Paul Theroux, an internationally acclaimed travel writer, is also the author of over two dozen novels and works of non-fiction.
I had taken a simple detour from Monterrey, as Hilário had suggested in Matehuala, a safe back road through the eastern suburbs of Monterrey and Cadereyta Jiménez.I was traveling in the area of the ranchitos and the mafia now. I headed east and then north along the edge of Monterrey, through industrial suburbs and fenced compounds of bleak tenements, east to Cadereyta Jiménez — notorious for gangs — to Cerralvo (a restaurant, a gas pump), following signs to Ciudad Mier.Sometimes, a single person, met casually on a journey, can be a powerful inspiration. Very tasty.”“The border,” I said. He has published numerous works of fiction, some of which were adapted as feature films. Lockdown Reading. A mile or so farther on, the curio shops, the taqueria where I’d once had a meal, the shop where I’d seen a pear-shaped, orange-haired piñata in the shape of Donald Trump, the plaza where I’d had a shoeshine.He listened carefully, then beckoned me into his office, nearer the warning sign. Tilting her head back, looking haughty, she was triumphant.I had marveled at this desert landscape on my trip south; it still bewitched me with its stark beauty and unexpected wildness. But she had become lost in the desert, and spotted by the Border Patrol, seized and roughed up and dumped in Nogales.
She placed a hand on each cheek, tilted her head like a stage coquette and pouted moodily.I pleaded a little, explaining the inconvenience.The deep ravines of the Mixteca Alta, farther on, were the most dramatic, the emptiest, I’d seen in Mexico.
Twenty miles away are the ranchitos, and the mafia.”Although Texas was just across the river, no gringos circulated here. Especially this week.”Her daughter by now had made me the quesadilla I’d asked for, and brought it on a plate with a cup of black coffee. An intrepid traveler, a brilliant writer, a passionate lover - she pursued H G Wells, had a child by him (Anthony West, also a writer) and had numerous affairs, including one with an American judge at Nuremburg. Then I bought an ice cream. “To the United States.”From this simplicity and rugged beauty I saw the density of Monterrey in its populous valley, the confusion of roads, the sun beating down on the mass of white, flat-topped houses that looked hot and Moroccan. After lunch go for a swim, perhaps read in my beach chair, and in the evening write for an hour or so before dinner. Taking a side route away from Saltillo, I found myself circling the steep, gravelly brown mountains that serve as the dramatic backdrop to Monterrey, so simple and shapely, with sharp peaks and knifelike ridgelines, such an amazing eruption of sierra, yet so close to the flat land of Texas just north.Two of them said they had been across, to the Texas town of Roma, about six miles away. I sometimes look at them but I tend to avoid new fiction and I only glance at recent travel books. Then he prepared my documents and wished me a good journey.“Welcome.” Three women greeted me, three generations: an old woman at a stove, her daughter busying herself sifting maize flour, the gawky granddaughter sprawled on a wooden chair — her long legs stretched out, her feet on the arm of another chair.He indicated a man in black. It’s bad there.”A stark government sign on the wall behind the man’s head cautioned me, in large black letters in two languages, “Any Attempt to Offer a Bribe or a tip to an Official is Forbidden, and Punishable by Law.”“Lots of them. This sweet soundtrack soothed me and sped me onward, past the tall grass and twisted trees.So I took an improvisational road trip along the border and the length of Mexico, from the frontier to Chiapas, with the kind of excitement I felt as a young man. The granddaughter was laughing softly, wagging her bare brown feet. I had no status except my age, but in a country where the old are respected, that was enough — more than enough.“I am the queen,” she said. High peaks rose to the southwest, and deep down, the river looked black from this height, and the valley lay in shadow. Paul Edward Theroux (Medford (Massachusetts), 10 april 1941) is een Amerikaans schrijver van reisverhalen en romans.Zijn bekendste werk is The Great Railway Bazaar (1975), een verhaal over een treinreis vanuit Groot-Brittannië door West-en Oost-Europa en Azië tot aan Japan en weer terug. I happened to be in Nogales, Mexico, to talk to migrants — and on that visit I saw a middle-aged woman praying before her meal in a shelter. Release date: October 8, 2019. He looked me up and down, seeming to make a mental calculation. I can clean your house.
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