Miguel.  Got a grande sack of mota (1 ounce)
for 100 pesos!  I think I said 1000 before.  Whatever, it was only about 10 dollars.  What a fucking bargain.  Bueno.  After that,
we went for some fresh-squeezed orange juice at a Mexican smoothie bar at a town farmer`s market.  Meeting everybody.
Police will drive anything and everything here…vans, trucks, Toyotas, Pintos, tractors, bicycles….anything that is available.
Smoking weed in a sugarcane field next to a rodeo stadium.
The coffee here is grown on the side of the volcano along with the coca leaves.
Our amigo Ramiro, owns 5 taco stands around town, each of which makes around 1000 pesos a day.  He says,
” I only work when I want to.”
My young little friend, Berenice (8 years old) told me that my head looks like a coconut.  She`s right.
By the way, it turns out this young girl is my best Spanish teacher.  I actually learn quite a lot from her.
Mama Maria always sits in the shade in front of the house talking to every passerby in Spanish, holding
court, presiding over her little corner of this sleepy Mexican paradise. Besides meeting everyone in town,
I also enjoy meeting Mexican animals, birds, cats, dogs, mules, horses…all of you….mucho gusto…..
Ashes are falling from the sky; it turns out to be burning sugarcane.  I thought the volcano was exploding.
I always bump my head on doorways in the house because they are all too low for a tall gringo such as me.
There are chickens and roosters everywhere!  I saw a rooster walking through the goddamned house this
morning!  It is later…. my first time in a rustling windy sugarcane field.  Oh shit, there are some monster
spiders in here!  Volcanic land, the hiss of la cana, sunset, silencia….
I was out taking a dump in the toilet by the river that runs through the backyard when I was startled by
a big-ass wild turkey or some such beast.  What a way to wake up at 5:30 am!
Later, Berto (85 years old and still spry and devilish) winks at Eric and I and signals us to come with him.
We follow him down the street for about 10 minutes (he`s fast for an old dude.)  We go out to a field with
some ranchero local boys and a bunch of cows.  We try a fascinating drink called a “paloma.”  It is basically
sugar, Mexican chocolate powder, pure grain alcohol (STRONG), and milk–straight from the cow`s tit.  Yes,
it`s warm and no, it`s not disgusting…it`s fucking delicious.  To be out in a sugarcane field at 6:15am, dawn,
with the Mexican cowboys drinking palomas in the crisp morning air beneath volcanoes of fire and ice.  There
are no words to describe the magic of it.  Plus, I can`t write anymore right now, that shit packs a punch
and we are buzzzzzzzed…..  they told me not to go in the sugarcane fields anymore because of what lives
in there….rats, tarantulas, coyotes, huge insects, iguanas…..I think I`m gonna listen to the locals.  We followed
the palomas by a stroll around the edges of the field and a morning joint.  Then we had breakfast back at the house;
warm tortillas, chorizo, cafe leche…
Then Eric and I got ahold of a couple of horses from Ramiro and we went for a drunken horseback ride.  Some may
think this dangerous but honestly, you`d think we`d been riding horses for years.  I was standing on my legs a
little, moving with the horse so as not to smash my balls, steering him around town, galloping….that horse and I
got along famously.  I think I was a cowboy in a previous life.  Rode back to the house, put the horses in the
stables and helped break some rocks with sledgehammers and throw `em in the river.  A little backbreaking but
I didn`t mind putting in some work time in trade for all the hospitality.  Everyone is so nice, they make you feel
like part of the family.  This poison oak is still driving me nuts, I`m gonna get some calamine lotion for it, I think
I got it in my eyes….aaaaaahhhhhhhh!  The duct tape bandages just aren`t cutting it anymore.  That night
we actually had fried bananas for dinner.  I think I just tried cow brains and heart and my fingernails are filthy black
with dirt and/or blood.  What a scumbag.  I tried an amazing soup served with tortillas, jalapeños, some kind of
little red chiles and tequila.  It was an authentic Colima recipe and the name, I`m just not sure of.
