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Published: December 19th 2010
Main Street Houston
This particular bit, with the pool around the tram tracks, was the prettiest partMy mum always set great store by the entry to a house. A proper entry was vital. It needed to be welcoming and give a good impression but without necessarily letting someone you didn't know straight into your living space. Some countries could take a lesson from my mum.
We crossed three borders in the last week, all different. With the UK we were leaving and, apart from the loss of our spending in their country, they didn't really seem too bothered by the fact. On entry to the UK, on the Eurostar from France some months ago, we were interviewed, skilfully but gently, by an immigration officer who established who we were, what we had been doing, intended to do and for how long.
For the USA we arrived after a long flight, longer because it had been delayed, so were pretty tired when we arrived in Customs and Border Protection. A very long queue combined with 2 officials dealing with the prospective visitors ensured that we had plenty of time to memorise the video loop welcoming us to the USA and telling us how seriously CBP took its job of protecting the country's borders. We had dutifully
Houston Skyline
Some good wind tunnels in amongst these too completed our pre-approval ESTA so had our approval numbers along with copies of the approvals, and so we were pretty confident that all would be well. I understand why some might see fingerprinting and photographing every visitor as useful but I wonder what the reviews of cost effectiveness show. Anyway, I put my civil liberties ideas in my back pocket and smiled nicely and I was OK.
My wife was not. She was escorted to the "other room" where all of the people who needed further checking were taken. Now I have no problem understanding computer glitches. I just wonder why none of the officials was interested in looking at my computer screen to read the approval or check the number. Perhaps they can't search by the approval number they provide? Perhaps, unless they can find it on their screen in their own way, it is not a real approval? I guess that there are other possibilities too. But it was a worry that we didn't need. Pat had to deal with the officials on her own while I had to stand around outside wondering whether I had stuffed up on the approvals, continually re-reading the approval form open
Amtrak Station Houston
Just the white flat-roofed building - the big one is something else across the tracks. on my computer, wondering what was going on.
Since we have been in the USA and now in Mexico, people have greeted my wife with "Hola" and me with "Hello". I speak a little Spanish, she speaks much less, but they all address her. This is not unusual. In Vietnam, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Indonesia, Spain and the Philippines people have thought she might be a local – or perhaps it is just that she looks a lot more friendly than I do? I guess the CBP officials didn't know what to make of her. They didn't ask, of course, but we do wonder what it was that warranted further checking that had not been apparent on the information provided on the pre-approval ESTA?
Stupidly, we had to cross the USA border twice. The second time was after an abortive sortie into Mexico at Ciudad Juarez to try to collect a Mexican tourist card. The office wasn't open on a Sunday so we turned around and walked back over the bridge, joining yet another very long queue. An hour and half queuing on a bridge wasn't what we wanted to spend our time on in El Paso but there you
Empty Platform
Houston Amtrak Station go. This time the CBP officer, after putting us through the system and being satisfied, said, "So sir, what are you doing in the most dangerous city in the world?" Many responses came to mind but, highly conscious of the requirement that you do not, under any circumstances, joke with a CBP officer, I had to put most of the responses that immediately came to mind to one side and just said, "Leaving in the morning with any luck."
The Mexican border crossing had us a little concerned. We knew we needed a tourist permit, a form FMM. From what we could glean from various internet sources, this was a blue form that we picked up in one place, paid for at another and then had stamped at another. The process was supposed to be pretty straightforward but could take some time. Our worry was that we did not particularly want to hang around in Juarez, which is both supposed to be dangerous and said to be not particularly worth hanging around. Our plan was to catch a bus direct from El Paso in Texas to Chihuahua in Mexico. Other traveller's tales told of being left at the border
after having taken too much time getting their form, with their gear going on to their destination and them waiting for another bus.
The popularly recommended bus company was El Paso Limousine. Rocked up at the 'Immigracion' post and went inside, after having told the person who booked us in, the bus driver and anyone else who looked like they might care that we needed to get a tourist permit at the border. Walked straight up to the counter – not many tourists coming through here. Friendly smile and 'Welcome to Mexico'. Forms handed over to fill in. Reject the advances of a person who offered to help fill the form in – for money. Handed forms back to the officials. Light hearted discussion about kangaroos, us having travelled all over the world and that we must be very rich, with us responding that not that many rich people travel on the buses. No money required. No wandering about to different offices. Outside and back on the bus. The driver returned and looked around to check we were there. As he fired up the bus other passengers also looked around to check we were on board.
