Do you ever feel like you want to parent your parents?

This message is from my mom and dad, who are in Mexico for the weekend, AHHHHHHHH!


Hi, Y'all!

Debbie and I are back at our hotel, an exotic Mexican "Fairfield Inn." (Ha, ha.) Actually, it's kind of nice to get back to a little piece of the USA, to anchor us in the middle of our truly Mexican experiences thus far. Let me recap a bit...

Last night we finished our marriage class, and then drove to below San Antonio before stopping to sleep at 2 am. This morning we got going again by 9 am, and reached Laredo by 11. We picked up Deb's prescription, our Mexican auto insurance, and some pesos (along with a restaurant recommendation in Monterrey). Then we went to the border.

First interesting experience: As we are pulling up to the border, Debbie looks at the insurance documentation, and reads "anyone entering the country with guns or ammunition will go to a Mexican prison." At this point--about 500 feet from the crossing--we say "hmmm...I wonder if Jimmy left any of his ammo in the car" (knowing Jimmy's fondness for bullets, like the one hanging around his neck right now). Deb reaches into the little pocket in the dash, grasps, and--lo and behold--pulls out a bullet.

We furtively pull over to the side of the road...unfortunately, under the direct gaze of three Mexican border workers, and innocently ask questions...like "where was the border again?" Meanwhile, I crack the door on my side, and slip the bullet out onto the pavement. All on the US side, thank God, so we weren't in immediate danger of going straight to Mexican prison (as Deb is saying "without collecting $200").

We reach the border, and the Hispanic guard asks for our $3 toll. We hand it to him, and I ask him to confirm that we should go to the next street, turn left, etc. etc. as we had been instructed at the insurance place, to get to customs. He says "Oh no! Customs is right there," pointing to his left and just behind all of us. "I can have them open the gate (just ahead of us on our right), and let you go through. But customs is closed for lunch." That much was obvious, by the long line of people standing at the door to which he had just pointed.

I asked him, one last plaintive time, "it's not at the next street, turn left, etc. etc.?" And his eyes open up and he says "Oh! You mean Mexican customs! Yeah, that's where you go. Have a good day."

That moved us ahead about 50 yards to the Mexican guards. They waved us to a lane, where a traffic light turned red indicating that we were to be searched. But there wasn't anybody around, and I was a little confused (yeah, and the Titanic was a rowboat), so I slowly pulled forward. Initiating a guy running out and screaming behind us. I pulled over.

He looked in the trunk, and said "OK, go on" (or what sure seemed like it, since I'd never heard the words before). So we pulled out onto our first Mexican street.

Came up to an intersection where we were supposed to turn left, and two guys with squeegees surrounded our car. Didn't matter that the light had just turned green and the two cars in front of us went through...no, one stepped in front of our car, the other went to the driver's side, and they both began madly gesticulating across the windshield with their tools. Occasionally the one on my side would stop wiping and move his right hand with extended fingers towards his mouth...in and out, like he was holding a Big Mac and trying to wolf it down in four bites. Then he regaled us with the only English he apparently possessed, saying " Quarter, quarter, dollar, dollar?" I gave him a dollar (couldn't find a quarter fast enough). By now horns behind us had wound up a Beethoven symphony. But, good fellow that they were, as soon as they had our dollar, the other guy moved away from the front, and allowed us to move on. It seemed like the light had cycled five times, but it all amazingly happened in the same green.

We finished turning left, etc. etc. and stopped at a stop sign with a building built right up to the corner of the intersection on the right. I looked, didn't see anybody, pulled out and nearly killed my wife! There was a car--artfully concealed just out of sight beyond the building, tearing down at poor Debbie's door. Ayyyy! I hit the accelerator, and we moved on.

Have I mentioned yet that Mexicans love to use their horns? Well, I heard another one then. We haven't stopped hearing them since.

Anyway, we continued toward Mexican customs where we belonged, and went in. We were met by a Mexican auto insurance guy, who told us that we had paid too much for our insurance (interestingly, they play this game on both sides of the border: the American auto insurance worker told us to go exchange for our pesos in the international bank on the US side, because it had better rates than found in Mexico. We haven't found rates that high yet anywhere in Mexico!)

