For almost as long as I can remember, Katherine has spoken of wanting to go into Mexico to visit the small village where the pottery she so enjoys is made. For years, I have heard of Mata Ortiz, and with my admitted Germanic slant, I thought Mata Ortiz was a women, and not the small village that it really is. I distinctly remember going to a small shop run by a man named Tito, in a slightly shabby Mexican restaurant in Tucson called Casa Molina, and hearing him tell Katherine the stories behind the pots he sold, many of which came from Mata Ortiz. He used to talk of taking "gringos across the border" to go to Mata Ortiz and buy pottery direct from the artists, and for years (decades, actually) Katherine has spoken of wanting to visit. Time, uncertainty, and now-known-to-be unfound fears for safety all kept her (and us) from ever making that trip.
Fast forward a decade or two, and we discovered that our favorite tour company -- Gate1 -- offers a trip through northern Mexico, that includes a visit to Mata Ortiz, as well as a trip on the famed Copper Canyon railroad. We'd spoken on and off for several years about going, but never pulled the trigger. Early in 2018, in speaking about our impending "empty nest" status, I raised the prospect of just the two of us making the trip to Mexico in the fall. Over many objections from K, as it seemed so far off and our status so uncertain, we went ahead and booked the trip for late October. We did end up shifting our trip by a week, once we learned where Anna was going to college and that parents' weekend now conflicted with our original planned travel dates. The airline and travel company were great, and allowed us to make the changes at no cost, so we were set to depart DC on the first Saturday of November.
Monday, November 12, 2018
Sunday, November 11, 2018
Into the Sun
The end of October ended up being a very busy time, and our trip literally snuck up on us. We went down to visit my parents the previous weekend, and Anna was able to join us. We left Chip with them, for an extended stay at the "Wintergreen dog spa." Halloween came and went, and before we knew it we were packing. I knew next to nothing about the area we were about to visit, and when I did a late weather check for the towns/cities we'd be visiting, I was surprised to learn that we would be dealing with cool temperatures. We were promised a wide range of weather, ranging from the 40's at night to low 80's during the day, across our nine-day tour.
We had an early-morning departure from Dulles. We had a slight delay in leaving, which resulted in our just making our connecting flight in Denver. In hindsight, it worked out well, as we walked off of one plane and directly onto another. Our tour was departing from Tucson, which was more than okay with us, as we both love the city and had not been there for a while -- me especially.
We were not to meet our tour for a welcome meeting until 7:00pm, and with our arrival shortly after noon local time, we took full advantage of our time by renting a car. We headed north to Sabino Canyon, in hopes of taking the tram to the top and doing some hiking on the way down. On our way there, we stopped by Jane and Dean's condo, which is in a development literally across the road from the Sabino Canyon entrance. Whereas K had visited once before, this was my first visit. The place was closed up well, but it was in excellent shape and we both enjoyed being able to stop in for a brief visit, and to eat the lunch we had picked up along the way.
At the canyon, we were dismayed to learn that the tram, which normally ferries people up the mountain, was not operating. The operator had lost its concession license and they had no timetable for the resumption of service. The park ranger at the entrance, who told us all this, sensed our disappointment, and offered to let us into the park for free, and recommended a short hike that started at the visitor center. As we couldn't turn down her kind offer, we went on in and made the short hike. This was, easily, the warmest day of our entire trip, with temps in the mid-80's. There was no humidity, but we still worked up a sweat on the admittedly short hike, which was beautiful nonetheless.
We had made reservations at a highly rated restaurant in the Tucson foothills, from where we planned to watch the sunset. Our timing worked out perfectly, and over an outstanding Italian dinner, we were able to watch the cascading sunset from our table, which also abutted an outdoor terrace, from where other diners were eagerly snapping pictures of their own. Our meal was simply outstanding, and we've told Jane and Dean they must visit when they return to Tucson after Christmas.
Our hotel was located at the airport, which is on the south end of town, exactly opposite of where we had spent the majority of our day. It was a longish drive back down, but we arrived with about 10 minutes to spare before our kick-off meeting.
This was our fourth Gate 1 trip, and we've booked a fifth for this coming March, to Morocco. Still, each tour has had its own flavor, and we were both a little anxious to see how large our group might be, and try to get a handle on the personalities and "vibe."
Our tour director, Raul, was in his late 50's, and was very gracious when we checked in. Though we were five minutes early, we were nonetheless the last to arrive. We quickly learned that our group totaled 20, which we agreed was a nice, relatively small size. With our guide Raul, and our driver, Arturo, we were 22. Looking around the room, however, it was soon apparent that K and I were the youngest travelers, and by a considerable margin in most cases. That was fine, but it was a new dynamic for us. We were used to traveling over school breaks or the summer, which has always meant more families. That was not the case this time, but now in hindsight, I believe we had our best group of fellow travelers yet.
The meeting just laid out the basic schedule for the coming nine days, and afforded an opportunity for people to ask questions. Everyone introduced themselves, and we hailed from all corners of country -- upstate New York, Chicago, Florida, Denver, and a healthy California contingent.
It was a three-hour time difference from Virginia -- soon to be two hours, as the rest of the country was to switch to Standard Time the following morning -- so we were both very tired and were eager to get into bed as quickly as we could.
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| Our Itinerary (in Reverse) |
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| Arriving Into Denver |
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| Katherine Outside J&D's Condo |
We had made reservations at a highly rated restaurant in the Tucson foothills, from where we planned to watch the sunset. Our timing worked out perfectly, and over an outstanding Italian dinner, we were able to watch the cascading sunset from our table, which also abutted an outdoor terrace, from where other diners were eagerly snapping pictures of their own. Our meal was simply outstanding, and we've told Jane and Dean they must visit when they return to Tucson after Christmas.
