BLUF (Bottom Line Up Front, lest I be accused of sensationalism): I’m negative for CoVid19. But I am traveling again during the pandemic, and didn’t feel well, and here’s the rest of the story.
Back Saturday November 7th, I woke up with a nagging headache. Nothing serious, no other symptoms than some post-nasal drip, an on-and-off again allergy symptom. The night before, Judy & I hosted our monthly dinner club, which meant I drank more wine and less water than usual. I chalked it all up to tannins and dehydration, drank more water, watched football, ate pizza.
The headache continued and worsened a little, but it was intermittent: I seemed sensitive to light and noise, or sudden movement of my head. but I also went long stretches with no pain at all. By the time for our Tuesday night red-eye flight to O’Hare airport in Chicago, I was steadily taking aspirin powders. No fever, no cough, no other symptoms less the drip.
For my expat amigos, here’s the link for the health screening site you mst complete for any flight in, into, or out of Mexico:
Sorry about the length! AeroMexico did a great job segregating passengers to maintain social distance. Then they had us board a bus crammed together for a ride on the tarmac and mosh-pit boarding. *sigh*
We did have masks, but no distance
Gathering the family clan on Wednesday for early Thanksgiving proceeded apace, but so did my headaches and gradually soring throat. ((Unpaid commercial announcement: early Thanksgiving remains the best new idea since sliced bread! That is all)). Judy convinced me to go to the Walgreen’s minute clinic to see if I could get any relief: in the back of all our minds was coronavirus. Nobody thought I had it, but the potential consequences were severe. We were all together in a home, seeing each other for the first time in months, and about to have a family dinner and get together.
I went to the clinic on Thursday morning. Judy and I talked, and we decided I would not mention my recent travel: the word “Mexico” would lead to an instant suspicion, even though the pandemic is no worse there than in the States. I wanted to avoid even a Covid test, as that introduced the pre-result need to quarantine and the possibility of a false positive.
The Nurse Practitioner got about fifteen seconds into my symptoms and said, “I want to do a Covid test.”
“Is that really necessary” I weakly defended. “No fever, no chest congestion, I feel fine except for the weird headache.”
She interrupted “Do you know what they tell us is the clinical clue to coronavirus? It’s WEIRD. This virus acts weird. It is individual. There is a long list of symptoms, and many people have none, many have one or two, and a few get really sick. And the list of symptoms is the same for colds, flus, sinus infections, you name it. WEIRD!”
Out came the test kit and in went the swab. Lucky for me, they now have a short swab so it doesn’t have to feel like they’re poking it through your brain. However, they do do a roto-rooter motion once up each nostril, so it is still unpleasant and leaves you sore.
And the waiting began: three-to-five days for results. The Nurse Practitioner told me to wear a mask at home and to stay away from my family. That way, if I was positive, their quarantine period would start the day I tested. When we arrived back home, the adults gathered for a family meeting: what to do? I stayed quiet (no really) and let our adult children make the call. They agreed that starting quarantine early was no big advantage, and since I had symptoms for several days, I was probably past peak viral lode, meaning they were already infected or weren’t going to be. They decided I should skip the mask at home and just go about our family reunion/early Thanksgiving as planned. I have to admit I was impressed by their level-headed, common-sense discussion.
My headaches continued and the irritated throat waxed and waned over the weekend. Any sniffle from any family member gave me pause: was that just Fall, or something more?
Fall is beautiful, especially in the morn!
On Sunday our younger daughter and her brood departed for home, not knowing whether she was headed back to work or quarantine. Finally on Monday morning the results came back negative for coronavirus. Today the headache is fading and the throat seems better. All systems go for launch!
Lessons learned?
The implication for even a sniffle during a pandemic. I felt pretty confident I was not positive, but I also understood the medical professional’s position: during a pandemic, treat everything as coronavirus until you can prove it’s not. We’re into fall, and cold/flu season. People will contact those conditions and the default medical response is going to be coronavirus test first, with all the implications.
Knowledge is power. Our kids and their spouses are “up” on the situation, and had a panic-free, rational discussion. If anybody had bought into the hysteria, we would have had to overreact. That is not to conclude Covid isn’t serious business: it is. But adults face serious decisions with concern and care and facts, not emotions.
