Bienvenidos a Puerto Vallarta

I travelled to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to celebrate the New Year and soak up the Mexican culture for a week. I kind of surprised myself with the trip so I didn’t get a chance to do much planning for it. The only thing I had planned on was to meet up with Joe when I arrived since he had spent Christmas south of Puerto Vallarta in Michoacan. I couldn’t reserve us a room at a hostel so I picked the most common bar I found online to meet at, Bar Amsterdam. We would hang out for a couple of days and then I would take a bus back halfway and spend a few days before making the final assent to Tucson. I calculated the bus ride would take about 24 hours so I thought it would be nice to break it up a little. As you can see, there wasn’t much of an outline for me to follow for the trip. Here is how it went:

After spending a two hour layover in both St. Louis and Dallas/Ft. Worth, I was glad to finally arrive in Puerto Vallarta at 9:30pm on New Year’s Eve. The airport was surprisingly empty. I grabbed my bags, dodged the taxi driver’s that wanted $22 to take me 5 miles into downtown, and waited at the bus stop. As I was waiting, I noticed that every person that was on my plane had arranged to be picked up by a shuttle service to go to their resort. Nobody followed me to the bus stop. I asked a girl that was sitting next to me which bus would take me downtown. She said it would be there in 5 minutes. A few minutes later a bus drove by and a Mexican guy grabbed me and took off running after the bus. He stopped the bus and told me it was the one I wanted. I found a seat at the back of the bus and decided to try to find out where Bar Amsterdam was located. The kid next to me didn’t speak any English and had never heard of Bar Amsterdam. An older man tried helping me and acted like he knew where it was but he really didn’t. The bus was beginning to empty so I felt I needed to get off soon. I noticed two young, attractive Mexican girls looking at me and giggling as they shuffled toward the back of the bus near me. I thought for sure they would help me. They had never heard of the bar either but they knew the street it was located on. The bus came to the last stop and they motioned for me to leave with them. All of the streets and sidewalks of the downtown area were filled with people. People were walking by with cans of beer in their hands, smiling and laughing. It looked like a great time. The girls told me to just come with them but I had imagined that Joe was already at the bar waiting for me. They stopped a taxi for me and told the driver where I needed to go. I started to get in the taxi and looked back to see the girls weren’t coming with me. I asked if they were going to go to the bar with me and they gave me a look like, “We are not going to that bar.” I gave them hugs and was on my way.

The driver took off slowly down the road weaving around people. He turned around to me and said, “Are you gay?” I answered very confused, “What? No.” He informed me that Bar Amsterdam was a gay bar. I sat back and thought of how angry Joe must have been when he finally found the bar and realized it was a gay bar. It then occurred to me why the girls didn’t want to come with me. I said to the driver, “Oh, so those girls thought I was gay?” He responded, “Yep.” The driver stopped the car and pointed up the street and told me that was where I needed to go. I paid him and walked to where I pointed to only to realize it wasn’t the street I was looking for. I walked around to different hotels asking if they had a vacancy and if they knew where Bar Amsterdam was. None were helpful with either question. As I was walking, a fight broke out 20 yards in front of me. A visibly drunk Mexican with his shirt off seemed to be harassing another guy’s girl. The guy proceeded to send a couple nice punches to the drunk’s face. I hurriedly crossed the street to ensure that I wouldn’t get tangled in the affair. As I walked, it then occurred to me that I am a reasonably attractive guy and I’m sure any gay guy would love to help me out. I began to seek out the clubs that hailed rainbow flags. The second club I came to was the winner. The guy not only spoke perfect English, but he told me that Bar Amsterdam has changed names 3 times and is now called Mesa 67 and told me the exact corner it was located on. I followed his instructions and found the bar! It was exactly 11:00pm, the time I had told Joe I would meet him. The bar wasn’t very crowded and I did not find Joe there. I decided that he probably couldn’t find the bar. I left the bar and found an internet café so I could check my email to see if Joe had sent me a message. I had no new messages and it was beginning to get late. I needed to find a place to stay. I was told of a couple places to check out around the café but they were all booked. I realized there were not going to be any vacant hotels for me. I walked around hoping that some nice older couple would see me walking aimlessly with my bags and offer to take me in for the night. This, of course, did not happen. I did manage to get a hotel manager to let me keep my bags behind his counter for a couple of hours so I could enjoy the New Year’s celebration before cuddling up inside a gutter for the night.

