The fellow looks at my ticket. He reads out the long hand violation. Then I get another surprise. The traffic cop took my front license plate. That's not welcomed knowledge. How do I get it back, and where do I go?

"E" Spelled Relief!!!!

The torturous old 8-hour Puebla to Oaxaca mountain drive is now a swift, scenic, effortless trip. You can still snake your way from Puebla to Oaxaca, save the toll charges, and visit the small towns along the way. It's your choice.

The 200-mile drive took just over 3 hours. I put the Grand Marquis at 110 km (70 mph) and stopped only at the 5 toll plazas. Well, that did take a little bit of change, 203 pesos, about $18 for the lightly trafficked highway.

I left Puebla at 6:35 a.m. and expected to breakfast late in Oaxaca. But I was caught off guard by the traffic congestion as I entered Oaxaca. The only place to park was in the street. And a goodly number of drivers did just that.

I tried to worm my way around double-parked cars with my map in hand and my eyes trying to glimpse a street sign. I couldn't find the zocalo (main plaza) and when I did, I was going the wrong way on a one-way street and then of course had to make a double back around the block.

Looking for Las Casas Street I passed Colon, then found out that they were the same.

Finally, I spotted relief, "E", Estacionamiento, Public Parking. I pulled in and was joyful to get out, stretch and search for a hotel on foot. But parking is steep in Oaxaca, $2 an hour plus any fraction thereof and it was clearly stated. The Grand Marquis qualified for the maximum rate and was condemned to the same category as a Suburban.

I thought parking was high until I checked the first tourist hotel, $120. They won't budge on price. I asked for a Senior discount, a student discount, a AAA discount and even asked, "Do you have a discount for friends of the hotel owners?" All I got was courtesy.

The receptionist suggested the Principal Hotel next door. Principal was well located, modest, somewhat out-of-date, no air and only $25 a night. That sounded great until I recalled that I had to settle the Grand Marquis.

Settling the Grand Marquis turned out to be a nightmare and an adventure. Instead of my car lugging me around, I felt I was lugging it.

I scampered back to the parking lot and asked what the daily rate would be. The attendant, with a great smile and easy manner, took out a pencil and paper. He wrote down 20 and multiplied it by 24, 480 pesos ($45) no discount. They only offered hourly rates. I rushed around and found two other parking garages, but the best was 12 pesos times 24. The fellow was giving me the small car rate.

I couldn't believe that overnight parking would cost more that overnight sleeping.

I started to panic. I wanted to get settled, the parking was clipping off at $2 an hour, and I could not convince myself to spend more for the Grand Marquis' night's rest than my own.

I looked at the map in my Colonial Mexico Guide. The Tourist Office was about 3 blocks away. My pace picked up.

I caught the office empty and was helped immediately. I told the clerk that I'd like to keep my expenses to around $60 a night and I needed parking. He suggested Hotel Santa Elena. He drew a circle on my map. "It's in this area," he said. But he wasn't quite sure of the street. "It's very nice, has parking and a swimming pool. It's about $35 to $40."

I hoofed it back to the parking garage passing everyone on the sidewalk. I made it back with about six minutes to spare and redeem my car for the minimum $2. I was a small victory.

I got back into the Grand Marquis. I looked the map over carefully. Santa Elena was on a side street. The hotel was located in the old congested part of town. I noted the one-way arrows. Traffic was bumper to bumper and impatient horn-honkers rattled my nerves. I was between two busses trying to read the street signs. A caterpillar made better time.

I couldn't spot the hotel marquee. I rolled down my window and asked passer-bys, "Where is Hotel Santa Elena?" No one knew.

I saw a parking place around a corner on a short triangle-shaped block and pulled up to the curb. I figured I could hunt down the Santa Elena on foot better that in the car with the horrific traffic.

Santa Elena turned out to be located mid-block on a narrow street, in an unlikely old, unattractive, commercial part of Oaxaca. Still, it was pleasure to see. There was secure parking. It was attractive, clean, built only 5 years ago and there was a central pool. All ground floor rooms were directly in front of the pool.

I checked in. The rate: $35 a night. The room was nicely furnished with two double beds, and the shower looked new, but there was no air conditioning. It was a reasonable trade off. I felt the first real relief of the day. I was anxious to park the Grand Marquis and get a bite to eat.

I paid "efectivo" (cash). The receptionist said, "Efectivo, no credit cards." "Plastic is not effective here," I said punning on the word "efectivo" and the two gals behind the counter laughed. This was a nice place to stay and the lady mentioned that the restaurant was open from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m.

I walked back to the Grand Marquis and met Officer Guillermo Mendoza Rodriquez writing out a ticket. He educated me about Oaxaca traffic laws. I had just missed getting away by a hairbreath. He had only filled out the first line of the citation and I had to wait for him to fill in the spaces and write out the charge in longhand.

I had parked in a zone that every Oaxacan knows is a "no parking" area. It was clear to Officer Mendoza. It wasn't marked with the E with a slash through it, as normal, well sometimes. He explained that I had parked in a traffic lane.

I thanked him for the education. I had a client once that told me she was a good driver because when she was young the cops stopped her and corrected her driving. I adopted her attitude.

I asked, "Where do I go to pay the fine?" "Municipal," he said somewhat curtly. I was still in his bad graces. I got out my map and asked if he'd point it out. He did so.

Then it was back into the traffic nightmare and about 20 minutes later due to one-way streets and railroad tracks that forced me to make a short two-block trip into a 10-block circuit, I parked the Grand Marquis.

Relief for the second time.

I put my suitcase in the room and checked with the pleasant gal at the desk to be sure that I understood my directions to the Municipal. It wasn't far.

When I arrived, of course, there was a line. I'm chatting with other "culpables" (guilties). We're all in good spirits in spite of our soon to be levied fine. I talk with a young gal and a slightly older fellow. She tells me that there is a discount. You pay only half if you pay promptly. That's the day's best news.

The fellow looks at my ticket. He reads out the longhand violation.

I get another surprise. The traffic cop took my front license plate. That's not welcomed knowledge. How do I get it back, and where do I go?

He explains that the fine-clerk will tell me where to go to get my plate and I'll need to bring my paid receipt. I'm a smidgen exasperated. But I tell the two young violators, "It's a benefit. I learn the law, help the city and have less time to shop." They laugh. We're all in a good mood like in the old movie, "Angels with Dirty Faces."

The fine is 132 pesos ($12) but being prompt, I pay only 66 ($6). The fine-clerk tells me where to go. It`s not close. In fact, it's a journey. She expects me to drive my car and an officer will re-attach my plate. I don't want to move the Grand Marquis. I've already spent a half-day trying to park it.

But the gal tells me Morales Street and points the direction.

I go outside and double-check with a police officer. I sure don't want to walk in the wrong direction.

Officer Jose Flores has a police cell phone and a different attitude. He flips out his phone and says, "Scorpion." It's a code. He takes my paid receipt in hand and reads off a number. They have the plate. He says, "It's a tourist," and asks the other party to send a motorcycle cop with the plate to Municipal.

On a motorcycle, weaving in and out of traffic, it takes only 10 minutes. It was my third relief of the day.

This story is from my Forty Days in Mexico.
The previous story in the series is Teaching English in Mexico.
The next story in the series is Oaxaca: Cultural Exchange, Reciprocal Visits?