Gringos Globos

Part of The Underway Gourmet by Suzy O'Keefe

Several years ago, before I started cruising, I traveled to an Amethyst mine high in the hills of Guerrero, Mexico with my (then) husband. He had traveled extensively in Mexico attempting to buy gemstones & decorator pieces and had been directed to this particular area by his friend in Chilpanzingo. I flew into Acapulco to spend a few weeks of my vacation experiencing this rather unusual form of rock-hounding. I had been hooked on *pretty rocks* since the age of 3 when I discovered fossils in the gravel of my rural driveway. My father furthered this love by stopping at every wide-spot-in-the-road rock shop where ever we traveled. Besides... amethyst is my birthstone!

This particular excursion took us far off the main roads, across streams, and up steep and deeply rutted dirt trails. There we found a small but friendly village where the children quickly gathered around our vehicle to see the "gringos". Their eyes widen and laughter erupted as we began passing out the brightly colored globos (balloons) we always carried for such occasions.

Once we were able to escape balloon duty, we had a cerveza and found our contact to guide us the rest of the way to the mine by burro. His wife packed lunch for us (a pale of meat & beans and fresh tortillas tied in a handkerchief).

Scattered around the site were many broken purple crystals, but the "good stuff" was presented to us a piece at a time by the miners. Money and a few cigarets changed hands and by the time we left, everyone was happy that the Gringos Globos had come to town.

It was late in the afternoon when we returned to the vehicle. Another balloon session was necessary as well as another round of cervezas. Halfway down the mountain at a crossroads, we picked up a local from another village who was on his way to Chilpanzingo to sell his wears... carvings & trinkets he and his wife had made. He offered us some of his food and we offered him some of ours. Bad English and worse Spanish flowed as we bounced along the rutted road.

Just about dusk, a white pickup truck roared up the road flashing it's headlights and blocked the way in front of us. Six men with machine guns, UN-UNIFORMED men with machine guns , jumped out of the back of the truck with their weapons trained on us. We were all told to get out of the vehicle. Two of the men began to search everywhere inside, while the rest of the men *guarded* us. Our hitchhiker was told that he was free to leave, but he refused saying he would stay with his amigos. This was frowned upon by the ringleader. He spoke with them privately for a moment and he was allowed to stay.

They finished searching our vehicle then turned to me and the fanny pack I was wearing. One of the men went through it's contents quickly finding the $1,000 US I had flown in with. He counted it, put it back inside, and passed the pouch to the next man. Each in turn handled the pouch and counted the cash. To my surprise & temporaty relief, the 6th man returned everything to me. He then turned to my husband and asked for dinero (money). My husband pulled a 50 peso note from his pocket and offered it along with a cigarette from his pack. These were refused saying "not enough". My husband returned the cigarette pack and the 50 pesos to his pocket and said "No"!

He proceeded to tell the "junta" (military forces of one of the many political factions) that he was friends of one of the politicos in Chilpanzingo. The ring leader, of course, asked for the name. Although my husband showed no outward signs of fear, he was having trouble remembering the leaders name. After a moment he said "Juan (uh) Valdez..." hesitating and stumbling over the man's name.

I remember thinking "Juan Valdez? Oh Great! He's giving them the name of the Colombian coffee grower!!!! They're going to shoot us all!" But, out came another name, "Gonzales". "Juan Valdez Gonzales", he reaffirmed and all six men packed up their little machine guns, climbed into the back of the pickup, and roared off in the direction from which them came.

Stunned and relieved, I was shaking but couldn't help laughing at the same time. We thanked our friend for staying with us and he smiled. He played a bigger roll in this encounter than we knew at the time, playing watchdog to the actions of the junta. They could have easily gotten away with killing us, but would have angered many by killing this local.

We arrived back in Chilpanzingo well after dark. Our new friend insisted we meet his family there, his mother and 2 cousins. They invited us to share a meal with them. We gladly accepted.

It was only much later in the evening after we had returned to our lodging, that we realized he had introduced us as the Gringos Globos! He wasn't there and we hadn't even spoken of it. Word had apparently already spread down the mountain to the neighboring villages by the time we had returned from the mine. Our interaction with the children had proceeded us and may well have contributed to saving our lives even more than knowing the name of politico Juan Valdez (uh) Gonzales!