On June 22 2010 I finally left the U.S. through San Diego - San Ysidro, into Tijuana. It was a very dramatic and emotional moment. I had been given a ride from Los Angeles and we did not notice the turn off, so we made it all the way into the borderline. It was the last time I was going to see my friends in many years. Who knows, I may not see them again. Yet we were barely able to say goodbye. They did not have passports and were really worried the had crossed the line and would be stuck in Mexico.
I had to leave the U.S. because of immigration problems. However, I thought I would not go directly to Spain, but cross over to Mexico. So, I would have the chance to travel all through the country until the Yucatan peninsula. Eventually, I would need to go to Spain, where I could start my visa application again. However, before Alia needed to register the marriage, so I had a few months I could use to travel through Mexico.
For some stupid reason, I came up with this stupid idea of crossing Mexico spending the least amount of money possible: that is, spending no money in hotels nor transportation. So, as cheap as little rooms may be in Mexico, there were still not acceptable for my stupid project. The transportation part was accomplished hitch-hiking. I first couchsurfed in Rosarito with Chef Chick, an old, liberal, American Vietnam-veteran, in his last months of life.
He had some really bad breathing problems. He had been told, he should have expected to be dead by then. But had been doing fine until then. He was starting to feel worse, however. At some point he said, maybe he was living his last summer. I learned one year later he died the Spring after. The week I spent at his place had been really good to me. Chef Chick was simply trying to enjoy the last years of his life and, at that point, the best way he could think of enjoying his time was helping out other people. One day I offered to teach him to cook a Spanish Tortilla. He was interested, but he asked me to allow him to cook it. He explained his illness had reduced him to almost nothing, but he was still able to cook. For one thing he was useful for, he did not want to be displaced. He was really nice to me. On my last day, we had a rather heated debate: I was explaining I was against country border and he, as an American patriot who had fought in Vietnam, could not make any sense of my point of view. As I would not back out he eventually became rather upset, but he realized I was just expressing my point of view. Then, he wished me all the best in my travels and my plan to rejoin back with Alia in Montana. Thank you very much for your help Chef Chick.
It was very special to be back in Rosarito. That's right, four years later, I was back in Rosarito. My first time in Rosarito, in the summer of 2006, was very intense: I got robbed in my first day. Shortly after, U.S. immigration did not allowed me to cross back to the U.S. to return to my apartment in Los Angeles. Then, I spent a couple of months in Rosarito trying to figure out how to be allowed back in the U.S. and working with the Guardias Judiciales to get my stolen backpack from Chavez, the 'clandestine' drug dealer who bought it from Jaime Pimentel for $200 in marihuana. Rosarito brings back many, intense memories to me: so much energy spent with so little result, but the friends I made during those months. The youngest of all those was Jorgito. He was about four years old in 2006. In my return to Rosarito, I did not miss the chance to visit him again.
From Rosarito I started a hitch-hiking trip for several days. Some family first took me to Tijuana. Then, two guys explained they would like to help me get to Tecate, but it could not be until the morning after. They still offered I spend the night in some shack they had.
As promised, the next morning they showed up to pick me up and take me to Tecate. The guy even gave me a coat, if I could make any use of it. It was the beginning of summer in the hottest place in Mexico. A couple of days later I had to endure almost 50ºC (122ºF) in the dessert between Baja California and Sonora, so it was not really like I was going to feel cold, but that coat did help me as a sleeping pad.
I was dropped off in Tecate. I had also been in Tecate in 2006, so, it again brought me a lot of memories. I had already remembered those days in Tecate in 2006, watching the movie Babel. In Babel, like it was my case in 2006, the Mexican nanny gets in real trouble crossing back the Mexican-US border at Tecate. In my return to Tecate I was able to fulfill the plan I had kept for those last four years. In 2006, walking around Tecate, I discovered a tunnel used to smuggle illegals and drugs into the U.S. My camera´s battery was dead and I was not able to take any picture at that time. In my return in 2010 I went straight to take those pictures.
After I got my work done, I went to have some food. Actually, I went looking for some place where I could watch the 2010 South Africa World Cup football game between Spain and Portugal. Clearly, the best option was a restaurant, so I also took the chance to eat some food. By the way, Spain won 1 to 0, so I was happy.
