Farewell Tropic Star

April 9th ... one week beyond our three month booking in Pharr, Texas we felt it was time for us to begin our homeward trek.  Being restricted as to how much time we can be out of Canada really curtails our travels.  Where we would like to go and where weather permits us to go during our allotted exile are two different things!  So in order to comply with government mandates we had to bid adieu to fellow Winter Texans and our comfortable life style at Tropic Star to once again head the truck in a north easterly direction.

Feeling sorry for ourselves we drove along in companionable silence until Harwood's attention was aroused by flashing blue lights quickly approaching from behind.  Just as he mentioned them to me ... WHOOSH ... a nondescript black van flew past us with a police car practically riding the bumper.  We watched in awe as, in tandem, the two vehicles wove in and out and around the traffic ahead of us without any sign of slowing down.  Eventually the van pulled onto the shoulder and while it was still coasting toward a fence we counted eleven men hurtle themselves from the van, vault over the fence sprinting at breakneck speed into the nearby bush.  What could the lone officer do but sit and watch as he called in recruits?  Realization hit us ... we had witnessed first hand a high speed car chase involving Mexican illegals!

Following the road less traveled, as we tend to do, eventually lead us to Galveston Island.  Seasoned RVers suggested bypassing Houston with its constantly congested traffic by taking the ferry from Galveston.  Our friends, Ray & Cheryl, had done so in January assuring us the ferry could accommodate big rigs and, best of all, as part of the Texas highway system there was no fee for crossing!  Who could resist?  We waited a few minutes in one of four lanes of vehicles lined up to board the ferry.  Amazingly, under the experienced direction of  polite ferry personnel, everyone safely drove onto the waiting vessel, the ramps were secured, the great motors surged with power and we were off!  Exactly sixteen minutes later, at the tip of Bolivar Peninsula, the whole procedure was reversed as we drove onto the landing ... where another four lanes of traffic were waiting to utilize the ferry's return trip.  Thus we completed another first time experience.

Only ten miles from the ferry landing we discovered a campground to house us overnight.  While setting up the trailer we were once again reminded of what a small part of the world we occupy.  As RVers do, the fellow beside us struck up a conversation while we hooked up our utility services.  Usually the first question is, "Where are you from?"  Turns out, the gentleman we were talking to lives in Essex, Ontario AND he was a school friend/neighbour of our good friend, Bernard.  They owned adjacent farms and as retirees met for coffee together on a regular basis thereby cementing many years of close friendship.  The  three of us reminisced about the good times shared with Bernard during his lifetime.  How we miss that man!

 Exploring  Bolivar Peninsula proved interesting.  It is a very narrow spit of land between the Gulf of Mexico and Galveston Bay.  The bay affords Houston (and surrounding cities) sea-port access for huge ocean going vessels.  On terra ferme one highway runs the length of the peninsula along which we discovered just one continuous community.  It is comprised of brightly painted painted houses, built to avoid possible flooding, on 16-20 foot high stilts.

These colourful dwellings are scattered haphazardly along the sandy shores of the gulf ... no need to cut grass in this community although the wild flowers are spectacular!  During hot summer months this beach front community thrives on the use of it's beaches.  The sand along the shore is hard packed, road worthy, to provide ample opportunity for sun worshipers to amuse themselves.  This time of year we found the ever present wind causing huge white capped muddy breakers to pound against the shore bringing with them excessive flotsam.  However currently uninviting I'm sure the beaches are well groomed during high season and provide welcome relief from soaring temperatures for a great number of people.

Because we were only ten miles from the ferry, and since it was free, we elected to return to Galveston for the opportunity to experience a bit of the city.  As we drove along the seawall we felt as if we were back home in Niagara Falls driving along Clifton Hill ... except the ocean was within plain view.  The beaches in Galveston were much cleaner and we noticed several people braving the buffeting wind as they strolled, or jogged, along. Hopeful fishermen patiently watched their lines from various piers.  Big fancy hotels boasting luxurious surroundings lined the other side of the seawall.  Restaurants and bars flashed welcoming neon signs.  Pulsating music beckoned.  We drove past "Pleasure Pier" on which a two story Bubba Gump restaurant sat amid a brightly lit midway.  At the far end of the pier a ferris wheel created intricate patterns of coloured lights presenting a pretty kaleidoscopic effect reflected in the water.  As darkness closed in Har and I were content to return to the trailer feeling as if we our 2014 visit Texas was complete.  We have done and seen a lot these past three months!

   Good bye, proud Texas with your     pretty springtime roadside flowers!  

3 M Days

What, you ask, are 3 M days?  Let me tell you ... one of the best things about wintering in southern Texas!

