The Adventures of Matt Jelly in Mexico: Part IV

[nfotxn]

Well it's Mr. Mathew Jelly himself writing again. It seems he's been spending some time lately as a homeless man but all works out in the end! I'm hoping he comes back home soon frankly, but Matt's a big boy and he can take care of himself. He promised he'd grow me a beard for when he came back. Teehee.

Hi there.

After two and a half weeks, Alex and I rolled into San Miguel de Allende, by the thumbs and by the feet. First off I'd like to thank those of you who were worried; yes, I´m still alive. We arrived a week and a half ago and I'm just recovering now- 300 kms can take a toll on the mind and the body.

From Ciudad Valles we walked on, to the waterfalls at Tamasopo, where we camped for the night with a group of bilingual students, Rio Verde, where we stayed in a 50 peso hotel room filled with cowboys and vagabonds, on to San Luis Potosi where we were supposed to (but eventually did not) take part in an anti-war protest, and then down the road a bit where we slept outside a foul smelling fertilizer plant.

The day after waking up at the shit factory, we managed to swing a ride to Quaretaro, just an hour's drive from San Miguel de Allende.

Our ride into town was nuts. This total nutjob picked us up in a rickety lettuce truck that was just a bit too big for the roads we were driving on. He kept spraying the cab of the truck because it reeked of pot. Then he asked us to roll a joint. But alas we had no suitable papers. He ended up hollowing out a cigarette, filling it with weed, lighting and smoking it, all while swerving from one side of the road to the other. But anyway, it was good and it was free.

He let us out beside the San Miguel prison and filled our arms with lettuce, which we held proudly like bouquets of flowers as we walked into town, too stoned for our own good. A group of angry school kids chased us with a stick because they thought we were hippies, me with my bandana, month-old beard and painted right shoe.

But eventually we made it into the heart of the town and sat down at the Jardin, the city's central park.

San Miguel is a strange place- it's filled to the brims with American tourists. The men wear pastel-coloured polo shirts which are tucked into their earth-tone belted shorts, sensible shoes and usually a large brimmed hat they'd never be caught dead wearing at home. The women wear big silly hats and scarves, big black sunglasses and flowing dresses, and they pretend they're in Europe.

That's what San Miguel seems like- fake Europe. Don't get me wrong, I like it, it's a neat place, but it's basically a very stylized version of Mexico that's palpable for tourists.

The first night in San Miguel we slept on a big field. At about one in the morning we were awoken by a machete weilding drunkard, who eventually realized that we weren't ‘terroristas' and graciously allowed us to sleep beside a shanty where the local pigs had chosen prior as a suitable washroom. I woke up surrounded by four giant hogs, who eventually just wandered away.

Our second night, we decided to hang out downtown. Alex and I were planning on spending 48 hours in the park awake, drawing, writing and making songs. But at about ten o'clock P.M., we decided instead to pull out a card we had been saving: we'd sleep at the Catholic church. Y´see, catholic churches will never kick you out. If you need to, you can even request sanctuary and stay there for free for the rest of your life. Alex and I settled for a nice clean spot by the front door.

At 7 the next morning we were awoken by oncoming footsteps for the morning mass. We got up, combed our hair, packed our bags and went to church. Now I've never gone to church in my life for religious purposes. For five years I studied Karate in a church basement, but that was hardly religious.

What was even stranger was that the morning mass was in spanish, so I didn't understand any of it. There was a lot of standing up and sitting down, performing the sign of the cross, getting down on your knees to pray. Very odd indeed.

But the strangest thing is that I did pray. I wasn't praying to anyone in particular, if I had to pick a deity to worship, it'd probably be the sun. I was just praying for protection- we'd been blessed so far, but money was tight and it was uncertain how much longer we would be homeless.

I've been through a lot so far on this trip- maybe when I sit down to send an e-mail it may all seem like peaches and beans, but it's not always as it seems. I see plenty of beautiful things here, but I'm scared too. There's plenty of doubt, fear and paranoia. That's not easy.

Later in the day we met a man in the park named Jesus, who had lost his leg in Dallas a few years back, some horrible violent conflict. He's now confined to a wheelchair and sleeps in the street. The mexican government gives him no support, the rich american tourists just ignore it, and his family doesn't seem to do a fuck of a lot for him either.

So, that night, we wheeled Jesus up to the front door of the church, and we all slept there and went to the morning mass again. I was exhausted after two and a half weeks of the baseless existence. Alex and Jesus left to go to the washroom. I just sat on the bench with all of our stuff and stared into the pavement, feeling a bit down and out.

Then Victor walked up the street, sat down and said "Hey Man, what's up?"

I said, "oh you know, not a hell of a lot."

"What's all this stuff wit' you man?"

"Well, believe it or not, right now I'm homeless."

I explained to him our story, and that money was coming in from Canada soon from the sale of one of my paintings, and that soon we'd be looking for an apartment, but the money hadn't come in yet.

Victor explained that he had lived in Chicago with his wife for 6 years but he got tossed out of the states because he didn't have papers. He was planning on visiting her at the border soon for a couple of weeks, and he needed someone to sublet his apartment.

So, an hour later we had a sweet pad with a television, outdoor kitchen, backyard, and BEDS! And we're paying Victor 600 pesos- that's about 100 Canadian, give or take. We've been sleeping hard, eating not just snacks but full meals, taking showers, washing our clothes. Everyone should know how wonderful those things really are.

So far we've made some good friends. We let Jesus sleep at our place the other night, and we've been helping him get around town. He repays us with his 'horticultural product' if you know what I'm sayin'. It's a good time had by all.

I don't know if there's a lesson here or not- we've found that things usually always work out at the last minute, when you absoultely need it. It happens only because it has to happen.

So now I'll be getting down to work with my art- hopefully I'll be selling some small pieces so I can afford the luxury of regular e-mailing. Until then, I wish you all the best.

Mateo

Comments

Amazing...

[tommybear.livejournal.com]

That's like my recent euro backpacking adventure, only interesting. No waking up with hogs on my trip.

Are there more enteries from Mr. Jelly if one digs back through your entries?

Linked to your LJ from teljanin. Wish Seattle had more intelligent young bearses like you *grin*

--T