Another Weekend with Lulu...and Mordo!

I knew something was up when I answered the phone and a sheepish voice how things were going.  It seemed as if there was some fishing going on, looking for an invite to while away this fine Saturday evening in the presence of friends.  Tonya was in the kitchen, but she soon came to take over the conversation.  I heard a simple “I have been sick…” and I knew it.  Mordo was on the prowl again.

Tonya has been sick all week, and this is the first day she has actually been getting up and around.  Lulu had called and said she was coming over later.  This was going to be an easy night of visiting and dinner, but now since Mordo is sniffing around, Tonya is concerned over her health and what it means when Mordo shows up. It was not set in stone, Mordo just told Tonya he would call her later, just so they could talk.  This call came at 7:30, in the middle of our dinner.  Tonya says again, “Mordo, I have been sick.  I do not want to stay up late.  If you are coming, then come on…”  Hanging up she looks at us and says “I don’t want to wait all night”

We talk of our recent adventures and the ongoing maid issues that Tonya is having with Maria Antonia.  Lulu is dealing with ongoing wrangles about her ex and her kids.  The two exchange advice on each others predicaments.  I switch it up by telling Lulu that Gary Numan is coming to Mexico.  Yes, Lulu is a big Gary Numan fan.  Believe it or not, Mexico has not been on Gary’s tour schedule since…well, since he was Gary Numan.  For all Numanoids south of the border, this is very big news.  Lulu’s eyes light up when I tell her the news.  She wants to confirm the entourage right here and now (I check my emails the next morning to find and quick note from Lulu with a link to the info about Numan’s Mexico gig.  She is obviously mad for it)

The phone call to chat came 2 hours later.  Mordo was on his way…finally.  Tonya hung up and began to brace for the onslaught.  Lulu laughed at looks at her watch.  I have been enjoying the meal and wine, and looking forward to quiet night in and probably early to bed.  “I warned him not to expect anything.  I told him we have no tequila or beer” Tonya said as a reassurance to us all. Now, we are faced with the rambling chats, laughs, tears and empty bottles that Mordo leaves in his wake.

Conversing amongst dinner debris.

Mordo’s arrival is signaled by the incredibly loud door bell.  No, this is not some electronic chime, but an actual metal bell that is so loud it is frightening.  He waltzes in with his flowing fake grey Burberry scarf dangling to one side, holding his beloved tequila in his hands.  Before he even sits, he is asking where his own shot glass is that he brought over the first visit.  Why we are all scurrying to find it is beyond me, but I am the winner who finds it in a cabinet in the kitchen.  I plop it down in front of him and he visibly starts to relax as he pours his first drink here (although he has already been at it for a few hours already)

No time is wasted in throwing gossip around and getting the laughs out.  Mordo always has a story, or some overblown drama which spins with the utmost delicacy and intrigue.  Maybe it is him sitting there like some sort of regent with the scarf around his neck that makes it all the more enjoyable.  He tries to quell the girls’ problems with words of the wise which his mother had recently told him, “Anything you can solve with money is not really a problem”  Hmmmm.  Although he is quite good with English, he dispels some ancient Chinese wisdom too, about worry and denial.  A problem may be looming overhead, but don’t worry about it.  Accept it and keep on.

I had a first today.  I was called a ‘naco’. ( Naco is basically someone who thinks they are the bomb, dresses like they own Chess King but act like they are wearing Paul Smith ).  Mordo is shocked.  Why would I be called a naco?   I am tall, slender and blond hair…not really the naco type.  I explain to Lulu and Mordo how I earned this tag.  To be short and sweet, we had been stalled in a small traffic jam, and some haughty Mexican lady tried to pull rank on me by coming in to my lane (oncoming traffic) instead of staying in her lane with the passing traffic flow.  She stops her car and stares at me.  I stop mine and stare at her.  A car pulls behind me so now we are locked in.  The lady and her daughter are sending some serious stares my way and I know the look on my face just reeked of total disregard.  The guy behind me starts honking motioning me to move.  I manage to back up a bit and the lady immediately starts forward.  She slows down enough to make sure I heard what she was going to say.  Mother and daughter glare at me, their heads moving in unison and she starts in.  Of course, she has no idea that I do not speak Spanish (I recognized something about the street).  I follow her with my gaze as she slowly drives passed and when she finishes I utter a most dignified and clear cut American response “**** off!”  Her eyes ballooned up to the size of soccer balls, the daughter shrieked, Tonya gasped.  The lady muttered back “Naco…” and some other stuff.  Admittedly, I have a short fuse when it comes to the matador style stand-off Mexicans have in traffic.  My language definitely puts anyone in my presence into an easy restricted audience “R” rating.  I am not proud of it, but I did laugh at the name calling.

The chips are out...it's on!

“Wow” Mordo says with raised eyebrows, “that is pretty good.  You are becoming a real Mexican” he was obviously pleased with my small baby steps of acclimation into true Mexican society.  “These Mexican ladies, they can be real bitches” Mordo adds. “They look down on everybody” he says raising his nose high into the air.  Tonya re-affirms this almost daily, just how bitchy some of these women can be.  This has piqued Mordo’s curiosity and he asks what else is new.  I tell him of another instance that passed when Tonya’s niece and nephew were here.

While driving down Reforma (the main street with all the Embassies and fancy hotels) we were stopped at a light.  A typical barrage of dirty street guys make upon the waiting cars with a vengeance.  They approach mine pointing their bottle full of soapy water straight on at the windshield, “NO!”  Tonya and I both yell.  The grimy guys continues on saying something to me about just paying what I can and to have a heart (this comes form Tonya’s translating).  He finishes and moves to back window.  This is some sort of bonus gesture on his part.  I look to Tonya and say “Hey, he’s going the extra mile” and start to get a few pesos together to pay the guy.  When he finishes he walks up to my window as it is rolling down.  This is a perfect moment to show how well I have adjusted and how I now fit in with daily Mexican life.  His hand his reaching out and as the 5 pesos hit his greasy palm he looks at me and I say “Gracias buey”.  He looks a bit odd at me and mutters something.  I didn’t really see what was happening because all I heard was Tonya yelling at me and a quick punch to my side. 

