Road Trip – Mexico
We left Austin around 8:30 am, after hitting Jo’s for some caffeinated goodness. We headed southwest, toward the little border town of Eagle Pass. The drive was pretty uneventful and we were at the border in probably 3.5 – 4 hours. Getting over the border was a snap-you simply cross the Rio Grande (which should be renamed the Rio Peque?o-its like going over a drainage ditch) on the International Bridge. We expected Piedras Negras, the neighboring town across from Eagle Pass to be a Trinketville with many similarities to a US city and not be much of a culture shock. Frankly, we were wrong. The town, a rock’s throw from Eagle Pass appears to be a world away. You spill into the town square-el centro de ciudad-immediately upon exiting the bridge. The square was humming with activity. Vendors were everywhere, people on bikes rushing around on the sidewalk, in the street, pedaling with a sense of urgency. Sarah and I knew we needed a tarjeta de turista-a tourist card to venture 20km or so beyond the border. We stopped at tourist information building right across from the buzzing square. When I opened the door to the office, I thought I was mistakenly in the wrong place. Two teenage boys were just sitting in the dark, talking to each other. There was nothing inside that clued you in that you were in a tourist bureau. I inquired about the tourist permit and they looked at each other in confusion. Although I have a limited Spanish vocabulary, I was confident that my question should not have been that unusual. They eventually just reached into a drawer and handed me a street map of Piedras Negras. I thanked them and left and looked up again at the sign, which read, “Tourist Office.” Hmm. We winded through the gridded streets of Piedras Negras following well-placed signs for the highway we were looking for. The contrast of Piedras Negras to Eagle Pass was amazing. Eagle Pass did not seem to have any center or downtown at all. All you see are familiar hotels, fast food chains, and billboards. Skip across the bridge and you are in a vibrant town with people milling about everywhere and an active street life. We stopped at a Holiday Inn Express in Piedras Negras to ask to inquire again about the tourist card. The hotel was bumped up against the sidewalk and not turned sideways as many similar hotels are here in the states. We realized that at some point on the highway, we would simply have to stop and go in a customs office and fill out paperwork for our short stay in the country. We were not prepared, however, for the Brazillian, soul-sucking experience of las aduanas.
The customs office was probably 20 miles outside of Piedras Negras. It was little more than a small office complex sitting out in the middle of nowhere. The office where we would process our paperwork was probably 50′ by 50′. It was packed with people taking care of various official obligations. We waited in a short line and showed our Mexico driving insurance, title to the car (it was expired- doh!) and some other stuff and more or less thought we were done. An agent said that we needed to make some copies and then wait in another line for some more paperwork and to get our sticker. There were maybe 30 people in front of us-but they were gathered in groups so we did not expect a really long wait. We were excited but patient and could handle a 30-minute inconvenience. An hour went by and we had not advanced at all in the line. There were no windows to look out, awful fluorescent lights flickered overhead, babies were crying, and it didn’t smell so good in there. It stank, actually. We did meet a great group of people from Dallas. One of them was a pastor and was visiting a church from what I believe was his hometown that was having an anniversary. He heard that we were concerned about losing our reserved hotel room in Cuatroci?negas and let me use his phone card (like Europe, all Mexican pay phones work by card only) to make a long distance call. When I couldn’t get through, a friend of his let us use his cell phone. It seemed perfectly normal to do whatever it took to make sure we were taken care of. They helped the two-and-a-half-hours go by a little faster. It felt like a small victory when we stepped out into the sun and could officially, legally travel anywhere in the country we wanted.
We set off for Cuatroci?negas a little after 4:00, if I remember correctly. The highway was a narrow, two-lane strip that sliced the desert. The land reminded me of that of the southwest United States, and was mostly flat desert with the jagged brown mountains in the distance. There were a lot of prickly pears and Joshua trees. You go through two small towns, Sabinas and Monclova, before arriving to Cuatroci?negas, which is literally in the middle of nowhere. One interesting thing about all the small towns we passed through was that they have very distinct entrances and exits. Every single one of them greeted you with a Bienvenidos sign and usually an arch that you passed under. The highway would then become an avenue with a median in the middle, and often contained well-groomed plants and palm trees. The curb on the median was always painted yellow and there were yellow gooseneck street lights in the middle. When you exited the town, you saw the same technique used, and would almost always see Feliz Viaje- Happy Travels, on the arch as you left the town. Also, as you approach these towns you have to be prepared for abrupt, exaggerated speed bumps. In the US, highways, interstates, freeways, boulevards, etc. have exclusive purposes. In Mexico, a highway where you could comfortably do 75-80 mph could have huge speed bumps and wide sidewalks as you approached a town.