3 M = Mexico, Manicures and Margaritas

Pretty exciting, huh?  

A short, scenic driving distance from our RV park in Pharr, Texas is an international border crossing which gives access to an entirely different way of life.  Each day hundreds of Winter Texans drive late model, well maintained (often expensive) vehicles to a rough, dusty lot where we gladly hand over $2.00 for the privilege of parking our vehicles on the American side of the Rio Grande River.  Grabbing our passports we eagerly scramble from the car/truck, lock the doors, make our way to a turnstile where we deposit two quarters each and proceed to enter a third world country.  As we amble across the walled bridge spanning the Rio Grande River we pass a plaque indicating the exact spot where we leave the United States of America and enter Mexico. 

Sneek Family embarking on a new adventure

Proceeding to the far side of the river we gradually become aware of a low moaning sound.  Approaching the end of the bridge we can glance down through the slats in the concrete wall and see what appears to be a tent city.  Suddenly we notice baseball caps appearing through the slats, grasped firmly in dirty little brown hands jangling up and down to attract attention while from below comes a constant wailing for, "Money please, missus."  It's pretty hard to ignore the persistent pleas but that is exactly what tourists are encouraged to do.  The Mexican authorities do not chase the beggars away from the bridge but they do impress upon us not to offer support, for in so doing we encourage and perpetuate the situation.  Far better to distribute our money among the many street vendors, stores, restaurants and those who offer legitimate services.  Gladly, we follow their advice.

Walking along the crowded, narrow, uneven sidewalks our senses are assaulted from all sides!  Jostling Anglo-Saxons laugh and chit-chat with each other like the best of friends ... even if you've just literally bumped into one another.  Street vendors tempt the shoppers saying, "Almost free today," by displaying

beautiful jewelry, brightly coloured blankets, hand made leather purses/wallets/belts, unusual lawn ornaments, newly released (read pirated) movies at discount prices, bouquets of paper flowers, sombreros, cowboy hats, hand woven baskets, hot praline candies, bags of freshly diced edible cactus, garlands of potent garlic, and the list goes on .....   Then there are the wonderful smells emanating from the little mobile food carts lining the side streets where the locals (and some brave tourists) line up to eat.  Harwood and I were actually tempted on our last visit to try some street food.  A smiling man adeptly smeared mayonnaise along the side of a Styrofoam cup before filling it with hot kernels of white corn recently scraped off the barbequed cobs beside him.  Then after some broken English/lack of Spanish communication between us he chose a "not too spicy" condiment bottle and squirted it on top of the corn.  With adroit hand gestures he instructed us to stir it all together then eat it.  The big grin on his face was his way of indicating we would enjoy his "Eletoes" immensely ... and he was right!

In doorways opening onto courtyards attractive people offer, "Manicures, pedicures, waxing" as the crowd pushes by.  It is just too alluring an invitation to refuse!  Visiting a beauty parlor is Mexico is an unique experience!  The one we frequented was a family run operation.  Poppa and Brother professionaly cut and styled repeat customers hair into becoming styles.  Mamma and Daughter (along with several other women who may have been related) happily performed expert mani/pedi services.  Beautiful black eyed little 3 1/2 year old Granddaughter provided the opportunity for female clients to get their "grandma" fix while being pampered.  Sitting with fingers soaking, it was amusing for me to observe how people without the conveniences to which we are accustomed can adapt and improvise.  No need for foot baths with powerful vibrating jets.  An easily purchased Dr. Scholls foot bath placed within easy reach sufficed.  Who needs

those fancy massage recliners to keep you comfortable while you relax?  A cushion behind your back as you sit on the padded bench beside another customer is just fine.  And if both hooded hairdryers are being used simply roll out the 1950's version from the back room and turn it on!  Your hair cut is finished?  Don't leave without your free back and shoulder massage compliments of a hand held electric device in the hands of your stylist.  All this superb entertainment for the low, low price of $10.00 per manicure.  "Almost free today!"

No trip to Mexico is complete without a stop at an outdoor patio bar for a frosty, frozen margarita!  Pick your spot ... there are many.  Unwind from a hard day of enjoying yourself as you sit in the glorious sun serenaded by wandering mariachi minstrels.  Purchase your last minute souvenirs from sad-eyed street urchins.  Get your shoes (or leather hat) polished to a gleaming "just like new" shine by an energetic rag-slapping shoe shine boy.  Sip on that deliciously cold beverage served by your smiling, attentive waiter.  In other words, simply relax with laughter and good friends acknowledging your good fortune of having been able to enjoy yet another perfect 3 M day!