No photos yet. I was too exhausted to rummage through my still full suitcase to try to find the camera. I arrived in the middle of the night last night and early this morning I had to go to LCS to renew my FM3. It was wonderful for me to be in the warm sunshine and walking in my neighborhood. I visited with friends along the way. What a great life I have and I appreciate every minute back here. Of course, I miss my family but maybe they will come here next time.
When I got off the plane in Guadalajara there was a portable metal stairway for us to take. Buses were waiting to take us to the airport building. Every since I broke my ankle I am very careful when I walk down any stairs. So I was taking them slowly and holding on to the rail for dear life. I must have looked like an old woman because when I finally reached the bottom of the stairs a Mexican man asked if I needed a WHEELCHAIR! Well that felt like a slap in the face. Did I appear THAT OLD? Everyone else was already boarding the bus... I said, NO. I don't need a wheelchair. He politely asked me again. Was I sure I didn't need a wheelchair? This time I had an edge to my voice. NO. No wheelchair. I was tired from the trip and here I was being treated like an OLD person. I glared at him and hobbled onto the bus.
When we got to the terminal, there was a long line to get through Customs. Guess what. That same man wheeled in a woman in the wheelchair and he took her right up front. No waiting in that line. No waiting in any of the lines we had to negotiate in order to finally get out of there. She immediately got her bags and immediately went through the last line..... I, on the other hand, had to wait through three very long exhausting lines and forty five minutes later I was finally out.
What is the moral to this story? Don't let vanity cheat you out of an opportunity to get first in line.? Or maybe, order a wheelchair when you get into the Guadalajara Airport? Or, accept the advantages of old age?
I am so happy to be HOME again. I have been away a month and four days. That was long enough for me to forget which key went into which lock in my casita. (Maybe I am a forgetful old woman.) My casita looked pretty shabby after living with my son and daughter-in-law in their beautiful three story home. But after a couple of minutes I was glad to be there and I didn't even notice the down at the heals look. It was like taking off a pair of very expensive shoes and putting on an old worn out pair of slippers. Home again. That is all that matters. And Chico was so excited to see me. My landlord let him out of his house as soon as he heard me open the gate and Chico ran into my arms. He slept with me last night. Chico, not the landlord.