Blind Faith

We arrived yesterday, safely, but a little battle worn. We spent about 40 minutes driving around Oaxaca having the GPS recalculate our route to our house about 17 times. The streets here are narrow and short, accuracy of the GPS is average at best. The GPS also thinks we drive a Range Rover, as it let us up dirt paths that it considered streets. We drove from about an hour north of Veracruz on the Gulf Coast to Oaxaca, and stopped for about an hour in Fortin to see family. It was great to see then again, after 10 years, and get caught up on their lives. Leaving Fortin, we drove through incredible mountain ranges. As we drove we chatted about the last few days, what we had seem, how we felt about being here, people we had run into (A Canadian on a motorcycle from Saskatoon and a European on an extended adventure, going until he was broke, who had spent a year in Canada and thought we were very cool to have driven here and to be coming to live here.) We also talked about Faith. Ninety five percent of Mexico's population is Catholic. Ralph commented that they had to be in order to drive in this country. As we watched and participated in two lane highways become three lanes, paved shoulders become full lanes, and speed limits are mere suggestions, Ralph proclaimed that to drive in Mexico, one must have blind faith. Blind Faith that the person coming toward you is paying attention and will move over to accommodate your passing a double semi tractor trailer on a blind curve over a double solid line. Blind faith that everyone knows the width of their car, including or excluding paint, and blind faith that the cows know how to hustle off the road in good time.
I wonder if 6 months here will have Ralph baptized, with a rosary of Saint Christopher wrapped around the rear view mirror and making the sign of the cross before starting the car every day.