“Are you crazy!  You are going to punched in the face saying that!  Why did you do that…I can’t believe it” Tonya is exasperated. I am totally confused.  Here I am thinking that I am on the level with this guy and she is saying that this is waaaay uncool to do here.  “What do you mean?  That is what all the Mexicans say at home to one another” I say somewhat wounded and confused.  Well, I get it hard and fast from Tonya.  This is a term only used in truly familiar terms here. Using it loosely can get you beat up or a fashionable black eye.  It is not taken lightly.

Lulu having a laugh.

As the story is unwinding, Lulu and Mordo are laughing.  They are shocked, but laughing at the close encounter with reality.  Taking the role of padre-figure Mordo starts to give me the fine points of being one of the dudes in everyday life in the DF.  He’s laughing at my naïveté and says that the bum probably could sense no harm, and that I was just a gringo trying to be one with him.  Both he and Lulu thought it was funny, Tonya not so much so.  Mordo begins to go through the fine points of slang and what you can and can’t say, or what and when you should say.  He mentions a few terms “brother”, but not said in an English way but done heavily with a Spanish accent, the diminutive even better.  Tonya and Lulu nod in agreement, with Lulu adding a simple, “that’s a good one”.  The term “mano” (hand) comes up too.  This is a real street-level, heart to heart buddy term.  The loving lecture of building street cred though slang was fun and informative.  It definitely was something light-hearted and filled with laughs.

Food always comes up.  I think Lulu was talking about her food rules or it may have stemmed form Mordo sternly telling me  “Never eat a salad in any restaurant in Mexico”  The only place to eat lettuce is at home or with close friends who you know.  The same for chicken…and pork…basically anything, depending on who you ask.  Mordo says he won’t eat out anywhere, only at home and at friends’ homes.  “The way Mexicans cook pork is different.  You have to have it” he says, but then adds the important point, “but not out.  It has to be at home…or with friends.  Does Tonya know how to cook pork?” Tonya tells him of the dishes she’s made and how they were done.  They seem to meet his approval, “but you must have the true Mexican way of pork…only form people you trust” he concludes.

You can pay a heavy price eating carelessly.  We all chime in about food fears and stories.  Lulu asks Mordo about Indian food. He is petrified of it.  She loves it (we do too).  “I am afraid”  Mordo says directly. “My little intestine” he looks to Tonya and asks in Spanish how to say ‘small intestine’, “my lower intestine is 7 meters long” and he spreads his hands out to try and get the point across. “Do you know how agonizing it is to have food in your little intestine that has to travel 7 meters?” His seriousness is surrounded in laugher.  Tonya re-affirms how he means it and his neurosis rules his life. “I have eaten things and agonize all night.  I know what the food is doing, I can feel it.  I lay awake all night worrying about how long it will take to travel all 7 meters of my intestine until it comes out!” He clasps his hands together and puts them beside his face like a makeshift pillow, “I can feel it trying to move through the twists and turns…I think it moves like 2 inches every 10 minutes or so”  No one says anything because we are too busy laughing. “It is truly agonizing.  Food moves so slow through the little intestine.  I lay awake all night regretting what I ate…” for Mordo, this truly is a nightmare.

Mordo dispensing wisdom.

The lecture of food travelling through the full length of Mordo’s intestine is priceless.  Glancing at her watch Lulu sees it is time to go.  She walks into the kitchen to help Tonya with a few things and pulls her keys out of her purse.  As we stand there she purposely speaks loudly and fumbles with her keys in hopes the rattling will signal Mordo that it is time to go.  We laugh at the fact he keeps rattling on about whatever, not even noticing the not so subtle hints of Lulu.  We hug and say goodbye and I yell to Mordo that we are walking her out.  He sits at the table keeping guard over his bottle.

When Tonya and I return, we exchange the ‘how long is this gonna go on’ glance over Mordo’s head.  We assume our positions at the table and get back into the conversation.  Mordo assures us that he won’t be long, but he then asks Tonya to make some coffee.  I am horrified at this and have to ask out loud, “Are you really making coffee?”  She looks sadly form the kitchen as she scoops coffee into the coffee machine.  This could be quite a while…

‘Hey Tim.  You know that cd I brought over a few weeks ago and you ripped for Tonya, that Eric Burdon one?” Mordo asks.  “I lent it to someone and I don’t know when they will give it back.  Can you burn me one from the copy you made?”  I laugh at his request and get up to make him a copy.  I hate Eric Burdon, and “NO” I did not listen to it.  This actually would prove to be my way out of the late night ramblings.  Tonya and he sit at the table and reminisce about the long history between them.  I pop in and out of the conversation, slowly spending more time on the couch with the dogs and staring at the ceiling, hoping that the coffee really is too strong and it will cut the visit short.  It appears that I miss out on some sweet moments.  Tonya later tells me that a few times Mordo tears up, “Tonya, I can’t believe for over 30 years you put up with me and my shit” he said with sincerity. “It is a lot.  I know I have a lot of BS.”  He wasn’t drunk, he was being sincere Tonya says.  However, I missed this and the tender moment of sharing memories of Tonya’s mother as I lay staring at the ceiling.

Tonya asks me something and I get up and go back to the table to be social.  No sooner did I sit that Mordo asks about his Eric Burdon cd.  I hop straight back up and go get it form the computer.  He is happy to have it and then asks for a sleeve.  I rummage around and find a cheap sleeve from one of the bootlegged DVDs we had bought.

He sits and comments at how strong the coffee truly is.  He says he will head off to his favorite hang-out to carry on the nights activities.  The place is only open 30 more minutes.  He comments on how in this time he must get a cab and get across town.  I find my way back to the couch and lay with the dogs and wait until the annoyingly loud bell will ring again.  When it does, I hop up and turn to see Mordo already standing.  He flings his scarf over his neck and puts his arms out to hug me.  We say our goodbyes and give each other a solid ‘dude’ hug.  I trail him and Tonya out to the gates to see him off.  One more hug and a few words as he walks through the gate to the cab.  His voice still lingers in a goodbye over our heads and we close the gate and slide the lock to.  We walk inside and I pat Tonya on the butt, “We made it”, as we head inside to round up the glasses and bottles.

