6 months ago we docked in Ensenada and went ashore.  It was our first real Mexican city and it felt as though we’d landed on another planet.  The streets were filled with people shopping, talking, eating street food. There were dogs running around, and garbage everywhere. Things you don’t see back in Sioux Falls or for that matter, most anywhere in America.  We could have been in Columbia or El Salvador for that matter: it was definitely a Latin American city.  It felt weird being there and it was hard to imagine that last night we were in San Diego witnessing a parade of million dollar boats decorated with Christmas lights.  It was exhilarating and scary at the same time.  We weren’t in Kansas any more, Nancy.

We raced down the Pacific coast stopping as seldom as possible.  We stopped at two ‘towns’,  Abreojas and Turtle Bay.  I went ashore only at Abreojas, a tiny fishing village constructed, seemingly, entirely from dust and seaweed.

After 10 days of bad weather, ramen noodles, and animal crackers we made our way to Cabo San Lucas, a town with a split personality.  One half of CSL is entirely American.  MTV Spring Break meets Vegas meets Disneyland.  But right behind it, in it’s shadow, is the real Cabo-a real Mexican town with real Mexican people.  We spent 2 weeks in CSL and for some reason found ourselves drifting back and forth between real and fake: it was somehow comforting to sit down to dinner at a place where all the waiters spoke perfect English.  There was some comfort in seeing foods you recognized on the menus, even if it was, in retrospect, a cop out for the restaurant: Nachos, burritos,  Mexican omelettes.  Foods that WE think of as Mexican but don’t EVER appear on a menu at a real Mexican restaurant.

La Paz followed on the heels of Cabo, and was wonderful.  Even though there are no timeshares, cruise ships, or all-inclusive resorts, enough gringos get to La Paz that it’s easy enough to communicate, but English is definitely not the preferred language.  La Paz, or “The Peace”, is just that.  It’s a peaceful, beautiful Mexican city about the size of Sioux Falls.  It was here that we began to fall in love with Mexico.  People (Well, Mexicans anyway) would go out of their way to help.  Everyone smiled and made eye contact.  Buen Dia.  Buenos Tarde.  Buenos Noches.  Kids would always shout out a greeting in English, in order to practice what they’ve learned in school.  I can see why Rainbow Hawk never went home to Washington.  A person could easily spend the rest of their life here.

From La Paz, things got better, albeit briefly.  We went to Topolobampo, a place gringos are only starting to go.  We met Alberto, the manager of the new marina, an incredibly nice man who went above and beyond the requirements of his job to make us feel at home.  We will definitely visit Topo again and hopefully get to know Alberto and his family better. From Topo we took the Chepe Train to Creel, a Mexican mountain town that reminded us so much of Leadville, Colorado-one of our favorite places.  We fed hotdogs to street dogs, froze our heinies in a cold hotel, and lived like kings, which was difficult as only ATM machine for hundreds of miles was broken.

We lucked out in Mazatlan and chose, for purely financial reasons, to anchor in the Old Harbor.  It was a stinky place to be sure, but provided us good access to Old Town.  We met the ‘marina’ staff and got to know them and their adopted dog, Nina.  We bought her a bag of dogfood.  The night watchman lived at the ‘marina’ and slept on a piece of concrete with a single pillow.  He would wake up when he heard us rattling the gate and was always friendly. Edward took our Diesel jerry jugs to the Pemex, charging us only his cost and hoping for a small tip.  We got to know Carlos and Eduardo from the Topolo restaurant.  They remembered us when we returned after 4 months…they even remembered what we ordered.

In San Blas, we met a guy who runs a banana bread stand.  He offered to drive us into town (5 miles) and we obliged.  He spoke as much English as we did Spanish.  We were curious what the large fruit was that they had sitting around, and he brought out his machete and hacked one open for us to try, free of charge of course.  He wasn’t expecting us to buy something from him, he was just being nice. Like almost everyone in Mexico.

In La Cruz, we spent enough time to really get to know the area.  We knew bus drivers, local dogs, shop owners, and other boaters.  We made friends undoubtedly for life.  We witnessed several carnivals and watched as children played balloon popping games where they could win cigarettes and porn.  We LIVED in a small town and became a part of that town.  People knew us and we knew them.  Even with the language barrier.  I could walk into the same shop every single day back in Sioux Falls and the employees would never acknowledge me, other than to treat me like a nuisance since I might cause them to actually work.  Stores in Mexico are owned and staffed by the same people.  There are ADULTS working at the ice cream stand, grocery stores, and restaurants.  Back home it’s only teenagers who fill the positions of dealing with the public in their quest for daily needs.  Teenagers don’t give a shit.  Mexicans do.

We met similar people all up and down the coasts, as well as on our expeditions inland.  If we looked lost, someone would come up to us in their broken English and ask if we needed help.  In the States, if you’re walking around looking lost there must be something wrong with you.  Where’s your car? Why doesn’t that guy consult his I-Phone?  Look! That guy’s walking carrying groceries! He must have gotten his 3rd DUI! Stay away, kids.

Unfortunately for most Americans, the Mexico that they get to know consists entirely of All-Inclusive resorts and Timeshares.  That’s not Mexico.  I don’t even know what it is.  But it sucks.

We’ve been walking around Guaymas a bunch since we got here.  It’s very similar to Ensenada as cities go.  There are no gringos here, even though we’re 17 miles from an almost entirely gringo town.  But it feels different than Ensenada did all those weeks ago: I’m used to the holes in the sidewalk and the trash everywhere.  I’m used to dogs running everywhere and barking at me from rooftops. I haven’t seen a suit and tie in 6 months. I’m used to noisy buses and kids in school uniforms. I’m used to seeing entire families hanging out at night at the town square, not just homeless people.  Not only am I used to it, I like it.  I like it a lot. I like it because it’s the trade-off to be in a place where people know how to live, not just exist.  People aren’t stressed out all the time.  Most of them just need to make enough money to pay for food today.  There aren’t homeless people in Mexico.  We’ve maybe seen 2 or 3 in our 6 months here.  Families take care of themselves.  Everyone takes care of everyone else, and that includes me and Nancy.

I will miss Mexico terribly.  If only I could convince everyone I knew to move here my problems would be solved.  Anyone interested?

Jeff