Border Patrols and Oranges and Casanova Brokers

It's not as easy to go to Mexico as you might think.

First the bridge for transmigration (we who are only passing through Mexico, not visiting there) is not marked very well. You just drive one way down the Military Highway that skirts the border and when you don't find anything, you turn around and go the other way. Then there's a big fiLling station where everyone gassing up is towing a bashed in car behind them. Cars headed for Mexico (and Belize) that someone will fix up and resell there.

We knew we were on the right track to the free trade bridge when we saw the warnings about firearms.

First we encountered US border patrol.

"She's going to Belize!" our guy shouted to someone, or everyone, else. Apparently that was a red flag. A man in a serious disposition and a somehow spiffier uniform came around to our car. He took my title and insurance card and told me to pull over. Hmm. Those are the words you don't want to hear at the border. It means Time Will Be Spent.

Have you gone to Belize before? So this is your second time? You've never been there before that? Why are you going? How much cash are you carrying? (And he didn't believe my answer. I guess we are light on cash.) What is your budget in Belize? (Are you allowed to ask these questions? I wondered.) I told him. He looked incredulous (about the cash again). I have access to money in the US while I am down there, I defended.

Oh, you have access to cash, he said, as though that explained everything.

Finally, after more questions, he sent me off. "We are just looking for firearms," he said.

"That was the US, next is Mexico!" I announced to my dad, prematurely it turned out.

The first men in orange safety vests waved me on. Then a shriek of a whistle and another vested man motioned me to stop.

"Buenas Tardes!" He smiled. "Are you a tourist?"

"No, transmigrante," I proudly used the word I had learned online from Mexico Mikes website. A passer-through, not a stayer.

Where are your papers?

I have a manifest, I started to say, again proudly because I knew in advance that it had to be translated into Spanish too.

Oh, he moaned to look at it. (Too much detail, I thought, always my problem.)

You need a broker, he told me.

No, I insisted, I called the broker from Wisconsin but because I was only bringing personal things (and because the broker and bonder together cost nigh unto $540) he said I didn't need one.

No, you need one, he told me. You go back to the US and get the paperwork.

I called Mario the broker. I had him in my cell phone.

"He doesn't even look official," I told Mario. "He's wearing an orange reflector vest and tells me I need to have a broker. You had thought I wouldn't need one."

"I hoped not, but it is up to them," he said. "You better come back to the US and meet me in Brownsville."

So I turn around, but...

It's not as easy to return to the US as you might think. Even if you haven't been allowed into Mexico.

I had to explain again and again (to the same guy) that we had Just been on the other side of the median 15 minutes ago, going through US border patrol. Then we were turned around by Mexican customs. We did not get to go anywhere.

I know the multiple questioning is to make sure your story doesn't change in the slightest. It's a truth-telling test. But it, at first impression, make it seem like we have not put our brightest minds at the border. How many times do I have to explain we were turned away and did not enter Mexico?!

It turns out that you cannot take oranges and apples over to the Mexico side, get turned back, and reenter the U.S. No Fruit that has touched Mexico air may be brought back into the U.S. it seems. This seems like a regular rule. I just don't travel across international borders by car all of the time.

"I'm sorry," I told the patrol. "Do we just throw them away?"

"No, they will have to be collected by the Dept. of Agriculture and incinerated," he said.

It seemed so harsh.

"So what else are you bringing back?" he wanted to know.

I'm not bringing anything back, I haven't been anywhere! I thought.

"You understand I didn't go into Mexico, right? They turned us away at the border." This is where I began to wonder about the brightest minds thing.

"Yes," he replied. "So what else are you bringing back?"

Stop saying I am bringing things back!

"No, nothing else" I said. "My dad wants to know if we can just eat these."

"You could ask the Dept. of Agriculture," he said. "We would still need to confiscate the peels. No citrus is allowed to come in that has been over to Mexico."

a) I have Not been to Mexico, and b) when was I supposed to have time to contact the Department of Agriculture? And would they really be interested in my orange situation?

We took it upon ourselves to eat the clementines as a blue-gloved woman walked over. (It turns out that she was the Dept. of Agriculture) and I was sad about the loss of three Braeburn apples, now doomed to be incinerated with the orange peels.

After a check through our vehicle, pups and parent removed, they sent us on our way to Brownsville to meet with Mario Casanova (real name - what are the chances?), the broker.

I was not going to be daunted by the grilling from the U.S. agents and the turning away by the Mexican officials. It's an adventure, I told myself. Then at about 9 p.m., after a confusing conversation with Mario at the local Burger King, a two-hour session in a hot stuffy office with an insurance agent to buy $58 of car insurance for Mexico, and another unpacking and repacking of the car to write the inventory in the way Mario instructed me, I thought I would crack.

We came back to the hotel and the dogs climbed in bed with my dad and I took a picture. He loves having them with us and they have chosen him.

"Do you think we'll run into the same problems tomorrow?" my dad asked as he fell asleep.

I laughed. It wouldn't be so good if I went into it thinking so.

Looking for a little peace and rest tonight and to have a goodnatured spirit tomorrow whatever may come. (That would be an act of God, btw.)

Believing tomorrow I will be feasting on fresh salsa en Mexico...
Susana