by Ron Burdine

After five days of driving from Denver, Colorado to Tulum, Mexico, I have arrived! What follows is a recap of the high and low-lights of an interesting drive through a beautiful country.

DAY 1: We (my brother-in-law, Rich, and I) left Denver at about 6 pm, and nearly made it to Amarillo, Texas.

DAY 2: The second day, our goal was Laredo, and the plan was to spend the night there.  We made it around 11 pm.  We stayed on the Texas side of the border, and double-checked the paperwork for crossing the following morning.

DAY 3:  We stopped off early before our crossing to get our Mexican auto insurance , driver added, and driver change was made as common sense dictated that Rich should do most of the driving.  Due to the jam-packed car, and the resultant inability to move the passenger seat back, Rich’s 6’ 5” frame forced his knees into the glove compartment.  If the airbags had deployed, he would have likely have ended up with a broken neck.  He had made no comment about it until three hours into the trip.  At that point, he drolly observed that we may have to hire a winch to pull him from the car as his knees were starting to lock up.

The entry into Mexico went much smoother than expected – a nice surprise!  The planning and paperwork done in advance proved to be a big help, as did the multiple copies I had of everything.

Right out of the chute, we got in the wrong line, but were directed to follow the numbered steps/lines 1-4.  Naturally, we went right to Line 4, bypassing the first three.  Line 1, show your tourist paperwork.  Line 2, copies.  We never figured out what the purpose of line 3 was – other than to tell you to go to 4.  Line 4, show your vehicle paperwork.

Jammed into the back of the car with the remainder of our disposed of belongings was my faithful dog, Yeller. Yeller was a big feller and this seemed to dissuade the border authorities of the necessity of checking to see if what we said we had in “those” boxes matched what was actually there.  Knowing that the big dog came out with the boxes, conferred complete veracity to our customs list as far as they were concerned.

And so, we crossed the border and started down our first Mexican highway to Monterey – number one of many toll roads.  We were asked to pull over at the 17 mile checkpoint where several very serious 19 year-old kids, wearing camouflage and wielding machine guns, proceeded to inspect the car.  They take customs inspections seriously in Mexico.  But, as it turned out, they never asked us to unpack much of anything, and they definitely did not want to see anything from the back that would require an off-load of “ol’ Yeller.”  Rich and I were both excited to clear that hurdle after hearing of three-day long border crossings caused by lack of paperwork, and/or the right permits.  High five – we were in!!

The road to Monterey was great – a nice four-lane toll road.  But, be aware that if you ever make the drive, you need to have lots of cash for the tolls.  We spent over $200 (and it’s up to $300 today) for the toll roads – you’d think they’d be paved in gold!

The problem with much of the Mexican highway system is that no one planned for the kind of traffic that a highway brings in, so they go right through the middle of town, and they get narrower as they go – like a funnel.  We made great time to Monterey, but once there, simply getting through the city took an hour and a half.  And, the traffic was brutal; bumper-to-bumper, with people randomly crossing the street.  Between trying not to get hit, trying not to hit pedestrians and making sure we were still on the right road, it was the epitome of a very stressful experience.

Our first wrong turn was made just southeast of Cuidad Victoria while trying to take a shortcut recommended by someone who has made the drive several times.  We wound up on a really cool road that wound its way through some rural areas, and ended up costing us about three hours.  But, it was so picturesque that we didn’t mind the detour. However, finding a place to stay overnight in the “middle of nowhere” was a challenge.

We finally found a Pemex station about the time it got dark, but the nearest hotel was an hour farther down the road.

For the most part, we followed the rule of not driving at night.  When we told a local we were thinking about trying to make Tampico that night, he strongly advised against it because of banditos on the two lane roads after dark.  As a result, we ended up in a charming little town called Aldama. We got a cheap, clean room, and ate tacos at the palapa on the corner . . . $11 bucks for the two of us, including the tip, and it was great food!!

DAY 4: For some reason, Rich and I had the idea that we could make Chetumal today, albeit with a late arrival, followed by a leisurely day driving up the Caribbean coast on Sunday. In hindsight, this almost looks delusional.  After getting to Tampico on a two-lane highway which had been a pretty good road, we re-entered the funnel and spent an hour or trying to get through it.  We finally made it through, found the right road and paid our toll.

