We pulled into San Luis Potosi about 2:00 p.m. after a very pleasant run on one of Mexico's fine bus lines. I love Mexican buses. Mexico did what I am convinced no other country on the earth has ever quite figured out. They made bus travel not only comfortable but also enjoyable—at least for me. Where else on this planet could you board a modern, fairly new bus, be given a cold drink and snack, and watch a movie or listen to music? Nowhere, I have to say. Unless, of course, they are doing this in Liechtenstein and no one told me.

Another thing so peculiar about bus travel is the apparent efficiency at which the bus ticket agents operate. I mean to tell you that to see how they do this is so slick, so cool, and so efficient that you've got to think really hard whether you are even in Mexico when beholding the efficiency. I was standing in the San Luis Potosi bus station watching these guys and gals hawking tickets like the food vendors do in the delis outside Mercado Hidalgo in Guanajuato. They scream at you, wave at you, call out destinations and prices to try to lure you to their line to buy a ticket. The thing is, XYZ bus line heading for Chihuahua City will have almost the same fare as bus line ABC, sometimes with only a few peso difference. Yet, they want your business.

They are fast and have you ticketed and on your way in a most uncharacteristic Mexican fashion. The rest of Mexico should go to whatever school the ticket agents go to learn this level of efficiency.

I was there with my ever faithful, always enduringly patient travel partner: my wife. If you want to know the truth, I could not travel were it not for her leading me by the hand, at times, when my neuro-muscular illness robs me of any semblance of straight thinking. I would probably have boarded a bus for Guatemala if she weren't with me to step in and help when I begin lagging. We snagged a cab to our hotel.

The cabs here charge according to a zone scheme. You go to a booth and tell the cashier where you are heading. She figures out where it is and how much to charge you. You pay the cashier, who then hands you a ticket for the zone you are heading to and you give the ticket to the cabbie. This is absolutely wonderful! This prevents you from trying to guess if the cabbie is trying to rip you off or not. I've learned to ask BEFORE getting into a cab in places where the zone system isn't in effect, what the fare will be. If it seems too much, I will thank the gomer and then go down the line of taxis that are present outside big Mexican city bus terminals like little yellow, green or red strings of pearls. I love the gouge-proof system in some of these cities.

We arrived about 2:30 p.m. at our 137-year-old hotel. This place was right out of a 1930's Mexican movie. It was a well-preserved building whose original, and only function, was a hotel. It was old but charming in a scary kind of way. It wasn't dirty, per se, but not especially clean. It looked like it was going to be an adventure with its twenty-foot high ceilings and melodramatic decor. I kept expecting to see Dolores del Rio and Everett Marshall come stumbling down the stairs from an all-night private rehearsal of the script for "I Live for Love". But, this was the year 2007 and not 1935, so I was left with only my imagination.

So, it wasn't the glitz but it was cheap and had the distinct and undying quality of being downtown, only a block or two from the center. The things I drag my wife through to save money and to find a place convenient to the town's center. We rested before heading out for a survey of the surroundings and to a store in which to buy things to eat. By the way, you really should develop this practice when traveling through Mexico. You will save your stomach and intestines from hating you and wishing you dead if you eat lots and lots of granola bars, fiber bars, bottled juices, yogurt, and most of all, bottled water. This hotel did not provide water, so we had to buy our own.

We were eager to check out this capital city of the state of San Luis Potosi nestled in northeastern Mexico. At about 1,900 meters above sea level, this fine city is often called the City of Gardens. It was each and every one of those gardens we wanted to see but were disappointed because knew our limited time here would not allow it. You can get here by bus, as we did, or fly into the city's airport north of the city. The agreeable climate keeps the city's more than 700,000 citizens within the city limits. Brewing and textile manufacturing are the main businesses here, though tourism is also a huge commercial activity. However, the vast majority of the tourists must be Mexicans, as we did not see any foreigners during our stay.

We were excited. We had another colonial city to explore!