"No wonder...it's Gringo"

It had to happen sooner or later.  We’d been fingered as foreigners.  Over the course of a few days, I had notice some aspiring author had been doing his or hers rough drafts on our car window.  One day, there is some saying scribbled on the window and I ask Tonya “What does this mean?”  She looks at it and says she doesn’t know.  Maybe someone needs to learn to spell.  A day or two later I walk out to get in the car and see a more refined message scrawled across the rear passenger window.  P U E R C O it read.  My novice ability in Spanish has not taught me this yet.  Again I ask Tonya, “Pig.  It means Pig”. Tonya seems to think it is because the car is dirty. Me, I think it is because we are form the greatest state on earth, and by default, the greatest country.  Some folks don’t like that.  In any case, I decide to play along, and write “Si” and draw a smiling pig next to their proclamation.  I hope they get a chance to see it before we wash the car.

Warm Mexican greetings

Then there is the battery scenario.  We go out to run some errands and do not leave the parking space.  Completely dead, no action, the car just makes a clicking noise.  A guy who works next door walks past and says (in Spanish) “It’s your battery” he doesn’t bother to help, he just keeps on going.  Thanks! 

Now Tonya is not the most assertive girl in town, so we end up spending the next three days going nowhere.  She is timid and will not ask others for a jump.  On the day of change, we happen on to another guy who works a few doors down.  He tells us of an electrical shop a few blocks away.  For a few pesos they will come and check your battery and sell you a new one if need be.  I immediately vote for a walk and we head to the magical electricians. 

The place is small and we nearly walk right past it.  It is grimy, and two grimy guys stand behind a small counter in what looks like a forgotten closet stowed with years of cables, batteries and other assorted electrical things.  The guy with the gold teeth comes to our aid.  He’s small and has hands covered beneath a few good layers of grit and grease.  He listens to Tonya’s story while I stand there like some mute.  When he nods his head I know we are underway.  He shows us to his car (what a genuinely nice fella!) and grabs his necessary tools and puts them in the trunk.  As soon as we arrive back home he looks under the hood. He tells Tonya no wonder we are having problems, the battery is “ a gringo one” he says pointing at the somewhat corroded thing.  He hooks his cables up to his car and our starts immediately. “It’s the battery,” he says.  He then tells us to try it for a day or two and give him a call if anything happens.  He hands me his card and smiles showing his two front gold teeth. 

Since we hadn’t left our home for three days, we take advantage of the situation and go for a short drive and to get groceries.  After our brief shopping trip, we pass another shop that sells batteries.  I point it out to Tonya as we pass.  All goes well as we manage to get our errands done without a hiccup.

The place where all the magic happens

A few days pass and we need groceries again.  Tonya says we should pop in to the other shop we saw that sell batteries, and price them there.  We go to the grocery store and then to the battery shop, which is literally a stone’s throw away.  A small hunched over guy that grinds his jaw comes out to see what we want.  Tonya tells him, he yells something then another, more ‘regular’ guy comes out to see what is up.  I do the drill, pop the hood and get out to see what he thinks.  This guy checks the battery and says it could be the problem, as it is low on a charge.  He says it could also be the alternator, and he will do a few quick tests to see which one is faulty.  Tonya tells him that we do not have long as we have fresh groceries in the car; he reassures us that it only takes a few minutes.

The simple test takes some more testing, and he informs us that he will pull the alternator and check it in the shop.  He gets the hunched over guy to go pull the alternator and bring it back in to the shop.  Tonya says she will go have a cigarette.  I stand there and watch them start to ‘test’ the alternator.  They are talking and the hunchback guy is sent away to get something.  I walk outside and tell Tonya to come stand inside and keep tabs on these guys.  I start to get really frustrated.  It is times like these when I feel so helpless.  I stand in a shop with 4 guys who are talking back and forth and I have no clue what they are saying.  All I know is I have chicken and beef in the car and they have my alternator in a vice.  I just know I am going to get chumped and I really start to resent this whole thing.  The hunchback comes out lugging an old battery.  He hooks some cables to hit then touches the two ends together sending sparks everywhere.  I fear that this is it…the hunchback will make these batteries blow up, showering me in acid and I will miss out on the chicken that so patiently waits in the car.  The two guys touch the alternator and it lights up a light bulb on the wall.  To me, this says all is well.  To the mechanic it means tear the alternator apart.  I tell Tonya to remind the master mechanic that our groceries are in the car.  He shakes his head and says it will only take a few more minutes.  The hunchback keeps touching the ends of the cables together sending sparks over the shop floor.  I don’t understand it; he seems to like the sound it makes.  Repeat: he goes to work on the alternator and Tonya steps out to smoke again.

When the hunchback and the master melt some soldered points on the alternator and break some screws, I knew it was over.  We would not walk away for free; the Mexicans have just taken revenge on the 6’7” mute who has been quietly watching them while they made fun of me amongst themselves.  I go fetch Tonya and she comes back in.  I am angry because she keeps walking off, letting these pepperbellies raise the stakes as to how much they will make off us.

Frankenstein's lab (note all the photos overhead)

The diagnosis could easily have been guessed when the screws were broken.  There was no way Dr. Frankenstein would be putting this machine back together again.  In his kindness, Dr. Frankenstein offers to sell us a new alternator for about 2400 pesos ($200).  Thankfully, Tonya says no and tells him we’ll keep our faulty alternator.  He doesn’t stop.  How about 1800 pesos? No.  He offers us a deal on the rebuilt alternator for 1200 pesos.  Tonya parlays this to me.  I am livid.  I tell her to tell him ok, but we will not pay for a battery as well…and we want to make sure we have a full warranty.  It is one or the other.  She translates to him and he agrees.  He sends the hunchback out to bring our battery in and install the alternator.    The hunchback drops off our battery on the floor near the master.  The master looks at it and funnily enough, makes the same quip as the other guy, “No wonder it is bad, it is a gringo battery”.  I notice a sticker on the side of our battery.  It reads MADE IN MEXICO.  I nudge Tonya and tell her to ask Dr. Frankenstein about this fine point.  He sees it and concludes, it doesn’t matter.  It is a ‘gringo’ battery because it was not bought here. We are told to leave our battery there overnight and he would charge it up. They were going to lend us one of theirs until we returned.