I walked in the direction away from the area I had spent the past hour walking around. I walked until I could hear fireworks and saw they were coming from just in front of me. I came to a large walkway next to the ocean with people and bars surrounding the area. I immersed myself into the crowd and watched the fireworks display. I have felt for a while that fireworks are such a primordial source of entertainment. It takes more to amuse me than a bunch of brightly colored flames and loud noises. I will admit that the fireworks succeeded in entertaining me and they even felt necessary for the occasion.

The fireworks stopped after the last ones that were sent up began falling on people in the crowd. People were running away, some screaming in terror and others laughing hysterically. Well, maybe they weren’t screaming in terror, but people looked a little concerned. There was a stage set up with a band that started playing music. The crowd made room so people could dance. I love Mexican dancing. I am a terrible dancer but I could do that and I think I would like it too. I walked around for an hour or two watching the people and the band. It was now 2am and I was exhausted after my day of travelling. It was also 4am for me since I had travelled from Ohio. Naturally, I got lost trying to find the hotel I left my bags at. I came upon a free standing, wooden bridge that crossed a river. It wasn’t the way I needed to go but I couldn’t pass up crossing it. All of the drunken people trying to cross it were jumping up and down on the bridge, falling over, and laughing. It looked great. I crossed the bridge and lost my balance from all the people jumping on it. I was sober and even I couldn’t cross the thing! I wandered around for about 20 minutes before I got my bearings back and found the hotel. I knew that it was a stretch to get the hotel manager to let me sleep in the lobby but I was confident I could talk him into it. There was no way I was going to sleep outside with all the drunken people screaming and bothering me while I try to sleep. I made myself appear as pathetic and helpless as I could to the manager. He resisted at first and then agreed to let me stay. I took out 100 pesos to thank him for his generosity. He put his hands up to stop me and refused to take the money. As soon as I placed the money on the counter, he quickly lowered his hands and consented to accepting the gift.

There was a computer in the lobby that I used for a little while before taking a seat at the table and laying my head in my arms to sleep. I heard somebody snoring and thought the manager was sleeping at his post. I looked up to see him playing solitaire on his computer and his son curled up in a sleeping bag beneath him snoring away. It was nice to not be the only one sleeping in that lobby. I woke up every hour during the night either to people entering the hotel or to change sleeping positions. My sleeping options were limited. I could either sit up in the chair with my legs propped on another chair or I could lay my head on my arms on the table. This sleeping arrangement would leave my back aching for several days.

At 7am the manager woke me up and told me it was time. I forgot that in persuading him the previous night, I told him I would leave at 7am. I picked up my bags and walked to the nice area by the ocean where I had watched the fireworks. I wondered what happened to Joe. Did he make it to Puerto Vallarta? I decided he probably stayed at the town he was in because he seemed disappointed in the last email I received from him when I told him I couldn’t book a room at the hostel. I sat on a rock in the early morning and watched felt the sun rise behind me as I looked out into the ocean. It felt great to be able to enjoy this beautiful, peaceful morning after the gigantic party that had taken place only a few hours prior. I noticed a large object moving in the water just out of range to view clearly. I locked my eyes on the object as it moved north, parallel to the land. I determined what it was when I saw a surge of water shoot out of the object. It was a small whale moving through the water. What a way to begin the New Year.

