Corozal, Sandhill and definitely not Yulin

In about 5km into the country of Belize we made a little stop so Panchito and Daniel could for the last time use their cell phones with Mexican reception and get in touch with their loved ones and say their goodbyes. While they were making quick calls there was a car heading towards us. The thing about Belizian roads is - they don't really have street lights on them. So it was pitch-dark and there was this truck nearing us at pretty high velocity with his high beams on.
Driver opened the window and to make us feel welcome in his country shouted:
"Fucking Mexicans!" and drove away. Lovely!
Corozal is a small city just a short drive away from the border. This was the place for us to sleep. First of all we needed to get some food though. After not having anything to eat for almost two full days we felt a bit peckish.
We parked our van next to a playground for obvious reasons - there was light and it was more or less in the centre with enough people around. After I redistributed our three, by this time already warm, beers, we noticed dozen of kids that were still having fun on the playground. It was already around 10-11pm and there were some adults watching them.
Daniel went to ask where we could find something cheap to eat and that's how we met Jose and his 12 kids. A very friendly guy with a sweet wife and lots of interesting stories that I shan't write about. He invited us to sleep in his garden, provided us with water, wifi and a bit of herbs to spice up our lives a bit.
In the morning we were served delicious breakfast by Jose's wife and the man himself took us to buy car insurance and to show us the way to Belize city. He also hooked us up with a contact in Sandhill, a small settlement couple hours south of Corozal.
On our way there we picked up a hitch hiker, let's call him Asparagus. He seemed like a good fellow and it was pretty chill ride. Until he showed us his hand where was a big chunk of meat missing. Now, he did tell us how it happened and the whole story was pretty surreal, to the point I was disgusted and shocked, but unfortunately I remember only pieces of it. Anyway here you go, the super short version.

There was a guy at the bar who was threatening him.
Asparagus calmly took out his knife.
With the same calm he cut out a chunk of meat from his hand.
Asparagus told the guy to fuck off that he isn't scared.
The other guy quit his bullshit.
Asparagus swore that on the day of her 16th birthday, he will rape this guy's daughter.
There is no way he could hide her.
To punish him.
To show him who is the boss.
To ruin his life.

With 16 she will be legal, therefore it's not rape.

Fucked up, huh? Well you should have seen his creepy smile when he was telling us this story and his future rape plans with such pride. The girl's life doesn't mean shit.

Needless to say the rest of the ride with Asparagus was a bit quiet. But soon enough we got to Sandhill and were looking for the contact that Jose gave us. And that's how we met Andrew, his wife Andris and their two sons - Andrew and Andris. With those two little rascals we spent quite some time playing and messing around.

Big Andrew let us stay for two nights by his house and third night took us camping to an island. We went fishing on his boat. Unfortunately we didn't catch a lot of fish that would be good enough to sell, we did catch lots of catfish though, but people here don't like it. I wasn't happy about the dead fish being just thrown back to sea, so I took a knife and tried to learn how to cut out a fillet. After 7 fish I more or less succeeded and stopped doing it for all the blood and smell.

The night was crazy. Never have I had the pleasure of meeting so many mosquitos. People in my country say that Finland or Sweden are full of these little buzzing fuckers, but trust me when I say that's nothing if you compare it to Belizean swamps by the sea. We basically woke up (that's a lie, we didn't really sleep) half eaten.

I hope you can see all the bites. It's only like couple of hundreds of them.

With the sun rising up we could fully appreciate the beauty of this place. Due to a hurricane that came through here not so long ago, the beaches were filled with Mayan jewelry, antique Spanish pottery and tons of human bones and skulls. Quite spectacular sight if you ask me. It's places like these archeologists get wet dreams about.

On our last day by Andrew's house, Daniel and Panchito fixed our can (again), while I was just writing these couple of pages because I'm maladroit when it comes to technical stuff.

