Props to New York

There is always something nice about meeting people from the same place as you when you are far from home. I was basking in the warm after glow of rocking 10 km of endless heavily banked corkscrew turns through canyon country and enjoying the views of a deep gorge before continuing my descent into Zimapan. I noticed three guys taking pics, one with long hair, one with a aspiring fro, and thought they didn't look very Mexican (or Euro) in their shorts and tees. They didn't think i looked very Mexican in my bib knickers, Chenango Point Jersey, and cycling cap.

We were all correct and all New Yorkers. Gary, Mike, and Greg were climbers headed to Orizaba from SUNY - Plattsburg where they majored in expedition studies - now thats a course of study i could have used credit in! And they were getting credit for a climbing trip! They had been driving non-stop for the past few days powered by junk food and caffine. We got to chatting and at the same time i met Armando that lived in a pueblito down below the bridge. Armando had worked in the United States in the NYC metro area. We were all a little tickled by the instant NY reunion moment.

Long and short of it we took Armando up on his offer to see the old bridge visit his home village that consisted of extended family. One beer led to two beers which led to three then four, and we were going nowhere.
The old pueblito in the canyon below the bridge was comfortable and inviting. Recently, a group of motorcyclists had stayed there enjoying the comforts for a couple days. We hiked around the canyon checking out the limestone cliffs and river. Armando's father, Tito, was a secondary schoool mathmatics teacher and we used his kitchen to make a dinner. We passed a pleasant evening chilling, listening to Greg's guitar, and were brought out the best tamales i have had to date with chocolate atole (a corn or rice based hot beverage) before falling asleep on the porch.
The genuine hospitality was a welcome time out from our respective journeys, or is the journey.

Whenever i hear a pumping bass system i can't help but get a little nostalgic for home.