Meeting up with Joe

I spent the morning trying to find a decent hotel for a good price. I settled on a place that had a great view from the roof for 400 pesos. I still had not heard from Joe so I sent him an email and told him I found a hotel but failed to mention the name or location of it. When I checked my email later that day, Joe had said to give him the name of the hotel or meet him at Señor Frog’s at 7pm. He also mentioned that he found the bar we were supposed to meet at the previous night and was there at 11:15pm. He said that he had a crazy night and ended up staying with a family at their house south of the city. His story is hilarious and completely insane. I wish he would write a blog for it but I'm sure he doesn't have the time. Anyway, I ended up missing him at the bar so I headed back to the hotel to find him waiting for me in the room. He said he just asked the cleaning lady to let him in and she did. We had a beer together and told each other our stories from the previous night.

We walked toward the most populated, or touristy, part of town to find a place to have a drink. The American bars looked like a Spring Break for 40-year-olds trying to relive their college days. We decided on a bar that had a balcony overlooking the water. They had 2 for 1 Coronas so we knew we couldn’t go wrong. We talked, drank some beers, and ate popcorn. The table behind us was filled with about 10 Americans being loud and obnoxious. The table next to us was where all the action was. There were 2 cute, very young Mexican girls sitting at a table with 2 men in their 40’s. Joe had his back to the table so he couldn’t see that the girls kept looking at us. I ignored it until it became too obvious. Every couple of minutes they would turn around and stare right in my eyes. I told Joe what was going on and we began to try to figure out the relationship between these young girls and the men. Since they had no shame in showing their interest in us we automatically assumed they were prostitutes. One of the men was always touching the girls and rubbing their legs. We figured out that they were businessmen and he had done this before. His buddy was a little timid so his friend knew the only way that he could get him to hook up with the prostitute was to get him drunk. They drank beer after beer after beer at that table. The girls didn’t seem to be drinking too much and would disappear to the bathroom for extended periods of time. This must have meant the old guys were giving them drugs, maybe cocaine to take in the bathroom. The guys became drunker and the girls kept their eyes on us. There were no smiles, just the look of determination. Maybe they were trying to add us to the list for the night. On one occasion Joe left for the bathroom and one of the girls followed immediately after him. I thought for sure something had happened. He said he didn’t even notice the girl but that there was a bunch of cocaine going around in the bathroom. I asked if one of the guy’s at the table was in on it and Joe said that the guy came in and saw it but was totally shocked by the scene. This didn’t make sense with our hypothesis. As the night progressed, we were both ready to go. However, I confessed that I couldn’t leave until we found out the truth of what was going on with this odd double date. By now, the two men were drunk and holding each other. They were crying and rubbing their heads together while calling each other “brother.” They were acting like classic drunks except for the rubbing of the heads and crying. The girls attention had now shifted to us. It appeared the guys had found their love for each other and the girls were moving on to us. Just then, a blonde girl with a fake tan from the American table came over to us with a bucket full of Pacifico beers. She said her table couldn’t drink the beers so she wanted to sell them to us. I thought it was a little absurd for her to try to sell us the beers rather than just give them away. We didn’t have as much as she was asking so she asked for whatever we had. We gave her some change which amounted to maybe 20 pesos. She told us she was from Chicago and was 25 years old. This is where I lost track of the conversation because I was busy trying to understand how she was only 25. Her face was worn and her hair was very dry and damaged like it had been dyed too much. She looked more like she was 25 going on 35. So there’s a message for you fake tanners and hair dyers. There’s a high price to pay for looking tan and blonde in January. The seemingly old lady left and realized that I didn’t want to drink any more beers. The Mexican girls had their eyes locked on my so I motioned for them to take a beer or two. This began the conversation. Joe started in with the Spanish and I was too far away to hear what was going on. At this time, another girl from the American table came over to give us our change back. She said that we could just have the beers and didn’t need to pay for them. She had a very nasal voice and used the word “like” too much. She too was very tan but looked more like she was 25 than the other girl…so maybe she was really 16. I listened to her life story and then caught the last part of Joe’s conversation with the Mexican girls as they were leaving. Suddenly, the younger looking one looked very innocent and not so much like a prostitute. Both girls hugged and kissed Joe and then ran over and hugged and kissed me before leaving with the men. Joe looked at me and confessed that our theory was a little off. The man that couldn’t keep his hands off the girls was their father and the shy one was their uncle. They hadn’t seen their uncle in a couple of years so they decided to go out and celebrate. They had lost a friend recently, which was why the men were crying and rubbing their heads together. It was all just an innocent family outing. Joe and I left the bar and walked back toward the hotel. As we were walking, we looked inside one of the bars to see the Americans we had just met dancing with balloons tied around their heads. They tried to get us to come in and join them but it just didn’t seem like it would be worth it for us.

