Los Cuerenta Casas - the Forty Houses

I packed up the bike to visit Los Cuerenta Casas, the Forty Houses.

 The road lead through the entire city and outer township and some things that were becoming common in the high traffic and habituated areas were very potholed roads, small businesses nestled between houses, houses that were either run-down or derelict and some buildings half built. I have seen a few drunks and have been approached on only two occasions after a week in Mexico, of people begging for money, compared to the United States where it happened almost every time I pulled into a McDonalds or petrol station.

 I wouldn’t say everyone is necessarily poor here either judging from the number of utes (pick-ups) and vehicles on the roads. The young people are generally well dressed and even fashionable in places, with the girls wearing tight jeans, colourful heels, make-up and bling, and the boys wearing new Texan hats and pointy boots. All appear well groomed.

 I left the city and drove the forty or so kilometres to Los Cuerenta Casas and found a ranger station with a young lad of about nineteen who motioned for me to come through the semi-blocked opening from the carpark and park next to the building. 

He spoke no English but I could see from his expression that the bike was not something he saw every day. I walked the steep 1.8kms down some fairly rough steps to a small bridge that crossed the river at the bottom of the valley, then started the steep climb to the enormous rocks that pointed individually to the sky, yet abutted to make a complete range. The front faces of the rocks are caves where the forty houses are.

The path rose steeply and switched back to eventually reveal the opening of a large cave with a mud dwelling. The dwelling had two floors and the mud walls were held in place by round timbers. In the lower floor were small doorways where, according to the ranger who was waiting there, when the enemy came and tried to attack, they had to bend down to enter the doorway and as they entered looking at the ground, they were hit on the head by the people inside. Simple but effective. There were small terrace gardens where potatoes were grown and subsequently stored in the upper floor of the building.

Two Mexican women and a murder of children (about five) came up after me and the ranger spoke for half an hour about the people who had lived here, answering questions from the women and older children. I understood almost five percent of what he said, but one of the women spoke English and explained some of what he said to me. I don’t think they really knew how little Spanish I understand.

I walked back with the women, Carolina and Sonya, the kids scurried ahead; and we talked about our lives, families and they wanted to know all about my travelling. We arrived back at the ranger building after some time and Sonya insisted I had some home made sweets made from honey and pecans. Once again the generosity of people is humbling.