After the oasis of Benjamin Hill we headed southward again through the monotony of more Sonoran desert. A Crested Caracara watches us from a high post at the edge of the thornscrub. The landscape is not quite as cactused as it was before; now there are more mesquites mixed in with other unidentifiable trees. Before we know it (Well...all right...I dozed off.) we are in Hermosillo. Emtering through a broad valley , I see haphazard looking houses pitched halfway up the barish mountains.

Finally, we leave the bus and get on a local bus to the centro. These buses are very short affairs. The names of the different routes are scrawled on the windshields with white paint that looks like shaving cream. The windows are often cracked and the seats remind me of a carnival ride I experienced when I was a kid. They vibrated and shook so much that I almost lost my newly acquired pesos and whatzits before I had time to decipher them. (How many times my wife and I embarrassed ourselves in front of vendors by gawking at our chump change, trying to figure out what we had!) Before we arrived at the hotel, we bumped around a bit downtown. My wife bumped into a metal pole that, for no apparent reason, stuck out from a side of a building. I bumped into a metal bar at a urinal that was exactly where my head should have been.

Lesson for all travellers (especially tall ones like me): Expect the unexpected!
There are "gringo traps" everywhere! Bonker bars. Inexplicable holes on busy sidewalks. Constantly varying levels of pavements. Don't look at the beautiful scenery! You will need all your wits to navigate the deadly infrastrucure. (OK, I'm exaggerating...somewhat.)

Next : Hotel Niza: A touch of class (sort of).

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