I should describe the trip to Zipolite, meeting up with friends and share some getting around travelogue information.
It had been kinda cold in Tucson for a couple of months. I was getting quite tired of shivering and wearing clothing daily. The house move certainly kept me dressed, in sweat suits that would become caked with dirt each day. I’d had enough. The time to reset the ‘ol inner computer had arrived.
This trip to Zipolite on the Oaxacan coast has been brewing for a couple of years. DF has helped me immeasurably and it is time to repay her kindness.
I found that Mexican domestic travel cuts considerable transportation expense. The plan is to drop south to Hermosillo by bus and fly from there.
We found ourselves in a South Tucson shuttle depot talking to the driver of a van to Nogales. He apologized for his lack of English and I envisioned my turn to apologize down south, until it all began to return to me. There is some kind of magical way that my Spanish, or more accurately, my mutilated Castellano, begins to drop from my lips, after years of general disuse.
We left time for the possible travel transportation schedule difficulties. The shuttle took us to the border, we walked across, a cab driver solicited us not 100 feet into the next country. He took us to the bus terminal, where not ten minutes later, we were given a sandwich, snack and a bottle of water for our three and a half hour cruise. In Hermosillo, another cab immediately took us to the airport. We were on time and thus stuck with a six hour wait. Mexican bus systems have changed admirably over the years. I remember squawking chickens overhead in old American …