 muscles are to flexico, movies show in the cinaplexico, and condoms are for sexico in the great land of mexico. -Jeevan |
by Peter Martin
Ah, Mexico. Home of tequila and the taco, a dangerous but tasty combination. A place to escape (especially after driving home loaded and hitting some large mammal you're sure was not a deer and couldn't have been a moose and it sure as hell wasn't an emu, because they're not mammals and they definitely don't wear pants.)
Yes, Mexico. Purchase a compass and get that car headed south. Pedal to the metal, for Guadalajaro I would happily settle.
Who can forget Cancun? Mexico at its finest. A sliver of the old country fenced off and reserved for MTV spring break specials. The sun is hot, the whores are cheap, and you can leave your Tequila bottles where you finish'em. Don't worry, it's still technically Mexico.
The green cabs? Well, that's a ride one barely survives. But to be fair, the muzzle in your face will be rustic, so chalk it up as a cultural experience.
The exchange is great: Work hard 90 days in the States and you can soak up Mexican rays for a year. A full staff of trained howler monkeys is well within your budget.
South of the border, full of fiesta, siesta and cholera, Mexico is a fine place and a country with no need (or hope) of improvement.