I guess
it is all understandable. Large rich countries are obviously magnets for people who are looking for a better life and they see the need to protect what they have. A little bit of graciousness in the way they go about protecting their borders wouldn't hurt though. I just hope that Australia keeps in mind the need for a welcoming, but careful, front door.
While I am in this charitable mood, let me deal with Houston. Now I know my little brother and his family must have many fond memories of the place, but I have to say that a day walking around Downtown won't go down as a highlight of this trip. I suppose the action is all away from Downtown at the shopping malls and in the suburbs, or maybe they just like to keep things calm so they can get on with business.
Our reason for being in Houston was originally that we needed to collect a vehicle off a boat from the UK. When that fell through we already had the tickets. So we decided to have a little look at the country on our way to Mexico to meet the kids and booked on
Mountain Roads
In Texas - not sure what they were made for Amtrak. The public bus took us into town from our hotel near-ish to the airport. No-one we asked really seemed to know where the Amtrak station was but my little Garmin knew so we were set. Unfortunately, the place that the Garmin took us to was the Post Office. A nice lady rolled her eyes when we put the question. "Everyone comes here looking for Amtrak." She pointed to a path under a nearby freeway overpass, across some waste land and a rather dingy white building. "You wouldn't believe it but that is the station." Clearly, long distance train travel is not so popular for most Americans or, at least, Texans.
We were able to leave our bags at the station and wander off for a day in Downtown Houston before catching our train that night. At nightfall we toddled back to the railway station to sit out the time for our departure. Quite a comfortable time in the little station and made better for the interesting conversations with a variety of people. One man, who was taking a party off on one of those party trains for the night, even delivered us some very nice food. Some of
Watching watching
From the train, along the US-Mexico border the other waiting passengers, who I might point out hadn't actually bothered to talk to him when he was wandering around earlier, muttered a bit at this but we had a nice feed of shrimp, brisket and some kind of chicken.
The train was expensive – but considerably less so than flying – and was well worth every dollar. A very nice compartment, comfortable bed, very good food and the chance to look at the scenery without having to pay attention to the road and other traffic was all very relaxing. A bloke in Houston who 'looked after the railroad around here' and wore a nice suit told us that the best bits of the trip would be beyond El Paso and that the best trip in the USA was up the West Coast where the railroad hugs the coastline. After our short experience of about 1,000 kms on this trip, the run up the West Coast sounds very interesting and Amtrak generally will stay in the equation.
For our arrival in El Paso they put on a parade. We were quite taken with such a welcome. They call it the Celebration of Lights and it has happened
for 75 years. We decided to walk to our hotel from the train station. A little under a mile and we had been sitting down for 19 hours. Saw a lot of people going one way so fell in, more or less. Ended up not being able to get out of the street because of the crowd and walked up the route of the parade, which luckily had not yet actually started. As you can see from the photos we went back to watch the parade. It took about an hour and a half to pass our position.
We didn't really do El Paso justice. Without your own transport and on a weekend, downtown El Paso is very quiet. Is there a pattern emerging here about US cities? A little more lively over near the border but food and drink options pretty limited.
Juarez we simply rode through on a bus. That was sufficient for us. A strong police presence with well armed, very fit looking young men, sometimes with parts of their face covered, very noticeable. The road south also has a strong police presence with a number of police and military check points along the way.
The country though, takes us home. A lot like Central Australia although not as red and with ranges of mountains/hills that are shapes and sizes that would have generated some interesting legends back in our part of the world.
Chihuahua is a town of about 500,000. We wandered around the centro looking at the Christmas festivities, markets and buildings. They sell boots here and we looked. After all that work to get the packs down to walking-around weight it was tempting to pick up a pair. Maybe when we swing back. The Museo de la Revolucion, or Pancho Villa Museum, is very good and interesting and we spent a few hours checking out at least one version of the events that led to the development of the modern state of Mexico. I am sure there are others and I am sure that as we move on we will hear and see a lot more.
We need to move pretty quickly now down to Mexico City to meet Adam and Klaire and then to get ourselves into some suitable place to spend Christmas. And then it is over to Cuba for New Year. Be warmer there we reckon. Been
Pecos River
A natural boundary cold for long enough.
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Sarah
non-member comment
Glad you made it!
I'd suspect Mum too. Those teeny tiny half Japanese women are often 6 foot 4 terrorists in disguise.