[The distinction between narration and description blurs. In the succession of events recounted we see what the other says, almost as if we were also perpetrators.]
The trip from Mexico to Brussels went without unexpected challenges. The biggest was getting out of Mexico, what with both Pavla and I being "illegal tourists" and Maco requiring a piece of paper at the airport, which was difficult for the authorities to produce because of computer problems and bureaucracy and security. It took a full three hours to sort out all of the above, and my fine for overstaying my welcome was 230 pesos.
As to the trip. We took a ferry to Playa del Carmen, a taxi to Cancun. We checked into our hotel with dog. They got my e-mail and were expecting all three of us. I was surprised. Then with dog, off to the shopping center to have him fitted with a travel crate. The sales clerk quoted a price 500 pesos more than what Pavla was originally quoted. We had him call the owner and verify. We got our price. Then he sold us a water-feeder-container thing probably meant for hamsters to strap to the crate. It was overpriced and when we tried it back at the hotel, it didn't work. Who won in the end?
With crate en route back to the hotel, the first taxi driver we encountered tried the same trick--gouge the gringos. We got out of the taxi once he quoted a price of 150 pesos for a ride that not a half hour earlier cost us 20.
The entry into the European Union was slick. Maco even wanted to get back into his crate after he got out. I guess he had some nice adventures down in cargo from Cancun. He had no accidents nor was he psychologically damaged by the experience, I guess. But it would have been different had I been the only one to handle him and all the papers, my ticket, visa, etc. Except for the psychological damage. That would have been mine. I really needed Pavla's help, and she mine.
We stayed in Brussels just down the street from NATO headquarters in the cheapest hotel we could find. It was easy. The info desk at the airport helped with complete and accurate details including how to leave stuff (e.g., dog travel crate) at the airport for our flight to the CZ the following day.
Whew, what a noticeable difference from Mexico. Not just the efficiency, but this neighborhood in Brussels was clean as a whistle, everything in working order, apparently--no stray dogs, trash, loose electrical wires . . . there were even sidewalks meant for pedestrians and runners and bicyclists. Plus rabbit or deer poop lying about as occasional snacks for the dog. Not the regular Mexican fare, street food menu included. But there is a price. It is cold and wet and gray here. And there is no music or colors. The Belgians are pretty conservative compared with the local scenes in Cozumel. Everyone dressed in grays and black. Can you imagine!?
All in all, a good and easy trip, once on the plane and out of Mexico. Oh, the air conditioning in the plane in Mexico did not work. Most passengers thought that hell's end was near, until we were airborne. Then everything worked, very smooth flight, and we landed in Brussels on time. The cost all the way to the CZ without the overnight was about $500 each including Maco. Everyone loved the dog, except, of course, the Mexican authorities and airport check-in people.
No one checked Maco's ID chip. And his other papers? I don't know if anyone ever looked at them. It cost us less than 100 Euro to get him here.
While in Brussels, we ate in two restaurants. Both welcomed Maco, and he was well behaved. He is a magnet for attention in some places, each kind of attention being different. For example, several people in Brussels patted him once on the head as they walked by without stopping, and neither said anything to nor acknowledged his owner(s) as they did so.
Maco landed in Prague and got hold of the bag with the few bits of dog food in it that we had used to keep his attention, get him into his crate, etc. He was so happy to be carrying something and off the plane that he shook it playfully and it spilled all over the all-too-slick Prague airport floor. Czechs looked on without expression, as usual, as the dog scrambled and slid all over the place to gobble up the bits and greet us with abandon at the same time.
My conclusion for Maco is that he is a go-anywhere dog. We were on trains and busses, in taxis and private cars, on planes, escalators, elevators . . . all of it and no fuss. If we were just standing waiting for some reason, he lay down and just waited. The passers-by petted him and he only humped one baggage handler, female, who said she loved dogs until the humping con noticeable erection. She said, "Oh, he's a male." I think I said something like "Yes, very much so." She quickly became serious and ignored him.
As for me, my first morning in the CZ was in snow up beyond your-you-know-what, and as a courtesy and grateful houseguest, I shoveled for an hour in sandals, three shirts and a borrowed windbreaker. Welcome back to winter, one here which has not seen the sun, I am told, since Christmas. Maco is delighted with the snow. Pavla is definitely not amused.
That is the report for now. Now what? as we scratch our heads and Maco licks himself--guess where--why the hell did we leave paradise?
12.03.09
