I write to you from a roof top patio in San Miguel de Allende. I am able to write to you because I found a wireless network that has no password; the archaic setup in the hotel lobby was a little slow, and wouldn't be ready for a second try until tomorrow.
Well, a lot has transpired over the last few days, and I think I am just going to run the highs and lows, since the epicness of the first posts were fairly verbose. We shall conclude this entry with some of Marissa's fine photo work. Let's begin:
We left Shaggy's on Wednesday and drove to Laredo, TX. On our way there we stopped in Austin, saw Marissa's new pad (quite rad and a sweet little centrally located neighborhood), and got some grub at a local hip cafe. We then packed it in and continued our trickle south. The dogs were peaceful, the road was straight, not much to say really.
We arrived in Laredo, the front desk lady told me I had already checked in. I screamed impossible. A bald man asked for a key to the room I was supposed to have, the desk lady laughed--she put Krugmen in Kuhn's room--we took Krugmen's digs and it worked out fine.
Made a bunch of document copies at the hotel.
Hit the border, the fear and excitement was palpable. We crossed and entered into the vehicle registration area. I went through the whole song and dance, and $60 US later, we had a sticker and hit the road. There was some confusion with the gatekeeper when we exited, but she waved us through. We then drove 16mi to the customs check point; why this is so far from the border, I have no idea. We pull up, the comadante in charge asks for my papers, I show them to him, and then he asks for Marissa's--WHAT? In my broken Spanish I say that she doesn't have one, and I own the car...blah blah blah, return to sender and we head back to the border. Perhaps he just wanted a bribe, or he wanted us to give away money, but we paid for her paper too, and headed back to the border. An hour later we arrive at the same checkpoint, and the bastard just waves us through with a chuckle--who knows?
No dogs they keep saying. Finally we land on a place, and I don't mention the dogs. We get a room, it turns out no dogs are allowed, but they say I can keep them in the enclosed vacant lot outback. Great! I put them there, they start barking, I decide to pitch a tent with the pups and we camp in the somewhat summer cool of a hazy Saltillo sky. We were junkyard jungle campers and it was fun. Marissa got dinner, and rocked the Spanish hard. We had an amazing pizza and caesar salad.
Next morning, up at 6am hit the road by 7 am and we were running. After the first gas fill up, I ask Marissa to drive so I can catch up on some sleep. We listen to NPR downloads of various talk shows, and I sleep like an open mouthed angel--After 2000 miles, I see how the dogs can do it everyday--the humm of the engine is like a warm glass of milk. 200mi later we switch off again and we near our end.
We decide to get off the main road and head to San Miguel de Allende. The guide book describes it as a lovely little colonial retreat for retirees. Marissa has to pee. I hit an unmarked speed bump at 60mph, and we immediately seek a bathroom. We make it in to town and get lost in the El Centro cobble stone one way freak out of San Miguel. My blood pressure rises several points and we exit the town to higher ground to regroup. Several hotels probed and none accept dogs--the fear begins again. Re-enter the town, two more denials in the fray of clostrophobic cobblestones, and I start gunning it up a road to higher ground again. We get stuck on a steep, I mean steep, hill, and I have to floor it and let of the clutch to try and escape a disastrous plummet--we make it, and my conscience is reminded that I need a new clutch sooner than later. We get to the Mirador plateau, a sweet tourist hub and there sits a hotel no in our guidebook. I walk in very much in need of acceptance and approval. I go through my mantra: I need a room for two and I have two dogs with me. "Well how big are they," she asks. I say they aren't small, more like medium--a bold faced lie on the subject of Chops, but I was desperate. She talks to her boss, comes back, says it will cost me, I say fine, she types up the total, and for about $55 US we are in one of the nicest rooms of our entire trip. There is a view of the whole city, french doors, a patio with table, huge bathroom, two beds, a ceiling fan, and a TV. I sort of feel like crying, but I smile instead and take one of the deepest naps of my life.
After naptime we descend the great mountain down a series of vertigo inducing stairs. We walk through a park and find our way to the big cathedral and central plaza. Marissa heads into the church for pics, and I sit with the dogs outside; a crowd forms immediately. Once again people want pictures with Chops. Flow is a gracious little bitch and tries not to snarl too much at the ninos jamming their grubby hands in her face.
We head back up the hill and have the altitude make its presence very aware--we all were panting and in need of water. We cool down, drop the dogs down, go eat some Lebanese food in a tiny cafe, see some fireworks, and done.
Looking forward to marching into Mexico City tomorrow.
Goodnight.
Pictures: UHG! I can't get them to load. I shall put them on facebook.
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