Oh Mexico
part two
The next morning, we figured out where the bus station was. The two of us grabbed our bags. Thankfully, we both packed light, as we would soon realize how valuable minimal packing was for getting off the bus at our appointed stop.
Looking back, I wonder how we managed it. This was before cell phones, and we had no communication with anyone once we left the hotel. All we had were our scribbled notes – a bus number, the name of the village, and Richard’s best wishes.
We got to the bus station, bought tickets, boarded the bus, and took a seat. There was no designated place for luggage, so we had to keep our bags on our laps. The bus wasn’t crowded at first, but that was deceptive. We were the first to board because we were at the main station. As the bus wound its way through the city, it kept making stops and picking up passengers. We ended up seated toward the back (a big mistake). After a while, we were no longer seated but standing in the aisle, squished and jammed together with the rest of the passengers.
It felt like hours before we reached our stop. I wouldn’t have known it was our stop were it not for Johnny. By the time we arrived, we were trapped in a sea of people. Nobody was moving. We were the only two trying to get off. Finally, in desperation, we started pushing our way forward, holding our bags over our heads, trying to be as polite as possible while shoving our way through the crowd.
We finally stepped off the bus and onto the street of the small town where we would be ministering for the next ten days. It was the week after Christmas, and the New Year was fast approaching. The waves were crashing on the beach, and the sun was shining overhead. The bus pulled away. We were dumbstruck, unsure of what to do next.
