We had arranged for Svetlana to meet us at the hotel for breakfast Monday morning. She brought loads of fresh fruit for us to have over the next few days, but this morning she prepared a gorgeous papaya with lime juice and sugar. Joshua had noted that in our short stay, both of our complexions had greatly improved. Must be something to the whole, fresh foods we were eating. I'll have to keep that in mind now that we're back.
We didn't inquire as to why there were a growing number of police gathering below in the parking lot, but assumed that it must have been added security for the crowd spilling out into the lot and the street between the hotel and the convention center.
After a long, relaxed breakfast we all piled into the little rental car to make our way North, over the mountain past Real del Monte, and down the other side to Huasca to see the Prismas Basalticos, which I expected to be a beautiful, natural formation. Once again, I asked the hotel to call a taxi for us to follow to the same point we had on Friday. This guy only charged us $5, but Alexandre was a little perplexed as to why we would employ a taxi driver and not even put our bags or something in the car. From my perspective, it was money well spent just to remove all the sign reading anxiety and allow me to simply focus on the other cars on the road.
The view was just as beautiful in the daylight as it had been on our first trip up the Corridor Turistico when Josh and I ventured this way in the dark. This time we were able to see a giant Christ figure standing on top of a neighboring peak, and all of the places where the guardrail had obviously been insufficient to prevent vehicles from launching over the side of the mountain. 
This would be a more interesting day out for Alexandre, having Svetlana along to talk to and to interpret for us. Through her, he told us about the Russian custom of trading anecdotes, one of which was about a group traveling a long distance from Kazakhstan who had eventually shared all of their stories but still had quite a way to drive so they started to refer to each tale by number. One traveler would exclaim, "47" and they would all think on it and chuckle. Since then, Joshua has skipped the original telling of any story but delights in randomly proclaiming "47" to make me laugh. We also enjoy using the term,"yuckely, yuckely, yuckely," which is "going, and going, and going," in Russian.
Past Real del Monte, descending the other side of the mountain, the road was only two lanes of opposing traffic and the policeman in the pick up truck behind me seemed quite willing to use his cattle guard to push me along since he could not pass. Luckily, we soon came upon a long queue of vehicles backed up behind a truck full of stone blocks so I no longer felt I was the sole cause of his impatient annoyance. As we got away from town and onto flatter country roads, we passed cactus farms, the occasional brightly colored little house, and a flock of chickens roaming into the street. Sveta was on the lookout for a bathroom and soon found an opportunity. 
I pulled the car into the drive of a large, bright orange hotel so she could run in and ask. Her Spanish sounds fluent to me and she had no difficulty communicating with anyone, apart from every now and then absent mindedly forgetting herself and speaking Russian to us or English to her Papa. While waiting there, I noticed a young man in front of the car pick up an axe and chop a few bits of wood off of a large piece of trunk and feed into a make shift grill. It looked like half of a metal drum, laid on it's side like a canoe, and supported by wooden legs. A little whisp of smoke escaped between the piles of foil packets stacked high and filling the barrel.
A moment later, we were back on the road. We passed a lovely old couple walking their wheeled cart along the street, heading home from a no doubt lengthy trip to the shop as we hadn't passed anything for miles. This was a fairly common site and I wondered if they planned a weekly walk to town to get provisions. It made me feel awfully spoiled and lazy because that seemed like such an inconvenient chore. On the other hand, the idea of spending several hours each week strolling along this tree lined alley dies have it's appeal and I'd be much healthier for it.
In no time we arrived at Prismas Basalticos. The entryway was impressive, and the men slumped here and there to collect our admission were very friendly and helpful. There was a gravel lot, a swimming pool, a snack bar, a toilet block, and a path, but we still weren't quite sure what to expect. Only a short walk down the path, an enchanting vista opened before us and I instantly fantasized about this natural wonder at one time belonging to some one, a secret in their back yard. I won't bother to describe it, as the photos will do a much better job.
As usual, I lagged behind, taking tons of photos to be sure I got a few really good ones, the others crossed over the wood and rope bridge spanning the ravine and ventured off to explore.
I caught up with Joshua and Sveta on the opposite side looking for stones to try to throw far enough out that they were still visible when they hit the water far below.
They are kindred spirits and also shared enthusiasm for tempting fate over the little pond on a narrow plank of wood, and hanging from and sliding along a zip line that, fortunately, had a stopper to prevent anyone from actually swinging out over the deep gash in the rock. |
When Svetlana went to find her father, Joshua rushed ahead and found the way down to the bottom of the waterfalls.
The climb back up all the stairs was a little tiring, especially since my legs were still recovering from dancing at the wedding. I had spent some time at the bottom taking in the rainbows and listening to the drumming of the water, so I had lost everyone. They were waiting patiently at the snack bar near the entrance, ready to move on to Real del Monte for lunch. The promise of pastes was enough to get me moving, after saying goodbye to the parrots hanging in the tree where we had parked. As we drove toward the exit, we noticed that the pool that had been empty when we arrived was now teaming with men swimming and wrestling about in their underwear. It looked like a lot of fun and I think Joshua and I both envied them a little. Svetlana didn't think they would mind me taking photos, but I declined. 
When we got as far down the road as the little grill next to the orange hotel, the wonderfull woodsmoked meat smell was completely irresistable so I turned the car around and parked alongside the concrete slab suporting a few tables and chairs. The senorita working at the tortilleria offered us the convenience of driving right up to a table but we were happy with the arrangement of seats we'd gathered at Alexandre's door, and I would've felt a little self important driving into the restaurant.
Inside the foil packet was a whole chicken with the rib cage removed, grilled for some time, with chopped cactus and pepper, wrapped in agave leaves. I am being quite literal when I say that this was the best tasting food I have ever eaten.
After we devoured our exquisite meal, we drove back up to Real del Monte to look around in the daylight and pick up sweet pastes for desert. Joshua snapped some photos on the way.
 Many buildings in Mexico have black rain collecting containers on the roof, like you see here. |
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It wasn't late but I guess all the stair climbing took it's toll. Joshua was out like a light. I took a few shots of our souvenirs from Tula, which I'd set out to show Svetlana, so I could share them with you, and worked on the blog a bit before attempting to drift off. It was hard to fall asleep knowing I'd be in Frida Kahlo's house and studio tomorrow.  |
| Complete with genuine Hidalgo dust. |
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