Returning to the US: Motocross Heaven and the Tow of Shame

We finally crossed the border at Mexicali East on Monday, January 18, 2021 at about 11:15 am. The dogs and I were waved right through without even being asked for their health certificates. The Joad Family truck was obviously referred for secondary inspection so I drove to a gas station adjacent to the crossing and waited. The bf was allowed to drive through the X-ray machine, which saved a ton of time. He fully expected to unload the entire truck.

We brought a laptop up from Mexico for some friends so we stopped in El Centro to ship the package and grab lunch. I wasn’t prepared for such a culture shock. It didn’t seem like I had been gone that long or maybe it was just being in California but I definitely felt out of place.

The same friends have an RV in the desert near Ocotillo Wells so we headed there to take a breather and hang out while my tire was replaced. By this point, I had driven approximately 350 miles on my spare. Totally fine, y’all. Our friends have a terrific fenced area for their very large dogs allowing Sherman to finally, literally, take a load off.

The RV park has a motocross track and it’s surrounded by trails. Lulu was predictably unimpressed by the off-road engines, but she was especially annoyed by a woman riding an old Honda two-stroke three-wheeler. The bf, who used to race motocross, thinks two-strokes sound like music but I only hear chainsaws on wheels. The track was deserted during the week so we used it to walk the dogs.

The next day, we drove both vehicles to Borrego Springs to fuel up and then dropped off my tire. We went to a coffee shop for lunch and Wi-Fi since there was no connection at the RV.

The coffee was good but not *that* good.

My Jeep died when we tried to leave and it made a weird electrical sound when I tried to restart it. I called the shop where we dropped the tire to see if they could send someone over but I was told they don’t do anything offsite. He gave me the number for a tow truck but that’s how people who haven’t lived in Mexico handle things.

Because the fence at the RV is short and the ground is soft, the dogs were with us when all of this was going down. There wasn’t anything in the truck that we could use to tow my Jeep back to the shop so we walked the dogs over to a NAPA and bought a tow strap. The way things had been going, I figured we would probably run into this type of situation again.

We stumbled on to a bank of chargers during our walk. All of them were out of service.

After completing the tow of shame back to the shop, we had to move a bunch of shit from the front seat of the truck into the backseat of the Jeep so there would be room for the dogs and me. We never imagined the Mighty Dodge would survive the trip, let alone save the day once again.

Wednesday morning, Aaron at the shop called to say he had to order a tire and it would arrive the next day. My alternator had failed (hence the electrical sound) so that also had to be ordered. We settled in and awaited his call to let us know it was ready.

Click the links below to see how we got to this point.

