London to Athens, 3 days by Bus...

It seems crazy but back in 1980 there were no cheap flights, as there are now, however, there was something called the "Magic Bus".
It was advertised in the Youth Hostels in London notice boards as the most economical way to get to Athens, and it was. It only cost around 30 British Pounds. 
They said it was a great road trip and that it would be an unbelievable experience, and it certainly was!

First, I must tell you briefly about my arrival experience in London...May 17, 1980

After leaving Mexico I had no clue how things would unravel...
I landed in Houston and went on to get on my Pan Am flight to London...

We landed in London's Heathrow Airport, where a friend of mine from Mexico was supposed to be waiting for me with some friends he was staying with. They were going to take me to my Youth Hostel in Chelsea, it was a good plan as I had no clue what to do, however...things didn't quite work out as planned...

After I collected my luggage on arrival I proceeded to the passport control area, I queued up like everyone else and when it was my turn I went to the counter, feeling quite confident. 
I had been told in Mexico that I didn't need a Visa to travel to the UK and that I would be given a Visitor's Visa on arrival, sweet as, I thought...
Then the lady at the desk asked me for my passport and I handed her my Mexican Passport and she looked at me...
Then she asked, in a very strong Yorkshire accent, "how long are you planning to stay here? and How much money have you got?"
I couldn't quite understand her, so I said...what? with an innocent look on my face...and said, excuse me?
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She repeated what she said, and I still couldn't get it...so I only stared at her...
Then she asked me, very slowly..."Do - you - speak- English?" I smiled and replied, I do, Do you? I asked, sarcastically...
She didn't like that...

She, asked again, "how long are you planning to stay and how much money do you have?" and then said, "please show me your money"... 
I took out my Traveller's Cheques proudly, a total of $2,000 USD and said there you go...
I'd like to have a 6-month Visitor's Visa please, I said.
She looked surprised and asked, "are you intending to work in the UK?" 
I said promptly, no way, I'm on Holiday...

Somehow, she didn't like me and my answers, and she asked for assistance over the radio...
A man came and said, "follow me"...

I was taken into a "small interview room" where I was questioned for 3 hours...about the same, how long I was planning to stay and the money I had and my intentions for being there...
I stood my ground, a bit shaken by the interrogation, and said, - look I don't even know If I'll be here for only a week or 2, I just said 6 months to have flexibility... I was evidently quite naïve and didn't know about the problems they had with illegal immigrants in the UK...

Eventually, they gave in, they took my passport and stamped it, giving me a 6 Month Visitor's Visa, and sent me on my way...
(I have just taken a look at my very first passport...Yup, it's right there on page 13, by immigration officer 547, Heathrow.
it says...Leave to enter for six months. Employment Prohibited)

After that ordeal, my friend, unable to reach me or see me at the arrivals lounge had left, understandably, so I was left at the mercy of the famous London Taxi Cabs...as I was coming out of the airport a man said..."Taxi Sir?" 
Yup, thanks very much, I said..."Where to?" he asked, and I handed him the address for my Youth Hostel in Chelsea.
"Right Sir, not a problem," he said...

I was relieved that all that hassle was behind me, I had my visa, and I was in a classic Black London Cab!
How cool is that? I thought...

Until we arrived and he said, "That'll be 19 pounds Sir"...What?
I had no idea about the cost of Taxis or anything else and thanks to my dad, I was able to pay, he had just given me a 20-pound note as we said goodbye at the airport in Mexico...

Well, there you go I said to the driver, keep the change...
Well thank you, sir, enjoy your stay in London"...
Wow, that was some first experience and unexpected into the real world...


I had only been in London for about 5 days and, to be frank, the weather was horrible, the sky was grey every day and it was raining and freezing cold. Well, what could I expect, it was right at the beginning of winter so I shouldn't have been surprised, but being my very first backpacking adventure, I had no idea what to expect, truthfully speaking...

All I knew was that I was ready to head out for warmer weather and a more affordable place to hang out.
So, as I was going to head down to Israel at some stage, I figured I'd best be on my way sooner rather than later.

So, they said it'd take 3 days on the road, big deal, I thought...We'll enjoy the ride and the views and the scenery along the way while meeting some new people...it can't be that bad...
Well, as a matter of fact, it wasn't that bad at all! 

The journey was amazing, from the moment we went across the 'English Channel' by ferry the entire trip from then on was sensational and made some great stops along the way.

However, there was a challenge with the loo on the bus, so we had to wait till we got to the next toilet stop if we wanted to go and also some of the stops were in the middle of the night, which was rather inconvenient.
We'd have to make the most of each stop and eat something if we were hungry.
I did all right most of the way, until we got to what used to be Yugoslavia, where we made a stop in the middle of the night.
It was freezing outside and snowing...and as we got out of the bus at this "TruckStop" place and we could see that smoke was coming out of the chimney and something smelled good!

In we went and they had lots of burgers on the grill cooking for the customers inside, they looked amazing and without hesitation some of us ordered one right away. Inexpensive, hot and delicious!!

