The Incident Report

Now we come to “the story” part of our trip.  You know, the first story you tell people when you get home, the last story you tell your parents, the story you’ll eventually tell your children someday.  This is that story:

The stretch from Querétaro to Tijuana was the longest stretch by far.  The internet search told us the bus trip would take 30 hours.  The bus station (more akin to an airport than a bus stop) in Querétaro told us the direct bus trip would last 36 hours. In the end it lasted 46.

Busing through Central America has a sort of rhythm to it, not a consistent one like with a stop every 4 hours, people getting on and off at each stop, the driver calling “All aboard!”; rather, its rhythm is more organic with a give-and-take flow more akin to waves along a seashore.  Stops happen, every now and then; people debark and board at their whimsy; buses arrive at the station almost silently and leave almost as quiet.  In a word, you really have to be on your toes to travel by bus in Mexico.

Our advice was to NEVER SPLIT UP.  Smart advice given we were (are) two young American women traveling alone through a foreign country.  Advantage: we knew Spanish.  Disadvantage: we didn’t know Mexico and their culture very well and couldn’t read situations off the cuff.  So, we chose to follow this simple piece of advice.

At each stop, the driver would let us know if we could get off (to stretch our legs, grab some food, pee in a real bathroom, etc.) and how much time we had (15 min., half hour, etc.).  

Regardless of the time they told us, they were always late in leaving.  Not us though.  Being good gringas, we made sure we were back to the bus well before the departure time.  Things were going well.

25 hours into the trip (and like 7 dubbed action movies later) we pulled over for yet another stop.  A short one this time: 15 min.  It was around 6am so we decided to quick go pee and then I would find us some food and Rachel would quick charge our phone for a few minutes.  Mission accomplished, we walked back outside 13 minutes later… Only to see no bus.  Our bus was gone.  The very bus that carried all of our luggage, pillows, blankets, sweatshirts and a backpack with Rachel’s wallet in it.  Thank God we both had our purses with our passports. I had my wallet with money and Rachel had her phone.  Rachel was slightly panicking, I was pissed.  How could our drivers leave us?  They knew us, they knew our crazy story (those Americans), and Rachel is blonde for goodness’ sake! 

The workers we asked were all nonchalant about it, as in “Oh yeah, that bus left ages ago and there’s no way you can run into the road and go catch it.”  Which didn’t make sense at all.  We had just got there!  Thank God I had my ticket in my pocket.  The workers told us, “Tranquila, tranquila.  Hay otro bus.”  They told us to hop on another bus headed for Tijuana and we’d catch up with our bus along the way.  With no other option, we followed their directions and hopped on another bus.  Which smelled terrible.  And was freezing.  And then, a half hour into our miserable replacement ride, the bus blew a tire.  There was no way we were going to catch our bus now. 

Hours later, at the next stop, we caved in and bought a blanket (we had nothing to stay warm with).  The bus driver kept telling us not to worry, that we’d figure it out, that we’d catch the bus. 

It was the longest wait of my life. 

2 different views of the U.S./Mexico Border

The closer we got to the border, the more and more we ran into security checkpoints.  Mexican police had everyone get off the bus and they would randomly search a few bags from below.  We looked remarkably stupid, with no luggage, no nothing.  Drug smugglers I’m sure!  The bus driver was on our side though.  At each stop, I kept searching for my orange backpack, thinking that they may have confiscated an unclaimed bag—my bag—because I wasn’t there to say it was mine.  There was no way to tell though as each stop had like 15-20 stations…

My heart continued to pound in my ears.

13 dubbed movies, a few strange episodes, a long trek along the walled border, and 46 hours later, we finally arrived in Tijuana!

Only to hear from personnel that our bus hadn’t arrived yet.  What?!  How could that be possible?

It took us 2 hours to figure out the inner workings of the bus station and find out who was in charge.  Many people helped us along the way, including the bus drivers.  Turns out, our luggage was sent ahead by our first bus driver and arrived ahead of us in Tijuana (I still don’t know why he didn’t just personally deliver it like he was supposed to on his bus headed to Tijuana but hey).  So we had that back at least.  But all of our stuff above in the bus was still lost.  In those 2 hours we finally tracked down the bus and they said they found “some stuff” and would send it over on the next bus which would arrive in 4 hours.  We had been in this drama for 2 full days by now!  So I said thanks, but we’ll be back in the morning to get our stuff. 

We came in early the next morning and thank goodness the same people were working and they recognized us.  They had found one pillow and the backpack.  Nothing was missing from the backpack, thank the Lord!

Moral of the story is, when traveling with a partner, ALWAYS SPLIT UP!  One person stays with the bus and the other person can go pee and get food (and then you can trade off).  That way your buddy can keep the bus driver from abandoning you at a station in the middle of Mexico.

The end.

Stay tuned as I share about my one day in the crazy border city of Tijuana!