Further South of the Border IV: Los Alamos, City of Gringos

What I realize now, thinking back on the adventure, is that in the back of my mind during the entire trip was the dread of traveling with farm animals inside of a vehicle for 8 hours or more. Any one who knows me knows that I have a nose that will sniff out the slightest odor. It is a gift and a curse. I anticipated being nauseous for the duration of our trip home and I was preparing myself for it. I kept secretly hoping that the search for animals would prove fruitless.

After finishing our meal at the outdoor market, we drove to Los Alamos. The highway leading to the city was surrounded by beautiful hills. Carlos mentioned that Los Alamos is very popular with Americans who come down to hunt and fish for vacation. I was aware that there are areas in coastal cities like Mazatlan, Sinaloa with enclaves of American ex-patriots but I wasn’t aware that Los Alamos was one of them. As we drove into the city, I began to understand why. We first drove to the plaza. It was beautiful and, on one side, was the Catholic church. Within the plaza was an absolutely beautiful gazebo surrounded by plants and flowers and palm trees.

The ceiling of the gazebo was a work of art:

We walked into the church silently as there were several people praying. It was very much like previous Mexican churches I had been in and I appreciated that it was open to the public during the day instead of only during Mass.

We walked around a bit and absorbed the atmosphere. As we talked I learned that Americans living in Los Alamos outnumber Mexicans. I found this surprising and yet not surprising. If I were to retire to Mexico, Los Alamos would certainly be one of my choices. This also explained the number of police officers patrolling the city on foot, all polite and extremely helpful. I guess the city knows that to keep the area attractive to Americans, they need to supply what Americans want: police protection and lots of restaurants and shops.

On one of the hills surrounding the city is a scenic overlook. We drove up there to take in the sights. It was really beautiful and I wish the picture here could convey the openness, the smell of the blossoming trees and the feel of the wind blowing. At the summit of the hill was a gazebo and several seating areas hewn from stone. Artistry and craftsmanship seemed to emanate from the city below us, so full of color and life.

We posed for a group picture before heading back down and toward Navojoa.

Further South of the Border III: Into Navojoa

We arose early on March 11, 2008 and had a breakfast of seafood stew and corn tortillas at Carlos’ mom’s house. Corn tortillas are preferred over flour tortillas in Mexico and I believe that flour tortillas are usually only found close to the U.S.-Mexican border. I read that the Spanish conquistadors introduced the making of tortillas with flour rather than corn. I prefer flour tortillas as I think the strong flavor of corn tortillas competes too much with the flavor of the food they are eaten with.

After breakfast, we set out for Juan Pablo's house. We met up with Juan Pablo and after drinking a round of Cokes (a national pastime in Mexico), Juan Pablo's brother, Pollo, joined us and we set off for the city. On the way, we took a short detour to a poultry farm, looking for baby chicks. Carlos and I stayed in the truck, just outside the gates. The smell was awful and in that moment I considered seriously becoming a vegetarian. The real benefit of this excursion was that Carlos and I had a fruitful conversation in which God gave him insight into a problem that he was having. The chickens were not for sale (thankfully), so we sallied forth.

Navojoa is thoroughly modern and is Mexico’s fifth largest city. It was clean and well-ordered in sharp contrast to Nogales. We proceeded to the center of the city to the mercado (market) which is a sort of mix of a farmer’s market and open-air retail shops. The mercado was about two blocks from the plaza. Every proper Mexican town or city has a plaza and, on one side of the plaza, a Catholic church. The weather was pleasant with sun and a slight breeze as we went to see the plaza.

By this time, our group had split in half. One group went looking for baby chicks while my group returned to the mercado. It was lunch time and I was looking forward to eating at a new restaurant. We found a gathering of little restaurants in the Mercado. The open-air eatery had a nice, homey feel. The cooking area was visible from all the tables and it felt somehow comforting to just sit there, surrounded by pale yellow tiles, the various cooking instruments and the smell of tortillas.

I had 3 tacos dorados (fried tacos), a plate of frijoles (beans), a Coke and followed with a cup of coffee. It was a very satisfactory meal. Here is a cultural tip: When eating out in Mexico, it is customary for one person to pay for the entire meal. Occasionally in Nogales we will equally split the cost but usually one of us pays for everything. Restaurants in Mexico rarely split a bill so people can pay for their own meal separately. In this instance, we split the bill equally because we were all running low on money. Next on the agenda was a visit to Los Alamos. Miguel slept in the cargo area of the Isuzu during the 30 minute trip to Los Alamos.

