So you think they were done with us? No, we plow merrily on with our now palpitating hearts and hope to make it out of town before sunset. Suddenly, we hit a ditch the size of the Grand Canyon and who d'ya think is standing on the other side, waiting? Diga me! The policeman in full regalia awaits us, pointing at his chest. We roll through the ditch at 3 MPH and roll down the windows reluctantly, with full knowledge that the "ratting out Americans" network in Tampico is alive and well. Dude points to my husband's seatbelt that he is wearing and insists that it is not being worn. Out of touch and not seeing the State President anywhere close to rescue us, we indulge our biggest fan and pay the equivalent of his wages for the next year. Demoralized and several hundreds of dollars lighter, we hope we finally can move on with our adventure. We are on the 180D, headed for the beautiful Gulf of Mexico and plan to follow it the 1200 miles through Mexico to our destination in Hopkins, Belize.
Countryside, State of Veracruz, we set the cruise control and talk on the walkie to each other. My husband is leading the way with the motor home. I notice he begins to swerve slightly. "What is going on" I naturally ask? Bad news: the steering column has separated itself from the vehicle, the mechanism is in his lap and he is holding it in place with both hands and legs. He assures me it's just a normal day for him and continues down the road on the lookout for civilization.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Belize Adventure Resumes
Like a re-run, I am back! What happened to Susan, you may ask? Did she perish in Mexico? Did she die of overwork on her blog? Was it the kids' fault? No! My life up and changed AGAIN!
Let me catch you up................
Once upon a time, Susan and family were lingering in Brownsville - remember?
So we pluck up the courage to wait in the eternal line at the border crossing. Unable to speak Spanish but with that arrogant air of "We're American so speak English", we shouted to be understood by the authorities. After emptying our pockets several times and receiving countless pieces of Mexican paper (Like single-ply toilet paper), we landed in Ciudad Victoria. Since I had plotted our trip by noting the towns that contained Walmarts - figuring they might be very Americanized if not civilized - Ciudad Victoria seemed the place to be. First stop - internet cafe to let family know if they don't hear from us every 3 days, we died in Mexico and to come dig up our bodies at the border. We sleep in a campsite set up for motor homes, meet the owner, and give away our barbecued chicken dinner to the local community who thinks we're both wealthy and stupid - go figure?! Mamasita Victoria takes the juicest cuts of meat and sits on our best chair, telling stories to the gathering crowds about her escapades in Belize. Much entertained and sated, the crowd disperses and we feel secure in the fact that the mordida of chicken would ensure our first night's safety in this strange but fascinating land of manana, where talking to each other is a national pastime.
Indeed, we awake refreshed and alive. We shower, buy fresh bread, Mamasita bids us a family-style farewell, and we are soon on our way with no mishaps. Easy, I think - we can really enjoy our life adventure together! REALLY???
Driving towards Tampico, our next planned stayover, I become nervous since the guidebook warns us of the bribery that is rampant within the police in this area. Do not take the highways, they say, take local roads. So, obedient as ever, we do just that. Local roads are usually wide enough for a donkey. I'm pulling a 26 foot boat behind a 15 foot van. How, mathematically, does this go around a 90-degree corner of 2 intersecting donkey roads without smacking the neighbors' walls?
No, I didn't figure this out - math whiz that I am - I just twatted those walls that happened to be right in front of the local police station, just where they got a really good view. Hubbie to the rescue.....he gets the vehicles around the corner and picks up the broken bricks.....and takes a wad of cash out of his pocket for the visitors. Paid our way out of that one and on we go.
