The summer after we were married, we decided to go to Mérida, on the Yucatán peninsula in Mexico, to study Spanish for a month. We lived with a family with a wonderful abuela who cooked our meals. We hung out on the zócalo where we bought hammocks. And we studied. On the weekends, we escaped the city and visited some of the Aztec sites on the way to the coast where it was cooler.
I tried to be a good sport, but I was a very reluctant student. My Spanish had a French accent carried over from my undergraduate studies. I lasted maybe a week in my classes before quitting. My husband (P) lasted two more before we came up with the idea of escaping to the mountains of Chiapas where we could enjoy the old colonial town of San Cristóbal de las Casas. It would be our romantic getaway in an exotic place.
I don't remember the details of our travel, but P handled it. We would take the overnight train west, up the coast then a bus into the mountains. We packed our hammocks and travel books and all. I was particularly proud of my L.L.Bean duffle suitcase with leather trim and all the zipper compartments that P had given me the Christmas before. It had a place for everything: my underwear and socks here, my reading material there, my toiletries and medicines in their own place. Our life together was a journey and this suitcase was a symbol of our intention to travel long and far.
We bid our host family "adiós" and made it to the train station before the midnight departure. P had booked a first-class compartment for us. Our romantic getaway was about to start.
The sleeper car was the last on the train which was backed into the station and so was the first car we came to as we walked out onto the platform. There was a crowd gathered around the conductor with quite an animated discussion going on. As you know, my Spanish wasn't/isn't that good, but I did pick up a word or two. One was "sow-oo-nah", "sauna"? P was able to pick up that the A/C in the car wasn't working and it was a bit hot inside. This was a well designed modern car with windows that didn't open. There would be only the ventilation from open doors at the ends of the car. After more discussion and realizing that there was no repair help at that hour, we climbed aboard.
Our little room had the two seats that made into a bed. In the dark of the night, it wasn't too hot, but dawn came early and I remember the first ray of the sun striking our window. It was about to get a lot warmer.
I'm afraid that the sentiments in that compartment soon devolved into those expressed in the armed truce of the backseat of a family station wagon on a long cross country drive, "this is my space, that is your space and do not cross the line".
Somehow we made it and were freed from the train about noon. I don't recall much about what we did then, probably walked around feeling relieved.
It was time to board the bus. As we joined the waiting crowd, P seemed concerned that we not draw too much attention. How could we not draw attention? I was there with my L.L.Bean suitcase towering over the crowd with their bundles wrapped in cloth and machetes in tooled leather holsters.
"Keep quiet and take the first seat you can get." I struggled down the aisle to the next-to-last seat. P grabbed my L.L.Bean suitcase and tossed it overhead and we settled in. The bus pulled out, made it through the town and started climbing up the winding mountain road.
After we had been on our way for a while, there was a stir going on with the men sitting behind us. There was a cry which P later translated, "What is this pink sh*t?". I looked back with horror as I realized that there was indeed pink liquid streaming down from the rack overhead. The glass bottle of PeptoBismol in one of the zippered pockets of my L.L.Bean suitcase had broken. It was dripping down the side of the bus onto this poor man's shoulder.
We were able to pull down the suitcase and retrieve a towel so that the fellow could clean himself up. And there was the paper bag containing the chalky, pepperminty glass mess. What to do with it? The fellow indicated the open window. How could we just through it out? Littering was against our middle-class upbringing. But it seemed like the best option. Out it went to the side of the road.
We finally arrived at our destination, found our lovely hotel, had dinner, strolled the zócalo. There we bought a couple of worry dolls, muñecas quitapenas, crafted with bits of handwoven fabric. You place them under your pillow before going to sleep and the dolls will take away your worries during the night.
I'd like to say that the story ends with "and they lived happily ever after", but something we ate or drank that day gave us a bug and we spent a whole week sick in our hotel room wishing that we had that bottle of PeptoBismol.
I can say that I traveled with my dear husband for many years with a pink stained L.L.Bean suitcase. And our marriage has lasted almost thirty years now.
