Northern Mexico: Arriba!

Crossing the border between America and Mexico was a farce, but not in the way I had expected. Supposedly the busiest border in the world, but we didn't see a single American official. Instead our Greyhound bus just drove straight through to the Mexican officials, who waved us through. Normally I'd be relieved, crossing land borders around the world can be a real pain, and waste valuable time. But on this occasion we needed to hand in our entry forms to someone in US uniform (we'd been explicitly warned we'd have trouble getting back in to the country if we didn't hand them over). So we gave a Mexican baggage handler $10 to take our forms back to the Americans, and just have to hope he is as good as his word.

We arrived in Tijuana just a few minutes after crossing into Mexico. Having been there once before, I convinced Gemma we didn't want to spend any time in Tijuana, and recent news reports of illegal activity simply confirmed my thinking, so we stayed on the bus to it's final stop, Tijuana Central Bus Terminal (which is actually about 6km out of town). We didn't have long to wait for our connection, just enough time to enjoy a salad and spend a penny (or more accurately, 4 pesos). We were asked a number of questions as we bought our tickets, questions we couldn't answer because we didn't understand, which confirmed the need for us to pick up some working Spanish very quickly.

Nevertheless, through a combination of hand signals, grunts and much pointing we established the time and number of our bus, and at 3.20pm we boarded the TAP Comfort Service to Mazatlan. And I have to say, the bus was pretty impressive, considering we spent 26 hours onboard. The toilets were clean, the seats were large and comfortable, and the passengers friendly. And we were both given a goody bag containing a sandwich, cola, water, tea and coffee, chocolate and crisps. The bus stopped several times so we were able to get off to stretch our legs when we fancied it.

During the day several screens showed movies, obviously in badly dubbed Spanish, ranging from animations like Madagascar through to some horrors. The noise of which was quite disturbing as the evening got darker. However we amused ourselves by trying to spot holes or suitable places to climb over the border fence which separates American from Mexico, and snakes through the mountains like a miniature version of the great wall of China.

During the night we also hit one of many police checkpoints which seem to litter the route. Usually they target traffic heading north (presumably for the drugs trade) but for forms sake we were made to disembark at midnight, and carry our luggage through a brightly lit room. Every person had to press a button, those who generated a green light didn't get searched, but woe betide anyone with a red light! Fortunately we both got the green light, but we had to wait outside as one of our fellow passengers had their entire luggage thoroughly searched. By the time we got back on we were exhausted and fell asleep pretty soon afterwards, helped by the fact that the driver finally turned the movies off.

The following day continued much as the previous afternoon, we didn't get to see a huge amount of scenery from the road although there were a stunning amount of birds of prey to be seen circling overhead. Twice during the day the bus stopped, we were asked to get off, and then the bus was taken away for cleaning. Going from an air conditioned coach into the stifling Mexican heat was quite an experience, the temperature reaching over 30 degrees during the day.

In the late afternoon we finally reached Mazatlan, so we jumped into a taxi and made our way to our new hostel. The owner greeted us with the news that he was going away for a few days so he would be leaving his mum in charge, which worked out well for us. The hostel itself was absolutely lovely, not really a hostel in the true sense, we had a suite to ourselves, with air conditioning and ceiling fan, a well equipped kitchen including a fridge, and a seating area with TV. All for about $25 a night. There was also a large shaded atrium, and a computer/reading room. And it was just 3 blocks from the beach.

We asked the owner for a restaurant recommendation as we were starving and he suggested a seafood cafe on the waterfront 5 minutes away, so we dropped our heavy bags down and without even stopping for a shower we walked out into the night to find our dinner. The recommendation was a good one, and for about $10 we had shrimp tacos, nachos with salsa, and beer. Not without reason does Mazatlan claim to be the shrimp capital of the Mexico.

The following day we visited the local aquarium, a curious mix of local fish and more exotic exhibits. Whilst the tanks and museum (containing several complete skeletons of wales, seals and marlin) were interesting, we more curious about some of the displays in the aquariums gardens. One giant sea lion seemed intent on making a break for freedom, and had clambered on top of a flight of stairs used by the staff. They didn't seem too concerned, so we wandered in the opposite direction.

