A relatively safe trip across the border. Most of the time.

Yes people, here it finally is, the big Mexico update. Let me just get the big questions you all must have out of the way. No, I did not dance in a cage wearing a short skirt with a g-string underneath (although, trust me, plenty were, one, apparently, even without the g-string, with just a sticker on her ass). No, I did not end up sleeping with a random guy in the spa (though again, some did. One of us even went a little way in that direction...but I'll leave that for that person to tell). No, I did not flash anyone, not on purpose anyhow (damn you, bikini).

But then, the answer to the biggest question of them all: did I have fun? Absofuckinlutely!

Oh, seriously, it was so amazing. The american girls thing was just luridly fascinating, I mean, those spring break videos definitely have to need to exaggerate anything. The things these girls do...I'd be passed out before I ever drank enough to do them. It makes me wonder whether they actually thing they're having fun doing this, or only make themselves believe they are because they're supposed to.

Trust me, girls, there's plenty fun to be had without getting plastered and/or naked. Not that we didn't get drunk. Or partially undressed.

So, what did a typical Rosarito day look like? Wake up at ten, look in vain for the promised free breakfast (the travelling company promised much, but delivered, well, nothing), end up having a huge breakfast as Abuelita, lie by the pool/sit in the spa, take a nap in the afternoon (we napped a lot, and liked it so much we've all decided to make it a habit. Of course, for Maximo it already was), and then at night, burritos at "Macho Taco" and...Well, you're expecting "PARTY!", I know, but we didn't party, exactly, most of the nights. The first night we sat in the spa for hours, as I think I mentionned in the last post. The second night we did go out, to Club Iggy's. That's where we first saw the cage dancing, and came to the realization that American girls really have no shame. American guys don't have much either, though, dozens were lining up below the cage staring up, and others came up to girls (including me) and just started grinding away. Ugh. Not very appealing, not to me anyhow.

But, I have to admit, the party was a lot of fun. We went out of our minds to "hey ya" and especially to "Gasolina" (a very disgusting spanish song whose main lyric, "Dame Gasolina", literally means "give me gas" and more metaphorically "fill me up"), a song we've all grown to love in the past few days.

Talking of songs, incidentally, we had an IPod and two little speakers in the room, and it was great. I really want to have an IPod now that I've discovered how fantastic the interface is, I really love the little wheel, I think it's one of the smartest, user-friendliest things invented recently.

But, back to partying, that night at Iggy's was great. The following night we also wanted to party, and we went to Papas and Beer at eight already because we'd been promised a free dinner buffet. Guess what? There was a dinner buffet, but for "another group from mexicospringbreak.com". Bullshit. If there was another group, where were they? We decided to boycot Papas and Beer as a result, and ended up finishing a whole bottle of bacardi (combined with coke) playing "I never". Now, this is a very instructive game. And it gets more and more instructive, and revealing, as the players got drunk. But: what happens in 1217 stays in 1217, so you will get nothing from me.

Around 1 we decided to call it quits, but couldn't really sleep. Maximo and Jordan ended up going out, while Sylvia, Brigid and I had a really fantastic conversation in the dark. Really a great conversation. Around three, the boys came back, Sylvia sang her usual lullaby to Jordan, and all of a sudden it was our last full day already.

We spent it mostly by the pool again, a little on the beach, a little in the small streets behind the facade of the main street. I bought an awesome cowboyish hat and an even awesomer mobster trench coat, Jordan got himself an entire new wardrobe, and Sylvia got her hair braided. It looks extremely cool now, Sylvia looks like she belongs in Hawai. We also found a great little show that sold A4 size schoolroom posters, you know, the one full of images detailing history, science etc. I bought one of the skeleton of the human body and one of the discovery of the atom. All in Spanish, of course. They also had really cool little pulp (and porn) comic novels. I bought one called "amor assasino".

Back in our room Jordy and Maximo showed what truly great guys they are. Maximo gave a wondeful little speech about how great spring break had been and how great it was to spend it with this particular group (I think everyone agreed completely with him on that) and they gave us matching necklaces, with five little sea shells in a star shape to symbolize the five of us. Ain't that fantastic?

At night things were a little less rosy, unfortunately. Jordan couldn't find his credit card, and Maximo couldn't find his 80 dollars emergency money. Calling New Zealand from Rosarito to get the card blocked was, as you can imagine, not that easy. We spent some time in the room of some nice Germans (yes, they exist) we met on the bus playing more drinking games, this time with cards, but by that time I was a bit tired of Bacardi and Coke and even alcohol in general (getting drunk three nights in a row is plenty for me), so I didn't really join in. After a while we went out to Papas and Beer, but after getting there I realised I really felt to tired to party, I went back to the hotel and was able to sleep four wonderful hours alone in bed. Ahhhh, that was good...Because you see, five people in two queen size beds? It's cosy, sure, it's gezellig, but it's not all that comfy.

Thursday we were sad to have to go, but it took us much less time that we thought to long for home. See, first the bus was late. Half an hour late. Then, close to the border, it hit a taxi.

Yes, you read that right. We hit a taxi. And I'm telling you, that taxi was not in good shape. To make a long story short, we stood still again for about fourty minutes, drove the 2 minutes it took to get to the border from there and? Stood still for at least half an hour again. Getting through the border wasn't actually that difficult, we just had to drag our bags through and show our passports, but the waiting was gruesome, especially since our bus had no air conditioning.

Now, I'm betting you think that once we passed the border all was easy and quick? Well, you think wrong, my friend. See, first there was bad traffic, so we moved very slow. Then we stopped by the side of the freeway, and well, didn't move any more at all. For about three hours. Waiting for another bus, coming from LA (and traffic was even worse in that direction) to pick us up, because apparently the accident hadn't left the bus entirely unharmed, and there was something wrong with the tire. To be honest, listening to the groaning of the gear box, I didn't have much faith in the bus to begin with.

To make a long story short, the trip that took us 3 hours on the way to Rosarito took us ten hours on the way back, and it wasn't until after nine that we finally got back home. Strange, that a foreign city can become "home" so quickly, feel so familiar.

Then tonight, hopefully, I'm off again, this time to palm springs, seeing James again (finally).

On a sidenote, it's April 1st today, which doesn't just mean april fools day, but also that I've been here three months. Three months. I really don't want to leave yet...These past three months were amazingly awesome, and I'm sure the next three will be just as great. And then, back to the netherlands, boring nine to five job? *groan*

Well, I guess I'll just enjoy myself while it lasts.

Cheers,

Hedwig

P.S. The title of this post was the motto of the bus company Jordan and Maximo used to get to Mexico and back, but seeing our trip back, it applies to ours a lot better.

P.P.S. For pictures: www.sylinla.blogspot.com . For a report from another perspective www.briginla.blogspot.com. Yes, blogging is contagious.