MeXscape

When My 18 year old son and I arrived in Mazatlan it was the height of the dry season, however the only thing dry was the jungle, we were both drenched, natures sauna cleaning your pores. The heat and humidly this time of year required any and all outdoor activities to be conducted only in areas where you were wafted by the constant ocean breezes or actually submersed in the water itself. We spent our time between the water, beach front cantinas and air conditioned comfort, it was in the beach front cantinas we replenished the liquids that continuously flowed from every inch of our skin.

Chuck and I actually had nowhere to be today. No getting up early to get dressed and drive across the county to be at either of our parents' houses for Christmas breakfast. I love our families. I love Christmas with our families. But sometimes all the schedules and obligations and rushing around feel a lot more like work than a holiday. So we lazed our way through the morning. I did a little work. I made a late brunch. Then we decided a nap would be divine. Out of habit, I stopped to check my email before crawling into bed.

Last month, the perpetually churning cogs of nature’s celestial time clock flipped the switch that propelled us into winter. It was as though the weather gods were timing their moves to correlate closely with the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. As the lunatic fringe that lives above 60 degrees north were experiencing over 20 hours of night, we here in Mazatlan were dragged, kicking and screaming, into the first days of this frigid season. As if somewhat precisely cued, on December 20th the sky became overcast and the daytime temperatures plunged into the mid seventies. Sporadic showers of 71 degree rain hounded the natives and drove the sun seekers to cover; winter was upon us.

When Martha told me she was returning to the village of the Bramador I immediately volunteered my truck and my time, for this was clearly going to be a high quality adventure. Not being real sure just what a Bramador was or did, added to my sense of participatory anxiety, which is requisite for any decent adventure. This impromptu trip would go from Mazatlan to San Ignacio for a late lunch and then on to the village of Tacuitapa, where we would spend the night out among the folks and experience the unique talents of the Bramador. I asked Martha about the accommodations and with a wave of her hand told me “The people in the village will take care of us. I’ll let them know we are coming.” In the face of her overwhelming confidence, I thought to myself “Well, this is certainly the easiest B&B I have ever booked.” Martha went on to elaborate about how this place is not on any tourist itinerary and that the people were ready to share some of their natural treasures. Well, so far this looked to be a trip as charmingly spontaneous and unpredictable as the woman herself.

When I volunteered my time to help Conrehabit expand their reality, I really had no idea what I was getting into, nor any clue as to where it would lead. Now, with more than 9 months into this relationship with nature, I am truly overwhelmed by the shear volume of encounter and adventure I have experienced in such a short time, everything from Bramadors to very big snakes.

Day 5 on the road. We're hot. We're tired. We're out of ice. We decide to stop at a Pemex to use the facilities and add some ice to the cooler. The facilities are no problem. They are easily accessible from outside, stocked with soap and toilet paper, and clean. Small favors.

I rolled into Mazatlan last May thinking about spending a few days before heading further south into Nayarit; my initially perceived, first real stop on the west coast of Mexico. Then after 3000 brutal miles, Mazatlan loomed before me like a palm studded sanctuary and besides; my 18 year old son had acquired the haunted look of a caged animal, time to take a break. At that point in my life, the last place I wanted to be was within the teeming mass of humanity that comprises metropolitan Mazatlan, so we kept our distance. We found a very pleasing little RV park on the beach in Cerritos, parked our travel trailer, rolled out the awning, broke out the lawn chairs and cold beer and declared ourselves camped. I didn’t realize at the time that just how long I would be camping. Never a long term planner, my conceptual strategy for retirement in Mexico had not progressed past the RV phase; would I ever want a house?

We made it here. I will start posting again soon. Pictures too. Look out for back posting as I fill in from where I left off.

New pictures are up here. Wait til you hear the story behind them.

Martha Armenta, the president and driving force behind Conrehabit, has initiated an unprecedented and incredibly bold outreach program to fundamentally transform certain cultural aspects of daily life in some of the more remote villages in the mountains of Sinaloa. Working proactively to educate the villagers, both young and old, to the virtues of living with nature as opposed to seeing the natural world as something that needs to be dominated, feared and exploited; she is making surprisingly quick progress.