From Querétaro the bus ride took me to the Norte terminal of Mexico City from where I took a metro train to the city centre. Or at least tried to – I ended up going the wrong direction initially. Eventually I found a nice rooftop hotel room, and had some cheap eats nearby.
Feeling again some pangs of loneliness, I decide to head for where there might be some evening life, perhaps a few fellow travellers. However I managed to depress myself even more – it seemed that the only people out and about were couples cuddling each other. Inevitably this caused the demons that I was running from to leap at me from the shadows and chase me back to my hotel.
Back in my room I wrote to a friend who I knew would be sympathetic… this made me feel better.
My main reason for coming to Mexico City was to visit the pyramids of Teotihuacán. The following morning I made an early start, heading back to the Norte terminal and then boarded the bus. On board there was, at last, a fellow backpacker. He turned out to be a young lawyer from the UK called Tim. He was travelling north from Central America, and was therefore a gold mine of information, particularly about Guatemala, which he said was in something of a state of political upheaval, an election being imminent on 11th November. Tim advised crossing into Guatemala before election day in case civil strife resulted in the border being closed. He also had some entertaining stories of the relaxed lifestyle he had experienced visiting Livingston on Guatemala’s Caribbean coast…
I spend the rest of the day at Teotihuacán with Tim, wandering round the pyramids of the Sun and the Moon, and learning about the mysterious civilisation that created these huge monuments along with the rest of the ancient city.
Mid afternoon we got the bus back to Mexico City, and went for a vegetarian meal. We exchanged travel tips – mine to Tim was to carry a compass, which had enabled me to figure out which way we were facing when we emerged from the metro station. Tim’s to me was to buy a 1 dollar box of ballpoint pens and distribute them in my small day backpack, such that it was always very quick to find a pen whenever I urgently needed one.
We wandered around the central area of the city and took a few photos. The damage from the major earthquake in 1985 was still in evidence, with several buildings at a bit of a tilt.
Tim’s “street Spanish” was better than mine – he alerted me to the fact that he could hear (or so he claimed) occasional compliments muttered by female admirers in the street as we strolled along: “Gueros guapos!!” (handsome fair skinned guys). I didn’t believe him at all!
Tim arranged to meet me later to go for a drink, but he failed to show up, which set me back into my despondent mood from the last 2 nights. After a wander around the streets, I headed back for an early night, deciding to head south again as soon as possible.
In 1987 during Spring break up (from seismic not school) I bused from Guadalajara to Cozumel. I took 60 days doing it and never had any problems.
Beaches and ancient ruins, my favourite reasons to travel.
Muy interesante y realista relato
Was that the last time you saw Tim? Stood up by a fellow Brit and backpacker? How rude!!! I hope you haven’t held a grudge for too long.
Maybe a drug cartel got a hold of him?
Another thing that I also thought was funny was finding the correct public transportation line but not knowing the direction to go. For the longest time I never dealt with figuring out those crazy lines for the metros. I let someone else do it. But now I can read and figure out those like the back of my hand.
Beautiful pictures!
Never saw Tim again. At the time I assumed he’d fallen victim to a Mexicana saying “Guero guapo”. Ha! (which didn’t really make me feel any better!!)