Further South of the Border II: The Search for Trinidad

As I reviewed the pictures from our trip in preparation to write this post, I realized that there are a number of things to say to finish up the story of our first full day in Navojoa. My memory of the first day is foggy because of having gone without sleep for so long. I'll pick up the story starting with the end of our lunch under the tree.

After our lunch under the eyes of the stuffed wildlife, we went looking for Trinidad. He is another church member originally from the Navojoa area who was back home for a visit since Christmas. We arrived at his house to find him absent. As we waited to see if he would show up, we heard drums from down the street. We walked around the corner to find a group of children dressed as fariseos (I believe the word is Spanish for "Pharisee"). Fariseos are tribal dancers who perform traditional Sonoran dances and during Easter solicit donations to the Catholic church or so I'm told. I've tried to research this but can find very little information on it. They dance in the weeks leading up to La Semana Santa (Holy Week). As with many religious expressions in Mexico, it seems to be a blend of tribal religion and Christianity. They dress in home-made outfits of bed sheets, blankets and usually have a real fur head dress that serves as a mask. Around their waist and ankles are usually empty shot gun shells or beads to make noise and they carry noise makers in their hands. On the one hand, I find it interesting from a cultural standpoint. On the other hand, I find it kind of creepy due to the pagan origins and what I have told of the demonic involvement in these kind of dances. This fariseo is asking for money from the Mario.

I had previously encountered a group of fariseos in Nogales while working with Carlos in another neighborhood. In spite of the pagan origins of the dance, I was thoroughly entertained by the children dancing and imitating their elders. They were particularly cute because their costumes were child-like representations of the adult farisaos costumes. Their noise makers were plastic Coke bottles filled with rocks. Here is a video I took of them:

After the children danced, we all sat down and the pastor told them about Jesus Christ. We all joined in singing a song called “Jesus is my friend”. We then found one of Trinidad’s relatives who told us where he was. We set off for an area called Huatabampo. We found Trinidad stuccoing a building with two other men. Mario, the pastor’s father, is very good friends with Trinidad and he had really missed Trinidad since he left Nogales during Christmas. I have several times seen them walking together across the hilly terrain in our neighborhood, helping each other from stumbling on rocks and uneven surfaces. I think that this is beautiful picture of the kind of fellowship and brotherly love that Jesus always talks about. The reunion was sweet and they enjoyed visiting for a little while. In this photo, Trinidad is to the left, Mario to the right.

After my nap beneath the shade of a palm tree, we left for Juan Pablo’s neighborhood to look for turkeys and goats to take back with us to Nogales. I had known this event was coming and I was steeling myself to ride in a truck crammed with animals. If I am learning anything in Mexico, it is to be flexible and roll with whatever happens. This would really be a test.

While looking for said animals, we stopped by a small farm. There, two women where making whole wheat tortillas. As one woman mixed the dough and rolled it out into tortillas, another woman cooked them over a stove made from a 55-gallon drum.

In the true spirit of Mexican hospitality, we were offered a tortilla. They were more meaty than flour and corn tortillas and I really like the taste and texture. We chatted for a while about my experiences in Mexico. Again, the question that I always get was asked: “Do you really like Mexico?”. My answer is always: “What is there not to like?”. We thanked them for the tortillas and all piled into the truck, driving along a canal toward the next farm where we might find our animals. On the way, we passed a woman and her children washing their clothes in the canal.

We arrived at the farm and found lots of goats, chickens, horses and turkeys wandering through a field that for all the world reminded me of rural Virginia in the cool of a spring evening. I was so tired that I walked back to the truck to take a quick nap while everyone else was looking for just the right turkey. I awoke as Ramon, Carlos, Mario and Miguel got in the truck. I did not see, smell or hear a turkey. I was relieved.

This is the point in the previous post where we returned to Carlos’ mom’s house to eat tamales and sleep. The events of this post and the previous post about Navojoa all took place in one day, March 10, 2008. It was a very full day. Even now, I’m not sure how I stayed awake.

More snow (D'oh!) and learning to just be

Well, it snowed again this past Monday in Nogales. I want to share a couple pictures of the snow covered hills at sunrise.

We had a group from the University of Arizona with us this past week. The weather, which had been in the 80s for the past 2 weeks, turned very cold and it began to snow on their first day in Nogales. We were all surprised, especially me. I was convinced that the cold time was over in Nogales. But, just like springtime back home in the Old Dominion, it can snow unexpectedly here. The college students had not brought many warm clothes and we all shivered together. We "suffered" for two days at the most. Many people in the Colosio are cold all day and night for lack of warm clothes or decent walls to keep out the cold. It was good for us to share in their discomfort.


