When I first told everyone that I was going to Mexico a couple months back everyone seemed to have the same reaction. “Oh sure, your going to Mexico. How long? The whole summer? OK Justin, whatever you say. Some took me more seriously than others but my mom must have thought it was a complete lie because when I told here a month ago that I had just booked the flight she almost had a panic attack. She tried to hide it but I was tipped off by the million nervous questions and those unsettling silences that occur when she tries to remain calm. I felt bad but I wasn’t going to let that hold me back so I assured my Mom that everything was going to go smoothly and three weeks later I was on my way. Unfortunately, my promise to my mother was a bit of a lie. Traveling never goes smoothly, not with me at least. Don’t get me wrong, I (so far) have not run into any real trouble but as I made my way down I realized just what I was getting myself into.
I consider my self a fairly seasoned backpacker but I’m facing a lot of firsts on this trip. Primarily this is the first time I’m traveling on my own. I always said I’d travel by myself one day and never really thought it would be a problem however it didn’t take long to learn just how tough this is; more on that later. Secondly, I’m in a foreign country. I mean a REALLY foreign country. This isn’t Western Europe and it certainly is not friendly old Ireland. It isn’t even like Eastern Europe we’re things are a bit more backwards. Things just aren’t as easy for travelers as they are in Europe. Take bus travel for instance. The buses are nice, better than back home in fact; however they go fairly slow and it seems there are no direct routes to anywhere. East to west, north to south, whatever your route happens to be your sure to stop in Mexico City. Also, to make things worse, the connecting bus your catching in the city probably left an hour ago since your bus arrived two hours late! They don’t call it the land of mañana for nothing. Finally there is the language barrier. Now don’t get me wrong, this was my whole reason for coming down however there is something so frustrating when no one understands a word you’re saying. My experience in Europe was that everyone minus the very old understood a little English and were able to help if needed. For the trip down, it was Espanol and only Espanol. Luckily most of the trip down required little speaking at all. For the most part my trek consisted of sitting in one place for hours on end watching horrible and often inappropriately violent American movies in Spanish. Luckily things began to look up once in Mexico city. Turns out I could buy my ticket to Oaxaca in the station I arrived in. I butchered the correct way of asking for a ticket but the kind, patient lady helped me out and informed me that I was to leave in two hours. I then got a well-deserved celebratory coffee and slumped back into the nearest chair. At this moment I knew everything was going to be all right.
I have to be honest; I was a little worried going down. Some of the towns I went through were pretty rough looking and I just wasn’t mentally prepared for it. It usually takes me a day or two to finally go into travel mode and being thrust into a new country; alone no less, was quite a shock. I’m ashamed to say it now but I was actually wondering how long I’d last! Luckily I stayed the course and before I knew it I was taking my final bus ride. Once again I had to sit through eye-gougingly bad American movies; however at least this time I had some good scenery to enjoy. The road to Oaxaca is an excursion of its own. Most people probably envision the interior or Mexico to be dust, desert and tumble-weeds however Mexico is in fact largely mountainous. Yes, somewhat arid, particularly during winter (the dry season) but as my bus winded its way up and down through the mountains I was surprised to see fairly green valleys and cacti studded peaks. It was unlike anything I have ever seen. Imagine the Rockies only more rugged, more scraggily rocks and spiny trees. It was great. Unfortunately, in my delirium I took very little pictures and I’m now kicking my self in the butt for it, guess I’ll have to take a day trip back.
By the time the bus pulled into the city the sun had set and I was more than ready to pass out. I dragged myself over to the nearest taxi and took the 35 peso ride ($3.50 USD) to my hostel: Don Pablo’s. After being showed to my room I unpacked and half heartily said hello to my sole roommate, a girl from Holland named Lizzette. Before going to bed I had one last adventure to encounter. For better or worse most hostels seem to have the most bizarre shower setups. I now know to never expect hot water, water pressure and in some cases any water at all. Despite my experience in bad hostel showers Don Pablo’s managed to throw even me a curve ball. Let me take this last paragraph to explain. Many traditional Mexican buildings have four walls surrounding an open courtyard; this allows for maximum light and ventilation for what is often the main sitting, eating, and play area. In the case of Don Pablo’s it was the main dining area. There were tables with umbrellas set up and backpackers are always hanging out and telling stories, or eating dinner and drinking cervesa. This is great in concept but when the rooms are situated on the eastern and western walls and the bathroom facilities are on the southern walls things get a bit tricky! Let me also take this time to mention that the lone shower being shared by all of us not paying for a private room is as they say in Mexico, muy pequeño. Meaning way too small to bring myself, soap, towel and clothes in without much difficulty and definitely not big enough to get changed in! When I first walked in I immediately walked back to my room and tried to formulate how best to do this. I walked back to the shower, stood in it for a couple seconds, even began to undress but immediately realized that this was not going to work; I had only one option. So there I was, newly arrived, covered in two days worth of stench and grime and I had to go through the courtroom in nothing but my towel. I’m not that shy and normally I wouldn’t think twice about this but theirs something about taking that walk of shame past people eating tacos and busy hostel employees …outside no less, that leaves you feeling completely exposed! The last person I passed before getting to the shower was my Dutch roommate. Did I mention that she was cute? Well she was, very cute in fact and I can’t say for sure but I was probably blushing and no doubt affirmed her belief that all Americans are shamefully modest.
So there you have it, several long bus-rides, two or three moments of doubt and one small blow to the reputation of American backpackers; not a bad trip I think!
Hasta Quizá,
Justin
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