HOLA!...thats all i got

Our stunning view outside our window.

10.30am and I wake Stef up with a friendly reminder that we have to be at the airport in an hour and a half.
If you know me, you know Stef...and if you know Stef, you know she
A) HATES to be hurried and
B) Rarely actually quickens her pace.
She therefore decided to leisurely get up, pack her bag and then by the time I was ready to leave…hopped in the shower.
**this is stef. In my defence.. tully made me butcher my legs in the shower . I was hurrying so fast that they bled and I had to attend to them hours later after they were even further injured by my bag rubbing. Chafe.
(EDITORS NOTE- I just pushed Stef away from the keyboard and she fell back and crushed a chair that belongs to this poor senoritas internet café. We will probably have to pay $5,000 pesos for that.)
As I was saying…Stef then proceeded to take her sweet time in the shower and as such, poor David who was feeling sick had to drive us to the airport instead of us getting a cab because we would have missed our flight.

A confusing check in later and it becomes very very clear that we are not prepared for the language barrier that is going to smack us in the face the moment we arrive in Mexico.
The plane ride was only 3 hours and not as bad as we had expected- however getting out of the airport was another story.
After making it through customs (after only a small panic attack that some crazy Mexican gang had stolen our backpacks) we left the airport, only to be absoultly bombarded and harassed by a million Mexicans trying to convince us to hop in their sorry excuse for a cab.
Stef had done some dectective work on the plane so we knew which company to trust, however first we would need to convert out USD into Pesos.
By this time it is 7.45pm at night, we have lost most of the day to time zones and traveling, I am scared, Stef is hungry and we have nothing of the local currency.
A trip to the ATM results in me realizing I hadn’t transferred any of my savings into my streamline and Stef realizing her special travel cash card doesn’t work in Mexico.
This is going to be fun.

Finally, we got some cash and arranged with the cab company to take us to a cheap hotel near the bus stop for $200 pesos which, thanks to our ignorance, could be a lot or could be a good deal. Despite our ideal plans being to hop on a bus straight from the airport, thus not having to spend a night in Mexico city- our language problems, bad organizing and time getting out of the airport has meant that we had missed all the night buses.
All part of the experience right?

The cab ride through Mexico City is dangerous and scary. There are no lanes and no seatbelts. The car stereo blares foreign music and the car doors are locked the instant some shady characters in hoodies walk up trying to sell roses.
Still, the lights, smells and colours are enough to keep Stef and I grinning from ear to ear.
While L.A was crazy, it could have been any big city. This is probably the first time I have felt truly far from home.

The hotel was something out of a late night SBS porno. Creeper vines, fake marble flooring and mirrors on the roof almost have a feel of a grand hotel from the 60s that was abandoned, and then re-inhabited by our current Mexican friends.
Again, our lack of Spanish causes confusion as we try to request ONE room with a double bed for the two of us.
The price ($685 pesos) seems like a lot, and when we get up stairs there are two double beds, further cementing our original thought that no one had any idea what the other was saying downstairs in the lobby.

Stef and I crack up at our surroundings. The walls are covered in green stucco, there are mirrors covering one wall and a beautiful painting between the two beds. The basin is in the main room and the toilet and shower remind me of my primary schools locker room.
The lock on our door also reminds me of my primary school, as it is about as advance as your everyday cubicle lock.

Stef and I, entertaining ourselves in our pimpin hotel room.

Starving, we secretly attached our money belts and head downstairs to the restaurant. The friendly bell boy from before is also the maitre de AND our waiter for this evening waiter.
There is a tv playing Spanish cartoons for our entertainment and we are brought out our complimentary entrée of bread rolls, pure chili salsa, a plate of limes and 4 crackers in a packet.
I try and ask if the salsa is spicey, he shakes his head and says no.
I try some.
And again, curse the language barrier as I try and cool down my molten hot mouth with the limes. Is that what they are for?
We order from the single English menu (spag bol and the club sandwich plus two cokes) and our waiter seems sad we didn’t order a beer.
The cokes arrive and we realize we should have asked for no ice…this constant feeling of fucking up weighs on me, and again I curse not being more prepared…a Loneley Planet guide on Mexico at the very least.

Food is good and we pay, before asking if we will get raped walking down the road to the 7-11. He laughs.
Regardless, Stef demands I put my big black hood on and try and hide my obvious blonde locks.
I almost break into a run and demand that Stef not leave my side as we stock up on foreign versions of our favourites.

Making it back to the hotel safely, we lock our door and Stef shoves a table up against the handle just for extra precaution.
We are relieved to find some English channels on the tv, one with especially good reception. Just my luck, however, that the movie screening on this one fantastic channel is Anaconda.
We instead attempt to watch The Pursuit of Happiness that has English picture, but some cross contamination of a Spanish station, making it almost impossible to concentrate on the movie.

A couple of Law and Order episodes later and we are out like a light.

The resturant.

The next day my alarm goes off bright and early at 7am, as per our plan to try and get the first available bus to Puerto Escondido so that we are there tonight.
Its unexpectedly chilly as we re pack and head down to the restaurant for our complimentary breakfast of what looks like, a curry, some rice, wedges, grey looking scrambled eyes, orange DRINK, not juice but drink…and of course, bread.

Stef enjoying some grey eggs on bread and orange drink.

We begrudgingly put on our backpacks again performing again the *backpack dance* where you pick up one shoulder strap and throw it over your back, alternatively hopping from side to side, sticking your bum out trying to get the back to sit on your back properly all the while making appropriate grunting noises before clipping the heavy load to our already bruised hips.

The hotel organizes us a cab to Tasquena Station for another $200 pesos and this time we KNOW we are being ripped off, however our options are limited so we choose to indulge them.
This cab driver speaks a bit of English and goes through Mexico by states, listing all the attractions we should visit.

Arriving at the bus station and it becomes obvious this isn’t a line-up-and-hop-on-the-next-bus-in-ten-minutes affair. There are lots of people, almost all of them Mexican and lots of different bus companies, not all of them going to Puerto Escondido.
We find four that are, however the earliest bus is at 7pm and it slowly hits us that this station will be our home for roughly the next ten hours.
We opt for the 7.45 bus because apparently its slightly more modern, buy our tickets and pray to god there is a internet café.

One section of the bus station we will call home.

As you can see, there is one. A great, modern, heated one. We have been in here on booths 38 and 37 since we bought our tickets this morning and it is now 3.33pm.
We did venture out once, to get food and ended up with some horrible nachos with fluro orange liquid dipping cheese so we have since withdrawn back to the safe haven of Facebook and Hotmail.

We picked the safest option for our bus station lunch.

With a 15 hour bus trip, reunion with birthday boy Chris Peck and lots of hot Mexican sunshine…there is bound to be plenty more to write very soon.