This is the third in a series about traveling to Mexico under "Stories About My Importing Business"
I stopped by the hotel the tourist guide had suggested. I parked illegally by the old fountain in the roundabout and went up a narrow walkway or that looked like a drive towards the hotel, passed by a phone booth, which would be the phone I’d have to use to call anyone in the United States. The lobby was tiny with only two leather and wood chairs. Red, green, blue, white and yellow flags hung on twine from the ceiling as if they were having a party.
Behind the clerk were cubby holes with keys on large brown leather key chains. I was to find out that when you left, you returned the key to the clerk. When you arrived back at the hotel, they’d give it back to you. This is how they knew whether you were in the room or not when people called or came to visited you or called.
In the middle of the hotel was a beautiful garden, almost a jungle with a fountain, wrought iron white round tables and chairs with bright blue umbrellas, red brick walkways. It would eventually become my office. He showed me a room on one side and I could see and hear buses, trucks and cars a few blocks below. I could see red tile roofs, white stucco buildings, on the mountains and blue skies for miles. It looked like a postcard. (the story continues)
