After yoga and some running around yesterday, Mabel and I came home to shower and get ready for our afternoon soccer game. I was unsure if this was a playing game or a watching game. I knew it would be most of the same crowd from the birthday party Saturday night, but was unaware of how competition would come into play. Just in case, I dressed in my white abercrombie shorts (the most athletic thing I have here minus yoga clothes and I was not going to sport that!) from either 8th grade or tenth (I really think it was 8th because that's when Patrick would've been working there- not to mention the inseam is long, so it must've been the early days. Even if they're from 10th, that was twelve years ago. I've got to learn to let go, but that's some quality clothing!). I sported my tennis shoes and a tank top. I would look the part of American, but I was more interested in looking the part of sweating less since I'm not in jeans.
We left the house in time to get to our sushi lunch at 2:00 on the dot. I went for the fried kind, against better judgment. It was good, but I really like traditional sushi.
We had been told the soccer would start at 3. Surely by now, you know where this story is going...?
We left the restaurant at 3, so I was excited that we wouldn't be arriving before the original plan. We got to San Pedro (a little community) around 3:20. There were only four streets in the town, so we followed all of them and found no soccer field, and consequently, no people we knew. I called Alma and got no answer. I left a message, but it was a recording, not her voice. We sat under a tree for the next 45 minutes. I called again and also sent a text. No dice.
At 4, we decided to call it a day. Alma's is the only number I have, and I didn't know any of the other people there. We headed back toward Culiacán, making a mental list of the things we needed from the grocery store. Sunday is grocery shopping day. Just like Saturday is cleaning day.
Halfway between San Pedro and Culiacán (can you fill in the independent clause?), we got a call from Alma. She told us how to get where we were going, though she was still in Culiacán. We were to look for a Modelo (a beer brand that had a big stand where we should turn) and then a bridge. Those were the directions we'd had the first time when we canvassed San Pedro.
We drove in circles for fifteen more minutes. At the entrance to San Pedro (which we were certain was not where we were supposed to me), there was a Modelo. We tried the street after the Modelo, just for kicks (I was certain that it would lead to one of the four streets we had already traveled). Sure enough, we came to a field that looked all too familiar. Lucky for us, there were two gentlemen sitting on the side of the road. We stopped and asked. Mind you, I've been told (even by Mexicans) not to take directions from a Mexican. We asked them how to get where we were going. (Mabel had another name) They told us to look for a Modelo. Check. Then there would be a little bridge. Wow. To top it off, one of the guys was holding a Modelo beer can. Mabel and I were dying laughing. I had tears rolling down my cheek. You had to be there, but it was such a "this figures" moment.
When we finally got where we were going, we saw that the soccer game was nothing like what I had expected. It was an "inflatable" that had about eight inches of soapy water in the bottom of it. Turner would've loved it. Me, not so much. Mabel, Cosette and I chilled on the sidelines while the meat was being cooked. At 6, Alma finally arrived. Mabel and Cosette ate some carne asada (the phrase they use for a cookout, but also the name of the meat you can choose for a taco), and then we left. We had had enough!
From there, we did our grocery shopping and then headed home.
In the six weeks I've been here, we've gone to five different grocery stores- never the same one twice. Mabel is a bit like my friend Claire in that sense. Never going home the same way you went somewhere. I suppose she likes the variety. We've come to find which grocery store we spend less in, though, and that's the first one we went to. My suspicion is that it has more to do with timing than the actual store and prices. The first week, I had no idea what I would want to eat, how much we would eat out, or what foods were available. I was along for the ride.
No comments:
Post a Comment