Chronicle of Malarky: The Drug Lord's Mansion

The Narco-trafficker's Mansion in the Forest

My Mexican friend, her daughter and I decided to take a long hike in a national forest somewhere around Ciudad Guzman, deep in the heart of Mexico. I had taken a little adventure trip to Mexico to see what I could see. So, here we were, looking for a hidden waterfall somewhere deep in a huge forest.

We had eaten breakfast with the locals at an open air market in the nearby town. It was a lively place, complete with dogs and vagabonds looking for a handout. It was an interesting place, where the locals gathered in the mornings. I didn't really like the lack of sanitary conditions though, and sure enough, I got the worst case of diarrhea that I'd ever had.

My friend took me to a pharmacy and got some medicine. She said she was a medical doctor, but considering all the lies she told me while I was with her, I have my doubts.
Anyway, she got some pills that helped quite a bit, and she made me some kind of traditional concoction out of maize, lemon, limes, pineapple, and who knows what else.

So, we were deeper in the forest than I expected, when I saw a mansion, sort of all by itself. Strange, why would there be such a place out here? I asked her and she kind of looked around and quietly said: "narco-traffickers." Oh, I understood.

I asked her if it bothered her, she said, "Of course not! It's you stupid American with your drug habit that feed it. For us it doesn't matter if it's corn or peas or cocaine." I'd never looked at it like that before, at least not so close up!

I found out later that people didn't really dislike these businessmen; in fact the gifts that they gave the local community were greatly, appreciated. There was a nice park in Ciudad Guzman, courtesy of whoever owned this mansion, for example. Sort of a Robin Hood outlook to the matter.

I didn't see anyone around, so I took out my camera and took a few shots of the place, after all, how often do you get to see something like this?

Then I heard a noise like a truck coming up the hill toward me. I didn't even realize you could drive on this little pathway. Oh no! I don't believe it! This time, they are going to read about me in the paper. There were six mestizos in the truck, three in the front and three in the back.

Mestizos are a mixure of Spanish and Indian and to me they always looked kind of scary. I guess it's because the only ones I'd met were fierce looking policemen in Guadalajara. To me, they all had black eyes, surrounded by red instead of white. They probably were kind-hearted fathers who read bedtime stories to their infant children, but these guys looked downright scary

So, there I was, miles from town, alone on some remote road, in a Mexican forest with six scary looking men coming toward me. Plus, my friend and her daughter had gone on ahead of me because I had stopped to stare and take pictures.

The truckful of scary men stopped when they got to me, and the three in the back jumped out. They each had a big machete in hand and they all proceeded to walk toward me. I greeted them in my better-than-average Spanish. I must have convinced them that I was a harmless, stupid American tourist because they greeted me back and sort of moved to the side and started cutting brush on the road side.

I glanced around quickly to see if any other weeds were cut down anywhere, of course they weren't! I said "Hasta luego!" and got out of there as quickly as a nonchalant acting bee-line will allow.

This was the first time in my life that I've actually thought I was going to die. All I could envision was me cut up into pieces by some ruthless, drug-addicted minions of a heartless drug lord who despised Americans.

There were several more of these mansions, but you can be sure that I was a kept my camera in my pocket and minded my own business!

www.stress-familyhealth.net

Well traveled father of eight lively children who
has had more experiences that make you just shake
your head and marvel.