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This year, we caravanned south with our friends George and Joyce Carlson. We were both pulled over a few hours south of the border by a Coahuila state cop who needed grocery money. He said we were speeding, although we weren't. He was an extraordinarily friendly guy, I'll have to say. He first approached Bill and me and we dissembled and told him we didn't speak Spanish. (Although I do speak Spanish, saying "no hablo Español" is an effective first line of defense to any unpleasantry.) The gentlemanly cabrón then went to George, who helpfully told him that Joyce spoke Spanish. George ended up paying him a mordita (bribe, or literally, "little bite") of $30, and we both went on our way. This is only the second time this has happened to us during our eight years of driving through Mexico.

Red = To and around Hidalgo and Veracruz
Blue = Chiapas

Heading into the mountains not far northeast of Pachuga, we visited three very charming little towns - former colonial mining towns that still exuded their 18th and 19th century charm. There are a couple of photos below. It was a weekend and very crowded in these towns, particularly in the one having a festival. We also visited the "Venta de Guadalupe," an old hacienda that was recently restored and converted to an upscale boutique hotel and outdoor activity center (hiking, swimming, rock climbing and mountain biking). It appeared to have few guests and the young woman working in the office was eager to give us an extensive tour of the place, which she did. Unfortunately, it is not the best time to try to get that kind of hotel off the ground financially.

After a weekend in the these mountains (warm in the day, chilly at night), we kept driving northeast to the area around Poza Rica, in northern Veracruz state.

We spent the morning of January 20th in Carlson's camper, which is equipped with satellite radio and a tiny $25 black and white TV. We watched Obama's inauguration on the little TV with the sound muted while we listened to the proceedings on NPR.

From Papantla, it is a short distance to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico and a highway along the "Costa Esmeralda." The shores are lined with affordable beach accommodations for Mexican vacationers. It also has a pretty good concentration of RV campgrounds for the Gringos. In particular, Canadians from Ontario and Quebec favor this region, either as a destination, or as a stop on the way to the beaches south of Cancun.

We spent a night or two at the beach, and then headed inland and upland again in a southwest direction to Xalapa (or Jalapa--think of jalapeño peppers when pronouncing it), the capital of Veracruz state. We spent five nights in Xalapa a few years back--this is the place that houses a wonderful museum of anthropology--but it was the Carlson's first visit. It is mostly a hilly city with narrow and congested streets that are difficult to navigate even in our small RVs. We ended up talking the manager of the local Costco into allowing us to spend three nights in his parking lot, with its spacious area, flat surface, and 24-hour security. It was noisy due to the highway nearby and the fact Costco's burglar alarms went off several times each night, but otherwise, it did the trick. Unlike the Costcos near us, the parking lot was only about half full during peak shopping times. The merchandise seemed a little high-end for middle-class Mexicans, but it also could have been a sign of the rapidly deteriorating economy. We spent some time touring the coffee growing region south of Xalapa and visiting some haciendas and

A few hours south of San Miguel, we got off the beaten path and turned east to face territory we've not yet explored. Our first destination was the Pachuga, Hidalgo region. Pachuga, a not very interesting large city, is about four hours northeast of Mexico City. The area around it, however, is interesting and quite pretty. During the 1800s, Cornish miners were brought in to work the mines. Over time, they settled in and assimilated. Many people still show traces of their Celtic origins. The real legacies of these immigrants, however, were soccer, tennis and Cornish pasties. In a country so fond of soccer, it's funny to think that these settlers introduced it. The pasties are evident everywhere, and we sampled some that were outstanding and others that were so-so. North of Pachuga we stopped to visit a very old monastery. The visit would have been unremarkable except that before we went in, we chatted awhile with a gentleman who seemed rather interesting. It turned out he was the museum's cultural director, and Joyce and I ended up with our own personal and private guided tour, in Spanish. Bill and George had already disappeared somewhere else, so they missed the tour.

cute towns (Coatepec and Xico), before heading southeast to spend the night at popular balneario in the area. Balnearios, which are ubiquitous in much of Mexico, are any sort of aquatic facility, but usually they are associated with thermal hot springs. We arrived on a Sunday, and it was packed with people, but by Monday morning we had the place almost to ourselves and enjoyed soak in a pool filled with continuously flowing hot river water.

The Gulf coast again was a short distance away. We picked a little town and camped at a vacant spot on the beach before heading `to Cortez's first hangout, a village called La Antigua, and then to the city of Veracruz. Our first destination in Veracruz was the old fort Juan de Ulua, whose construction began in the mid 16th century. Its walls are 24 feet thick in some places and it has been attacked and taken twice by Americans - in 1848 and 1914 - as well as by the French and a number of pirates, including Sir Francis Drake. It resembles in some respects the forts at St. Augustine, Florida and San Juan, Puerto Rico. In the 19th century, it was used as a prison, and a nasty one at that. In its day, it sat more or less on an island in a shallow bay. But now the area around it has been filled in and houses Mexico's largest East-coast container port. Now this 16th-century fortification is incongruously surrounded by modern port facilities. Downtown Veracruz is attractive and most buildings date from the 19th or early 20th Century. One highlight was a visit to the "Gran Café del Parroquia," which claims to date to 1808. It serves glass mugs filled halfway with thick espresso, and then a "lechero" comes around with steaming milk and rather dramatically fills the mug to the brim. It was, in my opinion, the best cup of coffee I've had in Mexico. We also visited the museo naval (yeah, you don't exactly associate Mexico with a navy). I was a little bored by the exhibits, but fascinated by the women in crisp naval uniforms who were staffing the facility. My Spanish has gotten good enough to start carrying on conversations, so I chatted it up with one woman, asking her how one joins the navy in Mexico, how one becomes an officer, and about women joining this branch of the service. I also asked what was, in retrospect, a dumb question. I asked for the Spanish word for navy. It is "armada." Duh.

