The Left-Turn Signal

Now instead of driving poorly in Alaska, I drive poorly in Baja Sur. And I LIKE it. Everybody runs stop signs. Little old ladies, 12 year old kids, cops, everybody. In fact running stop signs has evolved into an art-form. You approach a 4-way stop at regular driving speed and don't even consider hitting the brakes until you see another car already in the intersection because he rolled into it a split-second before you. I'm thinking that there may have been ice here at one time.

I got an inkling that I wasn’t driving in Kansas anymore during my first trip down the Baja Peninsula. I was stuck behind a slowpoke in a curvy section of hills and had been creeping along for several miles. I was so completely over having to follow this guy. In fact I was darned close to hyperventilating when I came around a corner and there ahead of me was a little straight stretch. In a microsecond I did the mental math and knew I could pass. The Hallelujah Chorus started playing in my head and all my frustrations were throwing each other high 5's. Just as I was mashing the gas and yelling “YEEEE HA!” the guy in front of me turned his left blinker on. Talk about your basic mood change! We're out here in the middle of Nowheresville, BCS, Mexico and this guy is turning left? I don’t see no stinking left turn. I breathed in a paper bag that I keep under the seat for such emergencies. Then I realized that since the guy was going to turn he would be out of my way. So I backed off a bit and waited for him to turn. “Why he no turn?” said my inner voice. The voice had a point. So I re-did the calculus and I realized that we were getting closer and closer to the point of no return: me not being able to pass. He didn’t turn, still didn’t turn, not turning still and I couldn't see a place for him to turn. Then: he DIDN’T TURN! Instead, He turned OFF his blinker and continued on his way.

Are you kidding me? What kind of sick joke is that? This poor guy is being followed by a crazed Americano who watches too much TV and owns guns. Dude! Are you sure you want to play road rage games??? Finally I was able to pass after a few more curves. As I passed, I saw that the driver was an ancient Mexican farmer who was concentrating on his driving so hard that I couldn’t even imagine he would do turn-signal jokes. Finally after a similar scenario replayed itself a few times while traveling south, I realized that the drivers were trying to signal me that the road was clear and probably safe to pass. Go figure. I take back all that verbal abuse and those hand signals. Please forgive me. Ok stay mad then. I said I was sorry for crying out loud.

Listen up: when they give you the left blinker, sometimes they are telling you what to do, not letting you know what they are doing. Hmmmm. Bass ackwards from what I was taught but hey, I have at least half a brain; I can learn the system. As I continued down the Baja, I checked my theory a few times and sure enough it worked.

A few years and many lessons later I was driving North towards Todos Santos just at sunset. As I came over a little rise, there was a car in front of me with the left blinker on. I went through my checklist: Left blinker on and driving on a straight stretch? Yes. Is there a car coming? Yes. This meant that maybe this was a real left turn signal or the driver was bored and wanted to see if I could avoid the ensuing head-on crash when I tried to pass. So I followed patiently for several miles. The car didn’t turn left so I decided that it was a false blinker and really didn’t mean anything. I waited until I saw a safe stretch with no oncoming traffic and started to pass. As I pulled even with the other car, the driver turned left off the highway. She was completely and blissfully unaware of my very existence as I was about to run into her car! Well at least she gave me plenty of notice, no? I hit the brakes hard and turned left with her, hoping that we could both make the turn. While my little voice was screaming, “Mo brake!!! mo brake!!!,” we exited the highway: she driving nonchalantly and I standing on the brake pedal and crying out for God to save me. After spinning a couple of circles, crashing through the dirt and cactus and a couple of fences, my car slid to a stop. I squinted through the billowing cloud of the man-made dirt storm. As I watched, the woman in the other car casually drove away into the beautiful red skies while the left blinker could still be seen glowing through the little clouds of dust that streamed from her tires. She was looking straight ahead, smiling and totally unconcerned that my poor cleaning lady was not going to be happy with the contents of my boxers.

Is there a lesson buried somewhere in this? Maybe.

If you drive in Baja California Sur, you will eventually encounter a left blinker that even the owner of the blinker doesn't know its purpose. You MUST approach every left blinker with deep suspicion and mistrust. If the car in front of you has its left blinker on, it might mean he's turning left. It may mean he wants you to pass. It could mean that he's drunk and is using his emergency flashers to warn everyone about his condition but the right blinker is burned out. What it most likely means is that Paco is tone-deaf and his wife isn’t in the car nagging him to turn it off.

So now I’m looking for an old car, something like a '59 Cadillac with those cool fins. I want to cut off the back two feet or so and hang it on the wall. I'll wire the left blinker to operate continuously.

Friends will come over and see the classic rear-end of a Cadillac on the wall and say “Hey that’s cool, but why is the left blinker on?”

“Oh that. It means the same thing as it does out on Highway One here in Baja: Absolutely nothing.”

Dr Marvin! I scooped!! I'm a scooper!!! I scoop!!!!

Hey. I'm not braggin' but.... (If I'm not braggin' why's there a "but") I just wanted you fine folks of bloggerage to know that I got my first scoop. NOBODY carried the Palmilla fire story. You know what that means??!!! Do you understand the significance???? Actually it means that the fire story was so unimportant as to go unnoticed by everybody but me. 'sob'

Left Blinker: Prolog

I said earlier in the blog that I was going to tell you about left-turn indicators. Let me give you a little background first.

