You boys like Mexeeeco?
Jan. 12th, 2007 12:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intjonathanWe were warned that it can be rather shocking the first time. Such poverty is strange to American eyes. Such differences so close together.
We left our condo in the Grand Pacific Palisades to visit a very proud, very poor country only 50 miles south. This alone strikes me as extremely odd. Why would you leave? Why is it so different?
The different question is not answerable, but the leaving question is an easy one. Food.
So after driving right in to Mexico (easiest border crossing ever...) we sped down to Ensenada to lunch at El Cid, then town to La Bufadora to get tourist-trapped and shout at the blowhole. Then the highlight, La Fonda. Then the supermarket for a bunch of liquor and cheap toiletries. Then the very nice border guard that let us through with two bottles too many. Now we're back and I went swimming and hot tubbing.
I don't know how I want to feel about the experience. I fancy myself somewhat familiar with the Mexican-American experience, having dated one, but the fact is I really don't know shit. And that's good for me to realize, but it makes me hungry and sad.
I do feel I should write more about it, but I'm overdue for sleep, and the eloquence isn't coalescing. I'll just leave this.
We left our condo in the Grand Pacific Palisades to visit a very proud, very poor country only 50 miles south. This alone strikes me as extremely odd. Why would you leave? Why is it so different?
The different question is not answerable, but the leaving question is an easy one. Food.
So after driving right in to Mexico (easiest border crossing ever...) we sped down to Ensenada to lunch at El Cid, then town to La Bufadora to get tourist-trapped and shout at the blowhole. Then the highlight, La Fonda. Then the supermarket for a bunch of liquor and cheap toiletries. Then the very nice border guard that let us through with two bottles too many. Now we're back and I went swimming and hot tubbing.I don't know how I want to feel about the experience. I fancy myself somewhat familiar with the Mexican-American experience, having dated one, but the fact is I really don't know shit. And that's good for me to realize, but it makes me hungry and sad.I do feel I should write more about it, but I'm overdue for sleep, and the eloquence isn't coalescing. I'll just leave this.