Borderline assholes

First we had to deal with my visa. Overstaying it in any country by 13 days can be pretty serious. But then again this was Mexico and anything is possible. (Unless you kill a cow, then you are done for good. Seriously, you can kill people and sell drugs and might get away with it, but god help you if you kill a cow.) So I was hoping for the best.
Worst case scenario I would get deported - free ride home, yay! But I didn't really feel like it, at least not yet. Both Panchito and Daniel went with me to the immigration office to translate, help and support me. In the end I just had to put up with silly jokes about shaving my beard, pay 390 pesos fine and write an explanation of why I haven't left earlier.
So I sat down face to face with a chubby Mexican officer, who was really proud of his bushy moustache that was spreading all over his greasy upper lip and began to write. I went to great lengths to explain how our car broke down multiple times, how we got cheated by the auto mechanics and that it was never my intention to stay in the country longer. "I would never dare to disrespect Mexican authorities", "I wish to come back in the future to see and appreciate all the beautiful wonders that this breath taking country has to offer" - basically I was being a little bitch that would write down anything to avoid problems.

Taking photos in the office. Yup, you can get in trouble for that.

After I finished writing, there was need to translate it to Spanish. Lovely immigration lady who was in charge really translated just my name (written Martín now) and couple of sentences about the car. The rest was useless, so I'm very happy I spent 20 minutes writing this essay for no reason. When asked about my last job I told her the truth, I was looking for bombs and explosives on construction sites in Germany...apparently that wasn't right anymore and I worked as a waiter. So remember kids, don't lie to the police, they will do the lying it for you.
After all this was done we had a little chat with this lady and she start ranting about backpackers hitchhiking around, sleeping in hostels, tents or on beaches, getting girls pregnant, selling jewelry and playing terrible music on streets to get money. How she despises them and wants to deport them all, or something like that. I was doing my best not to look like that's exactly how I live.

For your information if you overstay your visa in Mexico, you are fine if it's for less than one week. Then it all depends on your behaviour, Spanish and officers.

After two hours we went straight for the Belizian border. Never in my life have I seen more annoyed immigration officers. When they found out that the car is under a different name I thought we are in big trouble.
First officer was annoyed because we didn't have a pen to fill in the immigration form and he had to lend us his. I think it's standard procedure to have and lend pens at the border - but here it's apparently seen as something very demanding. It took a long time to fill it in completely and when one of us made a mistake and needed to do it all over again, the officer kept his cool, but I could see in his eyes that his little mind is exploding with pure hatred. I guess he liked his pen a lot and the lost of this much ink was something he feared in life the most.
Second officer granted us visa for 14 days (normal is one month), stamped our passports and let us pass through to a lady at the cashier. Here comes the trouble I thought when I saw her annoyed face that also hinted she doesn't understand our situation and is not really willing to at least try to comprehend what the deal with our license plate was.
But Daniel, the silver tongued devil that he is, swooned her with his charm and soon enough she sent us to the main and last border check.
Group of policeman and soldiers stopped our car and told us to get out. I had to stand against the wall while one of them checked me for any contraband. I was kind of expecting a cavity search. Luckily this check wasn't an all inclusive one, therefore my fears stayed unfulfilled.
Three guys got in the car and turned it inside out. Asking us what is this and what is that. They showed absolutely no hesitation when they got to our carton of smokes and 3 (!) beers, which we bought in the free zone. They took it all and put it right on the pavement.
"Why is that?" I asked.
"It's not allowed." was the answer. "It's from the free zone, you need a permission for that!"
I smelled some serious bullshit. "I thought I don't need a permission for 200 cigarettes."
"...yeah...no, uh, you need one."
When I asked where can I get one, he pointed about 1km back and said "There". So I was ready to go "there" but then he stopped me and with an assholish smile informed me that it's forbidden to go back from here.
If I understood it correctly - you buy stuff, bring it all the way here and nobody says a word during previous checks, then you get here and they take it from you, because you don't have a permission nobody informed you about and you can't return because reasons. By the end of this Kafkaesque adventure you spent money, don't have shit and the policemen get it for free. And they do it to everyone. There were so many ciggies and booze on the ground!
So the Belizian border police is a lot like Robin Hood. The only difference is that they don't only take from the rich, but from the poor as well and keep all the riches for themselves. ...also they don't wear green tights, so it's maybe safer to just call them thieves.
For the whole duration of this little border assfuckery was Daniel in one of the cubicles with yet another officer. I have no idea what they were talking about. But I'm sure he wasn't there for hours just to chill. By the end Daniel had to go back to the first office for the lovely lady.
When they returned both were smiling and joking. What a magic. She stamped everything and when asked about our beloved tobacco products and alcoholic refreshment, she told me to go with her and get it. The policemen were visibly ashamed and told me to hide it from security cameras. Bunch of stealing bastards. Nobody can take our cancer sticks away from us.
It took us more than 5 hours to get from Mexico to Belize. But we made it.

