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| Santa in San Agustín - Photo by Jon Ellis |
Consider this a sort of epilogue because, to our nine months spent in San Agustín, our return there this last December of 2023 was just that - an opportunity not only to reconnect with the people and the place, but to discover whether it still held the same thrall over us.
Let me back up a bit first. Many of you have spoken to or seen us since our return on June 1st of 2023, but I still want to recap briefly our re-entry into the culture of the U.S. and our home here. It was both wonderful and difficult. After a journey from San Agustín to Portland somewhat fraught with traffic and airline delays, we finally arrived back in our beautiful house at about 3:00 in the morning. The poor kitty had been in her carrier for 21 hours but she's a trooper of the highest order. She was a little confused at first to be back in the house that I'm sure she thought we'd left behind permanently, but she settled in quickly. To us, it was like Shangri-la with hot water on demand, water pressure, heat or AC as needed, dishwasher, washer and dryer, and all the modern comforts. Our renters had left it in good shape for our return and, once we sort of got it re-organized to how we like it, we were really happy to be here.
All this doesn't negate the fact that leaving San Agustín was excruciating. If it weren't for the fact that we had kind of had it with our house there and all the problems that went with it, we would have been even more loathe to leave. Let's just say I sobbed on the plane as we left Mexico.
At least, I had the visit of my mom, my kid, and his girlfriend to look forward to later in June, and reconnecting with my cousins, aunt, and friends made it all that much better. Yet, how we missed walking down the street and receiving a friendly Buenos dias or Buenas tardes from everyone we met. We missed the marketplace and the kind vendors there, all the little stores we love and, of course, the food. Shortly after returning, I bought a comal (tortilla griddle) and a tortilla press so I could make my own corn tortillas, and I'm proud to say I've pretty much mastered it. That helps. Plus, I learned how to make a few of the local specialties.
However, as the year wore on, the longing for our sweet town remained strong. We started to talk about going back though it seemed a great expense and a long distance. Finally, around October, we made the decision. We would go for a week in December, rolling it into our Christmas visit to Tucson. Yes, it would be expensive, but we mitigated that a bit by booking tickets from Tijuana to Mexico City, and driving all the rest of the way within the U.S.
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| Southern Oregon |
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| Mountain Fog in S. Oregon |
And so, on December 7, leaving Lupita the cat with a housesitter friend, we set off in the Prius, bound for San Diego, equipped with a Songs to Sing Out Loud in the Car playlist that I'd made, and lots of other music and activities for the road. Jon drove the whole way, as he likes to do, and we made it to my sister's house in San Diego after three days and two nights on the road.
Seeing Susan and my brother-in-law, John, there was great since they wouldn't be coming over to Tucson for Christmas. We had at least an evening and morning of holiday time with them, and we'd get another on the way back. They took us to Tijuana and we boarded our flight with no problems. One of the most exciting things for us about this trip was that my brother, Josh, was flying in from Singapore, where he lives with his wife, Ruth, to meet us in Mexico City. He had wanted so badly to come visit us while we were living in San Agustín but didn't get the chance. He was determined to make it happen this time, even though it was just going to be for a few days.
We finally tracked him down in the Mexico City airport but he had a baggage delay, so we went on to a hotel near the airport and he came later. The next morning, we hired an Uber to take us to Pachuca where I'd rented a car. Or so I'd thought. When we arrived at the Hertz rental car office, the gentleman there informed me they had no car for us. They had a reservation but no car. This was straight out of a Seinfeld episode. I found myself repeating practically the same words that Jerry Seinfeld so famously spoke, "...but...the word "reservation" means that you reserve the car for us!" Nope. Wasn't going to happen. So the guy called us a taxi, which arrived with a broken trunk lock and nowhere to put our luggage. Dismissing the driver, we finally flagged down a cab on the side of the muddy road that delivered us to the town of Bocamiño, just about 5 minutes outside of San Agustín. My dear friend Anna had arranged to lend us her house there, while she and her family would stay at her mom's, and they met us with tamales for our lunch. Seeing her, her mom, and baby was a moment of sheer joy. They soon left us to settle in and, later in the day, we took a combi (since we had no rental car) into San Agustín to give Josh a tour. It was like we had never left. Some of the townspeople I've been in touch with on Facebook, knew we were coming. Most did not and, when we stopped in to say hello, they exclaimed, "It's a miracle!" We got warm greetings and hugs, and all were excited to meet Josh, another tall, red-headed, light-eyed anomaly. We stopped by to see our old neighbors, who informed us our house has been sitting there pretty much exactly the way we left it. We'd offered to keep renting it for a lower price so we'd have a place to come back to, but our landlord had stubbornly declared, "It's worth more than that price!" Duh, because of us it's worth more than that. He also maintained he was going to sell it, and we'd briefly entertained buying it, but he could never get it together to get an appraisal. It's a good thing. We were done dealing with him. And so there it sits, becoming a victim of entropy like it had before we moved in and fixed it up.
