Bye-Bye Bike, Hello Happiness

So I know I’ve been AWOL, I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I’m apologising to the general internet who decidedly aren’t reading my little blog, but I’m sorry anyway. The last couple of weeks have been crazy! Crazy good and crazy bad. But you know, it’s all in the balance I guess.

My last post talked about a bad day and a few struggles I’d been having. Needless to say, those struggles didn’t just go away. I’ll be honest, for awhile there I was a weepy, annoying stranger. Travel does that to you sometimes and as much as I hate being an emotional wreck, it happens.

ANYWAY. I was right on the cusp of kicking myself up the bum and getting myself back out there! And then all sorts of stuff happened.

Monday last week started out great. I got up early (for me) and was having a productive morning when the wifi went off! All attempts at getting it on again (read: pressing the on/off button aggressively for 10 minutes) didn’t work. After speaking to The Mexican, who was distraught at not having access to Netflix that evening, he sent me to Telmex to pay the bill. Now we had never actually received a bill, but apparently that isn’t a reason to not pay. Mexican logic people.

So, I packed my work stuff into a bag, checked google maps for the location and set off into town to pay. After 20 minutes of riding in 30 degree heat, the Telmex place was nowhere to be found. After exchanging very heated messages with The Mexican, I’m informed that google is wrong and the Telmex place is a 10 minute ride away. Oh, and the place shuts in 15 minutes. Yay!

I ride like a maniac with only a vague idea of where I’m going but I make it to the place with 8 minutes to spare. I go in, sweaty and irritated but determined, and explain to the lady (in Spanish!) that I want to pay my bill, but I don’t actually have a bill. I give her a piece of paper The Mexican told me to take with our information on it. So far, so good. I then ask if I can pay by bank card. She looks at me and asks me for proof of identity. I give her my UK licence. She does that annoying thing where they look at it, then at you, then at it, then at you….. and asks me for proof of residence. Long story short – no digital proof that  have is good enough and I’m sent away. FUMING. What kind of criminal goes to pay someone else’s internet bill?!

I inform The Mexican when I get outside who is arguable angrier than I am. He insinuates that I misunderstood what she was saying. “I know my Spanish is terrible BUT I KNOW WHAT SHE SAID” was my calm and collected reaction.

Feeling hot, bothered and ready to punch someone in the throat I peddled to Starbucks where I knew an oasis of air conditioning, coffee and wifi awaited. I parked my bike across the road, locked the padlock and basically ran into the safe, cool place.

Three hours later I emerge feeling cool, accomplished and decidedly hungry. I’d got my work done and it was home time. I saunter across the street to where there are now 15 bikes parked – and it’s gone. My bike – my beautiful bike! – has been stolen. At first I think I’ve misplaced it and go round in circles looking at all the different colours. It’s definitely not there.

Did I cry? Did I scream at a random passing taxi driver who was looking at me suspiciously? Nope. I laughed. Good God it was the last straw. In a state of possible delirium I walked home with a smile on my face.

Now, losing my lovely bike was a definite blow. I haven’t purchased a new one as I feel I’m still grieving (to The Mexican’s obvious confusion). Walking everywhere in 33 degree heat is getting old though so maybe I’ll get over it soon. However, In the almost 2 weeks since it was stolen, I have been stress free. I have no more f*cks to give. I’m all out.

The more people I told about my bike, the more people told me about the times theirs have been stolen too. Having a bike stolen seems to be a right of passage here. So at least I’m one step closer to becoming a local?


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