Leaving Mierdida

Long time since I've posted anything. I will write just the most important things. The story starts in September... I think, I'm not even sure.

Panchito, Daniel and I bought a Volkswagen van. It was supposed to be in perfect condition, and perhaps it was. But because Mexico is...well Mexico, the mechanic poked a huge hole in our oil tank in order to make us come back for repairs.
So after travelling 10 kilometers heading south from Merida, we had to turn around and drive back. To a different mechanic who took about 5 days to fix it, because it was weekend and also national holiday. Bad luck, because I was already staying illegally in the country and more days just meant more problems while crossing the border.
Anyway the car was fixed once again and we were driving south. But guess what? The oil was leaking again, we found out at the same gas station like we did before. I just looked at Panchito, then looked at Daniel who started laughing. I went straight for a beer to the gas station shop and then Daniel promised me, that we will be leaving tomorrow again and that he will fix it himself.
He is a man of his word, after we got back to Merida, those two talented bastards took out the engine, fixed everything and off we went just a day later.

We were driving over night and we were blessed with a beautiful police checkpoint. Two cops stopped us and wanted to see our documents, alright I thought, no problem. What happened next was a comical example of bribery. When there is nothing to take, cops will take anything. They were almost satisfied with taking a big portion of our polished stones and stuff to make bracelets and things to sell on the way. But when they found that Daniel and Panchito are from Chihuahua (everyone there is a narco - that's how the cops said it), Daniel's license was old and broken in two pieces and the license plate is still on the name of the previous owner, they wanted cash. 50 pesos. And that's it, nobody was even mad, that was incredibly cheap. Especially if you consider me being illegal and Panchito having weed on him - none of those things did the cops ever find out, but for me is enough just to think of possible consequences. That's why 50 pesos is almost ridiculous.

Our first stop was in Bacalar. We tried to get a new drivers license for Daniel and new plates for the car. But that ain't easy.
First he needed to visit a doctor, then get a passport photo taken. On top of that he had to pass a driving test, but most importantly he would have to be a citizen of the state of Quintana Roo, to get a license. It didn't take much to fake this, he "only" needed an adress and utility bill from someone from Bacalar. A place where we didn't know anyone. Not an easy task indeed.
But luckily Daniel is Daniel and he can talk his way out of everything, so he secured the adress in no time from a random guy in a cyber café and the bill as well.
Unfortunately we still had to sleep by the Bacalar lagoon, which was nice, but it made me even more nervous due to my already rapidly growing overstay of my visa.

After a short talk with a hippie chick Nikol from Poland we were offered a spot to park our car for the night and it was right by the shore too! The night was nice, lots of music and weed with hippie folks from all over the world. Yes, there was a drum circle involved, also dancing with fire, couple of guitars and dancing with some kind of star shaped cloth. I'm not really into the hippie culture as maybe some of you already know. It just seems pretentious in many cases and... annoying as hell.
One guy - Jimmy - older American, who has taken way too many drugs in his life, has lived in Mexico for 20 years already. I guess he was hiding from the authorities and also was a bit out of it, talking about ancient aliens and stuff, but he was also a great musician therefore it was fun to be in his company. Not only for the music that is, also for the funny space talks.
In the morning Daniel passed his test and we were heading to the city of Chetumal to get new plates.
After lots of paperwork we were ready to put them on the car. What a surprise it was when they told us we would get them in December. That was about three months of waiting.
...fuck it we are leaving for Belize anyway. The border crossing was fun and I can only wish you could have been there.

