The Misadventures of Hallisandra: She Gets the Boot

By Elsie Medina

The young girl was witness to an execution on the banks of the Rio Grande River near her home and went into hiding from the Drug Cartels. While on tour of Italy, she met and took a lover who also was on the lam from the Mafia. The unrelenting pursuit drove them to many places of the world, especially Switzerland, Mexico and Italy where they finally settled.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9781463439088

Elsie Medina

Elsie Medina was born and raised in the Lower Rio Grande Valley of South Texas. As a child, she remembers her home, an eight-hundred acre ranch just miles from the river, becoming a corridor for the Mexican Nationals trespassing on their way north. Most were friendly and courteous hard working family men. Nothing was illegal at the time, and sometimes her father employed several to help with the ranch work. Today, the number of drug-smugglers infiltrating the family groups is vast and keeps the Border Patrol, DPS and the Feds on the alert night and day. What a difference a few decades makes. The McAllen native earned a Bachelor of Science Degree from the University of Texas --- Pan American, Edinburg, Texas. She resides in McAllen surrounded by family and extended family. Her passion for life takes her to explore many different cultures of the world. Her husband of fifty-five years, Plinio C. Medina, passed away two years ago.

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Hallisandra

Hallisandra, or Hali, fulfilled her life as a child of privilege was expected to do. Her heritage had roots deep in the strict white Spanish culture carried over from the old country. Home on a ranch in the brushlands of South Texas bordered on the Rio Grande River. The sprawling cattle and horse ranch far removed from the hub of the city of McAllen none-the-less was well maintained and equipped with all the modern mechanical and electronic apparatus of the current market. The life of the young adventuress revolved around her father, Mike, ever since her mother ran away with the pool man. Mike doted on his daughter and they anchored each other to the world..The areas surrounding their home served as wonderful open-air laboratories to study the wildlife in its natural habitat. Her horse took her along the beaten paths of brechas and ranch roads, but walking suited her purpose. Growing under huisache and mesquite trees and easier to detect are wild flowers and fungi of incredible colors. Creepy crawlies and other tiny creatures of the brush pose just long enough for a quick photo.

The summer evening had begun with an invigorating breeze from the Gulf of Mexico sweeping her along. The chaparral sprang to life as gales from the coast cooled the parched sand. Joyous songs of birds and the twitter of insects filtered through the woodsy scents of lantanas and the unseen beauties under the thorny trees. Late-blooming cat-claw and white brush lent their incredible aromas to the air.

Mexican parrots chattered from a distance away. Hali had chased after the raucous flock many times in search of their roosting place, but the skittish birds always managed to out-maneuver her. They dashed on overhead, south toward the river, wings flapping, parrot-gossiping to one another.

She followed the barb-wire fence separating Mike’s pasture and Mr. Garcia’s, the neighbor to the west. Mr. Garcia knew she traipsed through his land on her quest to bird-watch along the river. She showed him pictures of the kingfishers taken in the spring where they nested and raised babies in the crevices of the high banks of the river.

Life on a ranch in South Texas afforded the young teenager the luxury of time to explore her surroundings. Her interest in nature and things inhabiting her world brought about a love of photography that developed at an early age. Shelves laden with colorful books and albums of the flora and fauna of the brushlands reflected her love of nature, her love of birds, flowers, trees, butterflies, mushrooms, cacti, etc.

The colorful birds were soon lost to view, and she continued on her way, snacking on mesquite beans and crunchy granjeno berries plucked from low, thorny branches. A setting sun pierced cumulus clouds and tinged them in tangerine mist. She took her photos. High above in the willow and hackberry trees, the familiar calls of green jays, grackles and woodpeckers filled the air.

It was then that she came upon the brutal scene.

Mike

Mike projected an ominous image. His essence loomed larger than life to the less fortunate along the Mexican Border. His wife’s adulterous nature soured him forever. Now his entire life revolved around his daughter, to protect and shelter her from the world.

During breakfast, Papa unfolded the morning paper, and pictures of the gory scene by the river sprang from all over the front page. The Border Patrol had found the mutilated body of Garcia. The good Mr. Garcia, an upstanding pillar of the county, had been killed in a drug deal gone bad. Garcia, his neighbor, was a good friend as well.

Something is terribly wrong, hard to believe! Papa knew better than to believe the rumors.

Garcia had no reason to be involved in drugs. His wealth came from past generations, from Spanish grants dating back several centuries.

I saw Mr. Garcia butchered by the river. Hali almost whispered the dreaded words. They fell like a bomb in her father’s lap. When the Border Patrol plane came, they had disappeared in a jara thicket on the Mexican side.

Hallisandra, you know you can’t repeat to anyone what you’ve just told me—not even your closest friend! You saw what the killers can do. They won’t think twice to kill you! So, just shut up, girl! They’ll come looking for you, you can bet on it!

The many friends of the influential man about town knew where he and his daughter lived. The killers surely knew by now.

You must hide. I’ll send you somewhere faraway, perhaps even out of the country where no one will find you until the murderers are caught, and hopefully things will blow over!

