El Otro Lado

On Monday morning, we climbed the hills above Guanajuato one more time - saying good-bye to Felix, a friend we made over the last couple of months as we crossed paths in the hills each morning. He gave us some beautiful purple and white crystals from one of the Guanajuato mines where he had worked; we gave him a CSI and a TNC t-shirt. All of the good-byes last week were difficult, even as we have been excited about the imminent return home. We feel so privileged to have met such kind and generous people who we now are grateful to count as friends.

Monday we drove just 4.5 hours to Matehuala. Today we drove 5.5 hours from Matehuala to Nuevo Laredo, where we crossed the border into the U.S.A. The whole drive was beautiful, between the tall and craggy mountains around Monterrey, through long high plains of varied cactus and nopal. We periodically passed small groups of women waiting quietly in the shade of a tree along the highway; men riding bikes and burros through long stretches of desert; food stands made of wood and corrugated metal, where gorditas and refrescos were for sale. Many pick-up trucks and SUVs were heading in the opposite direction, south, loaded past the brim with all kinds of luggage and appliances and bikes - It looked like families moving back to México.

The trip went smoothly; at Nuevo Laredo, we waited in line for less than 30 minutes (in 100 degree heat!) to cross the border. The only drama was that on Sunday, as we made the final preparations to begin the road trip home, Bill the Dog sliced his paw on a shard of glass in the hills and had to get two rows of stitches. This did, however, grant him privileges to ride in the cab of the truck.

Now we are in Austin, Texas. The money is green, rather then pink and blue and orange. The streets are wide. The buildings are surrounded by grass. We bought cupcakes at Whole Foods Market. We are feeling a bit bewildered.

We have crossed the border back to the north, the other side. The physical transition is clear and done. But inside, I keep going back and forth, thinking about what is happening on the crooked, colorful callejones of Guanajuato, wondering what Jesús and Juan Carlos and Diana and Marta and Paty are doing right now.