I got there late as the bus was rather late. It was raining, but luckily the taxi driver was cool and very talkative. Because of the weather there was a huge queue for the taxis, so I ended up sharing a taxi with a couple. So we all started talking, sharing stories, etc. It’s funnu how most Mexicans know Bulgaria. They are still getting over the ’94 World Cup when Bulgaria beat Mexico. Of course they all know Hristo Stoichkov (although they call him Stoikov here). We dropped them off at the main church and continued to the hostel. It turned out that the driver didn’t quite know where it was and we ended up going to another street with the same name (that’s what the driver said).
We did make it eventually. Orlando (taxi driver) helped me carry the luggage to the door only to find it locked. So we knock, and this non-Mexican looking guy comes out saying he doesn’t work there, and I need to call this number and ask the owners to come. A bit unusual. So I do call, and nobody picks up. I call this other number, and I get through voicemail. 2s cost me 2 pounds (the joys of roaming). So, I start looking around for phone, and there’s none.
That’s when mu knight in not so shining armour comes in and saves the day. Orlando walks through the door, holding his personal mobile, dialing the number on the door. He gets through to the owners and gets them to come. The nicest taxi driver ever!
So, I got settled in, got some food, and spent the night chatting to a lovely American couple who have just moved to town. They told me about their jobs, and how they are gonna live and work in Queretaro for at least a year.
Next day, I got up and explored the city. Saw everything in 5h. But before that I had some interesting encounters. First thing I saw soon after I left the hostel was an old, interesting looking house. So, I was getting ready to take a picture, when this elderly lady (wearing bright red lipstick) from across the street tells me to wait for her so she can tell me the story of the house. It turned out it belonged to Maximilian, a big political figure in previous yaers. Now the lady and her family live there. The Rabell Family started their own theatre some years back and are successfully running it to date. The lasy woudn’t stop talking, and told me all about her sons, her husband, the performances, the house. She gave me cooking tips, and asked if I wanted to take a cacti back with me. She had many despite the storm that destroyed a lot. She told me about this fallen tree in her garden that could be used to prepare many things. She gave me healing tips and brochures listing their performances. She oncluded her full contact details as wel as those of her son (Paco Chico). Her husband was Paco Grande. She took me to the very back of the house, to what seemed to be the family office and told me about the antiques, and the tropheys. That’s when she mentioned a restaurant that also sold antiques and called her son to ask for the exact address. She also gave me the name of a place that made local marmalades , jam, snacks, and off course sold antiques. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find it just by the name.
I did have breakfast in the first place she mentioned (good food) where I met a guy who gve me a lecture in American history. It turns out the Americans are not actually Americans, they are all Germans, Irish, etc. A very good start of the day.
I went back to the hostel hoping to get my deposit back and leave but it was completely empty. Not a soul. I didn’t see the couple’s luggage and I thought they had found an apartment and moved out. There was no personel or any other guests. I was completely alone in the big, dark house. Freeky.
It was pretty obvious I wasn’t going anywhere, so I went out in search of Inet and other people. I was relieved (and so happy!) to find the couple at the hostel when I went back. It turned out they had just changed rooms. Later that night, a lovely French couple came as well. We had dinner together.
Next morning just before I left, I met the personel – Rodolfo. A nice guy, asking if I had any foreign coins to give his two boys as they were collecting them. I didn’t unfortnately. He told me about the yeallow bus that would take me to the station, and asked how I liked Queretaro.
I said it was pretty, he said: ‘It’s clean, no?’.