From Oaxaca to Gun Point – Not the Destination We Were Aiming For

If one C (well-travelled) meets second C (travelled only in Canada/US) the first C has to find the perfect spot to take the other C so he will fall in love with travel and then, the first C can then fall in love with the second C. So this became a complicated plan and in addition to finding the perfect spot, aeroplan also had to cooperate.

So many hours later, Mexico appeared on the radar as a possibility.

However, the first C was NOT going to resort Mexico with the second C; this had to be the “real Mexican” experience in order to find out if the second C was really into this backpacking thing.

So off we go to Mexico City where we can take a direct bus from the airport to Puebla, a pretty colonial city. So far so good. The bus is excellent and far surpasses anything we have in Canada. The scenery is amazing and to boot, we find a perfect hotel room that looks over the amazing plaza and its church. From Puebla, we move onto Oaxaca (a personal favourite of mine having spent Christmas once there) and gloriously, it hasn’t changed too much. We find another perfect little hotel that comes with a roof top that second C can look out from each and every morning he has his coffee and breakfast. Bonus! I now know roof tops are the perfect lure for him. After a few days wandering Oaxaca and chicken busing it to the surrounding towns for their daily markets, all is looking really positive. He likes it; in fact I think he loves it!

We get on our bus to head back to Mexico City as we are now going to head north.

All is going smoothly until I see a road block. OOPS! I hadn’t really explained those to second C prior to the trip; kind of forgetting to mention those travel moments when things kind of go awry.

Before I know it, the armed soldiers with guns out step onto our bus and start speaking Spanish rapidly. It appears that random passengers have the privilege of being selected for the baggage check; road side. And oh boy… we are the lucky winners of said random baggage check. In fact, anyone who looked foreign was selected however that only meant us and a couple of others. I quickly tell Chris I will look after things; taking full control of the situation; so to speak.

We get off and we are ordered to find our bags under the bus. I am freaking that if second C looks nervous, this will give them more reason to stick their guns in our sides. With the guns pointing at us, we had to open our bags so they could search them. I must admit I was very proud of second C’s fairly calm hands as he opened his pack; a new pack that he was not even familiar with on the best of days. After they checked and found we had the usual crap inside; too many clothes, umbrellas, kleenex etc. we were told to get back on the bus.

Now this is where I get extra suspicious. I am totally sure that they intend to NOT place our bags on the bus so I want to hang out there until I visibly see them returned. Soldier dudes don’t seem as pleased with my plan so they gesture for me to get back on the bus. I look at second C who still has it all together and I think, yes, he is going to be a great backpacker and I settle back into the horrible Mexican movie being blasted on the bus.

Does your husband go to the local beauty salon/barber everywhere he travels?

It all began in Chinatown in New York City. Chris picked out a local beauty salon and the woman shaved his head…literally…he returned with some knicks and vowed that that was a bad idea. For some strange reason, this began the ritual of looking for a barber or hair stylist (term is loosely used) in each and every destination. So far, he has had his hair cut in Mexico, Italy, Guatemala, Morocco and Peru.

The search is still on for the best cut.