La llegada

We crossed the border three weeks ago.  After a grueling first day on the road, we made it to the Houston area.  Late in the evening, we stopped at a rest area that described itself as "secure".  As I walked on the little raised wooden paths in search of the bathroom, I began seeing signs that were anything but secure.  "Beware of poison ivy" and the more sinister:  "Stay on paths.  You may not see them....but rattlesnakes are watching you".  After locating the bathroom, I got lost on the less than secure paths and ended up where all the eighteen wheelers were parked.  Great, I thought, truckers, poison ivy and rattlesnakes. 

The second day, we drove south toward Nuevo Laredo.  We had our car permit, our Mexican car insurance and Lola's paperwork, as well as our passports.  In true Mexican border fashion, we were waved through without even being asked to slow down, even with Lola barking like a vicious beast.  We actually wanted to get our tourist cards; Alec would be flying home and they ask for it sometimes at the airport.  We circled the town with its bumpy narrow roads for at least an hour and could not find a customs area.  We drove by the river where Mexicans hung out on oneside and Border Patrol sat staring at them from the other.  We finally gave up and headed south.  About ten miles out of town, we were stopped at a customs checkpoint.  Good, I thought, maybe they can give us tourist cards.  The man at the gate asked for our passports, examined them, then asked us where the customs stamps were.  I explained to them that we hunted all over and couldn't find the office.  He looked at us, and told us to drive back to Nuevo Laredo and get stamped. 

We drove back angrily.  It was hot.  We drove all over town again.  Suddenly, Alec hit a massive tope that smacked the bottom of the car loudly.  The smell of gas filled the car.  Liquid was dripping from underneath.  We made it to the customs area and spent nearly an hour getting stamped, then slowly drove around the town, late on a Sunday afternoon, looking for a mechanic.  We actually found one who waived us into his yard.  Alec walked Lola while I stayed behind with five men in a junkyard while they checked the car.  They jacked it up, climbed under it, combed over it and revved the engine.  Finally, the oldest man told me there was not a leak.  We paid him twenty dollars and hit the road again.  When we hit the customs checkpoint, we were waived through emphatically, though we finally had the toursist cards to show them.  When we finally made it to our destination outside of Monterrey, all I could think of was beer, which was not being sold because of an election. 

Monday afteroon, we arrived at our destination near Lake Chapala.  The house we rented was even better than we had thought, with multiple terraces and a pool.  Lola snaked along the stairwalls and terraces as if she had lived there her whole life. 

We had arrived.