Which way to Etzatlan?

March 21, 2012
Our aversion to driving in or around Guadalajara began the day in 2010 when we were trying to skirt around the city as we drove north to south. Our GPS guided us into the heart of the metropolis, spouted a few nonsense instructions, and then blithely announced, "No data is available for your current location."

This year we poked our nose into Guadalajara to buy building supplies at Home Depot. The navigator (me) missed a crucial turn and we spent the next 45 minutes trying to find our way back to the key junction.  Round and round we went.  The GPS would count down the kilometres and we'd be really close, possibly even in sight of that huge Home Depot sign.  Then, Jim would chicken out on a right-side merge down a steep sloop into a 3-lane lateral, and the km would start to ratchet up again.  Or the GPS did not account for an exit that had been closed off since the last map update.  At one exciting moment, we were driving along with four lanes of traffic in each direction, when the GPS instructed us to get into the left lane and announced, "left turn in 800 metres".  Oh sure.  But it was quite right -- there was a special overpass to allow hapless drivers to double back to where they should have been.  Exciting times.

[That day I did something I never did before in my entire life.  When we finally got to the store, I poured a shot of tequila and tossed it back before I could face shopping.  Don't tell Mother.]

My point is that we are utterly phobic about Guadalajara and would do anything to avoid a route that included the city's periferico or ring road.  How then to drive west toward the coast?  When we heard of a park in a rural Etzatlan that could be reached by travelling south of the city we decided it was for us.  It also made for a short run on our first day out of the Lake Chapala area.  Alas, less than an hour from our destination, Tomi (nickname for the female voice who torments us through our TomTom unit) took us on a creative shortcut.  The low point was when we found ourselves on an actual, literal cowpath.  We persevered (NEVER go back is my attitude) and got to a tiny crossroads.  An elderly woman and a young boy were quite unable to offer assistance.  I don't believe they understood us when we said 'Etzatlan', but in any case, people who don't drive cars are often unable to help with road directions.

Should have followed the sugar-cane truck.

I can say with some confidence that we were the first RV to navigate through several of the narrow lanes we traversed during the afternoon.  The total time we were off-road was not long, but it was a bit worrying.  Would we reach a place we could not get through and have to retrace our path?  Eventually we found ourselves in a village where some of the approaching traffic was bigger than Vagrant Van.  A little while later we connected with a wider road.  Saved again.

Delia's RV Park was a welcome sight.  It is run by a woman called Bonnie, so it had to be good.  It is a park in every sense -- trees, a grassy field and lots of animals.  Several of the resident dogs came to visit during the evening, once word got around that Jim was distributing treats.

Hard to spot, but there are two iguanas in this picture.

The horses were curious, but spurned my withered carrots.

Guadalajara's churches

The Catedral is the foremost of the city's many churches.  Construction started in 1558 and took 60 years to complete.  The twin towers (one visible at left) are mid-nineteenth century replacements for those destroyed by the 1818 earthquake.

On the altar, the crucified Jesus has a skin tone in keeping with that of the congregants.

Bienvenidos a México

To make our way into Guadalajara Centro we caught the bus near San Jose del Tajo RV Park, had a free-wheeling ride on the ring road, then transferred to the subway.  (Well, it's a surface train mostly, but let's not split hairs.)

We boarded the train at the end of the line and there was a mad scramble for seats with not enough to go around.  I was tapped on the shoulder and directed to a seat.  Then, to my surprise, a young man reached out to Jim and gave him his seat a couple of places away from me.  This struck me as unusual.  Surrendering a seat to a woman is a fairly common occurrence and, since the person giving it up to me was several decades younger, I was happy to accept with thanks.  But offering a seat to a man?  For a second or two I sized Jim up.  Was he looking ancient and decrepit?  Did that dash through the 4-storey pedestrian overpass do him in?

As the train reached cruising speed and the motion steadied, the young man came and stood in front of Jim.  He was about 30, neatly dressed and held a backpack to his chest. He said to Jim, in  perfect English, "I didn't give you my seat because you are an old man.  I gave you my seat because you are a guest in my country."  My eyes filled with tears.  The young man and his friend were teachers.  They talked to Jim through the entire twenty minutes of the journey about Mexico, tourism, the country's problems, its image abroad and their own lives.

They asked Jim what he liked best about Mexico.  He said, "The history, the scenery and the people."  Then he corrected himself.  "Excuse me, I said that wrong.  The best thing about Mexico is its people."

Guadalajara

Guadalajara, GDL, or 'Guad':  it's the Big Smoke in the region of Mexico known as the Western Central Highlands.  The population is at least 4.5 million, the traffic is ferocious, but it's a great city to visit.

The RV park is just at the edge of the city, so a bus and subway trip took us to the Centro.  We strolled through the enormous market, buying only a pork torta.  Our first sandwich here two years ago opened our eyes and stomachs to this gastronomic delight.

The central area of the city is a long corridor of linked plazas filled with fountains and sculptures, and surrounded by museums, galleries, churches and other historic properties.

Not all sculptures feature famous faces.

Current Location

We left Roca Azul Feb 9 and came to San Jose del Tajo Trailer Park in Guadalajara. Being here enables us to take part in the contemporary Mexican past-time of shopping at Home Depot and the Walmart Superstore.  It has been raining since we arrived, giving us no excuse not to tear the RV apart as planned.  This is an effort to make an aged motorhome look merely middle-aged.  Seriously, Vagrant Van now has a spiffy new floor, a restored dinette and will have its settee cushions recovered once we can find someone to do the job.

But if the rain doesn't stop soon we may have to think seriously about going south or east or wherever it's drier.