![]() ![]() One thing I learned in Mexico is that pineapple plants are really, really sharp. This wouldn’t have been so terrifying (despite that fact that I was sure we were going to flip), but I was in the front passenger seat with Camila on my lap, and of course the window doesn’t work and was stuck completely open. One evening on our way back from the land, the little Combi couldn’t quite make it up the big hill on the land and instead slid halfway down the hill sideways into the pineapple field. Notice the rope.It was in the Combi that we had some of the most excitement of the trip. Where all the family and stuff was piled in the back, there was no tailgate, so the sides were simply held together by rope. My favorite jalopy was loving referred to as the “Combi” because it was two different colors, the cab from one truck and the bed from another. We routinely crammed 12 or more people into the farm trucks, along with a mountain of stuff, to drive on the bumpy dirt roads to the arroyo (little river) or even to a neighboring town. Urban Dictionary definition of ‘jalopy’: an old, beat up piece of sh** car/truck ( ). ![]() The true adventures were about to begin.Īlmost all subsequent vehicles we rode in could be categorized as jalopies. So no air conditioning and 105, 110 degrees. Everyone I met in all of Mexico I think was somehow related to my husband. Another side note: the taxi driver was a primo (cousin). The AC’s not working and it costs too much to fix it.” And that was that. Mi suegra (mother-in-law) called a taxi one day that advertised having AC as a way of being nice to me really (gracias!!!). With this easing in, it was less surprising for me to find that almost no vehicles we encountered had air conditioning. Wasn’t what I envisioned, but hey, life rarely is. What would I wear? What would I say? Now imagine how I felt to arrive in Casas Viejas for this great moment dripping with sweat, prying the sweat-soaked skirt from my legs, and patting down my tornado-swept hair in an attempt to look at all presentable. I had imagined this moment in my mind a LOT as we planned this trip. I was about to meet my in-laws for the very first time and experience the lovely reunion I wrote about last week. Let me just expose my vanity here for a second. Like clockwork, he would roll the window down more when he slowed for towns, construction, extended periods of potholes, and quickly rolled it back up (mid-sentence, by the way) when he hit the gas. I received a crash course in how to effectively use windows when you’re dying of heat and need air but the car is driving too fast to tolerate the tornado on your face if you keep the window too open. Gabi had clearly made this trip a thousand times, because he knew exactly when to swerve, slow down, and practically drive on the shoulder to avoid insanely deep holes. The downside – we arrived at 12:25 pm, in the midday sun, in 100 degree heat, and the car had no air conditioning! For two hours, we drove on a highway filled with pothole after pothole. I had plenty of room to put in the car seat that we dragged through airports all the way to Mexico and have Camila sit in luxurious safety. Luckily the airport was tiny! Gabi has a small car similar to what you would expect in the States but maybe smaller. Side note: Neither Jorge or I had ever met Gabriel or really talked to him, so we had to pull up a photo of him on the phone to make sure we didn’t run up to the wrong guy in the airport’s arrivals area. The fabulously generous Gabriel (our brother-in-law) picked us up from the airport. With a baby in tow, driving (or really riding – nice to have chauffeurs!) in Mexico challenged my adventurous spirit.Īs it turns out, our initial ride once we reached Veracruz was a nice easing in, you might say. Driving in foreign countries is always an adventure. This week I thought I’d share a more comical take on the cultural immersion experience. Last week’s post looked at the serious side of our trip to Mexico, an emotional and heartwarming reunion. ![]()
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