The perfect burger, I thought... until a few hours later back on the bus where my stomach started making noises I'd never heard before, or maybe I had, but they seemed louder than ever, and I had to control myself, the next stop was actually the terminal in Athens, so I figured I'd hold it in till then.

I had the sweats and was shivering like crazy.
I felt like I was ready to explode all over the bus as my big "Hello Athens, we made it here!"! 

But no, I managed to control myself for a while longer until we actually got to the Youth Hostel in Athens, where, before checking in or anything else I asked the dude at the reception desk...
"Excuse me, where's the loo?" .... well...
Helloooo Athens!
(Here's the road map we went through)

When I was in my early teens, we used to have our very own Mini Olympic Games...

Every Easter our whole family would go on holiday to some Bungalows in a small town near Mexico City, called Cuautla, and it was my most treasured holiday of the year.

​The weather was always perfect and we always spent 2 weeks at this place that could only compare with Fantasy Island (The TV show) where everything and anything could happen within the confinements of this mini village-like place.

This place was formed by some 25 Bungalows or cottages which were built right around some magical grounds...Green grass, beautiful trees, a great swimming pool and a volleyball court.

Many families would go there every Easter, usually the same ones, so it was like a yearly family get together.

I remember I was always rather excited to get there and catch up with my friends, which I only met there once a year.

Most families had kids of several age groups so we all had mates to hang around with and play with.
We played most of the time, sunbathed and swam in the usually freezing cold pool, and at night, we would sit in a circle and sing along to someone playing his guitar right under the moonlight, they were called "Lunadas", mostly organised by the older guys. 

All that was incredible, however, one thing that some of the parents used to organise was our "Mini Olympic Games", which got all of us involved in several competitions, running, walking, swimming, jumping, and all kinds of other sports that might be appropriate at that time.

I remember I used to take this quite seriously, as one does when you're a kid. Winning a place in the finals of anything didn't only mean winning at these games, it was like winning at the real Olympic games!

At the end of the games, we even had a Medal Ceremony, where the 1st, 2nd and 3rd place were named and stepped up to their chair or rock or whatever spot to get their medals. The medals were made of bottle tops, flattened and painted in Gold, Silver and Bronze...and they had a string so that we could wear them around our necks...

It was, in our innocent eyes and minds, moments of glory and we stood tall and proud when we won before our peers, and we'd smile and some would cry when people around us would clap and cheer.

What a Kodak moment that always was...
 

All of a sudden...I grew up...
I picked up an office job for a year after finishing High School, saved some money and set my sights on a wider world...

My backpacking adventures were about to begin...
It was a time in my life that I just could not believe it was happening... I was about to embark on something that would transform my entire life and had no idea how it would evolve...

That first BACKPACKING trip was to be my first TRUE adventure by myself...​and with my own money...
This was, let's say, my backpacking trial run for 1 year... 

​I had only $2,000 USD to my name, which I thought was quite a lot of money at that time, I had my essential clothes and toiletries in my backpack and a bunch of music cassettes together with my Sony Walkman in my carry-on bag...
I was in other words all set to conquer the real world...well, not quite...

I remember I was feeling quite confident, though I had no clue what I was going to do, see and learn, and was oblivious to the challenges I would face...

My family, Mum, Dad and sisters, took me to the airport and it was a totally surreal experience...not sure if I was excited or sad or neither, I all know is that I knew that I was ready to explore a new way of life and it was about to hit me right in the face as soon as I boarded that first Pan Am flight... Mexico City > Houston > London... (return ticket open for 12 months)
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As the plane took off I said to myself...
See you in a year Mexico... I hope I can make my funds last the whole year and that I find a way to survive out there in the world...

Let the adventures begin!
#MexiKiwi

Anita's shop...
This amazing picture brought back some wonderful memories of my childhood...

I'm standing here next to my older brother, who is 10 years older than I am and my Mum... a young well dressed mother of 6 (I'm the youngest of my family).

Dad must've taken this pic with his Pentax camera, he was so proud of it...
That car was his new, though second hand, Valiant 1965, in dark burgundy with nice white-face-lined tyres. He was always very proud of his cars, maybe I got my love for cars from my dad since I was little...

I remember when he arrived home with this Valiant... I was blown away at first sight...
I must've been about 8 or 10 years old... He had traded in the beautiful but ageing Ford station wagon...
This newer car was beautiful, with burgundy carpet and burgundy steering wheel and matching vinyl seats, in my eyes...a real beauty!

Anyway, I digress, this post is about the wee little shop right across the street from my house...
It was called "La Gaudalupana"... it was part of a house, as many shops are in Mexico, they had created a room with a separate iron rolling curtain facing the street, to open the shop to the public...
It was a tiny little shop with some basics for sale, like soft drinks, lollies, snacks, and some other bits and pieces...
The lady running the shop lived in this house, her name was Anita, or known to us as "Mrs. Anita"...
She used to have a temper, and would sometimes get annoyed at us if we were mocking around in front of her shop.

