Tips for a Road Trip Through Central Mexico

The drive from Oklahoma City to the Mexican border is nearly 24 hours. We make the drive all at once, only stopping maybe 5 times for a quick bathroom break. As we cross in southern Texas, I immediately notice how the terrain changes into a more isolated and dry environment. We decide to drive to Mexico in the dry season but I am told that during the wet season the entire landscape is transformed into a terrestrial paradise plush with emerald green from horizon to horizon. Even still, as we cross the border into Toledo, I am struck by how beautiful the architecture is. Churches and wind weathered walls make up almost everything, but the seemingly desolate colors of beige and white only add to my fascination with the place.

After sorting out all our passport documents and driving permit, we set out again for another 6 hour trip to the place where my friend's family grew up. This area is in the dead center of Mexico in the Aguascalientes and Zacatecas states. The sun starts to retreat as we got closer and I noticed how vivid the stars are. My ears pop while the car zigzaggs up and up dangerous roads that my friend's father does not seem to be concerned about. He was raised here after all and it is safe to know I was not a lowly American trekking this strange, new place alone.

We pass by the town of Tabasco, which from the highway looks like a couple dozen orange orbs set on top of tiny pueblo squares. The cool desert air opens up in the night and I can breathe like never before. We climb much higher in altitude than I am used to in Oklahoma and the healthy sensation of a clean environment is an astonishing surprise. Out here, major industry and western growth is not prevalent. This region has been able to retain it's traditional tethers and mystery because of its isolation from the outside world.

We continue our drive through a few villages until finally reaching El Chique, Zacatecas. The road leading into this hidden village is hard to see, but it's marked by a wall of trees lining both sides of a gravel trail off highway 54. The bases of all the trees are white, reflecting the headlights from the jeep. I am told they are painted with a substance that prevents decay and kills bacteria.

Finally the long procession of white trees standing like soldiers clears up and the first thing I see is a beautiful fountain, maybe 50 years old, set inside El Chique's town center. The locals stare at us as we slowly make our way through the tight streets and alleyways leading to the house we'd be staying in. 27 or some odd hours since Oklahoma City, we arrive and in a matter of minutes, fall asleep under clean sheets my friend's grandmother had already prepared.

The following day we leave to hike across dam that provides power and circulates water throughout El Chique. The trail leads down to a flight of some hundred short stairs that continue into a massive chasm, cut off from a nearby lake by the dam. There, the misting water spews from that massive wall of concrete and allows foliage to grow, even in the humid summer. I take a seat on a slick rock and let my feet settle in the refreshing, crystal water. All around me are bushes and flowers poking out of an 80 ft. tall rock face. Nearby I can see a series of caves following the river's winding torrent downstream. The pictures I took will never do justice to how beautiful El Chique is.

Our next stop is a larger city called Calvillo. Here I notice the prevalence of Catholicism in the buildings and people. Shoe shiners were hard at work and nearby three Rancheros looked on. Four or five others played guitar in elaborate sombreros. We purchased ice cream and walked through the intricate framework of shopping centers and street-side stalls. Here, merchants offered cups of freshly cut fruit, trinkets and souvenirs- but not a single American in sight to buy them. Calvillo represents a wonderful market town with modest outlying suburbs that expand slowly into the desert.

Finally we arrived in Palo Alto, the most beautiful city in Mexico as far as I'm concerned. Palo Alto in Aguascalientes is a small village located at the top of a winding mountain path nestled neatly in what looks like a rocky atoll in the desert. The village is perched beside a docile lake beached with glimmering sediment and a few fishermen. Palo Alto is a perfect example of preserved tradition. The cobblestone streets undulate from years of travel and lead into different directions throughout the mountains. Unique and dilapidated buildings pop in and out of sight as you go. We drive to the very top, hundreds and hundreds of feet above sea level and there I stood on what felt like the highest point on earth.

Before I knew it, we have to return to the states. Some lethargic reluctance hits me along with a patient happiness. I'd seen so much and experienced an incredible nation that has been so badly stereotyped by the American psyche. I'd been far away from any signs of western interference, but instead of fear or homesickness, I felt a lucid connection to the place that stays with me even now. Central Mexico holds, to me, the most illuminated and gorgeous regions in the world. I hope to return there again in the wet season when the weather cools and the vegetation springs in full. I'll never forget my experiences there and I suggest to anyone with a guide to visit these alluring destinations and find out first hand exactly how inspiring Mexico really is.