It was a little over 2 years since I had taken my last international flight. 1 March 2020, the day I flew to New York on a project, my dream destination. It wasn’t my dream destination then. It became my dream destination in the hindsight. I tried hard to get that project. I had displayed courage. I reached out directly to the boss of the Vice President of our division. Within 10 days of my speaking to the Senior VP, I got the project, booked the tickets, got the invitation letter, and landed in the US (from India). The project was for 2 months and so was my planned stay, except that COVID happened. I came back to India on 21st March 2020. From 22nd March, the Indian government banned the landing of any international flight on Indian soil and the rest is history.
I was excited at the prospect of taking an international flight again – going to a new place, experiencing new people, and becoming a bit wiser. I was going to travel solo. My first solo trip was in 2018. I went to Vienna, Salzburg, Zurich, and Lenggries (a village in Bavaria). I have always travelled solo outside India. Within India, I haven’t travelled much.
Solo travelling makes you confident, and if you are any less weird than I am, it also gives you a lot of friends. If you’re as weird as me, you know the pain. But as fancy as travelling solo sounds, the fear is real. You are responsible for every single thing. There is nobody to depend upon, you must solve your problems. At the same time, being alone also makes you realise your shortcomings. You know exactly when you need help.
Traveling solo to Europe and USA is one thing and to Mexico another. With no offence to any place, I was travelling from India. My guards are always up. I took a business class flight, for the second time in my life. It was akin to a 4-star hotel. I was well-fed and I slept like a log.
There is also a sense of insecurity you have when you get luxuries as a middle-class person. The 10-year-old kid sitting next to me on the first flight seemed more of a natural at using the different amenities, while I played around with controls and reclined my seat back and forth. I wanted to strike a conversation with him, but he didn’t seem interested. Did he not find me worthy of his time or was he shy?
On the second flight, I had taken the upper deck and it was business class at a whole new level. Middle-class kids study hard and go to good colleges to experience these luxuries only to realise that they are shallow. Or maybe not. Maybe all these luxuries are exactly what some people want in their lives, and what’s wrong with it?! To each his own.
As I stepped on the Mexican soil, I was reminded of Shantaram, even though there were stark differences. Gregory Roberts had escaped from an Australian prison as a terrorist on a fake passport. I had rightfully come to Mexico on a business project with a genuine passport. My struggles in Mexico would be first-world problems whereas Shantaram was all about survival. I was excited about what Mexico had in store for me. But it is Gregory Roberts who has encouraged me to document my experiences. Shantaram is an inspiration.
I cleared the immigration, collected my luggage, and moved out to take a cab to the hotel, except that nobody wanted to serve me. You need Spanish to get through most things in Mexico, and the airport cab service is one of those many things.
Two kiosks of the same cab service provider quoted different prices, the difference being the payment method – one of them allowed me to pay by card and the other strictly wanted cash. I didn’t have pesos. The difference seemed too high to justify the Merchant Discount Rate. I was scared at the prospect of getting robbed.
I went to another service provider, who after much negotiation, told me that she had no cabs. Apparently, all the cabs left during the discussion we had using hand signs, google translate, and calls with a friend and the hotel reception. As we were discussing, a big queue formed behind me, everybody wanting to take cabs. Somehow, I felt that she told the cab numbers to everybody except me.
I stood in one corner of the airport in a foreign country at 10:30 in the night wondering if I should accept the over-priced cab or if I was going to sleep at the airport that night. I realised how comfortable it is to be in India. My mind wandered to a friend of mine, who had come from Germany to India in 2019 on a project. He was also travelling for business except that he came from Germany, and I came from India. Things are not all organized in India and a lot works on jugaad. I never thought how difficult it was for him. He was in fact duped by a local in India for Rs 6,000 and I had laughed at that incident. How inconsiderate! Sometimes, we only realise the other person’s pain when we go through something similar ourselves. Is that why men at the top don’t make the world better for women? Do they need to experience the pain of being a woman first-hand? But my friend never told me if he found it difficult. Maybe he didn’t want to appear like a cry baby, but haven’t all the protests made it clear how difficult society is for women? Is it just about the lack of first-hand experience or lack of any desire to see women rise? But women will rise and take over. It is just about time.
I wondered if the end would justify the journey. Would my experience in Mexico City compensate for the price I was paying and will have to pay going forward? I didn’t know and I don’t know yet. Time will tell. But now that I am here, I must make the most of it.
The people at the counter didn’t speak English and a passer-by offered to help. When you’re a lone woman with big bags in a totally new place, you doubt the intentions of even the well-meaning individuals. It doesn’t matter whether the place is rated safe or not. And here I stood in Mexico, with the sight of nobody from the Indian sub-continent around, in a country where I didn’t understand them, and they didn’t understand me. I felt uncomfortable in my stomach. I don’t think it is my fault though, it is the fault of the system we have been provided, where a woman never feels safe.
With some assistance from the hotel and primarily from my friend, I could finally manage a cab at a reasonable price. The hotel room is pretty, and even after a smooth ride back to the hotel, it took me 2 hours to feel better and finally go to bed.