Boring Is Not A Part Of My Life

As of late I’ve been cruising briskly along a path in pursuit of nickels, dimes, and a smattering of dollars intermingled with a gem here and there. Such is the life of one who makes a living on their own peddling funky old stuff seen as antique or collectible.

In order to make it work I must make it happen. My sole motivator is me. My motivation is a certain kind of life experience ironically afforded by a so called bleak economy. From where I stand I still see all kinds of opportunity.

The political scene in the United States is a total mess but America is still a land of abundance. One of my favorite quotes from a rapper is, “If you’re not living the American dream, go out and get it. No one is going to give it to you”. If a person does nothing, nothing will happen. If a person does something, things will happen.

As of late my drive and energy have been high while I focus on replenishing fiscal reserves. However, creatively, I’m pretty much adrift in an old familiar vastness of someday and maybe this or that. In some regards focus comes easy. In other ways it’s fleeting and elusive.

Of course all work and no play make Jack irritable, frustrated and weird so I mix things up by dropping into a coffee shop, drinking a few beers, witnessing a joust to the death, or singing karaoke at a Texas Honky Tonk. Boring just isn’t a part of my life. If you ever see me in person and think I’m dull it’s probably because I’m preoccupied with a daydream or am in a temporary unsocial mood.

Well, the next two weeks are packed full of activity. When I’m consumed with my stance on home base the blog tends to take a backseat as I tend to this and that. After traveling through exotic lands everyday routine takes a little more effort to write about unless I creatively hone in on a story about a funny or peculiar happening in a timely fashion. My current intention is to post more often with a photo brief narrative. The more I write the easier it come. As with most things consistency is important.

The photo attached with this post was taken with a Vegan friend in a Texas Honky Tonk. The ceiling is covered with deer antlers and the walls are full of stuffed dear heads, guns, a bear skin rug etc.

Images Of West Texas

Along The River - Boquillas

I’ve already been back in Houston for a week. The day after I got back I dived into work and haven’t really given myself a chance to come up for air until now. The West Texas detour was a good one and I got in a lot for the amount of time I was gone. Plenty of sightseeing, hiking, and exploring along the banks of the Rio Grande.

Crossing the Rio Grande back and forth outside of an official border crossing can mean up to a $5,000 dollar fine for a United States Citizen. For a Mexicans caught on the Texas side it's a free trip back across the border, however, the intricacies of laws change and rules are quite different for either side. In America you’re innocent until proven guilty. In Mexico it’s the other way around.

I spent an afternoon along the border near Boquillas. Boquillas is a small Mexican village just across the river. It’s very remote and all of the roads are dirt. It resembles something right out of an old time Western Movie. Use to you could cross the border via boat (or wade) to drink a semi cool beer while picking up a couple of souvenirs.

In the summer of 1984 a friend and I went to Boquillas. The river was low and we could have waded but struck up a deal with a local man and a boat to take us across. When we got to the other side he wanted to charge us double. We refused to pay double and paid him what we agreed originally. On the Mexican side it’s a short walk into the village or you can hire a donkey. Since we had a dispute about the boat we sure as heck were not going to hire a donkey so we walked. When we arrived in the village there were no other tourists. Locals peered around corners and doorways like it was High Noon. Actually, I think it was around noon. No one was friendly. We met one sketchy gringo who said he was from Oklahoma and started telling us stories I was pretty certain weren’t true. After one semi cool beer and feeling uneasy the whole time we boogied back to the boarder and quickly walked past the boat guys not wasting any time wading back to the U.S. side. Boquillas did not give me a good feeling on that particular day.

Since that time Boquillas became less and less popular as the National Park discouraged tourists from visiting the village. Eventually the Department of Homeland security closed the border all together. Today it’s an interesting situation. The locals of Boquillas are forbidden to cross but they really need the gringo tourist dollar. I mean, it’s so remote and you have to wonder what they do for a living?

With the big enchilada just a river crossing away the locals do what they can. They reel in the Yankee dollar by quickly sneaking across the river and setting up a display of souvenirs. Trinkets are laid out with a price list and honor jar. Stop at a nice view point, canyon, or hot springs in the area and you will see walking sticks, scorpions made out of stripped copper wire, and quartz crystals nicely merchandized upon a boulder. On the banks of the Mexican side of the Rio Grande you’ll see the shop keeper who is watching everything. Make a purchase by placing money in the jar. When you leave and the coast is clear the enterprising local quickly crosses the river by horse, grabs the money, and returns to the Mexican side.

One of the most creative money making schemes I witnessed was at the opening of Boquillas canyon. Right at the entrance there’s a wonderful echo. A singing man named Victor, with a full rich classic Mexican voice, sits upon a large rock mass. As you walk up to the canyon he belts out a tune. Victor sits on the Mexican side. Two tip jars sit on the American side.

By chance this happened to be the only place I actually saw a Mexican on the U.S. side. At the time he was drumming up business for Victor while selling small Road Runner birds made out of copper wire and plastic beads. I never caught his name but he must be the mayor of Boquillas or something. He informed me that the border would be opening up again next spring and invited me to visit his village for tacos and cerveza. He was very friendly and I got the impression that the local people want to make things right when things re-open. I left a nice tip in a jar and purchased a Road Runner.

It’s another world across the the river and I hope things work out ok for the people of Boquillas when the border re-opens. I imagine it will be fine to visit. It’s far away and isolated from the other border towns which have become too dangerous due to drug trafficking and cartels. I think the people of Boquillas are more interested in peddling tacos, cerveza, and souvenirs.