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.