Later, we met Arlo and two of the Peace Corps workers, who have taken over for me at UPFIM, at Los Volcanes for the world's best tacos. (I've changed some of the aliases in this blog because I'm writing a memoir and I ended up choosing names closer to the real ones. Arlo is our young friend who runs the Gordita festival and took us to many baptisms and parties when we were here before). I knew one of the Peace Corps people quite well since she used to work at UPFIM's sister university, and we'd met and collaborated on several occasions. The other guy is new. Anyway, we had a raucous time, the six of us, eating and eating until we were stuffed. Upon hearing we couldn't rent a car, Arlo offered us his for the next day since his boyfriend was coming into town and he also has one. This was a huge relief since we wanted to go to a couple of far-flung places that day. And so we took Arlo home and returned to Bocamiño with the car.
The next day, which was a Tuesday, we drove to a nearby town at the base of the hills to visit my indigenous friends Gabriela and Antonio at their modest home. She and I have been continuously in touch via Whatsapp since we left. I consider her not only my dear friend but also my tortilla coach. As such, she gifted me a better comal than the one I have, as well as a huge straw sun hat for Jon. I wish she wouldn't give us gifts. I brought some small things for her but they can't afford to buy us stuff. Jon graciously accepted the hat (identical to one she'd given me before we left), but we left it at Anna's house because we'd brought limited luggage. Gabriela tried to give one to Josh but I had to explain to her that he couldn't bring it back to Singapore. She doesn't understand things like suitcases and air travel and Singapore so she was a little sad about it. Promising to come back on Thursday for dinner, we went into Tepa for more exploring, and to enjoy the sight of little children dressed as 17th-century peasants coming and going from the church in celebration of the Feast of the Virgen of Guadalupe. Josh tried his first gorditas at the marketplace/food court and declared them excellent.
After a siesta at home, which we all needed, we headed out to a hot springs called Te Pathé, on the road between Actopan and Ixmiquilpan. Sadly, it was a cold day - the kind we had almost the whole time we were in Tepa this time around and, so, though the water was nice and warm (not warm enough for Jon), the air was chilly, and we didn't linger there long. Instead, we headed back to Actopan to eat at El Itacate, our favorite spot for local and indigenous fare. It's a lovely little restaurant with outrageously good food and impeccable service. Josh was so impressed he declared it merited a Michelin Star! We returned Arlo's car to him when we got back to Tepa, resigned to deal with transportation for the rest of the week by combi and on foot like we were used to when we lived there, with the occasional taxi thrown in when we needed it.
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| In The Mural Place |
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| Guys Sitting |
Wednesday morning we did hire a taxi to take us to the Mural Place, which we'd visited last spring. Josh was in photographer's heaven, snapping shots like a maniac. Of course, they all turned out fantastic. We then had lunch at a little spot called Meraki, and treated Josh to the best tacos dorados around. That afternoon we visited the university where I was supposed to meet Rico, my former supervisor, but he wasn't around. We finished the day with dinner at La Bottega, that one really nice restaurant in Tepa, determined for Josh to experience it for the good food, beautiful atmosphere, art, and architecture.
He left early Thursday morning for the Mexico City airport in a taxi driven by our favorite taxista, Jesús, the guy who had given us such a remarkable tour of the mountains and rock formations around Actopan just before we left last year. Thursday afternoon, we hired a cab to take us back to Gabriela and Antonio's house. They had prepared a barbacoa for us, chicken, pork, and nopales buried in a pit in the ground lined with maguey leaves for an incredible flavor. It's a huge honor for someone to prepare a barbacoa for you in this region and, while, again, I wished they hadn't gone to the expense, it was a really special experience, eating the meat with fresh tortillas, right out of the pit. It was chilly out, so we went into the house after that and sat around eating a huge cake she'd bought, and chatting. We'd asked our driver to come back at 5:00, but he never showed up, so Antonio called a taxi driver friend of theirs who came around 6:00 to take us back to Anna's.