The next day, more work.  I`m not sure why we`re doing it, but we`re doing it again.  HOT and backbreaking work
under a burning tropical sun…throwing huge boulders into the shit river out back.  Enveloped in a cloud of dust,
I gave them a dose of my boulder tossing skills, scorpions and other strange bugs be damned, I smashed those
boulders with my hammer and heaved `em in there, punishing myself for all my sins.  There`s nothing like
cold Tecates after working for `em though.  This town of El Trapiche is as off the beaten path as it gets,
although Eric tells me that Cuyatlan is even more remote.  There will be no gringo tourists there.  They go to
Manzanillo which is an old Spanish seaport.  Stranger in a strange land…..indeed.  Everyone, watches Mexican
soap operas(novellas) and then has a siesta from 1 to 3.  Later, we take Ramiro`s green van family truckster
up higher on the volcano.  I have taken to calling his classic wood paneled van THE MYSTERY MACHINE from
Scooby Doo.  It is so great to be here in this strange place and I am amazed at some people`s lack of vision
and/or sense of adventure.  As we get closer to the twin volcanoes, I think that these huge peaks of fire and ice
represent every contradiction, paradox, and irony of human existence.  We are on an ancient stone Toltec road.
We are 30 km from the top of the volcanoes.  It is sensory overload.  We arrive at a little volcanic jungle town
high on the mountain (10,000 feet).  It is twilight and the village is shrouded in mist and utterly alien.  We bought
a big 2 liter bottle of “blood of the mezcal” in the mountain town of San Antonio.  It was in a Squirt bottle of all
things…it was like bootleg tequila.  Sangria de mezcal….I think it had peyote or something in it….fucked us
up.  Watched them kill a pig for some carnitas tacos that I ended up eating later that night.  They shot it
with a .22 caliber rifle and it was still twitching so Ramiro sliced it`s neck with a machete.  Brutal, but damn,
those tacos we ate later were delicious!  Just took a picture with some BEAUTIFUL exotic mountain girls
in a small town called Cutchitlan.  Pure and gorgeous Cutchi Indios…of Toltec Indian descent.  Flowing wavy
black hair and cocoa brown skin and big, dark brown Asiatic eyes and high cheekbones.  They couldn`t have
been any taller than 5 foot 3 though.  No matter when the hombres get home, the ladies seem to have
food waiting.  It is amazing.
The central town plaza of El Trapiche is built of cement tiles that contour the slant of the hill it is built on.  In
America, we tend to level things out, to re-shape the land.  This is all new to me, uneven, quite charming though,
and altogether somewhat disorienting….especially after blood of the mezcal.
Going down to the beach (la playa) for awhile today, for the 1st time (tiempo primero) in Colima.  We are heading
to Laguna de Cuyatlan.  Coming down out of these jungle mountains, passing through a desert like area of
rugged cliffs and impossibly green fertile valleys with Toltec ruins.  We finally arrive at the coastal lowlands
which consist of swamps and green fields and coconut palms…millions of them.  This land is rugged and unspoiled
by tourism and it is utterly entrenched in traditional ways that have existed for hundreds of years.  It is spectacular
and gorgeous and I sincerely doubt we`ll see any Hilton hotels in Cuyatlan anytime soon….and I give thanks for that…
We have arrived at our “house” in Laguna de Cuyatlan, if you want to call it that.  It is nestled under the shade
of some beautiful trees with coconut palms in back.  There is a graveyard right next to us and beyond that, the
railroad tracks.  The roads are all dirt, no pavement.  There is a water well right across from us (drinkable? maybe
not…but it can be used for baths.)  We will live off the land and the kindness of our friends and neighbors.
Our “house” is a wood, grass and palm leaf shanty hut built in the old Toltec style.  This town consists mostly
of this type of house with a few corrugated tin shacks that blight the landscape.  This one is old school.
