Don’t get me wrong — I love my husband, and we’re great companions — at home and on the road. But I was thrilled when he decided not to join me on a trip to Querétaro, a city two hours from where we live part of the year in Mexico.
Barry was afraid it would be too hot. A Brit, he considers anything above 75 degrees a heat wave. And I was not-so-secretly thrilled to be on my own, even if it was only for 48 hours.
This was my chance to explore without worrying if anyone else was tired, annoyed, or hungry. This was my chance to do things my way.
Courtesy of Louisa Rogers.
I was excited to explore on my own
Querétaro is one of several Mexican colonial highland cities known for its well-preserved 18th-century architecture and silver-mining history. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage site, with over 1,400 protected buildings, churches, plazas, and a historic aqueduct. Barry and I have been there several times, but always on the way to somewhere else.
The adventure started when I boarded a bus from Guanajuato to Querétaro. The long-distance buses, with reclining seats, wifi, audio, and video entertainment, feel like flying in business class. My hotel room was also spacious, with two classy balconies.
Since I paint watercolors, the first thing I did was visit the Querétaro Museum of Art, which showcased a series of vibrant acrylic paintings by a Yucatán artist. At another art gallery, I enjoyed an immersive exhibition of erotic sculptures, where visitors were invited to touch the art. I took photos and sent them to Barry, who was just as intrigued. Just because he wasn’t with me didn’t mean I didn’t want to share a few moments with him.
Courtesy of Louisa Rogers.
Later that day, I strolled around, eventually finding a restaurant near a park with a pianist playing. The waiter recommended zucchini and walnut soup. Divine! After I was done eating, I whiled away an hour painting, with a glass of wine (well, two). Waiters never rush you in Mexico.
My husband wasn’t with me, but I still wanted to share things with him
The next morning, I took another bus, passing the railway maintenance crew working on the train that will eventually go from Mexico City through Querétaro and beyond. Then I explored a Toltec ruins on the outskirts of the city.
My Uber driver into town told me a long story about his other job, burying dead people, sharing many descriptive details about the smells. I told him I had once been attracted to working for a funeral home, but after hearing the visceral details of his job, I’m glad I decided to pass.
I probably would have had the same conversation with the driver if Barry had been there, but like other aspects of the trip, it felt very refreshing to chat on my own. This was another story I’d share with Barry as soon as I could.
When I’m traveling with my husband, I’m not always as focused and aware. For instance, he has a better sense of orientation than I do, so I let him lead. Since I was by myself in Querétaro, I couldn’t be passive; I had to pay attention, which was good for me.
I enjoyed the chance to linger
The best part of my two-day break was not a place, but the freedom of dawdling. For instance, on Sunday, I couldn’t find the restaurant where I’d eaten the day before, so I checked out others. The first three were no-gos: one was mainly meat, which I don’t eat; one was too noisy; and the last had the kind of high tables and chairs where my feet don’t reach the floor, and I feel like I’m in preschool.
When Barry’s ready to eat, he gets irritated checking out restaurants, so he usually sits on a bench while I decide. I often feel a whiff of anxiety knowing I’m keeping him waiting. This time, though, I took my time and finally found an Italian restaurant where I ordered ciabatta, once again laying out my supplies and painting when I was done.
Courtesy of Louisa Rogers.
That evening, there was dancing to live music at one of the nearby plazas. I positioned myself near two women who turned out to be a mom and a daughter, and we chatted during the break.
On the bus going home, I kept daydreaming about all the different parts of my weekend escapade, puzzling over why it had taken me so long to go somewhere by myself. After all, Barry and I thrive on time apart, and, in fact, consider it one of the secrets to our long (52 years!) relationship. Every year, I fly to Mexico before him and return after him. Next year, I vowed, I’ll go to Zacatecas, another UNESCO World Heritage city in Mexico that I like more than Barry does — on my own. I can hardly wait.
