Getting to know another country, with different customs, traditions, language especially, need not be an arduous or daunting task. It is a task, however. And it is not learned overnight.
My arrival in Tequis started with a bang. Literally. In actualidad! (Oh, my! I’m either getting better in Spanish or it’s actually beginning to reside in my brain. Who knows?) I was unsure of where to go. The people who had made Tequis known to me were not immediately available to guide me on arrival. Their address was on a street that started out ok but soon became impassable for my RV, it was so narrow. I had to go in reverse, didn’t know how to ask for guidance in Spanish, so began to S L O W L Y back up to look for a parking space elsewhere on my own. This after driving all day and being stopped by the Policia for driving on the elevated where TRUCKS (RV’s count as such) were not allowed. Tired doesn’t begin to describe how I felt. Just then I heard a screeching sound. . . That’s when my heart did a flip flop in an unknown language and almost got lost. The small rack hooked onto my hitch, and holding empty propane bottles and a hose, had made contact with a vehicular yacht of impressive proportions, in a spectacularly bright yellow colour. The scratch was highly visible on that colour and measured about 4 inches.
One agitated Senor emerged from a house with a devastated look on his face repeating that it was his car, “…mi carro, mi carro!” I got increasingly devastated myself. What a start in a new country! From his house, after attempting to contact the insurance people (I had just paid for a one year insurance policy a couple of days before) and getting nowhere after half an hour, we unanimously decided to hang up. He then made me the offer to look after the damage himself for a measly 1,000 pesos (a bit under $100), to my mind, an offer that I couldn’t refuse! An exchange of pesos and good will took place, I thanked them for their civility, then proceeded to park my RV just around the corner from their house on a street wide enough to allow for traffic in either direction. I stayed there for about a week until I found my new “casita” and moved right in front of it. Now that I know better, it appears clear that I was had, or so I’ve been told! The scratch, according to Mexican “experts”, could have been fixed for a maximum of $300 pesos. Live and learn.
Once settled in, I had expected to hear from his family, as we had left with such good feelings. I’d given them my new Tequis phone number. I’d met his wife, a charming vivacious lady who plied me with her jelly confections, and his son who introduced himself and added “….a sus ordenes”. Of course, I’d been immediately charmed. When does a self-respecting woman hear a man say “at your orders” and stays absolutely silent with a gaping mouth unsure of being connected with proper hearing and a brain?
Thus began my love affair with Mexico and its charming customs. Surprisingly however, I never heard from either the matron of the house or any of her family. I’ll have to stop by later, preferably in a vehicle other than my RV.
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