over the soccer

So I'm up and at 'em this morning and have the tv on for background noise.  There's a soccer game on.  The rabbit ears are not positioned just so, so it's a bit fuzzy; I have no intention of fixing it.

The sporty spice version of Laura came with a desire to watch football on tv.  I'm think that will never happen with soccer.  It's fun in person.  On the screen it seems so much slower.  My honeymoon with soccer is over.

Soccer

Starting a blog entry at 4:15 is not a good idea.  But, if I don't do it now, it won't be as exciting.   Not to mention I'm wide awake, and tomorrow I'll no doubt be a zombie (and not wanting to do any blogs)!

While we were doing laundry today, I saw in the paper that there was a soccer game tonight.  Living right next to the stadium, even though we have never known in advance (I kind of think they just throw their schedule together at the last minute here), it would have been easy to go to a game.  The street fills with cars and you can hear the crowds.

When we left Papá's, we stopped by the stadium to get tickets.  We got the cheapest ones which were 50 pesos.  That basically meant we were behind the goal in unnumbered cement rows.  

At 7, we left the house and made our way to the north gate.  I had SUCH a good time!  

Culiacán's team is called the Dorados, which means goldfish.  The middle picture above was my attempt to capture the mascot.  Unfortunately, lots of little kids got in my way and a good picture was impossible.  The mascot has bulging legs and torso (which is funny, considering it's a fish) and kind of a cartoonish head.  I cracked up every time I saw him!

We got there within the first five minutes of play.  But imagine my surprise as I saw that play clock on 7:57 when the last time I had seen it it said 5:38.  The clock goes forward!  

Now, it's no surprise that I'm not a true Sporty Spice.  I have come a long way, but I still have plenty to go.  But here's the thing.  I feel like I more or less get the goal of basketball.  Football, I have a serious handle on (relative to the handle I had on it just three years ago).  Baseball I own my ignorance.  

Soccer, on the other hand, I had no idea about, but thought I was with it.

Things that were not how I thought:

1- The clock moves forward.

2- Soccer players are violent (there were 4 yellow cards given in the first half)

3- The ball seems to be very high in the air as often as it is near people's feet.

4- These players all wore different colored shoes.

5- These players would exaggerate falls in hopes of a foul (or yellow card or whatever) and if they didn't get it, miraculously they were on their feet sprinting again.

6- Soccer players are super fast.

7- It's no wonder most of my soccer playing friends in college had ACL surgery.  There is some serious footwork attached!

I definitely have a new appreciation for the game and would actually like to see another (maybe from the good seats) before I leave here.

In the end, we beat León 3-0.  But we left before the time was up because there were cops blocking the León fans (above us) from leaving until the Culichis got out of the way.  I suppose they were trying to prevent trouble, but that didn't work.  As we were exiting, policeman were carrying what looked to be a 3 to 4 year old boy with blood trickling down his face.  I don't know what happened, but we didn't want to stick around to find out.

I hated that it had to end that way because it really was a great experience.

My iPod

This morning, we trekked over to Papá's empty house with my overflowing basket of laundry.  Mabel did laundry in passing last week between her teacher training and picking up Cosette, so I missed out.  I have been to yoga five times and that makes for some VERY dirty laundry.  I also wanted to wash my sheets.

We get there, put my load in, and wait.  This is our typical Saturday routine.  Sometimes I have a book.  Other times, like today, I don't.  I pulled out my iPod and started flipping through songs I have yet to listen to.  While I was listening to The Bangles, Cosette came running over and asked, "Tía, you have one of those?"  She enjoyed some Eternal Flame, Beyoncé, Criss Cross, TI, and Dixie Chicks with me.  I needed to get up and check the laundry, so I taught her how to manipulate it.  She listened and played for a long time, considering my clothes had washing detergent powder all over them after the rinse (probably from having a too-full washer) and needed a second rinse.  The picture I took of the two of us shows her (sometimes annoying) super-star/ham personality, while the one I snuck of her on the porch shows her sweet side.

