Bus Ride from Mazatlán to Guadalajara

Seriously, Mazatlán is extremely hot. 

We had a heat wave in Vancouver in 2021 and in Europe, too. It was hot… day and night! So, we all know what it’s like. 

Now imagine this heat plus humidity – feels like 40+ degrees Celsius – the sun burning, sweat just trickling down without as much as lifting a little finger… And at night, it’s still hot! 27 degrees… which is lovely to walk around, which, of course, you don’t do in Mexico – walking around in the dark.

I am sensitive to air conditioning, so all I have is a ceiling fan lightly blowing on me at the dinner table and over my bed, just moving the hot air a little. I start feeling irritable. I can’t sleep well. I’m just hot all the time. I don’t want to go outside during the day…

So, I decide to travel to Guadalajara during the hot season in Mazatlán. Guadalajara is further inland, up in the mountains, at an elevation of 1,556m or 5,138 ft. At this time in September 2022, the temperatures are in the mid-20’s during the day and go down to 16 degrees at night. Lovely!!

Within a few days, I book a hotel/hostel room through airbnb, a Spanish language course and a bus ticket. 

On Saturday, I arrive at the bus terminal at 7:30am in the morning. And I wait in the waiting room. It’s already hot – why did I come so early? I sit there with my backpack and travel bag, I packed some snacks and lots of water for the trip. The bus is supposed to leave at 8:30am… oh, I am such a keener… 

Ten minutes before departure time, the bus comes. I ask someone where it would arrive and am waiting in the right spot. I show the driver my ticket, check my bags into the bowels of the bus and climb aboard. 

Turns out that Mazatlán isn’t the first stop; there are already passengers on board, some sleeping. It isn’t very full, and so I have both seats to myself, aisle and window. 

The bus is quite comfortable – the seats are recliners and there are individual tv’s like in an airplane. Unfortunately, the movies only play in Spanish. I try the English option, and they start with English subtitles, but only for the first few minutes. Then the subtitles disappear. Strange… I give up on the tv and read instead. And watch the landscape passing by the windows.

Mexico’s landscape is rather varied. I am surprised to see lush green fields outside, grazing cows, horses, sheep, goats, pigs, and a few agricultural fields. Mostly everything is green, I could be anywhere, it reminds me of home. The only thing that gives away the “exotic” location is the occasional palm or cactus along the way. They almost look out of place…

The gentleman in the seats across the aisle tries to start a conversation with me. I say, “tries” because I truly do not understand a word he says at first. After a while of trying, I finally figure out that he is asking me how to say things in English. Very very slowly, we talk.

After about 2 hours of driving, we stop behind a truck on the highway and I see a few people dressed in black on the road. My heartbeat speeds up slightly – what is going on? The gentleman across the aisle asks, ¿policía? I say, no sé, I don’t know. 

Two men and one woman come aboard. All dressed in black, the woman with a Palestinian keffiyeh. They each start talking with the passengers. I don’t understand a word, don’t exactly know what’s going on. I feel relieved when the two men pass me. They have batons in their belts and electric screwdrivers in their hands. I don’t see guns, thank goodness. 

The woman stops at my seat and starts talking with me in Spanish. She wants to see what is in my bag. Pointing and gesturing brings her point across, no need for language… I’m uncomfortable with her going through my stuff. Every zipper of my daypack is opened and a lot of feminine hygiene products are revealed – clearly, nothing incriminating. She wants to see what I have in my fanny pack, too, and I show her. I have read about cops taking bribes from foreigners in Mexico, so I am nervous. I carry quite a bit of cash with me… but nothing happens, she just wants to see. Finally she moves on toward the back of the bus.

The three black-clothed people leave the bus, and a moment later, the bus driver comes and speaks Spanish to everyone. I understand that they are searching the checked bags now, and everyone leaves the bus to make sure their stuff is safe. My bags are locked with the little TSA suitcase locks, so I am worried they might break into them… but they don’t seem to care. One of them is upside down when I get there, and no-one says anything or pays any more attention to them or me. They talk with one of the passengers as they hold his suitcase.

Eventually, they leave into their make-shift camouflaged tent at the side of the road and we get back on the bus and keep driving. I ask my fellow traveller what they were looking for. Drogas y armas, he says, drugs and weapons. That figures. Later, I find out that these guys were Nayarit state police, unmarked likely to prevent retaliation from criminals.

We keep driving, making a couple more stops along the way where passengers get off. My new friend points out a volcano that we are passing, but I cannot make out its name. 

More and more agave fields are appearing, fields with small agave plants, medium sized ones, and some with big plants. We are nearing the town of Tequila. We make a short stop for a vendor to come on board and he offers tacos, pop and tequila bottles. I pass, but my neighbour is getting a taco. The tequila bottle is a decorative round bottle with a shoulder strap, not glass. Like a leather water flask in an old western movie, but probably plastic, with Mexican decorations. Only 200 pesos… that is a good deal at about $13 CAD. Still, I pass. 

Finally, we get close to Guadalajara, after about an 8 hour ride. My friend is getting off one stop before me. He almost convinces me that I have to get off, too, but the bus driver quickly explains that there is one more stop. 

Guadalajara is a big city, Mexico’s second largest. I mostly see city highways and larger streets with low buildings from the bus, some universities, small tiendas and taquerias. When we  arrive at the terminal, a young guy with a dolly already waits, and I accept his help with the bags for a tip. He brings me to the area where I can get picked up by a DiDi, a Mexican version of Uber. 

The DiDi driver is very friendly and brings me to the hotel. It’s been a long day of travel. The hotel/hostel seems okay. It’s clean, not fancy. The room has no window to the outside, only to the hallway which is strange. But it’s good enough for a few weeks.  

I have enough time to walk around the neighbourhood – it’s a little outside Centro and not very nice, but decent. I buy some water and fruits at a corner store and settle in for my first night in Guadalajara.