This was the shop where I had my first commercial interaction, it was the shop where I took my first few cents or pesos saved from my weekly allowance, what we called in Mexico "Domingos", and bought something. My allowance was $5 pesos each Sunday. 

My first time I might've bought proudly my favorite soft drink at that time, a so called "Chaparrita" and my favourite junk food corn chips, which I still love..."Fritos"...

I must've said..."How much is it?" probably proudly and a bit scared for the very first time, and handed over my coins to Mrs. Anita... she may have looked at me with that look like saying, you're a big boy now...

I was just beginning to learn the monetary value of things and what I could do with money...
I did it all by myself, probably with Mum watching from across the street...
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Mrs. Anita's shop was more than a shop, it was a meeting place for many...
I remember that there used to be a big rock, just outside the rolling iron curtain, which served as a mini bench for anyone wanting to sit there and enjoy their drink or snack... many of us sat there many a times, contemplating the day, and of course right across the street, looking at the house where I grew up....

Anita's shop was like 'the base' of our small tribe, a small group of friends I grew up with...
Primarily my next-door neighbours, Chucho, from across the street, and my friends Hector and Rodolfo, they lived to the left and right of our small and humble house on Petalo street... 

After school, we used to spend most of our childhood days playing on that peaceful street all kinds of games we had learned from older kids on the same street or some other games that we made up...

It was our world and nothing could stop us...except for our mums cry when it started getting dark...they'd shout out from wherever they were in their respective houses..."Get back in boys, it is getting dark!"...
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We'd normally let them do that 2 or 3 times before we finally got back into our homes and said our goodbyes..."see you tomorrow"...

The following day we'd do it all over again...and nothing else mattered...
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It was a magical childhood...

​It took me 10 years to get back on a horse... I was so afraid for so long...
Have you ever fallen off a horse, physically or metaphorically speaking? 

It is not always easy to get back on...here's my story...
When I was a young teenager I used to love going riding horses, so I constantly would ask my dad if he'd take me riding to a place not too far from home called Xochimilco, where some people would have horses for hire for riding around the local grounds and the forest surrounding the area.

My dad, now and again would give in, after my bugging him to take me, and would take me there on a Sunday. It was, I guess, it was a break for him too from the clutter of the workweek.
Whenever we got there, there were always a few guys with several horses and they would try to pitch their horses to the people passing by, saying things like... "Sir, sir, these are really nice and friendly horses, especially for kids. This one here is so docile and friendly and knows his way around the grounds, I'll give you a good deal.." 

Anyway, we'd always look at the horses and some of them looked tired and a bit scrawny, some looked like they hadn't eaten in a long time...and when we'd spot a good looking horse, not too big and not too small and ok looking, we'd ask for the hire price and dad would haggle for a good deal, a must in Mexico...got to haggle...

One day I got on this "docile horse" and went on riding it as always, then as we were heading down a path something spooked my horse and he bolted! Jumped over a fallen tree and my stirrups went off flying!
I was bouncing all over the place trying to stop the horse, pulling the reins left right and centre, shouting at the horse to stop awww... awww... awww... as they do in Mexico, I'm sure I didn't swear at all, just in case dad was nearby... then the horse jumped onto a road and headed towards I don't know where at what seemed a thousand miles an hour and then... the inevitable...I fell and I must've landed head first! (Helmets were non-existent in those days)
I lost consciousness and came to a while later in the arms of a woman who was sitting by a tree and we were surrounded by her family... her husband was furious and saying things I couldn't understand and then my dad and my eldest brother came about looking for me and then the man started telling my dad off, "how could you let your child go riding these animals on his own!?"

Anyhow...I was rushed to the hospital for a scan, no ambulance needed, we just got in the car and drove to the hospital and went straight to the A&E so that they could look at me immediately. They checked me out after a long wait and said I was OK and apart from a few minor scratches and bruises I was absolutely fine.

Needless to say, it was the end of my riding horses in Xochimilco, I didn't want to be near a horse for quite some time and even though we never talked about it I never asked dad to take me riding ever again...

I was probably around 15 years old at that time and it took me 10 years to get back on a horse again one day, when I was living in Israel back in 1985.
The kibbutz I lived in had a ranch up on the Golan Heights and they had horses there. One day at the ranch one of the kibbutz leaders said to me "You are Mexican, right? so you must know how to ride horses, right? ( I guess he'd only seen Mexicans in western movies) and I answered, sure, of course, I do.

Then he said "There, why don't you take that horse for a ride..." and there he was a beautiful looking horse looking at me in the eye, challenging me, like saying... "I dare you..."
I took a deep breath and went towards him thinking, yup, it is time to get back on the horse...I can't be afraid for the rest of my life... and as soon as I got on it was like I'd never been off the saddle ever!
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I was happy and the horse could feel that, we started gently and soon enough we were galloping around... OMG! I'd missed that ...

I was finally back on a horse and I felt like I could do anything from then on...

The moral of the story, I guess, is breaking fear barriers, especially after falling off a horse, metaphorically speaking or not, it is a must for anyone wanting to move forward in life, no matter what it is...
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Just take a deep breath and get on with it...
#mexikiwi