These Mexican border towns have taught me a geography lesson about our neighbors to the south. Matamoros is in the state of Tamaulipas. Nuevo Laredo is in the state of Nuevo Leon, which I never visited (too crowded). Now the border state is Coahuila, a word I can barely spit out.
I couldn’t see much difference between the three towns I’ve visited so far. All have tall palm trees, town squares with historical Mexican statues, and places for people to gather and sit in the shade. No one harassed me although I got a few catcalls (!) as I walked by, and prompted a few older men to ask me what I was doing walking around with a camera. One man about my age, who spoke good English, asked me what I was doing.
“I’m photographing the old, pretty buildings”
“You should go down to the square, there are buildings there from ‘54” he said as he squatted against the building. His brown teeth were visible.
“1854?” I asked back
“1954.”
Oh, I thought. Well that’s not very historical I thought.
“You can go to the east side and see buildings built in 1924.”
“I saw those, by the train station. What were they?” The buildings looked like part of an old fort.
“Those were used by horses to corral.” This man knew his history.
There wasn’t much to see along the border after my first hour, but I’m starting to like the small Mexican border towns for all that is within them: stray animals, old people on rusty bicycles, children in empty lots playing soccer, old drunks staggering down the street after an afternoon at the corner bar drinking tequila, and every now and then a nice home secured by iron-wrought gates and window bars. Orange trees bloom in the gardens, along with tall Texas Mountain Laurel and their big blue blossoms that attract bees, taxi drivers cruising the side streets looking for takers and honking to let prospective takers know a taxi is nearby, street-side juice/taco/corn vendors.
I was hungry after my walk and needed a quick meal. Sam’s Restaurant along a side street looked good enough, and the waiter spoke good English. The food was good, too: I had chicken and broccoli, something spicy with beef tips, corn and beans and a very spicy salsa with chili-topped chips. I tried an Indio beer (OK) followed by a Sol (better). The bill was $9 and I gave the waiter $2 of which he gave $1 to the other hostess. Soft rock songs, including "American Pie" by Don McClean, played in the background. I still prefer that music to loud Mariachi.
I am really starting to appreciate Mexico and realize with each day I am on this trip that I need to learn better Spanish. The international sign language of pointing at things and getting frustrated only lasts so long before frustration sets in.
I walked a bit more toward the western side near the town’s river edge and saw more of the same: families gathered outside their doors that bordered right on the edge of the street. On one street a hapless dog, another female, walked along, looking lost but most likely looking for a meal. She looked tired and in need of a good meal. The poor critter followed me a while, and seeing her broke my heart again. I have five more cans of dog food in my van and I am too far away from her to help her now. As I walked away from the nearby family the dog started following me, but I rounded the corner and got back on the bridge back to the US. With my near bad luck earlier today, crossing back into the US with a stray dog from Mexico is not a good idea.
It was after 4pm when I got back to the US side. I gave the border inspector my drivers license (he didn’t even look at my birth certificate)
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’m traveling through Texas and visiting the borderland.” I replied. “I find the Mexican towns so much nicer than the American towns”
The inspector, who wore a Hispanic name plate, agreed.
“The Mexicans keep their towns a lot cleaner than we do” and again the agent agreed. There certainly are things that we Americans can learn from our southern neighbors.
I had a good hours of daylight still ahead of me. There was nothing much in Eagle's Pass for me to see so I ventured off on Hwy 277 North to Del Rio.
Shortly after getting on Hwy 277 the distant mountains to my west broke into view. That site reminded me of Kevin telling me over our walkie-talkie radios while driving west from San Antonio to our new home in Arizona, "Honey, we're home!" I have now left the South Texas Plains and have entered Big Bend Country. This is my final week in Texas, and it should be the most dramatic.
Kevin and I stopped in Del Rio on our trip west that September of 2004, and many of the sites were familiar: the Del Rio Bank, the tallest building in town, the Brown Historical site, and the streets of the historic downtown. Nothing was open this late Sunday afternoon but the memories came back. I remember walking these streets with Kevin and having a good time. The cafe that had recently opened in the 1916 Hacienda, however, was no more and a restaurant had taken over.
The sun set over Del Rio as I drove off, but not before I stopped at the town's mall for an hour to write today's adventures, and a few minutes later at Rudy's, a chain BBQ restaurant that really impressed me. Not only was the place spacious, the staff was friendly and I ordered two beers for $4.01, Landshark Lager brewed in Margaritaville, FL. Country music blared from the speakers while sports--race car stuff--played on the flatscreens above me.
I like Del Rio, even if it is not even on the Rio and there is no town across from it to walk into. This town has character. It's small even to be interesting and yet big enough to have all the amenities like WiFi and decent eats for the road-wary.
Tonight I am going to spend the night at the nearby Air Force Base east of town. Tomorrow will be a long drive to Alpine where I will hopefully post my next day's adventures from the Holland Hotel. That place has its own brewery. And from Alpine it's back down to Big Bend for three days where I know I won't get the internet. I can't wait.
