Our friend Luis from the lavadero invited us to his inlaws’ house to camp. We had no idea what to expect but thought it would be great. We followed him up the hill and down a couple of dirt roads to his family’s house. At the end of the road was what we believe to be a very typical Mexican family home. The gate to where we’d camp was two old rusty bedsprings standing up to enclose the barnyard, to keep in the four sheep, 15 turkeys, and a dozen chickens.

The barnyard was not much larger than 100’ by 50’, but it was terribly well utilitized. Besides being a barnyard for the animals it had fruit trees (avocado, mango, peach, guava, and several other). The barnyard animal smells were powerful to my nostrils, but I shut up and smiled. I knew it was a lifetime opportunity.

We followed Luis up to the main house for introductions to the family. Father-in-law Antonio couldn’t hear us too well. Mother-in-law Simona was quite old, but rose at 3am every day to make donuts and then got to the market at 8am to sell them. Luis’ wife Elvira was working diligently making some pastries for sale on Ash Wednesday at church. They’re raising money for a 6-day walking pilgrimmage to the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico City.

All the women were working with the fried pastries. It looked like a hundred rounds of dough were drying or rising, stretched over every surface in the two-room structure. They were on the tables, chairs, counters, even the TV. The pastries then were deep-fried in the self-standing, wood-fed fryer.

After the initial introductions we were ushered into the second room, dominated by a huge television showing a university soccer match. Luis explained that Mexicans spend Sunday resting and watching soccer. Or at least the men do. But the huge, decent-quality TV stood out in contrast to the room it sat in. It was part-bedroom, part sitting room. On the whitewashed stucco walls were various framed and unframed religious pictures. Blankets were stacked against one wall and there was a single queen-sized bed, the TV on its wooden stand, two chairs. And then Luis brought out the cold Victoria beer. What a treat!

The family was very poor in many ways. They did have electricity and they have water in the cooking area, but no plumbing in the house. The toilet was a hand-flush affair, where you take a bucket of water to it and flush it that way. Laundry was hand-washed at the family lavadero (and the women must clean several sets of clothes daily, since the boys play sports and go to school).

There we were sharing ice-cold beers with a man we had just met. Luis’s heart was as large as any we’ve ever seen. He gave us the chance to experience what it’s like to live in the middle of Mexico in the year 2003.

We excused ourselves to go hang out our wet laundry on the clothesline in the barnyard. Randy and Luis continued to chat and share a beer while I worked away hanging the clothes on the line, pretending to be a good Mexican woman. Our clothes dried nicely on the line, but would smell like the barnyard until the next washing.