There is a place down a roadway which I cannot describe how to get to or get out of. It is a roadway which starts after the turn off for San Augustin and before a very large bridge. I recall there being road marker signs near the side of the road and painted on it too. It may have been 265 km. Or it may have been 245 km. Either number it lead onto an unused concrete slabed roadway to our left which drove us south for 1.2kms than turned into dirt, and eventually into sand.
Only once did we come across traffic headed the other direction, strangely it was at a point where the road workers were taking a siesta (afternoon break or nap) and there was just enough room for the midsize pickup truck to move to the shoulder of the road and us to squeeze by in the Fiat.
Over the hills and through the palm trees we went in search of the playa (beach). Closing in around us were several farm fields with corn stalks, chayote fruits (cactus), lean cows and chickens.
Eventually we came across a random set of concrete homes with 4×6-foot sheets of tin and palm leaves built together as roofs. Smiling we spotted a convenience store with a single cooler stacked with bottles of cola, mineral water and juice.
Moving along, Nancy wondered if Tony had gone down the wrong path way. Eventually her observation was correct, as the road became more sandy, soft and silt-like as we neared a river. Tony, gave in when he noticed the only way forward was to fjord the river. Instinctively he made a wide turn around prior to the river and headed back.
A short stint backwards he came upon a “Y” in the road and yielded to the right. Along the pathway we went. Nancy saying several times that we were still on the wrong road and that we should ask somebody directions.
Normally I would like write a blurb about and discuss the male versus female psyche on driving, directions, being lost and not, however I am currently 4-beers and 2-mezcal’s into this story without enough gumption to provide an accurate debate.
As I digress.
The Fiat moved brilliantly thru the small rows of houses as we burned a right past a pavilion and sacrament to the Virgen de Guadalupe.
My brains a side of mush, awaiting our arrival, in order to once again remove myself from this sardine can that is known as a Fiat Mobi.
Three buildings and two trucks up ahead, I was excited to arrive at our destination… somewhere known to locals as Banjos Conjos.
We wondered between the three restaurants and proceeded across the beach in search of Moses and Maria. Not spotting the friends (amigos) we pulled up to a table beneath a palm treed shelter with plastic chairs and a table before a very long stretch of deserted yellow sand beach. Where when quiet, a person could hear the strong sounds of the Pacific Ocean lapping up against the shore line.
We ordered a bottle of water, a coca-cola, a Corona, and a coco de gingere. The coco de gingere turned out to be a giant green coconut with a whole punched through it and a straw. Literally coconut water.
Upon his arrival, Moses exclaimed, “Hola amigo. Bandido Tony!” as Tony reached out first shaking Moses hand than bringing him in for a long-winded bear hug.
After Nancy had greeted both Moses and Maria, Tony introduced, mi esposa (my wife), and myself to his friends.
We all greeted each other and sat down for a long afternoon of conversations. Moses and Tony in broken English and broken Spanish. The rest of us in our native tongues with the exception of various sentences or declarations in the other groups language.
We drank and ate the afternoon away. Sipping on beverages, laughing, struggling with comprehending the others lifestyle, and language. We paused. Spoke about their kids and grandson. As did Tony. We smiled and spoke about our employment. Travels. Money comes in and it goes out. We went for a swim in the ocean.
We talked about Canada and the extreme cold temperatures. They wanted to come and see the cold. We could noy stress enough just how cold (freo) where we live is. We laughed and ordered a late lunch after Moses son, Carlos, his wife Alana and their son, Alan arrived.
Our conversations moved across many topics, economics, travel, lifestyles, and family. As the sun crept to the west, we concluded our meetup about 5:35pm, some six hours after our arrival.
In the parking lot, we shook hands, thanked each other for the afternoon and smiled our departing words of appreciation. As well as well-wishes for future adventures down unknown roads to amazing destinations with our new friends and extended familia.