From Guadalajara to Guzman
- Posted Aug. 22, 2008 by Daniel Froburg Viewed 451 times
So the story of me coming to Mexico is a good typical Mexico story.
First, my connection in Houston was delayed twice due to weather, and so it made me nervous that I would miss the guy who was sent to pick me out outside the gate upon my arrival. So I get off the plane and I wait for about an hour looking for him, then I finally decide I'm tired, and I want to just go somewhere where I can lie down. So, I get a taxi. The first driver wants 1000 pesos to get to the center of the city. That's $100, so that wasn't happening. I then found a reputable taxi that brought me to a 4-star hotel, which was totally unnecessary. There was a Howard Johnston down the street, but this fancy hotel had internet access, so that sealed the deal.
So I go in and ask for a small room for one night, and they say OK. Then I get to my room, and its got two full sized beds, and a huge shower and bathroom, and cable television. I watched what appeared to be the Olympic power walker from Mexico finish gloriously in 67th place or such. Anyways, there is also a man with a guitar belting out old Mexican love songs till midnight. The bellhop barely stood 5'5" and he had quite the challenge with my suitcase, but we bonded. I told him why I was in Mexico and he told be that he tried to learn English but it was too hard. I said I can understand, its a tough language, and I told him about Spain, and told him that Mexicans are 1000 times more polite, and he seemed to like that.
I woke the next morning three minutes before my alarm (as usually happens, but only when I set an alarm) at 7:27am. I took a shower and went out exploring for an ATM. Along the way I saw numerous governmental office buildings with guards toting M-16's and asked one. He did not understand me. I asked another and he gave me the most vague directions I have ever received for anything, so I just walked around until I found one.
I got another taxi because I needed to get to the bus station. Once there, I ordered a ticket without trouble, although it was a bit confusing because Guzman is the only city you can pick in the area that is not the end of its line from the bus (so I had to take one to Colima to get to Guzman).
The bus arrived late, and I got aboard to find that someone had taken my seat. I took another and readied my camera. About that time the television flickered, came to life, and brought to me, for my viewing pleasure, Braveheart, in Spanish.
So, I took most of these pictures while Spanish Mel Gibson slaughtered the English in the name of freedom.
I arrived in Guzman to no pick-up again. Thus I needed another taxi to get to the house I live in, but I as of yet do not know the address, so instead I go to the school where I work.
They were very surprised to see me, alive, and in the right place. So I met a few co-workers and got a ride to my place. Its a typical dwelling, one floor out of a two floor building, and is pretty much 20 feet wide by 200 feet long. It takes me a good 20 seconds to walk from my bedroom to the living room. I should be lean by october.
So, that brings the story up to the present time, where I just returned home from tacos out on the town, and made my first visit to the convenience store.
Exciting stuff, this Mexico.
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