Mexico 2011

In seventh grade, my day school, Solomon Schechter, began teaching us Spanish. On the first day of class we picked Spanish names. I was Julio. When 8th grade came around and we got deeper into the language, Julio could no longer cope, and removed himself from the class. In its stead he went back to being Nathan, and was placed in the class for kids with learning disabilities. In this class we learned practical lessons such as how to keep organized, but also in this class there was a couch, which I quickly learned was ideal for napping. And so it was that I never learned Spanish, and never learned to be organized, and am therefore a useless traveling companion in Mexico.

Nevertheless, Shula still agreed to accompany me here. The rest of the Newton Ehrlich family was going to Baja. The plan was to fly to the Northwest city of Chihuahua, and hop a train heading west deep into the Barrancas Del Cobres, the Copper Canyons, a series of Canyons that are deeper and more vast than the Grand Canyon. Eventually we would emerge in Los Mochis and ferry across the Sea of Cortez on the Western coast to the Baja Peninsula.

An illuminated cross looms above the city of Chihuahua

Before our departure I was warned not to come to Mexico because the narco-trafficontes, Mexican drug lords, were terrorizing the country. The warnings were enough to give me a few goosebumps but not sufficient to deter me from taking the trip. We arrived in Chihuahua on Christmas day which added some extra excitement to our trip: we couldn't change our American dollars to pesos and the streets were dead quiet adding an extra eeriness to the vigil of candles we witnessed to commemortate victims who were caught in crossfire. Also adding some spice, was that not a soul in the city, including the tourist office, could tell us, or Shula rather, any information on where the train station was and what time the next morning the second class train departed.


Fortunately we met a nice hotel employee named Erick who became our de-facto municipal guide. I was drawn to him right away due to his near-impeccable English. He grew up mostly in Texas but after getting into a fight at age 17, had his citizenship revoked and was promptly deported. He has not seen his mother now in 10 years he told me. Can you imagine the bliss?

Erick made some phone calls and found a few friends in need of American cash who traded their money with us and walked us out at night to show us some night life. We asked him about the hoopla over the safety of his city. He said someone was gunned down yesterday outside his house, but that as long as youre not in the drug business and not walking down quiet streets alone at night your ok. Sounded pretty on par with some of the shadier neighborhoods of Brooklyn, not quite comforting, but we would be in Chihuahua only one night.

One night became two nights when I came down with a fever. I survived on drugs, mostly tylenol, and the invigoration of the awe inspiring train ride through the beautiful mountains. It was a nine hour train ride to Barahuchivo, where we would hop a 3 hour mini school-bus, a similar design as the dangerous bus my underbudget start-up high school used to transport its sports teams, which would take us through a single lane unpaved road down a giant mountainside.

The switch from train to bus was stressful. The line formed quickly as people fought over the few seats a small bus built for little kids affords. As we pulled away we soon could see the town of Urique, lingering in a valley thousands of feet below us. The path ahead was ominous, and my fever was now accompanied by a cough and chest pain. So I did what I learned to do best long ago in grade school, I took a nap....