On Monday, the temperatures began to rise just a bit but it still snowed and hailed on and off all day. By Tuesday, the weather was back in the upper 60s and by Wednesday, it was in the 80s again. The plan for the week was work in the neighborhood, experiencing the culture and taking time to learn what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ.

I think what I enjoyed the most this week was the return to morning, afternoon and evening chapel services. As the only person at the Cuirim House, it is often difficult to maintain the Celtic rhythm of work, study and prayer. Sometimes Carlos shows up very early and needs help with his work. Sometimes I get side-tracked. The three times a day prayers and meditations are a wonderful way to refocus on God and get the focus off of me. It is what I enjoy most about the Cuirim House summer schedule. There is something really wonderful about worshiping God with other people who love him and are like-minded in wanting to be like Jesus.

Along with the group from U of A, two college students from Lynchburg, Virginia and one of their friends from New Jersey flew in to work for a few days. It was great to meet new people and to share with them the work in the Colosio. We mixed cement and poured part of a floor at the church, we put in a concrete barrier at a single mother's home so water won't run through her house when it rains and we replaced the roof on the home of a man who is a paraplegic. The college students worked closely with the men from the church who headed each project. I was in charge of one project with three students and at times it was difficult because I do not like being "in charge". I realize that it is part of my on-going character development to learn to be more flexible and to value people over any schedule or plan. With great patience, my Mexican friends are teaching me this lesson. When I came here, I thought I would be the one helping them. Instead, they are teaching me to be more like Jesus.

Further south of the border

Recently, I was invited to go with some men from the church to a town south of here called Navojoa. Navojoa is located about 8 hours south of the U.S.-Mexican border and minutes from the Gulf of California. The population is estimated at over 270,000 people in the greater Navojoa area. It is modern and clean, a huge change from Nogales.

The purpose of the trip was to visit with one of the men from our church, Juan Pablo, who had returned to his home town to start a church and minister to the poor there. As he begins his ministry there, he has been beset with several obstacles and he was a bit discouraged. We went to visit, encourage and strengthen him. I have been wanting to see more of Mexico and I was very excited to go. My traveling companions, from left to right, were Miguel, Mario, Juan Carlos and Ramon (the pastor). We crammed into Ramon's Isuzu Rodeo and prayed for no mechanical problems as we headed out.


The 7 1/2 hour drive started on Sunday after the Sunday service. The service ended about 5:30 p.m. In true Mexican fashion, we actually didn't get everyone in the car and on the road until about 9:30 p.m. We drove all night. I don't like driving all night, partly for safety reasons and partly because I want to see where I am driving especially if it is a new place for me. We took major highways and toll highways all the way there but still we made poor time. This was due in part to hitting an incredible amount of dense fog in and around a town called Guaymas. We creeped along at 20 mph for close to 45 minutes. The other reason was numerous stops for coffee and stretching of legs. Each time we stopped, I think we took longer and longer. As the sun rose, we were approaching Ciudad Obregón, a city about 45 minutes north of Navojoa. We arrived in Navojoa around 7:30 a.m. Our 7 1/2 hour drive actually took around 10 hours. We first stopped in to visit Carlos' family. They live in a small house in the urban part of Navojoa. They live right off of one of the main roads through the city and beside a river:


After visiting for a few minutes and freshening up, we went directly to the outskirts of the city where Juan Pablo lives with his wife and two children. Here is JP sitting with us outside his house:


We sat outside, under the shade of a small tree with chairs in a circle, drinking Fanta and Pepsi. We took time to relax and catch up on the latest news. As I looked around me, I realize how much the area reminds me of the Tidewater area of Virginia. I became a little homesick during the trip just because I could imagine myself driving to Virginia Beach on 460 East instead of being thousands of miles away from there. Frankly, I couldn't believe the abundance of water and green here. Having spent most of the last year in the high desert, the lush countryside was a real treat.


As we explored the area on foot, I noticed that many people use horses and carts to get around. They drove their carretitas (little carts) along the dirt roads as well as paved roads. Carretitas and motor vehicles amicably shared the road.


The folks here live a rural life. There were lots of horses, chickens and pigs everywhere. People often live in adobe houses. The feeling I got is what it must be like to live in Appalachia minus the Spanish language. The fields surrounding his house are filled with alfalfa and corn. There are mountains in the distance, partially obscured by humidity, reminding me of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Huge irrigation channels surround the neighborhood, providing an abundance of water for the crops.


