Bob-Kats on the Road 2-20-11

Adios

I am glad I am writing this, even if no one but me ever reads it (a distinct possibility).  The wonderful experiences of a day are quickly over-laid by more experiences the next day.  At the end of this trip (which has no planned end at this point), I would never recall the little details that made that particular experience so special. 

We left Mission with a little sadness as in that short time we had become attached to things.  My favorite grocery store, Foy’s – ethnic , full of interesting things that astonish me on nearly every trip.  Behind a lady one evening, Bob and I were transfixed by the large completely unfamiliar meat items she had.  We waited while they were scanned and then quickly looked to the screen  – beef tripe (stomach?) and beef feet.  What on earth are you making???  Alton Brown’s recipe for soap?  Dinner for a chupacabra?   (Thank you, Darrick, for that word.  I love it.)  You see, even an ordinary trip to the grocery store can be interesting.

The people we met in Chimney Park were awesome.  They are “heartland” people, from the fly-over states”  --  Iowa, Illinois, Michigan, Minnesota, etc.  I don’t know, but I think that had something to do with a certain grace that they had.  Their faces seem open, alight with friendliness, untroubled by the events of modern times.   Some of my favorites:

Liz, our neighbor from Northern Michigan, pictured here at the 50’s luncheon.   She is totally engaged – engaged with park life, engaged with life, a joy to know.

Glenn, a gentle person, an outdoorsman, with amazing stories, the perfect neighbor.

Glenn’s dog Yukon, possibly the best dog in the world.  If Glenn could clone him, he would the Bill Gates of the pet world.  Yukie is also the luckiest dog because he belongs to Liz and Glenn.

Darrel was lineman for the city of Fargo,  North Dakota.  For any of you out there who hate your jobs, just think about that for a minute – winter in Fargo, up on a pole messing with electricity.  Hmmm?   He is also the only person I ever met who has eaten lutefisk (it's Norwegian - cod preserved in lye.  yikes)  A tough guy, but such a nice man.  I hope Bev dances a whole polka with you, Darrel!

Earl from Iowa, who whiled away the two hours of his wife’s dental work in Progreso at the Red Panty bar, seen here at one of our "happy hours".  I think Earl might have a lot of happy hours! 

On the road again, heading west along the Mexican border to our first stop, Falcon.

Okay, I didn't say it was fancy.  This is the same place where we tried to camp.  We loved it, but were defeated by wind and arctic cold after just one day.  Motor home this time and it was terrific.  The wind blew, the coyotes sang and we loved it again.

This is a place with no rules – and it’s free.  The Canadians we met the last time were still there.  They had in fact been there since November.  A Frenchman from Quebec, this is a man who has it ALL figured out.  Exuding charm and joie de vivre, he does exactly as he pleases.  He knows all the best places to go that are for the most part free, usually  with some kind of little kick to them such as a place on Padre Island where you can “be natural”, as he says, which I think means no tan lines. 

He is a totally free spirit, playing his concertina and singing in front of a campfire with his girl friend at his side, living in his extravagant bus with a little Smart car for tooling around. 

Katherine.  There is a story there, I am sure.  She is the camp host, but at 92, she is not much of an authority figure (which may account for the no rules thing.)  She lives in the small house provided by the county, one room filled to the ceiling with books, her six cats wandering around.  As I said, there is no charge for staying there, but people who have been there for a while take care of Katherine in their own way and generally watch out for her.   The Canadians bring her dinner on the weekends when Meal on Wheels does not operate.  She loves chocolate and chips, so we brought her a bag of treats that will last her a while (along with some money, of course).   A thoroughly sweet lady and one I will not forget.

So long, a privilege to have met and gotten to know you all.  I wish you all blue Texas skies.

And to my nephew, Danny, released this week from the hospital where he has been since October, blue skies.  I hope you will be home soon. 

Bob-Kats on the Road 2-15-11

Movin’ On

We have been here in Mission nearly a month.  We have learned  our way around the back roads, found a spot for music and dancing, made friends and furthered our fondness for S. TX, so --- it’s time to leave.  We are heading west in a couple days on the slow track to California.

 I have not written much lately in an effort to keep this at least somewhat interesting and not too mundane (“A Trip to the Laundromat”or “Bob Dumps the Dumper”) without resorting to making something up (“We had heard of the mythical chupacabra, but had never seen one until late one dark night . . .”).  But we have been busy every day save two when the Jeep was covered with ice.

Jeepie Ice Chim Pk RAP 020411

Although later in spring is better, we have still had awesome birding experiences.  Once leaving a store, a cloud of green erupted from a palm tree and circled the parking lot – green parakeets, perhaps 50 of them.  These are not the pet budgies you see for sale in Walmart and such places, but beautiful bright green birds, some 13 inches long.

Note:  Bob has finally taken his new camera out of the box.  So, he is doing a little trial and error with this intimidating piece of equipment.  These next are among his first pictures.  Not too bad!

