Through the Looking Glass: Road: Like Willie Nelson and Canned Heat

I made a comment yesterday that came from taking stock of my activities over the last couple of weeks: I haven't devised, made, revised and crossed items off so many lists since Patricio and I planned our first big odyssey, namely, our big, fat, Mexican wedding. What is going on? What has happened to the Mexican Alisa who has become so comfortable with mañana? I'll tell you. What's happened is vacation.

Yet this is no ordinary trip, no traditional and easy jaunt with minimal plans. We didn't accompany my in-laws to Acapulco last week. Nor are we heading to Cancún with Patricio's brother, Beto, and his family later this month. No long weekend in Vallarta, or even a leisurely trip up north. This year, it's not a matter of throwing a swimsuit, sunscreen and flip-flops into a bag with a few changes of clothes and a book.

This year, Alisa and Patricio are going to be groupies.

The sound of that word may bring to mind, among other things, road trips by day and dance-filled concerts by night, and that's exactly what our vacation promises, as we travel through southern Mexico and Central America with the members of Mitote Jazz.

Veterans in the art of music tours, Cipriano and Isabel--the ensemble's master duumverate--have lined up a series of concerts along the Pan-American Highway, culminating in Nicaragua for the celebration of Isabel's 60 magnificent years. And on the off chance that you're itching to buy a plane ticket to Central America within the next few weeks, you can easily coordinate your trip with a ours by taking a look at the tour schedule here.

It's the road trip Patricio and I have dreamed of since the idea was a baby one, way back in 2006. But road trip, for Alisa, equals a whole world of imagined contingencies. And Alisa doesn't want to find herself without those flip-flops, an extension cord, or Cipro, you know, on a quiet stretch of road in Guatemala. So planning and planning has been the order of these days, and in a few hours, that planning will happily end. Because at eight in the morning, our vacation begins.

We groupies even have our own name. We're Mitoteros. On the road. Again.