My first Xmas overseas...in Athens, Greece...

I never would've guessed that Athens would be the first place I'd ever have a Xmas away from Mexico and my family and friends, at first I thought It'd be in London, but as I said in my previous post, it was just too cold...
I arrived in Athens, I believe, on the 23rd of December 1980, and got settled in the youth hostel, which is listed as the very 1st Youth Hostel of the YHA (Youth Hostel Association).

I remember the day I arrived quite clearly, due to my dilemma on the 'Magic Bus', and also because it was such a welcoming place run by very friendly people.

This Youth Hostel was located close to Syntagma square, downtown Athens, so it was the perfect location to be close to everything you want to see in Athens, and also at walking distance from the Acropolis (pictured above).

It was an old building and had a lot of character, it was also the most economical Y.H. I ever stayed throughout my entire backpacking life!
It was only about $1 a night, and it included breakfast!! OMG!!

So cheap... What was the downside?...
I think the beds...they were bunk beds, 2 or 3 in every room and the spring-base of each bed was so worn out that they all bent drastically, so I had the bed above me nearly on my face... but who cared... it was only $1 USD!!

I could've stayed there longer, but you are only allowed to stay up to 5 nights, at least back in those days.
So I figured, I'd stay there for Xmas and then head down to Israel, which I did.

Anyway, that first day I had a look around the square and saw the change of guards in front of the Hellenic Parliament in Syntagma Square (see video below). It was an interesting experience I'd never seen before, I didn't even know they did that in Greece...

So, December 24th came about and we wanted to celebrate Xmas eve, as it is always celebrated in Mexico, so, I and another Mexican friend had a great Greek sandwich meal for Xmas dinner at the hostel and then we decided to head out to a bar with some of the other guys who were staying at the same place.  

We found a great wee bar just a couple of blocks away, so we went in, my friends started ordering drinks and, up until then, I had refused to drink alcohol, so I was just going to order a Coke at the bar...

Then the bartender said "Where are you from?" Mexico I said, then she quickly pointed at a bottle of 'TEQUILA Cuervo', sitting on the shelf. and she said, then you must like Tequila, right?
I wasn't going to look bad saying "No, I don't drink" so I lied and said "Sure", ok, she kept on... "so you'll have Tequila, right?"... she said... Well...why not...

My very first shot of Tequila ever, in a Greek bar in Athens, served by an Egyptian bartender...go figure!

I tried to remember how people did the 'Tequila thing' back in Mexico, I'd never tried it before, with the lime and salt and all that, so I faked it and... down it went!
UUUOOOPAAAH! As they say in Greece....I think I felt my eyes pop out...

Then I had another one and then another...not sure at that stage how many more because the bartender said, "the next  one is on the house"... not sure how I paid or how many free shots I had.
I was drunk before I knew it... for the first time in my life...

My Mexican friend found me and together we zigzagged back to the Y.H. which by that time was closed! Yup, there was a curfew and we were supposed to be back by 11 pm...it was way past that!

What to do? 
We walked back and stumbled across a little hotel, we went in and somehow we managed to get a room, way more expensive than the Y.H. but we had no choice...

The next day I had a terrible hangover, my first ever... and everything was closed, of course, December 25th in a Greek Orthodox country...nevertheless, we decided to go up to the Acropolis with my head about  to explode....the streets were empty, and couldn't even find anything to eat...then, after getting to the top of the hill, we discovered that it was closed for the public holiday...what?...No way!

Well, what a first Xmas overseas that was!
Was it an unforgettable Xmas?
​It sure was....

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?
​
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)
​
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...
​
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!"...
​
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...
​
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!
​
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...
​
Just take a deep breath and get on with it...
#mexikiwi 

My first time in a Kibbutz, Israel...January 1981.

Sometime while I was beginning to plan my very first backpacking adventure I heard from a friend who had Jewish friends in Mexico about the Kibbutz, I'd never heard of that before, and probably you hadn't either until now... So let me tell you a little bit about it...

