The effect of gravity near a black hole is so strong that not even light is able to escape, hence the “black” part of the “black hole”. That’s how I was beginning to feel about Mazatlan today, that we would never be able to escape its gravitational pull. Or perhaps on a less astrophysical sense, one could think of the Eagle’s song, Hotel California, where you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. After all, in an eerie coincidence, we checked out of Hotel Mazatlan in the morning, as we had a car appointment at the Toyota dealership to get our headlight put in, so we dropped the car off just before nine in the morning and were soon told that the original time of 10:30 was now 11:30, so we went down to walk the malecon, the boardwalk along the oceanfront, in its entirety and back again.
Upon returning to the Toyota dealership, 11:30 soon became noon before we were told that they could not put the headlight in because whoever had fixed the car previously had done a poor job and nothing would line up. I began to laugh when they offered that we should go back to where we had the work done and have it fixed properly. They joined in on the joke when I explained to them that the work was done in Honduras, and I would rather crash through the US border fence at top speed loaded down with contraband than go back to Honduras. So then they offered they could fix it, but it may take a while. They asked when we were leaving, so as always I told them that we were going all the way back to Canada today. Awkward looks and silence was exchanged, followed by some rapid Spanish on their behalf, and then a quote of 5 hours and 1,500 pesos was placed on the table. Deal. So Denielle and I enjoyed another day burning on the beach amongst a number of potato people (picture Mr. Potato Head, that is to say, people who are really short and fat such that seated on a normal chair with their back against said chair, their feet would fail to reach the ground, and would most likely roll with ease down a hill).
Optimistically we returned to the dealership at quarter after four, hoping that the car may be done early, ha, so we could drive for a few hours towards the border. Four became five, and five became six, and finally after almost losing my mind from watching Spanish Animal Planet and all the female employees dressed as children for National Children’s Day, our car was delivered at 6:30. We signed the papers and hit the road, making a run against the setting sun. I cautiously manoeuvred the streets exiting Mazatlan, knowing our luck with the city would leave us with some incident that would pull us back in towards the dirty core, never letting us go. But we managed to flee the city, and are now quite comfortably sitting in a hotel room in Culiacan, 230 kilometres away. Tomorrow will be an early start, with a destination of Las Vegas, and depending on the mood, perhaps Calgary will be the next stop after that, fuelled by Coke Zero no doubt.
Our time in Mazatlan wasn’t all bad however; it’s just hard to relax when you have already flipped the switch on to “go home” mode. But we had some relaxing days on the beach, buffing up the tans for one last time, and getting some mediocre surf under my belt. I thought I may regret not getting in the water for one last session, but now I think I regret that decision. Strong winds all day had turned my sunset surf session into a 2 to 3 foot high wind chop mess with strong ground swell pounding on my head as I feebly attempted to get out into the line up. I managed to catch 2 waves well on the inside after getting tumbled repeatedly for 20 to 30 waves in a row. Paddle, paddle, paddle, duck dive, hold on, tumble, hold breath, hold board for chance to breath, repeat 20 to 30 times. Anyway, no more surfing, just surfing the highways. May the border crossings be effortless and the highways smooth all the way home. I’m really looking forward to getting back to a regular routine where English is the first language and I don’t have to live out of a bag full of dirty clothes.
Quick update to be elaborated upon further at a later time, we made Culiacan to Las Vegas, 20 hours in the car, and are now shooting for Canada tomorrow. The race is on.
Tyler.
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