It´s been a couple of days since writing about the journey…so I hope that there´s not too much of a slip in continuity! It is hard to find time to write here…

Anyway, as we entered Mexico D.F., there was an immediate and stark contrast between the lush pine forests and the high rise urban metropolis. The Periferico is a major highway which circles the perimeter of Mexico City. We were on the Periferico driving southwards, but not really knowing where we were going when the police came up from behind us and motioned that we were to pull over as soon as we could. We did. And a very gallant and polite police officer asked to see Jerson´s drivers licence…but then his eye caught our winshield and the lack of a “permiso de importacion de vehiculos” and he immediately lost interest in the drivers license and began to question us about our papers for the truck.

…well, I have to go back to January 1, 2008 when we first crossed the border at Nogales to give you (and the same explanation to the officer)…

When we crossed, it was a national holiday, being the first day of 2008. Consequently, it wasn´t exactly well staffed at the border. There was a bit of photocopying and some stamping, and they showed me where to buy insurance…but that was it. I asked and reconfirmed if there was anything else that I needed to do (having read beforehand about the need for this vehicle importation permission)…but they insisted that that was it. They were a bit officious…and I was nervous, being that it was the first time that I ever crossed the US-Mexican border by vehicle. I didn´t want to insist…they had guns, you know! So, we drove off from the border area without the vehicle being officially imported with some kind of process. It could be that because there is a sort of tourism program that the vehicles do not need any sort of importation documentaton within that state…but when we travelled further south…there was no opportunity to get the vehicle importation. So, there we were in Mexico without it…seemingly without incident…until Mexico City….and later again at the border…but that´s another story!

Well, back to the police officers at the entrance to Mexico City…

They immediately landed on the fact that we had no importation documents for our vehicle. I explained patiently what had happened and that the fault was with the officials at the border at Nogales. To no avail. He charmingly pointed to a little handbook that explained the necessity for having an importation permit for the truck. He spent quite a bit of time with me ( I was doing the talking…a recommendation from the internet that if the police officer is a man, it´s best to have a woman do the talking and if the police officer-official is a woman, it´s best to have the man do the talking…a rather dubious piece of advice, but it WAS from the internet!) explaining the need for the importation documents, like as if I didn´t understand. He explained and re explained that my vehicle was in the country illegally and that he had the right to make the decision whether he should impound the vehicle. There was the kicker. The invitation for me to make him an offer. I didn´t take it. Instead, I suggested that we call the Canadian Embassy, since the fault was with the Mexican border officials at Nogales who shouldn´t have let us proceed without the proper permits. He asked why I was so “brava” (ie. angry woman) and suggested that I calm down (oh, yes…I was feeling very calm, he was talking about impounding my vehicle and I was supposed to be cheerful…well, actually, that´s true…I was… you see if there is anything that I´ve learned in Latin America…it´s that no matter what…one is always charming and polite NO MATTER WHAT!) I hadn´t really learned that at that point. I was tired, and hungry and flustered and scared. He came back around and suggested that perhaps there was a way that we could resolve the situation. I said that there was, that he could take the truck and enjoy it! He once again suggested that I was not being exactly graceful in the situation. He suggested that I needed to understand that the decision lay with him whether we should continue our journey or be stopped in beaurocratic circles. Again, I didn´t take the bait. Why? Because I´d seen too many police shows where the whole goal was to get the officer to request a bribe and then it gets recorded and then justice is done. So, finally, he made the request for the bribe…”if you help me economically, I can help you”. That was it…no great dramatic justice for me…nothing happened…Finally, I asked “How much?” He said $100.00 U.S.!!!! Can you believe it!? I was shocked and I made a great dramatic show of how l had no money in my secret pouch or my wallet. I got Jerson to open up his wallet to procure $10.00 U.S. Really, we do travel on a shoe string…I explained that I really didn´t have anymore and that even giving him this much was going to leave us short! But, then I opened up the ashtray where there was a few pesos and offered to give them to him as well. He most graciously declined them and accepted the $10.00. Then he helpfully provided directions on how we should navigate the Periferico to exit in order to reach Puebla…and they were directions that we really really did need! So, actually, he earned the money and we were happy for him to have it.

However, we will do anything we can to avoid Mexico D.F. because our feeling is that even if he hadn´t found the missing importation, he would have found something else. Our feeling is that police officers probably hang out at the entrance to Mexico City hunting for unwary victims with foreign license plates and we want to avoid them as much as possible.

Before this incident, whenever I saw a police officer in Mexico, (naive as it may have been ) I felt sort of protected or safe. After this incident, whenever I saw a police officer, I felt jittery and nervous…ready for another inspection to find us lacking the necessary documents.

Next part of the journey…Puebla

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