Returning to the US: He Literally Thought I Was Dead

Returning to the US: Sherman, I Just Really Need You to Poop

Returning to the US: Leaving Todos Santos

Returning to the US: First the Why

Returning to the US: He Literally Thought I Was Dead

We woke up Sunday morning in Guerrero Negro feeling better all the way around. The little place with the kickass breakfast burritos on Highway 1 just north of the Baja California state line was closed (Sunday!) but no matter. We were, as they say, cooking with gas.
Here’s the thing about roads in Mexico: Conditions vary wildly. For example, Highway 19 between Cabo and La Paz could easily be in Arizona, minus the phenomenal ocean views. In addition to being four lanes, it’s smooth and constantly maintained with wide lanes and shoulders. Hwy 1 is not like that. You can’t just set the cruise and enjoy the drive because it crisscrosses the peninsula a few times to get around the mountains. It’s a very narrow road without any shoulders (or guardrails) at all in most spots. There are quite a few very steep grades so you’ll be tooling along and then have a semi truck come barreling around a curve halfway in your lane with nowhere to go. There’s an area just like that a few miles before the junction with Highway 5, the newly completed road running along the Sea of Cortez. The windows were cracked for the dogs to sniff unfamiliar air. We were making good time and I was listening to The Very Best of The Cars. We had just cleared a very sharp curve with an extremely steep drop-off and two big ‘ole trucks across the center line and descended into a valley when my Jeep dinged at me. Initially, I thought it was the check engine light that was upset again but no…it was a low tire. The tire pressure system in my Jeep soothes my OCD because it shows the exact pressure in each tire and chimes at 25 PSI. I looked down and saw the rear passenger tire pressure dropping quickly so I hollered at the bf on the radio but got no response. As I slowed down, I was honking and flashing my brights but he just kept driving. Somehow, this happened at the perfect spot with a wide area for me to pull over away from the road. I knew we were very close to the Hwy 5 turn off and figured he would notice I was no longer behind him by the time he got there. My phone had zero bars of service but I sent a quick message to my mom, thinking it would send eventually. The tire was toast and my only option was to wait. It seemed like a good time to let the dogs stretch their legs and grab some water. A few minutes later, I saw the Mighty Dodge hauling ass in our direction. His first words were “I thought you were dead!” He went on to describe the scenario he imagined: My dogs and I were dead at the bottom of a canyon after being forced off the road by one of those trucks. There may have been some bargaining with a higher power. After realizing I was gone, he noticed his radio was turned off. It seems the battery drained because the USB port in the Mighty Dodge failed to charge it. So he really had no idea where he had lost me. Accessing the spare tire in this particular Jeep model is a giant pain in the ass when it’s loaded. Remember the Cherokees that had the FULL SIZE spare on the driver’s side of the cargo area? Ahhh…the good ‘ole days.  After unloading everything I had masterfully fit in the back, he changed the tire and we were back in action. I sent my mom another message to let her know we were on the move.
Photo courtesy Andrew Stack
So there I was rolling through Baja on a donut with the check engine light flashing and beeping at me at random intervals. There was no chance of dealing with the tire in Mexico because it was Sunday and we didn’t want my battery to get stolen. Yep…that’s a thing. We stopped in San Felipe for fuel and food. The gas station attendant actually complimented my Spanish, which was hilarious because my Spanish is virtually nonexistent. Despite the delay, we still felt like we could cross the border that night.
We passed through a final military checkpoint without any issues and made good time the rest of the way to Mexicali.
We arrived in Mexicali before dark and stopped at McDonald’s to double check directions to the border crossings. As I watched the Mighty Dodge make the left turn, I noticed the front driver’s side tire was flat. Are you fucking kidding me right now? Initially, the truck only needed to make it to Baja where it was to be discarded. That it had survived to this point was a fucking miracle. It has needed an alignment for, I dunno, forever so the tires are being directly worn. A failure like this was obviously only a matter of when but it had already been a long day.
Photo courtesy Andrew Stack
We parked across the street from McD’s in a residential area and discussed our next move. It was pretty obvious we wouldn’t be crossing the border until Monday. We saw a sign that looked like it could be a hotel so I stayed with the dogs and vehicles while the bf took a walk to size up our options. He chatted up a couple ladies outside a pizza/barbecue place and one of them called her nephew or whatever who said he could be at our location in a few minutes. He showed up shortly after with his girlfriend and advised he had a guy who could help. He called the guy who said he would be there in 45 minutes. We grabbed some food and right on time, this 20-something dude rolled up in an S-10 pickup with all kinds of tools and equipment in the back. He took one look at that tire and we knew it was jacked even by Mexican standards. It was clear he would have to remove the tire and take it to his shop to switch it out. He wasn’t sure if he had a tire that would fit and the bf told him it could be a used one and it really only needed to make it across the border. The kid seemed dubious, which is always concerning in Mexico. Usually, it’s the other way around. About another hour later, he came back with a different tire on the rim. It doesn’t even come close to matching the other (also mismatched) tires and wasn’t even technically the correct size but it worked. Fifty bucks later, we went in search of lodging since the Mexicali East border crossing had closed for the night. It may have made sense to just use the main crossing but those guys were dicks when we crossed southbound so we decided to get a room and use the East crossing in the morning. Mexicali is confusing in the dark but we only drove around for an extra hour or so…it was totally fine. Click the links below to see how we got to this point. Returning to the US: Sherman, I Just Really Need You to Poop Returning to the US: Leaving Todos Santos Returning to the US: First the Why

Returning to the US: Sherman, I Just Really Need You to Poop

The dogs are amazingly adept at keeping me on a tight schedule. I began imploring them to take care of what I considered urgent business before first light.

