Around noon today I crossed the Tecate border. I was the only one in line crossing so the Mexican border guys opted for a full inspection of my motorcycle. I gladly complied. After a few minutes they heard enough stories from me to satisfy their curiosity. I mostly shared my stories about the pictures I keep taped to the inside of my motorcycle top-case.
I explained to one federale that, in 1991 we had a little situation in California called a riot, that today is called a civil disturbance. Yes that one picture is of me during the LA riots posing with some National guard troops in front of a burnt to the ground strip mall.
Why most certainly I say, the US, just like Mexico has a little crime, all our cities have crazies living in them, yet most Americans are afraid to cross the border because of Mexican cartel violence.
And what about this picture he said; that’s my team in Bosnia, atop a hilltop, up from the town in Zvornik where the entire town was ethnically cleansed by the Serbs.
Wow he said; that doesn’t even come close to the Queen of the South, who just drove by here recently.
Really I say; No, that’s just a novela, he said and offers me a quick grin.
Once you clear inspection you park and walk into aduana where another jolly guy behind a desk and I start to chat about the local Tecate beer brewery and weather they are still offering tours. Aduana is immigration and Banjercito is a bank in the same building that accepts your money in either pesos or dollars for a visitation visa.
One of the things one immediately notices upon entering Mexico is that there’s color everywhere—not just in the trees but, in the mismatched buildings. There’s the color of mustard and red; like graffiti, whose purpose is to assault your sense of making out any type of order. There’s way too much going on here for me to sort it out so I decide to stop for lunch. For the price of an Inn N Out burger today I ate the following:
The one thing about writing a blog, I discovered, is that it tends to get written and updated every now and then, mostly as a result of my travels. Another story already? But I just wrote one.
We’re starting our ride in the southwest border of the US of A; as we cross the border to Tecate Mexico the Mexican countryside now just doesn’t look quite as big or majestic as it does on the otherside of the border. Recently we learned on the news that not far from here there are thousands of Ukrainians waiting at the U.S.-Mexico border in Tijuana; immigration agents are letting them into the U.S. on humanitarian grounds. A growing tent city is also being set up by Tijuana officials.
How much do anyone of us really know about Mexico and for that matter, the only planet that we’re ever going to live on?
Someone once asked the question; which is worse, to lead a life so boring that you are easily enchanted or a life so full of stimulus that you are easily bored? And which one are you?