I remember feeling a bit queasy once or twice as a child when my grandmother would get stuck in stop and go traffic, and my best friend's laissez faire attitude regarding oncoming traffic played a major part in me finding religion when we were in college, but it wasn't until I moved down to Mexico's wang that I discovered the true meaning of carsickness.
|The road to Ensenada. Not pictured: the actual road. via|
SOME of the road to Ensenada, more properly known as Carretera Federal 1, that traces the entire west coast of the Baja peninsula is plenty wide and fast. The rest of it is what would happen if you made a rattlesnake watch Japanese cartoons until it had a seizure and then paved the results.
I follow all the tips and tricks --looking at the horizon, keeping the window open-- yet my insides end up on the outside nearly every damn time. Dramamine only seems to make it worse and I can't drive at the moment because my hands can't properly grasp the wheel.
Do any of you have advice for those of us with delicate insides that don't take kindly to winding coastal highways? Put it in the comments and have my undying gratitude. You might want to stand back a bit, though. You know, just in case.