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| Sunset From the Restaurant |
This was our fourth Gate 1 trip, and we've booked a fifth for this coming March, to Morocco. Still, each tour has had its own flavor, and we were both a little anxious to see how large our group might be, and try to get a handle on the personalities and "vibe."
Our tour director, Raul, was in his late 50's, and was very gracious when we checked in. Though we were five minutes early, we were nonetheless the last to arrive. We quickly learned that our group totaled 20, which we agreed was a nice, relatively small size. With our guide Raul, and our driver, Arturo, we were 22. Looking around the room, however, it was soon apparent that K and I were the youngest travelers, and by a considerable margin in most cases. That was fine, but it was a new dynamic for us. We were used to traveling over school breaks or the summer, which has always meant more families. That was not the case this time, but now in hindsight, I believe we had our best group of fellow travelers yet.
The meeting just laid out the basic schedule for the coming nine days, and afforded an opportunity for people to ask questions. Everyone introduced themselves, and we hailed from all corners of country -- upstate New York, Chicago, Florida, Denver, and a healthy California contingent.
It was a three-hour time difference from Virginia -- soon to be two hours, as the rest of the country was to switch to Standard Time the following morning -- so we were both very tired and were eager to get into bed as quickly as we could.
Saturday, November 10, 2018
And We're Off to the Races...
About two months before we were to depart, we received an e-mail from Gate 1 advising us that our tour itinerary had been reversed. A key part of the trip involves a six/seven-hour train trip aboard the Copper Canyon railroad. Evidently, its schedule had changed, forcing them to rejigger our trip. In hindsight, we are very pleased that this happened, as we think the ultimate order of places visited on our trip was far more enjoyable than had we adhered to the original schedule. The only downside is that the return into the U.S. was originally supposed to take place at the very small border crossing at Columbus, New Mexico, where waits have traditionally been shorter than at the other crossing used on this trip -- Nogales, Arizona. With us now crossing into Mexico at Columbus, there was zero wait at all. There was, however, a very long single-lane row of cars waiting to cross into the U.S., which ran through the length of the town of Puerto Palomas, on the Mexican side.
Another slight downside to the reverse itinerary was that the pre-Columbian city of Paquime is closed on Mondays, which meant that we had to be sure to arrive there on this our first full tour day, Sunday, before they closed. This meant that our departure from Tucson was the earliest of our trip, with bags picked up from our rooms at 6:00am, and a post-breakfast departure on the bus at 7:00am. With the three-hour time difference, it was no problem for us to be up and ready, especially since we'd turned in at 8:00pm the night before.
On the way, I learned that the only land invasion on the southern border took place at the town of Columbus, New Mexico, where the famed Mexican freedom fighter Pancho Villa staged a nightime raid in 1916. Common belief is that he ordered the raid in retaliation for having been repeatedly swindled by a local merchant, from whom his army of revolutionaries had been purchasing weapons. Whatever the cause, 17 Americans were killed and it resulted in the ultimate decision by President Wilson to order General Pershing (of ultimate WW1 fame) to lead the so-called "punitive expedition" to send thousands of U.S. troops into Mexico in an ultimately unsuccessful bid to capture Villa.
At Columbus, they were completing massive renovations to the border facilities in both the U.S. and Mexico, so it looked more like a construction zone than proper border. That said, the existing wall was clearly visible as we crossed over. As we crossed and saw the wall up closed, it seemed every member of our tour group boo'd loudly. This was our first indication that every member of the tour was anti-Trump through-and-through. The odds were certainly against that, but in multiple conversations over the course of the trip, the common consensus was that "people who travel" tend to have a "more rationale view of the world." I'm not saying I necessary prescribe to that, but many people in our group made passionate statements to that effect.
Once over and in the small town of Puerto Palomas, we stopped for -- what else -- our first Mexican lunch, and our first round of margaritas. This was our first tour on which three meals a day were provided. I theorize that this was the case to ensure that quality of the food and water people were having, as Montezuma's Revenge is synonymous with travel to Mexico. Whatever the reason, it was very nice. It helped, too, that every meal we had was good; in fact, many of them were great. We were also offered drinks at all of the dinners and many of the lunches, which was another unexpected perk.
After lunch, I crossed over the street in hopes of converting some dollars to Mexican pesos. I went into a seven-11 equivalent called Del Rio to use their ATM. I looked at items in the store and was shocked at how high the prices seemed. It was only later that I learned that Mexico uses the "$" sign to denote Pesos, so the chocolate bar with a $10 price tag really only cost 10 pesos, or 50 cents. Whew!
The drive south from here was what I would call "stereotypical Mexico." It was a mostly barren landscape, dotted by often delapidated shacks and depressing small settlements interrupting the arrow-straight two-land road. By the following day, we learned that this was the exception rather than the norm, which was a pleasant surprise.
We drove through the small city of Neuvo Casa Grandes around 3:30pm, where we would be staying the night. It is a majority Mormon town, settled by Mormons in the late 1800's, who were essentially fled the U.S. after Utah and the main Mormon church outlawed polygamy. They were allowed to practice in Mexico for almost half a century. While it is now officially banned in Mexico, judging from the sizes of many of the homes, it would seem that polygamy still goes on, but rather under the table.
