Winning The Revolution.

One reason Layne wanted to spend some time in a campground was the advertised laundry. She was insisting on doing her laundry herself, not handing it over to be done by some anonymous laundry woman as is the Mexican custom. $20 a night was more than we wanted to pay to park especially as we don’t need to plug in electricity, but the pool, the WiFi and that blessed do it yourself laundry sucked her in. I didn’t mind the amenities…

Well, it turned out the owner’s laundry was backed up and there was no room for ours, and the beach was full of dogs that freaked Rusty out so badly he refused to walk the sand, and the gate at the entrance was locked so it was unnecessarily  complicated to go for a distant walk. I had to find the handyman called Oligarco ( I’m not making that name up!) and ask him to unlock it. And I had to hope he was in shouting distance when Rusty and I got back to the gate. The paranoia of gringos requiring to be locked inside in Dangerous Mexico. None of this sounds like a reason to leave probably but we did just that after one night.

Compared to wild camping I felt totally fenced in like the song says. A Canadian woman whose camper seemed to have put down roots had a small exceedingly yappy dog that gave voice every single time it saw us. Some Germans in a truck camper never appeared. There was no one to exchange war stories with so we were ready to spread our wings again. Unlock that gate!

The fact was the damned laundry still had to be done so iOverlander to the rescue, again. Once in Mazatlan we dropped off seven kilos (15 pounds) of reeking laundry for $8 bucks, to be washed dried and folded including sheets and towels. Lovely. Be back by five she said. Laynes dreams of doing it herself were shattered. 

Mazatlan is a large coastal city and traffic can be quite busy, if you’ll excuse the understatement. Saturdays are working days for many Mexicans so businesses are open as a matter of course and commuting rules apply. We stopped by Walmart to try to solve a long-standing problem which had developed at the beach at Huatabampito where one of our camping chairs broke.

The expensive Pico chair drives me crazy as it takes precision to open and close, it’s heavy but very comfortable and it is not built to last in my opinion. We shall see what happens with the other one which still works but is showing signs of exhaustion. Jerky movements and getting stuck when closing it makes me think the little plastic parts and springs have had as much as they can take from Mexican sand and the grind of life on the road. Over engineered and under built.

No one, not anyone on the waterfront sold folding chairs. One woman suggested we try San Kloo near the Soriana Hiper Market. San Kloo was all I heard. No idea but I figured if I looked up the supermarket I could get a hint off Google maps. I got the clue finally. San Kloo is Mexican for: 

$31 and valid anywhere in the world. She wanted an address for our membership. Your house I suggested. She looked puzzled and then started giggling. I looked up an RV park in Mazatlan on Google maps and that’s our membership address. I hope they enjoy the special offers. We got the chair, $22, and it’s simple yet comfortable and tough enough for office work dealing with the beach should be easily within its capabilities. 

All this trundling around takes effort. Our visit to the Soriana supermarket yielded more loose dog food for hungry dogs we meet and they had a half price offer on six packs of Carta Blanca, a beer labeled “suave.”  How could I resist? 

Layne had a one o’clock appointment for a hair cut. Everyone wears masks in businesses as a matter of course and she was glad to get her hair done. While she was getting cropped Rusty and I went for a walk. 

Dogs in Mexico are not usually abandoned, but who they belong to sets the quality of their lives. Unlike in the US dogs, except those owned by the wealthy, aren’t treated as family members and they live on the streets much like their owners. Compared to dogs left home alone in the US constantly leashed and monitored, Mexican dogs live a life of freedom if not one of love and over eating. A leashed dog is dangerous. Why else would you tie him up? So I let him roam the sidewalks and I try not to get distracted. 

Walking with Rusty I watched him negotiate the sidewalk crowds like an old pro. No one noticed him. Had I leashed him I would have cleared the way ahead by freaking everybody out at the sight of an obviously dangerous dog. 

Traffic is the danger. The indifference of pedestrians is mirrored by drivers so crossing the street is a closely supervised operation. Rusty is obedient so when I say stop he stops which makes it possible for him to walk on his own. One hand on his collar as we wait for a break in traffic. 

He loves Mexico. What overwhelmed him at first intrigues him now. He assesses danger but he enjoys exploring. So do I:

I dropped Rusty off at GANNET2 and gave him a bowl of water. He was ready for it as temperatures are reaching Key West levels. Back at the salon Layne suggested I get trimmed. Good idea.

After $19 dollars of chopping (including tip) we got back to our home where we had lunch on the street. Corn tortillas with spicy mayo cheese and deli meat. Sort of Mexican.  Living in a van is great fun I find. I feel like a kid sometimes. 

We followed the blue Google line back to the laundry and got a neat bundle of our stuff. Layne is a convert at last to the idea of getting other people to do the job for her. It was perfectly done. 

We use a bedding system that is a double sided duvet, thicker on one side than the other. Inside we have a double sheet which Velcros inside the duvet. It’s like a king sized sleeping bag that feels like the most comfortable bed. I really like it. 

While we fixed the bed and put away our clothes Rusty napped at the truck stop, our campsite for the night. 

We like truck stops for overnight roadside pauses in the journey. They aren’t that different to stops in the US. Free parking usually, with clean bathrooms and sometimes showers. There’s always a convenience store and sometimes a diner. 

No one bothers us, and I suspect Mexican truck drivers hold amateurs like us in similar contempt to that US truckers feel for RVers in their parking areas. We like their facilities though. $9 for two beef ranchera dishes and a large bottle of shared beer. 

Free WiFi and a view of the action at the Pemex gas station. It’s just life on the road. Mexico dangerous? Nah. 

20 pesos to the dollar more or less. About $4 a gallon for regular for our Promaster. 

In the village kids were playing in the street on the other side of the truck stop fence. I watched as I walked Rusty. 

We settled in got some downloaded TV to shut out the world so we could feel at home. In the morning it will be another day on the road. More relaxation soon I hope. This is my retirement.