11 August 2019
Hey folks
I’m in Pachuca Mexico, a city in the mountains of Hidalgo, northeast of Mexico City. I’ve met more friendly people and walked more of the earth since I last wrote.
After I sent the last email, I hung a bag of clothes tent food and water on one end of the cart handle, and carried the load on my shoulders for the first time this trip. I made it 2km. Drenched with sweat, I turned around, camped at a nearby river and got the handled fixed in town the following morning. Grateful. I am grateful to have a cart to carry my gear. God bless the wheel! Needless to say, I’ll be going with the cart from here on. Very happy to have this invention to accompany me on this journey.
I walked 15km up the steep mountain to Xilitla and was invited to stay at a land project near the Edward James Castle, a surreal artistic garden built by a European guy a while ago. It’s a big tourist attraction. The project I stayed at is called Portal. It’s next door to the garden. The land of Portal was purchased by a Mexican guy named Esteban. For four years, he and two other guys laid many tons of stonework throughout the property, including paths, steps, fence and kitchen. It’s now a pizza restaurant. Excellent stonework at a naturally beautiful place. There were two other backpackers staying there, French guy name Clem and a Swiss lady named Corin. Everyone spoke English. I worked in the garden a few days and helped out at the restaurant.
One evening a friend of Esteban’s called Salvador was hanging out at the restaurant. He spoke about how ancient cultures shared innovations. When one person figured something out, everyone benefitted. He said Egyptians had wireless electricity and lit their homes with no bulbs or wires. Thought-provoking. He also believed they had portals to other dimensions.
Far out, I thought. Like school? I blurted.
He looked confused. What? He asked.
Like when you learn something new and you see the world differently afterwards. It’s like walking through a portal, I said. He was talking about an actual portal, an ovular door into other dimensions. Either way, I enjoyed the conversation and appreciated his inspiration in thinking how school is like a portal.
After a week, I headed down the mountain and camped under a bridge near the base of the mountain. The next day I walked through Axtla de Terrazas, toured a colorful castle, and the following night I camped in an empty construction site. When I arrived at the construction site, two people Edgar and Bianca brought me tacos with avocado pulled pork and hot salsa for dinner. They invited me to breakfast in the morning and afterwards walked with me for a few hours. Good company.
A guy from a radio station called Antonio interviewed me the following morning in Tamasunchale. He posted the interview on fb and several cars pulled over to wish me well in the afternoon.
Met a guy from Honduras that afternoon called Dixon. In a perfect New York accent, he said he was deported from the US and he was trying to go back to be with his girl. He was selling gum for a bus ticket north. He said Honduras was poor. He didn’t mention violence. I imagine it’s not violent or like anything newspaper’s say. I imagine Honduras or Guatemala or other less developed places are just boring. Concrete buildings with rebar sticking out the roof, little shops selling cold soft drinks and potato chips and really just nothing to do. They see movies and think life in the US is like a music video with beautiful people dancing down the street. Of course, this guy has been there and knows what it’s like. But, generally speaking, I think what drives people to the US isn’t so much that there’s anything bad going on in their country, they’re just looking to have more fun. Good luck bro, I said. Good luck to you too man, he said. We parted ways.
Was offered a grilled chicken lunch from kind folks in a small town, then later met a friendly guy called Emanuel that afternoon as I arrived in Oritzlan. He said I could stay at his place. We walked around the town, got tortas, fresh baked bread with peppers and chicken. Tasty. We listened to Eminem on his phone, then heard Eminem again on the loudspeaker in the plaza. Emanuel and his buds love America. They said I was the first person from the US to visit their town. We drank cold beer and I tried to translate Creedence Clearwater Revival, another one of their favorites, as it played, at their request.
Emanuel was interested in my gear. I pulled the tent out of the bag to show him how it worked and the elastic on the tent poles snapped when I pulled the tent out of the bag. I later got a tarp. I now wrap the cart in a tarp and sleep between the cart handles. Emanuel accompanied me walking up the mountain in the morning. He had a really good attitude. I liked that.