The following day we get a start on our day and when we start the car, it turns over very slowly.  I look to Tonya and she has her brows furrowed.   She is visibly not pleased.  “What do we do?” she asks.  I said we just do what we have to do and see what happens.  We will go later to get our battery.  We run our errands and put off going back Frankenstein’s workshop.  We decide to give it one more day.

The next day we are off and to the mechanic as early as we could be.  He smiles and waves as we pull up.  The hunchback grunts something and I smile at him as we walk into the shop.  The master calls the hunchback in and he disappears behind a door.  He comes out with what looks like a huge eyedropper.  The mechanic waits for the hunchback to pull our battery over to him.  He squats and inserts the eyedropper into the cells of the battery.  Two of them are dead.  I have already started whispering to Tonya that he is going to tell us it is toast.  He does.  Tonya barks at him about this happening, saying she already said she was not going to buy both.  The hunchback stands back why Dr. Frankenstein makes the hard sell.  I want to get closer, and as I step towards them my head hits a framed picture hanging from above.  It crashes to the floor and they all look at me.  No one asks about my head.  I bend over and pick up the photo and frame (all is ok) and put it back together and back in its original place before it met my head.

The battery!

Now we are faced with the very situation I harped on to Tonya about.  We have been duped.  The mechanic tried to sell us an alternator for 2400 pesos.  Now we are faced with buying a battery anyway, the cost of which combined with the alternator will equal…2400 pesos.  I have one last chance to stand up.  As he shows us the batteries on the wall, we ask what is the difference.  He says none, just the names and slight differences in price.  He points to one brand ‘America Racing’ and says this is the best.  I take my chance and act a bit of a smart-alec and ask again “Which one is best?”  He points again to the same battery.  “This one?” I ask waiting for him to take the bait.  He shakes his head yes.  “You know why it is the best battery…” I say looking at him, but before he can answer I point my finger at the first word of the brand name A M E R I C A. “That’s why it is the best!  America!” and I point my finger up, for # 1.  I know now that I have convinced him of what a silly gringo I am.  I don’t care, I made my case.

Around Town (pt.1)

While arranging my blog items, I rediscovered some images I have snapped that I found interesting, or they simply reminded me of someone back home. Some of the images have their own stories, and some speak for themselves.  Here are some of those snaps;

The No. 1

No. 1

This is where Tonya pops in from time to time to grab some smokes or something to drink.  I just like the fact that it is so tiny and not too inviting.  When you stand at the counter and look right, you can see where the family lives that runs the place...basically, it is like looking in their living room.  Odd place, but I like it!




The Tortilla Stand

Here is a snap taken while walking past one of the tortilla places.  I like this place, especially the guy sitting down.  He always has a neat hairstyle and the way he handles your tortillas is kind of nice...like a real pro, with care and attention to detail.  take note; only stupid foreigners ask for tortillas by amount, real Mexicans ask by weight (yes, and it is metric

The actual tortilla joint is small, so the masa sits on the side of the street.  Every so often a guy comes out with a can of water and sprinkles it on to the awaiting dough so that it stays nice and fresh.


The Pepper Place

In the local market there is this certain guy we like to get our peppers from.  Typical market man, he deals in coldcuts, cheese, cartons of milk and of course, chorizo and peppers.  Try to time your pepper buying when pops is there.  The daughter does a crap job.  She doesn't do good scoops and never gives you enough juice.  So far, this guy is the prince of peppers.

The peppers.  Kinda gross hanging under chorizo though.

Mobile Salsa

Nothing too outrageous about this, just your typical taco vendor on a bike.  I like the fact that you peddle around with your food and lug your jug of salsa around with you on the streets. AWESOME!

'Got yer hot sauce right here buddy'

Tacos, Weenies & Twinkies

I know taco trucks are no big deal.  However, this was the first time I had seen a 'taco car', moreso a taco Volkswagen.

Tacos de guisado...straight outta the passenger seat.

Mexican food is fantastic (as you probably already know).  However, I am still unsure about these food products...

Is Fud food?????

...and what is up with this delicacy?

When I first saw this it took me a minute to realize it was not a typo.

Cars, etc.

Walking the dogs is routine.  Sometimes you pass things and have to do a double take because they just don't make sense.  This is a great example.  I noticed something was odd about this VW.  I bent over and took a closer look.  I immediately thought of Steve Minatra.  This one's for you!

The wonders of zip ties.

Who needs to pay for those expensive, trendy graphic wraps on your car or truck.  A piece of paper and a Sharpie can get you the same effect...won't it?

whu...really?

 

 

Holy Roller

Simply put;  saw this and immediately understood the term 'riding with Jesus'.

...and speaking of the Messiah.

Dogs On Roofs

Dogs on roofs are nothing new...atleast in third world countries.  I had not seen many dogs on roofs in downtown of one of the world's largest cities though.  More to the point, a great Dane and two Dachshunds on the same roof over looking traffic!

and a close up of the two little guys.

...and Finally.

Popo & The Moons

It was a little like tag team visiting.  All day had been grey and rainy, and the one time there was a break in the weather, we decided to make a break for it and go mess around a bit.  However, we did not get too far.  Not far at all.  The battery was dead.  NO sooner had we peeped under the hood had it started to rain again.  Back inside and stare at the walls.

Lulu had called and said she was coming by later, Mordo said he may come as well.  This was making Tonya a bit edgy because she could not decide what should be on the menu for dinner tonight.  One thing would have to meatless, because Mordo is cutting down on his intake of the red stuff.  We decided to wait until they got here and we would play it by ear.

