Wheelbarrow load after wheelbarrow load we mixed the concrete by hand. If there really is a hell, it probably utilizes the scenario of waking up with a crippling hangover to work concrete by hand under the hot Mexican sun surrounded by light reflecting white washed trees and walls with mariachi music blaring. You know, just to keep things interesting.
As I shoveled and pushed and turned and shoveled and pushed over and over again I became curious as to whether I would puke or shit myself first. I looked over at Julian stating something to that effect, and the ensuing dialog went like this:
“Ya know, I actually feel pretty good.”
“Still drunk huh?”
But we finished. At least the labor intensive parts. And after a terrible excuse for a siesta in the afternoon heat I found it was really starting to look like something. What exactly I don't know, but certainly something. It was conveyed that the place was to be mine when ever wanted for as long as I wanted. I intend to do some writing there when the time comes.
I had spent about a month and a half in that little bay, and everyone genuinely felt like family, so it was a weird feeling as we stood around the rocket stove that wasn't there a week ago, watching the pot full of chicken parts simmer and wait for the trucker to show up. I wanted so desperately to go, and I hated to leave them all behind. It felt solemn. An enormous amount had transpired in a month and a half. It didn't help that little Jessica was pawing at my ankles for attention or chicken, which ever came first. I walked over to the rocks on the beach behind my future bachelor pad to watch the sun set for the last time. I can't lie, I've got a bit more than a crush on the Sea of Cortes. As I leaned against the tree sipping a cup of tepid coffee we said our goodbyes. The sun dipped down over the edge of the mountains to hit the few wisps of clouds hanging over the peaks. Glowing embers flared a brilliant orange to red to blazing purple in the center of the floating unearthly coals with hints of flame dancing around the edges and the light fading over the water. She wasn't showing off. This wasn't her glorious welcome she met me with. This was a kiss on the cheek and a gentle whisper in my ear that we would see each other again. She was beautiful. I put my camera back in my pocket. Some things are too intimate for pictures.
When the trucker arrived it was hand shakes and hugs all around before we climbed into the cab. I hugged little Jessica one last time and she tried to bite my nose. Bitch. I didn't want to leave her there, but it wouldn't be fair to her to come along. With the risks I'll be taking there's no way I can justify her company. And that's one of the hardest clauses in the deal you make with the Road. You have to be ready and willing to say goodbye to anything and anyone. The Road will not be superseded.
We burned up 300 Klicks of desert highway before stopping the first night. The next morning we hit the Road just before dawn, and as we rolled on I watched the misty valleys fill with light and warmth and life. We took a break at the Tropic of Cancer where I found some strange yellow squash and a bizarre kind of iguana I briefly considered eating. The flora was changing drastically. The scrub desert morphed into irrigated fields planted with corn, mango, oranges, chilli peppers, cucumber, and a few varieties I couldn't place. The “Highway” in many places more closely resembled a jeep trail, and scattered here and there were the burned out carcasses of trucks left to rust by the Road. We blew through many of the large cities you would probably like to hear about, but I'm not here to hang out in tourist towns, and big cities get messy for a hitchhiker. So no time was wasted. We arrived in Mexico City last night and immediately jumped on a bus to get out of town.
We are now in Puebla, the capitol city of the state by the same name. So far it seems like a nice enough place. Very clean. I wanted to do a better job on the update, but I'm just too damn short on time. I'll do better I promise.