Saturday

Satuday was such a Mexican day. I had plans to meet Alma “sometime” in the town where she works “somewhere”. By 12:00, when Irma and I had just finished eating breakfast, I still hadn’t heard from Alma. Finally, a text came. It was a list of words for me to memorize and tell the bus driver:
-Lasser = 10 pesos
-Jojutla
-Xoxocotla
-Tequesquitengo
-taxi = 20 pesos (don’t let them cheat you!)
-Centro de Paracaidismo, por favor.
-300 metros después del hotel Vista Hermosa

Irma told me where to find the Lasser bus and off I went. On the bus, I looked around for a sympathetic looking passenger to help me know where to get off. Irma told me it would be about 40 minutes down the road. The lady across the aisle from me looked surprised when I asked her to tell me when we got to Xoxocotla. “Do you want to get off at the libramiento, the centro, or the terminal?” For heaven’s sake, I didn’t know. She said she’d try to help, and then promptly fell asleep. An hour later, we were still rattling down the highway. I was beginning to wonder if we had long since passed my stop when, as if woken by some internal clock, the lady barked, “Guera, this is where you get off!” The bus came to a slow, hissing stop, only to immediately start rolling again without opening the doors. Those of us who had stood up to get off suddenly found ourselves hurled into each other in the aisle. The lady shrugged her shoulders and said, “Well, you can get off wherever we stop next.” Bueno.

At the next stop, there was nothing in sight except a little white building with taxis parked around it. Six or eight men sat, rocked back on their heels, not looking particularly interested in taking any of us to our final destinations. They would, however, be willing to take the “guera” for 40 pesos. I think not.
“Can I get there walking?”
“No.”
“Well, then you’ll have to take me for 30 pesos.”
“OK.”

Off we went to who knows where. He dropped me at a gate and there I stood, wondering what to do next. There was a boy sitting at the gate and I asked him if he knew Alma. That’s like walking up to someone on a college campus and asking where you might find Lindsay. Thankfully, he knew an Alma and she was the same one I was looking for. He pointed up the street with his lips, like all Latin Americans do. Alma works for a skydiving company, so I spent the rest of the afternoon watching group after group be trained, suited up, take off, and fall back to earth. It looks amazing, but I’m still not tempted to spend $250 on a potentially life-threatening event. No gracias. Alma got off work at 6:00 and we met up with another friend, Isabel, to go driving around the lake. We parked the car and walked and walked, finally finding ourselves at a hillside bar where they let me try my first…well, I don’t remember what it was called, but I didn’t like it. And I don’t know it they make micheladas in the States, but beer is bad enough by itself without adding chile, don’t you think?

Then, we went into town to find ice cream, or snow as they call it here. After you’ve eaten ice cream in Mexico, you’ll never be satisfied with American ice cream. It is 100% natural. Flavors like eggnog, coconut, nut (with little nut pieces), every fruit imaginable, for just $1.20. Absolutely delicious!

Unfortunately, we were so much enjoying the ice cream that we lost track of time and I missed my bus back to Cuernavaca. We drove like mad to the next city where it would pass in 20 minutes, but missed that one as well. Fortunately, the 10:30 Pullman bus was just pulling out and I jumped on just in time. Back in Cuernavaca, Irma and I stayed up ‘til the madrugada (early morning) drinking tea and talking about… everything. And so another perfect Mexican day came to an end. : )