Whew! I made it! Bienvenido a Mexico!

I’ll be honest. The border crossing had me worried. With my trusty burro loaded down I looked like someone trying to smuggle junk into Mexico. I left Denver on Wednesday morning early and drove to Phoenix to stay with my parents for a few days before finishing the cactus leg of my journey. We bought one of those monster-sized travel bags you strap to the roof of your car so I’d have another 17 cubic feet of space. It’s too long to fit lengthwise (the proper way to install it), so I had to turn it sideways. It fits now, but just barely. And it looks funny on top of a Honda Civic. It’s so big that the added wind resistance killed my gas mileage by about 1/3. The guy at the border crossing had me open my trunk and look inside only one of my suitcases. I figured I’d get the vehicular version of the rubber glove, but I didn’t. When he asked what was in the bag on the roof I told him golf clubs. He must have liked my answer to the guns, bullets, and drugs inquiry because when I offered to open the bag he said it wasn’t necessary. Pretty trusting folks, those Mexican border agents. I bet their U.S. counterparts aren’t. As a side note, does anyone know what the border agents do when you admit to having guns, bullets, or drugs? And who does that anyway?

So there I was in Mexico. A lot of good stories start that way. Mine does.

Puerto Penasco is about an hour southwest of the Arizona border on the Sea of Cortez (Gulf of California). When I pulled into town I went straight to the office. Nothing says “welcome to your new job” like going to the office before unpacking. After the obligatory greetings I got the keys to my new digs.

Our place is a little 2-story townhouse in a recently constructed development on the edge of town – and by “edge of town” I mean away from the beach. It’s a comfortable 3 bed, 2.5 bath with tile floors and nice wood trim. It’s well built, but poorly designed. Who tiles the walls of the entire bathroom? But more specifically, who tiles the walls of the half bath? And who builds a kitchen with an electric range but no stove? And who builds a balcony but makes the door to access it an added feature? At least the AC works. I’m proud to say the company I work for did not design these townhouses.

I said earlier that our place is recently constructed. In fact, it’s never been lived in. It still has that new-house smell. It also has (or had) its fair share of quirks. For a while we couldn’t figure out why there was such a strong sulfur smell when we turned on the hot water. After draining the water heater we found the answer. The thing coughed out mystery chunks in varying shades of grey. I really don’t want to know what it is, so I tell myself it was just sediment of some kind. Luckily the hot water heater is outside.

The sulfur smell is gone from the water, but there’s still the aroma of dust. It’s the smell of the hot, dusty Mexican breeze you cover your face to avoid – only it’s in the shower. On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d rate this problem a 2. I’ll take a sedimentary smell over sulfur any day.

Despite a few hiccups, Rocky Point is sunny.