I was in Roberto’s shop earlier in the week, looking over his selection of “clone” DVDs; and Roberto, who is the gregarious sort, struck up a conversation. Before long he asked if I wanted to go to Jalcomulco Saturday and offered to drive us on his “moto”. Being in the midst of the adventure of my life and Roberto seeming like a nice fellow, I said “claro.”
Later, in one of my more lucid moments, I thought I donÂt want to travel to Jalcomulco, some thirty miles from Xalapa, on the back of a motor scooter; and decided that on Saturday IÂd tell Roberto we will take my truck.
This morning I arrived at Roberto’s shop at the appointed time and told him we I would rather take my truck. Two hours of rigmarole later, during which I had figured that since it was a nice sunny day a motor scooter ride would be fun, we were ready to leave. I asked Roberto how long it would take to get to Jalcomulco and when he responded it would take only a half hour I suggested we take his scooter. The trip was more like an ass torturing hour and a half
Which reminds of when I went with Long Life Harborite to look at some land he had purchased. The land he told me was about a half mile away and about five miles later we arrived there. Not that under estimating the mileage caused any problems, since we were driving; but I still remind him of the incident.
I was greatly relieved to arrive in town and to be able to dismount the motor scooter. So relieved, in fact, I started to give Roberto a bit of static about his half hour estimate, along the lines of the static I give my buddy Life Long Harborite.
Jalcomulco is a very picturesque riverside puebla, surrounded by mountains, that is home to quite a few river rafting guide services and camps. The town, it appeared to me, is largely supported by tourism. When we were there two groups of rafters passed, and as we were leaving two tourism buses were pulling in.
We spent a bit of time looking around town and walked across the suspension bridge,
you see in the photo with Roberto mid-span, had a great lunch of Camarones a la Diablo, which I think the dish is called because of the very hot tomato sauce in which the shrimp were bathed. Roberto told me that I would experience the spiciness of the lunch again in the bathroom tomorrow.
The ride back to Xalapa was pretty much excruciating for the first fifteen minutes, or so, until my ass went numb. After that it wasn’t so bad except when Roberto failed to notice a peton (speed bumps which are installed in populated areas to slow traffic) and I rose off the seat eight or ten inches. Rising from the seat wasn’t bad, but the landing was damned painful.
Roberto was a great traveling companion and a very safe driver. We enjoyed lots of laughs together, especially on the ride back after a couple of dark Victorias with lunch. I’m afraid I’m too old, or have too boney of an ass, for extended trips on a motor scooter, though, and told Roberto that next trip I’m driving.
If you’re in Xalapa you will probably enjoy a half day trip to Jalcomulco which is a bit warmer than it is here owing to its lower elevation.