The day before, I passed from the state of San Luis Potosí into Hidalgo. Hidalgo is mountainous. Mountain ranges all the way to the horizon. Beautiful countryside. I camped near a footpath that night and spoke with guys on their way to harvest corn in the morning. They were equipped with machetes and a small sack and greeted me with friendly smiles as I packed up gear.
Met ladies at the top of the hill selling honey propolis and aguardente, hard alcohol mixed with fruit juice. They gifted me a fruit juice. I walked up and up, resting frequently, stayed with a guy called Ricardo near Tlachinol, ate amazing gorditas prepared by his wife Cydi and had a hot shower with good water pressure. Tlachinol has been a mine for manganese, an unusually heavy rock, for the last 50 years. Ricardo and Cydi operate a restaurant. Truckers carrying manganese are their main customers. They have no electricity, though they have a generator outside about the size of a four wheeler. They use the generator to run a blender. Had good cafe de olla, real coffee, in the morning and walked on.
Lots of hills and long beautiful landscapes. Met a kind family one evening on the road in Lolotla. Ipolita, Miguel and Maria. They provided food water coins and a phone charger when mine had gone out. Grateful.
Camped alongside a stack of concrete blocks in Lolotla. Had an excellent egg sausage and cheese torta made by a lady the next day in Molango. Met a guy named Jose Luis in the morning. We had a great chat about the world and about how life is about perspective. He said, if Mexican people ever look south, they will have the glory.
He asked if I was married. I said I wasn’t.
He said, so you’re free.
I said, yes I guess so. Are you married? I asked.
He said he wasn’t.
I said, so you are free.
He said, yes I guess so.
I’m glad we met, I said.
I’m glad we met too, he said. We parted ways.
It’s colder now in the higher altitude. Folks gifted me warm clothes, including a red and white tracksuit. Feel like a member of the Chinese Olympic team. Feeling well equipped. Camped near a river in Malila the next evening. Excellent spot. Washed my clothes and had a chilly bath in the evening river.
Walked on, more hills, views for hundreds of kilometers it seemed. As I approached the town of Zacualtipan, a friendly guy named Miguel provided crispy apples and got me a hotel room in town. Big ups! I relaxed in the hotel room the following day.
I heard there was a cave dug out of a rock by a single guy in Zapcualtipan. On the way to see the cave, people said it was closed for renovations. It was further uphill and out of the way. So I turned back, got some groceries and headed on.
Walking through the next town, I noticed a glossy shine on the gravel roads. I looked closer and saw the ground was covered in obsidian rock, a beautiful black volcanic stone used for sculpting and other things. I picked up a few good sized pieces to weave onto the cart handles. I saw one stone about the size of a basketball on the side of the road. It was nice to see a large beautiful stone that hadn’t been mined.
Met cool people the same age as me in town. Rodolfo, his wife whose name escaped me, Ezmerelda and Allison, their 8-month old daughter. Cool people, good flow of conversation. They asked about Trump. We agreed, he’s the same as other politicians, just people surviving. Yes Trump’s not the greatest person. Not his fault. Current system encourages his behavior. I say fix the system, don’t blame the clown.
They asked how I support myself. I said the goal is to survive from the phone. I’m not there yet. Though I plan to support myself somehow with my cell phone and the internet.
Rodolfo and ladies gave me a bag of popcorn with chile sauce and chicharrón (a big pork rind) topped with avocado cheese lettuce tomato and hot sauce. I was so involved eating the first bite, a piece of avocado slid off and fell on the ground. It was embarrassing. Though I was thoroughly enjoying the snack. We linked on Face (Facebook) and I walked along. Finally had a nice downhill slope.
Saw someone running with a torch and passing it on to another runner. People said it was a catholic tradition. I didn’t understand what they meant. It was nice to see cultural action that involved running and a torch.
As I approached San Augustin, the next town, a group of guys drinking beer next to a soccer field asked me if I wanted one. I said that sounded good.