Monclova is an interesting place. According to our travel book, the city has essentially no tourism. We passed a very upscale sushi restaurant on the way in. There were pizza parlors and a few familiar chain restaurants. We made one wrong turn off the main avenue on the way out of town and found ourselves on a residential side street. But when I say residential, understand that it is still totally urban. If you had found yourself on a similar looking street in the US, you would be convinced you were in the ghetto. There were dogs roaming the streets and dog droppings on the street and sidewalk. Buildings were crumbling and everyone was out on their stoop or sitting on the porch. I remember thinking that Mexican towns and cities have an odd tendency to be really walkable and pedestrian-friendly with the speed bumps, sidewalks, and emphasis on town plazas. On the other hand, there would be large sections of sidewalk missing in places, dangerous roads with no good places to cross and drivers speeding through the streets, frequently bolting through yellows and reds. Speaking of traffic lights, whenever a light is about to change, it will blink three times. For example, if the light is about to change from green to yellow, it will start blinking and then turn yellow for a shorter period. I quickly adjusted to this system and found it effective.
After exiting Monclova we did pass through a few tiny villages before arriving in Cuatroci?negas. Often in these small settlements, you will see Indians (I think they are Kikapu) lined up along the streets selling what appear to be cookies or similar treats.
We arrived in Cuatroci?negas at 8:00 pm, almost twelve hours after setting off. We found our hotel, the Hotel Plaza, with little trouble and walked across the street to the plaza. It was packed with people and there was an annual coronation of king and queen going down. I’m still not exactly sure what took place, but it was somehow connected to the Catholic church. We watched the runoff between Diana and Jaqueline, two teenage girls who were battling it out to be queen. I think whoever raised the most donations won. Later, we befriended a young woman that worked at the hotel named Fatima. It was a lot of fun to find out what her life is like in the little town. She dreamed of becoming a mother and was pretty surprised that we were married and in our twenties and don’t have children our immediate plans for a child. Fatima was genuinely interested about our home, what we like to do, etc. and it was a joy to talk with her. I spoke as much Spanish as she did English and although we struggled, there was really not much trouble having a normal conversation. Sarah and I are thinking of sending her a letter and maybe we can stay in touch.
Walking through Cuatroci?negas was a little unsettling at times. You would see people on the streets that appeared well-to-do or maybe slightly poor. But some of the living conditions *seemed* awful. Our travel book said that the city had great examples of “homogenous pre-1930 northeastern Mexico architecture.” There were so many gutted buildings and apartments with iron on the windows and crumbling facades or even missing roofs. The town was totally urban and I don’t remember seeing anything of a neighborhood or subdivision that had detached single-family homes. Sarah and I agreed that while some of the buildings looked to be in such bad shape, often they were simply old and need of repair-but on the inside living conditions were likely to be much better. Judging from some of the meticulous attention paid to plants, and tidy porches, you get the idea that despite the outside appearance, people lived pretty well.
We had been debating between visiting Saltillo, the capital of Coahuila or the country’s third largest city, Monterrey, which is in the state of Nuevo Le?n
. Some people suggested Saltillo was great for its colonial influence, but that it’s really dirty and industrial. But at around 800,000 people it would not be as hectic as Monterrey. Others said that Monterrey was too “American” and industrial but had some beautiful parts too. We decided on Monterrey. It was an easy drive from Cuatroci?negas but extremely stressful actually getting to the center of the city. In fact, we spent probably an hour lost in a suburb, trying to figure what direction the middle of the city was. Driving from the suburb to the city proved the “too American” detractors correct: there were a lot of familiar sites. We passed a huge HEB (think Kroger or Safeway) that looked like a giant, colorful Ikea store. There was a Sam’s Club, 7-Elevens, KFCs, Chili’s, etc. But once we neared La Zona Rosa, the core of the city, it felt more like a European capital, than any American city. The idea that people were dismissing Monterrey as second class because of its aggressive pro-business economy seemed ludicrous.