El Rosario, Sinaloa, Mexico.

A long day of driving after spending the night on a cargo ferry from La Paz to Topolobampo. The Poptart, rechristened the Machete de Tiburon by our Mexican friends, spent the night eighteen edges from the edge of the MN San Guillaume, our trusty ship. It was quite a spectacle watching freight trucks, trailers from freight trucks, and a variety of commercial vehicles getting loaded via elevator, backwards, onto the upper deck. We were almost the last vehicle to board, and after four or more hours of waiting, we were doubting if there would be room. There was, but just.
We had to back on the ship! Onto an elevator. Barely on and I stalled the truck. At the same moment, we were told to stop! The elevator began to go up and I was sure that the front wheels were barely on. For sure, we weren’t fully on the flat part of the elevator. I yanked on the emergency brake and stepped on the other. Up we went and proceeded to the next phase, where we were hollered at by a man in Spanish, who seemingly was trying to get me to stop and go, back and forth, left and right simultaneously. He was gesticulating wildly and getting louder and louder. I was getting more and more stressed and Finn, sensing this, began to yell back in his most forceful canine Spanish!
Eventually we inched in to the last spot on the upper deck – our perfectly precarious perch near the edge of doom.
We arrived having slept in the non-Poptart all night. I slept in the cab with the dog whilst Paula slept on the low bunk. We didn’t pop it up as there would have only been canvas between us and the sea if the ship rolled at all. I was frozen in the morning but warmed up quickly with the dog blanket wrapped around me as we watched the islands in the the morning mist.
The docking involved two men in a small boat with an out board motor racing around the huge ferry, scooping the huge docking rope up with the little skiff as the space between them, the San Guillaume, and the dock shrank horrifyingly fast. The man with the rope pulled for fury as his feet moved with the surety of a champion log burler.
Docking complete, we were one of the first to disembark into the State of Sinaloa – the land of El Chapo.
A long day of driving, mostly past fields of corn and tomatoes. Vegetables for the north and corn for the south. The toll booths on the highway, and there are many, always have people selling things. They stand in the lanes, waving their wares at you. Most curious were the men with the fistfuls of roasted elote, which is the Mexican name for fresh corn and corn on the cob. Maize refers to corn flour. News to me. 
A quick visit to Mazatlan and we finished the day here in El Rosario. There is a cathedral here with an enormous gold plated altar that runs floor to ceiling. We are the only gueros in town, and Finn is the star perro.  
Supper followed the usual pattern of tacos from a taqueria. Tonight’s taqueria was a family affair. Son-in-law worked the grill, while daughter adroitly made corn tortillas. Dad, in a wheelchair was on the wood fired barbecue. All the tacos were beef, which was charbroiled steak that has been steamed, then grilled, then chopped finely. They come, as do all tacos, with salt but with nothing else. At the table is a hot chilli sauce, pico de gallo, a thin avocado sauce, and tonight, sliced cucumbers. To find the best places, one looks for locals eating there.
We enjoyed our tacos to the backdrop of Mexican radio. Men, coming from work, came and went. We ordered two bottles of Coca – Cola to go with our meal. They were brought to our table. They were ice cold, the tall half-litre glass bottles sweating in the evening air. The soda here is sweetened with natural sugars, and is drier than back home. What really stands out, however, is the glass bottle. I believe that Canadians have really lost something by going to a world of plastic and aluminum. Drinks in glass taste better! Drinks in glass look better! Drinks in glass are better! The ice cold cokes, in their tall glass bottles, punctuated a wonderful meal. Well done Mexico! 

2 thoughts on “El Rosario, Sinaloa, Mexico.”

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