nedelja, 17. julij 2016

¡Que viva México!

I was lucky. I mean, I'm always lucky, I used the past tense since I'm writing about the US, which are in my past by now. I was lucky for the Americans I met - they really improved my view on the US citizens or, better said, they were able to correct my stereotyped views. I still firmly mantain my opinion (a bad one) about the US as a country, but I will never again say that it has the highest percent of moronic population on the world. They made my stay enjoyable. I didn't visit the Grand Canyon or the Yosemite Park or you name it - I spent my time, as I usually do, in remote places with nothing monumental to see. Only with people to interact with. Be them norms or hippies, gay or straight, stoned or clean...humans.
From Valley Springs I went to Covelo in the Mendocino county. Was really lucky with the hitchhiking and made it there way quicker than I predicted. Enjoyed my wwoofing on a pot farm and did some $ work for the neighbors. The clay oven obviously became a must for me to do.

 And one morning, far from early, I had my stuff packed and Brandon (a farmer for whom Jesse and me pulled weeds every morning from 6 to 9) gave me a lift to Fort Braggs and my next chapter started.

 After a few short rides on the coastal 1 a totally stoned guy from Oregon pulled over (I realized how stoned he was only later). Stoned or not he wasn't driving too dangerously and we ended in San Francisco around 2am. Believe it or not, this is the Golden Gate.

 He, too, had nowhere to go and was kind enough to let me sleep in the car. Good thing, it was creepy cold outside. And foggy damp. In the morning I went to look for the train/bus station - have you ever tried to hitchhike form the heart of a big city? My thumb went to work again in Santa Cruz and took me to Monterey before night. Wasn't as cold as SF, but it kept drizzling all night long and part of the morning. The kind of weather that makes me feel shitty and miserable. Anyway, in Santa Barbara was sunny and hot and the evening was approaching. Even with the luck I had I didn't want to take any risks - I had a bit less than 30 hours left. Hopped on a bus to LA and a train from there to San Diego. Has your train ever been delayed because the crew that is serving it has not arrived yet? A stereotype or only in the US? The crew was "only" half an hour late and I was in San Diego at 3am, slept on a bench near the ocean and at 7am I was already on the trolley for San Ysidro on the Mexican border. I hope I won't get in any trouble someday in the future, but without even realizing (after a short walk) I was in front of a Mexican border official. And where's the American one? Shouldn't I get a "departed" stamp for my passport? Won't the homeland Security computer keep counting all these days as my illegal overstay? We'll see next time when I try to enter the States.
The Mexican border experience was most pleasant. I'm dead serious, no sarcasm in this. He asked me for my destination and I gave him the address that a friend kindly provided me with. "You're so lucky, you're going to a really beautiful part of Mexico!" was his only comment. "And how long do you plan to stay?" I froze for a bit and my heart skipped a beat or two. A tricky question, when asked at the Immigration. "Something like two months, then I will leave for Guatemala." Trying to play safe, not too short, not too long and with the clear implication that I already plan to leave the country. "Two months? Ah, I'm sorry to say it, but...."  Oh motherfucking karma! What now? WHAT? "... but you will still have to pay the tax for the full 6 months stay." The fuck he just said? Fucking 6 months? Are you fucking kidding me? And that was it. Paid 300 and something pesos and got my "visitante card". I had to check twice to confirm that it really states "allowed for 180 days".
And I walked into Tijuana with a new look, more local-like.... :D