Alamos - Day Two

One thing I have learned being here in Alamos is that world has become a much smaller place.

Sleeping last night was not as painful as I was expecting. The fan on me kept the heat of the night away; although I cannot say the same thing for mom and dad. Their night was miserable – and I felt bad. They were up many times drenched in sweat pondering the idea of returning home today. But alas, the purchase of a fan today would save the day – and our vacation would allow to continue. After a quick cold shower, we were off to see what the day had in store for us.
We started out for breakfast – Restaurant Reyna – a place one of Dads friends we should try before leaving town. Mom and dad become instant friends with everyone we spend more than 5 minutes with - which is very cool. Breakfast was great – Reyna and her family was great - and we were off to see about the ‘tour train’ we had heard about.


When we came about the place where we had heard the train starts, there were many people waiting – not sure what they were waiting for, but they were waiting. As we were going to investigate, we were stopped by a large jolly Mexican man welcoming us to Alamos. I had noticed a ‘tour guide’ tag around his neck thinking he was the tour train guy. He told us he did tours around the city himself, but he was not affliated with the tour train. He said if we were looking for a personal tour around the city, he could get us into a few haciendas around town and basically, his tour would be much better than the trains. So, at 10 bucks a head, we agreed to it. Meet Joe, our Alamos tour guide.


Joe was extremely thorough in his tour. The first part was walking through the church and a few surrounding homes and buildings. Very cool stuff! The last part took place in our car – driving with Joe in the front seat guiding us through the city. The history of Alamos is amazing – a silver mining town back in the olden days, home to Hollywood celebs like Carroll O’Connor, Paul Newman, and Mickey Mantle, and because of the mining, many ethnicities are apparent through the people on the streets; namely the Chinese influence. We eventually ended up back at the beginning and about as fast as he appeared, Joe was gone. We were sad we forgot to get his picture. He made our time here so much more enjoyable. The rest of the afternoon consisted of wrong turns, major amounts of water or Gatorade, major amounts of heat, touring the museum which was awesome, finding the cyber café, more water, purchasing a fan, and water.


Funny thing happened on the way to cool off at the OXXO … Mom and I were walking when a very American-looking woman walked by into the store. After a few moments she left the store while Mom and I were still talking outside the store. She turned and said to us, “Where are you from?” Mom started to explain the normal run down I have heard – they from Guaymas, me from the States, missionaries, vacation to Alamos, never been, etc. We found out that she came down here, tired of the rat race of the states and decided to make it her new home. “What is your name?” Mom asked. “My name is Linda Kneivel.” ...second cousin to Evel. Pretty cool, huh?


We were invited to the church service at the church that owns the house we are staying in. We only thought it right to go as a thank you. The church was fairly new, yet service was held in their outside plaza area under a thatched roof where it would be cooler. It is interesting when you think about a two hour church service held completely in a language you don’t know. There is only so much time that you can think about everything going on in your life. So after contemplating the meaning of life, you just start hoping that it will end soon. And that’s no disrespect to the pastor – he was a great guy and very friendly - but 2 hours of words you cannot understand has a tendency to drive one a little crazy. The service was over, lots of hugs and handshakes, and we were off to the Mercado to eat and do some more people watching.



Another place we were told to find was ‘Taco Flora’. After a quick walk around the plaza area, we found it. Homemade tortillas made right in front of you and carne asada was the name of the game. And it was amazing! Sitting alongside the truck, we ate, constantly aware of the traffic buzzing a few feet behind us. Flora; a sweet woman. After an amazing meal, we trucked across the street to the ice cream shop. One thing I realized tonight was although we were eating out; most of the food we were eating was like eating in someone’s kitchen. That’s how it’s done here. It’s how anyone would make the food – no McDonalds or Burger King here. It is refreshing. Although I’m still not ‘completely’ normal, I can eat normal and the food is good.


Coming home, we happened upon a group of boys on ‘our bridge’ to the house. We settled in to transfer pictures, blog, and unwind from the heat of the day in front of our fans. The boys were getting loud but they just left, leaving the osund of a few trucks speeding by, the sound of our fans speeding to cool us off – and Jane Olivor. Holy cow. Over Dad’s little computer speakers was coming this amazing voice I had not heard for close to 30 years. You see, Dad used to have all of us kids sit in front of the record player and listen to music. This nightly family gathering is the place I could only guess this is where my love of music was born. We had to be perfectly quiet as many times, he was recording a record onto a tape, and the recorder was such that it could pick up other sounds in the room, not just the music. So silence was of utmost importance. We listened to the entire First Night album like we had done so many years ago. I now have the album on my iPod so I can share it with my kids – just a piece of my upbringing. Such good memories. Tomorrow will be souvenir buying, picture taking, more water, heat, driving in circles, and water; a perfect end to a perfect stay.



Note: An American woman down the way heard the boys and called the cops – the boys had disbanded before the cops showed up. It is illegal to drink in public here – only in the bar and in your home – so the boys (18 is the drinking age here) try to find places to hide to drink.