On the way back to our B&B, the rain began and I placed my camera and cell phone in a pocket inside my jacket. When we got to our room, I couldn't find my cell phone in my pocket, which turned out not to be a true pocket, so must have slipped directly onto the ground as I walked the several blocks back from dinner. Well, what are the chances of finding a needle in a haystack? About as good as finding a cell phone on the busy streets of Tlaquepaque. But an hour later, after retracing our steps and asking a dozen vendors and shopkeepers if they had found a cell phone, all in our very rudimentary español and sign language and J. showing her cell phone when we said cell phone, I had the pink Sony in my hand. We asked a meat vendor we had passed earlier and after a few minutes of our waiting for an answer, he produced the phone. I quickly thanked him with a few dollars from my pocket. What a relief, what a surprise: my faith in humanity and synchronicity is affirmed.
On check-out day I woke up early, listened to birdsong and soaked up the color and texture of the vibrant paintings, intricately embroidered wall hanging and assorted Mexican pottery in our spacious and comfy room. Not wanting to disturb J., I took my carry-on into the bathroom to shower. I closed the door, enjoyed the warm water, finished up and opened the door to leave. Or should I say, tried to open the door? To shorten this story, I spent three hours in the bathroom (skylight 10 feet up, no window), sitting on the damp towels, listening to Prairie Home Companion, Lake Wobegon Days on my iPOD and/or meditating in the quiet of the room, while the hosts first tried to open the door, then waited for a locksmith to come. My idea of urgency was not conveyed to the locksmith, but the hosts were very concerned that I not be hurt during the attempt to remove the broken lock and that I get out soon. All this while they were trying to prepare and serve their gourmet breakfast to guests and continue trying to find a locksmith who would indeed show up. J. remained on the other side of the door, good friend that she is, to be sure that I was okay while waiting. Thank you, J.
Patience seems to be the word for travel. Stan and Jose's apology included the use of the room for the rest of the day, which we needed, remember, as we were up early, and pesos for a pricey lunch. Now, seeing Guadalajara in our tight time-frame would have to wait for a return visit.
That was it for Mexico, as we left for the Guadalajara airport by taxi, arriving early enough to people watch, have our bags thoroughly searched, as every bag leaving Mexico must be opened and examined, and begin the process of sorting out our adventure, in a political, social and cultural context. As on every journey I've traveled, I will return with more questions and the confirmation of my belief that the similarities of all humankind are greater than the differences, no matter the borders or governments set up by the people in power.
The flight was almost smooth; two hours before we landed I moved to first class, when the flight attendant accidentally dumped a full glass of sprite on me, my clothes soaked with another passenger's drink. Good fortune, it wasn't red wine or milk and my wish for flying first class was granted by whatever angel accompanied us on this journey.
While our trip was safe, fun, memorable and meaningful, it reached its peak of unexpected events when the almost-full moon hung in the midnight sky, dancing in and out of dark Mexican summer clouds, creating the power to change the course of lives. We don't know what's around the corner and that's the true adventure.
The end. Adios, Mexico.
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