Day 1: Mexico City, D.F. to Tuxtla-Gutierrez, Chiapas

Late leaving – drives me nuts. Got lost, temperature rising. A few deep breaths and you gotta let it go. So I got out the map, spend 10 minutes figuring out where I am and another 5 figuring out how to get where I want to go. Done. Found my route, zipped through to my destination, had to pull a u-turn to actually arrive, so I did it along with 20 other cars. Found Carolina lickety split. Then things got interesting.

We weren´t sure what the best route out of the city was, so we got out the maps. There we were, looking at maps and debating our options when the police officer appeared seemingly from nowhere. I opened my window and said good morning. He said good morning and then recounted my last few moves to us – I had made an illegal turn, stopped in a no stopping zone, and then stayed there talking. I had to give him credit; everything he said was true. But he did not come prepared. He did not know I was a woman on mission, running late, and only barely escaped from Dante’s 6th level of hell otherwise known as the reconstruction zone of the Circuito Interior. So I told him. He was initially unmoved, but when we demonstrated that we were really looking at a map and clearly on our way out of town, the winds shifted. He took the map as if to help and promptly located us in a place where we could not be. I resisted the urge to correct him. Eventually he sorted us out and told us exactly how we should go. I thought we might just be off the hook, but no. He came back around to the problem of my recent driving habits. I protested weakly, he asked me what I wanted to have happen. I answered that I wanted him to pardon me and let me go. To my total amazement that is what happened. He looked at my license and registration and let us go. In fact, he reminded us of our route, told me to put on my seat belt, and shook my hand. I continue to be quite pleased by this strange turn of events.

Given the behavior of our officer we thought it best to move it before he reconsidered. So we left! And we took his route even though we were quite sure there was a better, shorter route. There was no way I was going to cross his path again. We found our route, nearly lost it about three more times and finally hit the road to Puebla and parts beyond.

We drove over 800 kilometers (that’s 500+ miles for gringos) in about 9 hours, not bad for a pair of amateurs. En route we stopped for mangos. A whole box! Apart from that stop, we stopped only for strict necessities – toilets, gas, and snacks (in that order).