There’s a song tie in for anything. You knew this one was coming:
While nothing is final just yet, three things are increasingly clear: Joe Biden is the President-elect, Mitch McConnell remains Senate Majority Leader with a tiny majority, and Speaker Pelosi lost some Democratic seats in the House. In no particular order, some analytic points about the whole enchilada:
Joe Biden received over seventy-four million votes, the largest number of votes in the history of the United States. This is most amazing, especially considering that in two previous Presidential runs, he never got past “*%” (that is, negligible) support. His support was strongest among non-white voters (especially black women), young and/or first-time voters, the irreligious and voters not employed full time. According to the New York Times exit polls, two-thirds of those voting for Mr. Biden said they were voting primarily “against the other candidate.”
President Trump received over seventy million votes, or the second-highest number in the history of the United States, eclipsing even winning candidate Obama in 2008. Trump won both white men and white women voters (while losing some ground) but registered gains with blacks, Latinos, and LGBT voters (% increase over 2016). Whether you loved or hated him, it’s fair to say he had the worst four years of media coverage in modern American presidential history (deserved or not), and somehow gained over seven million votes!
Mr. Biden has called repeatedly for reconciliation and stated bluntly he will work as hard for those who voted against him as for those who voted for him. These are exactly the right words for our times. The country is deeply divided, and until we stop referring to one another as enemies, Nazis, morons, etc. we cannot move forward. With President Trump out of the White House, the “but Trump” excuse for rudeness or vulgarity has expired. President Biden will have his hands full restoring dignified disagreement.
The exasperated foreign coverage of the election was amusing. Yes, there are many more efficient ways (to have a Presidential decision) than holding fifty state elections. But these are, and will remain, the UNITED STATES of America. The Soviets held very fast, very efficient elections: it was not an improvement. Those Americans calling for a more centralized, national vote have either (1) never worked in Washington, or (2) forgotten their civics lessons. The system is working well, thank you very much, and we’ll keep it. President Trump’s claims notwithstanding, we only started “calling” elections on election night in the 1960’s with the advent of television and polling. There is no reason to consider systemic change because it takes a few days to finish vote counting, or to conduct a recount.
One bright spot was the dog that didn’t bark. Thus far, there has been no government commentary about possible foreign activities to affect the actual voting. If that holds true, it would appear that the United States Cyber Command, Department of Homeland Security, and the Intelligence Community accomplished the mission.
For the second time in as many Presidential elections, pollsters made fools of themselves. Chagrined after their 2016 fiasco, which fostered some of the initial paranoia about President Trump–since after all, he couldn’t have won the election fairly based on what the polls predicted–the pollsters believed the 2018 mid-term results proved they had adjusted and were once again accurate. What they forgot was President Trump was only figuratively on that ballot, and the massive 2020 blue wave the pollsters imagined only demonstrated they were once again looking through the wrong end of the telescope. Citizens of all stripes should remember that polling is roughly akin to fortune telling: you see mostly what you want to see, and that’s not necessarily what will be.
On the other hand, massive kudos to the prognosticators who looked at the demography and changing State voting rules and identified where the “red mirage/blue shift” would happen. In case you missed it, this was the concept that President Trump would hold an advantage in some states at the end of election day, but as the counting went on, that edge would narrow and disappear. To those claiming the constant erosion of support for President Trump in the final state election tallies is evidence of fraud: sorry, that’s not the case. States who counted absentee ballots late demonstrated the effect of greater Democratic Party representation in those votes, that is all.
Progressives and Democrats dancing outside the White House, . . .
Whither Progressivism? I still have friends who say this election was only close because the Democrats ran a moderate, and the result would have been a blue wave with candidates Sanders or Warren. The notion of either of them capturing Pennsylvania or Arizona, let alone Georgia? I’ll leave the last word to Representative Abigail Spanberger (D-VA), a moderate Democrat and former colleague of mine who oh-so-narrowly won re-election. Leaks from the House Democratic conference call on Thursday had her screaming at Speaker Pelosi and others, “We need to not ever use the word ‘socialist’ or ‘socialism’ ever again. . . . We lost good members because of that. If we are classifying Tuesday as a success . . . we will get f—ing torn apart in 2022.” The House Democratic majority may be in the single digits when all the races are decided. And Progressives should avoid looking at State results, where the GOP gained control of several states just prior to redistricting.
