II. THE TRIP: MEXICO AND ARRIVAL IN MONTERREY

For a twelve-year-old, crossing into Mexico at Reynosa was an exciting experience.  The Aduana (customs) officers were impressively uniformed and exuded old-world courtesy.  One of the officers was looking for a ride to the next checkpoint, south of Reynosa; however, my father, always exercising the utmost in caution, expressed his regrets, and we continued on our way to Monterrey.

Lunch time rolled around as we reached the halfway point to Monterrey.  Always an aficionado  of tamales since sampling some in the home of a Mexican lady in Poplar Bluff, my father was craving real Mexican food and pulled off the road at a small restaurant.  The menu was a virtual compendium of dishes, from which my father found his tamales, while I settled on enchiladas.  From a window by our table, I heard a distinctive noise of "slap, slap, slap."  Peering out the window, I saw a griddle over an open fire, above which two ladies were molding a corn mixture into tortillas, which would be grilled into the fresh, corn-based ovals accompanying our meal.  Although I did not, of course, realize it at the time, I had glimpsed an important part of the Mexican culture and the significant niche held by corn throughout virtually all the Mexican past.  In due course, as I surveyed Mesoamerican religion and mythology, I would find that corn had a very special connection with the Mexican people for almost four millennia.

Entering Monterrey late in the afternoon on a Thursday, we found the business district to be a bustling place.  My father explained to me that Monterrey was an industrial center, well known for the production of iron and steel, and also for its breweries.  As such, he said, Monterrey had been deemed the "Pittsburg of Mexico."

Our lodging for the next three nights would be at the Hotel Ancira, a classic old hotel, where it was reputed that Pancho Villa had once ridden his mount up the hotel's beautiful marble staircase. That evening, we dined nearby in a picturesque restaurant, the Louisiana, where, for the first time in my young life, I saw crepe suzettes prepared tableside by tuxedo-clad waiters.

Friday saw my father obtaining the services of a guide, a student from Monterrey Tech, who escorted us to the waterfall of Cola de Caballo, as well as to the historic seat of the Archbishop of Monterrey, and to a glass factory.

The waterfall was the highlight of my day.  It was a narrow chute, tumbling from a great height and did, indeed, remind me of a horse's tail.  The force of the water's drop was greatly magnified by a trek to the base of the falls on the back of a burro.

After a full day, punctuated by lunch at the falls, my father concluded that, since there was much more to be seen, our guide should meet us again early Saturday morning at the Ancira, and we would resume our tour of the city.

During various stops on Friday, I had seen several representations of a woman clad in a cloak, covered by what appeared to be stars and standing on top of a crescent moon.  At two locations, there seemed to be shrines to the mysterious lady.  When I questioned my father about what I had seen, he replied that, as far as he knew, they were depictions of the Virgin Mary.  However, not being satisfied with that answer, I resolved to take up the matter on the following morning with our guide.

After a quick meal in the hotel's restaurant, we retired early.  Saturday would prove to be another uncommon day for a twelve-year-old from Poplar Bluff.