Friday we met up with Rico, my former supervisor at UPFIM, Cristina, and a couple of other folks from the school for lunch, again at Meraki, where I had truly the best chilaquiles ever. Rico was the same Rico, though in his informal mode, which is great fun. I wish I could have spent more time with Cristina because she is one of my favorite people, but she's so busy with her PhD-ness it's hard to pin her down.
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| Gorditas (above) & Pulque Vendor |
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| Festival Candy |
Saturday was the day everyone in San Agustín had been waiting for, El Festival de la Gordita. It was just as epic as it was last year: the vendors, the artisanal products, the music and dance performances, and the food! For the first time I tried a gordita with a kind of mushroom which is the fungus that grows on unharvested corn. It's earthy and a little unusual but it grew on me (no pun intended). We ate our gorditas on a bench in the plaza since there was no room at the tables set up along the main street. After a day of wandering around, watching performances, and running into friends, we finally had a burger at the Casa Azul hotel and called it a night. 
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| Traditional Dancers |
Sunday was a day of pure confusion. After greeting Gabriela and Antonio and hanging out with them a bit where they sell things at the tianguis (weekly street market), we went to meet our neighbors for lunch, but the place we'd decided on (Meraki again), was closed, though they'd said they'd be open. Trying to communicate with bad cell service, we finally understood that they wanted us to go with them to Ixmiquilpan for seafood. Really? Seafood in the middle of the desert? Besides, I was too hungry to endure the hour-and-a-half drive there and, anyway, it just wasn't in the plan. We had other things to do that day. Arlo had texted me, wanting us to come to his sister's birthday party and eat, but I'd already told him we had plans with our neighbors. Jon and I finally ate huaraches in the tianguis, then headed home to get our stuff organized for our departure the next day. Then, we heard from our neighbor again and it sounded like they wanted to have us come over to eat around 5:00. So we headed to their house, only to find that was not at all their intention. We gave them some gifts we had brought and chatted a bit, then left, wondering what we were going to do for dinner since we needed to eat something before Anna's posada at 7:00. Arlo texted again, telling us to come over for dessert. We did but, thankfully, his lovely mother heated us up some chicken mole from the birthday party, and we spent a wonderful hour with them, eating and catching up some more. He drove us to Anna's at seven, and we enjoyed our second year in a row of posada with them, which, if you recall, is a recreation of Mary and Joseph being turned away until they are finally offered refuge, complete with posole and tamales. It's a meaningful tradition which always moves me to tears.
To sum up, one week was far too little in San Agustín, especially because it's hard to wrangle people into such a limited schedule for getting together. I particularly regret not getting to see any of the teachers at UPFIM during our week there but they were out of school and had gone their separate ways. Anyway, Monday morning, Jesús picked us up at 9:30 for the three-hour drive to Puebla. Yes, I know, it was a splurge to take a taxi but we just couldn't face the bus, and remember, we had saved money by not renting a car, which we would have returned to Pachuca today.
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| El Popo and Iztaccíhuatl, the Sleeping Woman |
The drive was delightful, the scenery spectacular, and Jesús is just the best. I was particularly grateful that the weather was clear because we drove right past the two volcanoes, Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl, iconic symbols of México. El Popo, as they call it, was smoking - always threatening to erupt or at least cause an earthquake.
We got to Puebla with no problem but, once in the heart of the city, Jesús's car was sideswiped by a delivery van. When he got out to assess the damage, the other driver apparently told him he had a gun so Jesús didn't press him for insurance info. The damage wasn't too bad, but we felt really awful about it since his taxi was brand new. When we got to the hotel, we tipped him generously but felt we couldn't make up for what he'd have to pay to get his taxi fixed.