The GOP danced in the Statehouses, gaining at least one, holding total control in twenty-three.
This year, as in several past elections, pundits claimed that the Republican Party was doomed because demography is destiny. That is, younger voters skew liberal and Democratic, so they will stay that way in perpetuity. Or minority voters do, and the Unites States will shortly be a non-white majority electorate. So Democrats win. ((Brief aside: population estimates for China all the way through the 1970’s showed accelerating growth. Demographers joked that the modal person on the planet was an eighteen year-old Chinese female, and nothing reproduces itself like an eighteen year-old Chinese female. Demography is destiny. Except the Chinese Communist Party had other ideas, and the will to enforce a draconian one-child policy. They were so successful they halted Chinese population growth, because political demography is not destiny, it’s a variable. People change.)) Young people want free stuff and fewer restrictions. They grow up and get jobs and hate the high taxes. They buy a house and resent the loud music from the bonger next door. Minority groups refuse to act like monoliths, because they are comprised of real people, not stereotypes: for example, Latinos overwhelmingly do not identify as “people of color.” While it is undeniably true the Democrats capture the most minority votes, the GOP has gained an increasing share of the black and Hispanic vote in the last several Presidential elections. Both parties will continue to evolve and compete for all voters. . . for that is what they do.
The Media? Where to start? Major media organizations decided that President Trump was a unique threat to the American experiment and therefor adopted the stance of active resistance to his administration. Will they reclaim any semblance of nonpartisan coverage, let alone objectivity? Unlikely. President Trump was a major boon for the bottom line of these media, and that is at an end with the end of his Presidency. Where do they go for eyeballs, now? Can they possibly resist covering former President Trump?
What about President Trump? While it is possible he’ll just walk away from politics, it is very unlikely. Late in the election cycle, former President Obama broke with tradition and campaigned heavily against President Trump; former President Trump won’t even consider staying above the fray. Trump will resume his role as Tweeter-in-Chief, grabbing headlines with outrageous comments and over-sized rallies. Needless to say, any sputtering of the economy or increase in coronavirus cases will yield a Trumpian tweet-storm of ridicule. Nothing would more salve his ego then attempting to oust President Biden, so he’ll remain in the mix.
Trumpism as a movement? It’s future depends on what you think it is. If you view Trumpism as a collection of racist, misogynist, ignorant and hateful ideas, then Trumpism will recede back onto the fringes of the American polity. But Trump’s view of China as a problem, not a partner? Already mainstream in foreign and economic policy circles in DC. President Biden will have nothing good to say about President Putin, but he’ll be hard-pressed to develop a more oppositional Russia policy. The Wall is over, but support for immigration is flagging, and both parties admit immigration reform is essential, or another wave of child refugees is likely. Protecting the working class from the ravages of globalization is now a rare area of bipartisan agreement. Oftentimes, Trump’s extreme words belied mainstream thoughts. If he were at all introspective, he might realize how easily he could have won re-election with a little moderation.
So we’re headed for a period of Divided Government, which has gotten a bad reputation of late. The “Not My President//the other side is Evil” stuff really got started after Bush v. Gore in 2000 and became steadily worse. By the end of the Obama presidency it deteriorated into the Merrick Garland Supreme Court debacle, a preview of most of the Trump presidency as nothing useful could pass both Houses of Congress and be signed by the President. Let me counter all that by stating that divided government is something America traditionally has a genius for, and we should welcome the chance to re-awaken the spirit. Our worst policies happen when one party controls both the executive and legislative branches, as they inevitably overreach. A willingness to compromise among the three branches has previously and can again result in laws and policies that are supported by the vast majority of Americans. Not accepted under force of law, not resented but accommodated, but supported as the best for all.
