The photo at left is the Church of San Andres (Saint Andrew), in the village of Ajijic (Ah-hee-HEEK), where Paula lives. The one pictured right is closer to where I live, in a subdivision called La Floresta, near San Antonio de Tlayacapan (we just call it San Antonio). It is the church of San Antonio de Padua, patron saint of the village. Every village has one--a patron saint and a church.
I've been waiting until I felt a bit more settled to resume this blog, but yesterday I realized stories are happening while I'm getting settled. For example, transportation issues are a constant reminder that I am living in a foreign country.
Yesterday I attended the semi-monthly ladies luncheon with the Mujeres del Lago, which is a story in itself. Afterward I walked to the taxi stand to catch a ride back to La Floresta. Normally, I would have walked a couple blocks farther and taken the bus, but it had been sprinkling rain on and off for several hours, and although I usually carry a shoulder bag with umbrella--in case of rain or sun--today I have only a very small purse. A taxi costs less than $4, so it's worth an occasional splurge.
I arrive at the taxi stand on the plaza and the only available cab is leaving to pick up another fare, so I wait around to see if someone will come and drive one of the other cabs parked there. Ten minutes later, with no cabbie in sight, I decide to walk to the bus stop, where I am pretty sure I can at least get shelter from the rain.
Buses usually run about every 15 minutes, but today, nada. Fifteen minutes pass, then 20. There is a sizable crowd waiting now. When a bus finally arrives it is already full, with people in the aisle, but I try to move to the back without too much pushing. "Con permisso," I say politely as I inch my way closer to the back door. The ride is not long and I need to be ready to give the driver the 'stop' signal, which is located on one of the grab bars near the back door. (Unlike American buses, there is no signal at every seat, or even every other seat, and you must stand to reach this one.)
So I'm standing in the aisle, in the middle of the bus, hanging on with both hands to a bar that is above my head, stooping to look for my stop out the front window of the lurching bus, while also trying desperately at this point to move to one of the exits. As I politely push past a lady with a couple baskets full of some kind of wares in the middle of the aisle, I look up and realize there was a signal button at the place I had been standing, now out of reach. So I squeeze back past the lady with the baskets (I hear grumbling en espanol as I pass--something to do, no doubt, with my being a large American person) and make it to the button. The bus slows down, but I'm not as close to my stop as I would like, because of the rain, so I shout at the driver to continue (while a young man standing nearby mumbles, "Just get off here.") I should have listened, because we quickly accelerate, and I am whisked away, far beyond my stop, to Walmart, still stuck swaying in the middle of the bus.
Now there are Walmart shoppers, with their goods, trying to push their way on board, and we are already two deep in the aisle where I am standing. I can't move. Why isn't anyone getting off at the back, I wonder? Finally, I shout "I need to get out. Let me out please!" (More grumbling, possibly swearing, en espanol.) I shove my way to the front, thank the driver, and I'm on the street in the rain.
As I walk home, I remember someone telling me early on, "You just have to shove your way to where you want to be. It's how it's done here." Transportation Lesson #2 learned.
Lesson #1 was inadvertently insulting my taxi driver. I won't bore you with the details.
