Stepping out of the airport into the hot June air, sweet with blossom, heavy with humidity; into the noisy hustle of the taxi men in their clean white shirts. “Where you go?” “You need taxi?” I’ve become accustomed the walking by with a smile and a polite, “No, gracias”.
Cancun. Just a few miles south, Puerto Morelos. It’s become a second home. For the first time in my life – I bought a one way ticket that took me to Mexico. It felt like freedom.
In the heat, I am waiting on a friend. He said he’d be here and he will.
Sweat trickles down my back, travelers come and go and I find a spot where I can see the whole parking lot. Women in impossibly high heels and make up that has begun to drag, looking for an air conditioned limo. Tattooed young people laden with heavy backpacks, wearing flip-flops, searching for the right bus.
Two very different sides of the peso. Viva Mexico. Time passes in the shade. The taxi guys work on me some more, there are bargains in the offing.
Traveling with someone for a time, I was invited. Waiting, I remember how long it’s been since I traveled with anyone. This might take some getting used to. Nice to be asked, nice to have someone to enjoy the journey with, even if just for a while. We share a common lust for adventure and new discovery, culture and fun and — we have no idea where we’re going.
Time for something new and interesting.
I am mentally justifying the amount of luggage I have when he arrives – looking fresher than I feel. His eyes get wide when he sees my cases (it looks like more than it is!), he shakes his head and laughs “you’re such a girl!” Can’t argue with that.
And so my journey with “Texas” begins.