Finally, the closeness of the election should put to bed some of the more extreme and unwise ideas: dumping the electoral college, conjuring up new states, creating a national election, packing the Supreme Court. The system worked, people: leave it alone. In the end, the Electoral College will reflect the popular vote, and will exaggerate (a positive thing) the size of Mr Biden’s victory. Adding states fixes nothing, nor does adding legislators! Could you imagine the chaos if we were amidst a national recount right now? And the Supreme Court has nine legitimate justices, quite capable of doing the job assigned by the Constitution. There is no constitutional provision they have to be liberal, they just have to be confirmed.* The urge to change the system every time one is unhappy with a candidate, a party, or a policy is immature. As The Beatles put it, “You say you’d change the constitution, welll-llll, you know, we all want to change your head.”
“Don’t you know it’s gonna be . . . alright”
We’re not out of the woods yet. President Trump could still be truculent in the months left in his administration, and his supporters could begin a “lost cause” mythology. Supporters of President Biden must resist the overwhelming urge to use the power of government to persecute former officials of the Trump administration: that is the stuff of banana republics, not our United States. All told, I’m optimistic the country can regain some normalcy and make divided government work again.
* To those who continue to claim the denial of Merrick Garland somehow invalidates the nomination of Justices Gorsuch or Barrett or both, let me put this argument to bed. Yes, it was completely hypocritical of Majority Leader McConnell to claim he was upholding some standard in denying Mr. Garland a vote. But, there would have been no difference in the Supreme Court. McConnell should have simply held the hearing, held the vote, and failed to confirm Mr. Gorsuch. There was ample historical precedent for this, including most recently Mr. Bork's nomination. If he had chosen this path, we would have ended up with the same court as today, but without this silly argument about non-existent precedent.
I am Pat. Pat-I-am. Pat-the-exPat is who I am. I like the expat that I am.
But do you like a leaky pipe? Does it keep you up at night?
I do not like it, exPat-I-am. I would not like it, that's how I am.
Where would you like to have a leak? Would you like it, in the street?
I would not like it in my house.
I would not like it, nor would my spouse.
I do not like it at my feet, I do not like it in the street!
I do not like the noisy boys, who dig and scrape with noisy toys.
They dig and dig, all day long, but where they dig is always wrong.
The workers come, the workers go; the holes they dig, they grow and grow!
But would you like the leak if found? I bet you would, you would come 'round!
I would not like it here or there, I would not like it anywhere!
I would not like it large or small, I would not like it, one drop or all.
I do not want it near my plants, or by my stairs, or in my pants!
I do not want it in the yard, or close at hand, or very far.
The pipe still leaks under the ground, while hammers croon a jackin' sound.
The piles grow, the holes they deepen, the pipes they go on a-leakin'
Would you like the leak, if fixed? Surely that would do the trick?
I would like the leak, if fixed. Like it gone, and then not missed!
I would like the leaking stopp-ed, the stones reset, the plants re-potted,
I would like the piles gone, the holes filled in, the workers done.
I would say "gracias, adios"; the workers would dance and count their pesos.
I will throw a big fiesta, but first I will take a short siesta.
Closing my eyes, my heart did skip. . . did I just hear another drip?
I write this on the morn of election day, in the Year of Our Lord 2020 (and what a fraught phrase that is!).
These past few weeks, I have noticed increasingly tense private comments and media commentary from those NOB. People cast this election as Good versus Evil. They question any outcome other than the one they want as fixed or fraudulent. They ascribe the worst of intentions to the other side: Racism or Communism, Fascism or Lawlessness, Theocracy or Enforced Atheism. Major media sources have articles about ‘how to survive election day’ or ‘how to prevent an election-induced panic attack’ or ‘how to deal with them,’ the loathsome other.
I don’t see it. First off, hyperbole sells papers (or ratings), so to speak. And people naturally engage in it. But do you really believe it? Imagine this: thirty years from now, your great-great grandchildren ask you: “what did you do in the great battle of good versus evil, Gramps?” You take a deep breath and intone, “Well, I liked a bunch of FaceBook posts, I shared some disparaging pictures on Instagram, I did a mess of re-tweets, and I voted!” Harrumph. No, if you really believe this is a metaphysical contest of Good versus Evil, you would be cleaning your rifle and organizing for battle. But you’re not. Because it isn’t.
