The brown van and bolillos

In the early 1990's we began vacationing in Mexico, spending the entire summer wandering from one interesting spot to another. We called these trips our TGV's--Tres Gran Viajes. On our second TGV we traveled over to Brownsville, Texas and then drove down to Ciudad Valles to spend our first night in an older hotel with a room on the second floor. The rooms were large and opened onto a wide covered porch. Drinking water was available in a large glass jarro outside the door. There was no TV, just double beds, ceiling fans, and space for eight kids to spread out on the tile floor.

During the night the hurricane arrived.

When we got up in the morning I volunteered to go to the panaderia and buy bolillos and maybe fresh fruit for breakfast. I stepped outside. It was raining. Really raining. I went down and got in the van. I think maybe Megan and Charlie came with me. We asked directions to the panaderia, got in the car, and headed south on the main street. The water in the street was deep.
It got deeper.
I turned onto a side street where I expected to find a bakery, the van stalled out. When I stepped out the water in the streets was up past my knees--maybe higher. No cell phones back then. No phone in the hotel room. Just me and the kids stuck in deep water. I walked--slogged--up the street and found the bakery, bought bread, bought carnitas next door. Asked if anyone had a phone. Someone pointed me to a house further up the street. Who could I call?
We walked back to the van with the food, wondered what to do. Across the street and down a little I saw a firestone dealer and mechanic. So it was back into the water and wading across four lanes of deep water through traffic.
I can't remember just what the mechanic did, except that he came and looked at the van and got it running and charged me nothing.

I was always lucky in Mexico.

Back to the hotel, warming up, drying out, eating, and back into the van.
Now we all drove south through the rain in our warm van headed for Tamazunchale.

To be continued. . . . .