"On Mexico time" is a Corona ad campaign or at least should be. The Mexican government could also use it to attract wealthy gringos to come down, drink Mexican beer and lay on the beach. When traveling to Mexico's Copper Canyons (for the 7th time) to shoot part of a doc about the Tarahumara Indian's infamous Ultra Marathon, "On Mexico time" takes a different meaning.
Somewhere amidst the overbooked connecting flights, to enduring the camera & audio gear version of customs, to anxiously arriving in a city that is on the world's top 10 most dangerous list, to the nearly endless 12 hour train ride and its subsequent rocky 3 hour back-of-the-truck experience - Real Mexico time emerges.
It's a grind to be sure and one that weighs heavy on your mind in the days leading up, but then somewhere in the thick of it you finally start to see the landscape change and notice that everyone you come in contact with is smiling, with no agenda except to be nice to you. That's when you start to shed your Northern, North American time stamp and adopt their Mexican reality.
When finally arriving at the bottom of the world in the town of Urique, there is loads of excitement. Every single person in this tiny pueblo a zillion kilometers and degrees away from everywhere, is talking about, helping with, betting on or running in the infamous Copper Canyon Ultra. Its kinda like the Kentucky derby, the Olympic village and Superbowl Sunday all crammed into one teeny village that barely has enough room for its 800-1000 year round residents.
By the end of it, after a bunch of long days, overheated dslr cameras, sore muscles and red pasty skin, not to mention the onset of the Mexican cleanse/revenge, inevitably the words "This has got to be last time coming down here" are uttered but then a bunch of months pass and you realize that Urique and the Copper Canyons are sorta like an annual, self medicated pressure relief valve.