Mother Mexico

I often cycle pass small road shrines with statues in the shape of the Mexican mother of Jesus, Guadalupe. She is also the symbolic mother of Mexico. A national icon who has changed her appearance from the ancient Aztek era to the present catholic period. One day I join a group of pilgrim cyclists to Mexico City. I pedal behind a guy who carries one of those Guadalupe statues strapped on to his back and several more of her fans pedal in the same direction as we venture into the biggest city in the world. Some are even walking to the basilica, surrounded by a tent city with Guadalupe statues and idol images, where thousands of pilgrims are cherishing the country mama.

I would like to cherish Mother Nature. I get a kind of pilgrim glow in my eyes as I cycle between two wonderful volcanoes, a smoking one on my right and a resting one to my left. In front of me I see the highest peak of Mexico, with its white face hovering far away in the mist. After a few days it is behind me and I continue to travel to the Gulf coast with its lush landscape of sea and lagoons. The force of nature is manifested in a crashing waterfall and the forceful wind strikes against me as a gigantic hairdryer on maximum heat. With heavy pedal strokes I enter the rainforest, where some kind of a medicine man guides me through the healing powers of mother earth with plants and potions.

All through this serene nature, Mexico has treated me in a very motherly manner by inviting me into her homes and work places. I stay at a couch in Cuernavaca, in a bed in La Venta and on a mattress in Puebla. I pitch my tent in a policeman’s garden, by the military checkpoint and behind the migration office. As I pack up my tent and get back on the bike I see waves of farewell before passing more waving hands that are greeting me. It is a very caring and kind country, or as the Mexicans would say, a toda madre.

Peace