Descriptive

One place that I will never forget is the ranch my uncle (my grandmother’s brother, in Mexican culture we refer to them as uncles) built and owns. It lays on a thousand acres of land, just outside Toluca, the capital of the state of Mexico. Rancho Feshi, which means “singing waterfall”, is a trout farm. There are many different deep-water, man-made rectangular ponds where thousands of trout are bred for later dining. The ranch is famous for its trout and many people come from all over Mexico either for breakfast on a Sunday morning, or to stay a weekend in one of the many log cabins. I remember being so excited to visit the ranch whenever I went to Mexico, but I also remember the forever-long trip to get there if you didn’t have a car. First it would be the little green Volkswagen Beetle cab to the Metra train station. But we wouldn’t get on a train; instead we would take one of those 70’s-looking vans out of the city. After that long trip in a cramped van, we had to take a windowless green bus to some small, busy town in God knows where, and then finally finish off the trip with yet another little green cab. But it wasn’t over yet. The cab ride was about an hour, give or take. Under normal circumstances it might take maybe two hours, but in Mexico, where there is no paved road, there is no speed limit. Instead, the driver, well-acquainted with the winding, deadly path, would drive his little stick-shift car at about 60 or 70 miles per hour. As many times as I have taken that trip, I am still to this day afraid that something could go terribly wrong and we will hurtle off the steep cliffs. Especially when there is another vehicle on the road, going the opposite way just as fast as we are. But the best part of all is that around turns, the car does not slow down one bit. On the contrary, sometimes it goes a little faster. But as we finally approach our destination, I get excited. But first we have to pass through the guard, who sits in a tiny