I suppose at the beginning.
Tuesday I had classes until 12:20ish as usual. I had a few final touches to put on my presentation as well as packing to do, so I scurried home. I got showered and packed and realized I would have time on the plane to work on presentation details as well as Wednesday evening.
I texted Mabel to see if she could take me to the airport or if I needed to get a taxi. She texted me back and said that she had a meeting at school and couldn't. So I called Fran.
There was a time I came home from yoga and was stranded and Fran was my driver. He gave me his card and cell phone number. I called him for my Cozumel trip, but then Yuri's mom pulled through at the eleventh hour. I called him on Tuesday and he was more than happy to take me for 120 pesos. In Mexico City, I have found out, it costs only about 100 and it's a HUGE city. But they run on meters. In Culiacán you have to bargain I suppose. Though I never have. He arrived early and did all the things he was supposed to, so I was thankful. I think he's going to end up being an important part of my Culichi (someone/something from Culiacán) life.
I got to the airport with plenty of time (of course) and got checked in. I waited at my gate catching up in my Obama book.
The flight was fine. It's only 2 hours gate to gate, and again AeroMéxico pulled through with the Japonese peanuts (YUM!) and Coca Light (the whole can!). I love this airline. Sure they rip me off since they have a monopoly in Culiacán, but I love them!
So on the plane, I worked on my project until I could no longer fit (the guy in front of me leaned back and my computer no longer stayed open).
I noticed the guy next to me was reading a leadership book in English, but I didn't bother striking up a conversation.
We started our descent and the guy next to me said "This is where that plane went down last week."
There was a private government plane with important drug-fighting people on it that crashed last week in the middle of Mexico City. They're of course saying it was an accident, etc. But Federal Police were stepped up in Culiacán and in all drug-cities. At any rate, I told him this was my first time to the city, etc, and we struck up a conversation. Obviously we talked about why I was here. As we were getting off the plane, he tells me he's looking for someone to chat with to practice English (like a coffee-house-type chat, not classes) if any of my teaching friends are interested, etc. I tell him I've just recently thought about enrolling in a class to improve my Spanish. We exchanged numbers and we'll see if I call him.
I got off the plane and got my luggage quickly.
Kermit (the dad of the family from California on exchange in Mexico City for the year) was waiting for me. We got to the Suburu in the garage and headed out, asking directions of everyone we saw. We had a map, but there's just no way to explain how driving is in Mexico in general. Make it Mexico City and you're just bound to get lost.
We did.
It took over two hours to get home. It took him 30 to get there in the daylight.
We were on the cuota (which is most like our interstates, but you pay a toll (the "big road" as I used to call it), but we ended up going the wrong direction at one point. I don't know how anyone, but especially gringos, drives here!
We stopped at a men's club to ask directions, then a gas station, then a bus stop. We were going the right way at each of those places, but each time we stopped, it was longer. The men's club said five minutes down the road. The gas station said ten (five minutes later) and the bus stop said fifteen. Oh, Mexico!
We got to the apartment (and it was BIG- the complex and the unit itself) and I made myself at home on my pillow-top camping mat. It was a double layer with a sleeping bag, so pretty soft all things considered. Gretchen and the kids had been asleep for hours, so Kermit and I caught up on some things. By 1 I was in bed ready for the kids to wake me at 7 (6 my time)...
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