I’m off to Mexico for a week. Taking the red-eye this time, so I’ll be sleep-deprived when I get there. And half-starved. And stiff from having my knees jammed against the seat in front of me for six hours. Poor me.
It must be a sign of decadence to complain about being whisked from city to city at 500 mph while most of the world is on foot.
I once hitched a ride in the back of a stake-bed truck hauling sacks of corn. That’s one end of the transportation scale.
I’ve shared a collectivo taxi — a VW beetle — with five other passengers. One sat on my lap.
At the other end of the scale is the Eurostar, the high-speed train service between London and Paris. Luxurious, convenient, lots of leg-room, and very fast. It rates a 10 in my book.
Mexico’s Eurostar equivalent is its first-class express bus service between major cities. These big Mercedes and Volvo buses have wide, comfortable seats, movies, beverage service, and they run on time. They put the Grey Dog to shame.
I’ll try to write more from Mexico. Que te vaya bien!
Photo credit: Centennialofflight.gov