Tension in a Taxi- short travel article for Wanderlust Magazine

 “Get on the floor” said the taxi driver “and take your bag off the seat”.  I hesitated but did as I was told because it was clear even to me that this Mexico City cabbie had got us hopelessly lost.  He’d taken a wrong turn and we were slowly sinking into an area of the city which was beginning to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A sudden braking, the tangy smell of rusty metal in my nostrils, the car reeling as he spun it around told me he didn’t want to be here either.  The streets were dark, braziers blazed on corners like a scene from a film.  But Hollywood movie this wasn’t.  As we retreated back along the route we had just taken he told me I could get up.  In the heat of the evening, my sweat was surprisingly cold.

In Mexico City on a short stop-over, part business, part pleasure, the pleasure bit means the opportunity to see the Teotihuacán Pyramids only about 48 kilometres away. I imagine myself making the long climb to the top of the Pyramid of the Sun but this time short of breath and hearing the beat of my heart in my ears for a wholly different reason.  But right now, in a city home to over nineteen million people, we’re winding around in a darkening labyrinth of narrowing streets.  I try not to let the acid taste of panic edge its way up from the base of my stomach. The sharp prick of tears begins to form around my eyes.  “It’s all right” the taxi driver says looking at me in the mirror and I weakly smile and nod my head.

It is alright.  As I stand on the top of the pyramid a few days later, I remind myself that this is what travel is about - the contrasts, the unexpected twists and turns, the edginess and unpredictability that sometimes come with the territory.  But on my return trip to the airport, I make sure I get someone who knows where they are going.