don't go south for safety

We've been home for over one week now. Where is the ambition to write; let fingers fly over the keyboard to help elaborate our tale to you. We kept it gutter; we'll write about it.

From Vancouver all the way back to Vancouver in seven thousand kilometers.

It seems a roundabout way to get back to life, but the voyage itself, measuring distance and days, gas tanks and tacos, was one of the pivotal reasons to take on the road trip. There are plenty of hidden away spots at which one can stay hidden for days, within a few hours of our city. Setting a distant goal (Mexico) and then choosing a fairly slow method of transport to reach that goal (ie: not an airplane) affords one the extasies of a joy well earned.

Crossing borders, leaving the interstate system for rural Mexican highways, the change is visible instantly. These were the fruits of our labour; a hazy, less refined infrastructure, corrupt police turning blind eyes, the visible displays of monetary power. These vices are easily generalized about, but do seem pervasive enough to lead to the classification of the Mexican way to be a double edged sword.

It's so much fucking fun to go there and rip up the gnarly highways, but the speed limits are slower then in America. Imperial to Metric; a better method of measurement assigned to a primitive and dangerous system of roads.

Anyways, what I'm saying is that it is very easy to drive too fast to reach a destination a little faster then is actually safe, or to lay your eyes on three dimensional pornography while getting there. If you happen to fall into this trap, thinking that the Mexican Highway Patrol will let a Caucasian fly by for free, just remember the bit i mentioned about vice. They will close their eyes. They will blink at the right time if they know to. To get them to miss something fictional, of their own creation, you have to give them cash.

The only road to Puerto Penasco, a tourist town on the north eastern end of the Sea of Cortez , one crosses from Arizona to Sonoyta. The first impression one gets is of lawlessness. Though there is a police presence in the streets, the feeling of greed and suspicion is pervasive. It is that very force of supposed law and order that makes it scary to be there. The majority of the people one is bound to meet down there are friendly; a fact many people forget. You've just seen the northern side of the border. There are large reflective yellow road signs showing a stickman mother and children running, hurrying across the freeway; keep alert for straggling illegal immigrants suffering from heat stroke, sun parched. Back on the other side of the frontier there are millions upon millions being spent on and by the Boarder Patrol. The investment in the form of territorial and even racial protectionism is so vast. I won't go into the official reasons for it. It's trafficking in any form. Just across that protected border you get to see what the white and green government trucks protect their citizens from.