Quick trip to Chetumal

Last week a lady we know here, told us she was going to go to Chetumal, Mexico to get diesel for her vehicle and also stop at Sam's Club for some shopping. Knowing that we were anxious to cross the border, she asked if we wanted to come along. We had not yet been across the border into Mexico and were unsure of the details, so it was a very good opportunity to check the process out.

She picked up Rebecca and I. Christopher was in school, and Johnny did not want to go. So we left them in this country and made a run for the border. The border is marked by the Rio Hondo river. Mexico has a little warship suitable for river work there. The guards have very nice rifles, something more modern than I am familiar with, not M-16s, they looked like something made by Heckler & Koch. The immigration officer was efficient, but not the sort that smiles much. We did not interact with Mexican customs officials, although I think they inspected the vehicle we were in, while we were inside the building. Everything went smoothly, efficiently and soon enough our passports were being stamped. No one seemed unpleasant in anyway, though you wouldn't call anyone laid-back.

We traveled on an actual divided highway for a while. I noticed that the architecture of the houses was essentially identical to that in Belize, but otherwise everything was different. It's not possible to get a feel for a place through a car window, but everything seemed busier, more active, more ambitious. Presently we arrived at the parking lot for Sam's Club. After all this time it was a strange thing to walk from a vehicle through a parking lot to a store. Things that were once familiar seemed alien and unexpected.

For instance upon entering the store a young woman, an employee began speaking to me in a friendly way. Not knowing what she was saying, I smiled and told her, "no se" which means I don't know. I figured between the content, the accent and my appearance she would figure out I don't speak Spanish. Rebecca and Miss Joni stopped to look back to see what my difficulty was, and instantly I understood.

In Belize, if someone comes up to talk to you in a friendly way, regardless of any potential language barrier, they are trying to get to know you, be friends with you, or beg money from you. In any case, it cause for personal interaction. In Mexico, at a Sam's Club, it is just their job, she was the greeter, and interaction is neither required nor expected.

As we wandered through the store, I kept a look out for anything that might be a good buy. In the end we purchased a gallon of ketchup for 33 pesos which is about $3.33 and a bag of ten loaves of bread for 10 pesos, which is about a dollar. Otherwise the prices seemed as high or higher than here in town.

On the way back we stopped at the Super Santa Elana grocery store. That is sort of a very large mom and pop type store, probably in a life and death struggle with the Costcos and Walmarts of the world. Rebecca and I bought nothing there, though I was able to pay greater attention to the prices. Somehow in the Sam's Club, the lights, the music, something, just seemed dream like and it was difficult to do the currency conversion in my head.

We were only in Mexico for a few hours. That is not long enough to have a fair impression of a place. But what impression I got was that Mexico is just like the United States, except everyone speaks Spanish. I got the impression that Mexicans are industrious, hard working and that Mexico is a fully fledged member of the "first world". As we drove along the divided highway, I noticed a great big green highway sign indicating that we were headed toward Belice.

Back at the Belize border the Immigration official apparently remembered us leaving and didn't demand to see our passports. The customs official made an overly dramatic effort to interrogate me on my loaves of bread. Demanding to know why one was eaten off of, and if I did that. When I told him I had, he grew very stern and demanded to know why I did that. Laughing I told him, "cause I was hungry". With a big smile spreading on his face he waved me through.

I will not pretend that the sky is more blue in Belize than Mexico. Nor shall I say the air is any sweeter, or the breeze cooler. I won't even say that the people are nicer, but here, even the routine, official interactions happen on a more personal level.