FABRICA SAN PEDRO

Here we are standing in front of Fabrica San Pedro, a two hundred year old company that is famous for hand-loomed and hand-dyed fabrics.

Inside: giant wrought iron machines were brought here by boat from Europe, then shipped over the mountains in pieces by train before being reassembled here. Many are dated from the 1800's. Can you see us on the left?

After the cotton is cleaned and carted and hand-dyed, its spun into thread and wrapped onto spools here.

Thread is then loaded onto these wooden hand-looms to make rugs, bed spreads, curtains or wall hangings. 

Here is one example of the beautiful finished product. 

TO GRANDMOTHER'S HOUSE WE GO

When invited to Grandmother’s house for dinner, the wise person will always say yes.  So it came to be last Saturday that we arrived at Lucy’s (our host here in Uruapan) parents’ house. In Mexico, dinner happens at 2pm when all the shops close and everyone goes home to eat and then rest. We were welcomed by Lucy’s four brothers and twenty cousins to a long table ensconced with Don Julio Anejo tequila, a mount of limes and a pile of salt for the tequila, different kinds of chips, soda and Mexican beer. 

Then the food arrived. We were served vats of roasted goat, baskets of hot tortillas, and bowls of green salsa, red salsa and fresh onion-cilantro salad. After the goat was eaten they brought out a roasted chicken and everyone started the meal all over again. After that, when we were surely stuffed to the gills, Grandma unveiled her famous cake with homemade lechita frosting which was a sticky icing that melted in the hot afternoon sun. 

Rosie was passed from auntie to auntie, cousin to cousin, and tasted her first goat meat.  Rowan made friends with the younger cousins and played for hours. He didn't understand Spanish and the cousins didn't understand English, but somehow they made it work. Travis and I ate and drank, and then ate and drank some more while visiting with the Familia. We didn't understand much Spanish and they didn't understand much English, but somehow we made it work.

Sharing a good meal is universal.

URUAPAN

We finally made it to Uruapan! We passed several police check points along the highway in Tierra Caliente, a dangerous desert-mountain settlement. But our bus rode through the check points with no trouble. Uruapan sits at 5,000 feet above sea level and is perfectly gorgeous with its 500+ year old churches, plazas, outdoor markets and streets busy with people. Our hosts, Nick and Lucy Jackson put us up in a room with a view of the city. Our room is on the top floor of their business, Jackson English School. Every afternoon the school is bustling with students who are here taking classes. The evening breeze cools off the heat of the day and everything gets quite around 9pm. This will be our home base for the rest of our trip and we love it. 

Godbrothers: Travis and Nick.

Did I mention Uruapan is the avocado capital of Mexico? Lucy's brother took us to his avocado farm to play with the goats, hold the baby lamb and learn about Mexican farm life. 

 

"TEMBLOR" IS SPANISH FOR EARTHQUAKE

The kids had just fallen asleep under their mosquito nets in bed when everything started shaking. At first it was so subtle that I thought perhaps a big truck was driving by. Then I heard the hostel owner (we stayed at Hostel Ricon Del Viajero) say, “el temblor” and suddenly everything started rocking back and forth violently. When it was over, Rowan’s mosquito net had fallen down on top of him and woken him up but other than that there was no damage. Rosie slept through the whole thing.  The next morning, the US government website reported a 5.2 earthquake. Turns out that Michoacán Province lies on a fault line and earthquakes are fairly common here. It certainly shook us up. 

First class bus: riding away from "el temblor" in style. Rowan and Rosie watch movies and eat treats. 

ZIHUATANEJO

The airplane dropped us right onto the tarmac in Zihuatanejo, which is Spanish for "uterus". It is said that this town is the uterus, or birth place, of the Mayan people. Thousands of years have passed since then and now Zihua is a fishing village with a booming tourism industry. The weather is in the 90's. The sky is blue. The ocean is warm and inviting. The coconuts are plenty.

We took a boat ride to Playa Las Gatas, a beach named after the Tiger Sharks that used to live in the lagoon here. There are 50 lb. pelicans with wing spans of up to six feet, who are constantly trolling the beaches for the fisherman's leftovers. Rowan saw one flying above and said, "Look Mom, it's a pterodactyl!"

Rosie has been doing a lot of eating, sweating and sleeping so far. She loves to eat fresh papaya, avocado, banana and young coconut meat. 

Rowan is in love with the beach. He spends hours everyday making sand angels, building moats, and running from the waves. This afternoon we leave this gorgeous place on a public bus, headed for Uruapan...

PACKING FOR MEXICO

The anticipation of leaving the country sent chills down my spine this morning when I came across an old scuba diving video of Travis and I. It was taken when we were living in Thailand in 2008. Since then we've had two beautiful kids, changed hundreds of diapers, washed hundreds of dishes, worked hundreds of overtime hours at both of our jobs, bought family-sized vehicles and gotten firmly rooted in our hundred year-old home I call the Little House. We're living the American Dream!

Yet I long for the open road. So much of who I am has been shaped by the years I've spent in other countries. I crave the smell of salty hot winds dangling beneath breathtaking sunsets. I cherish the days when all of my belongings fit into one backpack. I long for the sound of languages I don't understand, signs I can't read, mysterious food I can't identify... and how it all keeps me so full of the present moment. I want to be migrant again, with no laptop and no cell phone and no agendas and no deadlines. I miss the present moment.

Whether I will experience any of that again as a working mother of two seems unrealistic. But I'm convinced it's possible. I've seen droves of people from other countries backpacking with small children and they make it look easy. Like that French couple I met in a restaurant in Vietnam who had two very young daughters in tow. Or how about the South African mother I met in Thailand who sailed around Africa with her elementary-aged kids for an entire year. I'll never forget the Swiss women I met in an ashram in India, who were travelling as a group of mothers with their tween daughters. If the French, South-Africans, Swiss and all the countless Aussies, British, Germans and Kiwis I've met on the open road can travel with their kids, then maybe I can too.

Just watch me try.

- Katie

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