Border Parking

You know how we used to watch astronauts fly to the moon and of three wild men of space only two got to walk the surface of the moon? That was me stuck in the command module known as GANNET2.

Layne walked to Mexico and left Rusty and I behind. Like any good astronaut in orbit I was a busy bee and did chores while she went to play in Los Algodones. I walked her to the border and watched her go. Just like a whole bunch of pedestrians who cross between 6am and 10pm Pacific Time.

The truth is Los Algodones (“the cotton” in Spanish) is the dental capital of the southwest. Americans come here for inexpensive high quality tooth care not to play in the sun. An implant for Layne in St Petersburg was quoted $5,000. In Los Algodones the bilingual Cosmetic and Implant Dentistry Center (viewable on Google Maps)  quoted $1400 per implant. You choose; Layne chose Mexico. As you can see it’s a six minute walk from where we spent the night.

I have come to terms with the fact that everything about my retired life seems sketchy to my well resourced and stable, properly housed former suburban neighbors but getting medical care outside the US need not be a fearsome proposition. In fact you can get excellent private care by English speaking medical  professionals with hospital stays and nursing care unimaginable in fast paced profit focused US hospitals. There’s no question the best is in the US, the question is: can you afford it?

So Los Algodones has created a market place for Americans to get care they can’t afford in the US and the reason this is all happening here is the particular geography. Baja California sticks out here on the west bank of the Colorado River which enters Mexico and creates the meeting place of four states. In the north California meets Arizona and in the south Baja California meets Sonora. Just to make it extra complicated in the summer months Arizona and California are an hour apart as are Baja California and Sonora. BUT the dentist who probably gets more clients from Arizona runs his office on Arizona time, along with the rest of the town. Confusing eh?

The Quechan Tribe sensing an opportunity built a vast parking area butting up against the international border. It’s split in two halves. For day trippers it’s six bucks a vehicle and for overnight parking it’s ten. For  full RVs and trucks it’s $22. There is a dumpster for trash and nothing else. The place is packed! 

So by now you have figured out my fate. Any suggestion I leave the parking lot to explore Yuma was instantly shot down by the admiral. Years of steroid use has done her teeth no good and she needs two implants so the final quote for all work including extractions etc was $3200. We return March 13th to finish the job and have the new teeth installed. But as that all news progressed during her day in Mexico, she wanted to know I was as near at hand as I could be for moral support. So I sat in the parking lot. All day.

Rusty and I went for occasional walks. We watched as pedestrians streamed south across the border.

Then I gave GANNET2 a spring clean, shaking out the rugs, vacuuming, washing the floor and wiping down the walls and so forth. A nice cup of tea as I paused and waited for a text. “Still waiting” she said. Rusty had a treat and took a nap. Behind him you can see the endless lines of cars at the automated pay machines, exact change and credit cards only.

Being at the border is watching an ebb and flow of humanity all day long. In the morning the tide pushes cars and a few pedestrians north into California, then by mid morning the flow turns and heads south into Mexico, cars back up a little through the port of entry but the pedestrians walking the sidewalk into Mexico is a flood.

Then everything goes quiet for a while as the tide settles for a couple of hours. Then people stream out of Mexico on foot back to their vehicles, then the bi- national commuters come to the border from their dollar paying jobs and go home to Mexico where their dollars go further. After the border closes California Highway 186 becomes a dead end and all goes quiet. At seven am Arizona time the line has already formed waiting for the gate to open: 

There is an Indian Casino on the highway and an RV park but there is no other sign of life along the two mile spur between Interstate 8 and the Andrade Port of Entry. Of course in the vast empty parking lot a well worn Class C RV pulled up alongside and when the well worn occupant got out I said Hi! And I got not a word back. His RV is plastered with advertising for Bandito Books which I looked up online.

It turns out Allen is a government conspiracy nut old school style contrails and I don’t know what, also purportedly a surfer and world traveler. Not exactly a first rate salesman but I’m glad for that as I prefer to be ignored by conspiracy nutters!

I walked to the gate dropping our trash into the dumpster on the way and the really nice dude at the gate got me legal for another night, another ten bucks. As soon as Layne walked back we moved away from the conspiracy guy last heard loudly playing conspiracy talk while settled in across the lot for a night of pain management. 

A few pictures from Rusty’s various  walks to pass the time: 

A border patrol helicopter at work:

Immigrant fence sitters:

“We don’t need no stinkin’ badges…” This lot cross the line at will:

Wasn’t I surprised to find a historic marker, rather the worse for wear by the side of the road!

And in the distance they have Fat Albert here too keeping a heat seeking eye on the border.

Welcome to friendly California!

Deming Done

Michelle and Matt pointed out the highlights of Deming and said there was a new park popping up in the ground.

It’s pretty bleak still but landscaping is on the way. Two and a half million bucks of work. 

The water is supposed to be a reserve supply for the city and they allow fishing but no swimming. Boo hiss. Apparently swimming will be allowed when they know the water is clean enough. It’s a decade long process apparently. 

Yup. Dinosaurs. I have no idea what’s going on but they were cute.  

The day wasn’t half over and Rusty was resting. We took over the gazebo. 

The park is named for a businessman and his wife who became big shots in Deming. Donation central I  guess. 

Michelle told us about the City of Rocks State park and we drove half an hour out of town to see what’s what. We were greeted by a raised middle finger. 

The park has two camping areas, one with all the facilities which looked pretty boring even from a distance. A visitor center, a clump of RVs and so what is the fuss about? 

If you go beyond the rows of RVs hooked to electrical cords you drive through what they called developed campsites, spots with tables and trash cans and fire rings but no hookups. This eccentric collection of scattered sites constitutes one of the most interesting campgrounds I’ve seen. 

The city of rocks is a scattering of lava rocks that are estimated to be 30 million years old. They are found scattered around a hill rising up out of the endless desert floor. 

Dogs are welcome and you get to wander the trails at will. 

There are what they call walk up sites for tent campers. 

Ten bucks a night and you can use the Reserve America to get your site online. 

We made our own pull out in a wide spot off the main dirt road through the state park. 

Lunch time was three o’clock. Layne had remembered Michelle’s recommendation of a dive bar and eatery west of town. Adobe Deli in all its glory:

They are famous for their French onion soup. 

We shared a grilled cheese sandwich with green chilies, New Mexico style. Delicious. 

It was a strange place with a cheerful server who took good care of us and good food.Snd a bunch of odd decorations! 

The staff at a winery we visited were visibly annoyed by our arrival. Weirdly we got some good tips from two locals who were drinking wine at the bar. They recommended the Shiraz and we took a bottle with us. 

We stayed at a nearby rest area off the freeway last year and there it was as we traveled toward Benson and the sun was setting. 

To sleep, perchance to dream…We were tired after a long day but Rusty passed out without touching his dinner. It must have been great for him.