After the game, I was ready to leave Tecate and continue my journey. I took the road and looked for some spot to hitch-hike. It again took a while, and it was really hot, but, finally, some truck stopped. The truck stayed there for a while and I would not get the clue he was stopping for me. Finally, it stroke me and I went to check. The trucker was very frustrated I would not get it. However, he was really cool and cheerfully invited me to hop right in. Again the guy was really cool, because he even stopped for me to enjoy some sightseeing. However, he almost got in trouble: we got intercepted at some checkpoint. The Mexican officer was not friendly at all. He gave me quite some crap because he considered I had not been careful enough crossing lanes. He explained I should show respect for Mexican laws the same as my country's authorities require Mexicans to observe my country's laws. My friend, the trucker, very kindly asked him to chill out. The officer was really grumpy and inquired what was the deal with me, but the trucker simply explained I was hitch-hiking and he was only trying to help out.
The trucker gave me a ride all the way to Mexicali. It was sunset and somebody stopped again for me. However, he could not give me a ride all the way to San Luis del Rio Colorado. He offered I stayed at his place and he would take me to San Luis the next morning. He looked really sad and depressed. He explained he had recently separated, and he would appreciate the company.
It became really difficult to get a ride from San Luis to Puerto Peñasco. It was already dark and some guys at this gas station had seen me struggling, begging for a ride for hours. It was already pitch-black, so they started begging on my behalf for anybody to pick me up. Finally, some family finally accepted, but I would have to ride on the trunk of this pick-up truck. I said: "anything", and jumped in. I spent the next couple of hours, open-air, riding through the dark night. The worst however was yet to come. I had hoped once we would make it to Puerto Peñasco, they would have some suggestion where I could spend the night. But that was not really part of their business. So, as we were entering town, they simply asked me to jump out. It was midnight and I really had no idea where to go. I even looked to find some place among the bushes between the two ways of the road. I really could not convince myself of doing it. Finally, I stepped out and went to lay down on the side of the road. Three hours later, dawn woke me up. I was glad I had survived the night and decided to move out and visit the town.
It turned out to be quite a walk and my bags were killing me. But it still had to get worse as the day heated up. It was the very end of June and Puerto Peñasco is already in the Sonora/Arizona dessert. I think the hottest temperatures ever recorded in the world, have been in this dessert. It was freaking hot that day. I went to some library for some internet access and I saw the thermometer at 120 degrees Fahrenheit. Pending to cross the Sahara dessert, hopefully one day in the near future, that is the hottest I have ever experienced.
I walked some more, then went to the beach. The sun was finally setting and it was time to start looking for a place to sleep. Again, I could not find anything. I finally gave up and accepted to sleep again among some bushes on the street.
The next day I was ready to leave town and try to cross what seemed one thousand kilometers of dessert to Hermosillo. I had found some CouchSurfing host there and I was really longing for a few days of rest. Fortunately, enough people took pity on me throughout the day and I arrived to Hermosillo just after sunset. For some reason I cannot explain, it seems like it always starts up great, until you are almost there and then you get stuck, to the point you start fearing you will not make it to the end. I really enjoyed crossing the dessert, again on the back of a pick-up truck. It was funny to stop in the middle of the dessert, for some refreshments. Those guys treated me to some local special drink: it was some sort of frozen fruit juice. Under that heat it felt really delicious.
After some hours, they dropped me at some gas station. The thought of not finding a new ride and getting stuck there, was a bit scary, as it was right in the middle of nowhere. Finally some other guy stopped. He was some sort of teacher. He would be some months teaching in some remote place and then spend the rest of the year at home. He was the first to tell me about the Sierra Tarahumara. It sounded like a really beautiful place. But as he depicted it as these very green and humid mountains, just a few hundred kilometer of the hottest dessert on the planet, it seemed to me the guy was drunk or something.
I think it was Santa Ana where he dropped me off. I was so close! But then I got stuck at this gas station. I would beg and harass anybody who stopped there for gas, but nobody had any space for me. Again, it was the people working at the gas station who finally felt pity for me and start asking everybody to give me a ride. Finally some truck drivers did: I guess in Mexico truckers do not have deal with this insurance BS against stow-aways.
I was finally in Hermosillo! That night I was going to sleep on some bed and probably even have good food, Youhoo!!! I got dropped off at the opposite side of town, however. So, I still had to wait a few hours for my host to come pick me up. I was freaking tired and desperate. He did not show up until midnight. I had started to fear he would let me down. I was really not happy and thought I would never forgive him for doing that to me. However, the week I spend with him and his family was so wonderful, now we are best friends!
I extended my $0 journey through Northern Mexico for a couple of more weeks. I was still able to make it through the Sierra Tarahumara, into Chihuahua, and back to the coast to Los Mochis. As fun as it was, or shall I say, it is now to think about it, it was even more painful than reasonable. I just had to accept it was not healthy to continue torturing myself like that. So, by the time I was ready to leave Los Mochis, I went to the local bus station to buy a ticket to Mazatlan.
