Napping Near the Military

Returning to the States to sign documents, I pulled off the highway to rest, engaging four-wheel-drive. The great thing about México is that you can follow a dirt road as the whim strikes. Many times they lead to interesting places. Sometimes not.

I was tired and anxious, and found a spot behind some boulders and under a tree, shielding me, or so I thought. Bees buzzed and there was occasional murmuring, but… I sponge bathed, made up a bed in the backseat and lay down, one foot out the window. Rested.

Footsteps. A voice. “Are you okay?” in Spanish. Five young men in fatigues surround the 4Runner, but not in a hostile way. Rifles hang down at their sides and they wear puzzled looks. One gasps as I sit up, pulling the blanket higher around my bare shoulders. He looks away. I am probably his grandmother’s age.

I explain that I am fine, merely tired. They rush to tell me I can stay as long as I want. “Tranquilo,” says the soldier with the most English. “Don’t worry.” They walk away.

Christ. Should I leave? I cannot. So tired. I lay down again, meditate awhile. Sigh. Slide the surfboard back inside, eat a little, head back to the highway. From which I can see that, yes, there is a military outpost, disguised as boulders. Two desert vehicles are on point, along with 15 young men, más o menos. I laugh and pull in.

“Gracias,” I say, holding out a big bottle of guava juice. The one with the most English steps forward to take it. “Safe travels,” he says, smiling. Indeed.