The perfect conversation...

I slept hard and woke up remembering that I was on a completely different spot on the globe. I was slow to rise and snagged a bit of the ¨contintential breakfast¨of toast and instant coffee. I love instant coffee when I´m traveling - it reminds me of traveling... I dropped my bag off at my next hotel where I´m staying for the wedding festivities and hit the streets. I´m considering getting a bright orange dress for the wedding tomorrow as I brought a brown dress and the classic black cocktail but not thrilled with either of them. I visited parks, read my lonely planet, bought another pluma (pen) and found a little hole in the wall where I tried to order pollo mole enchaladas. It was completely comical as we couldn´t understand each other and she was asking me how many orders did I want and I kept telling her lemonade. Finally we decided she could revert to Ingles and I would answer in espanol and it worked. She loved my fish tattoo and when I finished my lunch the cook came out to talk to me.

He spoke English having spent the first 12 years of his life in New York City - his father moved the family back here to Queretaro when he was 12 and has hated him since then. He doesn´t like it here but has a plan to get back to the US. Because he was born there, he´s a citizen and he´s going to finish high school, work for a year, get his passport and go to college in the US. We talked about Queretaro, school, the funny things his parents use to do. (One time, they told me to get in the car, we were going somewhere. I told my friends I would be right back... 5 days later. My parents took us to Disney World. That was fun.) I told him about the wedding I was going to and how Mexico was sooooo clean compared to Africa, for example. (That was the only way I was able to excuse myself for not knowing Spanish - most of my travels were in Africa and the Middle East, not Mexico.) I told him I definitely wanted to come back. I paid my bill and left him a $10 bill (american dollar) and told him to save it towards his passport. I honestly thought he was going to cry. Good luck! We shook hands and I went across the street to the art museum of Queretaro.

It was the perfect conversation, not because he wanted to go back to the States but because we could actually converse, make jokes, talk about things. He was local who spoke English. I was remembering my trip to Cuba last night and it was fun to have a travel companion. However, my travel partner did not want to go out and meet ¨the local people¨- he was content to hang out with touristas. I am not. I need to talk to people, anyone, just about life, how things are here (where ever I may be), the issues, problems, joys, etc. It made me happy.

The art musuem was great - lots of pictures of Jesus and a modern section, that they were painting (had taken the art and put it on the floor). There were nets to keept the birds out of the square. The city is designed a lot like old Jerusalem or what I imagine Italy would be like. The streets are tight and one-way but open into patios, restaurts, shops, etc. It´s a whole other world behinds the doors.