Lulu was on time, like always.  She said she would be here at 6, and she was!  Typical routine, say hellos, sit throw out the latest news and gossip while the water boils for tea.  After the tea, break out the tequila and sit and chat until it is time to eat.  Mordo had not shown up, so we opted out for the simple thing to do during rain and being saddled with a dead battery, PIZZA!

We had already chomped through a few slices when Mordo showed up.  Yes, he was carrying a plastic bag with his already opened bottle of tequila.  He obviously started his own party already.  He’s wearing a scarf (it is actually quite chilly today) and it looks like a Burberry one.  Believe it or not, this will plague me all night because I will keep looking at it wondering if he really threw down the dough to get an actual Burberry scarf.  To myself, I say it is a fake.  It is Saturday night and Mordo has his bottle in tow so this can mean only one thing, he’s in for the loooooonnnng haul.

We sit for a while and chat while Mordo basically has a piece of pizza on his plate for decoration.  He is more interested in his drink than the food.  We pig out and eventually, Mordo finishes his piece.  As it nears 10pm, Lulu informs us that she has to go.  Mordo has called a mutual friend and tries to convince us all to go to her place.  As preparations are being made as to what to do next, Mordo gives a heavy warning to us all about drinking and driving.  It is Saturday night and the kooks are out.  Yes, he is practicing what he preaches because he took a cab over.  He tells of how the cops are out in full swing, catching chumps left and right for drinking.  Loulou verifies his tale, saying that form Thursday through Saturday night, they are heavy duty.  Supposedly, there is ZERO tolerance for drinking here.  If you have one drink and get behind the wheel and get busted, you are sent to “El Torito” (the slammer) for 36 hours and your car impounded.  They both have friends who have experienced this.  Mordo’s eyes are wide as he says, “Tim, seriously, can you imagine getting thrown into that place for 36 hours?  You have no idea of who is in there already!” I agree with Mordo, jail in any form is a scary and bad thing to have to face, especially El Torito.  Lord only knows what kind of kooked out, greased up bad-ass Mexican is in there with Arizona ‘issues’ bouncing through his head. Yikes!

Lulu laughs and as a cloud of smoke withers away in front of her she says, “Yes, this is true, but I have a friend who says they serve great chilaquiles in the morning” needless to say, this gets an obvious round of laughter.   Lulu looks a bit serious and ponders if she might have a target on her back on the way home; after all, she has had a bit to drink.  She grabs her purse and pulls out some gum.  As she is unwrapping it she asks us, “Do you think this will help?  Just in case.” She says laughing as she pops it in her mouth.

Best of luck Lulu.  We exchange goodbyes and she is off into the night, only to play taxi later for her son.  Speaking of taxis, Mordo has convinced us to go to Liliana’s place, not too far form here.  He has phoned her and informed her that we are on our way.  Tonya called a cab and in no time at all, the doorbell rings and our carriage awaits.

Our can driver is a heavy set guy.  He humps over the wheel as he drives, and stares straight ahead.  He has the demeanor of a paranoid prison escapee.  I can’t understand what he is saying, but he seems nice enough.  No joking, not even a minute outside our door that we pass an entourage of cops on the feeder of the periferico, pulling people over for breath tests.  Yes, their paddy wagon is parked and waiting for all those getting a free ride to ‘El Torito’ where they can dream all night long of their luscious chilaquiles that daylight will bring.  The drive is short, and in no time we are at Liliana and Caesar’s.  It was a bit awkward, as Liliana’s was not fully aware that we were going to be houseguests tonight.  Caesar was sitting on the couch, wrapped up in viewing a new mixing program for his studio.  Liliana was on the phone downstairs.  We walk in to a peaceful night at home, and now they must entertain.  Mordo doesn’t care, he’s got his tequila and now more people to chat to. Liliana comes upstairs and apologizes for not greeting us.  A typical round of embraces and kisses and then she asks if we are hungry.  She and César have yet to eat (what!  This late?) And says she will make them something quick to eat.  César says it is too late, not to bother, but she disappears to go get some food anyway. 

She returns with two plates of single tostadas.  As she is crunching into hers, she tells us that this brand of store bought tostada is amazingly crisp and absolutely no fat or grease whatsoever.  César makes a quip about getting to the ‘bordello’ before Mordo gets too drunk.  They laugh and I have no clue what they are laughing about.  As soon as the crispy tostadas are finished and the plates hauled away, César rubs his hands and makes a sweeping motion upward, “Ok, let’s get up to the studio”.  Liliana seems happy about the suggestion and stands ready to lead us up into César’s studio.  We walk down a long hallway, up some stairs and out onto a roof top.  There is a large tent set up, with plenty of seating around.  César stands like a proud father and motions the perimeter of the roof, “This is the ‘bordello’.  I call it that because of the lighting” True, it is dimly lit and a bit seedy looking.

“I love it up here” Liliana explains, “One side is all trees and mountains and the other side looks out on to the lights and traffic of the city”

“It is nice up here” I concur, “Especially looking out over the lights and seeing the huge McDonalds arches over there” 

César is a musician.  He’s been around a bit. Cut his chops in London, during the whole punk explosion, during ’76 and ’77.  “That was a great time…a crazy time.  I loved it” he says stating the obvious.    He spent a brief stint in Germany and ended up in LA finally succumbing to all the glories that Los Angeles brings.  He actually died for 12 seconds, laid on a cold steel plank.  He had a heart attack.  After that experience he decided to come home, and get out of the rat race.  So-now he has a rooftop studio and does his composing and recording at home. (For those taking notes, he’s done records for Windham Hill, and worked with the likes of Mark Isham and all those ‘new age’ folks)  Cesar is immediately likeable.  He is friendly, smart and sports and extremely close cropped hair do…practically bald.  I laugh how just moments after coming outside and sitting down, he runs into the studio then comes back out with a ski cap on his head and bundled up in a jacket, “Hey man, it’s cold!  I have no hair and my ears are cold” he says sitting straight and taught in his chair.