Note to self:  Just because you pay a high road toll does not mean the road is good!!  This was to be our first experience with a really bad Mexican road.  It began, initially, with two lanes, but shortly thereafter culled itself into a single lane with random potholes of all sizes everywhere.  After a couple hundred miles of this, we finally made it to Tuxpan – also known as the “vortex.”  Here, we cleverly avoided “Centro” believing we had found the bypass, but ended up doing a complete loop of the city which brought us back to our starting point.  Wheee . . . that was fun!

Eventually, we found the road to Veracruz, a great road for almost the entire first half, but which then disintegrated into a construction and pothole-ridden obstacle course – a condition that was rapidly becoming the norm for the second half of our trip.

Veracruz was surprisingly easy to get through.  They actually put the highway around the main part of town. Tres unique!!  Our working hypothesis was to get to the south end of Veracruz, find a hotel and call it a night – it was getting dark.  We were cruising once again, had a nice four-lane highway and were making good time.  But, where were the hotels?!!  No exits,  just open highway at night.  We drove on (there were no other clear options at this point) hoping to see some sign of life, and after only 70 miles, spied a sign indicating a major junction and a Pemex coming up.  Excellent!!  Another concern was that the fuel was running low.  We pulled in and found the Pemex closed!!  So, here we would spend the night. Okay, we’re flexible.  Unfortunately, there were only two hotels and neither was a four-star option, or any star, for that matter.  We chose what appeared to be the better of the two, and again, ate with the local roadside taco vendor – once again getting good food at a bargain price.

The hotel was another story altogether.  We both slept in our clothes and skipped showers in the morning for sanitary reasons – those being that we were better off grubby than compromising our immune systems.  It took me a mere three hours that night to fall asleep because I kept picturing clearly in my mind what showed murkily below the see-through sheets.  I just kept telling myself, “You’re camping!!  You’re just camping.  You’ve done it before.  You have slept in the dirt.  Relax . . .”  Yeah, right!  We were so thankful to get back in the car that morning that we got a very early start!  Even Yeller seemed “excited” to get back into the kennel!  It had been a really rough night.

DAY 5:  Because of our early start, light traffic and, once again, good roads, we made great time and Chetumal was finally in sight.  We made it to the Chetumal by-pass around 8 pm, and decided to stay in Bacalar rather than trying the drive at night. Working hypothesis adjustment #36 – Monday would be the casual drive day.

We found a cabana-type place to stay with an American woman host who was quite the raconteur.  Luckily, she had been drinking that night and we were able to convince her that Yeller was a good risk.  He loved the place which was right on the beautiful Bacalar lagoon.

DAY 6:  We made an out-of-the-way stop at Mahahual, to see the damage done by hurricane Dean.  Mother Nature can be intimidating, and occasionally tweaks the human psyche regarding the importance and power of humans on planet Earth.  Dean was one of her tweaks.  It is very humbling to see two steel beams twisted like pretzels and bowed to the ground.

However, since humans are not given to humility for extended periods of time, we soldiered on and made Tulum about 1:30 pm.  Awl Right!!!  Yessssss!  Hooray!  Whoot, whoot!!  We did it!  High five!  Who’s da man, I mean, men?!!

We capped the trip by immediately heading to the beach to pay homage to Mother Nature!

[singlepic id=530 w=300 h=225 float=left]Try as I may, I cannot pinpoint my favorite “neck of the woods” in Mexico. I have traveled throughout eleven states, to many pueblos, colonial cities and, of course, the astonishing beaches. I have melted at the remarkable beauty of the turquoise Caribbean waters, toured the Sea of Cortes in Baja, jumped waves in the Pacific and frolicked in the blue-green Gulf of Mexico.  All of these regions of Mexico are unique and enchanting.

My husband and I are seriously flirting with the notion of living in Mexico, once this Asian stint we are on is over.  Our dilemma, we can’t pin down the one location to put down roots.  That isn’t necessarily a bad problem to have, and I know we will live it up while searching for that perfect spot to finally call “nuestra casa.” [singlepic id=531 w=300 h=225 float=right]

For the exorbitant amount we shell out in rent each month in Singapore, we could live in a massive villa with the help included.  Our needs are not so extravagant, and we know, from experience, living comfortably in Mexico is an easily attainable reality, where as living in Asia, it is beyond our means.

The tourists that think Mexico is just sun, sand and beach are missing plenty from this amazing country. I hate to admit it, but I was one of them until I married R2.  My love affair with Mexico began for me when I was still a teenager. Like many foreigners, I would fly to a beach, hang out for a couple of weeks and return to Canada with a glorious tan, a wicked tequila hangover and an immediate need for a liver transplant upon return.

