Mexican Taxis

I've done it. I've decoded the Mexican taxi driver's signal book. I can feel a Nobel Peace Prize coming on. Now remember that they drive on the right hand side of the road here, so you may need to translate all of this in your brain to make sense of it.

A left hand indicator means 'Get out of the way. I deserve to pass you'. A right hand indicator means 'You drive a rust bucket. No wonder I just passed you'. And hazard indicators mean 'Watch out! I'm about to do something dipstick crazy. Maybe I'll turn. Maybe I'll buy some avocados if they're ripe'.

A typical scenario. We followed this taxi down the left hand (fast) lane of the freeway. We were far too far back to consider passing. Not in the D.R.S. zone, as Murray Walker would put it. But of course we deserved to pass the taxi if ever we caught up to it, so we put our left hand indicator on and kept driving. The taxi driver must have done the unthinkable and glanced in his rear view mirror. 'No way, Jose', he thought, and put his left hand indicator on too. So there we were, heading down the freeway in the fast lane, duelling indicators. Mind you, there was nobody in the slow lane, but you don't go there. It's not mano enough. Can you imagine the taxi drivers shaming you on social media?

Eventually we passed the taxi somewhat down the road. Our driver put his right hand indicator on with a grunt of satisfaction, and moved over into the slow lane, and promptly slowed down. The taxi sailed past us again, but our driver had made his point I guess.

We're only a few hundred kms from the Guatemalan border here in Palenque, and any car or truck that comes across the border moving north will come down this road. You'll recall, if you are revising for the end of tour exam, that real Mexicans don't want to go the U.S. It's only people from Honduras and Guatemala and ... well anybody else really, so they had a very serious security post to stop refugees on the highway that we had to drive through.

There was a squad of gun-toting soldiers who didn't look up as we drove slowly past them. They were probably glued to the morning television soap opera. We caught it in the hotel restaurant at breakfast yesterday. It seems to be about two aging Mexican tap dancers who break into a dance when they have a misunderstanding, which is at least once an episode. People are transfixed by it.

Anyway, when the soldiers didn't give us a glance, the security guard raised the barrier and let us through without even opening our boot. I guess they rightly figured that no Guatemalan stowaway would last more than five minutes in there with our dirty socks anyway.

Arrived back at Villahermosa airport for our flight to Merida. It's a small regional airport, with relatively few flights, so we were all checked in within a few minutes. Gave the check-in girl her morning laugh. I asked if my seat was a window seat. She just shrugged her shoulders. "Window, aisle, whatever". I guessed that the plane is going to be very small, and it was.

The flight board still told us that our flight was on time as the incoming plane landed ten minutes after we were due to leave, but this is Mexico. Soon, all 25 of us piled aboard for our short flight. The pickup and transfer went without a hitch, and we arrived at our Merida hotel mid afternoon.

Seems that we are much closer to American tourist destinations here. Airport signs were often in English first, then Spanish. Menues are in English, and the English of hotel and restaurant staff is much better. But the clincher - saw two Hungry Jacks and a McDonalds in one block.

Wandered out in the inevitable late afternoon downpour to see the historical downtown district, and grab dinner at a local cafe.