The ruins of the pre-Columbian city of Paquime are on the south side of town, and we arrived with enough time for a full tour in the impressive UNESCO-built and funded museum, as well as an extensive walk through the ruins themselves. I am embarrassed to admit that I had never even heard of Paquime, but I would soon learn that it is inextricably linked to the Mata Ortiz pottery. Paquime was a capital city for the Mogollon people (never heard of them), and flourished between the 1100 to 1400's. They were sun worshipers and managed to build very elaborate water aqueducts for both cold and hot water (from nearby hot springs), and they built earthen buildings up to three stories tall. They eventually were conquered and died out, and the city was lost to the desert until excavations began under an American in the 1970's. While excavating the ruins, they came across an amazing array of delicate pottery. The discovery of that pottery would ultimately inspire the modern-day Mata Ortiz school. The entire Paquime site is managed and maintained by UNESCO, as a world-heritage site. They built a beautiful and comprehensive museum on the site, and continue excavation work to this day. You can still see obvious artificial mounds surrounding the area, which surely contain additional ruins.
We literally shut down the museum and site before making the short drive back into Nuevo Casa Grandes, where we were to spend the night. When our tour group assembled the previous night, Raul had "warned" us that the hotel in Tucson -- a Sheraton -- would be the nicest of our trip. In hindsight, I'm sure he told us this to set our expectations relatively low, but on this first night on the road, checking into the motel at Nuevo Casa Grandes, I had no reason to doubt his earlier assertion. The hotel was clean and comfortable, but definitely a motel. This was to be our "cheapest" hotel of the trip, with each subsequent hotel raising the bar, night after night.
Dinner this evening was at a restaurant called Malmedy, which is actually Belgian, run by a Frenchman, and located inside a 19th century Mormon homestead. The house was not well lit on the outside when we arrived, and was certainly showing it's age, inside and out. We were all ushered through the beautiful home, into what had probably been the parlor. A local musician serenaded us while we enjoyed an outstanding meal. The steak I had was just wonderful. We ate dinner with a couple from Denver; a retired attorney and his about-to-retire wife, who is a nurse in a prenatal emergency care hospital. We hit it off with them very well and spent considerable time with them during the trip.
Everyone was exhausted when we returned to the hotel and we quickly fell asleep, even though it was in the 50's, and we had to turn on the heat in the room, which neither of us expected.
Another slight downside to the reverse itinerary was that the pre-Columbian city of Paquime is closed on Mondays, which meant that we had to be sure to arrive there on this our first full tour day, Sunday, before they closed. This meant that our departure from Tucson was the earliest of our trip, with bags picked up from our rooms at 6:00am, and a post-breakfast departure on the bus at 7:00am. With the three-hour time difference, it was no problem for us to be up and ready, especially since we'd turned in at 8:00pm the night before.
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| Crossing Into New Mexico |
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Katherine and our driver, Arturo
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The drive eastward into New Mexico, and then south toward Mexico, was through two different deserts, with very different topographies. We also passed through a high boulder pass near the New Mexico border, which was quite taking. The longish ride allowed our guide ample time to begin telling us the history of where we were going and what we would see, as well as an opportunity to meet our fellow travelers.
On the way, I learned that the only land invasion on the southern border took place at the town of Columbus, New Mexico, where the famed Mexican freedom fighter Pancho Villa staged a nightime raid in 1916. Common belief is that he ordered the raid in retaliation for having been repeatedly swindled by a local merchant, from whom his army of revolutionaries had been purchasing weapons. Whatever the cause, 17 Americans were killed and it resulted in the ultimate decision by President Wilson to order General Pershing (of ultimate WW1 fame) to lead the so-called "punitive expedition" to send thousands of U.S. troops into Mexico in an ultimately unsuccessful bid to capture Villa.
At Columbus, they were completing massive renovations to the border facilities in both the U.S. and Mexico, so it looked more like a construction zone than proper border. That said, the existing wall was clearly visible as we crossed over. As we crossed and saw the wall up closed, it seemed every member of our tour group boo'd loudly. This was our first indication that every member of the tour was anti-Trump through-and-through. The odds were certainly against that, but in multiple conversations over the course of the trip, the common consensus was that "people who travel" tend to have a "more rationale view of the world." I'm not saying I necessary prescribe to that, but many people in our group made passionate statements to that effect.
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| The Wall Separating U.S. and Mexico |
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| Our First Meal in Mexico |
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| Line of Cars Waiting To Cross Into U.S. |
The drive south from here was what I would call "stereotypical Mexico." It was a mostly barren landscape, dotted by often delapidated shacks and depressing small settlements interrupting the arrow-straight two-land road. By the following day, we learned that this was the exception rather than the norm, which was a pleasant surprise.
We drove through the small city of Neuvo Casa Grandes around 3:30pm, where we would be staying the night. It is a majority Mormon town, settled by Mormons in the late 1800's, who were essentially fled the U.S. after Utah and the main Mormon church outlawed polygamy. They were allowed to practice in Mexico for almost half a century. While it is now officially banned in Mexico, judging from the sizes of many of the homes, it would seem that polygamy still goes on, but rather under the table.
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| Certainly Large Enough for a Few Wives. ;-) |
The ruins of the pre-Columbian city of Paquime are on the south side of town, and we arrived with enough time for a full tour in the impressive UNESCO-built and funded museum, as well as an extensive walk through the ruins themselves. I am embarrassed to admit that I had never even heard of Paquime, but I would soon learn that it is inextricably linked to the Mata Ortiz pottery. Paquime was a capital city for the Mogollon people (never heard of them), and flourished between the 1100 to 1400's. They were sun worshipers and managed to build very elaborate water aqueducts for both cold and hot water (from nearby hot springs), and they built earthen buildings up to three stories tall. They eventually were conquered and died out, and the city was lost to the desert until excavations began under an American in the 1970's. While excavating the ruins, they came across an amazing array of delicate pottery. The discovery of that pottery would ultimately inspire the modern-day Mata Ortiz school. The entire Paquime site is managed and maintained by UNESCO, as a world-heritage site. They built a beautiful and comprehensive museum on the site, and continue excavation work to this day. You can still see obvious artificial mounds surrounding the area, which surely contain additional ruins.
