Three of us were sitting on my best friend’s porch in Denver, Colorado, sharing a meal when my friend Kayla said, “I’ll be driving down the Pan Am soon. Does anyone want to come with me?” In hindsight, it may have been a “courtesy invitation” extended without expecting it to be accepted, but I had been craving a drastic change in my life. I was discontent with city living, was single, and had a remote job with a marketing agency. I didn’t know exactly what the Pan-American Highway was, but I had always been fascinated by Kayla’s worldly spirit and adventures. “I’ll go!” I said.
Two months later, I sold half of my belongings, put the other half in storage, bought a 22-foot motorhome, and moved out of my rental house. The excitement of nesting in my new home on wheels distracted me from the anxiety of doing something I’d never done before.
Something dangerous. I packed as if I were traveling to a planet with no stores. Mexico is classified as a developing economy, but I wasn’t taking any chances with my favorite creature comforts. Professionally, I am a project manager, where planning, organizing, and preparing for the worst-case scenario is my full-time job. I dove into the internet to gather as much information as possible to prepare myself.
I started with social media, reading opinions on personal safety best practices, driving rules, border crossings, common scams, corrupt police, dangerous states, extortion scams—all things tourists “need” to be hypervigilant about when in Mexico. I indulged in horror stories and read I would be targeted as a white, American, solo female traveler. I obsessively ingested the internet’s bad news to the point that I would take offense if someone offered unsolicited advice about the dangers of Mexico. I told myself I wasn’t scared. I was convinced I prepared myself for everything.
Well, almost everything. “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish!” my friends said when I told them I was planning the trip through Central America. I took Spanish classes 20 years ago in high school and college, but I lost it because I didn’t use it. “No hablo español.” I had vacationed in Southeast Asia and didn’t find the language barrier a problem, so I hoped I would pick up Spanish quickly along the way. Plus, Kayla was fluent in Spanish, and we would be together through all the countries. People told me daily: “You are so brave,” and “I could never do that.”
Brave? If you prepare, the risks diminish, right? After all, the US isn’t the safest place to be, considering the gun violence statistics across the country. Mass shootings in the US happen regardless of location, nationality, affiliations, etc. If you compare statistics and types of crimes worldwide, random acts of violence are perhaps the most threatening and leave us feeling the most vulnerable. At least I felt like I had some control over the exposure to danger in Mexico by avoiding the states with the highest violent crime rates. I didn’t know exactly what to fear most, but the message was repeated repeatedly: try to blend in.
It’s worth mentioning that I have the lightest skin tone of any white person I know. I have strawberry blonde hair, oversized blue eyes, and a bubbly disposition that would send any introvert running for the hills. I have two big dogs accompanying me. My motorhome is huge. My style of dress screams American. Blending in would be impossible.
Before Kayla’s invitation, I never wanted to visit Mexico. Biased news, half-truths, and fear-mongering from the US media and federal government fueled paranoia of all things south of the border. Some Americans perceive Mexico as a lawless and dangerous land with gangs, drug violence, and targeted attacks against Americans. I was one of the Americans that believed the entire country was plagued and was convinced I would never visit. Finally, going to Mexico was a big deal.
I left Colorado on October 21st without Kayla because her dog required emergency knee surgery. We planned to meet up once her dog was medically cleared for travel. All my confidence in traveling in Mexico was gone once I learned I wouldn’t have Kayla there to help translate, navigate, and be my safety in numbers. I wasn’t worried about traveling through the Central American countries, and comparatively, I barely researched those countries.
When I arrived in the US border city of Laredo, Texas, on October 29, I procrastinated crossing into Mexico for an entire day. I was so nervous about entering Mexico that I sat at a truck stop trying not to panic and telling myself I could turn around and go back to Colorado or just tour the US instead. I didn’t have to go to Mexico, but it was now or never. I didn’t want the embarrassment of telling everyone back home they were right that Mexico is too scary. I repeatedly asked myself, “Did I prepare enough to do this alone?” I didn’t know, but I filled my mind with all the wonderful experiences I dreamed I would have and walked into the Banjercito with my color-coded binder of border documents.
I crossed into Mexico. The process of entering went exactly as I had expected, and it went smoothly. I made friends with an amiable Mexican woman in the immigration line who was from Mexico City. In the few minutes we had standing in line together, she coached me to be confident in Mexico and to call her when I arrived in Mexico City so she could show me around.
After a couple hours of driving, I had a stressful experience when I didn’t have enough pesos to pay the toll, which caused a big traffic jam. The attendant tried his best to help but couldn’t come up with a solution. Luckily, another motorist paid the toll for me and politely declined my efforts to repay him electronically. My Mexico City friend saw what happened from the other side of the toll, flagged me down to offer me pesos, and instructed me to buy an electronic toll pass at the nearby convenience store. I struggled to activate the toll pass, but the store manager spent an hour helping me, using Google Translate on our smartphones to communicate.
I was relieved that my first human interactions in Mexico were positive. Did I just get lucky? I remained vigilant until I arrived at my hotel for the night. Having chilaquiles for the first time at breakfast the next morning improved my mood significantly.
I continued driving the central route through the country, from Monterrey to San Luis Potosí. I was intimidated to communicate and didn’t talk to another human that I wasn’t buying something from for several days, despite everyone’s friendliness. I quickly learned the road rules: speed limits are suggestions, always expect delays, potholes, speed bumps can be gnarly, signage doesn’t always exist, and there are always obstacles in the road. It was almost like a video game. Dare I say driving in Mexico was…fun?
