Part 2: A Week's Worth of Knowledge

It has been just over a week...well, about a week and a half, and all is going well. I have every intention of keeping a low profile and being a good 'ambassador' to this new land. I will do my best to fit in like a real Mexican. In these few enjoyable days, I have learned a few things...

Language: I have visited here before, but now this is 'home'. I am still amazed at how accommodating my real home is, as opposed to this place. Don't get me wrong, the people are so nice and friendly. However, they don't give a hoot about doing ANYTHING bi-lingual. For all those bleeding heart PC right-on types, when you come to Mexico, you best speak and read Mexican! I have yet to find a carton of milk with English and Spanish...or laundry soap, or signs hanging in grocery stores-or even exit and entry signs! No! To them it makes no difference if you are a foreigner, you speak and read the language. (too bad Americans can not learn this and take it to heart!)



Food: Awesome! I can't get enough. I am proud that all of have ingested and no potty problems. This is no small feat when you consider some of the home-brewed pepper concoctions swimming in plastic bins at the market from fat guys wearing stained white shirts. I have no idea what I am doing! It looks great and tastes great! Funny, so much of the stuff I buy is from strangers (usually sitting) with dirty hands and even dirtier hair. No way I would buy food stuffs from a dirty handed stranger at home. I have quickly adopted the bean filled tortilla'(?) or is it a gordita as my fave. Lucious! The duo that peddles the stuff arrives everyday at 1:30 in the local market.

Better than a peanut butter sandwich.

Holy Mole! Yes! Vast bins of the stuff, just out in the open for all to sneeze on and to serve as playgrounds for passing flies. "Taste...go ahead, taste!", the lady says, and Tonya just sticks her fingers in and grabs a hunk. Ugh...how many others have done this with even dirtier hands...stranger, dirtier foreign hands!!!!

(no flies or foreign fingers pictured)

peppers...anyone?

Beans in a bag. This is a crazy concept. They sell refried beans in a plastic vacuum sealed bags.

Mini-pancakes. The little old lady on the way to the church sells some mean mini-pancakes, about the size of a quarter. You tell her how many, she grabs a sheet of brightly colored tissue paper and rolls up your 'cakes in a bright tight roll. Tasty indeed, and neat to hold.



Cabs: Everything you read and everyone you ask says DO NOT HAIL CABS ON THE STREET! What does Tonya insist on? "Let's take a cab." I have actually done this a few times, making sure it was mid afternoon. Gone are the little green Volkswagen bug cabs, now they have all been painted maroon and gold.

Truthfully, my first cab ride was in a back neighborhood somewhere, and on a dirty smelly street in broad daylight, I stepped off the trashy curb and into a stranger cab. I must confess. I was freaked out. I kept my eye on the sinister looking driver. I watched his hands, and kept a constant eye to all sides every time we would slow down and stop. Hey, I read the stories, I know they will ambush us at stop lights. We made it safe though. I would like to think any driver shuttling strangers around with Jesus on a crucifix over his change box should be of equal moral aptitude...right? I am not crazy about it, but we have done this a few times. I may a vow to photograph every cab I ride in, starting with my first ride.

Terror ride #1

This guy is a lover not a fighter (that is the impression I got from his dash)

Half-assedness:* Bountiful here, in all areas. Prime example, three days in a row of power outages. Each one over 2 hours long. This can seriously hamper your plans. The flip-side is, it is kind of nice to sit with your girlie and drink wine by candle light and just relax and talk. It is NOT fun however, to try and cook in a small kitchen by the same means-candle light.



Americans: It is pretty obvious that I am not one of them. Atleast I think so. It was obvious to the waiter the other night. He brings me my soup and a beer. He brings me my tacos. He brings me more tacos and another beer. He then comes and stands beside the table. "Why is here?" he asks Tonya. "All the news that we see and all we read, it seems like all America does is say not to come here. It is dangerous, Mexico is full of delinquents." The waiter was truly puzzled why a gringo would come to his country and his city, in the midst of all the chaos.

I laughed and told Tonya to tell him I had no idea why I would come here either, but I am here, and it is ok." The waiter smiled and said "It si not true. There are problems, real problems, but we are not all bad. I hope he will see this...". Last time I ate in this restaurant I made a little Mexican friend, and this time it seems I have done it again. I smiled at the guy and said thanks, and I do like it here. It is a bit sad, there are many goodhearted people here. Just like anywhere else, everyone is out to make a living and survive. We all want our fun and laughs and to be with those we love. This guy is no different, nor am I. I regret to say though, there are some of a different mindset and they carry very big guns. A few bad apples, eh?

The neighbor's place, or 'casa' as the natives like to say.

My Neighborhood: I am truly fortunate to be in a wonderful neighborhood. I am positive this will affect my outlook on life here. Believe me, there are definitely some neighborhoods here you would not want to venture in to. Curiously enough though, no matter what neighborhood you are in, the Mexicans love to throw trash around. It is somewhat of a comforting thought, because I thought they only did that when they were in my country! Nope, no matter how nice your place is, or how much rent you pay, there will be empty plastic bottles on the ground. Somewhere in the near vicinity there will be dog poop and undoubtedly some food scraps too.

Looking down the street...

...and looking the other way.

Still, my neighborhood is great! Wonderful markets, odd shops, beautiful houses and quaint parks. One could hardly ask for more (albeit it, decent coffee would be nice).

On the way to the park

Inside the park

Cinqo De Mayo: On the drive down I was kind of excited to see what is would be like to be in Mexico on Cinqo de Mayo. Hmmm. Nothing happened. The day came and went without any fanfare. We were driving around the city, listening to the radio and never once did I see Mexicans out in the streets, shouting with pride as they seem to do in America. From this honky's perspective, I was quite shocked. I lived it y'all, now I can vouch that they don't give a sh*t about this 'holiday'. The only place they care about it is in the USA, and most probably in some hokey Irish pub at that! Shocking, to tell the truth.



So, not too bad for a week's worth of stuff, is it? I look forward to what lies ahead...

*(during the process of writing this, the power went out again!)