It was a rough night.  On my way back to the hotel, I’d stopped by Parque de Palapas and for some reason bought a bag of churros that scraped up the inside of my stomach and eventually led to acid reflux of the first magnitude.  At the same time, the arthritis that had spread to my elbow, and especially my wrist was in crisis mode, causing such pain I wanted to scream.  I lay flat on my back with my hand clutched to my chest like Bob Dole in the 1996 Presidential race, burned up by acid from within.

About nine o’clock I rolled out of bed and packed with one hand, using my arm and good elbow to bump into things that needed pushing.  When I was checking out there were three people checking in.  The way the hotel had been marketed on the web was deceitful, but it had been a functional place to crash, if you didn’t mind sharing it with a million ants, which I hadn’t.

Walking to the bus station, there was a big accident in the middle of the road.  The whole front end had been shorn off one car and from a distance it looked like a corpse.  The ambulance was just arriving as I walked past.  Where were the victims?

There were a lot of backpackers at the station on this morning.  Considering I spent my whole life as a budget traveler, I hadn’t spent much time with backpackers.  In my twenties, I’d been working seasonal jobs around the States and hadn’t done much traveling outside the country.  In my thirties and forties, when I started teaching, I took a lot of big trips, but tended towards cheap hotels.  Oddly, now that I was in my fifties and unemployed all over again, I’d spent more time in hostels than ever, friendly to all but not trying to hang out with the kids.  Travelers, tourists, it doesn’t matter to me.  I try to stay away from them all.

The bus to Merida was four hours.  There was a plump little woman next to me who spent the first hour texting.  Then she turned to sleep, digging her rump into my side.  We arrived at the station around three in the afternoon.  I tried to get some information on a bus to Uxmal.  It ended up being a hassle.  Without phone service, I didn’t know how far away my hotel was.  I figured out that the north and south streets were even and the east and west ones were odd.  They were narrow and crowded, and difficult to navigate with my suitcase and only one good hand. 

By the time I reached the hotel I was feeling pessimistic about everything, but then the room turned out to be nice, high, and spacious, with a good view of the cathedral.  There was also a swimming pool, which though I doubted I would use, still added a touch of class to my adventure. 

I hadn’t picked a rune yet that day, so I got out the bag and drew one stone.  It was Daggaz, the rune of light and hope.  That was a needed omen.  Perhaps, things would turn out for the best.  I decided to take its picture right there, on the counter across from the bed.  It seemed like the TV and the AC were both working.  What else could I possibly need?