We've left jobs, said goodbyes (for now) and our surfboards are packed. With "Jesus es mi Copiloto" proudly written in a script font on the back of the truck we're beginning to feel like we might fit in down south.... well, i haven't died my hair, yet. But that is Griffin's mustache.
On Monday we plan to go to the Mexican consolate in Austin, TX and find out which route they recommend through the first few (hundred) tumultuous miles of the border. If we heeded the warnings that have been lashed out of surprised faces in Texas we would be carrying a 9 mm and staying north of the border. But that doesn't sound nearly as fun as carrying surfboards south of the border.
“The tragedy of life is not death but what dies inside us while we live.” —
We'll be updating this blog weekly (hopefully) for those who want to check in.
