A few months ago I took a holiday with a friend who I have traveled on a zillion trips with over the years. This time we settled on Cancun, Mexico for a 2 week R&R.
We loaded up on pesos and boarded a jet. Nine hours later we were stomping on the fine sandy beaches, soaking up the hot-hot sun and taking in the sight of beautiful blue water.
A few days into this R&R trip we peeled ourselves off of the beach chairs and ventured out on a city bus to leave the safe haven of the resort. We bounced down the road and got to the open air market. It was great fun being summoned by the shop owners. They were yelling things at us as we would leave one store and attempt to decide which store to go to next. Things like……“It’s my turn!” and “We have everything you need.” “Senor! Come here- We have great price!” and so on. (Mexican markets in tourist cities of Mexico are THE place to go if you want to increase your self esteem.) They were doling our compliments to us and nearly begging us to come in and look at their wares. These things are good for the ego and mental health of those who tend to lack self-worth. I highly recommend it.
After a few hours of this we stomped back to the bus stop, had our 7 pesos for bus fare and were headed back to the resort. Or so we thought. Bus # R-2 makes the loop to our hotel and we were on it. All was well. Yet, as we passed resort after resort nothing looked familiar. I wrote it off as being in an unfamiliar city. Twenty minutes into the ride I realize that we are going in the wrong direction. We leave the perceived safety of the resort zone and head in to downtown Cancun. (Honking galore! – The Mexicans are horn happy.) My friend and I look at each other and burst out laughing as we both come to the conclusion that we are headed for an adventure all the while assuring ourselves that this R-2 bus will eventually swing back around and dump us off at the Westin where our luggage was. It isn’t five minutes later when we seem to be leaving downtown and are now on dirt roads. It is now well after 10:00 p.m. What’s more? We are the only two Gringos on the bus and my friend leans over to me and says, “Hey, I have ALL of my pesos in my purse. How safe do you think we are?”
I look at her and wrinkle my brow and ask, “How many pesos do you have in there? She whispers, “6,000”. Not the best with math I do some quick accounting and realize she is toting around over $500 USD. Now I know why she is concerned. No time to think as the bus comes to a stop in front of an abandoned house and a peddler cart with some type of carcass roasting on a stick. There are several locals having a bottle of Coke outside of the abandoned house and six other buses parked out front with nobody on them. My friend quickly dubs the abandoned house “The Bus Depot”. –
It isn’t until now that the driver looks back at us and speaks something in Spanish, the likes of which neither my friend nor I can figure out. So, we nod. He motions us to come forward and escorts us off the bus. He doesn’t speak English. We don’t speak Spanish and we are now outside of the abandoned house/Bus Depot with the peddler, the locals and my friend’s 6,000 pesos in her purse.
So, here we are standing on the dirt street eye-balling the spinning dead carcass on a stick that is sizzling and of course all of the locals are staring at the two Gringos. We wonder who will make the first move. Will someone ask us to help them? Is it customary to offer some pesos for some directions to an R-2 bus that will take us back to the resort? What does one do at 10:45 on a Wednesday night on the side streets of Cancun with a purse full of Pesos and no sense of direction and no ability to communicate in the native tongue? – Well, I tell you what we do. We smile….a LOT, and we watch the bus driver talk to the locals at the carcass roasting stand. We see the locals look at him and look over at us repeatedly. We wonder what he is saying. All the while I am wondering if we will be the two tourists that are made an example by the drug cartel. I keep an eye out for machetes as they seem to be the weapon of choice for the beheadings I read about in the newspaper just before our trip. - ALl the while I have this mental thought pattern I can't help but acknoweldge that I have racist tendancies. What else could I honestly call my fear of safety on this side dirt road in Mexico? - Racism. But, no time to get self reflective and make promises to change my ways because another R-2 bus wheels up to the abandoned house/Bus Depot.
Was it karma or an act of intervention by God? I can’t say for sure, but either would have been just fine by me. It doesn’t park, but instead opens its doors and we hop on- Drop another 7 pesos into the fare chamber and stumble to the first two open seats. We don’t know where this R-2 goes, but we have high hopes it will take us back to our suitcases…..and it does.
No comments:
Post a Comment