April 14, 2012
It was on this day, exactly 10 years ago, that I boarded a plane headed to Mexico City. A momentous time for me. I had studied Mesoamerican archaeology in university and had looked forward to this day. I was travelling alone as I could not get anyone I knew to accompany me, so I made the leap myself.
I was meeting a Tour Group to begin a 14-day bus tour, but I flew out a day early so I could visit the Templo Mayor Museum and see the Aztec artifacts. Mexico City sits on top of Tenochtitlan the capital city of the Aztec Empire, and the Triple Alliance. I needed to go there. I guessed the Tour would short shrift any visit to this museum and I wanted to take my time.
It was a cold dreary day in Calgary. I was so terrified. The airline pilots threatened to strike the day before and I nearly had a stroke. NOT FAIR to crush my dream. Crisis was averted and I flew to Vancouver and then to Mexico City. The second flight was the most civilized flight I ever was on. Everyone was quiet and respectful, including families with children.
When we descended it was dark and I watched the never-ending lights. Having no idea what to do, I followed the others and found my suitcase after a very long walk. I hefted it onto the scanner and pushed the button that thankfully turned green. Two sliding doors opened and there I was, waiting in the hallway.
There was supposed to be a Transfer Driver to take me to hotel, but no one was there. I walked down another hallway briefly, had time to have a small panic attack and walked back and saw the driver holding the sign: Peregrine – Manz. Off we went. He was very friendly and his English was good. We found the white van in the parking lot and other people were already in it. A Woman was in the passenger seat and her English was very good and she translated what the others asked me.
“Why are you here?” I told them, a culture tour. To fulfill a dream.
“Where are you from? Where is Calgary?” Above Montana.
When we arrived at their hotel, I needed to get out to let an Old Woman out of the van. They placed her in her wheelchair. Before she left, she looked up at me, grasped both of my hands and held them warmly. She spoke and the Woman translated, “I hope you have a wonderful trip, and it’s all you ever dreamed.” I looked down into her face and thanked her. Sometimes kindness can save your life, and their warmth and kindness in that van helped me overcome the tremendous fear. My first experience of Mexicans in their own country.
They dropped me off on the sidewalk of my old hotel, and the large door slammed in behind me like a Dracula movie. I spoke to the desk, and he pointed to the elevator. This elevator needed an attendant to open and shut the gate. Up on the 6th floor, my suitcase loudly rolled over the terracotta floor. Inside my room I cried with fright. My room looked inwards to a courtyard so I opened the little window. There were two women practicing the tango on the fourth floor. In disbelief, I fell asleep.
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