I have so very much to tell about Mexico and my adventures herein that I have no idea where to start.

I could tell it all in chronological order, giving a play-by-play review of how my time here is going, but personally I think that would be disjointed and boring. So I’ve decided that I will break it up into segments, categorizing my thoughts on different aspects of Mexico and said adventures.

Thus said, we will start on possibly the longest chapter:

Travel

I can aptly describe my traveling adventures in one word: humbling.

Humbling?

Yes, humbling.

I have never felt so very inadequate or impractical as I did these last few days traveling ALONE in Mexico.

Have I mentioned that I don’t speak a word of Spanish?

Well, I don’t.

Which means I was traveling alone and confused in Mexico, with the words “touristica estupida” stamped boldly on my forehead, I’m sure.

Everyone knows that look. It’s the wide-eyed and terrified look of someone who has just stepped out of a familiar world onto foreign soil, surrounded by noise and confusion, turning around in circles trying to find something — anything — that looks even vaguely familiar to their natural habitat.

Yes sir, that’s the stupid tourist look.

And man, did I wear it boldly.

“It’s a once in a life-time opportunity!” they explain.

“You’ll have so much fun!” they rant.

“You absolutely have to go!” they determine.

“You’ll need to take a bus…and leave right away...” they conclude…

Take a bus…?

Alone…?

In Mexico…?

“You’ll be fine!” they reassure me.

After small p&p sessions on said topic (trust me, I wasn’t about to make a snap decision on something like this) I get the go-ahead and start prepping to go.

— Now, before we go any further with my travel story, I have to explain that I am very, very scared of doing new things. I’m sure I’ve said this a hundred times on this blog, but it’s very true. And this was definitely a new thing for me.

So, what happens when I am faced with something new (unfortunately, this happens with basically anything new) is that a small feeling of panic settles in the pit of my stomach, and — depending on how long the new occurrence lasts — the feeling of panic goes through a series of stages.

Stage one is that the panic starts in my stomach, causing the inevitable butterfly affect; then slowly, slowly inching it’s way up, it heads over to my lungs (stage two), causing the quickening and shortening of my breath; then (stage three) up to my heart, causing it to beat a little more quickly; then to my throat (stage four), causing it to clench and constrict; then finally, and at the most critical stage (five), it makes it’s way up to my eyes, where fear and panic settle, causing the wide-eyed look of terror that I described above.

Once I’ve reached the wide-eyed and terrified look, it’s too late.

All practicality gets flung to the wind and I become the bumbling idiot that I have always attempted to avoid.

So — imagining me in this state — let’s get back to my traveling testimony of how the Lord humbled me greatly.

Yes, so, we made it down to the bus station all safe and sound. Dear Phil (of Angelina) and Dad escorted me there to make sure that I made it off okay (thank you guys, so very much!) I’m quite sure though that they underestimated how very lost I was, but realized it quickly because of the barrage of questions that were thrown at them.

Phil ended up basically walking me through every step of getting on the bus, from buying the bus ticket to actually walking me out to the correct platform, explaining to the bus attendants that I don’t speak a word of Spanish, and handing my life over into their capable hands.

Thankfully, one attendant spoke some English, and was soooo sweet and helpful, even going so far as to tell the driver to make sure that I get off at my stop.

The Lord was merciful to me.

The first bus ride was long and fairly uneventful — except that every time we slowed down, the panicked feeling would return and I would fear that we would come to my bus stop and I would miss it … unfortunately, Mexican buses come to basically a complete stop whenever they go over a speed bump…and they have a lot of speed bumps in Mexico…

Multiply that by a four-hour bus ride and you can conclude that I definitely didn’t sleep any.

LOTS of prayer vigil though! Heh.

So, we finally made it to my bus stop. The driver even poked his head back to wave at me and say the name of the bus stop very, very slowly so that I would know that this was my stop. Phil had written down “por favor, please drop me at such-&-such a station” (I don’t remember what it was in Spanish, I only remember the por favor part, heh) So I made sure to show that to the driver hoping to get an affirming nod and “si, si!” and I did.

So that was fine.

I was about to breathe a sigh of relief until I got off the bus…and realized…that they had dropped me off on the side of the highway…

I almost panicked.

Apparently, that’s normal for the specific stop that I got off on, but it was NOT what I was expecting.

I walked up and down a little bit, holding my breath, and praying to God that the person who was supposed to pick me up would know I was here and come and get me.

It’s quite obvious that I’m a foreigner, so every vendor in the world approaches me with things to buy, which only adds to my confusion. Thankful I’ve gotten the phrase “no, gracias!” down quite well, so I wasn’t completely lost.

The small Mexican men also like to practice their English on me, which, you know, is cool and all, until they blush and say “jou are … how jou say … umm … very beautiful…”

I go blank at that part.

Inside I panic, outside I smile and say “gracias” and hope really, really hard that they go away.

(Of course, it’s flattering on some level, and encouraging to think that SOMEONE thinks you’re attractive…but when you’re stranded on the side of the highway completely lost out of your mind, it’s REALLY not a good time to hear something like that…)

“Just smile and wave boys, smile and wave” … oh, and be sure to say “YES!” when they ask “uh…jou hev…un…boy…friend?”

*sigh of relief*

No more awkward questions.

(Honestly, it’s not like I’m afraid of them, I’m about ten feet taller then all of them, it’s just really, really awkward and embarrassing…)

Thankfully 15-20 minutes later my ride showed up.

I’d been studying every car that passed, wondering “could that be them?” and praying that it was someone that I knew or who at least knew me.

The second I saw the very large white van, I knew that was my ride. It just screamed “Family van!” No hiding that.

And on a second score, I got picked up by two people I recognized from the blogging world (never met them before), Miggy & Justin. Very nice people, those two. :-D