We cleaned it up right away (as much as you CAN clean a shanty with dirt floors.)  I found a spider the size of
my hand immediately and we were to see the scorpions later as night came on.  Our little amigos, Chango and
Aurelio clambered up the palms with the greatest of ease and showed us how to hack open coconuts with
a machete.  Later we tried some ARMADILLO SOUP….yes, you heard me correctly.  The flavor was good but
I threw the meat to a starving skinny dog nearby.  HARDCORE.  We have adopted the two mongrel dogs and
named them Cutcho and Lupe.  We are steps from the beach and they follow us everywhere.
Waving trees , native children, the music of the insects, the crash of the waves, the quiet whisper
of the palms, the screech of the vultures, distant Mexican music on the tropical air, cold Tecate with lime and salt,
tequila, mota, huge iguanas, mosquitoes eating us alive, flies harassing us by day, the silence of the graveyard….
Some of these mosquitoes are the size of a baby`s fist and they are very aggressive.  I hope I don`t get malaria
or dengue fever…….
Sometimes I get a little mad because I am in Mexico and I am still poor.  Eh, what`re you gonna do?  There`s no
black folks down here either.  My Spanish is getting a little better but not good enough.  I hit my head everyday
many times on low doorways.  Eric suggested we dig a trench around the house and through the doorways.  I think
we`re gonna do it `cause I got too many bumps on my coconut head.  You know, I just noticed, there`s no Japanese
tourists here either.  Everyone says they want to live in a grass shack…….well, here it is.  I`m living it.  The sea
crashes at night and the bugs howl in the trees and we dodge scorpions.  Did you know they glow under a black
light?  We know for a fact because Eric brought one.  Lizards lizards everywhere…..
If I wanted to get into vandalism around here, there would be no windows to break with rocks.  I guess we could
throw some coconuts through people`s palm leaves….but why would we do that?    Heh Heh Heh
Hallucinando…sangria de mezcal …wolves?  NO …wolves…maybe….text garbled here…what the fuck is going on?
This campfire is HUGE!  We don`t wanna burn the whole village down.  A donde va?  Nowhere….walk to the night
sea….chainsmoking joints…..H A L L U C I N A N D O……tequila   ….this time I ate the worm  …I think that`s what
did it.  Where am I?  I am here….NOW…in the moment.  Dogfights in midnight dusty alleys…casa  de loco……Donde
esta casa de Pepe…dias de los muertos…ghosts…songs of the dead….misty graveyard….cackling hysterical laughter
in the darkness….wait that`s us…….WTF??….phantoms…..apparitions…back to the warmth of the fire…the flames
speak to me in their crackling enigmatic language….a rabid dog runs by with a skeletal face and hisses….did I just
hear the scream of a crow at night….no no no…….delirium…
I think we are actually poorer than the Mexicans.
A huge scorpion came in the front door with his pinchers up in an attack position, like ,”What`s up, mofos, you want
some of this?!”  We said no, Eric picked up an ax, walked over and chopped the scorpion into many pieces.  It was
him or us.  Incidentally, it was the same ax that fell on my fucking foot yesterday, dull end first, lucky for me, but it
still HURT.  In the middle of the night my hammock cord snapped and I fell 4 feet onto my tailbone.  What a great
goddamned way to wake up….AAARRRGGHHH!!!  Thank god for the painkilling curative powers of large amounts of
tequila.
Back to El Trapiche for a few days.  Mama Maria is still sitting in front of the house chattering to everyone.  I don`t
think she ever left while we`ve been gone (5 days…6?)  I have lost all track of time at this point.  Our friend Mario
was dressed like a Mexican cowboy and we told him he looked like a badass.  Mama said, “He may look like one
but he don`t ACT like one.”  She is always the witty one.  We told her she looks beautiful in the photos I take of her
and she says, “I always look beautiful.”  Berto says she looks like a cow.  I said ci, not knowing what he said, and
everyone, including Maria laughs heartily.  Their black shaggy dreadlocked dog, Negruda, reminds me of my dog
Charlie, from when I was little.
