Driving Hazards–Crossing the Border

The aduana (customs) at Matamoros, Mexico

The aduana (customs) at Matamoros, Mexico

We crossed at Brownsville/Matamoros entrance to México. We spent 6 hours at the aduana (customs office.) My part was easy. I received a visa for the maximum time a tourist can be in México (180 days) and went to the next window to register the truck and trailer for the same amount of time.

However when it came to our personal items, that was a whole different story. First, we were told to go to the aduana (customs office) who told my husband to go to the paisano (Mexican citizen) office, who told my husband to go to the aduana (customs office). And around we went. Finally, my husband told me to get out of the car and wait for him while he went with an official and our vehicle. So there I stood in Matamoros, no passport, no money and no idea what was going on. After 20 minutes I started getting worried, but my husband and my son did return on foot for me. He told me that the police could make a deal so that we wouldn’t have to pay more or unload the trailer, which would have taken all day. We would pay $7000 pesos and in return receive the permit to import personal goods, no inspection and special locks for the trailer that would need to be cut off. There really wasn’t any choice but to pay up.

We did not have the cash readily accessible, so my husband sent me with another person to the bank in Matamoros to withdraw money from an ATM machine. They kept my husband, son, vehicles and personal items safe for me while I went to make the withdrawal. How considerate.

Driving through the checkpoint at Matamoros.

Driving through the checkpoint at Matamoros.

We drove back into the US, then back into Mexico. Well, I had to drive as the truck was registered in my name. We stopped at 3 places and showed our paperwork. At the first one the helpful police officer had us wait until we were sure to get the green light (no checking) before we drove up. The second, no problem. The third verified that the sticker I had obtained at the office was the same as the paperwork I had. Again, not a problem. So basically, every official is in on this little game. And everyone gets their little slice of the mordida.(bribe)

Those locks that had to be cut off came in handy when we were stopped outside of Matamoros by another customs agent. He offered us two ways to go about this. The first was to unload everything in the back of the truck for inspection. We would not have to unload the trailer because of those special locks. The second option was a discrete $200 pesos. Since it was late in the day, we handed over the mordida (bribe) and continued on our way.

I won’t say this is the same for everyone who crosses the border into México. It may have been since we had a mixed family, since I was a US citizen and my husband and my son were Mexican citizens that targeted us for this little side adventure into Mexican bribery. As I mentioned, my part, as the US citizen was pretty easy. It was the importation of household goods that was the problem.

In comparison with the experience of my sister-in-law, my entrance into México was pan comida (a piece of cake–literally bread already eaten). She and someone else drove two trucks and two trailers from Nebraska to the Mexican border. Her driving companion bailed on her at the last minute and left one trailer sitting on the U.S. side of the border in the parking lot.

My husband and her husband had driven up with our truck and were waiting on the Mexican side of the border. They loitered around for hours until finally someone asked who they were waiting for. When they described my sister-in-law D, the official said that she had been there since the morning crying and crying on the U.S. side.

Entering México

Entering México

No bribe was offered this time around. D had to drive through customs, unload the trailer, reload the trailer, unhitch the trailer, return to the U.S. for the other trailer, unload the second trailer and reload it.

One trailer was attached to her truck and the second trailer was attached to my husband’s truck. This presented a problem a little ways down the road. They were stopped by the police (who were probably called by the customs police) and asked to show their documentation. As both trailers were registered to the truck that came from Nebraska, both must be attached to that truck, which wasn’t possible.

D, being an aggressive sort of woman, got down out of the truck while this conversation was being held. This wasn’t the appropriate thing to do and annoyed the police. (See Driving Hazards–police stops) D didn’t speak any Spanish, which further aggravated the situation. She became frustrated and even more belligerent in her attempts at explanation. Her husband didn’t help much as he kept assisting that the paperwork that they had was good. The police told M that he didn’t know how things worked in the U.S. but that they were in México now and that he’d better take control of his wife or both he and his wife would be detained. My husband took M aside and told him that he was just angering the police and to be quiet. My husband then went and negotiated a mordida (bribe).

