This is Weekend Vacation.

So here we are on Friday afternoon. It was beautiful outside, but we're inside. This is what we do every afternoon: listen to spanish music and other spanish speaking programs, all the while trying to figure out what is being said or sung. Yet, while we are inside....


... what we're really dreaming about is this:


Thanks be to God: Dreams do come true. So on Saturday morning, we all gathered a day-pack and headed south. We had been invited to the "summer home" of a friend of the program-- a summer home nestled in a valley among mountains; a summer home with a pool, a tennis court, and enough greenery and palm trees to make Adam and Eve wonder whether they are at home.

Problem is, though, getting there.


You see, in Mexico, the police are a very corrupt bunch. And, well, when driving in Mexico, you must be prepared to be pulled over at any time. Because, well.... we were.

Here's how the story goes: We're driving to a rural spot in south central Mexico. All ten of us seminarians and father are in a rental van. The rental is being driven by a friendly Mexican rental van driver. We're minding our own business, enjoying the passing mountains and rolling hills and all the little villages speckling the landscape. Then, "Rrreeeerrrr." A police pickup truck is in the rearview mirror, flashing his lights and tweeting his siren.

I've been in this situation before. And it never ends up good. My stomach churns: this is Mexico. Not only is this not going to end up good. We're all going to go to jail.

So we're pulled over on the side of a highway (which, by the way, is paved and pretty well maintained. I was surprised....). And the Federal Policia patrolman walks up (in that condescending way which only police officers can do when they're walking up alongside your pulled-over vehicle) and he talks to our driver in a language which might have been spanish. His mouth should have been pulled over for speeding.

Anyway... the policeman takes our driver's license and tells him to drive the van to the police station up the road. (Yep, we're all going to jail. I don't want to die. Please, God, no death today, please?).

We start making a top ten list: Top Ten Things NOT to Say to a Mexican Cop. Number Ten: "Yes, officer, I knew that my brake light was out. That's because I have stuffed it with cocaine."

Up the road, we pull to a make-shift police station. Basically, it is where the shoulder is wide enough to comfortably hold the police officer's victims. I feel like a fish in a barrel. He asks our driver to get out of the car. They talk. The police man asks Father to step out of the vehicle. (No, you can't take him. If you take him, I'm gonna... I'm gonna.... I'm just gonna sit here for a while, ok.)

This is in serious jeopardy.


They talk for about fifteen minutes. During this time, a couple of stray dogs start playing in the highway. In my mind, I'm placing bets with myself: How many minutes until one of them gets run over. I'm saying four. All of us in the van are glued to this temporary attention diversion. We don't want to watch, but we are mesmerized. A car comes within inches of hitting one of them (using the plural in that case may be an exaggeration). The dog yelps and runs away from the street with its tail between its legs.

Craig is certain that this dog does this every day. I wouldn't be surprised.

So we go back to wondering what is happening with our father and our driver. They're still alive and un-handcuffed. That's good. Maybe we should pray a Rosary. We start praying. Father comes back. Then the driver. He reaches into his wallet and then goes back outside to the police. And, just as quickly, he returns to the van. And we're off!

NO JAIL TIME!!! WE'RE ALIVE!!! HAH HAH, COPPERS! DON'T MESS WITH THE ESTADOS UNIDOS!!!!


Well, as we drive for a while, we learn that-- as is common practice here, apparently-- the driver was pulled over for no reason, other than that he was driving a van full of people. And, well, in Mexico, a van full of people means a van full of people with pockets-- pockets that have pesos in them. So, we were pulled over for no reason-- that is, until the police officer made a reason: "umm, you're driving a rental vehicle without such and such a (made-up) license. This is a fine-able crime that will cost you 25,000 pesos"-- the equivalent of 2500 dollars.

Yes, that's right. The cop wanted $2,500 from us.

But that's how it goes here in Mexico. The cops can do whatever they want. Yet, you see, they don't expect to get that much money from us. What they are expecting is for us to pay them off. Yes, to bribe them. So the driver gives him 500 pesos (that's $50 American) and we're on our way. That's how it works: you're pulled over for no reason, the cop makes up a charge, he then comes up with an exuberant number for the amount of money required to pay the fine, and then you slyly pay a bribe. He pockets the cash. You avoid a Mexican jail.

Case in point: on the way to pick us up, our same driver driving the same van (sans seminarians) was pulled over again. Not for speeding, not for having a bad license or brake light, but because he drove a van that could have had many people in it (again with cash in their pockets). This time, though, the police realized the empty van (and thus the lack of money) and sent our poor driver on his way. Apparently, he wasn't worth the effort.

Maybe we should have just gone by goat.


Well, eventually we made it: vacation time! Here's Craig in a hammock:


And me on a bed, outside, among palm trees, a pool, and a hot tub. Now all I need is a drink with an umbrella in it. Excuse me, Garcón...


Here's Craig and Tony after lunch (which is really dinner). Food comas are fantastic.


And here's Joe playing with the dog-that-never-let's-go-of-the-tennis-ball. How do you say "Give me that ball, you flea-infested canine?" in español?


And, of course, no vacation home would be complete without it's own swim-up bar. Something tells me this is not your standard Mexican home....


Mmmmm.... what a weekend. Simple relaxation under the sun with suds, buds, and a pool. Learning spanish has never been so.... educational.

And now it's late, so I'm going to bed. Tomorrow brings classes! Ay carumba!!!