While their lack of concern for my agenda did allow me to catch a beautiful sunrise, I was extremely worried about the status of Sherman’s colon. Dog moms know the poops occur shortly after each meal. He hadn’t done anything in nearly 24 hours and we had a long day ahead of us. Anyone who has had a dog do a whoopsie in a vehicle prefers to avoid any such emergency going forward.

Both dogs were still afraid of getting too close to the water. There were also other people walking dogs, which is always a distraction and they both wanted that stupid dead mouse. I wasn’t having a lot of luck.

As promised, the hot water was restored by the time we returned to the room. While I waited for the bf to finish showering, I noticed a Loreto Municipal Police truck on the beach.

I had forgotten the beach was supposed to be closed again due to the COVID numbers. It appeared the police took canine constitutionals much more seriously than violent crime because they were very quick to clear the area. I’m not saying Mexican police are corrupt but…wait, that’s exactly what I’m saying.

Mission-focused as always, I skipped breakfast to continue pleading for potties because I could always have a protein bar from my lunch pail on the road.

Not far from the hotel, I asked on the radio if the bf could check his mirrors for anything wobbly on my Jeep because it felt like the wheels were going to fall off at low speed. He said everything looked fine. We inspected all four wheels when we stopped for fuel and they really did look okay. I have a history of breaking shocks and struts on this vehicle so I thought maybe the Baja roads had finished wrecking my suspension.

The truck was pulled aside at the second military checkpoint for a cursory inspection. I was asked to step out of the Jeep and a guy just took a quick peek in the back after seeing the dogs. While the truck was being looked at, I parked near a restroom where some entrepreneurs were charging five pesos per person and *once again* tried to get Sherman’s bowels moving. There was a Belgian Malinois barking in a checkpoint kennel and my boy had no intention of relaxing any part of his body.

In order to avoid additional night driving, back pain, and stress we decided to stay at the Halfway Inn just outside Guerrero Negro again. They’re super accommodating with regard to both people and pets. The food is good and I had luck getting the dogs to do their potties during our previous stay. It’s not the nicest place but it’s cheap and clean.

We grabbed dinner at the hotel bar and crashed out early. The idea was to make the next day a marathon and cross at Mexicali Sunday night. Little did we know…

Click the links below to see how we got to this point.

Returning to the US: Leaving Todos Santos

Returning to the US: First the Why

Returning to the US: Leaving Todos Santos

We finally rolled through the gate leaving the house we rented in Todos Santos, Baja California Sur at about 1:30 pm local time on Friday, January 15, 2021. The check engine light in my Jeep had recently lit up again and pretty much every light on the dash of the boyfriend’s truck had been on since forever.

A few miles south of Ciudad Constitución, traffic came to a complete stop. Apparently, the protests over workers not being paid and general corruption were still closing the highway for hours at a time. After a couple minutes, some random guy rolled up and said he could lead us on a detour around the barricades. We would have to go back about half a mile and then on some dirt roads that we were assured our vehicles could manage. Since this was supposed to be an adventure, we were totally game but I should note that Americans and Mexicans have vastly different ideas about what constitutes a viable roadway. I had already shared my location with my mom and I’m not even a little bit ashamed to admit I sent her a message to let her know what was happening in the event our charred bodies were found without identification.

As we turned onto a dusty trail with very deep sand, I considered the weirdness I had recently experienced with my four-wheel drive and just really hoped I wouldn’t need it. There was a PT Cruiser stuck in the oncoming “lane” with a guy trying to dig it out with a shovel and I mentally willed the traffic ahead of me to keep moving.

