Bienvenidos a México

To make our way into Guadalajara Centro we caught the bus near San Jose del Tajo RV Park, had a free-wheeling ride on the ring road, then transferred to the subway.  (Well, it's a surface train mostly, but let's not split hairs.)

We boarded the train at the end of the line and there was a mad scramble for seats with not enough to go around.  I was tapped on the shoulder and directed to a seat.  Then, to my surprise, a young man reached out to Jim and gave him his seat a couple of places away from me.  This struck me as unusual.  Surrendering a seat to a woman is a fairly common occurrence and, since the person giving it up to me was several decades younger, I was happy to accept with thanks.  But offering a seat to a man?  For a second or two I sized Jim up.  Was he looking ancient and decrepit?  Did that dash through the 4-storey pedestrian overpass do him in?

As the train reached cruising speed and the motion steadied, the young man came and stood in front of Jim.  He was about 30, neatly dressed and held a backpack to his chest. He said to Jim, in  perfect English, "I didn't give you my seat because you are an old man.  I gave you my seat because you are a guest in my country."  My eyes filled with tears.  The young man and his friend were teachers.  They talked to Jim through the entire twenty minutes of the journey about Mexico, tourism, the country's problems, its image abroad and their own lives.

They asked Jim what he liked best about Mexico.  He said, "The history, the scenery and the people."  Then he corrected himself.  "Excuse me, I said that wrong.  The best thing about Mexico is its people."