BajaNews - 1-29-2006 at 04:28 PM
http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/HL0601/S00194.htm
Meditations - Crossing the Border
25 January 2006
From Martin LeFevre in California
Crossing the border from America into Mexico viscerally brings home the differences that human cultures contain, as well as the essential sameness of
?human nature.?
The line of cars moves quickly into Mexico. Four guards languidly sit on a median to the right between the lanes. Without getting up, they sound a
bell, and our vehicle, along with most of the others, passes into Mexico. In the next chute however, a horn blows for a jalopy to be searched. At the
end of our trip, we wait for the better part of an hour in a much longer and more congested line to show passports, open the trunk, and answer
questions on reentering the USA.
Despite being just across the border, Mexicali is unexpectedly different, with an absence of the cultural oppressiveness one feels in North America.
Though a generally grimy and roughhewn city of nearly a million, people are friendly and open, despite our very limited Spanish. After a few days of
talks in Mexicali, we drive down into Baja to camp on the Sea of Cortez near San Felipe.
From San Bernardino at the northeastern corner of the Los Angeles megalopolis, south past the Salton Sea all the way down to the tip of Baja, it is
desert. Driving south out of Mexicali, there are green agricultural fields for a few miles, but then the desert terrain truly begins.
The land appears alien and desolate, with an increasingly stark beauty as the smoggy skies turn increasingly clear the further one gets from the city.
A hundred kilometers out, and the earth and sky melt into one another. Rocky outcroppings -?mountains of a sort ?loom on the horizon and grow closer
and closer.
Winding through them, they emerge as dark mounds and low, angular peaks, with sand permanently embedded in the pockets and crevices within and between
them. On the other side, the land becomes even stranger. Black rocks glisten in the afternoon sunlight; one forgets that it is January, and even that
one is on earth.
Huge expanses of featureless desert, flat as stained glass, stretch as far as the eye can see and engulf the mind. Next comes a veritable moonscape of
stone, distinguishable from pictures of the lunar surface only by the muted brown color.
Every few miles, rusted hulks of abandoned cars--tires and glass long melted away in the desert heat--stand as mute testimonials to the folly and
impermanence of man. More infrequently, and ominously, one passes a small cross, or an ostentatious memorial by the side of the road, bearing witness
to a life lost to carelessness by one driver, or negligence by another.
Encamped south of San Felipe, a full moon rises in the east over the Sea of Cortez (Gulfo de California) shortly after the tide goes out and the sun
goes down. After dark, the muddy tide-flats of the calm bay shimmer in the moonlight, and yet the luminous moon does not outshine Orion. Since the
campsites are paved for recreation vehicles, we had no choice but to set up our tent on the beach, hoping high tide at full moon won?t reach that far.
A Canadian couple pulls up in a van in the adjacent site. Beyond them is a large group of Americans with a dozen all-terrain-vehicles.
The immediate vicinity is a juxtaposition of small stone houses (a number with outdoor spiral staircases to their roofs), and quite a few permanent
trailers (with appendages such as porches tacked on), as well as the ubiquitous RV's. Together they lend a surreal atmosphere, especially walking by
the hodgepodge in the middle of the night.
The Canadian man has a superiority overlay of an inferiority complex, mixed with nosy intrusiveness and topped off by verbal abusiveness toward his
wife. The next day, the Americans drive their ATV?s all over. Even the small girls drive back and forth on the beach. The group caps off the second
night by letting their boys in their tribe explode full-scale fireworks on the tide-flats.
After all, this is Mexico, and transgressing the social and legal boundaries of North America is the reason many norteamericanos come down here. How
the Mexican people remain so good-natured is beyond me. It makes one wonder, why does material progress so often mean spiritual erosion?
mcgyver - 1-29-2006 at 04:51 PM
You have as the saying goes " Hit the nail on the head"
We as full time Baja residents and hopefully friends and interacting with our hosts we see it all the time and we are often embarrassed by the "Ugly
American"!
For instance: In the crowded grocery store Friday afternoon, a obvious first time visitor in a loud (eastern accent )voice to his wife" Well its not
as bad as I thought, the place is dirty but look the cashier looks clean and the guy at the meat counter was wearing plastic gloves, maybe they speak
a little English and we can get out of here" I happen to know that both persons he was referring too speak perfect English ! Who would want to talk to
the A-Hole?? Not me, my Dr told me to quit starting fights!
Capt. George - 1-29-2006 at 08:09 PM
The "Land of the Free" has moved south friend....no problema! lo siento amigo....buenos dias, buenos tardes, buenos noches all common before one
begins conversation or shopping or ordering.....
When was the last time you had an American kid, no more then 6 years old say, good morning sir, how are you today?
We're changing it though.....slowing but surely, the arrival of the maddening crowds...without patience or common courtesy...they're Mexicans ain't
they? they should be waiting on us....What's wrong with them, don't they speak Enslish.................DUH!!!
BajaNews, thanks for the great piece! <
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bajalou - 1-30-2006 at 10:55 AM
Great report Baja News - This is my home area and your report is right on--