Celaya and Pastor Pablo #2

Sunny Celaya, where the sun is always shining

I had planned our trip in such a way that our exposure to the smog of Mexico City would be as brief as possible. After three days with Rosario and David, Ruth and I departed for Celaya, in the State of Guanajuato to visit Pablo and Niky.

Because of our luggage, Rosario flagged down a taxi and we rode to the bus station. Some of you might remember taking the all-night bus from Jerez to Mexico City. Upon arrival in M.C. you alighted at the North Bus Station and this is where we caught our bus north to Queretaro where we would turn west to Celaya.

Bus Service in Mexico:
My greatest concern as I traveled on a bus when I first came to Mexico in 1981 was finding a toilet when the bus stopped. In those early years bus travel was the pits. Third class busses will take you anywhere, even places you don’t want to go, just ask Dan and Eva. Over the years I had lowered the priority of cost saving and instead of economizing, inspected the bus lines for built in toilets. Sometimes they had the last laugh when the ticket agent assured me the bus had a toilet on board but later when I needed to use it, the driver, ”couldn’t find the key.”
Ya, right! I was having none of that on this trip, age justifying an upgrade. We decided to travel on Primera Plus Bus Line, executive coach style. And why not? There was only a few dollars between the prices.
Us Airways had frowned when I had asked for a free glass of water on the flight into M.C. from Charlotte but as we boarded our bus, Primera Plus loaded Ruth down with drinks of our choice, sandwiches, which I didn’t eat, and packs of snacks. The seats fit even a large fella like brother Don. Unfortunately this bus line does not travel throughout Mexico but where it does, it’s your best choice. Instead of crowding 52 passengers into the bus like Omnibus de Mexico does, our bus had 28. Large, seats with plenty of legroom. The bus was full and we enjoyed our 3-½ hour ride to Celaya.

Arriving, we waited in the executive lounge till we saw Pablo’s friendly face smiling at us as he walked across the station. Pablo’s friend, a taxi driver, had the family van waiting for us outside the station. Pablo informed me that thought he had, had an excellent Drivers Ed teacher, me, he still was reluctant to drive in downtown Celaya, a city about the size of Des Moines.
“Didn’t I teach you good enough?” I chided Paul. “Don’t you remember anything I taught you about driving the old Jeep in 1996 during your freshman year at the Bible school?”
“Yes I remember. But you taught me on the back roads around Jerez, not in Zacatecas City,” was his reply. He had a point.

A thirty-minute drive brought us to Colonia San. Juanico where Pablo and Niky live. In August 2008, they had been transferred from Huchinango, where it rains almost every day and the chill rain blew into their living quarters, to the home where Niky lived as a teenager with her family. Her father had since given the house to their church denomination but she said it was wonderful to be, “back home again,” even though her parents no longer lived in Celaya.
Niky and her children:
Niky was still confined to bed rest in their bedroom when we arrived. A baby boy had been delivered ten days before by cesarean section. Pablo had emailed us about the impending birth before we left Lancaster and Ruthie was eagerly waiting to hold the baby. Ruth always laughs at me saying I am afraid to hold a baby lest I let it fall. She’s right, I am. She wasn’t, and enjoyed every opportunity to do so over the next six days. Since then the poor chap had a hernia operation during the week of March 19th but thankfully is now doing fine. Isn’t it nice that God does not pull back the vale of time and allow us to see all the unpleasant moments we will need to pass through? Would you like to “know” the future, including them? I think not.

We found five-year old Jaci to be a friendly, talkative sprite, every ready to listen to a book or play a game. Not a restful child but an intelligent, pleasant one. Seldom grumpy, a mirror of what Niky must have been like as a child. Jaci delighted in having us walk the five blocks with her to school in the morning and “pick her up” at 1PM. Kinder, as they call Kindergarten in Mexico, is compulsory.