See, they return; ah, see the tentative
Movements, and the slow feet,
The trouble in the pace and the uncertain
Ezra Pound, from The Return
I arrived last Thursday night, having flown into Mexico City and, instead of doing my usual thing of taking a taxi to the bus terminal to catch a direct bus to San Miguel, I opted to take the bus that leaves from Benito Juarez airport to Querétaro and then requires taking a second bus from Querétaro to San Miguel. This was due to the last taxi ride in Mexico City in April when the driver hit me for extra charges for luggage.
It’s a long walk from the arrivals area to the ticket counter for the buses so I hired a porter and there’s the fare for the bus from Q to SMA and those two costs probably equal the Mexico City taxi fare, but I have a long memory of personal slights except when it benefits me not to remember.
Until the bus ride, the trip had been very smooth.
At 6 a.m. I breezed through the Oakland airport (thank you M for getting me there at such an early hour): I was using Southwest airlines and for a while now they’ve had passengers get their own sticky labels for their luggage – as part of the process you slide your passport through the kiosk, and I never seem to get that part right. Now they’ve added the long sticky label and I have this fear that the label, much like in a silent film, will stick to my hand, then my coat, then wrap around my body and I end up going onto the conveyor and into the belly of the plane. Despite some initial thumb adhesion, I got through that process alright.
I had TSA Pre and was initially first in line, so I thought I was cruising as I took off my coat and scarf, but then a metal button on my shoes set off the metal detector, and a line formed behind me. So off came the shoes and I heard a women commiserate “there goes the best part of TSA Pre.”
The flight was uneventful, but the bus was in heavy stop-and-go traffic for much of the way to Q and it took longer to get there then it usually takes to get all the way to SMA. The direct bus from Q to SMA was an hour late (I could have opted for one of the more-frequent locals, but I was tired and thought I was saving time by taking the direct bus). So instead of getting in near 8:30 p.m. I arrived at 10:30 p.m.
Changes in San Miguel
When the sun came up and I walked a little about town, I found that there have been more changes in that time than in the previous year. More to come on that in a future post.
I haven’t been writing, not even taking photos much over the past six months I’ll try to describe some of what’s been going on in future posts.