Totonaka RV

O, To be in England
Now that April 's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England—now!

The first verse from one of my preferred poets, Robert Browning from a poem titled Home Thoughts, From Abroad. He lived in Italy and this was his ode to his distant homeland all summed up in the last line juxtaposed against the classic English Spring depicted, when he looks at “this gaudy melon flower,” an Italian fruit. 

I’ve spent a lot of my life saying goodbye, thinking about what I’ve left behind but in this next transition I find myself looking forward. This winter in Mexico has brought about changes that I neither looked for nor expected. Life on the road relaxes me which is a paradox. I find myself able to cope more easily with setbacks, not always with grace and style which would be asking a lot, but not with as much despair. 

As we prepared for our last full day in Mexico I find myself rejoicing in the reality that the road trip continues, and not despondent that one fascinating trip has ended. This revelation took a while to sink in as the end of a trip used to mean a return to a dreary routine. I’m retired now and am free to look at a map and ponder more driving options. 

I’m looking forward to lunch with Bruce and Celia, two people who are able to mock the irritations in life, a useful example for me to follow. After that pause to regroup we’re figuring our path across Arizona’s back roads to see a friend who used to live on Big Pine Key, and then perhaps some dispersed wild camping at altitude near Flagstaff to enjoy cooler temperatures.  

Over the years of change and fresh starts I have spent too much time looking over my shoulder pondering what I could have done better but now in my van life unrolls all the time seamlessly. I don’t have the inclination to spend time looking back. The driver’s seat obliges me to look forward. And the road buoys me with anticipation and optimism and curiosity. This really is a new life. 

Our chores were done; our camping gear washed dried and repacked, the van cleaned and we were pausing to enjoy the shade of our eucalyptus tree at Totonaka RV park in San Carlos. Tuesday is travel day but Monday was make and mend one last time in Mexico. A woman walked up and introduced herself. I was impressed by her openness to new experience. Hers was its own story as she had married a Bulgarian and spends most summers in Europe, not what you expect of salt of the earth Maryanne from Indiana. She and her husband had bought land in San Carlos and were going to park their travel trailer on it and supervise the construction of their new home. 

They were thinking of a van for travel but her husband came by and interrupted our exchange with an appointment they had to keep and whisked his wife away. She was I think surprised by the extent of our travels across Mexico but that is more often the rule it seems for people who live in Mexico but have never been travelers. Switching countries doesn’t necessarily change the habits of a lifetime. Not I suppose should it. 

Luis Menendez is 80 years old and has worked all his life. Of his three children one lives in San Diego and loves her working life whose details escape him, another son lives in Baja and only one child lives nearby in Guaymas. They think he’s weird because he won’t stop working. He’s worked all his life and he enjoys it. He has a big home and sometimes wonders if he could live in a trailer like the residents of the park where he is the night security guard. 

We watched the full moon ride over the hills across the bay, as the sky darkened. There was a cool evening breeze and Rusty’s walk down the street, not terribly exciting, had relaxed him and he sat next to me watching the diners come and go from the restaurant in front of the RV park. We talked of this and that, the inevitable violence issues in the US and Mexico, the importation of guns from the US that fuel the cartel wars. How easy going Rusty (the perfect dog)  is. His children and their careers versus Layne and my decision not to have children (weird) and living by traveling. Working night shift. And Covid. Four of Luis’ sisters have died as have an uncle and a cousin. Luis has had his shots and he’s waiting for his second booster. He never smoked, drank very little and always had a job. That’s how he got to be so old. And spry.  It was cool enough to do laundry. Layne sent me a text: “Let’s do it.” Luis said he had left the lights on for us in the laundry room. 

Layne was ready to fill our laundry bag and we wandered across the vast empty park to do our last pre-border chore.

Life on the road. Here today, gone tomorrow.