Traveling a back road, we passed a field being tilled for the first time this season.  Birds were everywhere positioning themselves to pick off whatever interesting tidbit turned up out of the soil. Cattle egrets, grackles and blackbirds checking the dirt for insects.  Them, you expect, but  looking closer we could see it was just a bird fest.  There were hawks – Harriers and white tails --  hunting the rodents turned out of their holes, Coopers hunting the birds who were hunting the insects, a pair of white tailed kites drawn by the excitement who decided to do a little courting. Amazingly, a flock of long-billed curlews settled in close behind the tractor.  This is a bird normally seen at the seashore poking its strange long bill into the sand. 

 Long-Billed Curlew Lag Ata Tx RAP 021311

And my favorite, the crested caracara.  The national bird of Mexico, it’s also called the Mexican eagle.  They are beautiful to see with their striking black and white feathers and orange bill, but it’s their personality that I especially like.  They are just a strutting bully bird.  I have seen them stick out a leg and push a much larger turkey vulture away from a kill.  They have attitude!

Caracara Lag Ata Tx RAP 021311

Then quieter moments.  A buff-bellied hummingbird came down to join us during our lunch at Quinta Mazatlan Birding Center.

Buff-Bellied Hummingbird Qui Mat RAP 020811



The pair of sleeping pauraques on the ground just off our path, birds we never thought we would see as they are nocturnal fliers.  Amazing arialists, their feet are too soft and weak to hold them on a perch, so they sleep on the ground.  Might seem foolish on their part, but they are so well camouflaged that you would only see them if you knew they were there.

Pauraque Est Lla RAP 020211

Tropical Parula Qui Mat RAP 020811

Green Jays Qui Mat RAP 020811

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Long Billed Thrasher Qui Mat RAP 020811

Buff-Belly Hummingbird Est Lla RAP

Leaf Cutter Ants Frontera RAP 020611

Bob-Kats on the Road 2-9-11

A Trip to Progreso

A Trip to Progreso

Yes, that’s right.  We went twice – in one day.  We got all the way to the parking area, when – ah ha – forgot the passports.  We were used to it in Canada, not Mexico I guess. 

So, about 20 miles of back roads to travel over again.  Plenty of time to take note of interesting signs.

                           We are the Red Ants, the mighty, mighty Red Ants . . .

The first thing you feel when you go to Progreso is APPRECIATED!  It’s like the whole town came out and gave you a collective hug.  Now, can you get that in New York City?

But following close on that, you are struck by the poverty.  Of course, you expect that, but not so much the open begging.  First, the bridge people.  They are on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande under the bridge.  Sometimes there is elaborate (and very good) artwork drawn in the sand.  Once a kind of mural with Sponge Bob and the words “One Eco”.  ??  That mantra was picked up by the people under the bridge holding out hats to catch money.

Now you are in Progreso – chaos!  Mariachi music blares, men surround you soliciting for dentists – root canals, cheap!  (take note, Dr. McDaniels, I have options)

In the middle of the street just in front of the border gates there are always one or two military jeeps with mounted and loaded guns – this week grenade launchers.  (gosh, seems to me that you might take out quite a few of the winter Texans with one of those)

Moving on, you are in a sea of people selling --- well, junk.  We try to buy as much as we can while we are there, but my name on a grain of rice?  Let me check my shopping list here…   Tiny girls no bigger than my grandson are selling paper flowers.  Who can say no to that?  Not me, buddy.  They are happy with a quarter.  We come with our pockets full.  (to give them bills would put them in danger)  If you become overwhelmed, you just move into the street.  They understand this and there are no cars. 

We move down the street to Arturo’s.  It’s wonderful.  You are served by imperious waiters dressed in white shirts, ties and black suits.  It is perhaps the top job – certainly at Arturo’s and maybe on the street – and much coveted by the many busboys and junior waiters, I guess they are.  Margaritas are delish (and not too strong since their average customer is about 70).  The menu is large and elaborate with even a page for game meats.   We once ordered chateaubriand for an anniversary evening.  It was an embarrassing affair involving three waiters, a tableside serving cart and flames.  Not recommended.  But the roast chicken with tomatillo sauce? Devine!

After lunch – shopping!  We buy as much as we can – boots for Bob, very nice, a little cowboy vest for Kubs, cute, etc.  And drugs.  I don’t mean marijuana…it’s not that kind of crowd --well, it probably WAS at one time, but not anymore!)   I mean Viagra, Cialis, blood pressure meds for themselves and friends.

Tired from all that shopping?  There is always a friendly bar to stop at.  Perhaps another Margarita?

Or maybe some permanent make up?  Yikes

Last stop is always the duty free liquor store.  By an odd arrangement, you pay for it inside and a runner brings it outside to the curb for you.    

So, we leave.  Walk back over the bridge and back into our lives.  But we can’t forget the people we have seen.  I remember the lady sitting in the street holding her cup out for coins.  I remember her from four years ago.  She was sitting in the same place then.  Begging is a poor living and the season is so short.  I don’t know what happens to these people when the winter Texans are gone.  They do survive as she obviously has, but how is a mystery and a testament to their resourcefulness.

