It's been a while since I've put together anything formative in this space, and while most often it is my leinent life that provides stale news, that is so very not the case these days. My writing of late has been a bit drab, so I'll try to pick it up a bit, but be forewarned there is so much I'm going to be talking about.
Headspace
Well I've been here in Mexico for not even 6 days now, and whether it is the heat or the saturation of pleasure, the days drip by slowly. I landed in Puerto Vallarta after flying in from LAX where I was totally overcome with an ignorant and yet undenyable hatred of the States. I'm sure that half of the bleached blondes flitting between chain stores were Canadian, but to my eyes, and without the moral burden of being a foreign guest, every animal in that cage echoed deadened eyes. I was anxious to enter a country of my own choosing, where I could encapsulate myself with the essential humility and respect owing a visitor. I'm not sure what the point of that story was, but I found it interesting at the time the contrast I was given between the normal judgmental mindset common in our own mental backyards, and the fresh optimism radiated from the unknown.
Hasta la victoria Gringo
Puerto Vallarta however, was a flashpoint slap in the face to my own nieve travelling origins. I had always considered my trip across Canada to be a warm-up lap, a chance to experience and survive the challenge of a new life, without the harsh daily realties of being a foreigner. To that end my journey was mainly successful, as I am a little weathered to the basic emotional elements of travelling. There are the somewhat crushing moments of weighty loneliness found in every strange room, or the ever-present jubilation at each unseen sunset and unknown terrace, these feelings are the same for me no matter the place. The real challenges were those which we can foresee, but only overcome with effort and determination. Ignorance, mainly.
Ola, me llamo Stupid
There was a big football game on Sunday afternoon when I arrived, and the money exchanges were all closed early. This meant that I had absolutely no pesos, no language, and no way to get my bus to Guadalajara. The airport terminal was filled with a hawking of wares and soliciting of tourists I had never experienced, leaving me quiet and overwhelmed. I passed by what I thought was a hotel room selling command-center, only to realize in retrospect that it was the visitor information, a mistake that could have saved me quite a lot of stress and money. (And adventure)
It does not take much to strip away one's social armament, and I stood obviously clueless and lost amidst an ever dwindling tourist stream. I grabbed a taxi to the bus station, hoping to find an open exchange, and was promptly hosed on the fare. It was a poor decision to head off without assurity, and when I got to the station I found no exchanges, but more so a complete lack of English. I don't mean for my surprise to sound ethnocentric, I am fully aware I have left my home country, but seeing as the station was just a quick jaunt from the airport, in a major tourist mecca, I thought more of the service staff would be able to help. No luck.
God I look back at that moment and hate myself, my complete and total ignorance. I look back at the fragments of that ignorance that I sorround myself with daily, and hate what I represent, the disrespect. There are a lot of vows made every day that I will never allow myself to be so unprepared as a traveller, although the reality of a trip is that sometimes that may be unavoidable. I guess I'll just have to work my hardest, or once more go through this daily gauntlet of humiliation.
Anyways, intensity aside, I found an amazing cab driver who spoke a little English, and he drove me all around the city for almost an hour on an arthurian quest for an open money exchange. Keep in mind that it was 7:00 pm on a Sunday, and doors were closing as fast as we could find them. One thing happened though that I felt was very peculiar:
It took no more than ten minutes in the company of a seemingly trustworthy person for me to completely forsake all iotas of travelling common sense and wisdom. I managed to commit both of the cardinal sins:
Left my backpack, with everything inside, unattended in the cab several times.
Removed giant wad of cash from pocket in public.
I suppose I was so damn relieved to have someone who was helping me that I just didn't feel like being smart at all, and just needed to put all my faith in humanity to the test. I won't say I was lucky that my driver was an honest man, I don't think that it is a lucky thing to assume people are good and trust them, but it certainly was the dumbest thing I could do. All in all, we found an exchange, and he dropped me off at the bus station, after almost an hour of driving around, for only 200 pesos. I tipped big.
Chapala
Ah, what a beautiful place.
Chapala is a city of about 15,000 located on Lake Chapala, the biggest lake in Mexico, and serves as kind of a hub for all the small towns around it, many of them filled with Canadian and American retirees. Much like visiting a city like San Francisco, the inherrent architecture of the city, and Mexico itself, means that even the dumpiest casa look awesome to me. I mean, come on:The town really changes between the quiet weekday afternoons, and the crush of visitors from Guadalajara on the weekends. I'm spending all my time with Dad and Yvonne, playing volleyball, eating, drinking, and catching sun. I'm very very happy, and finally being able to connect with my father is a beautiful moment in my life. I guess our bonding culminated last night when we got smashed on tequila, broke a wall, smoked cigars and talked until the wee hours of the morning. Then I drunkingly did my sonly duty and dragged his ass up the stairs to bed, before promptly falling asleep on the bathroom floor. Thats what I call a family tradition.
Going horseback riding tomorrow, and then I'll get a Chapala photo album up and going. Lots of postcards going out to all of you, but it's expensive so it's taking a while. I miss everyone, all of you across Canada who have been breaking my heart with so much affection and good wishes. To be honest it is getting very hard to travel, but I'll worry about that later.
Hasta Luego,
Nick
3 comments:
I just want to add some reassurance that people still read your blog (I know at the core you still at least slightly worry about that. Please continue on writing, as I live vicariously through you.
it ain't hot here unless ya compare it ta van or edmonchuck-the kid's a whimp.it only get's up ta about 30 between 3 and 5pm.
my moto having cast iron cylinders would blow up iffen it were hot like he says.
Post a Comment