A Kibbutz is a collective community which is primarily based on agriculture. There are many Kibbutzim (plural for Kibbutz) in Israel, there are about 250 still active today...although things are changing to some degree for what I've heard...

These mini communal villages work their land and many of them have cows, chickens and artificial fishponds for commercial fishing and some run some type of industry as well, it is quite impressive what they do there in reality.
These Kibbutzim are run by the members of each Kibbutz, who organize manage and share the workload for the benefit of their community. It is a good example of what a socialist society model should look like...we could say.

All live in modest housing and don't lack anything you'd want to live a relatively good life in any modern society. (in my opinion)

It is nearly a utopia, where all work, including the elderly while they still can, and the young ones go to school or daycare, where the local ladies look after the kids while their parents are out there working...
There's practically no need for money while you are there as everything is provided for you and your family, clothing, housing, entertainment, and of course plenty of food.

All get up early to start working, according to their own working rosters and meet for meals in the huge communal dinning room at specific times, where there's usually a self service buffet, you can eat all you want and there's usually great freshly cooked food for all. They cook in large quantities but they cook for their own families so they care about what they cook and eat. Mostly fresh produce from their own kibbutz or the kibbutzim nearby. 

On top of that most houses have small kitchenettes in case you want to have something extra after hours...
and on Friday night, everyone cleans up and dresses up for Shabbat Dinner!
They set the tables with nice cutlery and white table cloths and you get served a special meal at your table, with wine (not great and too sweet but...) and with some special bread called Challah Bread...so delicious! 

​All families including their kids come to dinner well dressed and they say a little prayer and light up the Shabbat Candles before dinner is served... Shabbat starts at sunset on Friday and ends on Saturday at sunset and nobody works, except when live stock needs minding, like milking the cows, that never stops...

The working week would then start on Sunday morning...that was a bit strange at the beginning but you get used to it after a while...
Well, I guess you have now a basic idea about what a Kibbutz is... but there's much more to it.

To me it all sounded 'hard to believe' when I heard about it for the first time, I just couldn't believe such places existed nowadays...so, I was extremely curious to learn more about them...

Then I was told they accepted volunteers from all over the world to go and work there and live a "Kibbutz experience" and learn some new skills in exchange for food and accommodation, you just had to be healthy and fit enough to do some physical work and be between 18-30 years of age and had some basic English, as they would talk to you in English...

Hey, that's me! I said, I've got to check it out....
So, that was actually the main reason why I wanted to go to Israel in the first place....

After arriving in Tel-Aviv and spending that 'New Year's Eve' at the Youth Hostel, watching the BLUES BROTHERS movie, I went down to the Kibbutz Organization Office, where you can apply to volunteer in a Kibbutz...

I think I paid a small fee, just a few dollars and had a quick medical test...I passed!
I filled out a form and they said right away...
"OK, we have a place for you, how long would you like to stay? It is a minimum of 1 month" and I said...
Yup, one month's good for me... (I actually ended up staying for 3 months!)
Then I asked, when can I go? thinking I may have to wait a week or two...
"Now!" The man said with a big smile on his face, "they are eagerly waiting for you!"
Cool stuff!

They gave me directions on how to get there by bus from Tel-Aviv. 
It was a 2 hour or so ride by bus all the way to a small town called Beit-Shean, at the North of Israel close to the Jordan River Valley and 15 minutes from the Sea of Galilee. 
"Once you get to that town, ask around, there are some some buses that go from there to your Kibbutz or you can walk it from there or hitchhike, it's only about 2 kilometres from there"... they said...
Excellent! 

I went back to the Youth Hostel, picked up my stuff which I'd left there and went straight to the bus terminal in Tel-Aviv...there were hundreds of "Egged Buses" (the largest transportation company in Israel) and there were hundreds of young soldiers there too, going somewhere...by bus!? I wondered why...

