Saturday, November 12, 2005

We ended up waiting one more day before leaving Mexico City. I had a feeling we would. There were just so many errands to take care of first. And we're lazy, as you may know. But today we got up at the crack of ten and were at the bus station, TAPO this time, which serves points east, by 1:00. We bought a ticket for a first-class bus leaving at 2:00 pm.

ADO bus lines was the fanciest bus system we have ever come across, here or anywhere else. There was a whole separate computerized bag check area with a sign advising us to check bags an hour and five minutes before the bus is scheduled to depart. We checked our bags five minutes before, and hoped for the best. Then we went back across the bus station so we could go through the metal detector and the hand-luggage inspection and board the bus.

So far we've had assigned seats on every bus we've taken in Mexico, but we just sat wherever we wanted and never had a problem. Half the time someone was in our seat anyway. This was the first time we've ever sat down and then had someone else pause in the aisle in front of us and look at us mournfully until we got up and moved.

The bus had seatbelts. And there was a ten minute animated video about a guy named Juan who fell asleep on the bus and had a dream in which the empty seat next to him opened its giant mouth and explained to him exactly why he should use his seatbelt. Then the bus in the movie had to screech to a halt to avoid some fallen rocks in the road and all the seats jammed together. Juan was nearly killed. Luckily he woke up safe and sound and fastened his seatbelt like a good passajero. The movie was so compelling that I actually buckled mine too.

When Juan started talking about how courteous all the bus company employees are, I lost interest. After a few minutes I unbuckled my seat belt again because it was uncomfortable and who wears a seatbelt on a bus? The movie was followed by The Princess Diaries 2 dubbed into Spanish. I can't say that the language barrier made the movie harder to follow.

There were two little girls sitting behind us. At first when they started chanting "Oaxaca, Jalisco! Oaxaca, Jalisco! Oaxaca, Jalisco!" it was cute. And when they started in with, "Uno, dos, TRES! Quatro Cinco SEIS! Siete, Ocho, Nueve, DIEZ!" I figured it was good practice. But after a while... well, at least they weren't seat kickers. But we sure were glad to see Oaxaca in appear in the windshield.

Oaxaca seemed safe enough and we had no fear about wandering around in the dark with our packs. After the first place we tried was either closed or closed down, we checked into the Posada Margarita. Our room is like a cell. But not a jail cell, which would be bad. More like a monk's cell. Sin bano. The tiny ceiling is arched and made of brick which gives it character. And when you're trying to keep expenses down, character is the best you can hope for from a room. It was clean enough, but we felt we were paying too much and resolved to go out in the morning and find a better and cheaper place.

Our room is in a little add-on structure on the roof. Just after we checked in, as we were standing in the hallway between our rooms and the bano, there was a horrible explosion. Terrified, we ducked and as we instinctively glanced out onto the roof, we saw fireworks exploding in the sky. Oh, ok, fireworks. That's good. It seemed like they were just above us. We went to the doorway to watch, and it was gorgeous at such close range, but we didn't dare step outside because we were afraid some firework droppings would fall on us. It didn't last too long, but it was nice.

Then came the next installment of Why Can't I Go To The Bathroom In Peace? I got locked in. All three of the rooms in that addition as well as the mens' and womens' rooms have metal door with sliding bolts. When I went into the bathroom, I slid the bolt all the way in. And why shouldn't I? Well because then I couldn't get out. After some fruitless struggling, Michael had to go back down to the desk. ("Senor, mi novia... is trapped... in the bano...") It was all very ignominious, but he smacked the bolt and got me out without trouble.

We found a spot for a late dinner. I wasn't too hungry and just ordered a limonada and a bowl of sopa de ajo (garlic soup). The waiter wanted to know if I wanted ice, and while I was considering it, he assured me that the ice was ok. "Muchas touristas tienen miedo de hielo," he said. (Many tourists are afraid of ice. ) Well, I wasn't thinking that ice means illness, I was thinking that ice means less lemonade, but I didn't want to say so, so i just said ice would be fine.

Then he wanted to know if I wanted egg in my soup. For a fleeting second I was afraid the egg would be raw. I don't know why I thought that. But I said yes, because I assumed that if an egg was on offer, there must not be too much in the soup to begin with. My soup arrived with a raw, unbroken egg yolk floating in it. I don't know the correct thing to do, but my solution was to eat around it until all the soup was gone - it was delicious, by the way - and then break the yolk and sop it up with a roll, which worked out great. I wasn't wild about the egg, but the garlic soup was so good I'm mad at myself for not trying it before now.

That night we realized in full the folly of those metal doors. Really of the acoustics of the place in general. It's magical, in a bad way. Our neighbors came home and brushed their teeth. We heard every bristle scraping over every tooth, and every scrap of disloged plaque hitting the sink. We heard every drop of water gurgling down the drain. We heard everything that went on in the bathrooms. We heard their shoes hit the floor. We heard them breathing. But most of all, we heard the scraping of the padlock coming out of the metal door latch and the bolt sliding in and out and the door slamming open and shut, every single time someone got up to use the bathroom in the night. They were not bad people. They weren't inconsiderate. It was just the incredible, unbelievable acoustics of that little rooftop shed.

As for Oaxaca itself, it remains to be seen what we'll think of it. But I can say with authority that garlic soup is delicious and our room is very noisy.

HOURS ON THE BUS: 71.5

 

Post a comment:

Name:
Email:
URL:
A cow says:
Comment: (HTML is allowed)