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This is the end to the last Mexico trip blog I posted. It felt like it took years to finally arrive at the border. One thing that really shocked me was the lack of security they had when entering Mexico. We rolled down the windows to the Excursion and held our passports right next to our faces. Without checking the dates on them or really paying attention to the connection between the picture and our faces, they let us pass through. It was obvious that they didn’t care about what passed through there. The thing they cared about most was us entering back into the United States. We passed about 300 cars trying to enter into the U.S., most of them Mexican.
The change between El Paso, Texas and Juarez, Mexico was such a downgrade more than I can even explain. You would have to see it yourself to believe me. It seemed as if everywhere you looked was the “ghetto”. Buildings were run down, small, and had graffiti tattooed all over them. There were Mexican people trying to make a living out of selling pop and miscellaneous items on the street corners or on the median between going and coming traffic. There was more poverty in that one city than I had ever seen in my entire life. Overall the scarcity, deficiency, and poverty Juarez was so beautiful.
I felt so much of their pain throughout the four days I stayed there. Little things like not being able to use the tap water, taking cold showers, surviving the awful wind and sandstorms, the dreadful beating sun, the violence, and scarce materials really made me think of how much better life is for me, yet I still complain.
The house that the family had already was made out of cinderblocks, a material that acts like a freezer in the winter and a sauna in the summer. I felt so bad for the family. Their bathroom wasn’t connected to the house and was made out of plywood and duct tape, barely standing up. It looked like random scraps were holding it up. Since the family didn’t have running water anything other than a liquid put down the toilet was to be washed down with a bucket of water.
The change between El Paso, Texas and Juarez, Mexico was such a downgrade more than I can even explain. You would have to see it yourself to believe me. It seemed as if everywhere you looked was the “ghetto”. Buildings were run down, small, and had graffiti tattooed all over them. There were Mexican people trying to make a living out of selling pop and miscellaneous items on the street corners or on the median between going and coming traffic. There was more poverty in that one city than I had ever seen in my entire life. Overall the scarcity, deficiency, and poverty Juarez was so beautiful.
I felt so much of their pain throughout the four days I stayed there. Little things like not being able to use the tap water, taking cold showers, surviving the awful wind and sandstorms, the dreadful beating sun, the violence, and scarce materials really made me think of how much better life is for me, yet I still complain.
The house that the family had already was made out of cinderblocks, a material that acts like a freezer in the winter and a sauna in the summer. I felt so bad for the family. Their bathroom wasn’t connected to the house and was made out of plywood and duct tape, barely standing up. It looked like random scraps were holding it up. Since the family didn’t have running water anything other than a liquid put down the toilet was to be washed down with a bucket of water.
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