Bob-Kats on the Road 2-1-11

Camping  Trip

You might have thought we were already sort of camping.  No, no.  Bob put exhaustive research and much work into planning for “car” camping.  We got a four-door jeep for that reason -- the  top comes off for star-gazing.  So, our first trip was to Falcon, which is about an hour and a half northwest from Mission.  You may recall the name because Falcon Lake is where the American couple on jet skis was chased, presumably by the Zetas.  He was killed and his body was never recovered.  The area on the Mexican side directly across the lake from Falcon State Park is controlled by members of the Zeta drug cartel (in point of fact, they control the area across the Rio Grande from where we are living as well).  You might think people would be somewhat reluctant to go into the park now.  Not so.  The parking lot at the boat launch was full – at least 40 cars with empty trailers.  One could gather quite a few people were on the lake as this is not the only launch.

The campground was pretty full as well -- too full for us, so we went off to a favorite place of ours, a little county park near there.  There were maybe nine campsites occupied in a large, open area.  There are few services, save water there, but on the other hand, there is no charge.  We discovered that most of the people there were Canadians.  We met people from Quebec, Ontario and Manitoba.   I do like Canadians very much, but I find it interesting that Zapata County, a rather poor county,  is paying to maintain a camping area for people from another country.  Possibly some stimulus money at work here.

So, Bob, who had spent most of one day loading the car, now began unloading the car.  The wind picked up and by the time we were ready to deploy tarp and tent, it seemed to be near gale force.   Fortunately, no one was close enough h to witness this as it must have looked like a comedy routine.   The cat, of course, had come with us – not willingly and I must say, it was not my idea to bring a cat camping in a coyote-infested area.  She watched from her carrier in the car with an appalled expression (Crazy people are in charge of me)  

So, the wind blew, the sun was blistering hot and pretty soon I joined the cat in the shade (inescapable conclusion here:   I am about as useful on a camping trip as a cat).   Bob set the rest of the camp up, soon had us ship-shape and we began assessing our provisions.  At this point someone usually says, “What?  I thought YOU packed the __________________.” (insert something important).   Pretty soon we were off to find a store.   We found one in Roma, about 10 miles away.  You know you are not going to have a good shopping experience when there are no carts and it’s a large supermarket.  It was probably not the business model of the store not to have them.  It was just that the customers perhaps found them useful for other things at home as well.  When I lived in Mexico, I never saw a store quite like this one.  I must say, I lived in the State of Mexico and this is pretty much the State of Tamaulipas we’re dealing with and tastes are perhaps different.  But is that a food item or something to re-sole a shoe with?  Is Bimbo a reliable brand of cinnamon roll?  Helpful store clerks asked us if we needed help  --  they were very nice and we did our best to find something to buy lest we hurt their feelings.  We settled for a box of Cheerios and a lighter.  Once back to camp we decided a nice glass of wine would put things right.  Wine opener?  Ah, no, no wine opener.  Off to a little store down the road, a grocery store-slash-beauty salon.   It was run by a very nice old couple.  No, they did not actually carry a cork screw for sale, but were sure they had one in their kitchen.  Off down the street the wife went to look.  No wine opener.   He said no, no, my friend, I have just the thing, wait here.  And he went into the back, rummaged around a bit and came out large rubber-coated screw of the type you use to hang a bicycle up in your garage.  Here, here, this will work, I give this to you.  He would take no money, so off we went.  And the thing worked like a charm and will be a permanent part of our camping retinue.

Bob was also right in that a few glasses of wine made things much better.  We dined on carry out chicken and watched the sun set.  It was magic.  We were on the Serengeti.

It was amazing.  Soon in the gathering darkness, the night became alive with the sound of animals.  Chickens actually.   We remembered that cock fighting is the local sport of choice.  I didn’t see many houses near us, but it seemed there were some and every one had at least one rooster.  Maybe they were all addled  by blows suffered in the fighting, but in any case, they were all crowing at night instead of in the morning.    Things began looking up for the cat.  It was dark and there were things to chase.  She thought she was in cat Disneyland.  My idea was to contain her in the car with us.  HA.  She did that thing where she makes you trot after her, arms extended, butt sticking out, while she keeps six inches out of your grasp.

Soon the coyotes I knew would be there, were indeed there.  Except for fears of losing our beloved pet to snarling jaws, it was awesome!  The stars were incredible.  Our friend Orion just above our pillows, stars by the millions in the black sky.   Somewhere around 3:00 a.m. the coyotes began sounding really close and the cat, no dummy, shot into the back of the jeep and installed herself in the front seat, us between her and coyote.  All was peaceful after that.

The next evening when the wind came up, we knew it was the arctic cold front that was coming and we decided to head for home.  Dinner at one of our favorites, the wonderful Mr. Pollo (if the Border Patrol is there, you know it’s good).

Nothing on the menu is in English, nor is there anyone there who speaks English, but no fear, everything on the menu is very, very good I am sure.  Bob had our favorite Camarones con Ajo (shrimp with garlic),  The shrimp is always perfectly done on a bed of superbly caramelized minced garlic.  Having this dish there only recently, I opted for something else.  This, it turned out, was a mistake.  I am quite sure that if we ever had insects in the motor home, they are all dead now.  The fumes would kill just about anything I think.

Trip back uneventful, but we had a neighbor waiting for us at home.