We are sitting there chatting away about this and that when all of a sudden César says, “Did you see Jupiter?”  I thought I missed out on some LA new age secret.  He asks again, then comments that it should be out again in a few moments after the clouds move.  He points to the night sky, to the glowing clouds.  I simply reply the truth, “No” César asks me another simple question, which I find quite odd. “You have never seen Jupiter through a telescope?”  He asks as if that is something everybody does for fun.  I think about it and again tell him the truth, “No.  Not that I can remember”

Jupiter and its four moons (courtesy of mikesastrophotos.com)

César gets up and goes into the studio again and returns with a telescope.  He gets busy getting it set up and focused.  Once again the clouds cover it up and he sits down with his hand between his legs to keep warm.  As soon as a glimmer of Jupiter peeks over the clouds, he’s up and back at it. “It’s here. It’s beautiful!” He says with excitement, once he has the planet focused. “It has four moons” he adds.  I get up and walk across the roof to where the makeshift observatory is set up.  “Try not too look straight at it.  It is very bright” and he makes way for me to look in.  What can I say?  I see Jupiter!  It is bright and yes, I do see its moons.  However, I spot two, and then a third.  I cannot see the fourth.  He calls Tonya over.  She too, is a bit excited over the celestial peeking going on. “Awesome” she says with a huge smile on her face.

“What else can we look at?” I ask like a kid.  There are clouds in the sky, so the view is a bit obscured.  César says that there really isn’t much to see tonight. ‘Let’s look at the moon!” I say. 

As César re-adjusts the telescope, he tells a few tales, much to my amusement.  “This used to be great for the girls” he says taking his eyes off the scope to let me in on the ensuing ‘guy thing’.  “You get close to them…you put your hands here…look here…It was great!  They loved it.  It was a real hit with them” and he laughs at his own memories of the nights with his telescope.  “Oh.  It looks great.  Here” and he hands me the lens.  The moon is super bright.  It is amazing the detail we see.  Once again, Tonya is called over to look at another planet.  Again, she is amazed and comments on the clarity and detail.

The 'popo' and 'izta' volcanoes

César and I stand on the roof and continue to talk.  There is no more planet viewing as the clouds have moved in for good now.  He tells me of a project he is finishing up, and album based on an ancient Indian fairytale of the two outlying volcanoes that can be seen from his roof on clear days.   The “Izta” Iztaccihuatl and the “Popo” or Popocatepetl.  The story is fascinating.  In a nutshell, it is about a princess (Izta) who has been poisoned by a bad guy while her prince (Popo) is away.  When he returns home from war a huge hero, he has no idea that his princess has been put to sleep by the poison.  He vows to stay by her side for ever.  Thus, you have the two volcanoes which over look Mexico City, the ‘Izta’ the sleeping princess and her mate, the ‘Popo’ who sits for all time by her side, awaiting her to wake again.

When César goes into the details and the linguistics, it is amazing.  Apparently, César is really into ancient Mexican history and language.  He is of Nahautl descent.  This is a dying language, an ancient one, as he informs me.  “Funny isn’t it?  I ended up all the way in LA at UCLA to study a language from my own homeland” he says shaking his head.  There is something very neat about this moment.  We stand on a rooftop, overlooking the city around us, and César explains in detail the fairytale and the use of the actual words in the native Nahautl tongue.  He tells of different facts and information about this area, ancients Mexico City and the concern he has over the loss of the ancient languages spoken here.  It is very important to him for these languages to survive.  I agree.

After standing on the roof edge, chatting of Aztecs and such, he changes tone and invites me in to his studio.  It is small, but fit.  He has just outfitted the isolation booth and finished some wiring.  He shows me all his percussion.  There is a huge, amazing wooden drum in the corner.   It is his pride and joy, custom made by a guy who still makes ancient Aztec musical instruments in Tepoztlan.  It was carved from a tree trunk, and is played with you on top of the drum, straddling the monstrosity.  He has some neat stuff, and the story for each drum is interesting in its own right.  I pick up a plastic shaker, made to look like a bell pepper, “Ahhh, and what about this, the pepper.  Where is the matching banana” I ask jokingly.

“I have!” he says, and immediately starts rumbling through his chest of assorted percussion thingies.  He pulls out assorted fruits shaped shakers, “Here is a pear.  Oh, a peach too.”  He keeps looking, “I know I have a banana.  I do” he raises his head up and says that their daughter had a party the other night on the roof, and someone must have stolen the banana.  He is holding a lemon and a lime shaker, “I have these though” he says smiling with his hands outstretched. He starts shaking them to an obvious Latin beat, “It is wonderful isn’t it?  They sound great! It is 6/8 timing” he says beaming.  He stops and then explains a few different time measures.  “Here, you want to try?  Do it” he tells me.  I politely refuse to take his lemon and lime and say I cannot keep time like that.

I have no clue what Tonya, Liliana and Mordo have been doing all this time and I don’t care.  Although I have no clue about all the studio talk and the instrument histories, I am enjoying César’s company and his enthusiasm.  He has invited me into his world and it is interesting, he is interesting.

It is late now, almost 3am.  I am over it and cold.  Mordo wants to drink more and César and Liliana offer us a ride home.  Liliana’s yawn tells us all that she is ready for bed too.  On the way home, Mordo asks if we are really ready for bed, “You don’t want to stay up longer?  Have some more tequila?”  We invite him in and Tonya asks if she should make him a bed.  He seems a bit let down that our partying is over.  He pours another glass of tequila and sits at the table, a bit somber.  He says he will go home if we will not stay up.  A cab is called for him and he swigs his last glass of tequila.  There is enough time for him to have his drink and Tonya to smoke. 

The sudden ring of the doorbell means it is time to say goodbye, hug and walk the guest out to his waiting ride home. 

Vomit Juice and Pot Bellies

Maria Antonia has brought her sister, Reyna, home for the next two weeks.  So, now we have an extra barefooted, pot-bellied little body around.  She doesn’t say much.  Truthfully, she mostly has a scared look on her face, but eventually breaks it with a smile and usually a whisper when she speaks. 

