Mexico is not producing any of its own COVID-19 vaccines. In order to inoculate the more than 128 million people that call the republic home, the government is purchasing doses of the Sputnik V vaccine produced by Russia, as well as the Chinese vaccine 漢 かんじ 字 (which loosely translates from Mandarin to “injection of rice milk”). And of course, like the dismissive neighbor that it is, the US is shipping south all of the AstraZeneca vaccines that its populace has rejected. What this means for Mexico is that as of April 15, 2021, less than 5% of the population has been vaccinated, as compared to the US where more than one quarter of the population has been jabbed.
In the state of Guanajuato, which is where San Miguel de Allende is located, which is where we live, things are considered “yellow” under the federal stoplight system. Under yellow, all work activities are permitted and public spaces are open on a regular basis (with reduced capacity if you are an enclosed space - like a public restroom, where seating is limited to one per stall). Additionally, basic prevention measures of frequent handwashing, wearing masks in public, social distancing, chewing with your mouth closed, and not sharing marijuana pipes continue to be recommended.
Since January, rumors in San Miguel have swirled like mini dust tornadoes that vaccinations are coming. At that time, it was predicted that my age group (50 and over) would be vaccinated in May. There was no timeline for my teenage children - which was further distressing because we can’t wait to get them out of the house on a regular basis. Finally, about a month ago, the “60 and over” age group in San Miguel received its first dose of the vaccine. Because all of the vaccination sites were near the city center - convenient for the gringo population but too distant for many of the eligible Mexicans who live in the villages that surround the city - we hired a taxi service to transport about 15 persons from a village where R has some contacts so those persons could assume their place in line. As of today, however, the official word on when the 2nd dose will be available for these people is “maybe in a few weeks”. Based on how slowly things are progressing, it seemed unlikely that my age group would be lined up and shot in May.
With that in mind, R decided to take things into her own hands. Beginning in late March, she began a daily regimen of monitoring websites at US pharmacies such as Walgreens, CVS, HEB, and Walmart, as well as at health clinics and state run vaccination centers using sites such as https://vaccinefinder.org/ and https://www.vaccinespotter.org/. In particular, she was laser-focused on places in the states of Texas and California, as both states will stick anyone aged 16 and over and many counties require no proof of state residency. Finally, working closely with herself, she hatched two plans:
Plan A - Drive 10 hours to Laredo, Texas, passing through the Mexican border town of Nuevo Laredo, where reports of increased gang activity proliferate. Get our vaccination shot. Run the gauntlet in reverse.
Plan B - Fly to Tijuana for $70 round-trip and rent a nice AirBnB on the beach for $40 a night. Leisurely walk across the Mexico-US border on the Cross Border Xpress (CBX) footbridge, rent a car for $20 a day to drive to San Diego to get our shots and toss back a few cold ones with my friend, Jim. Return to our beach side villa and relax for a day or two before flying back to San Miguel.
Because the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines each require two shots, R was zeroed in on getting the one-shot Johnson & Johnson (J&J) vaccine so we would only have to make a single US trip. That brought her to this site providing info on vaccine inventory by location and type https://tdem.maps.arcgis.com/apps/webappviewer/index.html?id=3700a84845c5470cb0dc3ddace5c376b which she monitored incessantly for six days before finding appointments for herself, me, and our daughter, Coconut, to get the J&J shot in Laredo. So much for Plan B.
Here’s an account of the salient points in our journey:
Sunday, 5:00 a.m. - Roll out of bed after a restless night of sleep and pile into our Honda Fit for the short drive across town to meet friends with whom we plan to caravan and who are surprised that we arrived at their house at the agreed upon time.
6:14 a.m. - Leave San Miguel.
9:58 a.m. - First bathroom break. We are all trying to stay hydrated as a preventive measure to counteract the worst after-effects of the vaccination shot. This could turn our 10-hour drive into a 12-hour drive.
11:28 a.m. - Cross from Guanajuato state into Nuevo Leon. Since all of Northern Mexico is desert-like, Nuevo Leon doesn’t look much different from Guanajuato.
We saw a lot these on the drive - but they aren’t great landmarks.
3:19 p.m. - Third and final bathroom break before the border at Nuevo Laredo-Laredo. We have heard that one of the games the Nuevo Laredo gangs will play is to have two pick-ups or SUVs box-in cars, force them to pull over, and then shake the occupants down for cash, all the cargo in the vehicle, or worse, drive off with the car leaving the owner shoeless by the side of the road. To prevent this from happening to us, we agree with the other driver in our caravan to stay close enough so that no one can cut us off from each other.
3:36 p.m. - We are forced to the side of the road in Nuevo Laredo by an SUV with flashing police lights in the windshield. A guy dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt approaches our driver side window and asks to see my license. R, sitting in the passenger seat, asks if he is official police and asks for his credentials. He mumbles that he is and pulls a lanyard out of his shirt pocket, which, I suppose, is meant to prove his authenticity, sort of like a real police officer would have a badge. However, we notice he is careful to keep his fingers over the picture as he flashes it at us and replaces the ID in his pocket before we get a good look at it. R asks again if he is official police, to which he mumbles something, to which R responds that he is not real police. She tells me to drive away, which I do. As I drive away, I watch in the rear view as the guy gets in the SUV and pulls a U-turn. As my heart settles back to its normal cadence, I reflect on who has bigger balls - the guy who pulled us over, or R. I decide that R wins.
