Big Papa's Thanksgiving

So I made the drive down to Calexico late Wednesday, shelled out $100 to stay at a Holiday Inn Express (urp!) and crossed through the very porous border into Mexicali at 7am Thanksgiving. I love the expression "porous border"; it fits together well, like "hapless congressman" and "unbelievable hubris." When I say porous, I am not kidding: There wasn't anyone there. There was one guy standing around, who may have worked for the border patrol and two of those jailhouse revolving doors thingamabobs made with interlacing metal posts (like in the NYC subway). After that, no immigracion, nothin' baby...I have no tourist card, nothing, nobody knows I'm here....Of course coming back to the US the border presence is larger, but about one-tenth the size of TJ. For anyone who wants to sneak into Mexico (for whatever reason), do it in Mexicali/Calexico.


I turned down Mid-B's offer of Idaho Gluttony and decided to bus down to San Felipe for four days of noveling. San Felipe was probably pretty cool about ten years ago, when it was just a sleepy fishing village w/ a small expat community. Now the shadow of spring break looms large, with high-priced accomodations and clubs with names like "Rockodile" and "Boom Boom."

Mid-B said this trip was Hemingwayesque, but there really is nothing that romantic about it. Ideally, I'd go further into Mexico (mexico is huge, yes!) to the DF or Yucatan or anywhere but here. In a strange inversion, my corner in LA is more authentically Mexican than San Felipe, and San Felipe is more "American" than LA.

No, Big Papa would be disappointed. In a similar vein, one of my favorite quotes is from John Huston, who was lecturing at a film school when queried by a student:

Student: "Wouldn't you say, Mr. Huston, that in the first act you establish your characters, in the second act you develop---"
Huston: "You know what? You need to get yourself down to Mexico and get some whores."

Now all you literal-minded Moms can just chill out b/c E is not getting any whores. Relax. Eric is noveling and watching white trash SoCal folks drink their Coronas at 10 in the morning and say things like, "Lead on, Poncho!"

Here is a quick summary of things:

1. The porous border
2. The Mr.T sticker trimmed perfectly to fit a soap dispenser in some bathroom.
3. Bootleg "charlie & the Chocolate Factory" on the bus, pan and scan dubbed in Spanish, the 3rd major release ruined in Spanish-speaking countries (Spiderman in Lima, X-Men in Guatemala).
4. Dollars preferred over pesos in Baja.
5. Federales.
6. ATVs up the wazoo.
7. Trinkets up the wazoo.
8. Margaritas up the wazoo.
9. Smell of petrol.
10. Dirtyish beach.
11. Cool lighthouse.
12. Dead laptop battery :(
13. ATVs up the wazoo.
14. English everywhere.
15. RV parks.
16. Tents on the beach.
17. Sullen locals.
18. Suave locals.
19. Political say-what-you-want-to-hear locals.
20. ATVs up the wazoo.
21. Find my gourmet coffee place (yippee!)
22. Find my unpopular with tourists taco stand
23. Find my internet cafe.
24. Find my stride.
25. Americans who insist on trying to speak Spanish to waiters and bartenders that are fluent in English: "Dos beef, dos shrimp. Uno milk."
26. Youngish waitress uncomprehendingly wearing a T-shirt with the number 69 on it.
27. ATVs up the wazoo.

In the end I had my Thanksgiving dinner at the taco stand, where I consumed seven carne asada tacos and four Dos Equis. Big Papa would be proud. I had strange dreams. This was definitely a good idea.