Mexican road safety is second to none. Driving back to Ensenada we again passed the military checkpoint. We were much more at ease this time. It almost felt routine to to exit the vehicle and let a young soldier ruffle around. We took the Mex 1D North, the "scenic" toll road this time. It offered some fantastic coastal views but we had to pass through four toll booths. At least the road had two lanes, a crash barrier and a shoulder, features that were missing from the Mex 1 we took on the way south.
On the way we decided to take a detour to visit an isolated fishing village whose name escapes me. Parker endured twenty seven k's on one of the worst dirt roads I have ever driven on. The result, we got to see some cows lounging in the sand and a Mexican family swimming in the lagoon. Even the grocery store was shut or closed down (its difficult to tell sometimes) so I couldn't get a beer to ease my nerves for the shaky ride back.
Returned to practically civil Ensenada and hungry, I wandered to the fish market where you find a kaleidoscopic array of tiny colourful taquerias, each with a woman yelling at you to eat. Order your fish tacos for a dollars each, wait as they are cooked in front of you and slop in condiments offered in a line glass jars and wash it all down with a Corona. Many of these taquerias have only space for four people to sit at eat at the bar. Later that evening Kat and I went to Hussongs Catina, a classic bar in Ensenada. It was packed but we managed to find some room to sit at the bar. Mariachi Bands play amongst the crowd, amplified. Occasionally someone will stand sing a song with them. Drinks are cheap, there is no air conditioning and the clientele is eclectic and you can smoke inside. This place delivered the goods, the kind of cantina I had been looking for all over Mexico. And I wasn't even afraid for my life.
Intending to let leave Mexico the next morning, we continued north on the Scenic highway, driving through the clusterfuck of Tijuana into Highway 2, to Tecate. Tecate is about thirty minutes east of TJ and the wait times at the US boarder are far shorter. We wandered into the plazza and I drank a beer on the shady outside tables while roaming trios entertained with Mexican ballads. We were so impressed with the town that we decided to stay the night and cross the boarder the next morning. I made the mistake of eating a bean taco at the Taqueria de Los amigos, which compared poorly to the fish maket in Ensenada. Then a few hours later my bowls put in there own two cents of complaint. We took at room at the best hotel in town, which was still pretty much a piece of shit. The hot water didn't work, then the toilet blocked up. When I complained the guy at the front desk just gave me a plunger. I hated Mexico.
We crossed the boarder the next morning without any hassle. It feels so good to back in America. You don't have to double think everything you put in your body and look twice at the people around you. Driving through the surreal Mojave dessert gave us time to clear out minds before we hit Las Vegas. The roads are straight and fast, some stretches are so long I could get through a third of a CD without turning the wheel. What a day. The contrast of Mexico to the bright plastic lights of Vegas was astounding. They compare like Kraft Mac and Cheese dinner to a fine pasta cabonara, though I'm not sure which it which. We found The Stratosphere, our hotel, and checked in. We got our first taste of the strip that night, walking under the electric moon through crowds of polo shirts and flip flops. We played carnie games in the Circus Circus casino ala Fear and Loathing sans hallucinagetics. We even won three stuffed toys that Kat plans to give to her Kats.
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