I continue to suggest this election is simply, well, another vote. That the trends which led to the Trump Presidency remain in effect, and that President Trump is more a symptom of those trends than the cause (although I admit he contributes, oh, does he contribute!). What are those trends?
The coarsening of our culture. It is now acceptable to use public vulgarity to refer to elected officials. People attack one another not as “wrong” but as racist or anti-American. Those with whom you disagree must be hounded out of restaurants, or off social media, or out of jobs.
The acceptability of violence. Have a traffic dispute? Shoot it out. Police default to escalation, again and again and again. Looting is either promoted or defended as the associated protests are mostly peaceful (a wonderful euphemism, that).
The reliance on emotion or feeling over facts. Masks work, people. The Y chromosome is real, folks. The climate is changing, y’all. Everybody was once an embryo (and vice versa). One can argue with how we put those facts into perspective for public policy, but now we simply choose to ignore the ones we don’t like.
And that’s just off the top of my head. So we’re doomed, right? Nope, not at all. History provides a clue, for those willing to study and learn from it.
The 1864 election looked to be a cliff hanger until Generals Grant and Sherman provided military victories and the resulting enthusiasm carried Abraham Lincoln in a landslide to a second term. You want a Good versus Evil election? Lincoln versus McClellan, who wanted an amicable peace permitting the continuation of slavery in the South. You think it’s violent now? How about an election during a civil war!
What’s the lesson for today? Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address is a masterpiece of brevity and grace. In the face of hundreds of thousands dead, facing more violence to come, he spoke only of reconciliation:
With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan
Abraham Lincoln
Lincoln put his policies where his words led, clearly articulating that mercy–not retribution–would be the defining characteristic of the reunited Union. His stand was so powerful that when he was assassinated by the very enemies he welcomed as fellow citizens, his Cabinet continued his merciful policies amidst cries for general vengeance. If Lincoln could forgive the South, how can we claim to be more aggrieved?
So take a few deep breaths and enjoy Fall today. Have a glass of wine or bourbon and go to bed early tonight. Wake up tomorrow to a new day, whoever is President-elect. Make a commitment to be more merciful to those with whom you disagree. It’s a great start.
“For the measure with which you measure shall be measured out to you.”
So named because the flora in the canyon gives it a copper (oxidized) green hue.
They made the letters in copper color . . . get it?
We stayed at the Hotel Mirador, aptly named as all the rooms lie along the canyon top with balconies overlooking the canyon. Here’s a map to orient you on where we were:
Ahhhh, Chihuahua!
During this trip, we started off off-map in El Fuerte and traveled up the red line (ChePe train) to Bahuichivo. We took a van to Cerocahui, then on to the Gallego overlook of Urique. Next we traveled by van to Posada Barranacas, where we stayed four nights overlooking the canyon. We also took day trips to Creel and to the other named “valleys.” Let me shut up for a moment and let the pictures do the talking:
Our hotel in Posada Barranancas, from the bottom of the canyon
There seems to be a very human need to anthropomorphize physical structures, thus:
Valley of the Frogs
Valley of the Mushrooms
Van of the cute dogs
Little known fact: Yogi bear retired to Mexico, too!The Spaniards called it Valley of the Monks. The Raramuri called it Valley of the Phalluses: You decide!Rorshach test: whole lotta’ monks or phalluses here!The start of the world’s second longest zip line. Note that there is also a tram line.
I encouraged my fellow travelers who had not done so to take the zip line. It’s safe, and everyone should do something like that sometime in your life. Previously, I jumped out of planes and rappelled down cliffs, among other things. I took the tram. Mis amigos were not amused. 😎
Waterfall near Creel
All in all, an amazing eight-day trip. As I told my Spanish teacher, “Cada nueva vista es mas espectacular que la ultima.“(“Each new view is more spectacular than the last.”) A big thanks to our friends who formed our travel pod; a trip is always better when shared with great company! And special thanks to Rosie at Charter Club Tours for arranging, chaperoning, and leading the trip.
