Mexican Train Trip (pt 1)

With all of this packing I have been doing, I am reminded of the time we were living in Mexico City, back in the summer of 1986. Brittany was just a wee baby at the time. We had flown down there to be of service however we could to the small village of Villa de las Flores, and the surrounding areas. This was just after the terrible earthquake that devastated the city.

What with having our first baby, I had seriously over packed thinking we would need everything. Way back then, well over two decades ago, there were no restrictions on luggage and carry-ons. As a matter of fact I think we went down with 15 large bags for the summer. I even brought a crock pot, and yes I did use it very often. Of course the port-a crib was nothing less than huge. Remember this was way back in the day before all the fancy baby stuff that you can get now-a-days.

On this particular trip we stayed in a $2 a day hotel room. It was a very basic room with this wonderful invention in the bathroom for bathing your baby. It was its own little fixture right in the middle of the bathroom next to the toilet. It was like a very small tub except that there was no plug for the water. You sat your baby in it and the water came straight up like a fountain and then went right back down the drain. Later, to my own embarrassment, I was to find out that it was in fact a bidae.

We were touched beyond description. We were to meet wonderful people who were gracious beyond words despite their poverty. We were humbled by their love and generosity. We were having such a wonderful time with these new found friends that we decided to stay longer. We turned in our air tickets for cheaper train tickets at a later date. We were so glad to have stayed longer. Then time came however for us to pack up and catch an all night and all day adventure thru the Mexican desert to Mexicali, then a bus to Tijuana and then cross by taxi or however we could. We were young and not so smart I suppose. One thing I have learned thru the years is that nothing ever goes according to plan it seems… especially if everything seems just too good to be true.

I must note that the train tickets were much less than anticipated and that we were assured that there was a baggage car, so we could sit comfortably in our little suite. hmmmm.

So late one day I think it was a Wednesday night we went with our translator (it would be a few years at least before I could speak Spanish well enough to make any travel arrangements) and all of our luggage to the station. When we arrived we were very blessed to see that many of the young people from one of the colleges we were working with had come to wave us goodbye. As we cried and collected their thoughtful gifts for us, we checked in and began asking where the baggage car was. There was none.

We were shown our little suite, which we had both thought was a double, it was barely a single. The door popped open to revel a small sofa like seat against the wall on one side and a smaller one on the other along with a tiny table underneath which was a sink and a toilet underneath the smaller sofas. Becky, our translator was very quick to announce that we should not drink the water. We had brought enough food and water along for the almost 18 hour, air-conditioned train ride. There was a large hook on the wall and when you pulled it a mattress came out from the wall and rested over the sink and sofa. The only place to put the luggage would be to pull the mattress out for the entire trip, leaving us nothing but head space, but a little room underneath to store what we could. Everything else would have to go.

So at the last minute we gave away 6 suitcases, one port a crib, and what would be the first of many crock pots th ru the years. They began boarding and we had to situate ourselves in the stuffy room, we were assured air con would commence as soon as the train started, and our friends put what they could underneath us. Reaching over the side and throwing hugs and kisses, we teared up as they shut us in. You had to reach right under the mattress to open the door. We would need to open the door eventually to find the public toilet and when that would need to happen, we were so squished in we would just pop out like toast from a toaster.

We were now sitting with out legs stretched out towards one another, and no extra head space and Brittany in between with a small cooler of food and water. John had the newest Newsweek’s magazine he could purchase in english there, bearing the title “Mexico a Web of Problems”

Soon we heard the old familiar sound of a train beginning and chug chug and the air conditioner finally gave us some relief, for about 10 minutes. Then, to our dismay, it stopped, and as we tried to open the window we are disappointed to find that it had been bolted shut. Almost immediately it began to stifle. I almost could not bear it. Years later I would find that I am in fact claustrophobic, but at the time I just thought I would go insane if I could not get either fresh air or space. This was going to be a long trip.

So along we went, rather slowly I might add. Heat and confined spaces does something to the best of us, but more so to a nursing mom I think. I began to get edgy, and I realized that I could, in fact, run faster that this blasted train was dragging along. Something must be wrong. I tried to be calm, but no matter how hard I tried, I just allowed myself to become more disturbed by the situation.

It was not long before the lights of the city were just a dim glimmer in the distance behind us. Before us it was dark, with the glow of the moon shining upon the cacti that stood nearer to the tracks. There were no sounds other than the rhythmic chugging of the old 1920 engine that seemed as if it was desperately pulling us along with its last breath.

The last thing I remember was that I had been wiping Brittany’s sweaty forehead with water from the cooler. I must have fallen into a deep sleep but was jolted awake by two things, the first being muffled voices, and the next and most curious to me, as looked out of our bolted window, was that we were standing still.

Well, there was but one thing to do, try and open the door for the first time. Reaching under the mattress I tried the door and sure enough I popped out onto the floor of the dirty train hallway. Several of my things endeavored to follow me as John held the baby and asked if I was okay. I spoke too soon, “yeah, I’m okay…. AHHHH” and at just that moment, I raised my head and found myself face to face with an upside down rooster. He looked like he was dead but from my understanding of the old woman who carried the thing slung on her back like some wee babe, he was asleep. Apparently she was able to rock the animal to sleep so she could travel with it on her back. It was about then that a pig ran squealing past and I knew for certainty that this was NOT Kansas anymore. See, I had to say these types of quips quite often or I would indeed have a difficult time.

Laughter IS the best medicine sometimes, trust me. Sometimes, you just have to laugh about it, like when one of my precious babies in trying to dye her hair blue with a ‘so called’ temporary “wash”, dyed her WHOLE self bright SMURF blue all the way to her toes which lasted for about 12 weeks. Believe me, lessons were learned without me having a fit about it. Laughter was the best medicine. (well, and a bit of bleach as well..)

Anyway, I gained my composure as the other passengers looked oddly at me and one elderly man, attempting a toothless grin, pointing behind me revealed the problem. The rest of the train, the most important part I might add with the old engine that was ever so slowly dragging us away from the Mexican desert, was no where in sight…

I panicked