Day One—The Soul of Zihua

Up at 3AM this morning. Left a world of cold white at 6:30 and hit the almost-100-degree-warmer ground here in Zihua at 11. Unpacked and got everything ship shape at our place before heading down to Paty's for a much-anticipated lunch with sea and sand.

From there, it was off to La Comercial to stock up on provisions. Grabbed a cab back to La Ropa, where our driver, Martin, dropped us at our lodging's rather obscure back door. I jumped out to open the locked gate and then immediately started grabbing bags out of the trunk and lugging them in. As Martin drove away, Sally asked, "Where's your backpack?" Um-m-m…well, in the back seat of the cab of course, right where I left it. And Martin was long gone.

I managed to remain pretty calm for a guy who might just have lost his camera, some vital meeds, some keys…and our passports. At Sally's urging, I hustled down to the La Ropa taxi stand and asked the choferes' advice. All I had to go on was our driver's name, Martin, and the fact that he moved up here from Acapulco six years ago. I'd been too busy with bags, tipping helpers, finding small bills for the fare and chatting with Sally to even notice much about his appearance or his cab number.

The taxistas all agreed my best bet was to return to La Comer and hope Martin would come back for more fares there. A nice young driver named Alejandro offered to take me. We asked everyone around the main entrance if they knew Martin; no one did. I asked if they couldn't put out a call on the radio for Martin to call in, but I was told that many of the taxis that serve La Comer don't have radios. But Alejandro and a couple of other guys made a few phone calls. Coming up empty, Alejandro took me across the street to the UTAAZ dispatch center.

Meanwhile, I'd called Sally and asked her to sit out by the gate where Martin had dropped us off in case he'd found my mochila and come back looking for us.

Several of UTAAZ staffers patiently listened to my dilemma, but without a cab number, they said, chances were slim we'd find Martin. UNLESS, one of them said, the Comer caught us on one of their security cameras. Brilliant! So we went back to La Comer, found the security chief, and watched as two young ladies started playing back the videos from about the time we'd been there. After about ten minutes I blurted out, There's Sally…and me…and Martin…and taxi number 0126!

Alejandro put out a call for anyone who'd seen 0126, and meanwhile figured the best place to find him might be in el centro. As we approached Kyoto Plaza, Alejandro suddenly blurted, "There he is!" He was headed for La Ropa, now with us in hot pursuit. We lost him though, and Alejandro figured the best strategy was to park along the La Ropa Scenic Highway and just wait for him to come back to us. After a few minutes there he was. We jumped out and flagged him down.

Martin had my backpack right there on the seat beside him. He'd just run back to our place looking for us. He looked so relieved…but not as much as I was!

For every tale we hear of someone who gets cheated, robbed or otherwise taken for a ride around here, we feel there are enough like ours today to easily outweigh them.

And, though I can't prove cause and effect, I'm certain that all that kindness and good fortune I encountered today was, by no small measure, enabled by my own attitude and expectations. For, as Sally and I discussed afterward, the reason I never really panicked was that I truly believed that people would do the right thing. And they did.

God, I love this place!
P.S. If you see them, please patronize Martin (taxi 0126) and Alejandro (taxi 0645)

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