You ride Greyhound. I'll ride Chihuahua.

      As the policia motion me through the metal detector the distinct beep goes off, telling the federales that I may be carrying a little extra protection.  He asks for my pocket knife.  If I plan onj leaving Juarez, it's a necessary sacrifice.  Then my bags are to be x-rayed.  Best to hand over everything now before I end up in a back room with no cameras.  Doubling back I surrender my much larger hunting knife to the officer.  He examines the blade.  Quality american full tang construction with a titanium nitride coating.  Courtesy of your local walmart.  In return he gives me a wide eyed look of disbelief.  I simply shrug my shoulders with an expression that says, "What did you expect, this is Juarez."  After a final bag check and more tips demanded from bag handlers, I'm on my way to Puerto Vallarta.  

      A quick side note, mexicans expect to be tipped for nearly everything.  Opening the door, tip.  Holding my bags, tip.  Doing your fucking job, tip.  Well fine, Mexico.  It may be your culture.  It may be because I'm a gringo.  But from now on, I'm not tipping more than 5 pesos, and if you don't like it you can suck my chorizo!

      I always thought travelling by bus was a great way to save money, meet people, and see the landscape.  However, when you no habla the español and you're riding through a desert, things can be a bit more complicated.

    While Mexico's towns and villas provide endless sources of exploration, rural mexico can seem like the chase scene in a Wily Coyote cartoon where the background constantly repeats itself.  Desert, mountain, a horse, desert, mountain, a dead horse.  But you can always lean back, get comfy, and watch american movies badly dubbed in spanish.  James Cameron's Avatar crosses all borders.

      Buses south of the border tend to be much slower than their northern counter parts.  With the country's rough geography, rougher or nonexistant roads, sporadic habitation, and tollbooths actively patrolled by automatic rifle toting federales, it's a wonder some of these buses survive the journey at all.  On more than one occasion I found myself praying to whoever is the patron saint of get-me-the-fuck-outta-here.  Luckily my cries to the universe were heard and there were few, if any, head on collisions.

    With no real itenerary to speak of, the autobus meanders from town to town until I'm the only passenger in the vehicle.  Having all this room to move around and a never ending supply of spanish Disney movies, I feel like a third world rock star.Every once in a while stopping for an on the go burrito or a street taco stand.

      Unfortunately there's a certain level of guilt as I bite into my 10 peso tacos, and it's of the four legged variety.  Animal lovers beware; across the border animals are treated like... well, animals.  There isn't a dog catching service for the strays and even if there was it would be a hell of a time telling a stray dog from the scores of underged house pets wandering the streets in the night.

     Biting into my bistek taco a hungry pup stares at me, ribs sticking out like a Sudanese famine refugee.  Complete with mange and the eyes that I had on previously seen on overly sad American propaganda SPCA commercials for abused animals, its too moch for me.  My heart, like the hearts of most overly sympathetic foreigners, begins to bleed all over the streets of Mexico.  I hold out my hand for a cautious sniff, then feed the half dead canine a piece of jerky from my back pack.  The dog, inhales the dried meat product so fast it nearly chokes.  Instead the voracious, creeping eyes begin to emerge behind dumpsters and back alleys.

     With my ride leaving and no way to save all the animals of the world, I reboard and settle in for the night. Munching on my go-food there's a spot inside my that all the dehydrated, sodium infused cow flesh can't fill. It's occupied by starving dogs, cats, dead horses, and one burning question; at what point do you stop helping?  Forget animals, when can you turn a blind eye to pleading people?  If I gave away a few pesos to every beggar I'd be starving too.

    Full of philosophy and a 48 hour bus ride later, El Autobus Transportes Chihuahuenses reaches it's destination of Puerto Vallarta.