After the ferry ride from hell we ended up in Topolabampo where we stayed the night. Being late, we had to find food so we walk down the street and it is like a scene from boys in the hood. There are about 4 or 5 groups of people sitting around in the street and they just stare at us. No street lights. We end up eating at a “restuarant” in someone´s lounge room while the old man was laid back on the couch watching TV. Very funny.
In the morning we took a local bus through the slums (Mexican housing development) to Los Mochis. We got out where the bus stopped but had no idea where that was! Luckily an older guy walked past and having seen the bewildered look on our faces he pointed us in the right direction. As we were walking a guy comes up and asks us where we are going. We mention the bus station and he says he´ll walk us there. So far every mexican we have met in Mexico that speaks english well has been kicked out of the US having had their visa revoked for drug related issues. This guy is no different, but he was really nice and we had a good chat about life in Mexico (and the four kids he has back in the US).
Next stop, El Fuerte. Or so we hope. We get out of the bus but see no signs telling us where we are. Must be El Fuerte. Most of the hotels here are over US$100 and we are looking to spend no more than $30. So we head into a restaurant and eat the mexican equivalent of a prawn cocktail (lukewarm seafood can´t hurt can it?) and ask the guy a few questions in broken Spanish. Response. The cheap hostel is closed. Nice. So we just wander the streets and stumble upon a little hotel. The only other foreigner in town, a german guy coming back from a bike race, warns us that the place is a “piece of shit” but we have no choice but to take it.
After a quick nana nap we are getting hungry again. Taco time. This is where we get set up well. We sit down and slam a couple of goat/dog tacos and the guy hands Jarrod a chilli. OK. First bite, no worries. Jarrod then chomps it all down. Next round of tacos. 1 more chilli. Jarrod chews off about a third of it. His pupils dilate. Cold sweat. Heart palpitations. Dizziness. Feels like you just beer bonged half a slab. All from one bite of a chilli. I try it. Now we are both in pain. All we can do is laugh cause we don´t have a knife to cut our tongues out. The guy that served us, along with all the others gathered around, just chuckle quietly to themselves. We got done there. Figuring only one thing will fix it we go and buy a bottle of tequila for about $9. 100% agave. 10 minutes later in our room we are thinking that the Mexicans have certainly got tequila down to a fine art. So much better than the shit they serve up at home. Only one thing left to do. During our meandering we noticed a few bars with loud mexican music and singing coming out of the door, we have to check it out. That was the quickest I´ve ever polished off 2 beers without just skulling them. On entering the bar, a dude at the bar just shouts out “Americanos” and everyone just turns and looks. Shit.... let´s get a drink in our hands. The dude starts talking to us and it becomes clear that we don´t speak a lot of Spanish. I manage to get him to follow that we are Australians (kangaroo mime needed) and he relaxes a bit. Unfortunately the rest of the bar still sees us as gringos. The next 6 minutes and 2 beers fly by pretty quickly as we attempt to dodge the stares and barely concelaed abuse given to us by the patrons at the Corona Bar. We leave feeling like we have just dodged a bullet and we are lucky to have escaped unscathed. What a laugh!
Back in the relative safely of our room 7 shots of tequila (so smooth!) help us settle down and get a good night´s sleep ready for the train in the morning.
