Mexico, France and Serendipity
April 24, 2004
While searching for rare birds in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas, Pat and I were driving west of Mission, TX on Hwy 83, when we stopped along the highway to scan for hawks. Looking south across the Rio Grande into Mexico, I noticed an odd-looking structure on the horizon in this unpopulated part of Mexico. This tall, thin, limestone-colored, oblique-shaped structure did not appear to be any kind of building, habitation, windmill or water tower, so I was intrigued. What in the world could it be? I was determined to find out, so we turned south at Rio Grande City, and crossed the bridge into Camargo, Mexico. After explaining to the Aduana, “Camargo no mas,” we drove through the narrow streets of old Camargo, past the city plaza, and found Mexican Hwy 2 that runs along the Mexican side of the Rio Grande River between the Gulf of Mexico and Lake Amistad.
Turning SE we followed the busy, narrow highway, stopping frequently to scan the horizon for the structure we were seeking. Pat began to wonder out loud about the “wild goose chase” that we were on, but by now I “had the bit in my teeth,” and was determined to find this elusive goal. I thought about asking some local citizen for directions, but remembered our experience with such inquiries in Mexico -- which generally waste time and seldom provided accurate information. (On the other hand, we sometimes use this ruse as an excuse to chat with the friendly, helpful Mexicans – but then, we mostly ignore their directions.) Besides, I did not know how to describe the object of our search, especially with my less-than-masterful command of the Spanish language.
Turning SE we followed the busy, narrow highway, stopping frequently to scan the horizon for the structure we were seeking. Pat began to wonder out loud about the “wild goose chase” that we were on, but by now I “had the bit in my teeth,” and was determined to find this elusive goal. I thought about asking some local citizen for directions, but remembered our experience with such inquiries in Mexico -- which generally waste time and seldom provided accurate information. (On the other hand, we sometimes use this ruse as an excuse to chat with the friendly, helpful Mexicans – but then, we mostly ignore their directions.) Besides, I did not know how to describe the object of our search, especially with my less-than-masterful command of the Spanish language.
Anyway, we continued our search -- stopping frequently to scan the horizon – till there it was! At least there was a green sign that read, “Monumento Sta Gertrudis” with an arrow pointing south to a largely ungraded dirt road. The word, “Monumento” put my mind into high gear. That’s probably what I had seen from the US side of the border – a monument. But what would a monument be doing way out here? The road continued south and turned into a discouraging, sort of turn-row at the end of a field, but again we persevered. Mounting a rise in this field-road, we got our first glimpse of the top of the monument. From there, it was only a matter of aiming our Honda at this landmark. Some turns were necessary, but we continued as best we could on narrow, dirt tracks, around the edge of fields and hoped no locked gate would impede our progress. (Note: a few years later we again visited Sta Gertrudis with my brother, John and his wife, Linda and the road seemed much better.)
 |
| John, Pat and Linda Sterling |
The monument was big! It was also well-kept. A sign at the base explained the reason for its existence. It was a monument to the defeat of the French army of Emperor Maximilian by the Mexican army. This trip took place back in about 1995, so I do not remember all the particulars of the battles, but apparently, one of the major French-Mexican battles was fought at this site of Santa Gertrudis.
Why were we ignorant of this important event in the History of Mexico? OK, so maybe I should have paid more attention in Mr. Dugan’s history class instead of focusing on how cute Eva Casas looked. Maybe Pat had some similar excuse. Mr. Dugan may have provided us with detailed information about the history behind this monument and we were the only ones in our classes who didn’t get it. Que lastima! So, all you Mexican history buffs, please excuse our ignorance.
But, for those who may have missed Mr. Dugan’s lecture (assuming that he really did lecture on this subject) or may have forgotten, you may wish to visit this monument to rekindle your historical obsessions. Although our interest in the history of Mexico may be somewhat marginal, I found this site of considerable interest. It is also reasonably accessible from Rio Grande City. It was great fun to experience the serendipity of this accidental find.
To access the site, it is not necessary to pass through the 25-mile Aduana check-point as when leaving the “Frontera” region of Mexico. So, when you cross the border and tell the Aduana, “Carmargo, no mas” -- when your true intention is to travel to Santa Gertrudis -- the lie you tell is so small that nobody is likely to question you. My guess is that the Aduana may not know about Santa Gertrudis, so if you tell the absolute truth with “Santa Gertrudis no mas” you will only cause him consternation and delays for yourself.
So, is there some sort of “take home” message from this story? What if the French had won? Is it possible that Edinburg would have been named Bordeaux, we would have grown up with an insatiable thirst for red wine, would never have developed a fine-tuned, connoisseur’s palate for Lone Star Beer and would all speak fluent French? Is it possible that we could have developed a taste for the French cuisine that could have remotely matched our love of Mexican food? Personally, I’m glad the Mexicans won that war! Give me a Tecate, fresh corn tortillas, pollo asada, and a smiling Mexican waitress, and I’ll quickly forget those snooty French waiters and the French dinner table where there’s nary a single bowl of fresh salsa to be found.
No comments:
Post a Comment