Papa knew things would not blow over. Guilty persons caught and put away were quickly replaced with more of the same.

Oh, yes, Papa! The young adventuress gleamed with anticipation. Send me away, to Italy! I’ve always wanted to visit Italy!

Well, the Pope was in Italy. What harm could there be to send her there?

Hallisandra in Italy

Hallisandra joined a group of tourists traveling to Europe. The seasoned traveler left the Rio Grande Valley fully equipped with adequate funds to last a month or two. Money, plus several credit cards could sustain her for a long time. A small camera lay nestled in her purse.

In the seventies, choices of communication were by mail and telephone, all easily traced, and instead, Papa provided her with several telephone numbers which she carried in the zippered compartment of her travel bag. Two numbers were of a Congressman, a friend of Papa’s. Messages conveyed through his office would reach her father in unimpeded haste. He, in turn, could always reach her on any given day. The itinerary posted dates and hotels where the tour would be housed.

Have a safe trip, honey. Mike said farewell to his darling daughter.

Tell the Pope hello for me!

Bye, Dad. I’ll call soon.

His heart ached to see the plane fade in the distance. For the first time, they would not celebrate her birthday, her seventeenth birthday, together. But travel in Europe, and especially in a group of Americans, posed little danger. On other trips taken together in a group, everyone looked after each other. The bus driver and the tour guides especially were overly cautious. Duty to protect their charges stood firm, resolute. The customers must feel safe and secure.

Poor Papa—sending his only daughter into hiding from the Mafia in the Mafia’s Motherland. It was the seventies, and movies such as The Godfather and Goodfellows had not yet glamorized the workings and evil extent of the Mafia.

Hali welcomed the challenge of traveling alone without her parents for the first time. Adventure called, and wanderlust spurred her along in a group of strangers from the Rio Grande Valley. Exotic places were not new to her as Mama and Papa had taken her on vacation to many countries of the world. That was before Mama ran off with the pool man. It seemed eons ago.

But Italy was a country still to be explored. Excitement and anticipation to see sights new to her eyes and discover them for her very own bubbled over. In childhood dreams, she had walked along the cobble-stone streets of Florence, Rome, and Venice and breathed in the hot Sahara winds carrying tantalizing hints of sandalwood and myrrh. Ancient Etruscan ruins and sites made holy with the blood of Christian martyrs thrilled yet sent shivers up her spine.

Milan

On a gorgeous August morning, the large group of strangers met for the first time at the Malpensa airport on the outskirts of Milan. Malpensa translates to – figure this, Dad! —bad thinking. The original group of twenty from Texas grew to forty at JFK International Airport in New York. Telly, the guide at the airport in Malpensa stood on hand to greet her charges. As the entire group was ushered into a waiting motor coach, Telly handed each a Dallas Cowboys cap with the team logo emblazoned on the front.

The number of tourists visiting in Italy this time of year is substantial. Please wear these at all times when not in the bus. The bright hats will be easier for me to spot in a crowd. The Italian guide assumed everyone in her group not a Texan would settle to be one for a few days.

The glorious days and nights were hers. From the brushlands of South Texas came an eager heart so overwhelmed by the incredible sights of Italy.

On the drive from Malpensa to Milan, the roads appeared clean and free of litter. Long rows of stately Lombardy poplars framed both shoulders along the road, and enormous chestnut trees swayed with thick clusters of green spiny fruit. Towering umbrella pines loomed on far-off hills beyond neat rows of corn, vegetable gardens, vineyards and tobacco patches of lime-green color. The murder by the river was temporarily forgotten.

Exotic landscapes new to her eyes dashed past the bus window. Color, color everywhere! Flowers of incredible hues blazed in the sun. Earth tones of rust, orange, beige and sienna gave life to the houses painted in creams, whites and yellows. Red tile roofs complimented the plain architecture of the houses and planter boxes on balcony ledges burst with late summer blossoms. It was a wonderful time to be alive. The gory scene by the river was slowly fading.

On the morning of their arrival, everyone was free to do his own thing to become acquainted with the surroundings and to absorb the aura of the city of Milan. But jet lag after the red-eye flight weighed heavily on everyone, and Hallisandra headed straight to her assigned room. The lovely accommodations reminded her of home. A twinge of homesickness dissolved between white fluffy bed covers. On the television, George and Louise Jefferson gibbered away in Italian. When a cheetah began to chase after a gazelle through the African savannah, she finally dozed off. In the morning, the chase was still going full swing.

Mid-morning, and Hallisandra awakened fully rested and free of jet-lag. Armed with camera, binoculars and map, she rode the elevator to the restaurant on the main floor. Walking shorts and sleeveless blouse was choice of dress in the warm weather.

The empty lobby of the hotel would soon be filled with other hungry late risers. Quiet as a mouse, she eased into a leather chaise in the lobby and commenced to unfold the map and wait for the dinning room to be prepared for the large group. A clerk appeared behind the desk to answer the phone.

Good morning, she greeted him, smiling in her usual character. When he looked up and saw her, his dark eyes glinted in the dim-lit room. In the blink of an eye, the opportunistic Italian scooted from