Me and Lorenzo rolling in a benzo...diazepine

I haven’t posted anything in a long time…so I’m changing it now. I will write about my tinder experience in Mexico. The thing is, I’m not very picky and I am very lonely so I’m basically just looking for any company and new people to meet. That’s why I don’t even look at the photos anymore or read descriptions, beggars can’t be choosers and also who has the time to look at all 10 photos of a random girl, when 5 of them is with a dog filter anyway, two are motivational quotes and the rest is more or less blurry… because it’s very artsy to put some random ass fliter on it. Therefore I swipe right. All the time. Without looking at it. You know, just sitting on a toilet (cause that’s the only place I get bored and can’t do much else for fun) and trying my luck with this slot machine of hookups.
Sometimes I get a match with trans folks. They are basically all the same, profile picture is usually their ass or fake boobs. And they don’t waste any time with a polite chat. It’s all about fucking by the end of third sentence. It’s a bit more difficult for me to explain that I’m not really sure I want to proceed to the no pants dance with them, since my knowledge of Spanish is limited. Usually it just ends by me apologizing or just not answering anymore.
Then there are gay guys. You know, those who set up the profile as a girl to try their luck and see if maybe one of the desperate hetero guys will change his mind while looking at his photo. I don’t like that, but hell they are so polite! Not only I got offered a dinner, place to sleep but also a cab that would take me 40km to his city. Which sounds very nice, if I ignore the fact that I might end up in some rape dungeon, getting my pooper drilled on regular basis and whatnot. So I just apologize again and ignore them afterwards.
Now we get to the girls. Ahh. From my experience I have this rule – they always have about 20kilos more than on their photos. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, I love chubby girls, damn I like everything, it’s just surprising. Anyway about 80% of the girls I get match with never response to me, I suppose tinder is just a way for them to feel better about themselves. I don’t know. And when they do respond and we set up a date, they won’t show up. Like not at all. I could be waiting for two hours but no more, because Mexican time is a thing. Everyone is late all the time and it’s not a big deal. So imagine me just waiting on a street sweating bullets, because it’s hot as hell and then leaving for home after about 90 minutes of fun waiting and thinking about not being loved and alone forever. Rarely I get an excuse or explication. Most of the time they just don’t talk to me again. Can’t say I understand it. I mean it’s tinder date, you can say no and nobody will get their feelings hurt or something. But doing this is just mean.
Girls I’ve never met but still talk to. There is couple of them. And they are great. Nice girls that I can call my friends now. But it’s literally a couple of them. Then there are others that will just text me how horny they are and where the hell am I. Thousands of miles away from them, bad luck. What happened today and what made me write this post is…I got a cam show. And very, very good one. About two months ago I got a match with a very hot girl, which is a rare occurrence and she asked me for my skype. That happened to me before, the girls just wanted to see if it’s really me and see if we could talk. So I gave her my skype. She messaged me today, called me in about five minutes later and dear lord, what a call that was. I basically just sat and watched and enjoyed what I’ve seen. No, no wanking, just watching in shock. So thank you random Mexican for making my day!
Now to the girls I’ve met. All two of them. They were one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. Sure there was a language barrier but it was still great to meet someone, talk to them and not be let down. It doesn’t matter how it turned out but I made friends! Which is always a great thing. Tinder is a great thing if only people wouldn’t be so full of themselves and just looking for ego boost.
Also, fuck the dog filter, seriously that shit needs to stop.

What a fucking waster. You pissed it all up the wall.

