"There's a man here looking for you"...

...Is the text I got from my Air BnB host today. Oh. Fuhhhhk...

This is my face 24/7 when I
walk around foreign countries.

8/28, 8:30p

I land in Mexico City after fourteen hours of airports and planes. I feel weird. What’s the elevation here? I have no idea, but that’s the first question that makes me regret doing ZERO research on Mexico City. 

Usually I’d have a Lonely Planet or Rick Steve’s Guide that I can use to research every question I can think of. Obviously, I’m clutching my smart phone, but I’m also plagued by a compulsive frugality that is so insidious, I’ll drive twenty minutes out of my way to save a dollar on gas at Costco. So if you think I’m gonna rack up roaming fees to look up Mexican trivia, think again. 

Immigration is fast and easy. Getting my luggage is fast and easy. The airport? Harrumph. 

If I HAD BOUGHT A TRAVEL GUIDE, I’d have studied my transpo options and the airport layout. When Meg, my smart & beautiful roommate, visited CDMX a few months ago she said she got an Uber from the airport. Being also smart & beautiful, I figured I’d do the same. 

But how? Where?? 

"If you want to live a happy life, tie
it to a goal, not to people or things."
~Albert Einstein

Fortyish years ago, I was born and raised so close to the Mexican border that I’d go with my dad to Mexico to fill his truck with diesel because it was cheaper than the US. (See? The seeds of pathology are planted early.) The Mexican side of my family raised me, and my grandma spoke no English so Spanish was my first language. Immerse me in a Spanish environment and after two weeks, I dream in Spanish. (I swear! It happened in Costa Rica!)

I was NOT prepared for how lost I felt in the airport. It’s a damn airport, not my subconscious, and there are pictures that indicate taxi, arrivals, departures... but what does the ride share picture look like? 

I don’t know because I don’t ask because people scare me because... anxiety, I guess? When I was little, it was called being painfully shy. Now I get to diagnose myself with a touch of mental illness so I don’t flog myself for being afraid to ask a stranger for help. 

I just walk. I catch a sign for the Metro. If I can’t figure out the ride share thing on my own by the time I get to the metro station, at least I ultimately have a ride. 

I LOVE subways. I can always reliably solve a subway system - even without my cell phone - and this one is no exception. Thirty minutes later I heave my way up the metro stairs, My Buddy’s 35 pounds making this into a CrossFit exercise, and enter La Condesa, my neighborhood. 

GOOD DOGS!!!!

Now, it’s 10pm. And I’m sorry, but I’m walking. It’s less than half a mile to my Air BnB and I’d rather get the workout than deal with any human being/Uber driver. 

This is for anyone worried about my decision: THE NEIGHBORHOOD IS SAFE. It feels like a much cooler, modest, sleepy Beverly Hills. Minus the expensive cars and entitlement. 

My Air BnB is small and cute, perfect for the 14 or so hours I’ll be using it. However, my sleep SUCKS with nightmares and restlessness. I hope it’s nervous exhaustion and that I’m not in a cursed room, because I’ll say it: I got a dark vibe. I’m booked back in this same studio for the end of my Mexico trip, so let’s put a pin in this until then. 

8/29, 10am. I visit nearby Parque México and see a whole block of the park is an excellent dog run and playground that dog trainers use to work. This is awesome!!

Different whistles and calls ring out from the playground and these perfect animals sit, shake, speak, and come on command. In another area of the park, I find a line of dogs laying on the ground, tethered to nothing. Some senior dogs are indeed sleeping, but others are clearly in position by their master’s command to STAY. 

GOOBOI!

The BEST is this: a single terrier sits by himself in the intersection of walking paths without a trainer in sight. This hyper alert Gooboi doesn’t look in my direction as I pass. His head is focused straight ahead as he STAYS. 

I see his trainer hiding behind bushes. I only notice him because Trainer waves frantically at a dog walker and indicates he’d like Walker to navigate his 10+ dogs slowly around Gooboi as a test. It’s too much for Gooboi- he breaks and sniffs some butts before Trainer can make it over to reposition him. Gooboi, you sniff butts if you need to! I’m beyond charmed by the whole episode. 

I make the mistake of spending too much cash this morning. I realize I don’t have enough to tip my shuttle driver and get road trip food. I have an hour until my shuttle is due.

I don’t know why, but I fixate on this ONE bank to use because my friend said it was the best and it’s a mile away. I pass closer banks, but I want to explore more. Plus, I walk a fast mile. 

If Stella was here, my last hour in Mexico City would have gone very differently. She’d never have let me fit a two mile errand in a one hour period. She’d have loaned me the money or made me stop at the first bank I saw. We’d have spent that last hour having lunch at the adorable coffee shop next door to our Air BnB. 

Gooboi leeeeeans out of his STAY position,
trying so hard to not sniff dog butts

Instead, I get a text from my Air BnB host that my shuttle has arrived twenty minutes early. I’m lost about half a mile away. I break into a run and I try to find the number to the shuttle service. The number is busy. I’m sucking wind. I’m not in as good of shape as I thought I was. (SIDEBAR: After I wrote this I finally googled Mexico City's elevation. 7,382!!!!!!! Santa Fe is around 7K and that city KILLED me for weeks before I acclimated. No wonder I feel like crap!)

Ten minutes later has me running up the streets of La Condesa because there are too many obstacles on the sidewalks. My phone is not working and also minutes away from a dead battery. I’m also still not 1000% sure I’m on the correct street until I recognize my front door as I RUN PAST IT. 

The driver had been THIS CLOSE to leaving my ass because no one around my Air BnB knew my name (because I don’t live there, but also I think my host was trying to give me an out if I needed it. “You’re looking for who? Nope, never heard of her.”). 

The sweaty shine of victory!

I collapse in the shuttle. We collect Phillipa and Dan, a Canadian couple, from the airport and start our journey to San Miguel de Allende. 

This is what I learn on the four hour drive:

~Phillipa & Dan have a house in San Miguel and are very generous with their snacks. 

~Shuttle busses are nimble with invisible corners. Time and again, I brace for impact only to swerve into the next lane. 

SIDEBAR: Last night on the metro, a woman gave me a saint card for San Judas Tadeo. I paid her a few pesos for it. Turns out San Judas watches over drivers! There is a prayer on the back of the saint card that asks for firm hands, clear eyes, no accidents(!!!), and protection from drunk and aggressive drivers. Thank God I bought it, is all I’m saying. 

~Cheetos are sweeter in Mexico. 

~Every restroom costs 2-5 pesos. 

~Restrooms don’t include toilet paper. 

~Receipts make passable toilet paper depending on how shiny or matte the receipt is. Obviously, go for matte if you find yourself in the same predicament. 

We’re almost to San Miguel? I hope?? Because I need to pee again.