My Drug Man

Go ahead.  Let out that collective international sigh of relief.  My yoga friend is not, in fact a drug dealer.  There it is... "Phew!"

I have really really enjoyed getting back into yoga, as I have made well known in each yoga entry.  I can't explain to you what a difference it makes.  It gives me something to do, for one.  I have plenty to do on the weekends.  And I love school.  I'm thankful for free afternoons.  I figure for once in my life, I'm not rushing around to make it on time from work to yoga to babysitting to dinner with friends.  I might as well enjoy it, even if it feels a bit lazy.  Yoga also takes the lazy feeling out of the equation.  

Thursday, I decided to walk more of my route to yoga.  I usually de-board downtown and wait about 15 minutes for a bus that will take me 5 more minutes up the main drag.  I decided this time to stay on my bus a little farther down the road and get off and walk the last 15 minutes or so.  That way, I could stop at the Oxxo and get my water.  It would still be cold and I wouldn't have to manhandle so much (iPod, money, phone, towel) on my way there.

It worked like a charm and I enjoyed the walking.  Sometimes the bus just stresses me out.  Walking just seems so nonchalant. 

I'm almost always the first one there, often beating Cristina since I err on the side of early in general, but especially in yoga (in Nashville, you get locked out if you arrive "on time").  I left much too much time for error this time, forgetting that the walking would amount to about the same time as waiting for the bus, changing buses, and riding the bus.  I sat outside the yoga building and people watched.  This street is called Obregón and is the main drag.  It's not really a pretty street, but there's always lots going on.  I watched little boys wash windshields of unwilling customers stopped at red lights.  I watched people rush out of buildings only to take on the calm, moseying pace that defines Mexico (although, not necessarily DF).

I got to yoga, got my mat (that I store there so I have one less thing to carry), and relaxed on the couch.  In walked Cristina and her sister Victoria.  I think Victoria is a doctor based on the discussions she had with some guy whose name I cannot recall (Victor, I think).  This guy is ridiculously hard to understand, and I wonder what it's like for Culichis.  Is it like a thick NY accent?  Or is it like a mumbling kid?  Who knows.  I find my listening skills so interesting.  They're definitely better.  To be in the fastest city, I'm proud of myself.  However, when there are two variables, like with Victor (fast speech and an accent or impediment), I find myself understanding, but at a very delayed rate.  Like if I stopped to think about what I was hearing, I would miss the next part.  But if I just listen, I get it a few seconds delayed.  It's really weird.

In walks Willy, my drug ride.

We do our class, which was hotter, humider (go with the consonance here), and harder!  We did some different salutations and I'm thankful for the flexibility (and breaking up of tension) that's coming to my wrists.  I also was finally able to do the pushups in good form.  Regular Bikram yoga is neither arm nor ab intensive.  This was my fifth class back in a relatively short amount of time, so my arms are getting back where they should be.  The pushups going from down dog to plank to up dog without sinking your hips at all are SO HARD.  But I was finally where I thought I should be.  I have plenty more to go, but I'm content.

After class, I was drenched.  I mean, I looked like I had been swimming.  As of late, the classes here haven't seemed too hot or humid (back in the fall, it was literally hotter outside than it was in the hot yoga room), but last night was CRAZY.

As we're getting ready to leave, Willy says, "Are you ready?"  He had told me he would drive me home whenever, since he lives in the adjoining neighborhood (meaning it would take me about 15 minutes to walk there).  He asked, though, if the next time we could speak English; he wanted to practice.  As dumb as this sounds, I'm not the best at speaking English with people for whom it is their second language.  But we got to the car and he started the conversation off and spoke very well.  He told me last time that English had always interested him, so when HBO came to Mexico, he would watch it with closed captioning, learning accurate pronunciation while seeing that our phonics is not really phonics at all.