Things started to get weird when the “road” became one lane. Driving in Mexico means being prepared to do things that would give your high school Drivers Ed teacher an aneurysm. Once the road curved back to the west, I was completely blinded by a combination of dust and bright sunlight.

At one point, I was barely crawling because I couldn’t see the boyfriend’s truck in front of me or whether I was about to drive off into the trash dump we were passing.

I don’t really know how much time this funny little detour cost us but we finally rolled into Ciudad Constitución at about 5:45 pm and I was already over it. We had planned to avoid driving at night but once again, we were breaking our own rules. We arrived in Loreto at 8:00 pm and got a room at a pet friendly hotel right on the malecón.

So about this hotel. Like, I understand it is literally *right* on the beach but US $150 is a fucking ripoff. But they know they have you. It’s dark outside and you’re not fiddle fucking around trying to find a more reasonable place. So whatever…I just wanted to take a shower and go to bed. Hahahahahahahaha….no hot water and the office had closed for the night right after we checked in. The remote for the heat also wasn’t working. This room wasn’t even nice and my patience was gone. Thank goodness for Facebook pages. I was able to send messages to management and they sent over a maintenance man, who quickly deduced the hot water was out in the whole building. I was told they would fix the electrical problem when the office opened at 7:00 am. He switched out the remote for the heater and I began trying to get the dogs to go potty next to the Sea of Cortez.

My dogs strongly prefer that water never touch their bodies. Or their paws. They have a serious problem with the Pacific Ocean but I thought the calm waves on the gulf side would be okay. I was wrong. After a long and frustrating day, walking around for what felt like hours with dogs afraid to do their business really was the cherry on top. But Sherman putting a dead mouse in his mouth on the beach was *chef’s kiss*. I went to bed pissed off and exhausted.

Click here to see why we decided to return to the United States.

Returning to the US: First the Why

I moved to Mexico for reasons that probably didn’t make sense to anyone who knows me. It was a rough year and three months which can be summed up in three words: Filth and sadness.

My experience was undoubtedly worsened by the COVID pandemic and the social circle I intended to cultivate never fully materialized. Some of that is totally on me. Unfortunately, I was dealing with other shit that just didn’t allow me the mental fortitude to venture out into the world.

We did not live in a gringo neighborhood. I initially tried to interact with people at mercados and along my walks but had difficulty getting people to even make eye contact with me. Locals tended to only acknowledge me if I was with the boyfriend and sometimes not even then. After a while, I just let that be. As 2020 wore on, I began resenting the locals and their dual price system. Their resentment for gringos was palpable. It was obvious they only tolerated us for our money and many merchants took full advantage whenever they saw an opportunity. There were a few exceptions but mostly it was constant financial fuckery.

FB groups were endless streams of locals complaining about Americans ruining Baja or “The Enlightened Ones” complaining about how Mexicans should keep their dogs on leashes, stop burning their trash, and wear helmets on bicycles. Some Mexicans saw dollar signs and charged outrageous rent but then other Mexicans complained they couldn’t afford to live in their own neighborhoods. Gentrification had finally arrived in Baja. It was just too much.

I developed a system, though. Mostly, I spent every day just trying to get through the day and a lot of that revolved around laundry and dishes. The dogs were on a schedule. The trash pickup was (mostly) on a schedule. I never knew what I was supposed to be doing so I basically just retreated to the things I knew how to do and when to do them. I certainly couldn’t take my dogs for walks because they would just be attacked by street dogs running amok. They say if you don’t like it, leave. I thought that sounded like a fine plan.

