Day 13: A return to leaves, and a horse crossing.

 If hotel of Night 11 was of munching walls, then hotel of Night 12 was truly glorious. And how the scene had been set for our gratitude in it by the previous night. Night 12 had everything we needed: functioning wifi (the whole stay!), water to refill our bottles, cleanliness, enough blankets and sheets, and yes: neon green walls. And this intricate railing and curvy arched situation.

 Classic street scene, Rayon. I admired the tired yet colorful umbrella toppers here from my seat in a little comedor, eating some rice and beans. The sweet little cook came out to talk to us, all grandmotherly.

When I was preparing for this trip, friends asked me how I would deal with people asking about "the wall" and Trump and anti-USA feelings. Almost all Mexican folks we chat with ask us where we are from, just like this sweet grandma did. And then, when we say "estados unidos", not a single person has asked about the wall. Instead, their eyes light up and they say, "I lived in Idaho for 3 years!", or "my niece lives in Miami!", or "I visited my daughter in Minnesota." And then we talk and laugh about snow or something. This is such a tribute to the connection of human beings, how these people meet us and share something we might have in common. That they've been to Idaho and Idaho is in the country in which we live. This makes me smile and warms my heart.

 As we pedaled out of Rayon, these two horses were taking an afternoon stroll through town. Completely at ease, they clopped lazily down the street. And nobody paid them any attention. Like this was just normal. Like the pig trotting through town a couple nights back, crossing a stream, heading up a steep hill on his beige pudgy own.

 Mandarin break! 1 peso each! Mandarins are the ideal Biking In Mexico snack. They come sanitarily wrapped in their own skins. They're sweet, hydrating, cheap, delicious, and easy to peel (unlike mangos, say, which necessitate a sacrifice to the gods of Stickiness).

Pedaling east now. Still with low cold clouds. The dust and scrub and brown.

 And then! After enough Eastward movement, and enough drop in elevation, we find ourselves sweeping into a world of lushness again. "GREEN!" I hollered at Ellie from my bike. The big leaves! The errant banana plants! The grass replacing dirt! I took a deep breath in, feeling the green and the life like a hug around my soul. We're now back to only 1200 ft elevation, in the low dish of the town of Tamasopo, surrounded by the Sierra Gordas.

 Could this sweet dog be any more posed with these bougainvillea? Check out that dramatic little paw drape.

Tamasopo, town square. We danced briefly in solidarity to a Zumba class going on in a nearby building, listened to the loud birds coming to roost for the night, and ate elote (roasted corn on the cob, stabbed with a stick, and spread with mayonnaise, hot pepper, and cheese).