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Slow Times in Mixtlan, Mexico

Coupling up has a whole different meaning in 'real' Mexico

By Maribel Rosas

I didn’t know how tough my senior year of college was going to be. What I thought would be a year of drinking, partying, and fun-filled memories had turned into sleepless nights, article deadlines, and an abundance of stress. I knew I had to do something reinvigorating for Christmas vacation.

As I was taking a break from homework, I decided to look up flights to Mexico. My father walked through the front door as I was searching, and in my nicest voice, I asked him if he would pay for my plane ticket. “Here’s my credit card. Book it before you change your mind.” Okay, hold on. Was he serious? Or was he joking? I didn’t know what to make of it until he assuredly told me he was being serious. My face lit up.  Both of my parent’s know how hard I work at school, so this was their way of showing me that my diligence had paid off.

My parents were born in two pea sized ranches located only a mile apart from each other in Jalisco, Mexico. As excited as I was to go back to my roots and visit family members I had never met, I was really nervous. How was a city girl like me going to adjust to the rural Mexican lifestyle? I mean, Santa Rosa, which is where my mother is from, is completely surrounded by mountains, and the nearest grocery store is thirty minutes away. Less than one hundred people live there, and people still milk their own cows, make their own cheese, and kill the chickens they plan on eating for dinner. The roads are paved in rocks and at the wee hours of the morning you can hear horses and cows roaming through streets, hoof against stone. The ranch my father is from, El Cimarron Chico, is not much different than Santa Rosa, except that about two hundred people live there. It is known to many people as the place where they make raicilla, a special type of tequila.