Sayulita & San Blas

Joe and I took a bus to Sayulita the following day. Sayulita is a small coastal town that was very crowded with tourists when we went. They beach was covered in people so we walked down until we found a trail that went into the jungle. We took a barefoot hike through the jungle until we came out at another beach that was deserted except for a couple of families. We spent the afternoon there, went back to town to have dinner, and took the bus back to Puerto Vallarta.

The next day Joe was flying back to Tucson so he wrote me out an itinerary to follow when I arrived in the small fishing village of San Blas. I also borrowed his Lonely Planet travel book to better navigate the area. This turned out to be an essential tool. I took a city bus to the bus terminal where I had to wait 3 hours for a bus to San Blas. The lady had to tell me the same thing about 3 times before I understood her. She hated me. The bus ride to San Blas was incredible. We rode through the jungle and every once in a while we would come out to a high point where to the right, you could see over the jungle and small farm houses for miles and to the left, you could see the ocean. I watched the sun set over the ocean just before the bus reached San Blas. I followed Joe’s recommendation to a cheap hotel to stay at and paid for a room for 200 pesos. I relaxed and watched Discovery Channel in Spanish for about an hour and then took a walk to explore the town. I walked through the main plaza which was more crowded than I would have expected. The plaza is right next to the bus station and is surrounded by restaurants and taco stands. I walked to the harbor and then made a loop back into town. I finished off the walk at the San Blas Social Club. Joe highly recommended that I visit this bar. It was very small and had a relaxed atmosphere. It was partially crowded and the people at the bar were engulfed in a conversation when I sat down so they didn’t take much notice of me at first. I hung out and drank a beer. As I was deciding if I would have another beer or leave, they guy next to me at the bar struck up a conversation with me. He was from San Diego and had just visited Tucson recently. It is strange to be in the middle of nowhere and meet someone that lives near you and knows your city. But that’s how it goes with travelers. When I was in Alaska, an older couple from Canada or someplace not only knew all about Tucson but also knew the exact small town that my friend, Barbara, is from in Switzerland. Anyway, Kyle told me he had hitch hiked with some friends down the Baja coast and took a ferry across the gulf of California before travelling up to San Blas. He confirmed part of Joe’s itinerary and said that I should go on the boat ride in La Tovara while I was in San Blas. After a while his friends took off and he followed. It was about 11pm and the bar was not almost empty. I took this as a hint to go back to my hotel so I could get up early and go to La Tovara.