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| The UNESCO-built Museum |
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| Some Original Mogollon Pottery -- on which Mata Ortiz Pottery Is Based |
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| Our Guide, Raul |
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| Paquime |
We literally shut down the museum and site before making the short drive back into Nuevo Casa Grandes, where we were to spend the night. When our tour group assembled the previous night, Raul had "warned" us that the hotel in Tucson -- a Sheraton -- would be the nicest of our trip. In hindsight, I'm sure he told us this to set our expectations relatively low, but on this first night on the road, checking into the motel at Nuevo Casa Grandes, I had no reason to doubt his earlier assertion. The hotel was clean and comfortable, but definitely a motel. This was to be our "cheapest" hotel of the trip, with each subsequent hotel raising the bar, night after night.
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| Our Motel in Nuevo Casas Grandes |
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| Belgian Restaurant Where We Had Dinner |
Friday, November 9, 2018
Meeting an Icon, and Visiting a City Built by NAFTA
This day was the one to which Katherine had been most looking forward. Mata Ortiz day. First, some background. Mata Ortiz is a tiny village about 40 miles from Nuevo Casa Grandes. It is so remote, the paved road between the two towns didn't exist until about 10 years ago, and it was only reachable by mule, horse, or train (when the train still ran about 80 years ago). There was a man in the village, named Juan Quezada, whose occupation had been to collect firewood for the village. He was born in 1940 and is now 78 years old. In the early 1970's, while foraging for firewood, he came across a cave, in which he found a significant cache of Paquime pottery. It was very unique in how thin it was, as well as the featured designs. He spent the next several years attempting to recreate the pottery in his spare time, experimenting with clay he excavated from the hills surrounding Mata Ortiz. It took him years to perfect a method to make the pots without a potter's wheel, and to fire them so that they would not shatter. He began to produce the pots, but had no way to sell them. A few pots he had given away made their way into New Mexico, when an American anthropologist named Spencer MacCallum came across them. He was so intrigued he traveled into Mexico and spent several weeks trying to locate the artist. He eventually made it to Nuevo Casa Grandes, where a shoeshine man recognized the work. As there were no roads to Mata Ortiz, MacCallum traveled by mule to eventually link up with Quezada. He commissioned Juan to begin producing pots, which MacCallum brought across the United States to museums and exhibitions, and they were soon in very high demand. As Quezada began to see income and realized he couldn't keep up with demand, he taught his children and family members the secrets of his pottery, and eventually he trained multiple people from Mata Ortiz. Over time, apprentices have in turn trained others, and the pottery now flourishes. Despite his wealth, Quezada still lives in his same home in Mata Ortiz, which now also serves as his studio. He still goes into the mountains almost every day to collect and search out new sources of clay.
So, on this morning, we were brought to the home and studio of one of Juan's original students, who now runs his own studio. It was located adjacent to the Paquime ruins. Here we got to visit with four pottery artists who put on a demonstration of how the pots are made, painted, and then fired. It was fascinating to see it all step-by-step. All of the designs, by the way, are painted by hand, using human baby hair, as it is so fine. All of the clay is 100% natural from the nearby mountains, and all of the paints are made from local, natural pigments. It was particularly interesting to watch them fire four recently painted pots; we saw the process from beginning the end, and afterwards the four pots were made available for sale to our group.
20181105_091515 from Allen Steele on Vimeo.
We then got back onto the bus and made the 45-minute ride to Mata Ortiz, which is now reachable via fairly modern roadway. The village remains little but a speck around an abandoned rail station. We went to Juan's home, which as I said is also his studio. They had work on display and for sale by Juan, as well as his immediate family members and apprentices. We quickly lost ourselves looking at all the designs when Raul called for our attention and announced that Juan Quezada was there and wanted to meet us. I thought K was going to faint. When Raul had called in the morning, to confirm our visit, he spoke with Juan's wife, who said he was about to head out in search of clay. He pleaded with her to "hold him" for a while, until we could arrive, and she did. It was quite a treat. He speaks no English, but Raul ended up interviewing him in Spanish, and recording the whole thing on his phone. Raul said that it had been more than 10 years since he last saw Juan, which is testament to how lucky we were to meet him. Raul decided to take advantage of this and record Juan telling him the story of how he first found that cache of Paquime pots, and all the stories leading up this day.
After making some purchases, we all piled back onto the bus and headed back to the studio where we began the day. On the way, Raul was sharing with us some of the highlights of the stories Juan had just told him. Someone asked why Juan seemed so poor, when he certainly has made money over the past few decades. He chooses to live very simply, but then Raul told us all to look behind us, to the mountain immediately behind Mata Ortiz. He explained that Quezada had purchased the entire mountain, to ensure that the clay would remain available to the people of Mata Ortiz, which I thought was really cool.
Back at the studio, we had a wonderful lunch on the back terrace, catered by the French chef from the previous night's dinner. Lunch was a local Mexican affair, which several "unique" local dishes, including boiled pig's skin. While I tried it, I certainly didn't finish it, nor did I return for seconds. The other items were excellent.
