PicaJet Blog

There’s “adventurous” travel and then there is “dangerous” travel.  Since neither my husband nor I are members of the CIA, nor are we navy seals, we have placed limitations on our travel experiences.   Those limitations recently affected one of our travel decisions: an end-of-summer trip to Belize.

Having reviewed a recent Canadian foreign affairs travel report, we have decided that Belize is not the place for us - at least not this year.  

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Who are these people?  We didn’t know them either, that is until we attended their wedding, uninvited.  But you haven’t lived until you’ve crashed a Mexican wedding.

 My husband and I don’t normally go uninvited to the wedding of strangers, but cheap happy hour drinks, great Mexican food, and authentic Mariachi music were too attractive to resist.  An evening out at a local Mexican restaurant sounded like a great idea.  We weren’t planning on the wedding. 

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Looking for drugs?  Do you need a tooth fixed?  Or maybe you just have a yen for a darn good taco.

A visit to Brownsville, Texas is great but you must spend at least one day in a foreign country when in the area.   And that’s so easy to do, because Mexico is just a short drive, or walk, away.

You can choose from a variety of entry points (International Bridges), but double your fun with a drive up Hwy 281, the “Old Military” highway, and hang a left at Progresso.

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Okay, call me a traitor, call me a fool, call me any name you like but I had to take the chance.  I made a decision, before a recent trip to southern Texas and New Orleans, to leave my heavy Olympus Evolt E-300 DSLR at home.  I replaced it with a sleek little 12-megapixel Fuji FinePix F50 compact digital camera. 

My husband looked at me askance as he repeatedly asked me if I still wanted to take my DSLR camera.  I told him, firmly, “No.”  That I would take my chances.  And that I would live with my decision.  Only time would tell if I had made a terrible mistake . . .

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“Oh, look a snake!” 

The urgency in my husband’s voice was alarming.  We had just been warned by a local Texan to watch out for snakes inhabiting the bushes.  And sure enough, in one of the older, more deserted, most appealing graveyards, just outside of Brownsville, along Highway 281, a snake crossed our paths.

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There is hell on earth, and it’s called, “deep sea fishing.”  What was I thinking, or rather, what was my husband thinking when he agreed to a 5-hour deep sea fishing adventure? 

We took our first deep sea fishing trip just off the coast of South Padre Island in Texas.   To me, it was an adventure; to my husband, it was an unending journey into the depths of hell.

Read on . . .

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