Friday, October 21, 2005

To leave Mexcaltitan we had to go through the same procedure in reverse: collectivo lancha to La Batanga, combi to Santiago Ixcuintla. But we were old pros by then and everything went really smoothly. The combi dropped us off in front of the bus station at Santiago and we bought tickets and jumped right onto a second class bus to Tepic, the state capital. The second class bus was similar to a first class bus, except filthy. The gum thing, that I thought was just for hotels? Busses too. The little plastic cubby in the back of each seat was full of chewed gum. Which makes sense, because people want to sleep on long bus rides.

In Tepic we bought tickets to Guadalajara and had just enough time to run across the street to the Pollo Feliz for lunch. This is a fast-food place, (we went to one in Guaymas too) but there is table service, which trips me out. The food is really good though, as good as a regular restaurant.

Our bus to Guadalajara was also second-class. We settled down for the three hour ride. I was reading Queen which I picked up at that book exchange in Mazatlan and which let me tell you is not even half as good as Roots. The road was good and the scenery was pretty. We were heading away from the coast and into the highlands, so there were a lot of craggy hills and winding roads. I drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly there was a huge bang. I was shocked upright in my seat. The people in the back of the bus began running forward and I started to panic. The bus rolled to a stop. Nothing else bad seemed to be happening. Michael and I were like, ...wha? The driver got off the bus, was gone for a moment, and then got back on. The other passengers moved to seats as close to the front of the bus as possible and we started off again. The driver did not make an announcement but some word was passed around and everyone seemed satisfied. Michael and I assumed it was a flat tire because when we started moving again we crept along and there was a fla-bump... fla-bump... fla-bump sound accompanying us. We looked at each other. "Is he going to just drive like this all the way to Guadalajara?"

We went on like that for about twenty minutes. Nothing was happening other than the sound, so I went back to my book, and back to wondering why someone would be interested in creating such minutely detailed accounts of his own grandmother's sex life. Then the bus stopped at the side of the road. Everyone collected their things and got off the bus, so Michael and I did the same even though we had absolutely no idea what was going on. When we got out, we realized that everyone was getting onto another bus that was parked in front of us. So we followed our usual procedure - Michael handles stowing and collecting our mochilas and I go on ahead and scout us out some seats.

The new bus was from another company and it was first class. It was clean and the air conditioning was on high and there was no gum to be seen, and far fewer corncobs on the floor. It was not even half full of passengers and there was plenty of room for all us new people. That was that. The old bus broke down, the bus companies cooperated and coordinated and and we got a new one. What a non-story. Not that I wanted anyone to get hurt, but I'm a writer and "we had to switch busses and were delayed by, like, half an hour" doesn't sell. "Stranded on the road for hours and peed on by a goat" might have gotten me into Jen Leo's next book.

The first thing I noticed when our bus pulled into a gas station on the outskirts of Guadalajara was a young guy wearing a hoodie. He was wandering around outside the bus and I was kind of absentmindedly watching him, only because his cap and hoodie both supported US sports teams. I can't tell you now which ones because sports are boring and because suddenly I realized the important thing about the situation: the hoodie itself. And the fact that no one loves a team enough to wear a heavy sweatshirt in the kind of heat and humidity we have been experiencing. So... could it be? The bus was freezing I knew that much, but could Guadalajara be the breath of fresh air I have been waiting for?

It was over an hour before we found out, because Guadalajara has a lot of outskirts. But when we finally climbed off the bus I was not smacked in the face with a sheet of hot, wet air. Oh, wow. I love this place already. We found our way to the centro on a city bus, and this took another hour even though we had miraculously chosen the correct bus. Guadalajara is huge. It's also very modern and the centro area has kind of a European feel - which is not so surprising since it was built by the people who brought us Spain.

We checked into our hotel and it was the nicest we've had yet. Until I investigated the closets and drawers as I always do, and in the bedside table where you'd expect to find a Bible, we found... porn. "Pornonovelas," almost like little comic books, but with photographs of actual people engaging in acts which I won't discuss at this time. Just like a comic book, there was narrative along the sides of the panels and and little dialogue bubbles coming out of the characters' mouths. ("Eso disfrutalalo Papacito." "Mugffg!") I'm not a prude (I looked at them, didn't I?), but I prefer to meet stuff like that on my own terms, you know? But what truly disturbed me was what kind of a hotel supplies porn? I freaked out a little, but Michael finally convinced me (more or less) that it was probably left behind by some previous guest. Still. What kind of a hotel maid doesn't remove the leftover porn from the rooms?

HOURS IN A LANCHA: .50

HOURS IN A COMBI: 1.5

HOURS ON THE BUS: 58

 

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Bus to Tepic - gum in front of Michael's seat.

Bus to Tepic - gum in front of my seat.

Placed by the Gideons.