Amistad Internacional

8/10/2019

Still sore and angry with myself from my repeated and unwelcome encounters with the ground the previous day, I loaded back up and set off from Estacion Wadley towards San Luis Potosi, thanking the heavens that I hadn't damaged my luggage racks and mounts. My tweaked handlebars made for some interesting moments navigating the dirt road my hostel was on, but once I got back onto pavement and up to speed, I adjusted quickly. I'd thought the lack of a windshield was going to be an annoyance, but I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it; besides allowing vastly more cooling air to flow past me and through my jacket, not looking through a large piece of plastic actually made the Twin feel much smaller than its loaded weight of close to 600 pounds and tall suspension would otherwise indicate. I was reminded of how much I enjoy "naked" bikes, and the close connection with both the road and the bike itself that an unimpeded view of the world fosters. I also crossed the Tropic of Cancer en route, which means very little in practice, but was something of a reminder that this long way south still has an awfully long way to go.

Although I was still riding through the desert, the falling temperatures and rising mountains told me I was heading towards the highlands of Mexico. The scenery was gorgeous, even with the sun out the temperature was perfect, and as I left mining country, the roads got curvy. So, I had a little fun.

Blogspot's video size limit is laughably small, so watch here if you like.

I made it to San Luis Potosi with several hours of daylight to spare, where I was met by my host Pao and her family; another Couchsurfing connection, I would be staying in a quite nice room that I had more or less to myself, something I have come to consider a luxury on my trip. Pao gave me directions to the historic center of San Luis and recommended I go see it first thing. Her advice was spot on; the Centro Historico contained several gorgeous colonial-era buildings, along with a beautiful theater/opera house and cathedral (which happened to have a wedding going on while I was wandering around).
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 San Luis Potosi's architecture and historic center were certainly beautiful, but for me, the best was still yet to come. I was able to get an hour or two of work on the bike, in which I was able to bend the handguards back into shape and get the handlebar realigned in its mount, though I found to my annoyance that it was, in fact, actually twisted just enough to notice, but not enough to affect the handling. Still, I was able to fully turn the bars in both directions again, something the mangled guards had prevented since my falls. As I was finishing up, my host came out and announced that we were going to be spending the evening with several friends of hers and that I had little choice in the matter. I accepted the offer, happy for the opportunity to socialize a bit; though I'd had some time to chat with my hosts in previous locations, my human interaction on the trip thus far had been limited to the few words exchanged with gas station cashiers and restaurant staff, plus an ever-growing number of people curious about the trip after seeing my loaded-down bike. Truth be told, I was craving some social interaction with people my age.

We were picked up shortly thereafter by Pao's boyfriend, and made our first stop at one of SLP's cervecerias artisinales, where I enjoyed a genuinely excellent Mexican lager brewed in-house, and lively conversation about our various international travels; it turned out that my host had lived in upstate New York for a year, and had greatly enjoyed the opportunities to explore New York City. Moving on, we met up with several others at an American-themed bar called Rockabilly that, were it not for the live band singing in Spanish, could have been plucked whole off Lower Broadway in Nashville and deposited 2,000 miles away. While I was fully enjoying my ever-expanding journey into Mexico, a few reminders of home never hurt. The others we met were a group of diverse backgrounds, all of whom seemed to enjoy hearing the story of my travels thus far, and the plans of what was to come.

The group included Victor and Samuel, two doctors completing their five-year residencies in San Luis Potosi. I nearly fell off my chair when, after telling the group I was from Nashville, Victor mentioned the Predators and proclaimed his love of hockey, a taste acquired during a visit to Las Vegas while the Golden Knights had been on a playoff run. I had fully expected sports talk at some point, given the rabid popularity of soccer throughout Mexico, but I absolutely had not expected to find another hockey fan in a country where snow might be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I was similarly surprised when Samuel, hearing that I was American, switched from rapid Spanish to perfect, entirely unaccented English and continued our conversation without missing a beat. It turned out that he'd not only lived in Houston for two years, but had attended an American school in Queretaro, another city I planned on visiting, for most of primary and high school. In the course of a few minutes, I'd gone from an outsider to feeling like I'd known the people I was talking to for far longer than the short time we'd spent at the bar. Comparing notes on the Mexican and American medical systems with the two doctors was an enlightening experience, particularly given the vast difference in organization and scope of practice between emergency medical service practitioners in Mexico and the USA. We ended the night hours later on the roof of yet another friend's apartment, with the experience of getting briefly stuck in the apartment elevator doing nothing to dampen our spirits. My night in San Luis was by no means my first experience with Mexican hospitality, but it was the first time I felt like I'd built up genuine goodwill with the people whose country I was a visitor in. It felt like something of a turning point, one that took me from being a mere visitor and tourist to a genuinely welcome guest, and as I prepared to leave San Luis Potosi for Queretaro in the morning, I no longer felt the subtle rush that accompanies a journey into completely unknown territory. Even if I'd never laid eyes on the places I'd be visiting, I could go in knowing that I would almost certainly be welcome.