Speaking of pig's skin (nice segue way), during the tour we learned that our guide, Raul, had entered the United States illegally at the age of 17. He grew up and was living in the city of Chihuahua, and was running a business with his older brother making and selling fried pork skin. He and his brother had no way to readily transport and distribute their product, so they relied on city buses, which was far from ideal. His goal was to go to America long enough to learn English and make enough money to buy a pick-up truck for he and his brother. He ended up spending almost two years working on a dairy farm, where he basically "washed the cow's teets" and cleaned up after them. A Mexican friend had gotten him the job, but the farm was a 24-hour-a-day business, and he and his friend worked opposite 12-hour shifts. That left Raul working alone, with no one who spoke Spanish. He certainly learned English, and he did eventually make enough for the pick-up truck, which he bought and drove back to Chihuahua. With the money from pork skins he eventually made it to college, became an insurance broker, and saved money to tour Mexico with his family. He eventually "felt a calling" to become a guide himself, so he became licensed. He now does about four or five tours a year, and works the rest of the time running an insurance business with his son.
Our lunch ran long and most of us were tired already; the beer at lunch didn't help that. Many dozed on the bus while we continued south toward the city of Chihuahua, where we were to spend the night. The landscape became increasingly prosperous as we drove, and we came across miles and miles of farm land, which all kinds of crops growing, including an inordinate amount of chile peppers. As we approached Chihuahua, it felt as though we were in the United States. The highway was lined with malls and shops, including every imaginable American company. We also began to see a huge number of factories and assembly plants. Raul explained that Chihuahua is called the "city built by NAFTA," given all the business that has come in since the accord was signed in the 1990's. There is no unemployment in the city; in fact, they can't get enough workers. As we got more into the city, we began to see small numbers of Central American immigrants standing on corners. Raul explained that they see a "fair number" of Central American immigrants, but explained that anyone on the street begging simply didn't want to work. There were help wanted signs everywhere, and, as he put it, "anyone who can breathe could get a job if they wanted." It was an interesting take on things.
Our hotel was perched high on a hill overlooking the city, and it felt as though we could be in any American city. There was a Home Depot behind us, a Whole Foods across the road, and an iHop on the other side. Our hotel catered to business people and was full of people visiting the assembly plants from Canada and the United States.
We were treated to a happy hour with drinks and food at the hotel, after which we had an excellent Mexican meal at a restaurant located in a shiny new mall nearby.
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| Field of Chile Peppers -- We Were Able To Pick Some |
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| Tub In Which the Pottery is Fired |
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| Placing Pots Into Tub for Firing |
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| Ready To Be Fired |
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| They Fire for About 25 Minutes |
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| Artists at Work |
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| Coming Out After Firing |
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| The Four Just-Fired Pots Before Auction |
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| Painting the Design With Baby Hair |
20181105_091515 from Allen Steele on Vimeo.
We then got back onto the bus and made the 45-minute ride to Mata Ortiz, which is now reachable via fairly modern roadway. The village remains little but a speck around an abandoned rail station. We went to Juan's home, which as I said is also his studio. They had work on display and for sale by Juan, as well as his immediate family members and apprentices. We quickly lost ourselves looking at all the designs when Raul called for our attention and announced that Juan Quezada was there and wanted to meet us. I thought K was going to faint. When Raul had called in the morning, to confirm our visit, he spoke with Juan's wife, who said he was about to head out in search of clay. He pleaded with her to "hold him" for a while, until we could arrive, and she did. It was quite a treat. He speaks no English, but Raul ended up interviewing him in Spanish, and recording the whole thing on his phone. Raul said that it had been more than 10 years since he last saw Juan, which is testament to how lucky we were to meet him. Raul decided to take advantage of this and record Juan telling him the story of how he first found that cache of Paquime pots, and all the stories leading up this day.
After making some purchases, we all piled back onto the bus and headed back to the studio where we began the day. On the way, Raul was sharing with us some of the highlights of the stories Juan had just told him. Someone asked why Juan seemed so poor, when he certainly has made money over the past few decades. He chooses to live very simply, but then Raul told us all to look behind us, to the mountain immediately behind Mata Ortiz. He explained that Quezada had purchased the entire mountain, to ensure that the clay would remain available to the people of Mata Ortiz, which I thought was really cool.
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| The Road to Mata Ortiz |
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| The Tiny Village of Mata Ortiz |
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| Juan Quezada's Home/Studio |
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| Inside the Studio |
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| Juan & Katherine |
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| Raul Records Juan's Story |
Back at the studio, we had a wonderful lunch on the back terrace, catered by the French chef from the previous night's dinner. Lunch was a local Mexican affair, which several "unique" local dishes, including boiled pig's skin. While I tried it, I certainly didn't finish it, nor did I return for seconds. The other items were excellent.
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| We Missed Day of the Dead Celebrations by a Day |
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| Nuevo Casas Grandes |
Our lunch ran long and most of us were tired already; the beer at lunch didn't help that. Many dozed on the bus while we continued south toward the city of Chihuahua, where we were to spend the night. The landscape became increasingly prosperous as we drove, and we came across miles and miles of farm land, which all kinds of crops growing, including an inordinate amount of chile peppers. As we approached Chihuahua, it felt as though we were in the United States. The highway was lined with malls and shops, including every imaginable American company. We also began to see a huge number of factories and assembly plants. Raul explained that Chihuahua is called the "city built by NAFTA," given all the business that has come in since the accord was signed in the 1990's. There is no unemployment in the city; in fact, they can't get enough workers. As we got more into the city, we began to see small numbers of Central American immigrants standing on corners. Raul explained that they see a "fair number" of Central American immigrants, but explained that anyone on the street begging simply didn't want to work. There were help wanted signs everywhere, and, as he put it, "anyone who can breathe could get a job if they wanted." It was an interesting take on things.
Our hotel was perched high on a hill overlooking the city, and it felt as though we could be in any American city. There was a Home Depot behind us, a Whole Foods across the road, and an iHop on the other side. Our hotel catered to business people and was full of people visiting the assembly plants from Canada and the United States.
