Stupid white girl

Anyone that knows me can probably guess that the very next day I went back to Ciudad Hidalgo and straight to the Balsero launch. I found a partner in crime, a Mexican girl who is also a graduate student studying immigration. We decided to live the high life and hired a triciclo chofer to take us to the river. This means that we first had to cut through blocks and blocks of warehouses (and I use that term loosely) holding packaged merchandise to send across the river to Guatemala. It was business as usual for the Mexican black-marketers, another day, another dollar. However, they were kind enough to pause, whistle, and yell out Guera.

Guera (the u has two dots above it, but I can't seem to find the symbol on this damn PC): slang for white girl. And, yes, I am white. This is something that I have known for a while. However, it seems that all of Mexico has pledged to state my race as a daily affirmation.

Hey, there goes the white girl.

White girl, don't you want to buy this necklace?

Oh man, is she white!

White Girl! You can't take pictures here! (my personal favorite, yelled by many immigration officials over the past few weeks)

Due to the fact that a lot of my time here has been spent in places like black markets and border crossings in which I am, in fact, the only white girl, I've grown quite accustomed to this endearing little nickname. And, of course, it helps solve my previous identity issues. Even if they don't know I am American, they know for a fact that I am white. That much they can tell me. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

So, we finally made it to the river (the Suchiate), which was bustling with activity. The main purpose of this underground crossing point (which is once again located mere kilometers from the official bridge and a slew of immigration officials) is really to facilitate the quotidian activities of a very connected transnational region. I have no doubt that there is also a flow of undocumented immigration of Central Americans and Guatemalans heading to the North, but that is a hidden flow. This is a visible flow which consists of mainly tax-free commerce and shuttling people back and forth to work and/or shop for the day. Of course, they can do this legally by applying for the FMVL (local visitor's pass), but this requires money and time, and the balsas are a fairly established and dependable alternative for illicit border crossing.

We negotiated with a young Guatemalan entrepreneur wearing a fanny pack who agreed to take us across for 20 pesos each (less than 2 bucks). The balsas are large black rubber rafts with a serious of wooden planks strapped across the top. There are usually two transporters, mainly because the current of the river is incredibly strong and one person could not possibly dock the balsa alone. One is the money collector (hence the fanny pack) and the other is the navigator, using a large wooden pole to dig into the ground of the river and propel us across.

We reached the opposing riverfront and I was officially "smuggled" into Guatemala. No stamp on my passport for this trip, no snorting officials, no long walk in the heat....not to mention the 265 pesos I saved. I'm starting to understand the incentives for avoiding migratory bureaucracy.

Due to the fact that I had spent the previous day praying for my life and dodging Dengue in Tecun Uman, I would have been perfectly happy to turn around and go right back to Mexico. However, my PNC hadn't experienced the beauty of Tecun and wanted to check it out. A quick triciclero grabbed us, assured us we could pay in Mexican pesos (20 each to get to the center and 20 to get back), and basically threw us onto his bike. We did the obligatory stroll around the plaza and once again visited the purple church and then headed back to the river, an excursion which lasted for about 5 minutes.

A few blocks from the riverfront, the triciclero pulled up in front of a random house and told us to change our money so we could pay in Quetzales, Guatemalan currency. Immediately, a young kid with a mop of curly hair emerged from the house and assured us the best rates in town. We kindly, yet firmly, reminded the man that he had agreed to being paid in Mexican pesos and that we weren't going to change money and lose out on the exhange rate for a 5 minute bike ride. He, of course, remembered no such agreement, and then not so kindly reminded us that we were in Guatemala and the national currency is Quetzales. This is where it all went downhill, in a fast and tight spiral.

He then doubled the pre-set agreement, saying that the new price was really the standard rate. We loudly objected, causing an old woman in a quilted skirt sitting on the curb across the street to get involved. She recognized this man as a con-artist and started yelling that he was ripping us off. He yelled back, calling her an old crazy hag, and then started pedalling furiusly away, with us still in the triciclo. Not the best situation to be in, and it quickly deteriorated. He stopped again, just short of the river, and another money changer emerged from the shadows. The driver forcibly told us to change money, telling us that we now owed him an equivalent of 200 pesos, nearly 20 bucks. Another yelling match exploded, ending with him expelling us from his triciclo and telling us to leave and live with our consciences.

This is when I had an out-of-body experience. I floated up and watched the whole scene play out: The white girl yelling at the Guatemalan con-man in this wasteland of a city, notorious for its violence and crime. This just couldn't end well.

In his rage, he yelled that we should at least pay him 100 pesos. Still proposterous, but agreed. I threw the money at him, grabbed my friend and ran back to the river where we dove onto another balsa. Safe.

Back in Mexico, we climbed into yet another triciclo and asked the driver to take us to the bus stop. He had a nice, kind face, and only charged us 10 pesos each, which prompted us to tell him how happy we were to be back in Mexico. He agreed, saying that Tecun just had a bad vibe.

Over there, they'll kill you for 100 pesos.

Good to know.