Probudil jsem se a vylezl z postele, ohlédl se na hluboce spící, až do teď vedle mě ležící, Rakušanku a začal slepovat střípky z událostí minulé noci. Došel na záchod, chodidla se mi přilepila na lepkavou studenou podlahu a začal jsem vylučovat ostře žlutou tekutinu. Promnul si oči a říkal si "Ještě né, ještě né, už!" A popadla mě děsivá bolest hlavy.
Při pečlivém čištění zubního plaku a nažloutlého potahu na mém jazyku jsem si povšiml, že mi v oku praskla cévka a tak je řádně rudé. Jo, to bude ten kamikadze shot. To vysvětluje i ostré štípání v levé nosní dírce. Inu, kapat si do oka limetku a šňupat sůl není zrovna nejlepší nápad. Asi nikdy.
Ucpal jsem pravý nosní otvor a počal frkat do umyvadla. Docela krvavej kekel. Následně jsem zaujal pozici pod studenou sprchou a pohledem hypnotizoval kosočtvercové, lehce zašedlé kachle. Pár minut jsem tam postával a pak se usnesl, že už by to stačilo. Navlékl jsem plavky a vypotácel se z koupelny. Všichni byli ještě mrtví.
Došel jsem k oknu, koukal na moře a palmy, ranní oáza klidu mezi bouří noci předchozí a děním dne právě začínajícího. Ledabyle se opírám o okenní římsu a skenuji pokoj. Na zemi to vypadá jak po fesťáku, plechovky, vylitý piva a použitý kondomy, které jsou důkazem lásky, která sice nemá dlouhého trvání, ale o to je intenzivnější. Sáhnu po krabičce od Luckies a doufám, že se v ní ještě nějaká ta smrt tyčka nachází. Srdce mi zaplesá, když uzřím, že se tam ještě jedna poslední, šťastná vyskytuje, má duhový filtr a tak chutná dvojnásob. Přisunu k sobě popelník přetékající popelem a zapálím si.

Dorazil jsem odpoledne, dal sprchu a hned vyrazil koupit piva. Na střeše sedělo dost lidí. 6 Švédek, Němka, Američanka. A já. Inu, to byl příznivý poměr, nemohl jsem si stěžovat. Jak noc ubíhala, alkohol ubýval a opilost rostla. Po půlnoci přišla Rakušanka a Argentinec. A já dotáhl lahev mezcalu. Takže dobrý večer, pojďme dělat špatná rozhodnutí.
Němka po mně vyjíždí, ale já místo toho šňupu sůl. V lahvi od mezcalu je červ, ale nejde ho dostat ven. Takže ji rozbiju a střepy jsou všude okolo. Chodíme na boso a naše chodidla jsou už ledasčemu přivyklá, takže nějakej ten střípek nás nerozhodí. Labužnicky pozřu červíka a pořežu si dásně o střepy. No co, stanou se i horší věci. Ale fakt, že nemůžu dýchat, na jedno oko nevidím a teď i plivu krev je taky docela žůžovej.
Uprostřed noci se usnesem, že se pujdem koupat bez plavek. Tak jdem na pláž a kupujem další chlasty. Němka a Američanka to rozjížděj, což je velice zábavné pozorovat a vůbec, všechno je to super pohled. Kdybychom s Argentincem tak moc neholdovali alkoholu, asi bychom se obávali trapné erekce. Ale s tou voltáží, co nám koluje v žilách je to nemožné. A navíc, stejně by to nebylo trapný, když se dvě pěkný holky lesběj, tak je to snad i přijatelná reakce.
Voda je teplá, špinavá, plná igeliťáků, lahví a oleje z lodí z nedalekého přístavu, není to zrovna nejlepší koupání na světě, ale to je nám úplně jedno. Rakušanka zvolá "Ty seš hrozně chlupatej." já opáčím "Né? Fakt, ježiš, kdy se tohle stalo? Cestou sem na pláž? To je hrůza..." Ona se zasměje a odhalí tak svůj olbřímí úsměv, kterým trochu připomíná Farina Urlauba z Die Ärzte.

Vracíme se na hostel a tvoříme jednu velkou všemilující skupinu. Já skočím do OXXO pro další pivíska a když se vrátím na střechu, už je tam jen Němka a Rakušanka a řešej Angelu. Otočím se na podpatku a užívám si shower beer. Následně zkusím střechu znova. Lepší. Už se řešej kraviny, tak jak to má být. A pak už stačí jen dopít všechny zásoby a jít do postele.

