My father and I were going down to Mexico for a weekend just for fun. We lived in Arizona at the time and it was only a few hours to Puerto Penasco (rocky pt.). We got there and stayed at a terrible hotel where there was human feces in the water- no joke. We ate at a cruddy restaurant and when we went to drive away the car wouldn’t start. This isn’t too unusual, because in hot places car batteries just die out without warning, but we were in Mexico and we didn’t speak Spanish! Luckily the manager of the restaurant we ate at knew English and showed us a place where they charged us a lot of money for our battery.
Yet, through all of this, I would go back to Mexico again. I must be crazy.