Back In The USA

I never cease to be amazed by borders and more so than most by the dividing line between the US and Mexico. At its most stark this border separates one of the most powerful economies in the world from a very average highly divisive economy. Mexico has great wealth and great poverty, similar to the US but poverty much more visible and in a much higher proportion of the population. 

And this is a line I can cross at will in either direction. I feel immensely privileged. I float from the US to Mexico in my van, a foot in either camp with no desire to seek residence or to settle in Mexico. 

I thoroughly enjoy driving around Mexico but the thought of settling in an alien culture, of coping with bureaucracy of Byzantine proportions is anathema. I am grateful for the privilege of being allowed to visit with very little paperwork but life in the US is too easy and structured for me to move my residence. 

For forty one years I have called the US home and now more than ever that little blue book of citizenship affords me an easy crossing home to a land of ease and comfort and minimal paperwork like no other. 

To live in a van and be a nomad is a lifestyle choice, not necessarily an aberration. In a few weeks I fly to Italy to see my sisters, the first time since 2017 and I face the prospect of explaining my choices to people who could no more conceive of living my life than they could of farming on the moon.  Rational choices include marriage, children, stability, good sense and age appropriate life styles. None of which apply to me. 

I think that history of growing up in social restriction equips me to deal with the peculiarities of life in Mexico. What seems alien to a native born American is a reminder to me of the life I escaped. The expectations of Mexican families mirror those of my family half a century ago when I was a child. The world I left behind has changed of course but the women I saw working in the fields could be a scene taken from rural Mexico today. 

A photograph taken by an American  family who moved to the village of Morruzze, and I glad to see it, as I would never have dreamed of recording my life back then. I just wanted to escape.

Some sense of that desire to escape comes back to me as I present my passport at the border. I enjoyed Mexico and I look forward to going back in the Fall but given the choice I would never surrender the privilege of a life in the US over anywhere else. 

It is become in our hyper fractured society a shouting point that the US is the best place to live in the world. From the perspective of a widely traveled immigrant I would agree, not as political fodder or to make a point but as a simple truth, for me.

Coming back to the US we drive to BLM land, that peculiarly American concept of public land for enjoyment by, among others, the public. Free for camping! And there we were, an hour out of Mexico parked among the cacti in a well used spot trash free and silent. There were no barking dogs, loud music, or any other noise. We sat under the stars and marveled at the perfect peace. 

Yes we miss the easy going driving in Mexico, which I know sounds crazy but road rage is almost unknown south of the border. But I don’t miss the topes and the appalling potholes. I love the food but you can’t get more variety than in the US. We’ve had Mexican food since we got back! And Thai food! And curry and so forth. Oh and I still look for the trash can to put the toilet paper. Not throwing it into the bowl is a hard habit to overcome…sorry about that. 

I suppose part of me is grateful for the life I’ve had as an immigrant here and  that affects my view of life both sides of the border. 

I shall be glad to enjoy Mexico again this Fall but right now I’m glad to be back. And apologies if I’m too slow on the road in my lane blocking tank but I pull over where I can.  I’m still used to pottering along at 45 on the shoulder and having Mexican drivers pass in the magic third lane. 

Stay curious.