Wednesday, April 5, 2017
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Rock Bottom
The pain of the following event has been replaced by the
pain of a different event, which is the signal that it is time to write of the
preceding event. This event, this pinche pendejo crisis, set in motion a
day of pure grief, travelers’ woes, “Once upon a time in Mexico…” Dios,
this was a miserable day coming at the end of so many ups and downs over the
span of years wandering Latin America. This was the lowest or nearly the lowest
depending on how you look at it and what standards are used. Emotionally, it
was not the lowest although it was very low. Physically and financially and
legally it was the lowest. In terms of the van, my faithful steed El
Conquistador, it was rock bottom, although the time the rear axle bearing disintegrated on a Guatemalan mountain road was awful. Being stranded between the borders of Costa
Rica and Nicaragua with Cuban refugees was indeed a strain, but the chaos was
manageable because I was basically ignored by all but my own demons. But this
event, this chain of evil events in Mexico, was the opposite; the wolves came
at me from all sides, the moment I thought I was safely on the other side of
the storm another storm hit. It was one assault after another; there was no
where to hide, nowhere to run, no safe harbor, survival was my victory. The
relentless punishment all started with the horrible screams from hundreds of
dying pigs.
Labels:
travel
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