¡Mexico!

We have checked into Mexico.  Typically, a tourist gets off the plane waits in line for the Immigration officials to stamp your passport and then the Customs officials have you press the button and if the light turns green you are free to go.  Or, if it is red they inspect your luggage.  That is if you are flying into the country. 
We sailed in from Costa Rica, bypassing Nicaragua, Honduras and Guatemala.  As we approached the first port in Mexico, Chiapas (formerly Puerto Madera), we hailed the Port Captain and I think I understood him to have given us instructions to proceed to Marina Chiapas, our intended destination.  That is what we did at 0630 in the morning,  slowly, so that we might raise the marina on the radio and get instructions on how to get there and get a slip assignment.  We got no answer from the marina when we called, but it was only 0745 now.  Sitting at idle off the tuna fishing boat wharfs, a fellow came to the end of the wharf and indicated where to go into the marina’s channel.  His motions corresponded with my hunch so we proceeded toward the marina.  Mind you, we have no depth sounder since it quit on us on our second day out of Panama City.  It was high tide so I figured that we had at least another four feet added to dry ground so we would probably be okay.  I went ahead slowly and we got into the marina basin without a problem.  As we approached, a person came down the docks and motioned for us to bring the boat to rest at that slip, which we did.  Welcome to Mexico - Enrique, the marina manager greeted us and said that the Port Captain and the Navy inspection team, with its drug sniffing dog will be arriving shortly to begin the check-in process.
About an hour later, the Navy arrived in a panga (a stout, twenty-foot long open boat with an outboard motor) - two sailors, a naval officer, the Port Captain and the dog. They approach the slip next to us and the dog is all hot to do its work, so much so that it climbs the gunnel of the panga and falls halfway into the water between their boat and the dock.  ‘Great’, I’m thinking, ‘now we’ll have a wet dog sniffing around inside our boat.’  I asked Barb to get a towel so that the dog could be dried off a little and not dripping salt water aboard, but the sailor waved me off indicating that it would not be necessary and they proceeded to tie the dog to the inside of the panga so she could not get off their boat at all.  The officer and the Port Captain came aboard and we did the show-and-tell with documents. They filled out paperwork which I signed and received my copies.  I asked if we needed to go to Customs and Immigration, but we were told that we only needed to go to Immigration at the airport and that the Navy officer was doing the paper work for the Customs officials.  We would be getting a ride with either Enrique or Memo (Enrique’s right hand man) from the marina to the airport at about 1pm to deal with Migración (Immigration).  I went to the marina office and they took my information which they entered into their computer, filled out the Migración form online and sent the information off as an e-mail to Migración at about 11:30am.
Memo took us to the airport and confided that there were two Migración officials.  One was a man and the other was a woman.  If the woman was there, he did not get along with her; so he would wait for us in the waiting area and would not go in with us.  The woman was there. 

So in we go and she seems nice enough, but she does not speak English so we struggle along with both of us straining to understand.  We fill out some paperwork and then she indicates that there is some problem and that we should get Memo to come and help us understand what the problem is.  Barb went out to tell Memo, but he said that he wasn’t going to talk to her.  The Migración lady said that we “regressan mas tarde” (come back later.)  Barb replied, Si, mas tarde. Lunes? (yes, later. Monday?) and she nodded yes and smiled.  We left and got into Memo’s truck and he began to drive away until the police waved him off the road (still on the airport grounds.)  Barb and I did not understand the exchange between Memo and the uniformed police and a man in civilian clothes.  Memo got out of the truck and the tone and gestures exchanged indicated to us that there was a major problem.  I asked Barb if the keys were still in the ignition switch in the event that if Memo got arrested, we could drive the truck.  The keys were there.  Memo came back to the truck and asked us, “Did I go into the Migración office?” We responded, “No.” He went back to the heated exchange outside the truck.  He came back and said that we were to get out of the truck and that this fellow, apparently another Migración official, would take care of this situation in his office.  We all entered the airport lobby and and went into his office.  Apparently, the Migración office had not received the marina’s e-mail with our information and that was why they would not stamp our passport and allow us to enter Mexico.  The gist of what Memo was “discussing” with the officers outside his truck was that if he was now transporting illegal aliens (us) that they should arrest him there and now.  He would call his boss and then the press and embarrass the officials, if that was what they wanted.  When we got to this second office, he told them to check their e-mail again and there was the information, sent over two hours ago.  The official’s attitude softened and he began to process our paperwork, stamped our passports and visitor’s cards and we became legal on the spot.  Memo had much to say about the efficiency of the system and we went on our way.  Memo dropped us off at the mall in the city of Tapachula where a Walmart was the anchor store and there were other shops and a Home Depot across the street.  Memo would be leaving us there to start his Holiday weekend, Epiphany, or Dia de los Santos Reyes, a gift giving day corresponding to the day when the Wisemen gave gifts to the baby Jesus.  He said that a taxi back to the marina should cost 150-180 pesos ($11-$15 USD) or that we could catch a collectivo on the other side of the main road for about 17 pesos each.
So we went to Walmart to do some food shopping.  Barb found much of what she needed, but not everything.  Mexican Walmarts do not carry everything that Walmarts in the USA carry, but they have some other things and the store is just as magnificent.  With bags in hand, we went to wait for a collectivo marked Zona Naval.  I asked a woman if we were in the right place for this collectivo and she said we were and said a bunch of other stuff that I did not understand. She was very nice.  When the Toyota nine-passenger van arrived with its ten occupants the three of us climbed in with our bags.  After three tries we were able to close the sliding door and off we went.  At the next stop a fellow got off and instead of remaining in the half of a seat that I had, I moved to his vacated seat.  I asked the woman next to me the cost of the ride por dos (for two), showing her two 20 peso bills and she responded treinte y dos (32 pesos - less than $3 USD.)  Barb had the exact change, so we were set.  The van made several stops, letting off passengers whereever they wanted along this main road and picking up people that held out a finger signaling the collectivo driver to pick them up.  And they drive fast!  Several miles down the road, they passed our turn toward the Zona Naval, but I figured that the driver would get us there eventually since that was one of the destinations printed on the windshield.  We entered the water front and fish processing town of Puerto Madera and the van now had four remaining passengers.  The driver made a U-turn and we headed back the way we came.  I leaned toward the driver and said, “Vamos a la marina Chiapas proxima la zona naval.” (we are going to the marina Chiapas next to the Naval zone) and he nodded.  This time he made the turn and then turned again into the port area where one passenger got out and despite the finger signals of some people along the roadside he picked up no more passengers.  He made the turn in the right direction and soon we came to the marina gate where he let us off and sped away with his one remaining passenger.
So, we were checked into Mexico (legally), have some grocery items and we were back to the marina, our boat and ready for a “land shower.”  The only downside is that there is no place to eat at the marina except at Chez Barbie.  It is my favorite place, but it means that Barb has to cook.  At least we are plugged into air conditioning for some comfort.  It is winter here in Mexico, but it is sunny Mexico and hot.
Meanwhile, be well.  We are.  ¡Feliz Dia de los Santos Reyes!