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| Area Around Our Hotel in Chihuahua |
Thursday, November 8, 2018
Mexican History, Mennonites, and Mountains
Our tour guide, Raul, lives in Chihuahua, and we had an opportunity to meet his wife and son the previous evening during our happy hour. His wife was there to bid us farewell this morning, as we loaded up around 0800. The man who had been Raul's mentor once he decided to become a tour guide is now retired, but he agreed to come along with us this morning, to provide us with a tour of the city.
Some of us had theorized that the part of the city where we spent the night must be an anomaly, as it looked like a prosperous U.S. suburb. We were all proven wrong as we drove into the heart of the old city, which was exceedingly clean and impressive. I remain somewhat embarrassed that I had such a stereotypical image of a large Mexican city in my head. Also startling was a huge statue on the way downtown of Anthony Quinn as Zorba the Greek. I had no idea, but he was Mexican, and grew up in Chihuahua. His real name was Antonio Sonio Rodolfo Quinn Oaxaca.
We started at the city town hall, which also serves as the capital for the state of Chihuahua, which was a very impressive 19th building built in the French style, during the French occupation of the area. Here, too, my lack of knowledge of Mexican history was startling. I had absolutely no idea that the French had occupied Mexico, let alone that they had a major war of independence against them. Also interesting to note is that Cinqo de Mayo celebrates Mexican independence from France, NOT Spain. The building featured a huge open courtyard -- which had been covered by canopies -- and the outer walls were covered with a continuous mural, tracing the history of Mexico from the arrival of original indigenous people across the land bridge from Russia, through the early 20th century. Our guide spent a good amount of time walking us around the entire, immense panorama, and I personally found it fascinating, as I knew next to none of the history.
We had heard of the famous (infamous) Pancho Villa the day previous, when we drove through the town of Columbus, New Mexico, which he famously raided in 1916. I knew him primarily as a character in Looney Tune cartoons, when in fact he was a major figure in the Mexican independence movement. His villa (no pun on his name) is located in Chihuahua, and it is now a museum run by the Mexican military. Believe it or not, his widow lived until 1981, and lived in the building until her death. The exact number of women he married is still in dispute, and he is rumored to have fathered well over 100 children. While his last widow was alive, evidently members of the VERY extended family took to selling off trinkets, furniture, books, etc., unscrupulously to make money off of his name. In the final years, she was a loss to stop them, let alone really know what was going on, so as soon as she passed away, the military swooped in, took control, and has run the place as a museum ever since. One quite interesting display was the 1915 Dodge car in which Pancho Villa was assassinated in 1923. It was still ridden with bullet holes. As an example of how early members of his family tried to make money off of his name is how one of his sons agreed to send the car to the United States, where the Dodge corporation used it as a promotional item across the country. After two years, they were to return it and make a sizable "donation" to the Villa family. Well, Dodge simply refused to send the car back or pay anything. The family fought the case in the courts for more than 10 years, during which the car was left sitting out in the sun in El Paso, Texas. The family ultimate prevailed and the car was returned, but it had to be completely refurbished. Dodge was also ordered to pay legal fees and a substantial penalty, neither of which they ever did.
We bade farewell to our temporary tour guide on the way out of town, and headed southward. We were headed up, literally, toward the top of Copper Canyon. We left Chihuahua at ~4,500 feet, and would go up to nearly 8,500 feet, when we finished for the day on the rim of the canyon. The first few hours of the drive were very gradual, and we progressed through endless miles of very active agriculture. It was the first time I had seen cotton growing, too. It looked very much like Iowa or Nebraska, but with a few more rolling hills. We also began to see miles and miles of apple trees, and I was surprised to learn that North America's largest apple orchards are in Chihuahua. They are also the largest producer of pecans in the world, and there were simply miles and miles of trees.
For lunch we were headed to a Mennonite farm, so Raul took time to explain to us exactly why in the world there are so many Mennonites in Mexico -- over 100,000. Turns out that there was, and even still is, a large Mennonite community in Canada, primarily in Manitoba. Following World War I, the Canadian Government changed the laws which had allowed them to claim conscientious objection; they would not longer permit it. Rather than be forced to serve in the military, which is against their religious beliefs, tens of thousands of Mennonites agreed to relocate to Mexico, where they were welcomed with open arms. While Mexico did not fight in World War I, at the same time they were fighting their own civil war, which lasted for nearly a decade, from 1910-1920. During that time, agricultural production plummeted, and that was exacerbated by a massive land redistribution program after the war. The Mexicans saw the Mennonites as "ready labor," who were willing to work the land. The government actively worked with leaders of the community to identify a suitable area in which it settle. The first few proposed sites were outright rejected by the Mennonites, primarily because of climate, but when they saw the high Chihuahuan plains, many thought it even looked like Manitoba, so they moved. Over a roughly four-year period, thousands of them resettled from Canada to Mexico. Part of the agreement, too, was that they would not need to pay taxes for 50 years, they did not need to serve in the military, and they could run their own schools.
The farm where we had lunch also had a museum of Mennonite living, which I found very interesting. I also didn't know that they still speak "low German" as their mother tongue, which is primarily a combination of Dutch and German. The meal was all made by family members on site, and was -- not surprisingly -- served family style, and it was all very good. A nice break, too, from Mexican food. Plus, who doesn't love a good whoopee pie!
After lunch, and another hour or so of apple and pecan orchards, we hit the Sierra Madre mountains and started to climb. The roads became very narrow, with countless hairpin turns. As with all of our Gate 1 trips, you rotate seats every day, and this day, we were at the front. This is where we wanted to be, as we knew it would be scenic, but after a dozen or so slow, hairpin turns, when the front of the bus seems to overhang the edge, I think we had had enough.