[singlepic id=532 w=320 h=240 float=left]I was extraordinarily lucky that R2 saved me from this total misapprehension of his country, by introducing me to grutas (grottos), volcanoes, canyons, pueblos and pyramids, some of which are among the designated thirty plus “UNESCO Heritage” sites in the country.

When is the last time you saw a tree (El Arbol del Tule) that spans 33 feet in diameter, is over 2,000 years old, and thought to be the oldest tree in the world today?  Have you taken the time to meander through Las Grutas de Cacahuamilpa? These grottos are famous for their incomparable beauty and have fascinating stalactite and stalagmite formations that go on for miles making it one of the largest cave networks in the world.

[singlepic id=534 w=300 h=225 float=right]But, even better than the tour sites, are the people of Mexico. Of the 22 countries in which I have traveled, I have never found a people of any other culture that can match the friendliness, courtesy and kind consideration that I have found in this country.  While initially, the people are shy of us, they warm up quickly once they realize how much we love to be in their country.  R2 is frequently not recognized as a Mexican, perhaps because he has traveled the world so much and hasn’t lived there for almost two decades. But, when people realize he is “one of them,” they ask where he is from and want to know all about him, as if they are welcoming the “prodigal” son home.

[singlepic id=529 w=320 h=240 float=left]We will continue to research our home-away-from-home from the island known as “The Little Red Dot”,   And, while we have beaches, tropical palms and endless summers, there are many things about Singapore that are NOT Mexico. So, when I go to the beach here, I long for the perfect playas and the clear Caribbean ocean in Tulum.  When I see the Buddhist shrines and temples, I miss the churches of Puebla. When I stop for some roadside food at a hawker station in Singy, I yearn for a taco stand that serves up hot and spicy fish tacos on the way to Cuernavaca.

Until we return, we will continue to fly our Canadian and Mexican banderas (flags) from our penthouse balcony, so we can show our pride in our missing homelands.

Read more about Layna’s world travels at http://laynainasia.blogspot.com

Her work is featured on a National blogging website called Not A Tourist Singapore, and she is currently writing travel articles for Canadian newspapers.

While Layna travels the world with her husband and currently resides in Singapore, she and R2 always dream of coming “home” to Mexico, sooner rather than later. Recently, she gave up the corporate life so she concentrate on her writing. Layna writes a successful, humorous blog about the trials and tribulations of living in Asia at Layna in Asia. 

See Mexico through Layna’s eyes. Her wonderful, self-deprecating sense of humor lends comical irony to her writings and makes them all an enjoyable read!

While the stories I read in the media sadden and discourage me, hearing about what is happening in his own country must be heartbreaking for my R2. Please don’t for a second think we take the tragedies lightly and our hearts go out to the families of the people whose lives are forever changed from this senseless brutality.

The purpose of this story is to demonstrate the kindness we have experienced from one side of Mexico to the other, no matter where we go, no matter how many times the policia stop us, no matter what type of trouble we manage to get ourselves into.

R2 is a VIP owner of a splashy condo but even this posh place makes him antsy. He can’t sit for long and is always thinking of things to do. We were in Ixtapa, Guerrero, probably under a palapa when he said, “Vámonos,” to me. I tried to ignore him but I knew that look. He wanted to “do” something.

Normally we are somewhat prepared for a road trip, but this time we spontaneously jumped into our rental and decided to drive to a little secluded beach I had researched called Troncones. The only thing I had was a bikini and a coverup which I was wearing, and of course, what every person needs on the beach – high heels. We had no phone, a little cash, a camera and just a couple of towels to throw on the playa.

The Infamous Cover-up & Heels!

Now, when I say rental car, I don’t mean just any rental car. To this day, I believe this particular car was swapped for the weekend by the teenage brother of the rental car dude. It had no horn, the side mirror was cloudy with caked-on grime, and the rear view mirror was duct taped. What was also missing was gas but that minor detail escaped our notice as the gas gauge was broken.

Along the drive, we stopped in a pueblo, had some great grub and continued on our merry way. We enjoyed our brief time at Troncones, but it was time to head back for our daily “tequila on the deck and watch the sunset” ritual. We were scooting down a steep hill in this jalopy when R2 states, “There is something wrong with the car.” I knew by the tone of his voice, he was dead serious. I whipped around to make sure we weren’t going to be rear ended.

