Valle de Bravo

On the weekend of the 19th to the 21st of February, I, along with an exceptionally large and eclectic mix of individuals, went to a Mexican friend's holiday house in Valle de Bravo. Just a two hour drive from Mexico City, the lakeside town is a popular weekend getaway for the coin-laden. Indeed, since the entire drive follows a toll road, by the time you actually get to Valle de Bravo, you will have forked out half your retirement savings to a series of gloomy booths, manned by listless middle-men who do math faster than Scotty Nguyen on crack. Fortunately, Valle is well worth the journey, surrounded by verdant forests, and providing a welcome respite from the industrial oppression of the city.

The house in the daytime

The line-up on the first night was, if I remember correctly, four Mexicans, three New Zealanders, a Singaporean, and a Swede - or as I like to call it, the readership of my blog. Also there were of course the parents - of the girl who invited us that is, not everyone who came. After getting unpacked and being treated to a dinner of tacos and frijoles - something like chili beans, we all descended upon a small spa pool a few minute's walk from the main house, and settled in for the night.

Those microhydrology-architecture experts among us will know that spa pools have a way of bringing people together. Their circular shape, forcing people to look at each other, provides physical parameters conducive to inclusiveness. And the hot water, contrasted with the cold night, offers serious incentives not to leave, much like the seemingly benevolent FBI agent to the apprehended cheque-fraudster. Throw alcohol and a guitar into the mix, and the result is a five hour marathon of truth-telling, inebriation, and god-awful singing.

One of the less cringe-worthy spa pictures taken

The following morning, a few of us went to play paddle ball on the court they have at the house. Paddle ball is basically a mix between tennis and squash, which is another way of saying that play-time is divided between losing the ball and never finding it again ever, and nearly giving yourself a concussion by hitting the ball against the wall in such away that it flies back at you and misses your head by half the width of a proton.

Still, it's dynamic!

I soon retired from the court, and decided to explore the property a little more.

I was delighted to discover that a pig had been procured, and lived full-time on the ranch. Normally, at the places I visit, I am the only pig there.

Pig and I

Filling out the animal ranks were birds, rabbits, and dogs, though none captured my heart so much as the chubby swine.

Later on in the day, more people arrived. Another New Zealander, another Singaporean, three more Mexicans, a Dutchman, and a Belgian. That night, a drinking game was played, whose perversion and prurience was exceeded only by the number of cigarettes smoked, somewhere to the tune of three tobacco fields. I think I inhaled enough second-hand smoke to give lung cancer to my grandchildren. Be that as it may, fun was had, and the night concluded, as most nights do, with dancing.

The next morning, I had been hoping we would visit the Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary, located about an hour out of Valle de Bravo. To my intense dismay, the decision was made not to go, ostensibly on account of the butterflies not 'being there.' Naturally, 'the butterflies won't be there' is a code term for 'everyone is extremely hungover' -  you don't have to be a Nazi code-cracker to break that one. Accepting the decision like an adult, I opted instead to go for a walk alone in the forest, which I had wanted to do since I arrived.

Walking alone in the forest in many parts of the world is a gamble - either you leave spiritually fulfilled and at peace, or inside the digestive system of a bear. In Valle de Bravo, only the former was an option, since to my knowledge, the only dangerous creature in the woods was me. It was an invigorating experience, as the air was fresh, the flora varied, and all was totally quiet. I ambled along, talking to myself in three languages, and reflecting on life, about the only three activities it is acceptable to do when you are alone in a forest.

The experience wasn't just good, it was too good. I would have stayed in the woods for longer had we had more time.

Before we left, photos were taken. Here, to conclude the entry, are a couple of photos of all of us all together by the pond.

A huge thanks to Jimena and her family, who invited us all, and to Valle de Bravo, for being padrísimo.