They pooled together cash and got another box of caguamas, liter bottles of beer. I introduced myself to the group. Good crew. Araña, Juan, Pedro, Ulysses, Jose Luis, Ignacio and Alejandro. So this guy Araña (spiderman, he called himself) liked my hat. He offered to trade hats. At first I said naw man. I love my hat. That afternoon I was telling myself how much I loved my hat. It was gifted to me by Waylon Treppendhal, owner of Treppendhals family-owned grocery store in Woodville Mississippi. He was a friendly man. Great hat. Araña kept bugging me about it. I drank enough beers and thought maybe it was a good time to practice non-attachment to things. So I gave him my hat. Now I have a Polo hat. I don’t like my new hat. I’m okay with this, I care not for material things. Big shoutout to Waylon Trippendhal. Your hat traveled far and was well-loved. Shop at your local family-owned grocer!
I stayed at Alejandro’s place after we finished the caguamas. His wife made us eggs and tortillas. I slept on the couch and left early in the morning. Alejandro provided chicken wings for lunch on the road. Walked on, had a big score just before nightfall, three friendly families drove by and offered tacos, pork pastels, gorditas water and candy. Great meal.
I had my typical shower that night, about 3liters of water, a washcloth and a bicarbonate (baking soda, also for washing clothes). I sit on my three legged camp stool, wet myself down, then scrub bicarbonate on all body parts and crevices, then rinse off 2-3 times. Each time I wring out the washcloth, I watch thick grey salty water drip onto the ground. Ah, my old self. Bicarbonate is the part of soap that does the cleaning. No film, it just wicks oil and salt from every part of my body. I feel like a new person after each shower. Technically I am.
I packed up and walked about 15km in the morning. I stopped at a place to refill water where I met Querim and Robert. They made me lunch and invited me to stay the night. I accepted. Querim, or Q, spent many years as a chef in Manhattan and Robert started a fruit distribution company after many years in Gainesville Florida. Both had been deported because of paperwork issues. Robert said people often gave him the “you took our jobs!” line in Florida, and each time he promptly responded, in English, I own a company, I create jobs. Here’s my card, you can stop by for an interview if you’re interested.
Q grilled salmon and vegetables in the leaves of a maguey plant for dinner. Excellent flavor.
The next day we visited local greenhouses where Q gets tomatoes for his restaurant. We visited two farms. One applied cow manure to the soil, uncertified organic, the other applied chemical fertilizers. A crate of tomatoes, about 18kg, sells for 5 bucks locally and 25 bucks to the US and travels as far as Boston. The tomatoes are sorted when picked. They have ripe red ones, to sell locally, and unripe green ones, to sell to the US. By the time the green ones arrive in the US supermarkets, they’ll be red.
We were visiting with a farmer from Michoacan who felt confident in his philosophy of earning high prices for vegetables, whatever the means. When we visited the organic farm, he rubbed his hands together and spoke as if he was informing the organic guys about finances for the first time. Organic guys kindly listened, for almost an hour. I liked the organic farmers. They were old school, polite. They let others speak.
We picked up a mariachi band in town on the way back to the restaurant. It started to rain when we reached the plaza. Six guys, aged about 12 to 60, instruments in hand, and I sat in the back of a truck while the afternoon rain fell on us. As the rain let up, we arrived at the restaurant. Q grilled pork on a spit, allowing the juices to drip into a wok of vegetables resting on burning logs. A group of Q’s friends and I drank vodka, feasted on the pork and enjoyed the mariachi band. The band also enjoyed the pork and drinks.
Later that evening, Q, Robert and another farmer and I discussed the possibility of drying tomatoes in the sun and selling them. Some of the crew liked the idea of selling them to the US. Q proposed the idea of selling them to local restaurants. You can’t find sun-dried tomatoes anywhere here, he said. Chefs would buy them. I voiced my agreement with Q.
