It was strange running up to the time for me to leave the UK. It seemed that everyone reminded me of someone else; one person reminded me of one of my friends, another of a relative, another of someone on TV or from the movies… partly I was saying “goodbye” in case something happened (well meaning relatives: “careful on the plane in case you suffer permanent hearing damage”(!?), “travel safely, don’t die in a plane crash” etc), and as I was lying here in a Mexican hotel room (with hearing intact and still not dead) was thinking how people are more the same than they are different. Maybe it’s genotypes, maybe personality types; people are more like each other than they are different…
The journey was simple enough although a couple of things needed sorting at the airport; the plane was delayed which would have meant missing my connection at Orlando. A chat with a lovely guy from Virgin and I was re-routed through Las Vegas on a flight which was itself delayed and which meant that I had time to catch it, and had plenty of time to catch the late flight to Mexico City, arriving about 1 in the morning; then phoning the Holiday Inn at Mexico airport to re-arrange the shuttle pick-up.
All the flights themselves were really smooth and easy, even with ‘flu (thank heaven for modern drugs), mostly fairly boring (watched some movies on the Virgin flight though: Star Wars: Clone Wars, the remake of Death Race with Jason Statham, a rom-com with Simon Pegg and Kirsten Dunst (How to Lose Friends and Alienate people or something like), and maybe something else that was so memorable I don’t remember it. I dozed on and off during both flights, particularly the second.
Meeting up with Ed was great – his flight from Vancouver had also been delayed, and he was relaxing in the room when I got there, about 2 in the morning 25 hours after leaving. We chatted and laughed, and then set about sleeping; Ed from moving 2 hours forward and me from moving 6 hours back (8 hours back to Vegas then 2 hours forward to Mexico).
I awoke gently only three hours later, already refreshed, dawn beginning outside the window. As the curtains were open I lay there watching the dawn slowly fill the day. I grew more aware of the city stretching and preparing itself: cars passing, trucks too; a train sounding it’s horn as though it knew it was still too early, trying to do it’s horn thing without disturbing anyone (compared with the 8 o’clock train loud, long and brash); the worlds largest metropolis becoming more confident of itself in the light of day.
After spending time relaxing then showering and getting ready myself we went for breakfast – lots of meat in sauces – then off to the airport to meet Mary and Jane. Their plane had landed early and wasn’t showing on the boards so lots of running around to find out what had happened. Mary had had to explain about her swords which, although boxed up, all had to be inspected and measured. Apparently anything less than 48” is ok.
Travelling to Queretaro on the bus was full of “I’m in Mexico!” moments: the quality of light; the cactus with and without fruit; being on the bus itself; the mountains; the feel of this land beneath me and around me. There were many such moments both on that journey and after, and there’ll be others, I’m sure. I wonder wah the purpose of that sort of realisation is? Being here is a statement of fact, perhaps the wonder of it helps celebrate the awe of it, cultivates joy and gratitude. This morning I’d had a conversation about our wives, what amazing women they are in their support of us. I miss not sharing this with Cher, and still hope that one day I will.
The journey was simple enough although a couple of things needed sorting at the airport; the plane was delayed which would have meant missing my connection at Orlando. A chat with a lovely guy from Virgin and I was re-routed through Las Vegas on a flight which was itself delayed and which meant that I had time to catch it, and had plenty of time to catch the late flight to Mexico City, arriving about 1 in the morning; then phoning the Holiday Inn at Mexico airport to re-arrange the shuttle pick-up.
All the flights themselves were really smooth and easy, even with ‘flu (thank heaven for modern drugs), mostly fairly boring (watched some movies on the Virgin flight though: Star Wars: Clone Wars, the remake of Death Race with Jason Statham, a rom-com with Simon Pegg and Kirsten Dunst (How to Lose Friends and Alienate people or something like), and maybe something else that was so memorable I don’t remember it. I dozed on and off during both flights, particularly the second.
Meeting up with Ed was great – his flight from Vancouver had also been delayed, and he was relaxing in the room when I got there, about 2 in the morning 25 hours after leaving. We chatted and laughed, and then set about sleeping; Ed from moving 2 hours forward and me from moving 6 hours back (8 hours back to Vegas then 2 hours forward to Mexico).
I awoke gently only three hours later, already refreshed, dawn beginning outside the window. As the curtains were open I lay there watching the dawn slowly fill the day. I grew more aware of the city stretching and preparing itself: cars passing, trucks too; a train sounding it’s horn as though it knew it was still too early, trying to do it’s horn thing without disturbing anyone (compared with the 8 o’clock train loud, long and brash); the worlds largest metropolis becoming more confident of itself in the light of day.
After spending time relaxing then showering and getting ready myself we went for breakfast – lots of meat in sauces – then off to the airport to meet Mary and Jane. Their plane had landed early and wasn’t showing on the boards so lots of running around to find out what had happened. Mary had had to explain about her swords which, although boxed up, all had to be inspected and measured. Apparently anything less than 48” is ok.
Travelling to Queretaro on the bus was full of “I’m in Mexico!” moments: the quality of light; the cactus with and without fruit; being on the bus itself; the mountains; the feel of this land beneath me and around me. There were many such moments both on that journey and after, and there’ll be others, I’m sure. I wonder wah the purpose of that sort of realisation is? Being here is a statement of fact, perhaps the wonder of it helps celebrate the awe of it, cultivates joy and gratitude. This morning I’d had a conversation about our wives, what amazing women they are in their support of us. I miss not sharing this with Cher, and still hope that one day I will.
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