We spent much of 2020 watching Argentina to see if they would open their borders to foreigners. South America is a bit of a shitshow but Argentines are accustomed to financial meltdowns and they handle it pretty well. In the fourth quarter, it became clear that Argentina was not a viable option in the near term and a local murder in the middle of the day caused me to lose all patience with Mexico. Burglaries were a constant problem in the area but suddenly foreign women were being robbed at mercados and in front of banks on busy streets in the afternoon. That murder, though, was the thing that made me demand we get the fuck out of there. It wasn’t that there was a murder. It was the circumstances and the people who were threatened if they talked. Common sense says if you stay away from cartel shit, you won’t get involved in cartel shit. That’s difficult when it flows into a busy street and affects people just going about their day.

We then began daily debates (I’m being kind here) about when we were leaving Mexico and where we were going, which was fun. In the midst of that, we made dental appointments and got health certificates for the dogs. We sold our surfboards and his motorcycle (tagged in Baja California Sur). Both of our vehicles had fallen prey to the harsh conditions on the peninsula so we did what we could to prepare them for the 20-hour drive, which was only the first leg of our road trip. After a series of intense negotiations, we departed Todos Santos on January 15, 2021.

The next few posts will document our travels and the challenges we have faced along the way. As I’m posting this, we’re still on the road more than three weeks later. And still working on a destination.

Is Perception the New Reality?

People often say that perception is reality. This is true, in that people generally possess limited imagination. Binary choices seem to be the default settings. For example, government bureaucracy must be either full of hyper-intelligent evil masterminds OR incompetent oafs with room temperature IQs. The truth is far more complex and far more boring.

I’ve had a fair amount of first-person exposure to newsworthy situations which have been contorted into sensational conspiracies. Every single time, basic facts were disregarded because facts are boring. Now that we’re in the clickbait era of news monetization, it’s becoming harder and harder to discern even the simplest facts. Throw deepfakes into the mix and the disinformation opportunities become endless. Human brains just aren’t wired to process all of the data being thrown at them in the information age and no one has the resources to fact check every “news” source.

If you follow the news, you likely believe the border between the US and Mexico is closed. Even official government websites confirm this “fact.” I still see people arguing online about how it’s just the land crossings which have been stopped; air travel has been unaffected. The reality is tourists have been coming and going freely between the US and Mexico via land and air since the lockdowns supposedly began. Yes, flights to and from Cabo had been drastically reduced for a while but they never stopped…even when Baja California Sur was at Level 5 and hotels were supposedly closed. The BCS economy depends on tourism and that’s pretty much the end of the story.

The truth is that you have options but options can be overwhelming. Obstacles are overwhelming. There’s generally a solution to every problem but analysis paralysis is an easy excuse for sticking to your old patterns. You’ve already decided why that thing you would like to do won’t work. You don’t have to live in your current location. You don’t have to compete with your relatives or neighbors. You can expand your social circle to include people outside your political affiliation. You can have your own opinions. You can believe multiple things are true simultaneously. You can feel conflicted over complicated subjects. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.

The most important thing to remember is we’re easier to control when we’re divided and confused.

Ooooh…we have water again (and other expectations which must be managed)

A typical home in Mexico tends to have a tinaco on the roof and possibly a ground-level cistern because water delivery is tricky. Rather than go into a boring explanation, you can learn all about it here if you are so inclined. I have written previously about my frustrations in learning how to get laundry done when there is no water but it hadn’t been an issue for a few months. The lockdown gave me nearly first-world water pressure on laundry days and I was borderline giddy with excitement, aside from the whole people dying thing.

Once businesses reopened, I returned to my routine of starting laundry at about 7:30 am so I could do two loads before the pressure dropped. Keep in mind, the stackable washer/dryer is on the covered porch and is connected to the outside water spigot so the temperature of the laundry is the temperature of the water. It drains into the yard via an exceptionally attractive PVC pipe. Anway, I noticed the pressure dropping lower than normal a couple days ago and assumed there was a problem with one of the water mains so an outage was inevitable. I was right.