I woke up early and after several failed attempts of finding some guy named Abraham to take me to La Tovara as Kyle had said to do, I just followed the Lonely Planet book and took a bus to Matanchen. I got off the bus right in front of the boat ride office. The workers tried charging me 300 pesos so I asked 2 older Canadian couples if I could join their boat and pay just 100 pesos. I lucked out and our guide spoke perfect English. He was a newcomer to the bird watching field and absolutely loved the trip he was taking us on. 2 young Dutch guys from Amsterdam joined our team and we were on our way. The boat ride was fantastic. It was exactly what I would think it is like to go for a boat ride in the Everglades, minus the boat with the big fan propelling it. We saw crocodiles, turtles, iguanas, and many different types of birds. We ended the ride at a Cocodrilario (crocodile hatchery). This is the largest crocodile hatchery in Mexico. They are working to restore the crocodile population that was once in Mexico before the crocodiles were hunted for their leather. It was neat to see the baby crocodiles and the enormous 60-year-old ones they had. Crocodiles don’t do much. They just sit there in the sun with their mouths open and stare. I was more interested in a stray katamundi that was wondering around. Our guide said he has seen the katamundi here before and suspects it may be a pet or something. The other katamundis they had were in large cages. They also had a few deer in cages. The one that was lose was walking around sniffing the dirt like an anteater, eating insects. It kept walking in between my legs and showed that it wasn’t afraid of humans. It was a young animal and had a fluffy tail. I held off touching it as long as I could but I knew I had to do it. I mean, look at the picture. Look at that fluffy tail! I bent down and pet it’s surprisingly coarse fur. It immediately stood up on two feet and started hissing and clawing at me. I jumped back as the katamundi attacked. The Canadians and Dutch people from the boat thought this was hysterical. We boarded the boat and our guide passed out beers and sodas to everyone for the ride back.

I was curious to find out what everyone else from the boat was going to do next in San Blas. The Canadians were staying outside of San Blas so they had rented a shuttle for the day and were heading on seeing the old Spanish fort in San Blas. The Dutch guys were planning to go to a small beach called Playa de los Cocos to spend the day and night. I shared at taxi back with the Dutch guys and told them I had planned to go to that beach sometime as well. They invited me along and told me to bring my bags because they planned to spend the night. We bought our bus tickets for the beach and split up to check out of our hotels. I got my bags and stopped at restaurant to get a burrito for the bus ride. I made it to the bus station just when the bus was supposed to leave. I boarded the bus and saw the Dutch guys were not there yet. Just before the bus departed, they showed up. Their names were Manno and Rueben and they were 18 and 19 years old. They had both spent a few weeks in Guadalajara studying Spanish before heading to Puerto Vallarta where they met at a hostel. Surprisingly, they did not know each other prior to coming to Mexico. It also turned out that they stayed at the hostel that I wanted to stay at when I was in Puerto Vallarta. I was unable to make reservations online and the hostel never returned my emails. I called to find out if there were rooms available but the number did not work. From this, I concluded that the hostel was no longer there, just as Bar Amsterdam no longer existed. They Dutch guys even told me there was plenty of room at the hostel on New Year’s Eve. You can imagine my frustration.

We checked into a cheap hotel directly on the beach for 100 pesos each. There were only two beds so the owner brought a mattress and sheet. We ended up drawing cards for the beds. Of course, I drew the lowest card and had to sleep on the mattress. We had a drink at a restaurant overlooking the beach and then walked down to the beach. They brought a soccer ball with them and as soon as we reached the beach, 3 young Mexican teenagers ran up and asked us to play 3 on 3. We played for a while and an audience of children and young Mexican teenagers gathered on the sidelines to cheer on the white boys. My foot began hurting more and more as we played. Eventually, I stopped to look at it and noticed it was gushing blood. We called time and the teenage girls came running to my aide. I sat on the beach as they scrubbed the open would on my foot with a lime. It hurt like hell and I made it seem worse than it was because the girls got a kick out of it. I had to leave the game so I went for a swim in the ocean. The water was surprisingly warm. It wasn’t cold it all. I looked at my foot and saw that a callus on the bottom of my foot had torn.

We ate dinner at one of the best Mexican restaurants I have ever eaten at. It was a small place on the beach connected to a family’s house. All of the food was prepared by the mother and grandmother. We had hand breaded fish with rice, beans, and tortillas. We talked to an old Canadian that went on and on. He had visited this area 10 years ago and came back to see if any of his old friends were still there. I will remind you that we were on a small beach with just few hotels around, nothing else. He was a strange fellow. We bought beers at the only place that sold beers in the town. They beer distributor ran his operation out of his bedroom/kitchen/store. It was one room that performed all of these functions simultaneously. We played cards under the ramada on the beach at our hotel. The old Canadian happened to be there so he joined in too. I had told the Dutch guys about the popular American drinking game, Asshole, and they just had to play. Rueben liked the idea that he could become president and really soaked it up when he was the president, saluting those lower in rank to him and all. Manno left to go to sleep after a while, which left Reuben, the old Canadian, and me. At one point the old Canadian was going on about how all that he believed in was all around him. He pointed to the trees, the ocean, the birds, etc. He then flicked his cigarette into the ocean. I was quick to call him out on this hypocrisy. He looked down sullenly and pleaded that he was drunk.