During the drive, Raul told us the history of the Tarahumara Indians, who inhabit the area. They are, needless to say, indigenous people, and they used to live on the plains. During the era of Spanish missions, rather than be forcibly converted to Christianity, they fled into the mountains, and eventually settled in the huge Copper Canyon area, where they were left alone and remain to this day. They maintain their own language, religion, and distinct culture. Aside from the color dresses which their women still wear, which were originally designed by Spanish Conquistadors, they live much as they did 500 years ago. Unlike the Cherokee Indians, including the famous capture of Sitting Bull in Chihuahua, the Tarahumara were pretty much left alone, as they were not competing with anyone for the land, which barely provides enough for subsistence living. The previous day we had heard how bounty hunters in the 1800's were paid $100 for the scalp of an adult Cherokee male, $50 for a woman, and $25 for a child under 12. The money was paid by Mexican owners of large haciendas (which were broken up after the civil war) to bounty hunters, primarily from the United States.
Along the way, too, we learned that our driver -- Arturo -- would be leaving us the following morning. He would drive the bus all the way through the mountains and down to El Fuerte, where we were to disembark the Copper Canyon train the day after next. It was going to be a 14-hour trip for him, all alone, in the bus. We also learned that he would be swapping out our bus once he got there, as he needed one which had a new U.S. Department of Transportation decal of some sort, needed for expedited re-entry into the United States.
When we finally reached our hotel, it was a sight to behold. I was not sure our bus would make it up the very steep and precarious drive, but as Arturo rounded one last sharp curve, the hotel appeared, perched -- literally -- on the edge of the canyon. It was built right into the mountain side, and the views were spectacular. Our rooms all had balconies overlooking the canyon, and we wasted no time in grabbing our complimentary margaritas and headed there to snap pictures. We subsidized those welcome drinks with some more, offered up by our neighbors -- the couple from Denver -- who had brought all the fixings for Moscow Mules. We were to be at this hotel for two nights, and all of our meals for those two days were held in the hotel's dining room, which also offered floor to ceiling canyon views.
It had REALLY cooled off when the sun set. It was probably in the high 50's, low 60's when we arrived, but it was clearly near freezing when we walked back to our room following supper. We had to walk outside to reach our rooms. We loaded all the extra blankets we could muster onto the bed, and turned on the heat, though I don't think it was fully working. Still, we were snug fairly soon. As it was election night back home, I had been waiting all day to watch the returns. All we had, however, was CNN in Spanish. I tried to hang with that for about 10 minutes, but finally decided I could wait to find out what happened. We were both secretly glad to have an excuse to turn off the TV and just go to sleep.
Some of us had theorized that the part of the city where we spent the night must be an anomaly, as it looked like a prosperous U.S. suburb. We were all proven wrong as we drove into the heart of the old city, which was exceedingly clean and impressive. I remain somewhat embarrassed that I had such a stereotypical image of a large Mexican city in my head. Also startling was a huge statue on the way downtown of Anthony Quinn as Zorba the Greek. I had no idea, but he was Mexican, and grew up in Chihuahua. His real name was Antonio Sonio Rodolfo Quinn Oaxaca.
We started at the city town hall, which also serves as the capital for the state of Chihuahua, which was a very impressive 19th building built in the French style, during the French occupation of the area. Here, too, my lack of knowledge of Mexican history was startling. I had absolutely no idea that the French had occupied Mexico, let alone that they had a major war of independence against them. Also interesting to note is that Cinqo de Mayo celebrates Mexican independence from France, NOT Spain. The building featured a huge open courtyard -- which had been covered by canopies -- and the outer walls were covered with a continuous mural, tracing the history of Mexico from the arrival of original indigenous people across the land bridge from Russia, through the early 20th century. Our guide spent a good amount of time walking us around the entire, immense panorama, and I personally found it fascinating, as I knew next to none of the history.
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| Capital Building of Chihuahua |
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| Interior of the Capital |
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| Part of Mural Showing Entirety of Mexican History |
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| Don Miguel -- Persecuted Priest, Seen as Father of the Mexican Revoluation |
We had heard of the famous (infamous) Pancho Villa the day previous, when we drove through the town of Columbus, New Mexico, which he famously raided in 1916. I knew him primarily as a character in Looney Tune cartoons, when in fact he was a major figure in the Mexican independence movement. His villa (no pun on his name) is located in Chihuahua, and it is now a museum run by the Mexican military. Believe it or not, his widow lived until 1981, and lived in the building until her death. The exact number of women he married is still in dispute, and he is rumored to have fathered well over 100 children. While his last widow was alive, evidently members of the VERY extended family took to selling off trinkets, furniture, books, etc., unscrupulously to make money off of his name. In the final years, she was a loss to stop them, let alone really know what was going on, so as soon as she passed away, the military swooped in, took control, and has run the place as a museum ever since. One quite interesting display was the 1915 Dodge car in which Pancho Villa was assassinated in 1923. It was still ridden with bullet holes. As an example of how early members of his family tried to make money off of his name is how one of his sons agreed to send the car to the United States, where the Dodge corporation used it as a promotional item across the country. After two years, they were to return it and make a sizable "donation" to the Villa family. Well, Dodge simply refused to send the car back or pay anything. The family fought the case in the courts for more than 10 years, during which the car was left sitting out in the sun in El Paso, Texas. The family ultimate prevailed and the car was returned, but it had to be completely refurbished. Dodge was also ordered to pay legal fees and a substantial penalty, neither of which they ever did.
