Day 1a

Tah-da, the requisite beer. One frothy cold and delivered to my table with chips and salsa. Just outside the resturant was a family band, brothers and cousins on accordian, bass, drums, and tiny preteen cousin on the mike belting out the lyrics like she owned them. I wish I had gotten them in the beer pic. It's not just a treasure hunt, damnit. I missed out on the picture of the fly dying on it's back in the urinal at the Burger King outside of the border, but I think that was more a matter of good taste. Right as my alarm went off, in the middle of a conversation with an American prophet, there had started a troupe of costumed Mexicans doing an apparently traditional dance. They were in full feathered regalia, young son on the skin drum and infant shaking a rattle. The prophet was an older woman, her pale makeup was smeared around and her maskara caked lashes behind large dark glasses framed pale green eyes. She wanted me to warn my father about the dark forces, the ones he has abandoned, for they are angry. I'm sure he'll be fine.

Apparently it's not cool to buy glassware and take it over the border. Next time I'll just put it in my fucking pocket. Oh, yeah, and you need a passport to get back into the states. Well, they let me through, "But remember it next time." I'll surely remember it for Canada. The only borders I like are on imaginary planes and shift based on your calculations. I did however get away with some lovely jewlry for some select lady friends.

Amsterdam Pharmacy, Srsly, wtf? SmartShop it ain't.

This one too. Multinational Mexico, go go go!

Ok, I've seen these damn things all over the world. London, Amsterdam, Seattle, Boston, Los Angeles... this however is the first one to grace my data stream. Lovely. Frida. Lovely.

Tijuana, Mexico