You say “to-may-to”, I say “to-mah-to.” The Raramuri are an indigenous tribe living–mostly as they always have–in the Sierra Madre range in the Mexican state of Chihuahua. When the Spanish arrived, they dubbed the peoples as Tarahumara. Much like the Mexica people eventually accepted being called Aztecs, the Raramuri (who speak Raramuri and call themselves Raramuri), accepted others calling them Tarahumara. I’ll go with what they call themselves.
The Raramuri peoples were closely associated with the Apache tribe, so much so they consider themselves to be from the same lineage. The Raramuri say that the Apaches were very bellicose, always looking for a fight, while the Raramuri were more peaceful, so the tribes split up. Eventually the Spanish came a knocking and even the Raramuri put up a fight. Spain tried three times without success to “pacify” the Raramuri. Finally, some Raramuri took up the Spanish language and the cross, while the rest retreated into the canyons to continue life as they liked. Over the years, Spanish influence and Catholicism spread, but with a distinct Raramuri flavor.
Valley farms for the Raramuri
The Raramuri live a spartan existence with individual homes, often built upon existing caves in the canyon walls. Even those who live in the valleys still insist on subsistence farming and hunting for themselves, gathering together mostly for fiestas and seasonal events. Oh, and running.
I don’t mean “let’s go out and get some exercise” running. Not even marathon running–that’s too short in their opinion. No, I’m talking about the kind of extreme long distance running that makes Forrest Gump look like a weekend jogger. It seems that one of the Raramuri beliefs that survived to the present day is that running helps keep the Earth spinning on its axis (in a spiritual, not physical, sense). So they run. and run. and run. Men, and women, and children, even the elderly (to some extent). Barefoot, or in huarache sandals made with twine and the tread of old car tires. How far do they run? While we were there, Raramuri runners competed in a virtual international race where their top runner ran 429 kilometers, or 268 miles. He only averaged a 15 minute mile . . . for sixty-four straight hours (he didn’t win)!
Three years back, a Raramuri woman entered and won her first race, an ultramarathon of thirty-one miles, wearing a skirt and sandals.
“One of these things, is not like the others”
Running is also the Raramuri way to settle disputes. Have an argument over some land, or a cow? Think someone dissed you, but they don’t think so? Really like that shirt the other guy is wearing? The Raramuri challenge each other in a race which can last more than a day. The two contestants push a wooden ball along with a stick, over mountain and canyon trails, and to the winner belongs the spoils!
If the Raramuri/Tarahumara start to sound familiar to you–and if you ever were a runner, they do–you might have read Christopher McDougall’s book Born to Run, which highlighted the “light-footed” (Raramuri means “light-footed”) people who run on their toes in sandals, which in turn helped spark the barefoot/Vibram running craze.
We didn’t see a lot of running, as the Raramuri aren’t there to perform for you. We did have the opportunity to visit two cave-homes. The first was along a road and supported an extended family of about fifteen people, including giving them the chance to market various goods and natural medicines.
Cave home/marketInside, they keep the fire burningChicken coop next door
The second was on the top of a cliff, and was owned by an older couple who are so wealthy (!?!?), they have a second cave house down in the valley, where the climate is tropical. So they move back and forth, depending on the season. Cliff side snowbirds, so to speak.
Judy snaps a photo of the canyon while the man of the house arrivesCatalina tidies up since she had visitors, and she seemed so fond of me Judy had to reclaim me!
Almost all the Raramuri we saw had adopted or adapted to aspects of modern lives. The small farms had satellite dishes, the men wore pants in place of the traditional diaper-like shorts, they hunt with rifles and catch the train to move between towns. But the women still weave pine needles into baskets and wear multiple layers of skirts. And they all still gather to run, just to keep the Earth spinning. So when the Sun comes up tomorrow, think of the Raramuri who ran last night to make it so!
From El Fuerte and the nineteenth century we traveled a short distance to a godforsaken little train station to ride the last passenger train in Mexico: the Chihuahua al Pacifico, or “Che-Pe.” Passenger trains were once legion in Mexico, but they gradually gave way (as in the States) to freight carriers. AMLO, Mexico’s Presidente, has inaugurated the construction of a controversial tourist train in the Yucatan, but who knows if that will ever come to fruition. In the meantime, ChePe is the only game in town. This particular train still moves a few passengers from the coast to the mountains, and locals joke that Che-Pe stands for “always late.” Mostly, this train takes tourists up into the towns of the Sierra Madre, where they can view the Barrancas del Cobre or Copper Canyon.