Something he said led me to ask about his job, so he explained it all.  I don't totally get it, but he is the owner/CEO or the like of a company that does something with software.  They have an account with IBM in Mexico and he's currently trying to create and distribute an identification software like we have in the US.  At the border, you have to digitally give a fingerprint and all kinds of information pops up about you.  He's actually trying to get that here for drivers licenses and such (which to me makes him a pretty good guy).  He explained that it would allow cops to know if you're a felon- or related to one.  He also takes paper documents and scans them in a way that digitalizes them.  He manages 16 employees with 6 different divisions or departments.  It's a high stress, high travel job, but he likes it.  Seems he makes pretty good bank, too!

As I was getting out of the car, I complimented him (again) on his English (he has friends in the US that he visits regularly, and he studied in Canada, so that helps his initial HBO tutorial), and he said "See you Monday."  It's good to know I won't be hailing as many taxis.  It's only 50 pesos, and I don't feel in danger, but I'm happier to know that I'm not walking a couple of blocks before getting in a car with yet another taxi driver.

Where are you from?

Tuesday night I went to yoga.  I am loving being back into it.  I got into it in the fall, and then I started traveling (and EATING) and got out of it.  Life it balanced and as it should be now that I'm practicing at least twice a week (and often thrice is the goal).  

The ride to yoga takes about an hour.  It's less than 30 minutes to my downtown stop, and then another 15 or less to the end of that street.  The problem is, the bus stop is home to many different lines.  Often, it's so crowded, that the bus I want just passes by (there's no room to pull over and get passengers).  This conveniently saves the driver a few cherished minutes.  It sends me into a slight panic, but I always seem to arrive at 6:45 (class begins at 7).

The Canal Tres (Channel Three) bus that I ride to school is the same bus I take downtown before my transfer.  I have gotten accustomed to its route and consequently the drivers.  I don't know upon seeing them how they drive, but within the first ten seconds of the drive I remember quite clearly.

Some drivers (actually most) are in a big hurry when they get to the stop (any stop).  The careless ones make sure only that the last passenger's foot is off the ground before continuing the drive.  Some of them seemed determined to send their passengers to the ER for dislocated heads.

So, Tuesday night, the driver was one of those in a hurry.  I board the bus armed with my iPod clipped to my pants, yoga clothes on, a beach towel, and a 1.5 liter cold and sweaty bottle of water (think tall and skinny-kind of awkward).  I can tell he's going to try to knock me down.  How intent he was, though, I had no idea.  I hand him my 10 pesos and try to balance as we lurch forward, waiting for my change.  I'm also scouting out the seating situation.  I'm going to have to make it 2/3 of the way to the back before there is a seat.  I can do this.  I get my change and start the walk.  I pass two rows when we apparently reach the next bus stop.  He slammed on his brakes so hard, that I was flung all the way to the dashboard!  It's not quite a bad as it sounds, since there's a bench-like area on the dash.  And I felt it coming.  The problem with momentum, though (as Dr. J taught me at VAMPY) is that there is just nothing you can do about it!  

I laughed it off, made faces at the other passengers, and found a seat.  Before he took off for the next stop.  I don't know why they choose to go so fast when they're going to have to stop in 30 more yards.  But that's their job, not mine.

Alas, I arrive, in one piece to yoga.  I'm pumped and ready (and in a cute outfit- I only have two cute ones with me).  I walk into the garden area and the door to the studio is still locked.  I join the lady who is on the bench and we engage in conversation about the door's being locked and what to expect in class.  This is her first class.  After about two minutes of exchange and at least one "¿Mande?" she asks where I'm from.  I tell her the US, but she's already begun her next sentence.  "Argentina?  Are you from Argentina?  I have friends from there and you sound like them."  She must've been off her rocker.  I've never been to Argentina, nor have I studied under a teacher from there.  I guess my accent was decent (you'll notice I don't use the word good) enough to be legit, just not from Mexico.  I'll still take it.

On another note, I got a ride home from someone who may or may not be a drug dealer.  He had a LOT of money.  And Maribel says not to trust them.  I did not feel in harm at all, and he offered a ride anytime I needed one.  I'll keep you posted.