I'm an ok driver. I try to drive the way "they" drive wherever I am. I hate it but when I pass through L.A., I go just as fast as the slowest guy: 85. In Boston, they honk with the middle finger of their left hand. In Idaho, I wave at every car that passes.

What's bad is that when I DO get pulled over, I'm a lousy excuse-maker. I think I've actually improved in the area of excuses since I've been down here in the Baja but read my post titled "Give 'im FI' DOLLA"! in the August archive and make up your own mind.

Once I got stopped in Oregon for sliding through a stop sign. I saw him in the mirror and thought to myself, "Well looks like I'm getting a ticket." Then my little voice came to the rescue and said, "Jus' esplain him about driving to the ice." Hey now there's an idea. No cop in his right mind would listen to such nonsense but why not try? I pulled over, the policeman approached and asked if I had noticed the stop sign. As I handed him my Alaska license I explained, “Sorry about the stop sign sir but I’ve been driving on ice up in Alaska for years; if you come to a complete stop up there, you might not get going again until spring.” He gave me "the look" (YOU know the look? Yeah, I thought so....) for my efforts, went to his car and called in my license. When he returned he said, “I gotta let you go. I have NEVER heard that one before. It might win me the pool today".

Pool winner for the day? Heck, I bet I got overall winner for the week.

to be continued....

Culture Clash

I love living in Baja Sur. The beaches are the best ever, the people are generally great and the pace of living suits me. I can walk out my front door almost every day of the year in shorts and flip-flops. I suppose after living in Alaska for almost a quarter century, good weather seems important to me. It's not all bougainvillea and honey though. I hit a speed bump too hard just about every day.

The locals here seem happy for the most part. I think one of the reasons is because they have developed a thought process that doesn't allow them to get bogged down in irrelevant details. They are able to hold one thought in a row for more than a few milliseconds unlike their counterparts to the North. A friend calls this ability the "linear thought process." One of the manifestations of the linear thought process is that the users of said process don't clutter up their minds with a lot of unnecessary ideas thereby avoiding needless confusion and worry.

The problem begins when users of the "non-linear thought process,” whom we call Americans, attempt to translate their non-linear thoughts to the store clerk who uses the "linear thought process." In the non-linear thought process, we Americans randomly make a lot of assumptions based on what we think of as common life experiences.

For example, my youngest son and I were waiting at the airport one day. Micah was hungry and suggested we get some nachos. I said “great idea.” Then I remembered where we were and asked him to go check the price first. I watched as he walked over to the snack counter and asked the price. He hurried back to tell me, “They only cost 10 pesos, dad. It’s a deal!” “Great, get me some too,” I answered, and handed him 20 pesos. I watched again as he hustled through the non-crowded airport to the nacho man. My mouth had already started watering by the time he returned. He walked up and handed me my 20 back. “Hey what’s up. Where’s my nachos?” I asked.

“They don’t have any.” was his answer.

Jimena leaves destruction in her path

Jimena was nice enough to bypass us with her wind and fury but she picked up more water on her way north and has inundated a path through Baja from San Carlos to Santa Rosalia and beyond. Check "The Baja Pony Express" site for stories and photos.

Spanish: Lesson One

As I mentioned before, I owned a coffee shop/bakery in San Jose del Cabo for several years. We had Mexican employees of course and our place became very popular with the local Mexican residents. You can imagine that I was trying to improve my speaking skills quickly.

If you've never lived in a foreign country and tried to learn the language, the first thing you need to know is that you can't always translate the words and expect the same meaning. Naturally the culture of the country affects the significance of the words and phrases. For example, the word "stupid" in English is pretty harmless. We will say "That's really stupid" and mean that something was frustrating or planned poorly or something. Down here, the same word is a HUGE insult. "Stupid" here means like you're an uneducated backwoods hick Indian that eats snakes and donkey dung and makes human sacrifices. Or something like that. Trust me, don't even use the word out loud unless you know who you are talking to and they know you. After having a few people like clerks and secretaries look at me like I was the most rudest human being in the world, I asked some questions and got straightened out!

Another thing that happens here is that we English speakers have a tendency to guess at words. Maybe we hear a conversation with familiar sounding words and hey! we're not Stupid for crying out loud! So we store up a couple of words for the right moment and then spring 'em on the poor unsuspecting Mexican who gives you the "look." (You'll know it when you see it)

Here's a couple of examples from Yours Truly who has bludgeoned the local dialect unrecognizable. Take the English word "embarrassed." I heard a word said in a sentence that had to be "embarrassed." It is the Spanish word, "embarasada." Sounds right, right? So after I told a Mexican friend that I was "embarasada" about something, he laughed and "How far along are you? Embarasada means pregnant." So far, not too embarrassing. Another word is "exitado." Sounds like "excited" no? Well yes, excited but in a sexual way. I misused that one too. It gets worse. This one is like WAY embarrassing. I used to confuse 3 words: miedo (fear), marido (husband) and mierda (the worser word for poop.) I was trying to ask an employee "How was her husband." Guess what I asked her. I didn't realize my error until I saw the "look." It was a doozy.

I will say with all gratitude that Mexican people are extremely forgiving when it comes to language. If you give it your best shot, normally a Mexican will go out of their way to help you communicate. It's a beautiful thing.

Hurricane Jimena again

I received an email today claiming that Jimena has done terrific damage from landfall to Santa Rosalia. One report stated that the Mulege river crested over the bridge. If that's true then those folks are suffering. If any of you have contacts or web links, please let me know.

Bob