Yesterday, people in various neighborhoods were discussing their water situations online and there were scattered outages but we were still dripping along. When I turned on the irrigation to water the trees this morning, there was nothing. No big deal…we have the tinaco so we can still bathe and I can carry buckets from the kitchen sink to the washer in a pinch. If it drags on for too long, we can have a truck deliver water. I checked again at around noon and literally said out loud to no one, not even the dogs, “Ooooh…the water is back on.” I use terminal prepositions when talking to myself.

So this is my life now. I literally push my dogs out of the way to slay aggressive scorpions on the kitchen floor. I vacuum gecko shit from the window sills. I listen for the garbage truck every Friday morning and rush to meet it. I complain when the price of a 30-kg propane tank increases by 70 pesos (approx US $3). I can almost sing along to my neighbor’s favorite songs. And I get excited when the water outage is limited to a few short hours. Now I just need to accept that my Jeep will never run right again. This is Baja.

Who Knew I Would Be a Fan of Paying Bribes?

Most Americans are unfamiliar with the intricacies of paying bribes. It definitely happens in some industries to obtain permits and political favors but there’s usually some sort of quid pro quo rather than cash directly changing hands. In the US, citizens are extorted via citations for violations of obscure and often contradictory codes which somehow try to convince us the state can be a victim. The system is much more straightforward in Mexico.

Getting mail and packages delivered in Baja can be an adventure. From my first day in-country, I was told to never, EVER use the Mexican Postal Service for any reason because things just disappear. We’ve had 100% success with DHL delivering to our house. They honk at the gate and we’re off to the races. I ordered a mango slicer from China via Amazon Mexico and the end carrier they used was a local company called Estafeta. I’m guessing they don’t deliver because they called and let me know my package was ready for pickup. We live in a small town so it was barely an inconvenience. There are also local companies who transport letters and packages from the US to Baja so if you have a seller who won’t ship internationally, it’s no big deal. You just use their US address and they charge a fee based on the invoice amount. Easy peasy.

So we ordered an item from Amazon US and the Chinese seller offered shipping to Mexico. Yayzies! I tracked the package from Shenzhen all the way to La Paz and that’s where it stopped. Wouldn’t you know, the end carrier was the Mexican Postal Service. I sent the seller a link to initiate an investigation to locate the package since it had been there since May 14 and I seriously doubt they took any action. The bf was discussing the situation with our mechanic who just happens to live next door to a mailman. Our mechanic passed along the tracking info to his neighbor, who immediately located the package and agreed to bring it to town for the low, low price of 450 pesos (approximately $19.52 US). I have no idea if that’s what the mailman had to pay to release the package or if that was his service fee. I also don’t care.

There is a similar process for resolving traffic citations, expired vehicle registrations, etc. Rather than going to the police station and dealing with a lengthy hassle, you can generally just settle up with the officer on the spot and then go on your merry way. I appreciate the opportunity to expedite the process. My time is valuable and the rules are generally very limited. For example, dirt bikes do not need to be registered and are street legal. Yesterday, I saw a family of three riding a four-wheeler past the Pemex station. They were not recreating; this is a legit form of transportation. I do enjoy living in a place with limited rules and restrictions. The plumbing is garbage but the freedom is fire.

It’s sort of fun learning there truly is a workaround for everything. You just have to ask a local how to make it happen and have some cash on hand.

Is the Pandemic Canceled or Nah?

Today is the day beaches and most non-essential businesses in Baja California Sur reopen with limited occupancy rules based on a color coded system. This strikes me as odd since the Ministry of Health has predicted COVID-19 cases will peak this week as well. I totally get the argument for opening up and restarting the economy. I don’t get why we were on lockdown for months, having to sneak around to get exercise, and now it’s totally safe to go about our business while taking precautions. Yes, I understand the “flatten the curve” mentality. It just rings hollow when I see different rules for different types of activities. Everyone wants to carve out their own little niche exemptions. It’s like the people taking private jets to raise awareness for climate change. What you need is a bit more self-awareness.