Yes We Can

Benjamin Franklin Library in Mexico City, November 2008

Sitting in my pajamas from 8:30 am mountain time until about 1, I was entranced in the online coverage of the inauguration.  Being away brings so much more significance to these events for me.  That, combined with the fact that I knew what I was talking about this go round.  I was so emotional and proud of our country and filled with hope.  I was glued to my tiny computer screen.  I decided at 1 that I would venture out to the mall for some Inauguration Day shopping (what better way to celebrate?!) and lunch.  I found lots of things at Zara, as usual.  I was bummed to find some of the things I bought before Christmas seriously marked down.  After my shopping spree, I got some sushi, and cuddled up (can you cuddle up in a mall- well, the teenagers can, but bear with me) with my raw salmon (YUM!), soy sauce, coca light, iPod and Blink.  I spent about 3 hours at the mall, sporting my Obama shirt of course.  It was a great day to take off from school.  It's going to take time; how much?  Who knows.  But this I do know:

Yes.

We.

Can.

Sunday's festivities

Notice Alice (mom Carla) in the background as well as all the balloons.  Maribel is on the left and Rebeca is squeezing my neck.

I managed to get up, get cute, and be happy by 10:30.  Maribel came to the door and off we went.  I climbed into their brand new Ford Escape.  Maribel introduced me to her husband Homero.  I sat in the back with the two girls, Maribel (4th grade) and Rebeca (1st grade), that I met the first month or so I was here.

The ride to church was slow because the main streets were all closed for a marathon.  The conversation among the adults was fine.  The girls weren't sure what to think of me.  They stared and then looked away when they thought they'd been caught.  By the time we arrived at the church, though Rebeca, seated in the middle, had begun holding my hand.

We sat through the mass, which if you read the other blog entry, you know that it was not my favorite time.  After mass, we drove to the outskirts of town to the "weekend home" of the family of the birthday girl.  Maribel tells me along the way that Shania had sent her an email this week telling her to take me with her wherever she went.  Apparently she'd had a bad few days.  I thinks he's just a fun girl stuck in a small town of all married folk.  Her family had met her in NYC for Christmas, so I'm sure she was coming down from the family high.  I certainly hope it all gets much better for her and soon.

The girls and I chatted in the back seat and played games.  I had completely grown on them by the time we got there.  The house was about 20 minutes or more outside of town.  We were the first to arrive and it was a magnificent site.  Maribel told me the reason she chose to ask me to this party is that it would be "muy nice" because the family was so rich.  The theme was Alice in Wonderland.  There were 20 tables of ten set up and balloons everywhere.  There were life size wood characters with lots of glitter.  We chose our table, thankfully not in the sun.  All the tables were under tents, but the angle of the sun was such that the tables on the edge were hotter than the other seats.

To pass the time until the party arrived and more importantly the food, we went to the vendors for some esquite (a creamed corn concoction that is delicious, yet different).  I say vendors, but they weren't selling.  They were rented to serve us just as the carnival rides and clown were.  We ate.  We then went on the hunt for a bathroom.  This was the joke of the day.  The only single bathroom we could find that was unlocked, was the men's bathroom outside the adjoining gas station, and it looked disgusting.  We ended up making about 15 trips back and forth to the main house, first looking for an empty bathroom and then being sent to the "office," then returning to inform it was locked, then returning again to yet another locked bathroom.  Luckily, I have a great bladder.  Maribel took matters into her own hands (kind of literally).  Eventually the party gets started.  The birthday girl, her sister, and her mom (Carla, Maribel's friend) are all dressed extravagantly as Alice.  Except for the black hair, they look just like her!  The food has been set up, so we go grab some.  It's a seafood buffet.  I load up mostly on fish nuggets (they were incredible!) and ceviche.  I get a few shrimp and some shrimp salad.  The fried fish was so much more amazing than I expected though.  Being this close to the ocean may not lend itself to beach trips all the time, but it certainly does ensure incredible seafood!

Unfortunately, the only drink choices were regular sodas.  I probably drank a liter of Coke because I was that thirsty (and it just seemed right with fried fish, right?).  Again, lucky for me I have a great bladder.