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| Pancho Villa's Home -- Now a Military Museum |
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| Interior of Villa |
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| Dodge In Which Villa was Assassinated -- Note the Bullet Holes |
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| Mural Glamorizing Villa's Raid on Columbus, New Mexico |
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| In Chihuahua -- Another Relic of the French Occupation |
We bade farewell to our temporary tour guide on the way out of town, and headed southward. We were headed up, literally, toward the top of Copper Canyon. We left Chihuahua at ~4,500 feet, and would go up to nearly 8,500 feet, when we finished for the day on the rim of the canyon. The first few hours of the drive were very gradual, and we progressed through endless miles of very active agriculture. It was the first time I had seen cotton growing, too. It looked very much like Iowa or Nebraska, but with a few more rolling hills. We also began to see miles and miles of apple trees, and I was surprised to learn that North America's largest apple orchards are in Chihuahua. They are also the largest producer of pecans in the world, and there were simply miles and miles of trees.
For lunch we were headed to a Mennonite farm, so Raul took time to explain to us exactly why in the world there are so many Mennonites in Mexico -- over 100,000. Turns out that there was, and even still is, a large Mennonite community in Canada, primarily in Manitoba. Following World War I, the Canadian Government changed the laws which had allowed them to claim conscientious objection; they would not longer permit it. Rather than be forced to serve in the military, which is against their religious beliefs, tens of thousands of Mennonites agreed to relocate to Mexico, where they were welcomed with open arms. While Mexico did not fight in World War I, at the same time they were fighting their own civil war, which lasted for nearly a decade, from 1910-1920. During that time, agricultural production plummeted, and that was exacerbated by a massive land redistribution program after the war. The Mexicans saw the Mennonites as "ready labor," who were willing to work the land. The government actively worked with leaders of the community to identify a suitable area in which it settle. The first few proposed sites were outright rejected by the Mennonites, primarily because of climate, but when they saw the high Chihuahuan plains, many thought it even looked like Manitoba, so they moved. Over a roughly four-year period, thousands of them resettled from Canada to Mexico. Part of the agreement, too, was that they would not need to pay taxes for 50 years, they did not need to serve in the military, and they could run their own schools.
The farm where we had lunch also had a museum of Mennonite living, which I found very interesting. I also didn't know that they still speak "low German" as their mother tongue, which is primarily a combination of Dutch and German. The meal was all made by family members on site, and was -- not surprisingly -- served family style, and it was all very good. A nice break, too, from Mexican food. Plus, who doesn't love a good whoopee pie!
 |
| Mennonite Farm Where We Had Lunch and Toured Museum |
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| At the Family-Style Lunch |
After lunch, and another hour or so of apple and pecan orchards, we hit the Sierra Madre mountains and started to climb. The roads became very narrow, with countless hairpin turns. As with all of our Gate 1 trips, you rotate seats every day, and this day, we were at the front. This is where we wanted to be, as we knew it would be scenic, but after a dozen or so slow, hairpin turns, when the front of the bus seems to overhang the edge, I think we had had enough.
 |
| Apple Orchards -- They Get a Lot of Hail, so They Have Nets They Can Extend To Protect Them |
 |
| Starting the Climb into the Sierra Madre Mountains |
During the drive, Raul told us the history of the Tarahumara Indians, who inhabit the area. They are, needless to say, indigenous people, and they used to live on the plains. During the era of Spanish missions, rather than be forcibly converted to Christianity, they fled into the mountains, and eventually settled in the huge Copper Canyon area, where they were left alone and remain to this day. They maintain their own language, religion, and distinct culture. Aside from the color dresses which their women still wear, which were originally designed by Spanish Conquistadors, they live much as they did 500 years ago. Unlike the Cherokee Indians, including the famous capture of Sitting Bull in Chihuahua, the Tarahumara were pretty much left alone, as they were not competing with anyone for the land, which barely provides enough for subsistence living. The previous day we had heard how bounty hunters in the 1800's were paid $100 for the scalp of an adult Cherokee male, $50 for a woman, and $25 for a child under 12. The money was paid by Mexican owners of large haciendas (which were broken up after the civil war) to bounty hunters, primarily from the United States.
Along the way, too, we learned that our driver -- Arturo -- would be leaving us the following morning. He would drive the bus all the way through the mountains and down to El Fuerte, where we were to disembark the Copper Canyon train the day after next. It was going to be a 14-hour trip for him, all alone, in the bus. We also learned that he would be swapping out our bus once he got there, as he needed one which had a new U.S. Department of Transportation decal of some sort, needed for expedited re-entry into the United States.
When we finally reached our hotel, it was a sight to behold. I was not sure our bus would make it up the very steep and precarious drive, but as Arturo rounded one last sharp curve, the hotel appeared, perched -- literally -- on the edge of the canyon. It was built right into the mountain side, and the views were spectacular. Our rooms all had balconies overlooking the canyon, and we wasted no time in grabbing our complimentary margaritas and headed there to snap pictures. We subsidized those welcome drinks with some more, offered up by our neighbors -- the couple from Denver -- who had brought all the fixings for Moscow Mules. We were to be at this hotel for two nights, and all of our meals for those two days were held in the hotel's dining room, which also offered floor to ceiling canyon views.
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| Our Hotel at Copper Canyon |
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| A Welcome Margarita With a View |
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| Our Room |
It had REALLY cooled off when the sun set. It was probably in the high 50's, low 60's when we arrived, but it was clearly near freezing when we walked back to our room following supper. We had to walk outside to reach our rooms. We loaded all the extra blankets we could muster onto the bed, and turned on the heat, though I don't think it was fully working. Still, we were snug fairly soon. As it was election night back home, I had been waiting all day to watch the returns. All we had, however, was CNN in Spanish. I tried to hang with that for about 10 minutes, but finally decided I could wait to find out what happened. We were both secretly glad to have an excuse to turn off the TV and just go to sleep.
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