I'm in San Pancho, having arrived a week ago now, and boy, is it good to be home.
In this Part 2 of our road trip report, my brother Greg has some nominations for the List of Awards, Road Trip to Mexico 2011:
Ugliest Drive: Culiacan to Mazatlán. I second that nomination. Dry, desolate, unchanging, this was the most boring stretch of road besides parts of the San Joaquin Valley in California, which at least had some big farms to look at.
Most Aggressive Creepy Vendors Who Approach Your Car at Stoplights: Hermosillo, Sonora. These guys swarm and do not take no for an answer. One reached into the car and put his hand on Greg's wrist and/or bracelet. Keep your windows up and don't pay for any services (such as windshield washing) that you did not give the nod to. Truth is, we'd just as soon avoid Hermosillo altogether from now on.
Best Beer of the Trip: Bohemia Dark at Panchito's after unpacking the car!
Best Travel Partner/Navigatrix: That would be ME! Thanks, Greg.
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So I wanted to tell you a bit more about the Mexico border crossing and general feelings during the drive down. At the advice of Franny and Jack, we stayed at the excellent Holiday Inn Express in Nogales the night before crossing. Having got into the habit of rising early, we left the hotel at 6 a.m. and crossed the border at the truck crossing ten minutes later. There wasn't a soul ahead of us at Aduana. No trucks, no cars.
But we got the red light.
A group of customs people were sitting on a curb nearby. One of them rose: a woman whose turn it was, apparently. She waved Greg into a bay on the left. She was very polite. She opened the door behind the driver's seat and partially unzipped a suitcase, then another.
"¿Ropa?" she asked me. (Clothes?)
"Sí," I replied. She nodded and shut the door. She walked to the back of the truck and motioned for Greg to join her and open the tailgate.
Let me just say here that this truck was packed like a 5,000 piece jigsaw puzzle. There wasn't a gap anywhere. She pulled out a few things and peered into the dark depths of the truck bed, where she noticed Greg's compressor and raised her eyebrows. What is that? she asked in Spanish.
The compressor for my tools, Greg replied. She frowned. Then my smart brother said, "I'm a carpenter, and I'm going to volunteer at the community center and help rebuild a school for the children." (All of this being true except perhaps the part about the school.)
"¿Verdád?!" she said, eyes widening. (True?)
"¡Sí!" he replied. At which point she gestured for him to shut the tailgate, gave a big smile, and waved us on our way.
We high-fived for miles. Or rather, kilometers. If we'd had to unpack that truck we'd still be there.
Next stop, around 20 km down the road, was the car registration place. Big parking lot, still early, nobody ahead of us. Very nice guy in the first building checked, scanned, and stamped my passport and FM3 inside of two minutes. Then Greg's passport, and a quick peek at the car documents. He told us (in perfect English) what to make copies of, one each of Greg's passport, driver's license, vehicle title, and both sides of a car permit form Greg filled out right there with the guy's guidance.
Out to the next building, the hangout of Copy Guy. Copy Guy was sweet as pie. Greg was schmoozing with him in Spanish, so I went to the bathroom. By the time I returned, all done. 25 pesos, which is a bit over two bucks. Greg, having no pesos yet, gave the guy a U.S. five dollar bill. The guy was so happy he would've come with us to unload the truck in San Pancho if we'd asked him to.
Next, the Banjercito or bank building. There were 12 or 16 windows around the outside of this building, but only one person working...and there was someone ahead of us. How'd he get there? So we waited, maybe ten minutes, for the teller to finish with him.
Now, here's the new situation as of June 11, 2011: you have to pay a bond to import your car for the six month visa period. There's a big poster that tells all the new rules right there, and rather than repeat them all I'm going to link at the end of this post to Rolly who, as always, had it all correct and clear on his website. So we knew what to expect, more or less.
Unfortunately, although the new rules are clear, the poor people who are trying to manifest them seem not to have been supplied with all they need to do their job efficiently. I suspect the software sucks. It took forty minutes to complete the process once Greg reached the window, during which the nice man behind the window dealt with Montezuma-only-knows what kinds of glitches and difficulties. Several times he'd be typing away, very well and quickly according to Greg, then push "Save" or whatever and groan in dismay, at which time he'd leave his window and go into some office and do something and come back, then go over to the printer, then come back, then type some more, then groan some more....you get the picture.
He was unfailingly polite. At the end of all this, Greg had put 4200 pesos as his bond on his debit card, which is fully refundable upon exiting with the vehicle before the six month visa period expires. In addition, he paid 258 pesos for his FMM, or tourist visa. The nice man gave him his windshield sticker and told him where to apply it. Then back to the first nice guy, who rapidly stamped and processed whatever form Greg brought him from the bank window, then carefully demonstrated again how to apply the sticker.
Greg exchanged a few U.S. dollars at the exchange window and we were on our way.
Now, remember: this is just after 6 a.m. and there was nobody ahead of us. We were there one hour. My advice (at least until and unless these glitches are worked out, haha) is to get to the border EARLY in the morning unless you have a great love of standing in line and waiting.
I have no pictures of any of this. They don't even let you use your cellphone in this complex, and I figured a camera might not be appreciated.
As for the travel itself, at no time did we feel threatened in any way in either country. In Mexico, we passed a few federal police checkpoints, but they were uninterested in us. We also passed several convoys of military and were told that the military has stepped up patrols, especially in the Culiacán-Mazatlán area. We did not drive at night, and we used all the common sense we could muster between us.
Thursday evening, in Mazatlán, we went to dinner in the old part of town with Rena and Jeff. Plazuela Machala, restored and sparkling and ringed with sidewalk restaurants, reminded me of a tiny Oaxaca.

Near the Plazuela is the old opera house, the Teatro Angela Peralta, also beautifully restored and with a busy performance schedule.

The next morning we said goodbye to our fine hosts and began our final day of driving. After a while, we reached the outskirts of green jungle.
Due to an interesting series of delays, false starts, and coincidi, we were able to have lunch in San Blas with San Pancho friends Judith and Jesse. Greg and I had left Mazatlán at 7:45, then wound our way through the local desviación (I love that word -- it means detour), hitting the southbound toll road a bit after 8. Meanwhile, back in San Pancho, Judith and Jesse were finishing their last-second preparations to head north, encountering a few “things that had to be done” (mostly by Jess, or so reported Judith on our several emails and phone calls that morning). We were hoping to meet somewhere on the road for a farewell hug.
The cuota from Mazatlán is mostly divided highway. Greg and I sped along. Had we passed Jesse and Judith there, going in opposite directions, we may have been able to manage a wave if the northbound and southbound lanes had been near enough at the moment of passing. We didn’t. But as we made our turn-off toward San Blas, Judith called. They arrived at the little country intersection leading into the fishing village two and a half minutes before us, so we followed them in and had a delicious lunch of grilled marlin and shrimp.


After lunch, we went our separate directions. And yes, we got our hugs.
That was my first visit to San Blas. I plan to return for the crocodile/bird tour and to explore some more. The road from San Blas through Zacualpan to Las Varas was sweet. One of these days you'll read about it all right here.
Greg and I arrived in San Pancho at 3:20. Deducting our longish lunch stop and a one hour time change, our trip from Mazatlán took five and a half hours.
Do email or send a comment if you have any questions about the trip. I'd be happy to answer them.
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Rolly's Vehicle Permit Page
P.S. I still post every Friday, one way or the other. You can subscribe to San Pancho Vida using the RSS feed over there at the bottom of the left column ("Subscribe to this blog's feed"), so you don't miss any Road Trips...or the stories from my upcoming two-plus weeks in Mexico City!
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