Out in the West Texas Town of El Paso

There’s an old saying in Texas: “No matter where you are coming from, when you reach the Texas border, you are halfway there”. Connie and I found out that the old saying works in the converse. It’s a long way out of Texas. There’s a whole lot of nothing to look at too.

With the Camry loaded to the gunwales, we headed west on Interstate 10. Had we been driving a 1921 Oldsmobile flatbed truck, we could easily been mistaken for part of the Clampett family. We lacked only a few items and a rocking chair on the roof.

It was nightfall when we finally reached El Paso. It didn’t take long to round up a Motel 6 and call it a day. We unloaded a few essential things and “un-laxed” before retiring.

We were tired but not as tired as the night on our trip back west to San Antonio from Memphis. It was a tad later than we had desired by the time we called it quits one night. So, when we finally found a motel that didn’t charge an arm and a leg and your collection of fine china, we dragged out carcasses and our essentials into the motel room. When we ready to depart the next morning, we were quite shocked to find that I had left one of the doors to the Camry wide open with some very important stuff left to dry out. Talk about goofy tired! And, talk about blessed! We weren’t missing so much as a matchstick or a mud pie!

When we greeted the new day in El Paso, and after I had sucked down an adequate amount of Motel 6’s nasty version of hot black java, we decided to go exploring. Why not; El Paso is just across the Rio Grande River from Juarez, Mexico (you know; that place where all of our landscapers and farm workers come from). Plus...it was our day off.

Actually, we weren’t going into a foreign country on the blind. I had been to Juarez before and am familiar with an orphanage located ten miles to the southwest. So, it seemed like a good idea to just mosey on over there and say “Howdy” to the director, John (whose last name has escaped me for the moment).

However, “moseying” in Mexico can be an interesting proposition. There were no problems getting across the border. The Federales motioned us through like we were Gonzalez’s. But, I hadn’t been to Juarez in 7 years. I took what I thought was the correct road that led to the orphanage. However, I was just a couple of blocks south of the one that I needed to be on. In America, that’s no big deal. You can usually just hop on over a few blocks and get on down the road. That’s not the case in Juarez, Mexico. That minor oversight led to what could have been a “real adventure” in Mexico.

The route began in downtown Juarez and headed west. That seemed easy enough. But, things got really complicated and goofy really quickly. To make a long story longer; we took the “scenic rout” out of Juarez to the orphanage. We found ourselves in some “very interesting” neighborhoods all too soon. The unpaved roads were deeply rutted and even dangerous. We’re not talking a few potholes here. We’re talking major unimproved territory where horses almost fear to tread. Had we not been paying attention or been motivated by fear and haste, we could have easily broken an axel or tire. That would not have been a good thing.

At first it appeared that we couldn't get there from here. The roads simply stopped at the edge of a hill. Eventually, we found a real road that hadn’t been built when I had last been there. We jumped on what seemed like the only pavement on the west side of Juarez and zipped right on over to Anapra, the small suburb near the orphanage.

Well….somewhat near. Things are not all that easy in Mexico. I remembered most of the waypoints up to the bluff where the orphanage sat above the town. In not too long a time meandering about in the unpaved harsh desert environment, we happened upon a guarded gate. Huh…a fence and a guarded gate in the middle of the desert? That definitely wasn’t there 7 years ago! “Habla English?” I asked in my best Spanish. How did I know the answer to that dumb question? It wasn’t like I was at Wal-Mart. Of course, the two armed men didn’t speak English. They didn’t have to speak any language for that matter. They were too far out in the desert where humans were optional.

After mentioning the orphanage, the two armed almost-banditos politely ushered us through the barrier and pointed off into the distance. Thankfully, they must have been drawing a steady paycheck or our back seat and trunk full of goodies would have supplemented their annual income.

At first I didn’t recognize the orphanage. I knew about where it was but the topography had changed somewhat. Finally, we drove down the long road to the place and found that it was right where they had left it.

There were major improvements including the completion of their big church building and a few new buildings on the property. It looked great! They even had electricity (electricity is good!)! They had their own generator until recently and only had light at night for a couple of hours or so.

It was good to see John again. He looked at lot less stressed than the last time I saw him. At one time he and the orphanage has been under the auspice of “Arbol De Vida” (“Tree of Life”) ministries in El Paso. He was now an independent operation with much help from some of the churches and such in El Paso.

He was quite pleased to know that he had been remembered and that we cared enough to visit. He simply doesn’t get many visitors due to the logistics. When we asked about the new gate, John explained that there had been some sort of territorial dispute between a notorious but wealthy land lord and the Mexican state. The matter ended up in court where the land loon (sic) lost the case. However, due to his influence in local politics and his wealth, he was able to simply cordon off a vast chunk of land and oust the legal residents and property owners off “his property”. The orphanage had been spared (sounds like God to me). We visited for a short while then had to head back to civilization. He invited us to stop in any time. We can do that.

On the trip back to Juarez, I noticed where I had made the error in navigation and made due note. What a differnce a block makes. We then entered the massive queue of vehicles trying to cross the border. It could have been a long day but, for some reason, the traffic was moving steadily along and we soon were back in the good Ol' US of A. Of course, the Mexicans hijacked the touristas at the border with a 2.95 toll to cross the bridge. It’s not unlike inviting the citizen’s of the town to a free opera. Then, when they find out that they are listening to the world’s worst soprano, get charged to leave the building.

The “Border Patrol” took one look at Jed and Aunt Pearl and their load of stuff and began to ask questions. It was a good thing that they noted that we had only been in Mexico a couple of hours. That was probably a key point. Otherwise, they were going to be tied up for days taking inventory of stale cookies, chips, Diet Pepsi, gifts, travel maps, and a ton of miscellaneous items that make for a comfortable road trip. Actually, I think it was entirely Connie’s innocent face as to why they let us go so soon. She simply doesn’t look like a “bad guy”. They waved us through.

In just a short while, we were on I-10 and headed for an aircraft museum not far away in Santa Teresa, N.M. Now were talking!