Waiting at the border to get into the US
4:08 p.m. - Arrive on Puente Internacional II, the bridge that will take us over the Rio Grande River to the US.
4:10 p.m. - While sitting on the bridge waiting for our turn with US Customs, we get a text message from our AirBnB host that the apartment we reserved has plumbing issues, but that we will be upgraded to the more expensive, two-bedroom apartment. The upshot of this is that I won’t have to sleep on the couch.
4:23 p.m. - Breeze through US Customs (despite carrying illegal fruit and vegetable contraband) into the streets of Laredo. Its washed out and deteriorating facade reminds us all of a slightly more upscale version of Mexico - the most apparent difference being that parking lots are paved rather than dirt.
7:09 p.m. - When in Texas . . . order Texas BBQ for takeout.
9:15 p.m. - Lights out.
11:13 p.m. - Move from the master bedroom to the living room couch because the bed is too soft.
Monday, 9:10 a.m. - Vaccination Day! Our Walgreen’s appointments are for 9:15 but we are told to arrive 15 minutes early. With nothing else to do, we wander the aisles and notice that Easter candy has been marked down 50%. R can’t choose between the Starburst or SweetTart jellybeans so grabs a bag of each.
9:35 a.m. - R is the first to get her shot. Tears of happiness flow. The vaccination record states that she has received the Janssen vaccine, but we figure that’s close enough to J&J so we all file in, in turn, to get stabbed. It doesn’t hurt, and no one else cried.
The new part of my permanent immunization record - my COVID-19 vaccination record card
10:02 a.m. - After we have all been vaccinated, we are told to hang around the store for 30 minutes in case we have an allergic reaction. As a reward for choosing to get our shot at Walgreens, we are each handed a coupon for $5 off any purchase. Since there are three of us, that’s $15 worth of free stuff. With nothing to do, we wander the aisles stocking up on the essentials - Cinnamon Toast Crunch Churros, deodorant, and Revlon eyeliner. Seventy-six dollars later, we are free to go.
Texas gun show
11:00 a.m. - Back at the apartment in time for my Spanish-language lesson on Zoom.
12:32 p.m. - My Spanish having been marginally improved, we head to Texas Thrift to do some discount clothes shopping.
2:19 p.m. - Worn out by trying on 89 skirts and dresses, and feeling slightly achy from the vaccine, Coconut asks to be taken back to the apartment. R and I however, still have credit available on our cards. We head to the HEB supermarket.
3:32 p.m. - One-hundred and seventy nine dollars later, we load the Honda trunk with our haul and text our caravan friends to see if they have room in their trunk to carry our luggage back to San Miguel.
4:21 p.m. - Back in the apartment, R begins to feel achy and I realize that we bought too much food for dinner - a lemon-garlic rotisserie chicken, four crab cakes, eight ounces of seaweed salad, a sushi roll, and a roll of Pillsbury buttermilk biscuits. I eat half the chicken and divide the rest into two bowls which I set on the ground outside for the dumpster cats.
6:12 p.m. - R and I make one final trip out; to Walmart for a basil plant, socks, and two pair of shorts for our son, J, who we left behind in San Miguel because he was too young for the shot. This reminds me to text J to make sure he fed the dog.
7:10 p.m. - Crab cake dinner with sushi appetizer. Biscuits on the side.
8:00 p.m. - Both R and Coconut are in bed. I curl up on the couch with a book about John Adams.
9:18 p.m. - Coconut moaning from the bathroom, complaining of a headache and aches. With R in bed, I realize I need to be the responsible parent. I offer an aspirin, a glass of water, and a wet washcloth. All gratefully accepted.
10:00 p.m. - I stretch out on the couch and fall asleep.
Tuesday, 12:15 a.m. - Wake in a clammy sweat with an achy head. Not the first time that’s ever happened. I decide it could be side effects of the vaccine or concern for the well-being of my family, change positions on the couch, and fall back asleep.
6:00 a.m. - Wake to the news that administration of the J&J vaccine has been suspended by the CDC to research what is causing blood clotting in a small percentage of people. Since I can stand and walk to the bathroom, I figure I’m alright. Check in on Coconut and R and both are ready to go.
6:03 a.m. - Receive text from our caravan partners that one is feeling feverish and wants to hang around another day. We all go back to bed.
9:13 a.m. - Receive text from our caravan partners that they are both feeling much better and are ready to head back to San Miguel. I consider that they may just have wanted to hang out in bed together a bit longer. I don’t fault them for it.
10:00 a.m. - Hit the road!
10:13 a.m. - Cruise through Nuevo Laredo unmolested.
10:14 a.m. - 8:29 p.m. - Look out the car window at a lot of desert. Wonder why it was that the guy who had been through the desert on a horse with no name couldn’t think of a name for his horse. Seems to me he had a lot of time to do nothing BUT think. Strikes me as intellectual laziness.
9:13 p.m. - Finally, in my own bed in San Miguel. Lights out!
