You know, I lived fairly close to Mexico for the past decade or so. (Close is a relative term), and there were even a few times I was just a few miles away from the border. But until this past week, I can honestly say I never went to Mexico.
I can say that no more.
You see, I needed a driver’s license. And to get that driver’s license, I had to go to Mexico. I’ve heard a lot about the place over the years, and I have to say it was nothing like what I expected. For one thing, I always thought it was a country, not a city. And I thought it was south of the US. Nope. It’s west of Farmington, Maine. And as for the food there, there was only one place that stood out–and that was called The Chicken Coop. No Mexican restaurants at all to speak of.
Still, the DMV in Mexico is very nice, and it wasn’t long before I was finished. (Gotta love living in a place with few enough people that a trip to the DMV isn’t a horrendous experience.)
Seriously, this part of the Maine has some wacky place names. Just check out this set of road signs.
See what I mean? Maybe next time I should keep going when I get to Mexico. It looks like China’s only another 48 miles.