The next morning I awoke before the Dutch guys so I walked out to the ramada to take in the scenery. They wanted to stay another night at the beach, but there was still more for me to see in San Blas. I woke the guys up and said goodbye. I ate breakfast at that excellent family restaurant where the lady told me that I did not look American. She said that my complexion and clothes were not fitting of an American. I told her I was of Irish decent but I didn’t know how to say “Ireland” in Spanish. She would name a country and I would say if it was north, east, south, or west but she didn’t realize there was a country in between Iceland and Britain. I flagged a bus down that was headed to San Blas. It just so happened that the old Canadian was on the same bus. I went back to the same hotel I had stayed in and even got my same room back. I left my bags in the room and walked through a large outdoor market that was a big attraction every Saturday. I eventually made it to the harbor where I took a boat across the water to an island called Isla del Rey. The island was like Jurassic Park. There were reptiles everywhere! I saw huge iguanas all over the place, little lizards, and I think I even spotted a snake. I hiked around the island and lay on the beach for a while. When I wanted to return, I walked to the beach I had been dropped off at and waved to the guy across the water for him to come get me. I couldn’t imagine spending 10 pesos any better.

Next, I hiked up to the highest point in San Blas to an old Spanish fort known as El Fuerte. Unfortunately a fog had rolled in from the water so I didn’t get to see much of a view. Go figure, the only time it was cloudy the whole trip was when I decided to check out a good view. I thought about heading to the bus station that night and starting my way back to Tucson early but I had already booked my room so I decided to stay. In retrospect, I wish I would have left then.

The Arduous Journey Home

I decided to start my travel day off slowly. I lay around and watched television for an hour or two before having breakfast. Oh, I forgot to mention that there was soft-core porn on a majority of the channels the night before. Is it normal for Mexican children to be exposed to that so easily? Maybe most of them don’t have cable. Yeah, probably not. The bus to Tepic left every hour so I figured I would take the 10:00am bus and get to Tepic just before noon. I was sure there would be a bus going to Tucson around noon. The plan seemed to work out well. There was no bus that went directly to Tucson so I booked a ticket to Nogales (on the border of Arizona) at 1:30pm. I checked my bags behind a cashier and went out side to stock up on food from the fruit stands for the trip. I arrived back at the bus station just after 1 to see that my bus had arrived. I got my bags and began to board the bus. I got midway up the stairs when I heard the driver yelling at me from outside to get off the bus. I thought that he must be cleaning the bus and I boarding it too early. I also noticed a Mexican woman with her 4 children and bags waiting to board the bus. Just before 1:30pm, the driver boarded the bus. I stood up and picked up my bags as the driver backed up the bus and took off. A Mexican woman ran up beside me screaming and cursing the driver but he didn’t stop. This woman and the one with the children got a hold of a manager and went nuts. The screamed, pleaded, and pointed to me and explained my story for me. They made a few references to me so they must have thought that an American getting screwed would make a good point in their case. The manager led us to his office along with another fat Mexican who kept silent as I did while the women went to work. There was a lot of fast talking so I really had no idea what was happening. It ended up that I was to be put on a bus headed for Tijuana that left at 2:30pm. As I was waiting outside, the Mexican lady with all the children began talking to me. She spoke as much English as I spoke Spanish so we were able to somewhat communicate. She told me she had a beautiful daughter that was 20 and liked Gringos. She was quick to add that Americans weren’t for her. She insisted that she get my email address for her daughter. She also pointed out that her daughter was a bitch in every sense of the word. A few examples of how stubborn her daughter is left me no better word to use. She also added that her daughter doesn’t like to bath. I couldn’t believe it. This was exactly what I was looking for: a girl who lives 1,500 miles away, doesn’t speak English, is very bitchy, and doesn’t bath. As I was planning my wedding date, the bus arrived.