Má poslední šťastná Luckies dohoří a já ji zabořím do hromádky popelu. Rakousko a Německo se probouzí, dám oběma pusu, tak jak jsem to dělal celou noc a ony na mě spiklenecky pomrkávají, zatímco já se snažím ignorovat skutečnost, že si ještě nevyčistily zuby. Jakmile se znovu postavím z postele, zahlédnu plechovku India. To, že je teplý, je úplně jedno. Jestli mi něco může pomoci od toho masivního dunění v mé hlavě a bolestivě tepajících spánků, tak je to pivo. Ozve se uspokojivý zvuk otevírající se plechovky a já začnu usrkávat. Posadím se na postel, Německo na mě upřeně hledí z horní palandy. Rakousko taky, ale z mojí, dolní. A já se přece nebudu sápat nahoru. Vyměníme si úsměvy, já normální, ona svuj polo-kobylí a není těžké se rozhodnout, co si teď počnu. Lezu pod deku, pivo však třímám pevně v ruce, jedině to mě totiž může dostat skrz tenhle horkej, kocovinou naplněnej den.

Weekend rockstars in the toilets. Practicing their lines.

Culiacan. Sin City. Pobýval jsem tam přes tři týdny a upřímně nemůžu sepsat všechno, co jsem dělal. Protože si toho spoustu nepamatuju. Možná většinu.
Nejdelší doba, kterou jsem tam strávil střízlivej, byly dva dny. A to jen proto, že jsem trpěl masivní kocovinou, při které i vstát z postele bylo pekelným počinem.

První den mého příjezdu mě Muri uvítal na busáku se šesti vychlazenejma pivama a jointem. Tráva už mi moc nevoní, takže jsem jí pohrdnul, ale piva se hodila. Nalil
jsem do sebe čtyři během půl hodiny. Než jsme jeli domů, zamířili jsme na jídlo. Ale předtím jsme si udělali zastávku ve velice pochybné čtvrti. Já měl za
úkol neopouštět auto, což jsem s radostí splnil. Za pár minut už jsme jeli na čerstvé krevety s pytlíkem cocobela v kapse. Odtud už to jde jenom s kopce.

V tento den měl taktéž Murislav závěrečnou zkoušku na univerzitě. Ta probíhala tak, že jsme chlastali u kamarádů na bytě, sjížděli se a on hledal, komu by mohl
zaplatit, aby za něj ten test udělal. Nikoho bohužel nesehnal, takže to dělal online ve stavu více než podroušeném. A prošel. A tak se z něj stal inženýr.
O úrovni místního školství mám tedy jisté pochyby, ale budiž, není to moje starost.
Zbytek večera jsme strávili kolem stolu na zahradě, ve které poklidně bublala fontána a občas se nám mezi nohama promotala jedna ze dvou koček. Jak noc plynula,
piva mizela a kluci pořád odjížděli kupovat další a další pytlíky pudru, které pak bezstarostně likvidovali, jako by se nechumelilo. Ale ono chumelilo. A hodně.

Asi ve čtyři jsem tuto společnost opustil a šel spát, mládežníci však ještě pokračovali do brzkých ranních hodin.
11:00. Povstávám a zdravím panímámu. Pak už si nic nevybavuju až do večera, seděli jsme u kamarádů na bytě a vydatně se opíjeli. Třikrát jsem zvracel a to nebyla
ani půlnoc. Po pár dnech mi došlo, že to je tím hnusným pivem a né mou opilostí. Stačilo mi dát si dvě a ony už se draly vrchem zpátky na svět. Nicméně párty jela.
Kokain s příchutí grepu? Není problém.