The next morning we drank coffee and ate the rest of the pork with eggs, salsa and tortillas. Before I left, I said my farewells to Q’s godmother across the street, a wonderful lady who offered warm blessings. Dios te acompañe en su viaje, she said and gifted me a necklace. She provided Q a green menthol-tasting alcohol and Robert, Q, and the other farmer and I drank to our health, salud!, and I was on my way.
I walked 11km to the next town, Atotonilco, and stopped for a rest and a carbonated fruit drink. When I walked out of the store, I met Diana and Adelit. They said they had been following me on Facebook and wondered when I was going to pass by. A large family then arrived in a Tahoe and about fifteen people emerged from the vehicle. Omar, Sonya and family provided drinks and snacks, took pics and offered good wishes for the journey. When they left, Diana offered lunch. I ate lunch. Then she offered to take me on a tour of Atotonilco. I said, oh okay let’s do it. We took a minivan into the town with her daughter Maria. We walked through the market, the town square, the church. She gave me a bracelet. We had it blessed by a pastor. I’m well adorned with catholic jewelry now. I’m not catholic, though I like Jesus. We got a large piece of freshly fried chicharrón and other items, headed back, and ate a great dinner.
After dinner, Adelit, her husband said he had to get to work. He processed chickens behind the house. In a well-practiced manner, he pulled chickens from a crate, slit their throats, dropped them in boiling water for a few seconds then put them in a spinning basin with rubber fingers which pulled most of the feathers from the bird in seconds. He plucked the rest of the feathers by hand and set the chickens in a tub of water to sell the following morning at the market. He said he could process about 250 chickens in one night, 25 crates. I liked Adelit. Really cool guy, comfortable with himself, didn’t need to impress anyone. Diana and her daughters, Maria, Paloma and Jaime, weaved my hair and we chatted until late. Cool fam. Diana and Ricardo from Tlachinol are cousins. Small world.
In the morning, the girls filled my food sack to the brim with vegetables and spices, even filled my salt shaker! Their cousins stopped by from next door, three little girls, to say farewell. We offered saludos and I was on my way.
Camped alongside a large rock above the town of Omitlan. Lots of people offered food the next day. Tamales, cheese, tortillas, chips and drinks filled the cart. Ate pastes, baked dough filled with meat and vegetables en Mineral del Monte. The town is home to a silver mine. Miners used to bring baked pastes to work in the mine. There was a cute lady named Carmen working at the pastes shop. She had a great smile as she cleaned tables. She hardly noticed me. I liked that.
Talked with a family from nearby while eating. They asked about my goals. I said my philosophy is that money comes from the earth. It also comes from a city. Though originally money comes from the earth. We need a school program that puts farming first. And then if you want to take a chance to earn more bucks in a city, that’s fine. Cities should be second to farms. There was silence in the room after I shared this. Then slow nods of approval. After being asked these kinds of questions for a few months now, I feel I’m getting closer to figuring out what I’m about.
Heavy rains fell that afternoon. A nice lady gifted me cheese and tortillas while I took cover outside her shop. Went to a bar while more rain fell. For awhile in the bar, it was only me and two girls who were making out with each other. Cool.
Mineral del Monte is a great little town, easy to walk through, lots of vendors, cobblestone streets. Beautiful silver jewelry. I camped in a field outside the city. It was a long cold night after the rain.
I cruised into Pachuca and had an uneventful pass through. Opted out of buying new shoes though I needed them. Couldn’t bring myself to spend 60 bucks on shoes yet. Gonna push it a little more, see if I can make it to the next town before forking over the precious funds. Headed to Puebla Mexico.
Here’s the trip log through San Luis Potosí, the trip log through most of Hidalgo and trip totals since the start.
In total, I walked 2218 miles (3569 kilometers) in 306 days. And spent an average of 14 dollars per day.
My expenses dropped from 17 dollars a day in the first six months, to 10 a day through San Luis Potosí, down to 4 dollars a day in Hidalgo. I got less than a thousand bucks left, exploring options to earn cash.
Okay. That’s the story up to now. I’ll send another email soon to share some of the big picture ideas I’ve been thinking.
Thanks for reading.
Peace
Brian