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We're In...
When Matt suggested that we ride down Baja and then ferry over to Mazatlan, I was wary. I was worried about
missing any possible presentations. After looking into events in Baja and planning for a tentative event in
Loreto, I said OK. I thought, well, this will be a nice transition into Mexico. Things will be laid back,
roads, though narrow, won't be so busy and things just won't be as crazy. For some reason, my blonde brain
thought that, because we were going to Baja, the border and Tijuana would be nice and calm.
What was I thinking??
First, I'd like to give a big sarcastic "thanks a lot" to everyone who ever said anything to the effect
"You're biking in Mexico??? Isn't that dangerous?" or anything similar to this that might have deterred me
from going there. Every single warning and "That's dangerous" talk came flooding back as we got our
passports stamped and biked through customs. On top of all this going on in my head, the ease and calm of
Baja was no where near. Even if I wanted to think of being scared, I couldn't.
The smell of fried chicken hung in the air along with the exhaust of a Toyota whizzing by - and it wasn't a
Prius. Playero and Ranchero music was screaming out of the cars waiting to cross the border northbound. A
low rider Honda with a spoiler and purple blinker lights had a car alarm that just wouldn't stop. Guys from
16 to 45 were just hanging out on the side of the road giving us their blessings. People were walking around
selling hammocks, mexican recuerdos, and Virgin Mary dolls. Cars passed by with anxiousness uncharacteristic
of my image of a Sunday afternoon, making merging into traffic completely insane.
This was pura locura. This was TJ, Tijuana, Aunt Jane, however you translate it, it equals crazy; kind of
like Tok, AK equals seedy.
The next hour was incredible and whenever I did have time to think, it was all bad stuff. Nevertheless, I
was able to give out a bunch of pencils and talk a bit about the campaign.
We arrived in Baja Malibu via pick up. Frankie and Jovania escorted us on the cuota (toll) road after the
supervisor of the toll booth wouldn't let us bike through - even after I gave him pencils.
So, even though my first day in Mexico wasn't exactly what I expected, we managed to run into, yet again,
nice people willing to help us out.
Viva Mexico!
Now off to find some flags to show our Mexican orgullo (pride)!
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