Reyna

On the other hand, Maria Antonia plays the big sister to the hilt.  She constantly harasses the little sibling.  Continually monitoring what she eats, she will happily broadcast just how much and of what her little sister has eaten at any given time.  I suppose they are not unlike two brothers in some ways.  They exchange hits and slaps, maybe even a tug of hair. Speaking of hair, Maria Antonia happily tells how she cut off her sister’s hair before they arrived back home.  Reynita had loooong black hair, dangling down below her butt.  Now, it sits a short way below her shoulders.  Maria Antonia shakes her head with pride when asked if she cut her sister’s hair.  Why?  “Because she’s lazy and she does nothing with it.  It was a mess.  She didn’t wash it…” is her justification to taking matters in her own hands.

It is not all bad though.  There are many times that they are hugging and laughing.  When they leave the house, they usually leave hand in hand.  They make a sweet coupling of sisters.  It is easy to sense their closeness and love for one another.  There are times when this is such a welcome sight, it naturally brings a smile to your face.

One day we had no idea where they had gone.  I was standing outside in the backyard talking to Tonya while she was having a cigarette.  I decided just to peep into Maria’s room to see if they were actually at home.  They were.  Both of them were wrapped arm in arm on a single bed.  The big sister hugging the little one, sharing the same pillow, watching the tiny TV she has in her room.  I smiled as I looked in, “Yep, they are here…” I told Tonya.  She immediately told me to back away in case they thought I was some freak, spying on them.  I felt odd because it was an innocent moment and sweet to see.  True, I don’t want to be the lanky cranky guy who stares at them through the back window. 

Bonding with Sunny

Kitchen time is something to be heard...  The wit and wisdom exchanged between the two is a constant source of entertainment.  Maria Antonio scolding Reynita with words of the wise, “No Reynita!  If you press your tortillas while heating them your husband will not love you as much…”   Some other thing will go wrong in your love life if you cook your eggs the wrong way.  Oh the wisdom of small villages and superstition.

When a traveling fair set up not too far away, the two sisters were obviously going to make it a 'must do'.  One the day they decide to go, Maria pulls her little sister into the living room to meet approval.  It is going to be a big night, so they are both dressed to the nines.  Maria makes little Reynita turn in a circle so that all her glowing beauty is revealed.  On a night like this, it must be perfect, even the make-up Reyna will sport to the big event.  After the thumbs up, the two head of in a breath of excitement and Tonya smiling, 'Aren't they so cute?"

 It was not uncommon that Maria Antonia would force her sister to stay in the room and study.  She would often complain that Reynita would end up watching tv or sleeping, rather than staying up on school work.  Maria Antonia thinks Reynita needs to brush up.  Both of them came into the room and Reyna stood back silently with a notebook in hand when Maria asked if I would check her math homework.  She had done well.  Maria then asked for me to make up some division problems and have Reynita solve them on the spot.  I smiled as I watched her ponder the pair of simple problems.  She takes some time, then hands me her notebook.  before I can get it, she pulls it back and motions 'no' and waves her hands.  She realized she had made a mistake and spends a few more minutes correcting it before handing it back.

Big sis checking homework.

The unexpected guest brings some bumps in home life too.  Their giant tortillas take up so much counter space.  They are huge and crispy.  You are supposed to wet them and warm them up, and then rip them into shreds to have with your meal. However, these monstrosities can take a while to get through. The giant pizza sized tortillas hogged counter space for days. 

They were also thrilled about some fruit they brought home.  I have no idea what it was called, but they looked like little berries.  I could hear the blender going and when I walked into the kitchen there was a blender full of…stuff.  Maria Antonia offered me some juice form these berries, I politely declined.  They pointed to a glass and said “That is the senora’s”.  I asked Tonya how it was.  She looked to see if the girls were around and made a face, ‘Tastes like vomit” she said. At this very moment I was so glad I had not opted for a big fresh glass of vomit juice. 

The berries that make the vomit juice

So what happens when two weeks turn into three?  Three into four?  Three into who knows when?  A bit of fear sets in, that’s what!  Things started to go get a bit out of sorts when one day Maria Antonia announced that she was going to be away for the weekend, and would leave her sister here. “What is your sister going to do all weekend?” was a very simple question Tonya asked. “She will stay in the room and only come out to eat…” was the simple reply from Maria Antonia.  Obviously, this was not a wise move.  I have no idea what really transpired between Tonya and Maria Antonia, except neither party was very happy.  Tonya was aghast at the thought of leaving a 12 year old alone; especially she has no contact number, info, or anything if something were to happen.  This was a real concern to Tonya, but not too much to Maria.  From this point on, there is no turning back.

Call it coincidence or a sharpening of vision, but for the next few days a strange phenomenon occurred.  Food started to disappear.  No one is pointing fingers, but the little pot-bellied guest does have to eat.  A whole box of cereal almost vanishes overnight.  Two consecutive meals are forced into improvisation when the meat and chicken suddenly disappear.

Was all the laughing and cavorting going upstairs during bath time so much fun, or were they really laughing at the fact that they were using up all of the brand new shampoo?

Yes, it came into very sharp focus that bits and pieces of things were vanishing.  The more things disappeared, the more withdrawn Maria and her sister were becoming.  Tonya had to say something. 

It was no surprise that any missing food and beauty products were denied knowledge of, at least by Maria.  She did say that maybe her little sis had snuck things out behind her back.  No need to accuse.  Tonya just said that they were welcome to anything, as long as they ask.  The counter offensive was harsh.  Big pots of rice pudding hogging the stove.  Rice and beans take a second place. Perhaps intentional, the crusty dishes stay in place, further maddening Tonya when came time to cook. When the two made it out for shopping, they would parade straight into Maria’s room with bags full of food to be stored in her closet and on the mantle.  Too much.  The little guest was more than welcomed, but now the two sisters are inviting in roaches and mice.  Time for a serious clean up, both in room and attitude.

