The day I left for Mexico was a nerve-wracking day. I had already been away from home for almost 2 months - visiting my dad in Vegas. I had packed my backpack, plus a suitcase and a carry-on. The suitcase was staying behind with my dad; he was planning on visiting me once I got a little more settled.
I don’t remember what time of day I left, I just remember sitting in the airport, watching the clock, checking and double checking that I had my passport, money, cards, the name of the hotel and my rough plans written in my horribly illegible writing - really, it’s bad enough that I should seriously consider being a doctor.
I had never been to Mexico before and I had two weeks to spend alone in Mexico City before embarking on a tour with GAdventures down to Guatemala. Go big or go home.
After cruising over the giant metropolis for what seemed like hours, we arrived at 4 am. Anyone who’s travelled will probably tell you it’s a good idea to arrive in a foreign country during the day. They are correct. I sat in the airport with my suitcase, reading a book and feeling anxious for 5 hours. Luckily, there was a group of 12 friendly students that were waiting for their ride to show up – so I had people that could watch my bag for me if I had to run to the washroom or go grab a quick snack.
As soon as the breakfast place in the airport opened, I headed there to try some real Mexican food. Now, I fully expected to learn Spanish and had some key phrases down. I also expected that maybe someone there would speak English – at least in the airport, at least a little?! No such luck. As I struggled to try and order eggs (huevo), she asked me what juice (jugo) I wanted and I replied revuelto (scrambled). After that I just took to pointing.
I then took a look at the prices and felt immediately sick: $68 for breakfast? This couldn’t possibly be right. Why had everyone told me Mexico was so cheap? I must have looked utterly pathetic and confused, as the waitress kindly pointed to the price and said “peso!” so the equivalent of 5 or 6 dollars (actually pretty expensive for Mexico City). They just use the same symbol – because that’s not confusing at all. Then again, we use the same symbol in Canada and our money isn’t the same as the American dollar either.
Finally at 9 am, I was feeling confident enough to leave the airport. I know, I’m practically Braveheart.
I found a cab driver who thankfully understood my mangled attempts at asking for the Monte Carlo Hospedaje and managed to get me there AND make me laugh even though I understood approximately 2% of what he said.
The check-in guy at the hotel was helpful as can be as he showed me to a little room with a table, basic bed and bathroom with the shower in the middle of the ceiling. Meaning I practically had to stand on the toilet to get under the water, but after the long day of travel it felt glorious.
After my shower, I wandered around the streets with no plan. I headed to the Zocolo (main square) and browsed the windows. Men in police uniforms with guns stood guard on almost every street corner, which actually made me feel very safe. A lot of my friends had been worried about me going alone to Mexico City: “it’s so dangerous!”, “You’re crazy!”, “Why?” but I knew that if I never put myself out on a limb, I’d be dissatisfied and no one had wanted, or been able, to come with me. I had a nice day touring and getting my bearings.
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That first night though was actually pretty tough. Not knowing much of the language, my first time traveling by myself, my first trip away from home for longer than 3 weeks. Sure, I had traveled throughout Canada and been to the US. I had been to the U.K. when I was a flag-twirling Colour Guard member, on tour, and had even gone to Cuba with some friends on an all-inclusive resort vacation, but I had never done anything even close to this. Every trip I’d been on before this was structured. I had been born and raised in one city, and lived there my entire life. What was I doing?
After I found dinner (my first dinner in Mexico was pasta – I don’t know what I was thinking. It was delicious, but seriously?) I made my way back to the hotel, curled up with my book and cried myself to sleep. I think that was the first time in my life I ever felt homesick.
Luckily for me, my travel confidence was about to go up, and my fun about to really begin.
