There’s not much to tell about my last two days in
Mexico. From Xilitla it was a straight
shot to the border. The first day’s
drive was very scenic on a lovely smooth two-lane road, with high grass growing
right up to the edge of the road and green fields beyond, really the nicest
driving of the trip, like driving in Ireland.
I spent the night in Cuidad Victoria, a typical blot of a run-down
Mexican city in crumbling cement, where the hotel actually had an underground
parking garage (score!) and where I did my laundry. There wasn’t much else to do in Cuidad
Victoria. The second day took me through
Monterrey and on to the border crossing.
I’m sorry to not be sorry about skipping Monterrey. I gather that some people are very proud of
it. I missed my turnoff for the ring
road and took the highway straight through the center of town, so I did get a glimpse
when I looked up from the chaotic traffic.
Tall metal skyscrapers like electrical components, billboard signs for
American franchises like Home Depot and Office Max, a last spur of dramatic
mountains hazed brown by smog. And I was
through.
From there, the drive was on ever bigger highways through ever
bigger land, wide flat scrub desert from horizon to horizon, the road a
shimmering ribbon into it. The further
North I went, the more the thermometer climbed: 70, 80, 90. It was a strange feeling approaching the
United States from Mexico. I could feel
it ahead, the long straight line of it, like a great weight pressing
downwards. I thought of all the desperate
migrants making the final stage of their approach through this land. Around me on the highway were mostly big
trucks, some with Texas plates; armadas of them were moored at the truck stops
and weigh stations in the dust.
At the border in Nuevo Laredo the temperature hit 100 and I
had to stop at the Banjercito on the Mexican side to officially log my Miata
out. A great parkinglot behind a
chickenwire fence rose and fell and glinted chrome, behind which ran a long dilapidated
government building, white with huge black letters. Literally pouring sweat and having to wipe my
brow on my sleeve every minute wasn’t, I thought, the best look for applying to
cross the border, but there was nothing for it but to clamber out of my Miata
and give it a try. The entrances to the
Banjercito side of the building were closed off with hanging police tape, so I
had to walk the length of the building—passing a marching file of armed
soldiers in camouflage—and go in through the side marked “MIGRACION” where all
the Mexicans herded in a room of plastic seats waiting their turn. Fortunately my side was sparsely populated,
the paperwork went quickly, and I was able to go back to Pepin and peel my vehicle
permit sticker off her windshield (it left behind a sticky residue).
From there Google had some last fun with me, routing me to
the border crossing via the back streets of Nuevo Laredo (there must be a
major road for this), through one more slum where I crawled over jagged cement speed
bumps, dodged potholes, and peeked around blind unmarked corners. Then I joined the hundreds of cars inching
toward the checkpoint. “Welcome to the
United States of America!” Google Maps crowed suddenly, about ten cars premature. But I got through, and in, with no trouble.
I spent last night here in Laredo, just on the American
side, at a pleasant faceless hotel (“Extended Stay America”) on a pleasant
faceless suburban retail strip. It was
very strange to be able to chat about the heat, in English, with the large
friendly guy checking in alongside me, and to go to dinner at a little suburban
bar and grille nearby with air conditioning and multiple TVs showing sports where
I ordered a burger with sweet potato fries from the menu. It was like waking up from a dream, or perhaps
falling into one.
There was one readjustment I had to make at once. As soon as I crossed the border, of course,
my little Panasonic cellphone with the Telcel plan, that I’d bought in
Acapulco, ceased to get data. I found my
hotel by grace of the blue Navigation line still showing on the screen, and
once in my room I connected to the hotel wi-fi, found a Sprint store in Laredo,
used my mobile printer to print out the map to it, forged back out into the
oven-like heat, and drove over. At the store
I was hoping they could simply add the Panasonic phone to my plan—it’s a fine
little phone, and I like it—but it wasn’t “compatible” (in fact, the very
notion of a Panasonic cellphone made the clerks laugh). So, yes, I had to buy ANOTHER cellphone, the
third such of my trip. This one at least
is financed on my normal plan and has my proper phone number.
Back in my hotel room I spread out my United States map, and
tried to figure out my route from here to Algonkian Park, Virginia, the great
inauguration of Part II of my travels. But
the heat and the weight of the burger caught up with me, and I fell asleep.
Wow, what an adventure so far. Been hugely interesting "tuning in" each week to read and learn about your experiences. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteGordon
welcome home! What a grand adventure.. you made us feel like we were driving it with you. Give a call and let me know your schedule as you head up here! LOVE YOU MATT!
ReplyDeleteYour description of a map of the North America spread out before you, reminded me of many months ago when you had maps of South America before you then.
ReplyDeleteI hope this new leg of the adventure, a northbound one now, offers you as many interesting places and adventures (at least the positive kind).