All the elements for a pleasant here-and-now experience were in place. The morning sun was warm, the pack was light, and the stomach was digesting hot coffee and some steamy tortillas. The day was moving, and though he was still standing still, he felt the rhythms of life running through him.
Forgetting for a moment all the useful techniques he had discovered about hitch-hiking, he chose to stand with little promotion, or encouraging influence. He just wasn’t worried about it one way or the other. Not many times in our daily life, much less while traveling, are we uninterested in trying to influence our needs upon those around us. Think about it for a minute.
Yet with that in mind, he stood noticing that the people on the outer edge of this Mexican town each would address him visually in order to explain and excuse themselves for only driving to work at the other end of town. Or they were migrants headed out to a local field and still felt the need to acknowledge him on the side of the road. Not just a few trucks passing, but all of them. Every one reacted in the same way. The sense of humanity is palpable in the third world.
He, and his brother, would park themselves in, or close to shade, and within walking distance to a cantina. No sense getting stuck out in the hinterland. He always had a book, but never opened it. Often had headphones and music, but never listened. Often they gave themselves a time limit, but always waited it out, content to just be there.
And then, when the pickup truck would stop, there was little conversation. The only destination or even direction understood was straight ahead. They would just climb in, hunker down, and enjoy the scene, as it appeared, one mile at a time.
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