Sitting at our amigo, Ramiro`s house after a morning of palomas and a town walkabout.  We are watching Mexican
soap operas (these chicks are HOT), and Mexican lottery advertisements.  Ramiro is peeling radishes for tonight`s
food and fiesta.  It is truly and utterly a surreal setting.  Now he`s chopping onions and cilantro.  He is a classic dude,
about 50-years-old, with a belly and a big gray mustache and fat sideburns.  This festival I speak of is in Jalisco in
a mountain town called Talpa.  We will go there in a couple of days.  It is preceded by 9 days of fiestas all over this
part of Mexico with food and drink and dancing and fireworks.  It celebrates the Virgin of Guadalupe, La Madre de
Todos Los Dias, the Mother of All Days.  Chickens clucking, roosters, dragonflies and sugarcane ash falling from the
sky in the sleepy afternoon sun.  Tiempo para siesta.
Everyone`s clock seems to say a different time here.  I really haven`t had any idea what time it is for weeks now.
I guess time has no meaning in the Mexican tropics.  The palm waving at the end of the street here in El Trapiche
was silhouetted by a blue haze that looked like the ocean….a figment of my imagination, surely.
Now Eric and I are riding around in the back of pickup trucks.  We are Mexicans.  A random sight: many women
in colorful peasant dresses sweeping the dusty streets in the afternoon twilight.
One homo in the whole city and of course, we have to meet him.
Ostrich meat tacos…tastes almost the same as beef.
The town of Sutchitlan…the girls are stunning.
I just saw a Mexican cowboy riding with a Tecate in hand.
A 6 inch deadly spider being thrown around by a bunch of kids…..(they are throwing it AT each other……ha ha…fun)
Met some dudes from Comala that were jacked up on coke…they offered to share, we denied.  Didn`t trust `em….banditos?  policia?
Again, in the back of a pickup truck returning from the fiesta in Sutchitlan with our Mexican family all around us.  Night mist, sugarcane
fields in a volcanic and mysterious ancient land.
In El Trapiche, we`ve been going to sleep earlier than usual, from 8 to 10pm.  Probably because we know Berto will wake
us up at dawn for palomas in the fields.  In Cuyatlan, it is a different story…there we stay up late going apeshit on mezcal.
My goal for today is to see one of my little Mexican amigo kids wearing my Skyy Vodka shirt with a Mexican
wrestling mask like a little Tito La Brea.  I accomplished it and I have a picture to prove it.
“I`ll throw you in the cane fields, esse….”
I don`t know where that comment came from, it wasn`t the kid!
My shoes are Pumas and they have real pumas here on the sides of the volcano although I have yet to see one.
The key to speaking proper Spanish is to mumble, don`t move your lips and talk real fast.
Trucks overflowing with Mexicans, even on the hood, driving 40mph down El Camino Real…
The volcano is crystal clear today.
“Only white people and burros walk in the noonday sun.”   Words of wisdom from Berto.
When they talk too fast for me in Spanish, I just pull the old switcheroo and talk real fast in English.
Little kids don`t realize that my Spanish is not that good.  They think I`m deaf or something and that yelling
in my ear will help.  Cute.
I know nothing.  Yo no se nada.
We are starting to see more and more kids running around El Trapiche wearing our shirts as we gradually give everything away.
Great Mexican music, Tres Animales…
Pig intestine soup….Pasode?
Best salsa yet…homemade….delicious….
Washing a dirty car on a dirt road that you`ll be driving on later through the mud…….seems kind of pointless, eh?
Joke from Eric: “chicks fuck guys so they have someone to talk to; guys talk to chicks so they have someone to fuck.”