The train tracks run across some scrub and high sierra desert landscapes before entering into a series of climbs along canyons cut into the mountains by the various tributaries of the Rio Fuerte. Each landscape, tunnel, trestle, and cut is more spectacular than the last. Makes one glad we no longer worry about film but simply shoot the pixels and worry about the good ones later!
On the way up; at the top left, you can see where we later entered a long tunnel after a massive switchback
heading up the canyon
looking down out of the train
This being a Mexican train, you can open the windows and hang out. Of course, if you do, you’ll see the various mudslides, overnight arroyos, track and railroad ties lying beside the railway, and of course tunnel walls which whizz by about a meter from your window. Throughout the day, we rose from sea level to eight thousand feet, crossing forty bridges and passing through over eighty tunnels, before arriving in the eighteenth century, more specifically the mission town of Cerocahui.
I leaned out once for a pic
ok, ok, twice
Cerocahui is even smaller and more rustic than El Fuerte. This town was originally just the site of a cemetery for the Raramuri peoples, when the Jesuits came around and built a mission to evangelize them in the seventeenth century. When Spain expelled the Jesuits in 1767, and the town had to wait on a Franciscan priest to arrive in the 1940s! We’ll revisit the Raramuri in another post.
Cerocahui from a mountain overlook; notice the clouds in the valley in the background to the left
Our hotel, very cozy
vineyards
the mission church
This day we traveled up a scary mining road to a scenic outlook over the Urique valley, one of the canyons forming the Copper Canyon.
Our group & van on the mining road, visiting a Rarumari cave turned into a small storeThe Urique valleyClose up of the town of Urique
The traveling life is back on, masks and all! We’re on a group tour to the Sierra Madre Occidental, specifically to the Mexican states of Sinaloa and Chihuahua. Our first stop is the tiny pueblo called El Fuerte, so called because the Spanish build a fort here in 1610.
El Fuerte is a pueblo magico, a special designation for towns of historic consequence or natural beauty. It certainly has both, as these pictures attest. The historic side is one familiar to those who watched American TV in the 60’s: El Fuerte is the home of the real life El Zorro. Out hotel claims to be the house of the original el Zorro, complete with statue and a tributary room. El Fuerte–built alongside the eponymous river which will feature more in this trip–is a picturesque step back in time to early nineteenth century Mexico. We got a chance to taste one of the two local specialties: black sea bass; unfortunately, the local langostinos are off limits for mating season, so we had to fall back upon regular shrimp. Enjoy the pics!
Zorro, . . .
and his room
The Spanish fort
The fort commands the town
and the river
Our hotel exemplified
the local beauty
and had a fine bar & pool
This mural in the government building gives a short history of the region. Reader’s Digest version: Spanish arrive, everything changes, nobody “wins.”
We’re using El Fuerte to stage higher into the Sierra Madre, before plunging (so to speak) into the Barrancas del Cobre.
Whatever happened to my promise for more visuals in this blog? Oh, yeah, here they are:
The jardineros love to stack rocks
Sunset on the lake &
from the Mirador
These ornamental grasses still amaze mePlenty of forage for everyoneThis is a (drivable) north-south path leading up the mountain, but the last rain made it an arroyoLirio out on the lakeand of course, my beautiful dinner date!
They are funny things, those words. Anyone who travels to faraway places and has to live by gesturing instantly recognizes how critical they are. Sign language aside, words are critical to communication. It’s one thing to travel to Lithuania and see a sign you can’t quite understand; it’s something else to see a sign whose characters are not of your ken! Words are important. Edward Bulwer-Lytton wrote “the pen is mightier than the sword” and we nod, because a man armed with the latter can kill only one at a time, but a man armed with the former can kill en masse.
