The good thing about travel to another culture is that it forces me out of my zone of comfort and illusion of control. I eat different food, wonder about the purity of the water, become intrigued by the day to day customs and observe the state of their vehicles

The sad thing about travel to another culture is that it forces me out of my zone of comfort and illusion of control. I like to know whether I will enjoy the food I’m eating, when I’m thirsty where to find water, to never wonder whether I need to tip the person who bags our groceries and where to find gas, not to mention my favourite chair and bed!

We have only been in Rosarito, in Baja California, Mexico, a few days - and so I know nothing! However, among the first impressions is that it seems a blend of American expressions of affluence and poverty. Even though I know my home territory of Esquimalt is not entirely safe, the razor wire on top of some buildings there does not concern me as much as the jagged glass mounted on the top of some Mexican walls. 

As I age, one of a primary concern was to locate a local clinic and hospital - just in case. I have grown accustomed to taking comfort from the myth that the Canadian medical system is one of the finest in the world, even though the World Health System ranks us #30 (with the US being #37, Mexico - #61) 

While here a friend had a minor medical emergency. A quick trip down the road and she was seen immediately by a doctor, at 10 pm, diagnosed and given the appropriate medicine. The cost was about $20 US. One of the interesting things about this episode was that we had all, unconsciously, run scenarios intended to get her back to Canada, ASAP should the symptoms prove life-threatening.

Rosarito is a stunning place. I wonder how long it will take me to learn to read those deep, subtle signs of a culture that reveal the underlying beauty, movements and tensions.