While we're eating, we have really good conversation.  I always wonder how these things will go.  Will I be bored?  Will I be responsible for the conversation?  Will I sound like an idiot?  Maribel was great at introducing me to people.  She would always explain why I was here and make me seem like a big deal.  Homero was interested in why I had come here, what living was like, how the money worked itself out, and what the Mexicans were doing in the US (and how those with them were boding).  The girls dragged me hither and yon to see the animals (it was like a petting zoo, yet this was always at the house, not rented for the party as well as the pool), check out the clown and games, and to get dessert.  I had a crepaleta, which is not a real word.  Crepes, are, well, crepes.  And paletas are suckers or popsicles, or anything on sticks.  So these were...?  Crepes on sticks.  They had nutella in the middle and sweetened condensed milk (called lehera, its brand name, here) drizzled over the top.  It wasn't as thin as a crepe, so I was mildly disappointed.  Had no trouble finishing it, though!

After that dessert, Maribel and Homero informed me that the seafood was just appetizers.  The carne asada was yet to come!  I was too full for that, so I just passed.  I tasted one bite of the mean, but knew I couldn't hold tortillas.  

Around 5:30, we decided it was time to get out of there (after four hours of bring there and we were the first to leave!).  Rebeca, the younger daughter, was filthy from running around and occasionally leaving her shoes behind.  The girls got cupcakes and their treat bags and we (carefully) loaded the car.  On the ride back to my house, the girls asked if I were going to stay in Mexico forever, and I said no.  I told them that I had to go back and that would be in July.  Maribel sat up straight with big eyes and asked what day.  Her birthday is July 4, and wanted to make sure I'd still be here for that.  It made her day that I would.

I'm so glad I ended up going.  I missed watching football with some friends (but there wasn't a single team out of the four that I could picture myself cheering for), but it was so much fun.  A really great day!

The traveling party.

Demien shows up at 10.  Just about on the dot.  We pile into his truck (the seats) and as he's walking around to his side, Mabel whispers, "We'll see what happens tonight."  We drove to a hamburger place and he ate alone.  Mabel got a jamaica drink, but that's it.  When his food came, there were french fries and onion rings.  She "helped" him with those and told him that he was the reason she had gained weight this winter.  I thought that was funny.

It's 10:30 as we're leaving the hamburger place and I'm glad since we'll still be some of the first to arrive.  We pass by the house and I feel guilty that we're coming empty handed, so I ask them if they want to go pick something up.

We head to the Oxxo where I get my coca light, but the drinks don't suit the there.  We go to a beer stand.  They're all over.  I'll take a picture at some point.  It's almost like a drive-in ticket booth or something.  I don't know why I think that.  Anyway the place was crazy because it was 10:40, and at 11, the prices go up on all alcohol.

We get to the party, say our hellos and have a seat.  The three people I know are Marco the host, Iván the birthday boy, and Quinantzin, a girl I met when I went out with Alma when Mabel was in Tucson Thanksgiving weekend.  Mabel, Demien and I kept to ourselves for the first 20 minutes probably.  After drinks started flowing, we intermeshed a little more.  

All of a sudden, around midnight, Mabel says, "Let's go!"  I'm confused, but clearly dependent.  We say our goodbyes and that we'll be back.  We're headed to a club.  Mabel was bored I think, and also tired of waiting for Alma.

The three of us take off to the other side of town, near where we live.  Demien's brother works at the club, so we get in free.  Mabel and I trod off to the bathroom, but I refuse.  I don't love club bathrooms in general.  This one was pretty bad.  She waits in line about 20 minutes.  We meet back up with Demien who has a bucket of beers.  I get a text from Alma saying she's arrived at the party and where am I?  I explain the situation to her but tell her we'll be coming back.  Approaching 2, when the club closes, I text Alma asking her if she's still there.  At this point, I've been the third wheel on the drinking bike as well as the dancing bike.  I'm ready to see Alma, or hit the bed.  Remember, that on Sunday I had to be up, pretty, and happy at 10:30 for mass with Maribel.  Alma says that one of the friends they were with wasn't feeling well, so they took her home and were on their way to their third party of the night.  Did I want to go?  Thanks but no thanks Alma.  The three of us went home.  It was not the night I had planned.  And it was not my favorite night while being in Culiacán.  But it's over.