It was a bit hard to find the right bus but I found it and got on my way to my kibbutz...NEVE-EITAN... 

It was an interesting ride as I was travelling inland within Israel, passing through some great sights, some new developments and also some interesting looking old towns...and I was blown away by how green it all was!
It was meant to be pretty dry arid land, basically as it hardly rains there, but they had developed the land and turned it into fertile fields through irrigation...I was witnessing something special...a transformed dessert into productive fields!

The bus was a Mercedes Benz, quite modern, and super clean...and I happened to be seated next to a young soldier who was carrying his gun, a rifle...without the bullet clip...I was a bit nervous at first, why is this guy and other soldiers travelling by bus?

So I asked, what's the story?
He said, "I'm going home for the weekend and so are the others, we get some time off during our 3 years of military service"...and why take the gun with you? and he said, "We are given our own gun when we start and we are responsible for it and cannot lose it, if we do we may go to jail"...

Yup, they do take their national defense quite seriously, specially as a country that has been in some heavy  conflicts since 1948...
The boys get to do 3 years of compulsory military service and the girls 2 years...
To them, it is all normal, to me a bit too much and I was just trying to digest that ...

After a long ride to Beit-Shean, I started making my way on foot down to my Kibbutz but decided to hitch a ride on the back of a Ute (a mini pick up truck)...it turned out to be a member of my kibbutz, lucky me!

On arrival I went in looking for the volunteers' leader to get me set up...and found her in the kitchen, her name was Dudda... an interesting lady in her 30s with extremely curly red hair... and she said.
"Shalom Hector, welcome to Neve-Eitan I was waiting for you, where are you from?" I said Mexico...
"Oh, Mexikani... (Mexican in Hebrew) we've never had anyone from Mexico here before, so glad to have you here, let me show you to your house and room", we walked through the beautifully landscaped gardens, no one was around, they were all out there working somewhere, we went past several houses then she walked me to a house towards the end of a path and she said...
"Here we are, welcome to your home... This is your room, you can take one of the beds and here's the shower and the toilet is at the other end"... there were 2 beds, my room-mate was yet to arrive...

"You can unpack and get yourself set up and then come back to the dinning room to have a chat and we'll get you set up for work and all that, good?"
Yup, no problem...

There were some folded clean sheets on top of my bed, which I made right away, not sure why, but maybe that would sort of make it official that that was my bed...the other bed was empty...
​
I unpacked and put my clothes in a small wardrobe and took a look around the room, there was a small window at the back of it, with some thin curtains covering it and shutters outside to completely block the sun if you wanted...it was clean and spacious...

I sat on a chair we had in the room took a deep breath and I said to myself...
Welcome to 'My First Home Away From Home'...and headed back to the dinning room...

Shalom Dudda! Where to from here?
​More on this on coming posts...

When I was growing up I started thinking about travelling, not sure when it actually started happening but somehow I knew I wanted to explore the world.

It might have been while watching a TV series called The Time Tunnel, an American science-fiction TV series, written around a theme of time travel adventure (1966-67). I was 7 years old and dreaming was right at hand and limitless... 
These 2 guys (Tony & Doug) would walk into a Tunnel and traveled in time to a different location and time, always ended up in some incredible places and took part in some historical moments, like in World War II or anything like that.
I was always fascinated by the whole thing and used to love watching it on our Black and White TV...
I always wondered what it would be like to travel to remote places, and walk the streets where things took place, especially in ancient cities or villages.
Anyhow, as soon as I turned 18 I got my first Passport, Oct 1978
Since then, I started travelling and filling up my passports with stamps from different countries and, every time I see them and take a look inside to view the stamps, I do a bit of Time Travel.
They are, let's say, my "Time Tunnels".
Now, since I gained a second Citizenship in New Zealand I've also obtained a Kiwi Passport. I have had so far 10 Mexican Passports and 2 Passports from NZ, and they have taken me to some amazing places, some of which I'll describe in the following posts... 
#MexiKiwi