Gemma attempted to feed a sting ray, but may have been put off by my screaming "look out he's coming for you" and dropped the food. In fairness one of them did for Steve Irwin, proving that they have no respect for reputations, so I congratulated myself on saving my girlfriends life through my heroic early warning. I am still awaiting my commendation and invitation to meet Prince Charles, but I suspect it shouldn't be far away.

Elsewhere the gardens contained a couple of crocodile enclosures, an aviary and a disturbingly small cage with two of the most forlorn, depressed looking racoons I have ever seen, which rather took the edge of our enjoyment. Up until then we had been reasonably impressed with the state of the care these creatures had been kept in. The aviary wasn't much better, although we did see a large parrot manage to open a hole in the wire cage with his beak so he could fit through. But not for him a break for freedom, he was trying to get back inside. Maybe he'd been out on day release.

The following day we ventured to the old town. Catching a bus from our hostel, we paid a few pence to be driven at breakneck speed through the traffic towards our destination. Unfortunately there was no indication of where we wanted to go (to the cathedral) and my rudimentary attempts to ask directions failed to yield results. Given how close the word cathedral is in English and Spanish, and that my later attempts to say where is such and such (donde es) worked fine, I'm still a little aggrieved at not getting anywhere. So instead we found a nice little square and sat down in the shade as the midday sun tried to burn us to a crisp.

However, we did discover a baseball game being played in town. We both felt disappointed at not being able to catch one in the US, so we decided to make up for that. We walked across town as darkness fell, the humidity sapping our strength somewhat, but eventually found the stadium. We paid a little over £4 to get into the best section in the house and sat down with a cold drink to enjoy our first ever baseball game, Mexican style.

Mazatlan is apparently an indigenous word meaning "place of the deer", so the local side were named appropriately the Mazatlan Venados. But these guys weren't the meek little bambi variety, they were vicious stags, and they trampled all over their opponents, the Los Mochis Parrots. After the first innings (there were 9 in all) the score was 5-1 to the Venados, and despite a small fightback in the middle of the game the home side ran away with the game, finishing 13-5.

During the game we tried to work out some of the rules. The basics were fairly simple, but we didn't quite manage to figure out some of the finer points. But despite that we both had an enjoyable evening, watching a new sport, sampling some local cuisine (a strange chorizo that is diced up and smothered in lime juice and three different sauces, that all fight for your attention by stripping your tastebuds) and I even ended up with a new t-shirt adorned with the Venados logo. So despite sending several items of clothing home from California I've ended up refilling my bag.

The following day we returned to the coach station for overnight journey to Mexico City. Our hostel owners mother, furious that the taxi driver had charged us £3 to get to hostel, kindly drove us there instead. We said our farewells and hastily went to check in, desperate to get inside the air conditioned terminal. Unfortunately we found that our bus was delayed by 3 hours, so we made ourselves comfortable and picked up our books. At 8pm we went outside to check on the progress, but there was no sign of the bus. It finally turned up at 9pm, 4 hours late.

The journey was fairly uneventful, there were few stops and as the bus was more empty than full we spread out, reclined our seats back and fell asleep. Until the horror movie came on. Minutes passed in silence (the film was mercifully short of dialogue), suddenly punctuated by horrific blood curdling screams. I muttered a curse in the general direction of Hollywood, stuck my headphones in and fell asleep to the rather more pleasant sounds of Rodrigo y Gabriella, a pair of Mexican acoustic guitarists.

In the morning we made an unscheduled stop in the middle of the countryside so the driver could grab a coffee. There were a number of shabby children hanging around the stop, their parents selling used old clothing or bags of nuts. Gemma followed the other passengers lead, making a gift of some spare biscuits we had. We reboarded and eventually arrived in Mexico City only 3 hours behind schedule, so credit to the driver for making up a whole hour.