Our new house guest was now past her initial stay time.  When asked for an update, Maria Antonia says she will stay here until school starts again in mid August.  This is big news to the both of us, especially since Tonya has her niece and nephew due to arrive in a week.  It’s not nice, but a decision is made that Reyna must move on.  Her brother lives in town, and if she will stay until school starts, she can do it from her brother’s house.  It all comes to a head when Maria Antonia says she must work away all weekend again.  This time there is no excuse, before she left to be away for the weekend, she would have to make sure her sister was on her way to her brothers.  It would happen much faster than I thought.

In the morning as we are putting the leashes on the dogs for their regular walk, Tonya informs me that Reyna is leaving and I should say good bye.  No sooner do the words come out then Reyna and Maria Antonia step out side.  They meet up with us as I am unlocking the gate.  I try my best to express a nice greeting to Reyna, but it ends up all in English, “Reynita, it was nice to meet you.  I hope you have a great time at your brother’s…” and she smiles, having no idea what I am saying. “Do good in school, ok?”

How fitting.  We go right, and they go left.  As we are going our separate ways I hear them giggling.  I look back to see the two sisters pulling down branches of an overhanging fig tree, pulling figs off as they stand on the sidewalk.  Things may have gone somewhat sour, but I was happy to see them both laughing and carrying on as we were literally going our separate ways.

The Dancers

One thing we are trying to do is to get a bit more familiar with our surroundings.  Personally, I like to explore.  I like to know where you can buy things, where certain stores are or quite simple, places you need to stay away from.  I think Tonya is getting this too.

One Sunday she said, ‘Let’s go walk around Coyoacan”.  Fine by me.  I have read that it is a part of ‘old’ Mexico, but it is probably more widely known for that uni-brow freak, Frida Kahlo.  Yes, this is where she grew up and kept a home.  I think Trotsky lived here too, and was killed here.  I have no interest in either really, so I am going to just mess around.

I am glad we came today.  Much to our surprise, there is a market today.  There are loads of people everywhere and a very kind of laid-back vibe.  I much prefer this to the hectic, trendy fast paced ‘cool’ spots that you are supposed to visit as a scenester or wannabe.  Now, you tell me, would I be able to find shoes like this if we only frequented ‘cool’ or ‘hot’ spots?

So.  There is this huge crowd of people on a corner.  This is supposed to be some fantastic coffee.  Hmmm, take note, we’ll come back, first we have to see what else is out here.  As we wonder form plaza to plaza, there is something new and different every 15 steps.  Music is floating through the air, and as we draw closer towards we it is originating from, there are more and more people dancing.  It is a wonderful sight.  It is lovely weather, and seeing all the couples dancing is really a treat.  Better yet, most of the people dancing are older.  They are reminiscing and re-living the music that is important to them.  The band is older too, and they are playing old Mexican love songs and favorites.  I see one old-timer who just looks awesome.  He and his wife are moving slowly, and he’s throwing down some seriously debonair moves.  I do not want to intrude (actually, it would have been hard to), so I stand across some bushes and start to take snaps of this lovely couple.  Tonya asks if I am filming.  This in turn makes me realize that I actually can film with this handy camera.  I flip the switch and catch a few great moments, look….

After watching the dancers for a bit, we continue to stroll around.  As we near another plaza, there is more music wafting above our heads.  This is from some shabby Beatles cover band though.  As we get closer to another market, the sound becomes annoying.  It is hard to beat bad Beatles covers, but hearing them blaring out of a cheap PA…well, it can make you ponder the exponential possibilities of bad taste.  Why we walk through the corridor of bad music is beyond me, but it opens up to a sizeable, two story market in its own hidden plaza.  I can tell you this, if you want to buy anything with a pot leaf on it, this is the place to do it.  Stall after stall with cheap pot motifs. Candles, lamps, shirts, patches, stickers, you name it.  Of course, the obligatory three dudes are in tow, Marley, Che and Lennon.  Why are these three always found in close proximity of dope (or true life dopes)?  I realize what we have walked in to, an open air head shop!  Yes, I should have put two and two together when the cheap incense washed me upon walking through the gateway.  We do a quick once over, and head toward greener pastures. 

While strolling around, Tonya mentions the coffee place.  So, we reverse direction and head back to the coffee spot.  She thinks it a good idea to grab one to go and go sit on one of the plazas and people watch.  We stand in line, but after a few moments get our prized drinks, and push our way through the crowd which has multiplied immensely while our backs were turned.  A few doors down is a churro stand, so we grab an order to chomp with our drinks.  As the file of people fans out into a nearby plaza, we find a seat on a flower bed and sit down.  I get a sip of coffee in, and as I am thinking about my professional critique on it, Tonya utters a stern ‘SHIT!’, and is immediately thrown into a bad mood.  Before I know what happened, I see cappuccino flowing at my feet.  Believe me, I know exactly how she feels, and I try to ease the frustration by offering her my coffee.  I even ask if I should go back to get her another.  She refuses, and stews a bit.  It sucks.  It sucks when you get something you have been looking forward to and then you drop it…like a goofy kid who is singing so happily because you got your favorite ice cream.  In your ecstasy, you sway a bit too much and drop your lovely scoop of ice cream onto the concrete…or better yet, dirt.  How can this be!  I was so ecstatic and life was perfect for one brief moment?  Now, the world sucks, I hate everyone and all I want to do is disappear.  I know this is what she was thinking.  Ok, maybe not per se, but I know she was probably saying “I hate this place and I hate coffee”

We manage to get everything back to ‘normal’ and enjoy sitting and chatting for a while longer.  It always amazes me at the amount of bad haircuts and blue jean styles on parade here.  Truly amazing.  I soon notice that the nice sheen has worn off, because I have just come to my senses that we have been sitting downwind of the awful Beatles covers.  They are still going on! 

A family spots the empty bricks on the other side of us, and quickly move in to claim their spot. As we sit and chat about the nerds on parade in front of us, I notice coffee creeping across the ground coming form the opposite side of me.  I look up to see another unfortunate victim staring at their coffee run across paving stones coming to terms with the belief of ‘it can’t happen to me!’  Life is harsh at times and I turn to Tonya and nudge her.  I point to the coffee puddle forming to the left of me.  This is our cue to move on.