Oh, Mexico (NSFW)

The monkey you'll buy

The taxi you'll hire (all five of you)

The soldiers you won't photograph

First bass

Vegans eat free in Mexico.

I'll delete any comments that insinuate these chips were fried in lard. Two Coronas and lunch: $4

Margaritas as big as your head.  They left before we noticed any distress.

"... now I don't work there anymore."

Duck in here for vendor respite

Speaking of respite, we think we had it figured out while we sat in front of Algodones Optical. Vendors were walking past us as though our money were invisible.  It seems like there must be some kind of "understanding" between the shop and the street vendors, even though one petite woman did invite us to buy.  Still, it's worth keeping in mind, if you're weary of smiling "no thank you."

Annie was looking for a certain article of headwear (spoiler alert:  she bought it), and a street vendor was happy to help.  He made his lowest offer, and Annie made hers, and hers won.  She haggled!  I was so proud I could have squeed.  

This was our best and most fun Mexican visit so far (we've had three).  We may have accidentally flirted with some men, but that's what happens when you make eye contact and smile.  Magnetism like this can't be fully contained.  

Annie got "señored," and she's used to it.  She frightens women in the ladies' room with her short hair and super-aggressive swagger.  We got "sistered" by an American;  that's lesbian code for "you've been made."  It's kinda nice to be recognized, since I "pass" all the time without intending to.  It's another casualty of middle-age.

Having figured out how to have the most fun (Corona), I was sad to be done with Los Algodones for now.  Hasta luego, Mexico!

P.S.  We found out you can even haggle at the pharmacies.  Score!

"Mexico" - James Taylor

Mexico is for Livers®

If drug-running across the border worries you, this town full of middle-aged white folks will scare your pantalones off.




Los Algodones, Baja California (that's Mexico)
   

Pretty things!  But, don't let the shiny tchotchkes fool you;  this place is about the drugs. 

  

And the teeth.

   

Let me be clear.  We were there for the drugs, too.  Not the Cialis that the man next to me was trying to purchase discreetly, but we all have our own back-monkeys.

[monkey segue]

A merchant's employee has the task of carrying a ceramic monkey the size of a toddler up and down the line for departure. The monkey is smoking a cigarette and drinking a Coca Cola. The monkey is anatomically correct.  I know because I asked before I bought it.  I'm not having some inaccurate monkey rendition strapped to the ladder while we're blowing down the road;  we'd be a laughingstock.  They bought that monkey and that's not even what a monkey looks like under his pants!  

The thing is, YOU KNOW THAT MONKEY SELLS.  There are snowbirds out there (don't even look around like it's someone else) who OWN THAT MONKEY.

A little woman laden with sparkly jewelry bits said things to us in Spanish for so long that I considered eating my lunch there. The small lady is very persistent, and you will be tempted to buy something for one dollar to release her from her obligation to solicit you, but this is a tactical error.  She has colleagues.

There are many, many farmacías for you to choose from, and men on the street will tell you about them. We hit three of them for prices before we found one that had everything we wanted, so we dropped our drug money there.

People who wanted our money:

• everyone

Specifically:

1. little ladies with sparkles
2. men with produce 
3. every drug store
4. every dentist
5. every optician
6. young woman with rock chickens  
7. young woman with ceramic tortoises
8. young man with monkey
9. everyone with a shop
10. man in white uniform
11. woman selling Chiclets

People who got our money:

• Purple pharmacy (not the first one, the second one)
• guy with strawberries
• guy with asparagus

People who almost got our money:

• girl with cute chickens - she called us "beautiful movie stars"

We were going to buy some emergency Cipro, but didn't.  The woman who helped us told us that she could sell it to us, but we would have to hide it.  We laughed, and she explained that it's not an imprisonable offense, they would just send us back to get a refund.  But she couldn't refund money on Cipro.  Worse, we would have to stand in line all over again.

It was all pretty exciting.  We got to use our crispy new passports.  We got to purchase medication that we hope to never use.  It's not the hassle we thought it would be; the worst of it is the line back to the States.

Park your car for $5 at the Quechan parking lot and walk across.  We decided that bicycles would be more trouble than they're worth, even if you can ride to the front of the line.  We crossed twice, and our wait-time was about 1/2 hour each (there is no wait to cross into Mexico, only to leave). Don't worry about your Spanish;  almost everyone speaks English. Even if you're an Ugly American, you and your money are welcome here. Don't come with a lot of stuff, because you're taking a monkey home.

Crossing over.

I can't stop myself from blogging.  It's NaBloHoMo around here.

We're scooting around the border with Mexico, which seems exotic and exciting to this country duck.  We want to give all due credence to sensible warnings, while blocking out the extreme and sensational.  You border-dwellers and -crossers, how do you make your decisions?

Here's how I made our sleeping decision last night:  heebie-jeebies.  We did all our fill-uppy things at the Flying J on the Texas side.  Still,  we were determined to cruise on into New Mexico for the night, and we rolled about 1/2 mile into the NM Welcome Center.  It's a pretty little building, secluded and quiet.  So secluded and quiet, and not visible from the road.  At 6 PM, after sunset, we were the only motorists in the entire lot.  No staff and no security, and then, no us.  We headed back to the perceived safety of a Pilot travel center.

We're actually pretty familiar with border issues.  Back in NYS, there were stories of mules:  innocent-looking U.S. citizens crossing back into our borders smuggling basic health-care for all.  Scofflaws flouting international regulations and filling their prescriptions in Canada, trafficking in recreational Crestor and Celebrex.



Speaking of border issues, here's a Border Patrol stop ... Annie!  Stop looking guilty, for Pete's sake.

Afternoon.  Just you two middle-aged, white women?

Yessir.  We are not, nor have we ever joked about becoming, coyotes for the purpose of making a living and supporting our mobile lifestyle.

Okay, you can go.

I'm not saying these guys are profiling. But, along with the sad decline and bodily softening of age comes a certain comfortable invisibility. They try to imagine us as dangerous criminals, but instead, they think of their moms.

Little Duck on a big desert.

As we drive, I see dozens of little roads I'd like to head down.  This gives me B-ness envy.  Size matters, and this Duck has to stay off many intriguing roads.

  

Annie wants to see one of these cuidados.  I am not so brave, and would settle for a live prudencia.

Annie's sinuses have started to hurt.  Do you deserters have suggestions? Is it the elevation?  The dry air?