I stepped into the elevator and pressed the “PH” button. Penthouse. We had been instructed to meet on the topmost level of the hotel for group orientation after gorging on fresh fruit, scrambled eggs and sugary pastries for breakfast. A cloudy sky and a cool breeze greeted us on the exposed rooftop. I started to familiarise myself with the faces of the people I would be getting to know over the next few weeks as our tour manager proceeded to give us an overview of the day’s agenda. After heading down to the lobby, we began filing onto our coach, eager to embark on our tour of the city. Many of us attempted to capture images of the scenery that seemed to continuously escape our view as we drove through the bustling streets. Mexico City unfolded before our eyes, and at each turn, we were captivated by new sights. I kept my face pressed against the window out of fear that I might miss something; if you blinked, you certainly would. We had a brief stop outside Mexico City’s Metropolitan Cathedral to take a group photo before wandering over to Zócalo - the city’s main square and political hub - to stretch our legs (and admire the stunning architecture, of course). Soon enough, we were on route to Xochimilco, where we would be treated to a Trajinera boat ride through the districts winding canals. Mindfully watching our steps, we clambered onto the somewhat rickety, yet brightly-painted vessels, and began cruising through the murky waters. Some members of the group indulged in a few bottles of cerveza while we observed some of the locals paddling their boats towards us in an attempt to sell their wares. We agreed to allow a mariachi band that floated by on board, and we enjoyed a song or two before they went on their way, no doubt on the lookout for another opportunity to perform for tips. Still well before lunch, it was time to move onto our next destination – Coyoacán. As someone who studied art history, I was particularly excited to learn that this was where Frida Kahlo’s former home (now a museum honouring her life and art) was located. Sure enough, the building’s striking, cobalt-blue façade appeared before us, as did the lengthy line of tourists queuing for entry. We began making small talk amongst ourselves as we wandered about the neighbourhood. It wasn't long before my travelling companions learnt about the misfortune with my luggage, and it was heart-warming for them to extend their sympathies and offers of assistance. I certainly felt less sorry for myself knowing that I was surrounded by such a genuine group of people. Eventually, we were put into pairs in preparation for a round of introductions that would commence once we were back on the coach. My buddy, Naomi, very kindly spotted me for a chocolate filled churro and one delicious coffee before we ventured into the local marketplace. We squeezed our way through the busy arrangement of stalls, some nearly stacked to the ceiling with tropical fruits, others beautifully cluttered with handicrafts and souvenirs. This scene became all too familiar during our travels, as did the persistent pushing of sales from those operating the market stands. Once again, we were asked to board the coach so that we could begin our journey to the archaeological site of Teotihuacán. As we navigated the ruins on foot, I think we were all mesmerised by the array of stone temples laid out before us and their intricate details. I lost count of how many stairs we climbed that day to reach the tops of both the Pyramid of the Moon and the Pyramid of the Sun, but the view was undeniably breath-taking from above. After spending the afternoon exploring and enjoying a buffet lunch, we headed back to our hotel for a bit of free time. Tonight we would get the chance to experience Mexico City’s nightlife. Soon after dinner, we crammed ourselves into seatbelt-less cabs and sped off to a local nightclub. Upon entry, we decided to share bottles of tequila and vodka, accompanied by a variety of mixers. There was a live band playing songs you’d likely hear on the top 40 countdown. It wasn’t long before we made our way to the dancefloor, where some of us attempted to salsa and partake in other shenanigans, like trading items of clothing for glasses of champagne on stage. We danced into the early hours of the morning, many of us calling it a night by 3am. My head was still pounding as I tried to make myself comfortable in bed. I set my alarm; in a mere few hours, we would be starting another day of adventures. I closed my eyes and hoped that I wouldn’t be feeling too worse for wear for our flight to Merida in the morning.
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B is:A 26-year-old tea drinking writer of words trying to find her place in the world.
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