Sleepy Saturday

Saturday was luckily such a lazy day.  I got up when Mabel and Cosette got home and prepared myself for the cleaning/laundry day ahead.  When by 1:30, we still hadn't left for Papá's, I realized my laundry would have to wait another week!

Later, Cosette left with her dad and Mabel went to pick up lunch with her godmother (see ¿Me explico? entry).  That night, we had been invited by several people to Marco's house for Iván's birthday party.  Alma told me it would start around 9 or 10.  I told Mabel 10 or 10:30 in hopes of arriving late enough.  But I also knew that if I told her 11 or after, she would say that was too late (I fall asleep once waiting for a party and that rules out the rest of them!).

I started the getting ready process early so I could stay awake (okay, so she has a point).  Around 8:30 she asks me if I still want to go.  I can't tell if I'm misinterpreting or what.  But she was all about going out and doing things in our email exchanges before I got here.  Now that I'm here, she's still all about it.  But it seems she's hesitant when it comes to my plans.  Like if she's the one who has the information or the friends (and she's often saying "I don't have any friends"), she's all for it.  But then if I'm the one receiving the invitation, she always confirms later, like I might have changed my mind.

I don't know.  Maybe it's nothing and I'm misreading the way they communicate.  Who knows.

So I say yes.  I still want to go.  I'm dying to see Alma since I haven't yet since returning from Christmas.  Alma is such a great girl and I couldn't be more thankful that I met her.  Well, that Shania put her in charge of me.  She's is lots of fun, very thoughtful, and always up for something!

Anyway, we're set to leave at 10.  Around 9:30, in comes Mabel to get the directions to Marco's house.  Then she hits me with it.  "I think Demien is going to come with us."

Let me explain for a minute.  Demien is Cosette's dad.  Over the course of my four months here, I have gotten bits and pieces of the story.  I feel like I have most of it now.  The gist of their divorce is that he is an umpire.  He gets hired to travel for three months or more at a time and was never home.  Mabel was taking classes to finish her degree, teaching two jobs, and taking care of Cosette basically by herself.  She gave him an ultimatum more or less a year and a half ago since she was basically a single mom as it was.  In a discussion we had at another point about second chances, she said in her book you only get one second chance.  I said that I agreed.  In thought.  But in reality I give all kinds of chances.  I've been burned many a time for that.  Oddly enough, while we were talking about second chances, I said to her, "If Demien wanted you back, you would give him another chance, even though you already gave him his second chance."  She said absolutely not unless he had changed jobs because in the end it would be the same: he would be gone all the time.

I'm slightly annoyed that she's telling me he's coming.  But I'm not mad about it.  It's hard to explain the dynamics of things, so just suffice it to say, I'd have preferred to go just the two of us, or by myself.  On the other hand, I was excited to get to meet him and see what he was like.  Up to this point, we had only passed each other in the house.

This entry is reaching its length limit.  I'll get to the nighttime events in the next.  To be continued...

Graduation Mass, Super Salad, Party, Party and More Party!

So, Friday we go to the mass.  I really enjoyed being in the geographic location.  The view of the city, while super smoggy, is really pretty.  (Strange that it's smoggy in pictures since I don't notice it in real life.)  Seeing the city from up so high is nice.  And the church itself is very interesting; it's shaped like a pyramid.  After the mass, we all congregated outside (we finally found Marisela and Papá).  Tía Laura (the buñuelos aunt) came up and hugged all over me.  She asked about Christmas, the buñuelos, my family, and the biscuit recipe.  When we were making buñuelos, she wanted to know how to make biscuits.  I told her I would get her the recipe, yet I didn't.  I'm right on that.