Ramiro; “if it doesn`t burn your stomach, it`ll burn your ass….”
We were assaulted by a barrage of 15-year-old girls in Sutchitlan…felt like the Beatles.
First thing in the morning; came outside and saw a pig get it`s head cut off.  That`ll wake ya up…
You should see Ramiro with his fat belly and his mustache and chops leering at every chick`s ass….classic…
We went to a Mexican Rodeo and they announced in Spanish that they have some friends here from CA.
We`re hanging at the Rodeo with a tough Mexican lesbian, drinking Mezcalito and watching horses and bulls
with money on their horns and checking out the beautiful ladies.  Odelay…..whatever you`re doing, keep doing it….
Horses dance to Mexican music at the Rodeo.
Took a walk that night around the El Trapiche plaza with our little amigos, Martha, Alondra and Suzy and we were
constantly filmed, photographed and basically treated like stars.  Two gringos in wifebeater shirts.
This must be what it`s like to be famous except you`d be in LA or NYC and not a remote Mexican village.
It`s still fun though.
This morning, the explosion of fireworks at 5am followed by a full-on fiesta Mexican band walking down the street
playing raucous loud happy music. It`s not even light out yet!  Now I understand that whooping and hollering–
it sounds just like the roosters.
We better watch our backs flirting with all these young ladies in El Trapiche because it would be so easy for
one of the local homeboys to just slash our throats and throw us in the sugarcane fields.  Can`t turn off the
natural charm though.  Don`t get mad at me just cause you can`t handle your woman.
Back in Cuyatlan for a couple of days.  We have a chicken family living in our house…I mean actual chickens;
Rooster, hen and chicks.  The rooster wakes me up cockadoodling every morning before dawn and I chase
him down the street with a stick and blood red eyes.  That motherfucker is fast!
Living off the land, fishing with Aurelio and Pancho (Chango).  They show us where to get bananas, papayas,
avocados and of course, Chango climbs the trees for coconuts everyday.  Coconuts are surprisingly tasty with
picante sauce….believe it.
I think I could die here.
I might.
We had a beehive in the house so Chango`s father, Francisco, just walks in midday, grabs it, puts it in a plastic
bag and walks out.  It was that easy for him.
Eric is busy chopping coconuts with a machete, sharpening knives and catching chickens.  I just said here
smoking pot and drinking a beer and reading a book with a stupid smile on my face. My flesh is burnt red
from the sun with festering wounds from mosquitos and the now healing poison oak rash.  I am surrounded
by the ever-present fucking flies and I am listening to Desmond Dekker.  Life is grand.
I watch the butterflies and parrots and little yellow birds in the trees, green leaves swaying gently under an
electric blue sky.
A bat just flew right by my face in the night, swift and silent.  There are hundreds of little bats at night here,
and a few big ones.
A trail of giant ants, each one carrying a little sliced leaf in it`s pincers….I wonder what they`re up to.
Eric went somewhere alone today, so I walk 10 miles south along the beach to Tecoman.  I am wearing swim
trunks only.  No shirt, no shoes, no worries.  I have a bottle of water and a few pesos for tacos.  I swim in
the ocean when I get hot.  Just me and the vultures and the coconut palms.  There are thousands of bees
on the sand.  I think they come to the ocean to die.  I have to watch my step.  I don`t see a single person between
Cuyatlan and Tecoman.  I feel like Robinson Crusoe.
There is a store in Cuyatlan that says Mahalo.  I believe that is Hawaiian.
Tonight we did a stupid thing.  We went out looking for wild boar in the swamps with Aurelio and Pancho.  Besides
being eaten alive by mosquitoes and other bloodsuckers, we were armed only with one .22 caliber popgun and 4
machetes.  Now I hear wild boars are up to 300 pounds of angry territorial monster pig.  Try to stop one of those
bastards with a tiny rifle or a machete.  I don`t think so.  Fortunately for us, we didn`t see any, although I think we heard
them snuffling around in the bushes.  You gotta give us some props for this one.  It takes some balls and a certain
amount of reckless abandon to wander around a fetid swamp in the dead of night hunting for wild pigs.
