Today we headed north away from the coast towards Guadalajara for a quick side tour of the town of Tequila, home of the liquor that bears its name. We quickly climbed a high pass, going through volcanic mountains and even got high enough for the jungle to give way to pine trees. It was a pretty drive with lots of deep gorges and even some waterfalls. As we started to get close to Tequila, we began seeing the unmistakable blue agave fields. Once in town, it opens up into a historic downtown area, where Jose Cuervo started making tequila in the mid 1700’s. All of the big operations are located here; Jose Cuervo, Sauza, Don Julio…

We had to wait for a while to catch the next English tour of the Jose Cuervo plant, so we spent the time walking around the downtown area, taking pictures and getting a bite to eat. We started by finding a little street market and sat down for what looked like great tamales. A lady quickly came over and told us that they weren’t for us or in other words, she wouldn’t serve us. That was a first! We hesitated, but it was clear that the older gentleman wasn’t happy that we even tried to sit down. We moved on and had some lunch before returning to the factory for the tour.

The tour was very informative, walking us along all steps in the process, from harvest through the distilling process. We got to try shots of tequila at different stages in the process and were able to see how it goes from the harsh liquor you do shots of, to the oaky sipping tequila in the aged (Anejo) version (my personal favorite since it resembles whiskey).

After the tour we headed past Tequila towards Guadalajara to catch a road back towards the coast. As it was getting dark we pulled off the main highway near Colima to setup shop to get a good night’s rest for a try at making it to Acapulco the next day.

Unfortunately at about midnight we were startled out of sleep by flashing red and blue lights and the sound of automatic weapons being cocked. We were ordered out of the van, so we fumbled around trying to find shoes then stumbled out into the bright spotlights, groggy and dazed. The officer doing most of the talking was high strung and barked questions at us, while his partner maintained a calmer demeanor. We attempted to explain that we were tourists, and that we were tired so we pulled off the road to sleep, but from what I could gather he was saying we couldn’t stay there. All I know is that the high strung one kept using ‘Vamanos’ and wanted us to pack up and move quickly. They escorted us down the highway for a few miles and made us follow them to a roadside hotel where they instructed us to go in and get a room. We happily obliged and they went on their way, leaving us with a scare, but no harm done. There definitely is a difference in anxiety though when the officer is not only speaking a different language, but also holding an automatic weapon!