But, apparently the police radioed ahead. Wouldn’t you know it, a second police stopped them not an hour later with the same issue. My husband negotiated a second mordida (bribe). At this point, as funds were getting low, he insisted they sell the second trailer and pile everything into the back of the truck. They parked at a gas station and asked motorists if they would be interested in buying it. Finally, someone agreed to buy it, but they would have to drive it to his house, which would risk another police stop, but as there was no other option, they did it. Then when they arrived, the buyer didn’t want to pay the price agreed upon, but again, there wasn’t much choice if they wanted to get back to Moroleón sometime in this century. Without the trailer, they were not stopped the rest of the journey. Go figure.

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Driving Hazards–Towns and cities

donkey in the grass

Give me country driving anytime! As you can see, country lanes are clearly marked and after the burro is done with lunch, the road will be as well.

In towns and cities, arrows are posted on the side of buildings to indicate which direction traffic is to flow, whether it is one way and which direction, or whether it is two-way traffic. Just because the road is two-way traffic for awhile, doesn’t mean it continues to be 2 way, so check the sides of the buildings often. Don’t base your assumption of traffic flow of motos, they have their own set of driving rules. And be aware that many roads have no street signs.

glorieta

This is the glorieta (traffic circle) between Moroleón and Uriangato. The conos (cones) represent spools of thread. The area is known for its textiles.

The newest fad in road construction is la glorieta (traffic circle). Technically the right of way goes to those vehicles traveling around the glorieta (traffic circle) but proceed with caution because apparently not everyone knows about that particular traffic law.

The hours to avoid driving near schools are 8 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. and again at 2 p.m. and 6:30 for the vespertino (afternoon) session. Cars are double and triple parked in no parking zones and traffic lanes to drop off students. Drivers are not in their cars since they have accompanied their particular set of students to the door to give them their bendicación (blessing) before classes begin. There are supposed to be transitos (traffic police) during these hours, but that’s not always true. There’s nothing to do but be patient.

Stopping in town is risky business. Public parking can be found, but may seem hardly worth the effort if you are just going to be a minute. It is tempting to park in those wide open areas that are designated as bus stops, but try to refrain from that. Buses have no qualms about taking your side mirrors with them as they pass. Good luck trying to collect on damages! Transitos (traffic police) also get testy if you are parked where you shouldn’t be for any length of time. They carry screwdrivers and will take your license plates right off your vehicle. You will need to go to the transit office and pay a fine to get them back. (See Driving Hazards–Police and traffic stops)

On our trip back from San Miguel de Allende, we missed our turn in Celaya and we asked for directions, which did us no good whatsoever since we couldn’t find the street we needed because it had no sign. We finally made our way back to the main boulevard and followed that to the end of the city, where lo and behold, there was our exit. So although preguntando llega a Roma, (Asking will get you to Rome) apparently preguntando (asking) won’t get you out of Celaya no matter how many people you ask.

Nine harrowing hours after we started out from Moroleón to San Miguel de Allende and back, we made it safely home. I understand completely now the custom my husband has of crossing himself and muttering a prayer before heading out on the road. I offer a prayer up myself nowadays because it really is a dangerous thing setting out your front door in México.

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Failing at your own business–Tianguis Flea Market

tiangus cerano

The tianguis in Cerano.

My son has a birthday coming up and we thought to rework his room to reflect his almost-a-man age. So he and I went through his things and took out the younger stuff–like the Bob the Builder suitcase, the Spidey posters, the itty bitty reclining chair and the like, to make room for other more manly decor. But, as funds are tight, we needed to sell the rejected items to buy other items. This meant a trip to Cerano for the Sunday tianguis (flea market).

So we loaded up the truck and headed out early Sunday morning. My husband secured us a puesto (spot). It was a pretty good spot, right next to the ice cream store at the corner of the callejon (alley) that goes to the church. We were up on the bridge that crosses the arroyo (open sewer drain), so by 2 pm the smell was a bit strong, but by then we had done all the business we had hoped to and more, so we left.

