How long can one Kansan be lost on a bus in Mexico?

Well... let me kindly answer that for you. Four hours - yes, indeed - cuatro horas. But I desist... allow me to fill you in on the blanks.

Monday morning I went to the school with my host-mother, Fernanda, my first time riding el camion in Morelia. Everything went smoothly, we made it to Baden-Powell, I attended my first four classes - Gramatica, Practica, No Verbo, y Conversacion - found my way back to the house on one of the buses, and thought, "Hey, this is easy...!"

More fatal words were never spoken, I would hazard to guess.

I had orientation Monday night at 6:00 p.m. and managed to get off of my bus five blocks too early... not a problem if you know where you're going with a map - a slightly larger problem if you have no idea where you are, you don't have a map, and everyone that keeps telling you where the street you are looking for is located is wrong. After walking for an hour and a half, I was finally pointed in the right direction by a kind lady, and made it to orientation at 6:30... not too much of a problem, and everyone understood.

I remember telling myself, "You can make it home, now... you've gotten 'lost' once and you can find your way." Right. Well, let me just say that there is not just ONE route for the buses in Morelia - oh, no... there are more like fifteen, and if your driver feels like it, you take a shortcut. Once again, not a problem if you know where you're going, but... well, I didn't. AND... apparently I cannot read, because I got on a bus that circled the ENTIRE city - that's right, I gave myself a pat on the back for that piece of logic - instead of the bus clearly marked ISSTE - which is what I am supposed to take. I thought I was going in the wrong direction, but thirty minutes later I was sure of it - I was even more sure when I asked the lady sitting next to me if this was the bus for Isste and she dropped open her mouth, exclaimed "Mama mia... no, no, no!" (I know it sounds cliche, but she did do this...), then shared a long-suffering glance with her daughter across the aisle that said, "Stupid tourist... I hate when they ask dumb questions like this... they should be shot."

Ah, well... so I rode a little longer until I realized that we were just going further and further outside the city... I don't know where that particular bus stopped, but it wasn't going back to al centro de Morelia. So, I hopped onto another bus heading back into the city [time elapsed: 2 hours], back to where I had started, and found the bus marked ISSTE. All was well... I thought.

But it was dark, and scary, and the wind was howling, and... well, it was dark at least, and I completely missed the corner I was supposed to get off at - it was now 10:30, and the last bus route is at 11:00. My bus driver kindly tried to help me find my stop, even going back over the route once more with just me as the passenger - I could not find it. And... (gulp, swallow) I stupidly did not have my address with me... it was on my computer.

So, we headed back to al centro (my fourth time in one day, I might add, and from the house I am staying at to the center is a 30 minute ride), started the route again, and as my bus driver drove about 5 mph, I frantically searched for the familiar Corona sign that marks my stop - and joy! Happiness! Almost tears, but I woman-fully held them in...

I was home... I had started at 7:15 and made it at 11:25... I know you're making fun of me Dad.

I determined never to make the same mistake again.

Tuesday morning there was a protest being held at al centro, the roads were blocked off five to ten blocks in advance, and the buses were going a different route. I walked twenty blocks (following my map) to make it to the school, and arrived late.

I officially hate buses. Forever.

p.s. (The pic is blurry because I was about to get run over... perdon, por favor.)