O půlnoci se jelo do centra na technopárty. Něco jako všechnopárty, jenže bez Šípa a s fetem. Co mě udivilo byl fakt, že jsme byli přímo v centru, kolem nás obytné
budovy, restaurace a tak. To ale nikoho nezajímalo, bedny velký jak vrata od garáže a valily na plnej knedlík. Alexis, dj, majitel dvou občertvení a divoký feťák
(ale to myslím v dobrým, ne že by byl smažka), mi nabídl extázy. Tak oukej, zkusíme jaký to tady v Mexiku maj. No nic extra. Tancujem a pijem, pak narazím na nějakou
známou známejch, která mi dá pusu a nabídne další em, tak to s Murim přijmem a pak už je to docela pohoda.
Občas přijedou policajti, tak je ostraha podmázne a oni daj pokoj. Rozhlížím se po okolí a všichni jedou jak splašený, páruje se to jedna radost, ale já si jedu to
svoje smutný vousatý blues a to mi stačí. V šest ráno začne pršet. To už jsou všichni totálně na sráč a nikoho déšť nezajímá, včetně dj, kterýmu tak zmokne notebook,
a všechno tak jde pomalu do háje. Alexis se začíná probírat ze svého stavu, ve kterém si vymýšlel slova, mlátil zem, až mu krvácely ruce a křičel jak jeskynní muž.

Afterparty u bazénu. Lejem piva a zbytek si dává tripa. Z půl hodiny už jsou jinde a já pomalu střízlivým. V deset se plánuje přesun na ranč, kupujeme dalších asi 50
piv a skládáme je na korbu auta. Muriho a mě už sháněj doma, a tak je čas na návrat. Což je úžasná zpráva. Přijdem domů a nejsme schopný spát až do pozdních
odpoledních hodin.

Tohle byly moje první dva dny na severu Mexika. A zbytek těch dní už nebyl moc jinej.

Eye of the tiger. It's the thrill of the fight.

So I've just walked around the center of San Luis Potosí and I could be writing about the amazing historical buildings, impressive colonial churches and bustling streets with all kinds of shops and street vendors. But I'm not gonna do that. You can google that stuff up and read experiences of other backpackers or whatever.
What cought my eye were the girls. Surprising, I know. Anyway, there are some ravishingly looking women around here but about 90% of them have this bad habit of drawing their own eyebrows.

Okay ladies, I don't know why some of you feel the need to mess up your eyebrows. There is nothing wrong with them being big and bushy for god sakes. Alright, unibrow is something different, but you can always pluck couple of hairs here and there and it's gonna be all good.

But where is the point when you decide "Screw it, I'm gonna fuck my shit up." and you shave it completely, then take centropen or whatever is near by and draw it? How did you even get to that point? Now, there are some pretty good pieces of facial art that copy the normal shape of an eyebrow. I don't like it, I don't see the point of it, but okay do your thing.

Kind of normalish looking eyebrows. Still pretty messed up though.

What makes me angry is that some of these girls must have taken a ruler to help them and create this monstrosity:

What is that? That's not right. That's not how it's supposed to look like at all! There is like almost right angle in there! It's time to put that sharpie away and take a good look in the mirror and do some deep thinking about your life choices at this point.

But that's not all, then there is this "magnificent look" that will bring all the boys to the yard:

What the actual fuck. Are you trying to get the square root of your eyes? It makes you look stupid and evil. To me it just looks like you're contemplating taking over the world with brutal force and dark magic.

And now the final form of this heinous crime against esthetics:

This is serious. Not only you look extremely dumb, but you also single-handedly managed to cut down all your facial expressions to just two. Surprised and scared. (Okay, it doesn't look like it on this picture but I hope you get what I mean.) This is the look of a porn actress when the "plumber/electrician/cable guy" takes off his pants. "Wow I didn't expect to find this down there!" And you also look super evil.
So congratulations now you look like a constantly surprised and scared idiot. But there is one positive thing about this. If you go to a screening of Rocky Horror Picture Show you fit right in.

Your eyebrows don't really matter. Dammit just take Frida Kahlo as an example, she even had a moustache and how many artsy wannabe teen girls adore her? Not saying she was a beauty queen, just putting it there that nobody should care too much about that small space above your eyes.

For the love of god don't shave it and then finger paint new ones with the skill of a kid with special needs.