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| Enchiladas and Puebla Tunnel (right) |
Once in the hotel, an elegant boutique inn in the heart of Puebla's historic district, we settled in for lunch at the restaurant as we were too early for check-in. We were stunned by not only how beautiful the interior of the hotel and restaurant were, but how great the food was. Definitely not your usual hotel restaurant fare. We each ordered a plate of enchiladas with three sauces, green, red, and mole. The sauces weren't exactly traditional, rather an upscale version of each and mind-blowingly good. Shortly after we finished lunch, the room was ready. We walked in to find a warm, inviting space - even sexy if you want to know the truth in the classiest possible way, with high ceilings, subtle chandeliers that kept the light low, a king-sized bed, and...a bathtub in the room! The bathroom had a rain shower and a heated floor. Oh my god, we so needed to be warm after a week of cold indoors and out. Later that day, we wandered to the Zócalo, as the center of the historic district is called in every major city, and saw the cathedral and the beautiful park next to it. We were determined to find the arts district but weren't able to pinpoint it before we got distracted by a nice restaurant where we had a version of Puebla's famous sandwiches: cemitas - various fillings on a crunchy bun. After that, we witnessed a Christmas light show on the side of one of the buildings in the Zócalo, then went back to the hotel for a delicious sleep. The next morning, after a sumptuous breakfast at the hotel, we were determined to find the parts of the city we had missed the night before so, like good tourists, we we hopped on a tour bus of old neighborhoods. We saw all that we had missed the night before, and got a good dose of the history of Puebla - even walked through an underground tunnel that the Mexicans used to defeat the French in the battle of Cinco de Mayo. We had lunch at a marketplace because we wanted to try the more traditional mole. It was good, but, honestly, not as good as the hotel's. Later, after a rest, we went out and explored those same neighborhoods again, this time on foot, and bought some artisanal products in various street markets around town. We finished our day with more cemitas, this time at a more down-to-earth joint.
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| Zócalo Park & Sights Around Puebla |
On our last day in Puebla, we toured the Museo Amparo (museum of refuge) and saw the most amazing collection of pre-Columbian and modern art, all in the same building. It was one of our favorite things about Puebla, which, apparently, has tons of great museums. We'll have to save them for another trip, but if you're looking for a destination in Mexico, Puebla should be high on your list. Maybe just one down from Oaxaca.
After one run-in with a dishonest Uber driver, we finally found another to take us to Mexico City. It was a beautiful drive through mountains on a winding road while listening to the driver's choice of classic rock - somehow fitting.
When we hit Mexico City, we ground to a halt in the general traffic jam that rules that city at most hours of the day, especially during the holiday season, and were in it for an hour and a half before we finally reached the Air B and B that a friend (Daiset) had let us use for free in the extremely hip Roma Norte section of town. Once we regrouped, we caught another Uber to meet Cecilia at a Sushi restaurant in a part of town about half an hour away. Seeing her and just chatting the evening away was the best.
(The five photos in this section are at the Museo Amparo.)
The next morning, after a walk around that gorgeous neighborhood, we caught an Uber to the airport. The flight was uneventful and Susan and my brother-in-law met us in Tijuana right on time. We had another fun evening with them, then set out for Tucson in the Prius fairly early the next morning. It was raining, and the GPS led us an odd way, which took more time, but probably had us avoiding the mountain pass between San Diego and Tucson. About 3 hours from Tucson, the rain increased to the point of a deluge, the road and surrounding desert flooding, and lightning and thunder crashing all around. I looked on the map for a place to pull off and saw what might have been a town about three miles from us. It turned out to be a truck stop. We pulled in and made a run for the door. As soon as we entered, soaking wet, the lights went out. People were milling around wondering what to do as water seeped in under the door. Finally, the employees announced they had to close and, so, after begging a bottle of water from them (as there was no way to pay) Jon and I resolved to possibly spending the night in the car. Yet, about 20 minutes later, the rain let up enough to allow us continue on. We cranked the Songs to Sing Out Loud in the Car playlist at full volume and sang like two idiots until we got to my mom's house. The seven-hour trip ended up being eleven and a half.
My story ends with the five blissful days we spent at my mom's in Tucson (photo left) with Josh, Ruth, Ruth's mom Janet, my nephew Tristan, and Jon, all of us in perfect harmony: taking long desert walks, cooking, and enjoying ourselves every minute. Yes, we still had a three-day journey back to Portland, but it was easy and even fun. (Photos below - Central CA.)
The question remains: does San Agustín still have the hold on us that it did? I'm afraid so. I wished to God I hadn't had to leave all those dear people behind again. We realized that, if we go again, it will have to be for a longer time, and we'd need a place to stay more suited to our spoiled American sensibilities. Besides, we can't kick Anna and her family out of their house for so long. That is our next challenge but it's a ways off. All in all, it's nice to be home again.