When we gave up and got back to the village, we climbed to the top of some kind of communication tower
over the ocean and drank tequila and smoked joints.  Beautiful.  Still alive.  More than ever.
Morning, back to El Trapiche where we will join the family for a religious pilgrimmage to the mountain town of
Talpa in Jalisco.  Apparently, people attend this from miles around and some of the more devout pilgrims even
crawl there on their hands and knees(You may have seen this type of behavior on “Breaking Bad”).  I think it might
be a little cold up there. Maria has transformed from emotional to happy to concerned Mama.  She was worried
about us down there by the sea and there is a hurricane coming.  I`m more worried about Pancho and Aurelio
although they`ve seen it all before.  They are tough kids.  Maria is wearing a burgundy sweatsuit and glasses,
a woman for all seasons.  Berto is in his little secret room putting down some tequila.  We join him.  The neighbors
really co-exist here, connected bathrooms and kitchens….the whole bit.
We are leaving for Talpa now.  It is my first Mexican bus ride….beyond surreal, sunrise in Talpa after an all night
bus ride on a winding and precarious mountain road.  There was a movie “See Spot Run” with David Arquette
in Spanish.  I think it is probably actually funnier in Espanol.  I`m staring at the light at the front of the bus and
the desert mountains.  The hotel in Talpa is authentic with brick ceilings and floor mats.  We saw many people
crawling here.  At least we got to take a bus.  Many families in each room….and ME and Eric.  HA!  How did I
get here?  So far, I haven`t seen anyone in this town over 5 foot 6.
Walking myself into a beautiful church at dawn in this gorgeous old town.  It was built in the 1500s by the Spanish.
Swallows are darting around the steeple and I am full of rompope (that alcohol coffee drink that we all seem to love.)
No one here is shy about their religious devotion.  There are people covered in blood (fake, real?), they are carrying
crosses, crawling on their hands and knees, crying, almost a hysterical and fanatical devotion to the Virgin of
Guadalupe.  Thousands of people, not just a few….thousands.  The sound of the lively Mexican band playing
music in the grand old church and the sermon in Spanish gave me a few glimmering tears in the corner of my
eye…it`s just so beautiful.  Life is such an unfathomable mystery.
“Forgive them Father, they know not what they do.”
Mama Maria, pray for us all.
This is just one of 10,000 churches built by the Spanish in 300 years….incredible.
(In my book, I have some drawings of inscriptions seen on the churches but obviously, I cannot reproduce them here.)
The most amazing church ceremony of my life….beautiful singing in Spanish, memories of a lifetime, emotions
stirred within me, endless, mysterious, profound…the power of religion leaves me in awe.
I understood a lot of the priest`s sermon, even in Spanish,”Love your brothers and sisters, your life will be
stronger, more beautiful, more profound.”
Sleep deprivation is good for me in Mexico.  Delirium is my favorite drug.
Climbed a mountain to see Cristo Rey (Christ the King?)  A huge statue, surrounded by Toltec ruins.
The town lies sprawled out below us.  I think Talpa is the place where the Toltecs finally gave up fighting
the Spanish and just accepted Jesus, although it seems to me that Mexican Catholicism is more Goddess worship.
I hear more prayers to Mother Mary than to Jesus.
The ladies here are gorgeous with green eyes and Asiatic faces.  It is most definitely Indian blood running through
their veins.
Everyone is hacking and coughing and I slept in a room with 15 Mexicans.  Now this is a strange experience.  For
me anyway, I don`t know about them.
All these religious folks think Eric is Jesus.
Oh my god, that girl on the balcony is a GODDESS.  I don`t care if she`s 16, I`m almost ready to marry her
and take her back to America.