Anyway, a few months of quarantine have been enough to cause this natural born social distancer to seek the outside world, albeit in small doses. We went to a beach yesterday where there is a ton of fishing and it looked like a normal day. Kids were riding kneeboards in the ocean. People were sitting under umbrellas living their lives. There was no law enforcement presence of any kind at the beach or in town. There were also no Marines in the freshly painted barracks guard towers. A lot has changed in the past few weeks.

I keep reading that quarantine fatigue is a very serious problem and it contributed to the high Spanish Flu death toll. Honestly, I’m feeling it. I was hypervigilant until a couple weeks ago and I’m not exactly sure what changed. Maybe it has something to do with seeing all of the protests on the news. Even some epidemiologists are saying these demonstrations take priority over staying home. I think there are quite a few people who would argue saying goodbye to dying loved ones and attending funerals should have taken priority as well but here we are. It kind of feels like the pandemic has been canceled but we should remember the pandemic also gets a vote.

We were told new cases would dwindle over the summer but then we were told a lot of things. I lived in Arizona for seven years and I’m telling you June is the hottest, most unbearable month of the year. Arizona’s new case stats are going bananas right now. We don’t have to wait for winter for this thing to cycle through again. Look at what’s happening in Beijing; they’re contemplating another lockdown due to a sharp increase in confirmed cases. I honestly do not believe Americans will entertain another lockdown. We tend to frown upon the government picking winners and losers and that’s exactly what has been happening.

I think we’re all just very, very tired. Our brains are being overwhelmed with stimuli and it’s too much to process. I can’t remember another time in my life when we were so close to a presidential election and it barely registered. Like, I seriously keep forgetting it’s a thing. Maybe I’m in denial in the face of two terrible choices. I can’t keep track of all the violence which merits a reaction of outrage and maintain my social distancing vigilance and function like an adult. As if all of that weren’t enough, this morning I learned Mercury is about to go into retrograde. Now’s probably a good time to buckle up and assume the crash position. 2020 isn’t finished with us yet.

Fallout from “The Great Pitbull Attack of 2015”

Don’t worry…I won’t share any photos of the carnage. That isn’t what this is about.

Five years ago today, my Plott Hound and I were involved in an incident with a pitbull that went from sweet as sugar to batshit crazy in .02 seconds. Lulu ended up with a permanently ripped ear and I took a ride to the ER in an ambulance. Doctors don’t like to stitch dog bites due to the high risk of infection but some of the wounds were gaping to the point where they had no choice. I received 12 stitches, two of which were between my toes. It was not a good day.

I know a ton of people who are afraid of dogs. Mostly, it seems that comes from a childhood bite which traumatized them for life. I would say 99% of my scars are from dog bites over the course of my life. Perhaps I’m learning impaired but I have never developed that fear, which leads me to the current situation in Mexico.

Nearly everyone I have encountered in Baja is afraid of dogs, to the point where they won’t even come inside the gate when invited. Whenever we have people come by to do work at the house, we have to confine the dogs first. This is probably because there are tons of dogs running loose all over town and they aren’t exactly shy. When we take the dogs to the beach, we drive them because walking is stressful as hell with random hellhounds charging from every direction. When I’m out walking alone, it’s common for me to be asked if there are any dogs from whence I came.

As long as I leave my dogs at home, I am perfectly comfortable walking alone and interacting with the local canines. Sometimes, they come charging at me like I’ll be their first meal in days and stop only a few feet away. Sometimes, they’re thrilled to see me and I get the full slobber treatment. I never know what to expect so I employ the over-the-top baby talk method. Each and every dog I encounter is the BEST DOG EVER! I maintain my pace unless they’re begging for attention. They seem to like it.

Maybe I should be worried but I think the fact that I’m not is why I don’t have a problem. They know I’m not afraid of them and they know I’m not a threat. What happened on June 8, 2015 is irrelevant. I hope I’m not jinxing myself.

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