In April I blogged about this unique ancient hacienda for sale. Check the first installment of this hacienda in the archives to remember the details so you can read “the rest of the story” now.
So… I finally arrived and discover it will close in an hour, but there aren’t any ticket takers or docents, just men washing a car and others mending the front door. The “office’ was dark and full of boxed bottles of their famous mezcal. Barrels of the potion stored on the veranda. A dysfunctional bathroom with no light and no window, old stairs and floors to “tener cuidado” as I moved around, walking sticks at the ready. The orange eye of a pigeon stared and the floor showed results of hundreds of them! I navigated through massive rooms with worn frescos, rotundas, wallpaper from another era, tiles, insets of artwork on the walls. It was mind-boggling to see the devastation. How could this happen?
A “dwelling” like this was a whole universe for the people then. Towers, domes, lands,all in rural decay now. But in that devastation I eyed the beauty that once was, and I stood in awe.
Then the door was locked and I was left to wander an hour in the hot dusty streets. It was a lazy Saturday for the tiny, non-descript village. Across the plaza a family outing: trotting back and forth, horse, kids and wagon, the weekend diversion. Miniscule store, no restaurants. I have snacks, cold water. Then the church: I say hola to the cleaning lady, savor the well-worn patina of the pews and look up at the stately- statutes of saints. A kid does cartwheels in the street, but never mind, cars are rare here. I see seven men sitting under an awning and hope to buy another bottle of water, but there’s only beer. They seem to enjoy the chit-chat, though most of it was theirs, not mine. I move on, looking in vain for artistic shots, and return to the hacienda. More camera work.Instructions by my translator back at the tiny cafe in San Filipe were that I was to call the driver’s cell when ready to return by taxi. No such luck. The store woman calls: no such person at that number!
Now my little worry-wart antenna goes up. A local, very-beat-up car comes and will take me out to the highway where I may have luck with any taxi available! Obviously I made it, though wary. No taxis, no busses, and an English-speaking man offers to take me in his pickup for the 30 minute drive. Wary, yes, but trusting the gut again. The only problem was he wanted the same amount as the taxi- though I got a “wee” discount.
Back at the cafe no one is around that was supposed to know about my computer!! Scared? Yes. But it is found and finally an actual bus back home to the condo. Lesson learned: In some situations, it is best to pay half the fare, and when they return to get you, pay the other half!! No incentive, otherwise.
If anyone wonders about me, read the plethora of travel books I have, about solo-venturing women in obscure places and countries on the earth I wouldn’t even go to! Now those are scary-and I don’t plan to eat the strange parts of dead animals they place on your plate, that if you don’t eat it, you will offend them! I am grateful for always being safe.
Mary, my travel partner is glad I am home, safe and sound. Me. Too! But I wouldn’t have missed the wonder and memories I will have.
I discovered this great blog on the place and hope you enjoy it.
http://gringado.blogspot.com/2013/04/jaral-de-berrio.html
Ruth Dorsey Blog 
Reblogged this on Ruth Dorsey Blog.