The guidebook states that a "mordida" or bribe to the police is generally around $20. No sweat, think I, as we are pulled over. The violation we are accused of is touching with one of our tires the white line that every other vehicle crossed over. See, they even learn to explain your violation to you in English, so profitable is the mordida business. They probably hold evening classes titled "American capitalism 101 - how to get rich quick". Being the self-proclaimed "intellectual" in the partnership and having digested every fact in the guidebook, I whip out $20 and smile sweetly. The police retreat hastily to their vehicle, having been directly approached by a female, and consult. They bring my husband a written ticket for $1,000. What an outrage! Doesn't agree with the info in the book, you moron! Bring us downtown, arrest us, see where that gets you! I'll call the embassy, they will make a national incident of this! "Susan, shut up!" yells my husband! "We can't allow them to take us downtown - the results will not be good, especially with the kids. They will take everything we own and maybe hurt us". My husband, always the wise one - he was arrested in Tijuana once so he knows. Susan, always the righteous one. We pay the $1,000 and drive meekly on. Oh, I vow one day to write the President of the State of Tamaulipas about his police force. I hope he is reading this blog.
Let me catch you up................
Once upon a time, Susan and family were lingering in Brownsville - remember?
So we pluck up the courage to wait in the eternal line at the border crossing. Unable to speak Spanish but with that arrogant air of "We're American so speak English", we shouted to be understood by the authorities. After emptying our pockets several times and receiving countless pieces of Mexican paper (Like single-ply toilet paper), we landed in Ciudad Victoria. Since I had plotted our trip by noting the towns that contained Walmarts - figuring they might be very Americanized if not civilized - Ciudad Victoria seemed the place to be. First stop - internet cafe to let family know if they don't hear from us every 3 days, we died in Mexico and to come dig up our bodies at the border. We sleep in a campsite set up for motor homes, meet the owner, and give away our barbecued chicken dinner to the local community who thinks we're both wealthy and stupid - go figure?! Mamasita Victoria takes the juicest cuts of meat and sits on our best chair, telling stories to the gathering crowds about her escapades in Belize. Much entertained and sated, the crowd disperses and we feel secure in the fact that the mordida of chicken would ensure our first night's safety in this strange but fascinating land of manana, where talking to each other is a national pastime.
Indeed, we awake refreshed and alive. We shower, buy fresh bread, Mamasita bids us a family-style farewell, and we are soon on our way with no mishaps. Easy, I think - we can really enjoy our life adventure together! REALLY???
Driving towards Tampico, our next planned stayover, I become nervous since the guidebook warns us of the bribery that is rampant within the police in this area. Do not take the highways, they say, take local roads. So, obedient as ever, we do just that. Local roads are usually wide enough for a donkey. I'm pulling a 26 foot boat behind a 15 foot van. How, mathematically, does this go around a 90-degree corner of 2 intersecting donkey roads without smacking the neighbors' walls?
No, I didn't figure this out - math whiz that I am - I just twatted those walls that happened to be right in front of the local police station, just where they got a really good view. Hubbie to the rescue.....he gets the vehicles around the corner and picks up the broken bricks.....and takes a wad of cash out of his pocket for the visitors. Paid our way out of that one and on we go.
The guidebook states that a "mordida" or bribe to the police is generally around $20. No sweat, think I, as we are pulled over. The violation we are accused of is touching with one of our tires the white line that every other vehicle crossed over. See, they even learn to explain your violation to you in English, so profitable is the mordida business. They probably hold evening classes titled "American capitalism 101 - how to get rich quick". Being the self-proclaimed "intellectual" in the partnership and having digested every fact in the guidebook, I whip out $20 and smile sweetly. The police retreat hastily to their vehicle, having been directly approached by a female, and consult. They bring my husband a written ticket for $1,000. What an outrage! Doesn't agree with the info in the book, you moron! Bring us downtown, arrest us, see where that gets you! I'll call the embassy, they will make a national incident of this! "Susan, shut up!" yells my husband! "We can't allow them to take us downtown - the results will not be good, especially with the kids. They will take everything we own and maybe hurt us". My husband, always the wise one - he was arrested in Tijuana once so he knows. Susan, always the righteous one. We pay the $1,000 and drive meekly on. Oh, I vow one day to write the President of the State of Tamaulipas about his police force. I hope he is reading this blog.
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