Rick and I took Monday off. Siesta and all. A lot of quiet meditation and prayer on the patio, too. So we were ready for Tuesday, and we were a little tired of the city.
We're country boys at bottom. And another thing. I have to confess this. There are too many gringos in San Miguel. Old goofs in their fucking short pants and Birkenstock sandals. I won't comment on the women, the gringas. I live in a neighborhood as far away from them as possible, but still. You keep bumping into them, and they irritate the shit out of me. So we loaded up some Mexicans in the pickup and headed into the bush.
About twenty minutes out of town you can drop off the highway onto a dirt road that goes down into a canyon and proceeds down that canyon to a remote village called Huerta. In Huerta there is a huge, centuries old tree on the side of the mountain fed by a spring. It is called The Sabina. Not the kind of tourist attraction that appeals to gringos, but I am fascinated by it. And so was Rick.
We then drove on down to Comonfort where there are absolutely no gringos. None. We sat in the plaza and watched Mexicans. Now those of you who know Rick will not believe this, but he did actually sit still for some time there.
A passing Mexican woman volunteered to teeter totter with Rick.