Our campground was located on a secluded beach south of Veracruz. Pancho and Milo loved running the beach and then bringing most of it back into the camper. I can unequivocally say that sandy sheets are not fun to sleep on.

We drove south from Veracruz and slightly inland to visit Tlacotalpan (just try to pronounce that and then say it three times without stumbling). Although we passed through this region a couple of years ago on our way to Chiapas, we completely overlooked it, as we did a large volcanic lake, Lake Catemaco, located about 60 miles further southeast.

Poza Rica is an oil town, relatively prosperous, and not particularly attractive (at least judging by what we saw of it). However, located nearby is El Tajin, one of the more interesting pre-Hispanic ruins we've encountered in Mexico. The area is hilly, green and surrounded by jungle, which made the ruins particularly attractive. Many of the pyramids and temples seemed to have been designed by a previous incarnation of Frank Lloyd Wright.

The indigenous population is Totonac. They perform a rather spectacular flying dance, called Los Voladores, at El Tajin and in nearby Papantla, the epicenter for vanilla growing in Mexico. After a preliminary dance on the ground, five colorfully costumed men climb a very tall pole with four long ropes affixed at the top. One performer, the Caporal, sits atop the pole and plays a flute-like instrument. The others, after wrapping the ropes tightly around the top of the pole, tie the ends to their feet. The rope must be of sufficient length to permit each dancer to make thirteen turns before reaching the ground - this number multiplied by the four dancers gives 52, the number of years in the Totonac "century," so to speak. Of course, the ropes also must be long enough for them to reach the ground. Although now performed for tourists, this originally had to do with promoting the earth's fertility. When I saw the performers lounging about during their breaks, I was tempted to ask them about their accident rate, but I restrained myself. It certainly appeared to be a dangerous way to make a living.

Tlacotalpan had its heyday in the late 19th century as a prosperous agricultural area and it oozes charm. The region's culture is a fusion of Spanish, indigenous and African, and it gave birth to the Son Jarocho style of music (example, "La Bamba") and its own form of Fandango. It sits on a very wide river in the tropical lowlands. It is more Caribbean in flavor than other Mexican towns and is filled with attractive porticoed one-story houses painted in a wide palette of vivid colors. We arrived on the eve of its largest annual festival that it looked to be a big one. Everyone was working feverishly to put fresh coats of paint on the houses and public buildings, workmen were installing new curbs in places, others were replacing rusted, decorative street lamps with new ones, and street repairs were being completed. Meanwhile, hundreds of vendors who travel the fiesta circuit in Mexico worked through the night to set up their stalls - sometimes quite elaborate ones - and display their wares.

As we watched workmen install the sound stages for the musicians and the dancers, we debated about staying for the fiesta. We had a good camping spot, courtesy of the local Port Captain, which we shared with a couple from Victoria, B.C., whom we met as we entered the town. We finally decided to move on before it really got underway, having been put off somewhat about predictions concerning the hoards of people who would be descending on the place over the weekend. Also, one of the planned events was the "Pamplonada," i.e., the running of the bulls, and we noticed that a number of establishments, particularly outdoor restaurants, were erecting bull barriers made of bamboo poles lashed together around their premises. We weren't too keen on having our campers rammed by an irate toro. And so we moved on, but it was interesting to watch the town prepare for the festivities.

We left the flat expanses of the river basins and gained elevation before arriving at Lake Catemaco, a 28-square mile lake set in the crater of a volcano. Our American-owned campground had a dramatic view overlooking the river that drains the lake. There were quite a few small campers and RVs already parked there (and one or two very large ones). So we aren't the only intrepid souls to make their way this far south. We had a good time comparing notes with our fellow travelers, several of whom we had already met along the way at other camping sites. The number of facilities for RVers in Mexico is somewhat limited; they are all listed in a book published by a couple from Seattle. Therefore, it is not unusual to run into the same people from time to time.

The climate of this Gulf region is basically hot and humid. The sunny days have been tempered by pretty strong breezes which kept things comfortable. As we got to Tlacotalpan and Lake Catemaco, it was overcast, drizzly and sometimes quite windy. It also cooled things down quite a bit. While I love having the sun out, having it cooler made it much more bearable for walking about, which we do a lot of.

We left home on December 19th, and we've spent every night in our camper since then, including during the blizzard that greeted us when we visited Clark in Vail. We're amazed that it works pretty well, and that two adults and two dogs can live in a space of about 70 square feet, plus a cab-over queen size bed, for this long! It's nice having Carlsons along, however, for both the company and the fact that their camper is more spacious and comfortable for lounging.

We will be leaving Lake Catemaco in two days (Bill and George plan on taking in the Superbowl first) and heading to Chiapas, a leisurely two-day drive from here. We plan on spending a night or two in the capital, Tuxtla Gutierrez, before heading to San Cristobal de las Casas, where we hope to remain for about a month.