“Ah, hell no, I am not getting in that truck,” I think to myself. Luckily, another car pulled up at the same time. R2 spoke with this hombre chiquito (tiny man) and told me to hop in – we were out of gas, in a rental car we had just picked up. The hombre’s car was equally tiny, and yet he managed to secure two bikes to the roof. His wife was in the front and two sleeping kids were in the cramped backseat. How we managed to get our long legs in, I will never know, but I do know, I was holding a hot, sweaty niño in my arms. The man drove for miles but nothing was open. We were in the middle of nowhere. As he drove, he kept turning to talk to R2, forgetting to watch the road. This was entertainment for them and a great story to tell. We could hear it all now, “Stupid tourists forgetting to put gasolina in the car!”

Finally we came upon a station – thanks to God. Oh, but wait….they don’t have a gas can? The man, his wife and R2 start rifling through the trash looking for pop bottles. Now, I don’t know much about cars but isn’t sugar in the gas tank a bad thing? Meanwhile the kid wakes up and starts to play with the radio, blasting it and taking the car out of gear. I try, desperately to remember how to say “stop it,” in Spanish as I feel the car start to roll. All I manage is “no no” in Spanish, which is pretty much “no no” in English, as I reef on the emergency brake.

They find the bottles, fill a few and we are on the road back to our car. Not so fast…we have to get past the Mexican Army who has created a roadblock near the gas station. Of course, we have no passport or marriage certificate in the bikini. Why is this red-headed gringa with a bunch of Mexicans? R2 told me to slump down in the car, as if there was any room to slump. I am holding two, two-liter bottles of gasolina between my feet, trying to not slosh gas everywhere and he wants me to scootch down. Canada has got talent!

We locate the abandoned car, the man wedges a branch to open the tank far enough so R2 can pour the gas, which he managed to douse himself with, we gave the man a hundred pesos for his trouble, and we were on our way. You will be happy to know, we still managed to have our nightly Paloma on the deck and watch the colourful sunset (after R2 showered off the gasoline).

The moral of this story is…ALWAYS CHECK YOUR GAS TANK IN MEXICO…It is not the renters’ practice to fill them up when returned.

Dear people:

Don’t fear Mexico and the fear-mongering propaganda about the eighth largest nation. Most of the people are kind and generous. Be cautious, be smart and remember, you are a visitor in their country. There is far more to do in this wondrous place than get blindly drunk and insult these hard-working people.

One day we will get back to a place we both love, one day the drug cartels and the government corruption will subside. Until we return it is up to YOU to continue our love affair with Mexico!

We made it here, almost without issue yesterday. Parking and getting through Denver International was a piece of cake, the flight was good.

At the Cancun airport, we had our passports checked, and then went to a big area for our luggage. Upon entering this area, Cindi decides to go to the left to get “Scrappy,” our dog, “checked in” since the process took us a while in May. I went to the right with our carry-on luggage to pick up our checked bag. I stood around chatting with others while waiting for the bags to unload. With three planes coming in at the same time, the airport was moderately busy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see two men rapidly walking through the crowd lead by this cute little beagle (we’ll call him Drugy for the purpose of this story). He is moving around through the crowd, checking every one out. He looks like a “Kibbles and Bits” commercial in the flesh. He comes to me, quick sniff, then turns his attention to one of my carry-on bags, two steps and SCREECH….! Drugy spins around and goes back to the bag. He is going NUTS sniffing around one of the zippers, almost unzipping it. The men look at me, “Mister, may we look in the bag?” I begin to laugh, knowing what they will find, and unzipped the bag.

I pull out the dog treats that Cindi opened at the Denver Airport for Scrappy. The dog handler is not as enthusiastic since he didn’t find drugs. Drugy sits down on his hunches looking at the handler “can I have one? Can I, Can I..huh huh?” The other guy reads the label (amused) and tells me we cannot bring beef in, just chicken or pork, and he is going to have to keep the bag. He comments to the handler, Drugy may want one. The handler is now even less amused.

In the end, the handler had to take Drugy back to have his senses cleaned and reprogrammed for work, so they could finish the sweep. I was cracking up behind my sober face. The non-handler is still chuckling. Then Cindi shows up and asks, “What’s taking so long?” I responded, “You’ll never believe it! I’ll tell you outside.”

Luggage checked out, hit the green light and away we go.  I’m still laughing.