Mexico on a Motorcycle Part Three
Everywhere we see huge convoys of military police. They are stationed at various places on the road and are fully armed with machine guns. Clearly they mean business. Their role is to look for drugs and weapons. They also love to look at motorcycles and will frequently stop a group just to look. Their command of English is limited and I am glad I am with a native Spanish speaker.
The country side is full of orange groves and it is harvest time. The trees are full of oranges and one lady gives us a bag of fresh oranges from her tree. Huge trucks full of oranges rumble past us much to the amazement of the others in our group. Canadians, Mississippians, South Dakotans, Chicagoans don’t see citrus fruit in its natural habitat.
The farm land is divided by stone fences all constructed three hundred years ago by conquered Indian tribes. Much of the work is done with horses or mules as the fields are too small for mechanized implements. Many of the fields are too stony and irregular even by my Southwestern Wisconsin drift less area aesthetics.