ROCA PARTIDA (Golfo de México)
Donde fuimos invitados de la naturaleza
We had left behind Tlacotalpan (Veracruz), the town of son jarocho las casitas
of colors and heat by the river. We had eaten seafood in
a roadside restaurant, under a palapa, while thousands of dragonflies flew around us.
Thus began the route to reach our destination before nightfall: Roca Partida. Few foreigners know this corner of the Gulf of Mexico, lost at the end of a beautiful road that snakes through a kind of tropical midlands. Veracruzanos like to enter this humid place from time to time, escaping from everything, breaking the connection with their lives. We parked the car at the top of a hill. Don Norber stopped cutting bananas with his machete and showed us the cabins where we were going to sleep. We ran down to the beach so as not to lose the last ray of light. Night fell fast on us and the real owners of the arena came out to greet us. Blue crabs of all sizes scampered between our feet. Just a few lights in the fishing village illuminated the beach. No restaurants, no coverage, no stores. Just a trickle of stars lighting up. The boys made a bonfire outside
cabins and we prepare sandwiches with ham, cheese and chili. We all sat around the fire. It wasn't the body that needed to be warmed up. Oswaldo's guitar sounded all
the night and the dry blow of Héctor's hands on the kettledrum accompanied him. We sing for hours. Our voice echoed in the bay. finally tired
To bear the weight of that night, we lay on our backs. I don't remember ever seeing such a huge sky
about me. The more you looked, the more shapes, patches of nebula, and shooting stars you saw.
In Roca Partida it is difficult to sleep late: the sun shines through the windows of the cabins early on. We took the first bath of the day. The crabs were hidden, but hundreds of pelicans had occupied the beach, constantly darting into the water in search of fish. The sea turned on itself and we did not know which was north and which was south. We took a boat ride. We bordered the islet of split rock, the top of an underwater volcano, and stopped at a small beach. Clara saw a manta ray underwater and thousands of sea urchins We returned to the village jumping over a calm sea. We walked to the river, which brought cold and clean water. And we bathe to take the sun off us. At lunch time, Don Norber made us fish
chilled in the fire, next to his house. The hanging clothes were allowed to rock by the wind.
In the afternoon, we went up to the lighthouse on a path, crossing meadows25 tall grass where the cows passed by. A
film crew was shooting a movie on that same set. We approach the precipice
. The round horizon split in two at that cape. The green mountains fell to the sea. It started to rain and we had to quickly return to the cabins. An electrical storm raged on the nearest peaks. was claim
as if the gods were throwing orange rays at each other. We had never seen anything like it.
That night our companions were the toads who, daring, jumped
to the entrance of the cabin. The next day, we headed back to the most populous city in the world, Mexico City. But we will never forget the two days we spent at Roca Partida, where the earth looks like a map and claims its space: the sea, the animals and the green.