Mayhem in Mexico!

During Spanish class Mike Svob, our teacher extraordinaire, mentioned that there was going to be a FIESTA in Nogales, Sonora, the weekend of my mother’s birthday.

Even Mexico was celebrating Mom’s 90^th!  How marvelous.  Man!  When life is good, it’s really really good.  Unlike Mae West.  When she was bad, she was even…ah, you know.

Their Winter Festival would be featuring live music, handicrafts, food, drink and a variety of expositions, including art, theater and photography centered in downtown areas such as The Plaza Pesqueira, Calle Campillo and Pasaje Morelos.

The only thing missing was the birthday girl!

So, the group of eleven of us caravanned our way down to the border.  Mike Svob, our quiet and unassuming sweetheart-of-a-teacher apologetically said, “You can all follow me, but I have been accused of driving a little pokey.”

Let’s just say that if Mike ever decides to move to Italy, he could easily make Mario Andretti or any other race car driver ashamed to even call themselves Italian.  And if you’ve ever driven on their autostrada at their normal 100 miles per hour, you’d think going down the Matterhorn with waxed skis was child’s play.  That Manhattan Cabbies were passive.  This guy hauled “AS*!” Know what I mean?  Talk about putting the pedal to the metal!

It’s always those gentle, quiet guys you need to watch out for!

Since we didn’t know the cars everyone was driving, I took quick notes of all the license plates in case someone, like maybe..us, got lost, while Mike made his getaway. 

We met at a designated spot, parked the car and ventured into Mexico. 

We followed our Jefe (chief, head-honcho and beloved teacher), Mike Svob, like little ducklings as we meandered around the town. 

We stopped off at the tourism office and was lead into a little square where vendors gave each of us a green tote bag and filled it to the brim with brochures, magazines and even a cute little hand-made ashtray. 

What a welcoming touch!

Heidi Goldman, Helene Goldman and our Jefe~ Mike Svob

I, of course, was ready to have some lunch.  Mike said reservations were for two o’clock. It was only eleven-thirty. I frowned. You try telling that to my stomach.  We ventured into pastry shops, book shops and a beautiful, old church and side streets with food vendors.

La Iglesia de la Virgen Purisima

Erika, Helene Goldman and Heidi Goldman behind troubadours

Finally, and I mean finally, our beloved Jefe lead us to a bridge that had at least as many stairs as the Eiffel Tower, or so it seemed. It zigged and zagged up to the clouds, taking us above the bustling traffic so we could cross over that busy street safely to get us to La Roca for lunch.

My mother looked at all of those steep stairs and said, “Are you crazy?  Let’s make a run for it between the cars.”

Now this sounds dangerous.  Gutsy, right?

There was a long, California-like traffic delay…so, we moseyed through the vehicles confident no one would run us over since they were just about parked anyway.

Good thinking Mom!

One of the nicest restaurants in Nogales is called La Roca, The Rock.  It is built onto the side of a rock-hill. 

You enter into a large dining room with long tables for big parties, like ours. Charming, intimate rooms are off this main room decorated in bright colors and authentic Mexican décor.

Heidi Goldman, Helene Goldman, Erika and Mike Svob's Spanish Class
Celebrating Mom in Mexico at La Roca
Missing: Bobby Fabulous Photographer

After we ordered, Mike made a lovely toast to my mother.  And she in turn toasted him. He’s quite a guy and everyone loves him.  Even a mute wouldn’t have difficulty finding a few kind words to say.  He’s just that sweet.

After lunch, we walked back into town and stumbled across a group of troubadours.  

We took photos, enjoyed the music and people-watching.  We continued, following them and listened to more groups singing and watching dance groups.

My brother Bobby and niece Erika shopped until the very last minute.  The negotiations were typical.

Bob showed the store owner some things he wanted to buy. The owner asked for a king's ransom.

Mom and I were sitting on a bench in front of the store watching the wheeling-dealing taking place.  Finally my mother suggested I go in and speak Spanish with them to help my brother get a better deal since he could only habla ingles.

“How much?” I asked in Spanish.

Without blinking an eye, he said, “$65.00.”

“That’s too much.”

“I have bundled all the gifts together and came up with this great price.”

“That’s still too much.”

“Well…”

I pulled my brother aside.

“How much do you really want it?”

He looked at Erika, his daughter.  These gifts were for her husband and child.  He was stuck.

“Okay.  This is how it works down here.  Since the guy won’t budge, the price is either fantastic or we still have room to negotiate.  Let’s say thank you and walk out the door.  If he follows us, he’s ready to make you an offer.”

Bob looked worried. He knew Erika really wanted those items.  He trusted me and we walked out.

I looked over my shoulder and the salesman wasn’t there.  Darn!  That’s not exactly the word I said under my breathe, but you get the idea.

Bob and Erika went into other stores and within five minutes the guy came running out looking for the Americans.

“Okay, $60.00”

I gave him the stink-eye and so did Bob.  I think Bobby was beginning to enjoy the cat and mouse game, except when he glanced at his daughter. He worried they would go home without their Mexican treasures.  I could see it in his paternal eyes.

Bob and Erika continued shopping; Mom and I and the Spanish group continued listening to great music that surrounded us. 

It was getting late.  Erika looked down the street, looking for the store.  My heart melted.  She couldn’t go home empty handed. 

I pulled her aside. “Do you want the Mexican souvenirs?”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

Mike walked by and told us it was time to head back to Tucson.

“It’s either now or never, Red.”

“I’m indecisive.”

“I understand, but the group is leaving and we have to go through the check point together.”

“Well….”

And with that last well, the salesman came running all the way down the street holding the Mexican goods above his head.

“We're leaving. See?”  I pointed to our teacher and classmates walking away.  “If you want to sell those items, you must give us a good price now!

“Forty dollars.”

I looked at Bobby, who then looked at Erika, who then looked at my mother who merely nodded.

Whew!  That was a close one. The deal was made; everyone was happy and ready to celebrate Mom the Maven.