Road to Uruapan

Uruapan is a city about 30 miles southwest of here. We hadn’t been there, not downtown at least, in maybe two years due to the Kung Flu hysteria. We rectified that error Saturday.

Heading out in the Honda before noon, we barreled down the autopista, not something I enjoy doing. Decades ago, Mexico’s toll roads were almost universally four lanes, which is how the Goddess wishes it. But some years ago, economic geniuses decided to make new ones with two lanes. Of course, it was a fiscal decision.

The problem is that Mexicans, who drive like lunatics anyway, continued driving on two-lane autopistas as if they were still four lanes. The shoulders now serve as the missing two lanes, or sometimes straddling the center line adds a lane. Around a curve. This makes for interesting drives. Nobody has slowed down.

The autopista between my mountaintop town and Uruapan is one of the newer two-laners, and driving on it is a white-knuckle proposition. We drove down on the autopista, but we returned on the old route that was used before that autopista was constructed.

The advantages of the old route is that it’s free, and it’s a beautiful ride. Autopistas are toll roads, and they can be quite pricy. The main disadvantage of the old route is that you can get caught behind a slow semi for miles because the route is very curvy.

The photo above is the return, and it was taken through the windshield because it was raining.

It’s a beautiful drive that runs from our high town down, down, down to a noticeably different world that is tropical. Banana trees and avocado orchards are plentiful. And so are narcos, unfortunately.

Our destination was two-pronged. The national park that sits in the middle of town, and a hotel restaurant that rests on the edge of that park. I call it the jungle park, because that’s what it looks like. You could be in Ecuador. The hotel is La Mansion del Cupatitzio.

A good-looking babe who sleeps with me strikes a pose in the park.

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About 20 years ago, a then-friend here in my mountaintop town recommended the restaurant in the hotel, specifically the avocado cocktail.

Cocktail!

I say “then-friend” because a couple of years ago, when she discovered I was a Trump fan, she cut ties via an expletive-filled email. Twenty years up in smoke.

We’ve been going to the park and the restaurant for years, and we always get the avocado cocktail combined with some additional vittles. After the park, and after lunch, we hopped into the Honda again and headed home in the rain.

It was good to leave Uruapan because, with some notable exceptions like the jungle park, it’s mostly a butt-ugly city.

First time I’ve ever seen ziplining in the park. Must be new.

Tale of two births

old long
Crawford W. Long Memorial Hospital in Atlanta.

MY WIFE AND I entered the world in very different times, places and circumstances.

The top shot is where I debuted on the morning of 30 August 1944 at 4:23 a.m. I reportedly kept my mother sweating and hollering for hours, but she finally pushed me out.

World War II was still in progress. Hitler and Mussolini were still alive. Napoleon was not.

The hospital’s name was Crawford W. Long Memorial. It’s still in Atlanta, but it’s now Emory University Hospital.

house.jpg
A street in Uruapan, Michoacán.

This is where my child bride entered the world on 22 September 1960. The Hippie Era had not begun, but it would not be long in coming. Hitler and Mussolini were dust.

This is not a hospital, as you can plainly see. It is where her family lived. I took the photo about two years ago, but I imagine it didn’t look much different in 1960.

She was born at home, delivered by her father who was a surgeon and family practice physician.

This house in Uruapan, Michoacán, was both home to the family, and it housed Dad’s medical office too.

Yes, the two of us entered the world in very different times, places and circumstances, but we ended up together.

The Goddess works in mysterious ways.