The first to greet us after we had our puesto assigned was Cowboy. He hangs about the tianguis asking for handouts and helping merchants unload for a few pesos. Although I hadn’t been to Cerano in over a year, he remembered my name and rushed over to help us unload. My husband gave him 10 pesos for his efforts.

Business was slow but steady in the morning. I let my husband do all the negotiating and just kept an eye on the merchandise. It isn’t like a yard sale, where the prices are ticketed and you pay the price on the ticket. An interested person asks the cost of the item. My husband responds with a price. The potential buyer thinks it over. My husband asks what price would be acceptable. The potential buyer names a price substantially lower than the proposed price. My husband responds with a negative and then points out the special features of the object of interest. Then he names a price 10 pesos lower than the original price. The potential buyer may name another price. My husband may say ‘ni para mi ni para ti’ and offer a different price. This continues until they agree on a price or my husband says the price they want to pay is too low and the deal ends. Occasionally someone walking by will hear the price my husband names and snatch the object at that price, stealing it away from the negotiating buyer. It’s all the same to us.

carnitas de res

Carnitas de res, a speciality from Cerano.

After misa, (mass) things started to get busy. While my husband did his salesman thing, my son and I went to the carniceria (butcher shop) that sells carnitas de res (fried cow pieces). Carnitas are typically made from pig and are not on my list of favorite things to eat, but these carnitas de res make going to Cerano something to look forward to. My husband bought tortillas from the 13-year old son of his cousin who died last year from inhaling light bulb filaments (I’m still not sure I understand that) and we chowed down.

Oh, did I mention that my husband is from Cerano? Cerano is a small town about 30 minutes from Moroleón and as different as being on Venus. The population is said to be about 4,000 and most of them I swear are relatives of his. Well, look that the logistics. My mother-in-law came from a family of 9 children, children of Mama Vira and Papa Rique. Her father Papa Rique also had a lady on the side who had 9 children. My mother-in-law had 11 children, although none live in Cerano at the moment. Her sister Lucia had 9 children, all of which live in Cerano. Her daughters all have 3 children each, some of which live in Cerano. My mother-in-law’s other sister, Tía Lena, the dwarf who owns the bar, has 4 daughters who have a variety of children. Another sister, Tía Jesus (yes, Jesus) has 3 girls. Basically, a good portion of the town reflects my husband’s features, some so closely that at a distance I have mistaken identity. One day, one of his cousins was at the house of the relatives that we were visiting, but without a shirt. I went to scold my husband for taking his shirt off, when I realized, just in time that this person was quite a bit younger than my husband, and wait, wasn’t him at all.

My husband, having lived there until he was 13, can identify and tell the stories of nearly all the residents. One man came along and wanted to buy a palo (shovel) because it would be useful if he were attacked. I thought this was a bit strange until my husband explained that this man was the uncle of Cowboy. OK. All in the family right?

cerano gang

From left to right– A, Mama Vira, my mother-in-law, Tia Jesus, Papa Rique and my son in the front

Mama Vira, Papa Rique and Tia Jesus stopped at our puesto to visit with us. We shook hands all around–our customary greeting. They looked over our things. My husband gave Mama Vira $20 for tortillas and I gave Tia Jesus a flowered comforter that we had out to sell. They shook hands all around again and left, happy with the day’s acquisitions.

cerano gang 2

My husband and Mama Sofia with Tío Felipe lurking in the background

Mama Sofia, the mother of my husband’s father, also passed by. She greeted me amiably enough on her way to buy meat for lunch, but wouldn’t look our way on the way back. Seems she hasn’t forgiven my husband for nearly choking the lights out of her husband, Tio Felipe (not the father of my father-in-law Porfirio who died after being kicked by a burro some 50 years ago) after Felipe had given her a beating. Felipe has tried various times over the years to murder Mama Sofia. I think she recovers out of spite.

Well, sales went well overall. We had $600 take home after paying for the puesto, cleaning fees, ice cream, carnitas, the family handouts and gas for the truck, which is more than I earn in 2 days teaching. It doesn’t pay to go every week, but once every few months is a nice afternoon’s work. Now on to remodeling.

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