We walked up to the first step in the customs process, and the official behind a window looked very disgusted (Debbie's word; fits perfectly). He handed me two forms and asked a couple of questions in passable English. I said we wanted to get the longer stay approved, since we might like to come back. He said to fill out the forms, which I did (Deb didn't have her glasses on). One place on the form was for "length of stay", for which I put "3". Unfortunately, I didn´t see that section's small print in English, "for official use only."

To make a long story short, he stamped the forms and told us we had to leave Mexico on Saturday (3 days isn't "the 24 period from now until tomorrow the same time, etc. etc.;" it is "today, manana, and manana after that"). I said "oops; I got confused" (did I mention that this happened to me a couple of times in Mexico?), and he looked at me with a combination of vindictive justification, resentment, and boredom, and said "No." Like "too bad." Still holding the paper receipts in his hand, with a wastebasket 5' away.

I figured I better get out of there while I was still a free man, so we walked on to step 2. Had a nice conversation with Debbie about what we were going to do with our extra day back in Texas this weekend.

We finished the rest of the customs process with little trouble, and I used Jon's amazing translator (thank you, Jon!), and went back to the guy and said "estoy arrepentido. Buenos tardes." Meaning, of course, "I'm sorry. Have a nice day."

Well, you'd think that I'd just kissed his baby. He broke out in a big smile, his co-worker did likewise, and he said "you can extend your stay at the government offices in Monterrey, just by calling. Enjoy your stay!" Sheesh...talk about your bipolar personality! No, actually I really think he had probably had it with one too many "ugly Americans," and was surprised that I cared enough to say anything.

We did fine for the next 15 miles, until we hit the checkpoint with earnest young men in camo, with M-16s, on Hummers. But other than a slightly surreal feeling of disconnection from reality, we made it through that just fine, too.

Northern Mexico is really bleak and brown. No trees. But shortly before reaching Monterrey you start hitting the mountains. BIG mountains, at least around the city. Monterrey itself reminds me somewhat of San Francisco; colorful, built on steep slopes, and actually a surprising amount of green. Really pretty.

Deb and I were following our map, and managed to drive almost all the way through town before realizing we had missed our turn (a poorly-marked exit for the International Airport!), and turned back. I got to try my first real "pidgeon Spanish" interraction, with an older gentleman in the exotic Mexican "7Eleven". Yep, looked just like an American one. Just down the road from the Wal-Mart. Reminds me of the joy I felt when we had earlier passed semi with an English word on it. That word was "Werner."

Well, I used my two words of Spanish, and the old gentleman used his two words of English, and we got back on the right track. A short while later we pulled into the hotel.

I'll have to give you the story on our evening later...we're beat. But we love all of you! Natalie, please show this to Jimmy...mom didn´t have his email address in her address book. But Jimmy, we didn´t forget you!

Blessings,

Jim and Debbie

Loved ones,

Night of rest behind us, I have a few minutes to add to the account.

First, I should clarify that the bullet was a flattened, previously-fired slug with no casing...not a live round. So no danger to innocents when a truck rolls over it later.

Second, I forgot to mention the crazed American couple in the Walmart. No, not the one in Mexico...we were still on the American side! We were doing our last-minute shopping before crossing over, and had just arrived at the toilet paper aisle. The man and his wife--both obviously Anglos--turned the corner. I said something to Debbie, not paying any attention to them, and he turned to me and said (this is my translation, including both his actual words and his body language) "Thank God; you speak English."

His wife turned in our direction. Then he asked "Are you going to cross the border?" I said yes, and Debbie asked them if they had gone into Mexico. They said yes, though only at an entry point three hours away. He said that Laredo used to be the place to cross many years ago, but now there was an average of one killing there a day. He practically implored us not to go.

Well, we smiled and bid them adieu, and walked out wondering "what in the world was that about?" We couldn´t quite figure out if God had sent them to warn us, or if the devil had sent them to put us off. So, we went on to the auto insurance place, and asked the lady there. She said "no danger to tourists; but not good for the people who live there...drugs."

So, we went on, as I described yesterday. And there wasn´t a hint of that kind of danger. (Only the many other kinds of danger that I described in parte uno yesterday).

Well, gotta go. We´re off to see some caves and maybe Saltillo today.

Love you all!

Jim and Debbie