So Daylight Savings Time ended in Mexico last Saturday night. But it doesn’t end in the US until next Saturday. That’s OK, unless you are taking a flight at 7:15am on that Sunday following.
First, is the van service going to remember that the clocks moved back and pick you up at the right 3:30am? I couldn’t tell if they did or didn’t. They called at 3am to say they were at the front door. Were they 30 minutes early or 30 minutes late, but didn’t move the clocks back?
Second, did Continental Airlines get it right when they listed the flight times, ‘cause I didn’t want to miss the connection to California? They did have it right. But I still have had to switch my watch ahead 1 hour and then back 2 hours to keep it straight. What time is it anyway?
Another time change is the change between Mexico time and US time. It’s so evident when I come back across the border… both externally (watching the blackberries pop out as soon as I enter Intercontinental Airport in Houston in an effort to maximize how we spend time) and internally (just noticing my stride speeds up or slows down). Time is treated differently and I’m not convinced that we northerners have it quite figured out.
We held a birthday party for Jacob at our house. The assigned time for the party? 10am to 1pm. The first guests arrived at 10:48am. Over 50% of the guests were still at our house at 5:00pm. Why? We were having such a good time. And if anyone had somewhere else to go, it just became less important than being where we were and with whom we were with. It was a glorious day, and we all just enjoyed the time in the garden with laughter, beer and hot dogs.
Finally, I’m being convinced to buy a hammock. Why? Where else would you want to spend your time? Why I haven’t bought one, yet? I suppose it is because I don’t feel like I’ll be able to slow down enough to enjoy it. So I suppose I’ll really get the lesson of time that Mexico has to teach me when you find me in my hammock, spy novel on my chest as I snore away into oblivion.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
BIG ROCK!
We departed on a cold, foggy Sunday morning with our kids and 2 other families, Zeesman/Hills and Schaffs, in matching Honda Odysseys. As we exited San Miguel towards the east, we were adrift in the clouds that had covered the countryside. All occupants simultaneously noticed that on both sides of the road were hundreds, in fact, thousands of spider webs, glistening in dewy beauty from every bush and tree. We stopped to admire the handiwork (the legiwork?) of these geometric wonders.
A few minutes later, we came over a ridge and, POOF, the clouds dissipated and we were left blues skies and sunshine. And so it was as we headed the remaining hour to the Peña de Bernal. This rock is the 2nd largest monolith in the world. What’s a monolith? (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monolith)
So here we are driving and seeing the signs tell us that we are within kilometers of this rock and it is nowhere to be seen. “Can’t be that big”, I thought. Then you round the corner and “Look, kids!” Whoa. That is a big rock!
After finagling our way around the construction in the little town to the highest parking lot (saves you about another hour of uphill walking), we unload, pee (don’t forget your $3 pesos for your friendly bathroom monitor and paper hander-outer), slather on the sun block, get the water and snacks loaded into the backpacks (I’m tired, already!), we begin the trek upward.
The rock reminded Mary and I of our neighboring central Texas Enchanted Rock. Except, you can’t summit Bernal without some ropes, carabineers, crampons and shear wall-climbing experience. The climb is highlighted by:
-Beautiful flowers
-A couple of dozen man-made steps, a short slippery rock face, and lots of hopping from craggily rock to craggily rock
-Rests in the few shady spots
-Yodeling (“High on a hill is a lonely goatherd….” I think I was the only one who thought this was funny. How do you say goatherd in Spanish?)
-Some Mexican women climbing in their Sunday best, including shoes with heels
-Incredible vistas!
We enjoyed our accomplishment from our high perch for a bit and then completed the almost 2 hour (total) hike as I often hoped that back at the bottom there would be cold cerveza and a knee-replacement surgeon.
Back in the quaint little town, we had a fine Italian lunch (it’s not all Mexican food down here, you know). As we exited and as often happens, our friends ran into other friends of theirs that happened to be playing blues and jazz in the little town square. We listened for a few songs, and were happily interrupted by a parade of caballeros and caballeras(?) riding through the streets in their customary garb.
All that, and we were home by 6pm.
A few minutes later, we came over a ridge and, POOF, the clouds dissipated and we were left blues skies and sunshine. And so it was as we headed the remaining hour to the Peña de Bernal. This rock is the 2nd largest monolith in the world. What’s a monolith? (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monolith)
So here we are driving and seeing the signs tell us that we are within kilometers of this rock and it is nowhere to be seen. “Can’t be that big”, I thought. Then you round the corner and “Look, kids!” Whoa. That is a big rock!
After finagling our way around the construction in the little town to the highest parking lot (saves you about another hour of uphill walking), we unload, pee (don’t forget your $3 pesos for your friendly bathroom monitor and paper hander-outer), slather on the sun block, get the water and snacks loaded into the backpacks (I’m tired, already!), we begin the trek upward.The rock reminded Mary and I of our neighboring central Texas Enchanted Rock. Except, you can’t summit Bernal without some ropes, carabineers, crampons and shear wall-climbing experience. The climb is highlighted by:
-Beautiful flowers
-A couple of dozen man-made steps, a short slippery rock face, and lots of hopping from craggily rock to craggily rock
-Rests in the few shady spots
-Yodeling (“High on a hill is a lonely goatherd….” I think I was the only one who thought this was funny. How do you say goatherd in Spanish?)
-Some Mexican women climbing in their Sunday best, including shoes with heels
-Incredible vistas!
We enjoyed our accomplishment from our high perch for a bit and then completed the almost 2 hour (total) hike as I often hoped that back at the bottom there would be cold cerveza and a knee-replacement surgeon.
Back in the quaint little town, we had a fine Italian lunch (it’s not all Mexican food down here, you know). As we exited and as often happens, our friends ran into other friends of theirs that happened to be playing blues and jazz in the little town square. We listened for a few songs, and were happily interrupted by a parade of caballeros and caballeras(?) riding through the streets in their customary garb.
All that, and we were home by 6pm.
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