We took pictures of the fam.  With Carlos (boyfriend).  Without Carlos.  With Laura.  Without Laura.  

The party was scheduled for 9pm, so we had over an hour to kill.  

I had only had a peanut butter and honey sandwich (Lockeland gals- there's your peanut butter reference again) at 1:00, and that was before I ran.  I was starving.  There was a salad place right next to La Lomita, so I decided a salad would be something nice and light to tide me over until the meal was served at 10:30 or so.

Ha!

The salad I ordered was HUGE.  I ended up eating all of it, though when it came to the table I would've never imagined.  I was much hungrier than I knew!

From there, we returned home for a bit.  We killed about 20 minutes and then returned right up the street to the Salón de Fiestas (Party Hall).

We got there and entered a HUGE hall with 100 tables set for 10 people.  This graduating class had 80 students.  Each student could reserve however many seats they needed.  Marisela had two tables.  

I guess the average student reserved one table (if my math serves, no pun intended).

During the mass, they were all dressed in all white.  I would say they were in dental attire, but they weren't.  They were all in white suits.  For the party, they had all changed into prom dress-code.  I'm talking seriously dressed up.  And the girls all had to wear a shade of blue.  The hairdos would put Texas to shame.  

When Mexicans get done up, I mean, they get: Done. Up.

Mabel, Cosette and I took our seats at the table with Tía Laura, her daughter Cecy, and another one of Mabel's aunts and cousins.  

Papá and Marisela were also sitting there with Carlos.  We all just chit chatted for about an hour.  They came out for our drink orders.  They didn't have Diet Coke, so I was up a creek.  

Mabel got a bottle of Squirt for the table since she had brought a bottle of tequila.  It was a BYO event.

All of the servers were male, which I found strange.  Mabel said it's always that way.  

In restaurants, there are waitresses, but at catering events, the men are the wait staff and the women are hostesses.

By 10:30, they had brought out a tray of appetizers to each table.  Having eaten a gigantic salad, I wasn't interested in the hors d'eouvres ( how do you spell that?!).  A bit later, they brought out our main plates.  It was salmon, a baked potato (which Mabel said I just had to try.  I burst her bubble a bit by telling her we had those.  They seem very American to me, no?), cheese rice, a roll and it seems like some other carb.  The salmon was drenched in a sauce.  I love salmon so I wanted to taste it.  It was yummy.  I ate about half of the salmon and rice and then called it a night on food.  So I thought.

At 11, they began introducing all 80 graduates.  Eleven o'clock was our original planned departure time.  Earlier in the week, Iván, one of Alma's friends that I met right before Christmas, had texted me telling me he was having a birthday dinner on Friday.  Mabel and I decided we'd pull an Alma and show up at the end.  Supposedly the dinner started at 9.  So that means 10.  We thought we'd leave graduation at 11 and hit the second half.  When the clock struck 11:30, I decided to start sending texts to see if it was even worth going to the dinner.  After several rounds of texts, we found out that Alma had left, and that they were finished eating, but that the party was still going on; they hadn't asked for the check yet.

Mabel and I went back and forth about what the texts meant (I was afraid I was mistranslating.  Unfortunately, she was over-served and misinterpreted something at first.  We weren't going to go.) and I got a call to clear things up, but couldn't hear it.  We eventually figured out the mistake (Mabel had thought the text said the opposite of what it said.) and headed to the other side of town to T.G.I.Friday's.  Of course, we get there and the check is being brought.  Awesome.  I reintroduce Mabel to Iván (she met him on another over-served night) and she and I split their last piece of birthday cake.  We spend about 30 minutes there and then head back to the graduation party until it ends at 2.

I had no plans for Saturday daytime.  Mabel, on the other hand, had to be at an English teachers' training at 9.  I slept until she got home a little after 11 (she left early to pick Cosette up from Papá's).  I still was tired.  Something about changing from early to bed in the week to late to bed on the weekend is killer for my body, even when I still get 8 hours of sleep!  I was thankful to have an empty agenda.