My predominant thought during the week in Districto Federal, was how much my dear friends back home would be laughing if they knew how easy we had it. Collected from the airport, ferried from official building to official building, hostel pre-booked for us...all 38 of us ‘Bri’ish Council Lot’. However, I must add that from the moment I touched down it wasn’t all smooth-riding. My introduction to Mexico City involved most people’s worst nightmare. Not being pushed on stage naked in front on glaring lights and staring faces, but that painful wait for your luggage to appear from the soulless black hole and come crawling towards you on the conveyer belt. Mine never appeared, never crawled...it just sat, lonely and abandoned, in Madrid airport. Either that or it just decided it wasn’t quite ready for Mexico yet. Whatever motive my suitcase and my backpack had for not joining me, it meant my introductory phrase for the first 2 days were ‘Hi, I’m Claire – I normally look a lot better and don’t wear the same clothes two days running. I’m not sure why I felt the need to explain this straight away, as no one other than me had noticed that I had been wearing the same underwear for 52hours, but I felt a duty to justify my repetitive and, generally not particularly attractive appearance. However, I didn’t do myself any favours by doing this, as it meant that when my beloved belongings finally arrived, on Tuesday morning, I felt an immense amount of pressure to suddenly appear on the coach to the British Council looking like beauty incarnate in a thoughtfully-crafted and breath-taking ensemble. None of this happened, of course. But I noticed the fresh knickers and extra blusher on my cheeks, even if nobody else did.
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