Sunday, Mar. 21 - Plane from LA to Phoenix. Another to Mexico City. Taxi to Tapo station. Bus to Xalapa. All connections smooth as silk. No rushing and no waiting. The bus is really incredible, with plush, roomy seats, airplane-style bathroom, no stops. Four and a half hours on a smooth, modern toll road, for just $24. You go through a security check, then as you board you are given a complimentary water or soda, and the makings for tea or coffee, hot water and cups available at the back of the bus. Movies and music, which I didn’t take advantage of.
We head east. To the south, great view of Iztaccihuatl and Popocatépetl, the magnificent snow-covered volcanoes, Popo recently active, part of the ring of mountains surrounding the Valley of Mexico. Between them, the Paseo de Cortes, where the conquistadors marched on their way to conquer Mexico in 1519.
Huge auto factories – VW, Mercedes Benz and others – surrounded by half-finished, half-decayed concrete towns where the worker live. Occasionally, far off in the midst of this concrete mishmash, the unmistakable towers of a colonial era church. Then miles of irrigated fields that could be in California’s San Joaquin Valley, except for the occasional horse-drawn wagons and (I think) plows. Some smaller farms, in the hills, with fields no more than 100 yards across, separated by rows of agave, source of pulque, the ancient beverage which was still the popular beverage of the Mexican peasantry as recently as 1950, now almost gone. After I discovered Mexico in 1991, and started making frequent trips to many parts, I tried to drink pulque every trip. Sometimes it was quite a project to find some. I wonder if I’ll come across any this trip.
Then it is dark. There’s a Wal-Mart. I’m in Xalapa, capital of the State of Veracruz and home of the Universidad Veracruzano, where my daughter has a faculty position. A two-dollar cab ride brings me to her apartment. It’s the first chance I’ve had to visit her in the three years she’s been here.
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