Mexico

The check in line for our flight to Mexico was the first time I felt abnormal. Everyone was Mexican. They spoke Spanish. And the blonde next to me was the only one I could see in our terminal. No joke. American security is insane. They made us take our shoes and jackets off, we were photographed and fingerprinted. We were asked where we were going and why, who we were staying with and how we knew them. I felt like I was back at Monte.



I sat next to an old Spanish guy who had half his ear missing. He liked to show me many times how his watch worked. As we were taking off in our tiny plane he made the sign of the cross and kissed his rosary beads. I gave us a 25% chance of dying. A few days ago at LAX airport (where we were) a small plane nose dived and caught on fire. I chose not to tell tully this. We’re trying to save the Xanax for the 15hr bus ride through Mexico.
I was slightly worried about going to Mexico city because every person I’ve spoken to has looked at me like im insane. This didn’t help when we were landing and the little lady next to me said in broken Spanish ‘be….careful’. She managed to tell me the only safe way to get a cab is to book one at an office, only the yellow and white ones. Im really glad she said this because stepping out of the terminal we were bombarded by 50 different men with slicked hair trying to get us to go with their cabs. Our giant backpacks attracted them like flies. We managed to organize to be taken to a hotel for the night and set off at the speed of light, no seatbelts and apparently no lanes. We were slightly shitting ourselves but laughing at the same time: well I was anyway:
there goes my full stop again:
Our hotel looked like a seventies porn set and someone had decorated the inside with white street lamps, broken mirrors, clusters of black leather chairs and tinsel. No one around spoken English and so it took us about 15mins to get a room, and they ripped us off. Actually now I think about it they probably did speak English. They just knew they’d get more money this way.
We dropped our bags off and went to the ‘restaurant’ downstairs. We were given straight chilli puree as an entrée and told it wasn’t too hot. It was. We semi ran down to the corner to get supplies from a convenience store.. it cost about $8 aus for a bag of food and a 6yr old Mexican boy scooped it all up and put it in a bag for us. He was running around the place like the manager of a restaurant. So funny.
I switched the TV on and found an English station. I was so happy I nearly wee{d my pants. Tully tried to sharpen the reception and pulled the cord out. No more TV. And live wires. Apparently they weren’t paying for the electricity. Some fat man came and fixed it for us and we watched The Pursuit of Happiness with the audio of a Spanish music channel.
The lock on our door was the same of that on a toilet cubicle, so I decided to put a coffee table up against it for extra security. So at least if we were about to be murdered we’d hear about it first.



We were up at the crack of dawn with the hope of getting on a bus to Puerto which we’d planned to do last night. We had an assortment of curries, wedges, chilli and grey eggs to chose from for breakfast, so after enjoying that amazing meal we organized another cab to a bus station we’d looked up on the internet. Finally we get here and are again the only backpackers around. We visit a bunch of terminals trying to find a bus that will take us 15hrs over the mountains to the coast and get told that the bus doesn’t leave until 7:45pm. It’s about 9:30am. Which leaves us with a bit of time to kill and lot of small shops to get food poisoning from. There’s a stall selling posters. The one out the from is of a Mexican teen in the 80s with his hair slicked back. Underneath in running writing is says ‘nigger’. I think ill go there..