While waiting patiently to be reunited with Kayla, I passed the time by visiting the destinations on my list and working my online job. I was gaining more confidence by the day. There was a lot of trial and error in the first few weeks! I got a lot of stares in the small towns, and my motorhome got a few battle scars from driving down roads I was unknowingly too wide or tall for. Locals flooded out of their homes to help me with a 20-point turn in a narrow intersection and were quick to move their cars if they obstructed my path. Twice, locals offered to climb onto my roof to raise a low-hanging decoration or sagging cable to allow for clearance. I was the talk of a different small town every week, and everyone I interacted with offered me patience and kindness with no expectation of anything in return. I must have said “muchas gracias” a thousand times. I wished I knew more Spanish so I could better express my appreciation (and apology), but no one treated me poorly because of my small vocabulary. I was having experiences that felt nothing like any vacation I had taken in the past, and I allowed myself to grow in the richness of the culture.
I began to form meaningful friendships with my camp hosts and other travelers. Formal campgrounds are rare in Mexico, so relying on the community is critical to finding good camping locations. I used the website iOverlander, a crowd-sourced global directory of campsites and traveler amenities, to find the right camp spots for my dogs and me.
Every host I stayed with went above and beyond to make sure I had what I needed. They offered a secure place for my dogs to play outside, rides into town for shopping (because there actually are stores in Mexico), provided advice on must-sees, and included me in their family meals. I was invited to swim in their pool, cook in their kitchen, shower in their bathroom, and use their home as if it were mine. “Mi casa es su casa” is not just a saying in Mexico; it’s a practice. I’ve adopted three Mexican fathers who all call me “hija” and have developed lifelong friendships with women my mother’s age. I got an unforgettable Mexico City tour from my border friend. I keep in touch with other travelers via WhatsApp and share photos, favorite places, and location updates via text. I started to wonder if my inability to blend in made me a target for generosity instead of a target for crime.
Kayla and I finally met up in the states of Guanajuato and Puebla, but we quickly discovered that we had different goals. I needed the internet consistently to work five days a week, and she had limited time to get to Costa Rica to meet with her family. The more we talked about the logistics of traveling together, the more obvious it became that our travel needs were incompatible. By mid-December, I called her from the state of Chiapas and told her I would not be joining her in her travels and would spend six months discovering Mexico on my own.
It’s been five months since I left home. I’ve visited at least 12 of the 32 states in Mexico, including Oaxaca, Quintana Roo, Yucatan, Campeche, Tabasco, and Veracruz, to name a few. Each state has something unique to offer. I’ve driven almost 10,000 miles. I’ve gained countless quality friendships, learned more than I ever wanted to about my motorhome, and have had amazing experiences that no paid tour could provide. I’ve never felt alone in my journey. I’ve not been a victim of violent crime, nor have I seen any. As a visitor having a fulfilling experience in Mexico, I am not in the minority. I am one of the thousands that Mexico’s astounding population of 132,565,258 welcomes with open arms.
No one seems to care that my skin is white. I’ve not been preyed upon for being alone. Being American has intrigued locals, prompting innocent questions about my lifestyle or personal accounts of when they visited the US. I’ve been told many times by strangers that my motorhome is beautiful, usually followed by more questions that I don’t know how to answer in Spanish. I am enrolled in an online Spanish language course with Wara-Wara Spanish, so my Spanish-speaking skills are improving! I now see traveling in Mexico as a privilege, not a risk.
Unfortunately, part of American culture is to be fearful of the unknown, when in fact, we are far more likely to experience or witness a criminal act or be a victim in our own country. I try to live my life with a healthy balance of common sense, education, and information whenever traveling abroad or domestically. I hope my story encourages Americans to reconsider any negative opinions of Mexico or its people and inspires the pursuit of life-changing experiences, even if it feels scary.
Kimberly McRae
Kimberly is a dog-obsessed digital nomad, working online as a Veterinary Clinic Director. Kimberly has roots in Denver, CO, but has been traveling in an RV throughout Mexico with her two dogs since October 2022.
Responses
Great stories. We met Kimberly in the Wawa classes. Take care Kim.
Ray and Cathy.
I love traveling solo in Mexico. Regardless of the warnings I get from family and friends. And have never encountered any problems. I’m leaving again in my class C RV in October.
Good for you!! I did the same thing 47 years ago. Drove from Edmonton, Alberta to Mexico in an old VW van . I spent 9 months travelling by myself, sold my van, then took local buses through to Costa Rica. Then local buses or hitched rides back home. In all, 1 1/2 wonderful years.
Single blonde, petite and learning Spanish as I went. It’s as though families adopted me. Their kindness and sharing was amazing. The poorest of families shared meals and their “protection” with me. I had to get very inventive to contribute to their household. I slept several nights at a time in my hammock on beaches or in the jungle at various ruins. That started my love affair with Mexico.
You’re very brave, courageous woman. I loved Mexico before I travelled to it. I loved the culture, the history, Emiliano Zapata, and Diego Rivera. Every visit to Mexico drowned me in more love of the country-more than the visit before it. Don’t miss Diego’s murals, they are the truth of historical Mexico. Go to his museum at Alameda Park in Mexico City, the Aztec Dancer mural is there. The National history museum at the zocalo has the History of Mexico mural, the art museum has the Men at the Cross Roads mural that he renamed Men curators of the Universe, when he redid it at the museum, after the Guggenheim’s destroyed the original in New York, that he named Men at the Cross Roads.
There’s a list of his murals on line if you’re interested in his art.
Keep living the good life, stay safe, eat the best food ever, and enjoy the magic of Mexico.
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