A visit from the army

Friday, March 6

The eggs need to be boiled and fruit cleaned or eaten. We also need to eat the smoked pork before we cross the border tomorrow. Oh, yes, we also still have some wine. Well, we can take care of that tonight.
We’re only allowed to bring one litre of alcohol each across the US border. Which is plenty, because the Mexican wine is not all that great and we are not crazy about tequila. We prefer Chilean wine which costs about the same at home.

While Ramiro cleans the bugs off the windshield, empties the sewer and tends to some other mechanical issues. I cook up some omelettes with Chilorio. which is shredded meat with Chile sauce. It is only available in Jalisco. It would have been nice to take some home, but rather than buying the beef kind we brought pork, which we are not allowed to bring across the border.

It’s hot outside and very windy, which is rather unusual according to the locals.
By the time we leave, it’s well past 10:00 am. We have about 300 km to travel today and plan to stop before Reynosa, which is the border city.

The RV park is only a block from the main road, which leads out of the city direction north. It’s a nice wide, straight boulevard with good views.

It’s so nice and green everywhere and rather flat. There is also lots of cattle in the area.

There is a big dam here which feed of a large lake: Presa Vincente Guerrero.
It’s obvious that this state, named Tamaulipas (named after the flower Tamaholipa) is a lot more prosperous. The roads are in good shape. There are no topes no piles of garbage and very few old shacks.
The oranges offered along the road make our mouths water, but they are a forbidden fruit to take across the border. Darn it!

As we get further north, Ramiro has to work hard to keep the rig steady with the strong winds. Like an efficient flight attendant, I bring him snacks and drinks, while keeping also busy making pictures, taking notes for the blog, changing CDs, watching for the signs and reading about possible camping spots. There aren’t any in this part of the world and we may need to spemd the night at another truck stop. We rather not drive into the city and feel safe at the truck stops.

The next 200 km are as boring as the stretch from Edmonton to Calgary. Just flat land with growth ranging from agave plants to corn fields.
For approximately 20 kilometers we drive direction east, facing the Gulf of Mexico. It’s tempting to continue that direction and spend some time there, but we stick to plan “Homebound”.

There seems to be some congestion down the road. Aha, a military stop point.
There’s a huge line up of trucks and busses and there hardly seems to be any movement. We just sit and wait and end up behind a broken truck. Changing lanes at this point is not easy. No one wants to let us in. Everyone seems to be in a hurry.
The road ahead is blocked and all traffic must turn off into the checkpoint for inspection. We’re in the truck line up and are being directed t move to the bus lane and follow the bus in front of us. All passengers must leave the bus. Their luggage is taken out of the storage compartments and every single bag is checked while the owner of the bag must be right there with it.

I discretely take some pictures, but decide not to zoom into the soldier behind the sand bag barricade, with his MK47 pointing at the traffic on the road.

We’re next. This could be fun, what will we be expected to do? We have nothing to hide but don’t like the idea of the cute little soldiers going through our cupboards or sock drawers.
The soldiers are interested to see the storage compartments under the RV, Ramiro goes outside and I stay inside to welcome one of the soldiers into our home. I kindly ask him not to bring too much dirt into mi casa with his heavy army boots. He grabs the brush that sits on the steps of the RV and starts wiping his shoes, with a big grin on his face. Oh, if Louisa Taylor would have been here, she would have been drooling.

The soldier is so intrigued with our house on wheels, he asks all kinds of questions. I know that he is testing and exactly know how to answer.
When Ramiro comes in, he askes Ramiro similar qeustions. Luckily the answer is the same.
There is no smell of dope inside this casa, because we don’t like the stuff.
He’s not interested in my underwear drawer at all, just in all the appliances we have and the enormous amount of space. “And the bedroom slides out?” He asks. “Yes” I reply, “and here is the bathroom and the shower”.
Other soldiers also want to see inside and invite themselves in.
I could have offered them a drink, but there is such a long line up of trucks behind us. We joke a little. They’re happy that they’ve done their job and let us go with a friendly gesture.
We heard that the army here is much friendlier than the police. One of the Rotarians asked us last night if we have experienced any problems with police in Mexico. “They are so corrupt”, he says. He wouldn’t mind if another Pinochet would take over his country. “It may help us get rid of all the drug lords” he suggests.

It’s getting close to 3 pm. We come to the fork where the road to the east goes to Matamoros and the one to the west to Reynosa. There is a commercial site right here. It’s a bit early, but we rather not go to close to town and don’t know what we will be able to find for the night.
There is plenty of room to park here and we already see several trucks.
Not much we can do here. Ramiro walks to one of the businesses to buy some generator coolant and hopes to get an internet connection in front of the hotel. No luck. I read up on a Rotary assignment. We enjoy just looking outside with a glass of wine, and watch all the activities with the trucks.
We walk a little along all the food stands along the road.
Everyone wants us to come and eat their BBQd chicken or Tacos. but we’re not hungry.
We see dozens of cars coming south, pulling old wrecks. There must have been a car auction north of the border. A great way for the Mexicans to acquire a vehicle.
We still have no internet; Third day in a row. Hopefully better tomorrow, we’re far behind on the blog and our correspondence.