One memorable visit was with a Christian lady (whose name I can't remember) who lives by herself now, her husband having died some years ago. She is 76 years old and has lived in the same house for over 40 years without plumbing or electircity. She told us many stories but one really struck me. She said they haven't had a Christian pastor in a long time, the area being overwhelmingly Mexican Catholic. (Catholicism in Mexico is very different than Catholicism in the U.S. and Europe but more on that another time). She said the last pastor would not visit someone to pray for them unless they paid for the prayer; the more serious the illness or problem, the more it would cost. I was disturbed by this and Mario, Carlos and I agreed with our hostess that God doesn't make you pay for his help. It is vitally important that people know that God is always available and wants to deliver us from our trouble. Here, some of the people now have the idea that God wants their money before He will help them. It is truly a shame. We left our new friend with a chorus of "Dios te bendiga"s (God bless you). Here she is along with a picture of her adobe brick house:


We had lunch out at an outdoor restaurant, situated beneath a huge tree. Festooned amongst the limbs of the tree were stuffed animals....real stuffed animals. Snakes, armadillos, possums and iguanas were among our friends as we ate. In this picture, you can see a stuffed raccoon on the branch to the right of the top center of the picture. It was a really interesting experience.



The day began to draw to a close and I realized that I hadn't slept in over 36 hours. When we got to Carlos' mom's house ready for bed, she had made us pork tamales. Lots of pork tamales. Although we had already eaten a late lunch, we obliged her and partook. They were delicious but I was so full that I was actually uncomfortable. The family gave up all of their beds for us and we all slept soundly until 6 a.m. the next morning.

There is still more to tell you about. I will try to do that in the next week or so. But first, because I just figured out how to add videos, here is a short of all of us crammed into the pastor's truck, heading into the city to sight-see and to look for livestock to take back with us to Nogales (more on this later). I was amused by how we must have looked, cramming in as many people as possible into the truck.

Moving into the 20th century

A lot of things have been going on here in the neighborhood. Believe it or not, the city is finally putting in sewer lines in the Colosio. I kept seeing trucks with huge pipes drive through the neighborhood but I wasn’t sure what they were. Then, I found where they were storing the pipes and equipment for the work.

It is hard to tell when the work will be finished. Public work projects like this seem to take a long time to complete here. For instance, the pipes in the picture have been sitting there for 2 weeks now and I haven’t seen anyone working in that time. However, when it is completed, it will mean a lot less contamination and pollution from poorly-made baños (bathrooms). Many (if not most) bathrooms in our neighborhood are outhouses. Some are barely standing with an old blanket or cloth of some kind as a door. Here is a picture of one of the better outhouses in the neighborhood:

When it rains, especially with the torrential rains during the summer, you can smell sewage as you walk down the street or dig into the wet earth. I don’t know how our neighbors will go about getting hooked into the sewer lines or even if they will be able to afford to. But this is certainly a step forward.

These things remind me of how blessed we are back in the U.S. Yes, there are still people living like this in the U.S. but not you or I. I appreciate little things now like a single electric heater to keep me warm (kind of) when it is in the 30s. I appreciate blankets, hot water and shoes without holes. I appreciate a solid front door to keep out rain and wind. I am paying more attention to the little blessings of God.

A typical Saturday morning in the Colosio

The ladies of the church are having a spiritual retreat at the Cuirim House this weekend. It started Friday night at 8 p.m. and is going until an hour before church starts on Sunday. I don’t know what all the husbands are going to do; the wives here seems to do most of the cooking. Not wanting to distract anyone at the Cuirim House and feeling a little odd, I beat feet to the McDonald's. Along the way to the McDonald’s to access Internet, I drove through the Saturday swap meet and thought I would share it with you.

One thing that I really like about living in Mexico is the constant moving and bustling of people. Informal commerce is everywhere. On Saturday mornings, cars and people start to gather early on Calle Abraham Zaied. On the sides of the street are vendors selling just about anything. Not only are used electronics, clothing and households items for sale, but there are also small stands selling tacos, burros, carnitas, carne asada, hot dogs and hamburgers. It is a place where you will run into your neighbors or get a good deal on something you need. The people browsing overflow into the street and traffic creeps along as drivers look at what's for sale without leaving their cars. It is very important to pay attention to driving, however, because children will often step into the street without thinking and in front of your car. The crowd reaches it peak between 10 a.m. and 1 p.m. and the street is almost impassable but nobody seems to mind.