Again, Berto walks SO fast for an 85 year old man.  “He says it`s for heart, mind, soul, and the total organism.”
People are cooking in the halls of this hotel; Asada, birria, fresh tortillas, who knows what…..EVERYTHING.
What a firetrap.
An old ranchero who owns this hotel was telling me how he lived in LA for 20 years and that`s where I`m from
and I should speak better Spanish.  He was right.
Iguana tamales.  I`ve never eaten a lizard until today.  HMMMMM wasn`t bad…..wouldn`t make a habit of it though.
Eric and I were down by the river talking and drinking beer.  He was talking about something and I drifted off.
He let me sleep for like an hour.  I must have been exhausted, snoring and sleeping on hard, bumpy rocks with the lizards.
Mucho barracho.
Names on my journey to Talpa…..Berto, Maria, Berenice, Ramiro, Mercedes, Nancy, Mario, Chayo, Juan, Felipe, Alida,
Odelia, Cruz, little Maria, Enrique, Jacqueline, Guadalupe, Eres……..
Never forget…..
White pigeons fluttering down from the parapets of an ancient church, silhouetted against the glowing indigo sky
just before dawn.  Church bells are ringing, bands are playing, people are laughing and god truly is everywhere in so
many ways if not literally…..
This journey will always be with me.
Beautifully colored and embroidered robes, Yaqui, Toltec, Azteca, Cutchi…..all Indian tribes are represented….you stop
thinking of them as Mexicans and think of them as Indians from a culture much older than Spain.  Their cultural heritage
is rich and flled with lore.  The most fascinating mix of Catholicism and Indian traditions and superstitions.  The dances are
amazing and that Yaqui Indian girl dancing all in white is very sexy and is getting me emotional.  She is a goddess incarnated.
It made me both happy and sad to see all that has been lost and all that has been gained in this strange land.  A turbulent
history and an amazing heritage that has survived all the beatings from the Spanish Catholics.  The Indian natives live
on in Mexico.
3 ghouls stuffed with socks hitting each other ….this one escapes me…..I`m not sure what`s going on.
Many tribes here from Nayarit.  Oh, I just found out….the ghouls signify death and the warriors are scoffing at it.
Every path to the light is a different one.
Thank you for this amazing journey and the extraordinary experience that is MY LIFE.
Back on the bus heading home.  Watching Eddie Murphy in “The Nutty Professor” and Martin Lawrence in “Blue Streak”, of course,
in Spanish.  We returned to El Trapiche.  Sleep……..
It is morning and we are heading back down to the beach at Laguna de Cuyatlan.  The days will be filled with sun, ocean, sand, waving
coconut palms and bananas and avocados.
The day we got back, we met some beautiful babes from Guadalajara and had a really sexy time with them late into the night,
laughing and drinking tequila by firelight under the stars.   Yes, life is very good.
_____________________________________
We went on this way for another few weeks of chaos and delirium.  Eventually, all good things come to an end.  We started to run REALLY
low on pesos.  The time came that we just had to leave.  I said my goodbyes in Cuyatlan. Eric and I drove back to El Trapiche where he planned
to stay a little longer.  I thanked all of these wonderful people for their love and hospitality.  I said my farewells.  Eric drove me to the airport.
We sat there beneath the trees and smoked that final joint and looked upon the twin volcanoes and dreamed in the green shade.  It was the last
time I saw that kid but I always remember him.  He lives on because I remember him.  I still see him walking down a dusty road beneath the
palms holding an ancient Toltec spear in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.  Viva Mexico!!
I will leave you with this………
“The pen will never be able to move fast enough to write down every word discovered in the space of memory.  Some things have been lost
forever, other things will perhaps be remembered again, and still other things have been lost and found and lost again.  There is no way
to be sure of any of this.”
Paul Auster
“The Book of Memory”
This journey was a dream that we actually lived.  It is lost in the mists of time and yet it lives on forever……….Tom Brooks
THB3
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