Wow, maybe some things never change ...
I'm actually on my way to the Dominican Rep. this week, but decided to check into this forum to see how things are going in my old happy hunting ground of NL and BT. I lived and worked in Laredo for three years. Reading this thread brings back a flood of happy, and some not-so-happy, memories.
Hey Spazmid ... all you were able to eat at Papagayo's kitchen was rice and beans? Poor guy. Me and my friends would eat there two, three times a week -- always arroz con pollo. And very filling, all you could eat, of course. The price was always right, too. And there's something about drinking an ice cold Tecate and wolfing down a good homemade meal while sitting at a table with three or four barely dressed chicas who are playing games with you under the table.
Glad to hear Papagayos and Tamyko are still kicking. We would also take a loop around the compound, but in the end, Papagayos, Tamyko, Mirabu were the places to hang out. Sometimes we just went to BT for the scenary, so to speak, beer, dancing ... We knew most of the chicas. There were Bianca and Patty, who used to come across the river to shop and they would stay at my apartment. There were also times I would stay overnight with them at Mirabu. But the powers-that-be lock the outside gates when they do finally close. So when I would need to leave at 7 or 8 in the morning, I had to climb over the gate.
The policia sound a lot more brazen than when I was making the trip, almost always by taxi, but sometimes by car -- that is, after they finally paved most of the road to BT. So you know how far I go back. That one stretch of road before the turnoff to BT was where you might get pulled over. It only happened to me once in three years. But that was enough. Trust me.
I speak Spanish pretty well, but my strategy was to make them think that I didn't know what they were talking about. That will get only get you so far, depending on the cop's desperation factor. So what happens is this. One cop gets in my car, tells me to follow the other cop, which I do. Then we pull over again. I get the same conversation. They want a mordida (payoff). We drive off again, pull over again, same thing. I was drunk, trying to call their bluff, being assertive, which was WRONG. Next stop was jail.
I got tossed in a very small cell with about 15 Mexicans, and that's when you need to do your Crazy Gringo routine. I'd say it's about 1 a.m. Around 3 a.m., they drag a few of us outside to have our photos taken by the local newspapers. Then back to the clinker. Around 8 a.m., the lawyers show up, and at that point, let me assure you, I was willing to pay whatever it takes. I was out one hour later. The lawyer drove me back across the river to my apartment. But first I asked him to pull over on Guerrero. I had to throw up. One knee on the sidewalk, one knee in the gutter, with busy Nuevo Laredoans going to work, puking my guts. Eyes that have seen, know what I mean.
Anyway, talking to friends down there and others who still visit, most say it's really playing Russian Roulette ... and I'm not just talking about BT. The drug wars. But I'll leave those observations for folks who are closer to the scene these days. I prefer to keep my good memories. And, man, there were some good ones.
We used to call BT "Disneyland." Man, the rides are fun. I know I will go back some day. But not soon.
I'm off to DR, then to Cuba. If you want real Mexico, go to Monterrey. I lived there too for about 6 months. But that's another story.
Thanks for the memories!