I sat next to the fat Mexican that missed the last bus and was heading to Nogales as I was. He mumbled and didn’t put much effort into trying to understand my Spanish so we had a lot of one word conversations. It’s only fair that I would get the only broken seat on the bus as well. The seat didn’t recline so I prepared myself for 24 hours of sitting straight up. Just as we started to leave, all of the Mexican woman’s children were screaming and yelling at me and pointing out the window. I looked out and there was the Mexican woman with her daughter. The whole bus erupted and everyone was cheering and making me wave and blow kisses to my future wife. My darling was standing out there with her arms crossed and a very moody look on her face. She was exactly as her mother had described and was in no mood for the public humiliation she was forced to endure. It was great.

The bus played a wide range of movies. They ranged from old Mexican classics to new movies like Bewitched in English with Spanish subtitles. I even got to watch the hitcher, which was one of the worst movies I have ever seen. It’s right up there with Cellular. The bus stopped every hour or two and I would get out and stretch my legs and eat a taco or two. I noticed that I was being watched at each stop. There was this Mexican teenage girl that had her eye on me. The fat Mexican had brought my confidence with the Spanish language down by saying he couldn’t understand me so I didn’t humor the girl and talk to her. I could only ignore her for so long. She eventually came over and spoke decent English. She was the only one on the bus that could speak any English. She was kind of an awkward girl but it was nice to talk to her. She seemed a little crazy. She was talking to her mom after one of our conversations so I ducked into a restaurant to grab napkins for the road. As I was gathering the napkins I watched out of the corner of my eye as she jumped into the doorway to see where I went and then jumped back to her mother to continue her conversation. She would tap me on the shoulder or something every time she got on or off the bus. The people around me took notice of all this. At one point, I was looking in my Spanish dictionary to find how to ask her a question and the fat Mexican held the book up and everyone applauded my effort with her. On several occasions after she would walk by he would put his hands up to trace her ass and say, “muy grande.” I would elbow him in the side and say, “te gusto.” He loved it. I tried to tell him she was only 15 but he didn’t seem to care. I also had a crew of Mexican children that would hang around me. They would always walk by and smile and one little guy would offer me cookies. Mexican children are so great. And this is how the bus ride went for the next 20 hours.

We finally got to a place where I was forced to leave the bus. I hoped we were at Nogales but I wasn’t so lucky. My 15-year-old girlfriend told me that I had to get on another bus for Nogales. She put her hand out to shake mine and I gave her a hug instead. I let the fat Mexican take care of all the details for arranging our new bus. We were on the previous bus for 25 hours! The trip should have only taken 21 or 22 hours but the driver thought it was necessary to talk his face off everything the bus stopped. The fat Mexican liked to say, “Habla grande.”

The new bus was terrific because my seat actually reclined! The ride was only 1.5 hours so there wasn’t much bonding with the patrons of this bus. When we got to Nogales I shook fatty’s hand and said goodbye. I found that there were no buses to Tucson but I would have to take a shuttle instead. This option had never occurred to me because I thought it was expensive. I had no other options so I paid a taxi 70 pesos to take me about 2 miles to the border. A little pricey for Mexico, but I didn’t know what else to do. I walked across the border and a man walked me to the shuttle place. The shuttle was just $10 and left in 15 minutes. If only the rest of the trip home could have been that smooth! Paul, my neighbor, had locked himself out of his side of the house so he was very happy to pick me up where the shuttle dropped me off. I made it home at 9pm, which makes the total duration of my trip home a consecutive 35 hours. I took a shower and collapsed into my sweet, comfortable bed. The next morning I woke up with a paralyzing cold and was not able to move for 2 days. Ah, Mexico…