At the same time, words are so commonplace we take them for granted. Writing well takes time and effort, while writing a lot is easy. The French polymath Blaise Paschal once ended a letter thus: “I have only made this letter longer because I have not had the time to make it shorter.” We downplay the effect of words: “Sticks & stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” is a great children’s rhyme and terrible psychology. “Deeds not words” clearly places the active life as more important. Any police detective (or teacher, or priest, or . . .) can tell you that when we want to dissemble, we become voluble. That is, our lies involve more words than our truths. “Let your ‘yes’ mean ‘yes’ and your ‘no’ mean ‘no’; anything more is from the Evil One.”–Matthew 5:34.
Modern technology even fills in words for us–mostly wrong ones, to much hilarity. The Internet is a source of unending streams of words, including this blog. Twitter will test whether the natural process of evolution continues. It has reduced communication to cue-less, clueless tweets, where words are replaced by emojis, and emotions are more highly-prized than thoughts. It remains to be seen whether this particular advance in communication will be naturally selected to survive.
The power of words depends upon their meaning. After all, words are just collections of letters representing sounds. If we agree what a word means, we can use that understanding to accomplish much: to barter, to pray, to argue, to convince, to plead, to congratulate, to joke, to love. But only if we understand the words themselves, and they–the words–are not static. I think I first realized I was a conservative of sorts when I felt the keen desire to stand athwart the highway of progress and say “No further!” to ever-worse grammar and usage. The other day, I saw a reference to the enormity of a baseball stadium (“Why, was it Yankee stadium?” I mused). But awful used to mean “worthy of awe” and to fathom was to measure (the distance of one’s arms outstretched).
Some suggest that the hidden power of the English language is its ability to adapt: to change meaning as necessary, to borrow words and phrases from other languages, to make new words easily. I agree. Yet in the end all the flexibility and nuance and versatility must yield to one thing: meaning. And the meaning of words is a two-party action; are you inferring what I’m implying? I have never forgotten the Washington DC story about a guy who lost his District government job for using the word “niggardly” which a co-worker thought was a racial slur. The there’s this New York Times piece (a very interesting one about the Defund the Police effort in Minneapolis) that ends quoting an activist who uses they/their pronouns: as a result, it is impossible to understand what they meant or to whom they were referring!
It goes way beyond simple homonyms or even words with new, changed meanings. We give words meaning based on how we feel about who says them. Check out these quotes:
“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”
FDR, First Inaugural address
“We are at war, . . . I ask you to be responsible all together and not to give in to any panic”
Emmanuel Macron
“Don’t panic, but don’t think for a moment that he or she doesn’t really matter. No one is expendable. Everyone counts, it takes all our efforts.”
Angela Merkel
“Don’t let it dominate you. Don’t be afraid of it.”
Donald Trump
“Don’t Fear the Reaper”
Blue Oyster Cult
Okay the last one was just an excuse for a video, but hey, oddly appropriate, no?
In the cold spacing of text on the page, the quotes are quite similar. But how we interpret those quotes comes through a lens of exactly who said just what and when. The words matter, but just so. When the meaning of words becomes a point of contention, democratic discussion becomes difficult. If we can’t communicate, we can’t argue, we can’t even discuss, and we can’t ever agree.
I noticed this recently in a social media discussion spurred on by the Amy Coney Barrett nomination for the Supreme Court. And it bears on the meaning of the word “handmaid.” Some of my friends knew the word primarily from Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, and they inferred a negative connotation of feminine submission. Which is accurate IF your point of view stems from Atwood’s dystopian novel. But the word has a historical association which is positive, connoting agency demonstrated by willingness to align one’s will with God’s Will (To be concise, Adams’s sin was to place his will over God’s, while Mary’s fiat reordered mankind’s relationship with God back to what He originally intended). I’m not asking you to believe any of that, but you must acknowledge this other interpretation was the primary understanding of the term handmaid from antiquity until, oh, say 1985. If you hear the word handmaid and recoil, while I hear it and mutter “thanks be to God,” we’ll have trouble discussing it further.
Words matter. They can inspire people to do amazing things, or strike fear into the innocent heart. But only if we know what they mean. “I do” is a memorable phrase only if it means something more than “I do, mostly.” I wonder: is our societal stress caused by misunderstanding (willful or unintentional), or is the lack of agreement over meaning the symptom of that stress?
