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.  

Night Walk

It was like the good old days when I used to be at work: Rusty waking me up at 4:30 ready for a walk. 

Except after he peed on a patch of grass outside the Hotel California Comfort and Suites he dug his paws in and refused to come with me.  So I said fine, I’m awake so I’ll go for a walk alone. Apparently that didn’t go over too well and he sat by the hotel room door pining for me. 

It was too bad because I had a great walk wandering Los Algodones in the dark for a couple of hours just as I used to in Key West all those years ago. 

The sun was just starting to come up and to the north I could barely see California outlined through the border fences that comprise the wall here: 

In town the wall very tall, maybe thirty feet and there are two parallel lines of steel posts creating a dusty track between the fences where you can see Border Patrol pick ups rushing back and forth. Retirement is so worth it as I just stood there and watched nothing happening. 

Along some parts of the Wall Mexicans paint graffiti or pastoral scenes but here in Los Algodones it’s just plain rusty metal facing south. With some advertising: 

Sunrise, looking east toward Arizona and the Colorado River which flows left to right in the picture below near where the sky is painted red. 

When we drove into town on Tuesday we stopped just south of Los Algodones to stretch our legs. I saw a Border Patrol boat carving donuts in the green waters of the Colorado which is the border at this point: 

It’s a busy business keeping people out but on the Mexican side of the line there was no one about in town at dawn. Except one older man in a California registered pick up. He stopped next to me on the street and asked in Spanish if I knew where “la linea” was, because there are no signs in the Mexican way of not signposting things. We were a block away and the gate was invisible! 

There were half a dozen cars lined up to cross into the US even before the Andrade Port of Entry opens at 6 am. The gates in the picture are the Mexican entry lines for cars coming into the country from California on the right side, outside the frame.

This was the line at eight o’clock outside our hotel three blocks from the border: 

In the meantime the town of Los Algodones was mine.

The wall through the northern edge of town deteriorated in some areas into older small fencing. The lights below mark the edge of the Indian parking lot used by pedestrians coming to Los Algodones. Oddly enough I stood there in January waiting for Layne.  

Through the Mexican gates you can see the US side which is basically a parking lot where the pedestrians leave their cars. On the Mexican side businesses butt right up to the very border as if crammed in to catch the first unwary customers stepping  into Mexico to buy services. By opening time the sidewalks are packed with people touting for business. “Need a hat..? A pharmacy..? An optician..? A dentist..? They crowd you making you feel like the most needy human in the world. 

I’d say sure I need something a thousand bucks! And they would recoil. But not for long. You need a woman..? Nah I’d reply, I’m older than I look. How about some heroin I’d ask provocatively and they’d smile. You can get anything in Los Algodones they’d say and I’d settle for a fish taco. It must be exhausting selling all the time. I avoided them only by being out here before they got on the scene. 

The monument on the plinth marks the actual line. 

There are rough hewn stone steps on the American face, like the huge ungainly steps on the Maya pyramids at Caracol in Belize. 

A Mexican returning from an unauthorized visit to California. Scofflaw! 

And another one! They ran off before I could apprehend them.  

The views from the border monument. You can’t see the empty beer bottles strewn around the base. 

Time to get back down into it and walk back to the room. We had work to do. Which included getting a car wash. One sparkling van. 

They are rebuilding the pool at the hotel. We had hoped to use it. 

Rather him than me in the desert heat: 

Laynes teeth fit splendidly and are unnoticeable. I got new lenses ordered for my glasses to be shipped to a friend in California. Lightweight progressive lenses for $130. It will be interesting to see how they are. We hope to be in California soon on our way to Santa Cruz and cool coastal air for a while. 

Memories of Mexico!

We asked Teo to make a van sized tree sculpture and he obliged. He said it was harder to make a four inch tall wire sculpture than to make the large ones. 

Need a dentist? He’ll look up from his phone and ask in a minute. These sidewalks are packed in winter and people are looking for just that.  

Need a pharmacy? 

We bought a big cup of corn with cheese from this guy and his food motorcycle:

It is permitted to be young and have fun in Los Algodones. 

The Colorado River 





Negative stereotype? 

Illegal immigrant? 

Fish tacos are actually pretty good even here inland. 

I like Mexico but I’m looking forward to smooth roads and no topes. Not looking forward to no roadside food sellers, no magic third lanes and no full serve gas pumps.