Crossing Over

Ciudad Mante was the spot to put things together for our sprint to a border and crossing over. We took in some shopping for our friends and family back home and had our last meal at Marsiscos Mante. I had shrimp & rice with a side of ceviche and a pitcher of lemonade. Pat had a fried freshwater fish filet. It was a pleasant meal, with exceptional people serving it in crisp white blouses ... and what does this have to do with the border? Going home is complicated. There are memories of what you taste.

Yesterday we left Mante and drove Hwy 85 north toward Ciudad Victoria I was reminded of my home many times. The roadside stands selling sugar cane syrup and oranges began to look like ones of my youth along old Hwy 41 to visit family in Tennessee, or along Hwy 60 thru Hawesville, Kentucky at sorguhm time. Everything kept increasing in size. The orange groves and the corn fields got bigger and bigger resembeling our agricultural practices. The signs in English increased. The size of cars and trucks also increased.

Gloria Kerouac traversed Mexico from one end to the other and back again. She is fearful of no borders. We were stopped by members of the Mexican military nearly every day we traveled at makeshift roadblocks where they were searching for weapons. The soldiers with the big guns were for the most part just kids. It was not intimidating. It was annoying on occasion. They enjoyed getting a look at the inside of Gloria with her bells & Whistles and they treated our property with respect and were courteous. With our experience, intimidation was not a part of the process.
If intimidation is the effect you desire, then wait for the crossing. Today, America’s communal psyche is visable at our front door and it is one driven by fear. Poor Gloria was X-rayed last night and searched from one end to the other.
Awoke at a Holiday Inn Express in Harlingen, Texas to the sound of Spanish voices in the hall ... busy housekeepers. I slept under sheets that had been washed and tucked over my bed by folks recently residing somewhere the other side of this border ... Is the border under that bridge with the big fence? ... or is the border an illusion? I don’t think I have crossed over ... maybe I will tomorrow.