The bus to Morelia seems as good a place as any to do some writing and to kill some time on a journey that I think is going to take about 5 hours. If I thought the bus from Mexico City’s airport to Cuernevaca was good – this is even better! Fully reclining seats, a coffee machine, toilets that are thoughtfully separated from the rest of the bus with glass panelled doors to eliminate nasty smells (not that the toilets are even nasty – I’ve just been and they are daisy fresh...). It is like flying first class, although it is certainly not expensive by our standards (this journey, which I guess is the equivalent of London to Manchester, only costs about £12). Nor does it seem to be particularly exclusive as I seem to be travelling with pretty much ordinary every-day Mexicans. I needn’t have even bothered to buy a ‘torta’ (filled roll) at the bus station for lunch as, upon boarding, I was given a complimentary sandwich, packet of biscuits and drink. How good is that?! National Express, are you taking note?! We may haughtily look upon Mexico as something of a ‘developing’ country. However, I think there is a lot we could learn from them with regard to certain things – coach travel being one of them (although, er, after Mexico City’s metro, perhaps not public transport in general).
Oh, I’m sad to be leaving Mexico City… Even though it exhausted, infuriated and terrified me, it's a place that gets under your skin (the mean streets of Hackney, the suburbs of Mombassa, even the time I fell asleep on the New York subway and woke up in the Bronx – I don’t think I’ve been anywhere before that has left me quite so on edge as D.F.). I’d definitely like to return some time and, with a glow in my heart, I can honestly say I feel I have some friends here. Giovanni and Jazmin e-mailed me this morning to say farewell, sending me photos of our trip to Xochimilco, and saying that they hoped I’d return some day (Giovanni also wanted to know where I was going next so he could come and see me – um, might have to find a way of tactfully getting myself out of that one!). Then, there’s Ricardo... Travelling along on the bus, I’m wondering what to write in my next e-mail to him (my mobile doesn’t work out here so there’s no phoning or texting and it’s kind of like going back to ‘the old days’). I don’t know whether to let my thoughts return to the time we spent together, or whether to wipe the slate clean and focus on what lies ahead. Sorry, I’m not intending my blog to turn into ‘El Diario De Bridget Jones’ or ‘Sex Y La Ciudad’ but this is what’s currently on my mind! Actually, on the general subject of ‘moving on’, I’m amazed at how far I’ve managed to distance myself mentally from my former life. Of course, family and friends are never far from my thoughts, and I’d be lost without being able to communicate with them by e-mail and Skype. However, I’m surprised that my attachment to pretty much everything else about ‘home’ feels very tenuous now (especially work – God knows what I’ll do when the time to return comes upon me, but I’ll worry about that when I need to). Who knows if I’ll continue to feel this way… I imagine there will be times when I do find myself missing marmite on toast, the sound of British newsreaders’ voices (actually, I haven’t heard the news for weeks now and haven’t a clue what’s going on in the world), and the reassuring feel of putting the key in my own front door. At present, though, those kinds of feelings really aren’t with me.
I took it fairly easy yesterday and had a relatively early night in the hostel (not the best timing as it was ‘salsa night’ in the bar and the building was positively vibrating with the din). I’ve been pretty tired this week, what with everything that has been happening, and the nights at Socorro’s casa in Tepoztlan where I often slept 9 or 10 hours through (with only the occasional interruption of her ‘perro’, or dog, barking and having a late-night ‘perro-party’ with his mates!) now seem far away. I definitely feel I need some rest again if I can find the opportunity.
Before I retired last night, though, I had a final wander to Plaza Garibaldi in Mexico City, where many mariachi bands play at night. It was here that I sat and finally had a pulque. Usually ‘pulquerias’ are fairly ropey no-go areas for women, but my Rough Guide mentioned one that was considered safe and fairly popular with tourists and locals alike. Therefore I decided to go and give the historically sacred cactus-derived drink a try. Thick and kind of slimey, my verdict is that it’s probably not the kind of thing I’d order again, and I did rather feebly opt for the more palatable pink strawberry variety, as opposed to the traditional whitish sap (which I’m afraid to say looked like a glassful of something quite unmentionable!). I don’t think it was too alcoholic (apparently it is between 2 and 4 %) – although maybe I walked back to the hostel feeling a little lighter headed than I had before, who knows? The woman who served me told me that pulque is considered a very medicinal drink, good for the internal organs, and for breastfeeding mothers (so I'll remember that if I ever need to in the future!).
It was certainly a fun little diversion, heading out for that drink last night, anyway, and I got chatting to some Mexican teenage Goths at the table next to mine. One of them had possibly had a bit too much pulque and she practically burst into tears when she heard I came from London as she thought that was ‘the coolest thing ever’! Although it can be a bit overwhelming and bewildering, this whole phenomenon of being treated like a minor celebrity here is quite heart-warming and amusing for me. It will take some getting used to being back home in the UK and just walking down the street or going for a drink without anyone giving a toss. However, maybe, by then, the anonymity will also be quite refreshing – we’ll see…
So, I think I might try and have an afternoon snooze (although it is oppressively hot on this coach and I’m not sure how easy that will be). After checking into my new hostel this evening I’ve been invited to a party laid on by ‘the Couchsurfers of Morelia’ (sounds like some kind of Women’s Institute convention – although I imagine it will be far from it!) and I want to have some energy for that. Honestly, I am so glad I discovered this on-line travelling community, and I would highly recommend it to anyone going abroad who wants to make contact with like-minded local people – either to stay with them, or to just meet up for a drink. It is well established and pretty secure, as you’ll be able to see if you have a look at the site (www.couchsurfing.com). Everyone I’ve met through it so far has made me feel so welcome in the places that I’ve travelled to (in Andalucia, earlier this summer, as well as in Mexico). They’ve all been so very different, interesting and informative – and this is only the beginning! I will have a lot of reciprocating to do when I return to the UK, hosting people or just meeting up with them in London for drinks, and to provide a bit of a friendly welcome (something I don’t think travellers to the UK get as much as we do in places like Mexico). One thing about travelling, which I learned when I went across the States, is that you can often never ‘repay’ kindness to the exact same people who show it to you. However, you can pass it on to others and keep the great karmic wheel turning I suppose. Sorry to end on such a cheesy, clichéd note, but it’s absolutely true!
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