The Furious Spinner

Yesterday we went to Mexico for the day. We had read in many places that we now needed proof that we owned our car; otherwise, we couldn't take it to Mexico. We didn't have our title, so we decided to rent a car. We went to a place in Nogales. The people were very nice, but the inside of the car was the ickiest of any car we've ever rented. But c'est la vie. We took it and we drove across the border.

No problemo. We drove through Nogales and got onto highway 15. About ten miles out of town we had to stop and get a tourist pass. We haven't driven in Mexico in twenty years, and this was new. If I hadn't read somewhere that we needed these, we wouldn't have known to stop. But we pulled off and went into this small white building with blue trim. They didn't speak English, and my Spanish is almost non-existent these days, so it was interesting. We filled out the forms, and then the woman said, "banco," which I assumed meant the cashier (bank), so we went back outside into the rain and the cold and got into line. There were other English speakers there and it seemed we had to get copies of everything.

So I went back to this tiny booth with two young women in it. They didn't look at me or anyone else, and they didn't say a word. I handed them our passports, driver's licenses, Mexican car insurance receipt, and the registration to our rented car. They made copies and handed them back to me, and I gave them money. It was mildly surreal. Then back into line again. Once we got to the "cashier," behind plexiglass windows, we learned we didn't need all those things. I said, "We're only going to be here for the day." Still, we had to pay $22 each to come into the country. (This seems acceptable if you're coming there for a week or a month, but for four hours? I've travelled to many countries, and I don't remember ever having to pay to get in.) The whole process took an hour.

We finally were on the road again. I wanted to get out into the countryside a bit and away from the border. I've always loved the colors in Mexico, the vibrancy of the colors. We didn't have time (or the resources) to go deep into Mexico, so this day was all we were going to get. Many of the photographs you'll see were taken in Magdalena. As usual, I am fascinated by doors. I do believe that thresholds, borders, boundaries can be profound, magical, beautiful, and/or awful places.

Some of the photographs were taken along the road (drive-bys). I didn't take many photos of the trash. There was trash everywhere. When I travelled through Europe, I noticed that some countries had terrible trash problems, and some countries didn't. Mario said this would be a great subject for a book. I said it wasn't one I was going to write. But how trash and garbage evolves. When do government entities come into being to deal with these kinds of things? Etc. Mario wondered if when we were children was there a great deal more trash in both our countries (Canada and United States). I have never littered in my life, except maybe accidentally. Trash and garbage spread across the earth has always distressed me. I remember this from when I was a child. I even remember chiding my father for dumping cigarette butts in a parking lot when I was a girl.

I did try to take photographs of the squallor in Nogales as we were leaving the country. I wasn't able to get many good photographs. It is appalling that there is so much poverty within yards of our country. It is appalling that in our own country there is so much poverty (i.e. Louisiana, Mississippi).

And of course, the Virgin of Guadalupe was everywhere. You can go here to see some of the photos I took this journey. (Mario took the photographs of the hills.)

After we left Magdalena, we went out into the country more. It was a beautiful drive through golden hills (mountains?). I kept thinking if I drove far enough I would find an Old Mermaid Sanctuary, I would find the place where I would live the rest of my life. I have this village, this town, in my mind, in my heart, and I thought I might find it in these mountains. We didn't find a town at all. I told Mario that I was sure I'd find some evidence of the Old Mermaids. Something. He reminded me that we'd seen a mural in Magdalena of a seascape.

All day I kept wondering how to create the life I want. How do I make a life that is sustainable, where Mario and I have a good home and good work, where I am contributing and creating my community. I've been feeling melacholy now that I've finished Old Mermaid Sanctuary because I realized I liked being there better than I like being here. So how do I make what I write into reality. Is that possible? Is it wise? Or have my expectations been warped by my wonderful imagination? I want an Old Mermaid Sanctuary here. In some aspects, I want Myla's life. I don't remember feeling this way before. In any case, we had an interesting time together, and we decided to head home before dark.

Then we drove toward la frontera. The line of trucks trying to cross the border was so long. We guessed it was at least a three hour wait. Fortunately we took a wrong turn and we got into a line that was only thirty minutes long. When it was our turn, we drove up to the booth. Three border people were there, two men probably my age and a woman who was in her thirties (maybe).

Mario opened the window and we heard one of the men saying, "I heard the more accurate translation of Crazy Horse's name is Enchanted Horse. Now doesn't that sound better than Crazy Horse?"

The woman asked us of what country were we citizens. We told her. She took our passports and ran them through a scanner in her little booth. She asked us how long we had been gone and what we'd done while we were in Mexico. She asked if we had any fruits or vegetables. I told her no, the cooler had food in it that we'd brought with us from Tucson. While we were having this conversation, this other border guard was still talking about "crazy" and "enchanted."

"Don't you like enchanted better? Enchanted bear." I wondered why he was going on and on about this. And who was Enchanted Bear?

The woman, who was very professional and human, asked us where we lived. We told her. I said we came to Tucson for a month every year. (In case she wondered why we had come all the way from Washington to go to Mexico for a few hours.) I said it had been cold and rainy all day. Then she said we could go. I forget how she said it because that other guard was talking about enchanted bear, and then I noticed what the woman's name was. The guards all had their last names sewn into their jackets. Hers was Crazy Bear. Just then I looked to my right and saw a beautiful huge glorious double rainbow. Mario started to pull away and Crazy Bear and I looked at each other and I pointed to the rainbow. She frowned, not sure what I meant, and then she looked at the rainbow and smiled as we drove away. This rainbow looked as though it went from Nogales, AZ to Nogales, Sonora, Mexico.

The last two times that we'd been to Mexico, we've seen a beautiful rainbow. Probably didn't mean anything—except that it's been raining a lot here. But they are beautiful, a threshold we can never reach no matter how much we try. We can't ever get to the other side. Except maybe in our imaginations.

Is that enough?

Labels: Arizona, Mexico, photos, travel

All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.