CHASING DOWN THE MUSE: Tonala: A shopper’s tonic

Tonala. The name begins to slip off my tongue. Tonala. Like a circular dream I return again and again to this city of shopper’s dreams. Tonala! Three times in as many days.

The cab driver smiles at our destination. We negotiate the price and ride into the traffic-jammed streets of downtown Guadalajara.

Ten miles southeast of the city, Tonala sits in the center of a sprawling complex of factories, farms and ranches. Known for its handicrafts and factory shops, the city is a major destination for many Guadalajaran visitors. These include not only the day trippers, but professional decorators who shop the streets for bargains.

It’s the rainy season, and lightning sparks the sky and thunder rumbles across the valley. Even concrete structures shudder. The streets turn to rivers and low-lying intersections into deep lakes. A truck rushes past our cab, sending a torrent of water through my open window.

Tourists are scarce. In fact, so scarce that in four days I have not seen another American, nor heard the language of my homeland. I find this to be a grand tonic, one that wakes my soul, dislodges complacency and generates mental dendrites.

Even my Spanish is improving. I can understand most of what is spoken and don’t trip so heavily over my own tongue. Slowly, the language begins to live inside of me, and my mind relinquishes its role as translator.

Our realtor and friend, Alexander, has joined Steve and me in Guadalajara for this adventure. The home that we’ve purchased in Loreto is rather empty, ie., no place to sit and only one bed upon which to sleep. After many e-mail exchanges with Alexander, we decide that Guadalajara is the place from which to furnish our home.

Guadalajara is often referred to as the most “Mexican” of cities, replete with cultural elements of the surrounding countryside. It combines the majesty of old world cathedrals with cobblestone streets and the press of commerce.

The city is the second largest in Mexico, with a metropolitan population of about 3.5 million. It spreads in the midst of a mile-high valley ringed with pine-covered mountains and beautiful homes.

The region boasts of high-tech firms, Lake Chapala and its retired gringos, while handicrafts, leather goods and furniture can be found in the outlying cities of Tonala and Tlaquepaque.

Tonala is more bargain-oriented than Tlaquepaque, and if shopping for furniture, it’s the manufacturing source. I settle on “Rusticos El Agave” and discourse with Omar, both builder and salesman, over my choices.

Omar is broad of frame and wide of smile, patient and kind.

Everyone, in fact, is friendly, kind and helpful. A photo notebook holds pictures of products not on the showroom floor, and if something different is desired, just ask. More drawers? Wider shelves? Different colors? No aye problema.

We purchase a dresser, a desk, couch and chairs, headboards for the second bedroom. We negotiate a price, which he discounts more deeply for the volume.

Now, how to get the goods from Tonala to Loreto? Lupita, who appears to be the head honcho, advises that all the shippers are closed on Sunday, and we’ll have to come back on Monday for arrangements.

We struggle through a throng of people in town for Sunday’s open-air market. One side of the street is closed to traffic, filled instead of cars with tents that cover Mexican jumping beans, music CDs, blouses, kitchen tools and children’s toys. Fresh fruit stands and roasting meats fill the air with multiple fragrances.

Monday, we’re back in the taxi. Lupita uses a radio phone, nods quickly and sends us through town to Transportes El Arco, where we organize our shipment with Efrim and Jose. Shipping is reasonable, with only one hiccup. They’d like us to return the next day to confirm the bill of lading.

We can’t find a taxi in the rain and settle on the “green” bus that goes directly downtown. It bumps and sways with the rain-filled potholes, picking up a growing number of damp travelers. Strangely, it feels as if we are one family traveling together.

Tuesday we’re back in traffic. Jose is not around, but his secretary copies my receipts, types up the bill of lading, and that’s that.

Estimation of shipping time — eight days.

Tonala! Sure beats shopping at the mall.