I love the ocean, I love the river, but it's the mountains that always call me home.
http://tourtexas.com/delrio/
I couldn’t see much difference between the three towns I’ve visited so far. All have tall palm trees, town squares with historical Mexican statues, and places for people to gather and sit in the shade. No one harassed me although I got a few catcalls (!) as I walked by, and prompted a few older men to ask me what I was doing walking around with a camera. One man about my age, who spoke good English, asked me what I was doing.
“I’m photographing the old, pretty buildings”
“You should go down to the square, there are buildings there from ‘54” he said as he squatted against the building. His brown teeth were visible.
“1854?” I asked back
“1954.”
Oh, I thought. Well that’s not very historical I thought.
“You can go to the east side and see buildings built in 1924.”
“I saw those, by the train station. What were they?” The buildings looked like part of an old fort.
“Those were used by horses to corral.” This man knew his history.
There wasn’t much to see along the border after my first hour, but I’m starting to like the small Mexican border towns for all that is within them: stray animals, old people on rusty bicycles, children in empty lots playing soccer, old drunks staggering down the street after an afternoon at the corner bar drinking tequila, and every now and then a nice home secured by iron-wrought gates and window bars. Orange trees bloom in the gardens, along with tall Texas Mountain Laurel and their big blue blossoms that attract bees, taxi drivers cruising the side streets looking for takers and honking to let prospective takers know a taxi is nearby, street-side juice/taco/corn vendors.
I was hungry after my walk and needed a quick meal. Sam’s Restaurant along a side street looked good enough, and the waiter spoke good English. The food was good, too: I had chicken and broccoli, something spicy with beef tips, corn and beans and a very spicy salsa with chili-topped chips. I tried an Indio beer (OK) followed by a Sol (better). The bill was $9 and I gave the waiter $2 of which he gave $1 to the other hostess. Soft rock songs, including "American Pie" by Don McClean, played in the background. I still prefer that music to loud Mariachi.
I am really starting to appreciate Mexico and realize with each day I am on this trip that I need to learn better Spanish. The international sign language of pointing at things and getting frustrated only lasts so long before frustration sets in.
I walked a bit more toward the western side near the town’s river edge and saw more of the same: families gathered outside their doors that bordered right on the edge of the street. On one street a hapless dog, another female, walked along, looking lost but most likely looking for a meal. She looked tired and in need of a good meal. The poor critter followed me a while, and seeing her broke my heart again. I have five more cans of dog food in my van and I am too far away from her to help her now. As I walked away from the nearby family the dog started following me, but I rounded the corner and got back on the bridge back to the US. With my near bad luck earlier today, crossing back into the US with a stray dog from Mexico is not a good idea.
It was after 4pm when I got back to the US side. I gave the border inspector my drivers license (he didn’t even look at my birth certificate)
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’m traveling through Texas and visiting the borderland.” I replied. “I find the Mexican towns so much nicer than the American towns”
The inspector, who wore a Hispanic name plate, agreed.
“The Mexicans keep their towns a lot cleaner than we do” and again the agent agreed. There certainly are things that we Americans can learn from our southern neighbors.
I had a good hours of daylight still ahead of me. There was nothing much in Eagle's Pass for me to see so I ventured off on Hwy 277 North to Del Rio.
Shortly after getting on Hwy 277 the distant mountains to my west broke into view. That site reminded me of Kevin telling me over our walkie-talkie radios while driving west from San Antonio to our new home in Arizona, "Honey, we're home!" I have now left the South Texas Plains and have entered Big Bend Country. This is my final week in Texas, and it should be the most dramatic.
Kevin and I stopped in Del Rio on our trip west that September of 2004, and many of the sites were familiar: the Del Rio Bank, the tallest building in town, the Brown Historical site, and the streets of the historic downtown. Nothing was open this late Sunday afternoon but the memories came back. I remember walking these streets with Kevin and having a good time. The cafe that had recently opened in the 1916 Hacienda, however, was no more and a restaurant had taken over.
The sun set over Del Rio as I drove off, but not before I stopped at the town's mall for an hour to write today's adventures, and a few minutes later at Rudy's, a chain BBQ restaurant that really impressed me. Not only was the place spacious, the staff was friendly and I ordered two beers for $4.01, Landshark Lager brewed in Margaritaville, FL. Country music blared from the speakers while sports--race car stuff--played on the flatscreens above me.
I like Del Rio, even if it is not even on the Rio and there is no town across from it to walk into. This town has character. It's small even to be interesting and yet big enough to have all the amenities like WiFi and decent eats for the road-wary.
Tonight I am going to spend the night at the nearby Air Force Base east of town. Tomorrow will be a long drive to Alpine where I will hopefully post my next day's adventures from the Holland Hotel. That place has its own brewery. And from Alpine it's back down to Big Bend for three days where I know I won't get the internet. I can't wait.
I love the ocean, I love the river, but it's the mountains that always call me home.
http://tourtexas.com/delrio/
No comments:
Post a Comment