Thanks again to Mike & Heidi for taking in two dirty hippies. Mike, we used your amazon prime account to 2-day you a pair of birkenstocks. Welcome to the club.
We’re riding south to meet Scott’s parents at a condo they’ve rented for a week. They want to see us
one last time before we head into Mexico never to be seen again. I suspect his mother thinks that her first-born and I are rolling straight into the not-so-warm embrace of a Mexican drug cartel, which leads me to suspect there will be a lot of crying this week. Crying aside, we’re looking forward to seeing his parents.
We’re less than 40 miles from the Mexican border. Because we’ve decided to cross at Tecate, instead of Tijuana, we’re actually more like 60 miles from crossing the border. This comforts me. As if the extra 20 miles that separates me from Mexico will be the added time I need to prepare. I feel as if it is March and we are getting ready to leave all over again. The nervous energy, the uncertainty. Except now we’ll be in an unfamiliar land with a language we’re only moderately familiar with. I took Spanish in high school and then relearned some for my job in Houston. My command of the Spanish language is far from fluent, but I can get by. Scott is in a similar boat. We bought a Spanish/English dictionary in preparation for those awkward/frustrating moments where neither they nor we understand what the other is saying. At this stage, communication will be exhausting, summoning all our energy to harness coherent thought into a second language. That century ride (which we have yet to do) is looking easy by comparison. Mental exhaustion is so much more exhausting than physical exhaustion.
But we have another week to delay any real worry, while we hang out with the ‘rents.