Teacte, MX Part Dos

I was going to write about all the drama that ensues when a traveler loses his wallet while in a foreign country... but you can fairly well guess that I forgot to use my Sunday School words.

Just as I had stripped off all my gear, and locked my jacket to the bike to prepare for the hike to retrace my steps of the morning, I got a call from the the bike shop -- someone found and turned in my wallet!

Oh happy day!!!!

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The trip down to Mexican border took us through some really cool canyons. I live the amazing scenery of this part of the world. The area seems to be an arid semi-desert, with mostly scruffy, tough-looking bushes among the outcroppings of rocks that appear to have been place along the landscape with the delicacy of Jackson Pollock splash of paint.

The road is the constant winding twisties that all motorcyclists love. I really envy the folks for whom this region is only a quick post-breakfast sprint away.

I took too long at the Kinko's in making my fake wallet, so the light was fading fast on me. My plan was to stop on the US side of the border, and wait until morning to deal with all the paperwork and such.
As I approached the border, I realized there's NOTHING on the US side. On the Mexican side, Tecate is a fairly large town/small city. On the US side, there are maybe six dodgy-looking shacks (IF that much!) offering currency exchange.

So, I enter Mexico.

It's quite amazing to me. On the Southbound side of the US/Mexico border crossings, the guys standing around with guns and badges are only directing traffic. As you pull up to the 'control' gate the arm swings up and the 'guards' hurry you along to clear the lane so more people can come into their country.

The US side .. ha! You don't want their armed guards waving at you for anything. You'd think their country was too full, or something the way they want to keep the Mexicans out. Or perhaps they're spitefully ignoring  the fact that statistically the country actually needs immigrants to keep the birth rate up, so the US halts it's decades long slide into being a nation of Viagra-popping, Depends-wearing old folks...

I inquire as to where I can get a Temporary Import Permit for my motorcycle, as required by Mexican law. Hmmm... not in Tecate is the reply. I'll have to go to Ensenda for that.

This is not a good thing to hear.

It's already dark, I've just entered a Spanish-speaking country, and I'm told I should ride the 110 kms to the next town to complete my paperwork.

Fat chance. I inquire about the nearest hotel, and am directed to Hotel Rosita.

Tomorrow is another day.