Just another day in paradise

So it was a school day like any other last Tuesday (Ashley was here for a 5 day visit, so I’m a wee bit behind in my blogging). I got to school and headed to my 8 am (BLEH) first grade class. It wasn’t terrible, but my right leg started bugging me a bit. This would be a good time to let the cat out of the bag. Since there are a few stories over the course of the next few days that are dependent on your knowing some facts, I’ll just go ahead and spill it.
I burned my right calf. On a motorcycle. Wearing shorts.
Yep, I’m the idiot gringa. Although, you’ll notice later that I’m not as much of an idiot as it might seem. Or else idiocy is popular in Mexico.
So the burn looked pretty much AWFUL. But it didn’t feel bad. As a matter of fact, the day it happened and the following day, I was fast and often with the Neosporin, and I think I saved myself a terrible injury.Tuesday, though, in hopes of keeping the wound clean from Mexican dirt as well as out of sight of, well, everyone, I caked it in Neosporin and put on my jeans. Off to school I went. I guess the irritation of almost constant contact with my jeans was more than I could handle. Mind you, I was tired and I had taught my very least favorite group of kiddos (oops, I think that’s unprofessional to admit), but my leg was really bugging. I went to the computer room between classes for a break (a minute or two), and Sandra was in there with Guille (6th grade). I asked them where a medical clinic was so I could stop on my way home. I had been in denial for the past two days about it and just thought I had miraculously cured myself with Neosporin. (Coming from the girl who gets Strep Throat annually, yet still refuses to go to the doctor, this is no surprise since my medical choices were all, well, Mexican. Call me a spade, but I was just a bit uneasy about the thought.) Sandra and Guille wanted to see the wound to help assess where I should go. I lifted my pant leg and there was a collective gasp. Sandra took me by the hand, drug me to the office where 1st grade registration was going on in a room the size of a decent walk in closet. She poked her head into the principal’s door and said that she would be taking me with her to the Red Cross and would be back shortly.
Love that woman.
Off we went.
We arrived at the Red Cross and Sandra did all the talking at the payment window. I paid my 30 pesos (about 2 bucks) and they gave me a cardboard number to wait my turn. Nice. They called my number (siete) and Sandra started walking me to the curación room (bandaging). The nurse stopped her. She explained that I was on an exchange and had no one, but Nurse No Way wouldn’t let her pass. It’s cool. I’m a big girl. I mean, I hate blood, needless, pain, and doctors’ offices, but I’m a big girl.
I went in, my nurse (There were two because it was one medium sized room for anyone who needed bandaging; forget privacy!) asked me to lie down face down, and she went to work cleaning and wrapping. She asked me when it had happened and said, “¿Moto, no?” She was the first of many to assume it was a moto accident.
She cleaned it, told me it was a superficial wound and had only tiny blisters (new word of the week: ampoyas), which she popped quickly, easily and painlessly with (I’m guessing since it took my by surprise) a sterilized needle. The bubbles were few and far between, and really small. Again, I was patting myself on the back for my quick first aid care. She made it seem like no big deal. I had a thousand questions. How to care for it, how long to wear a bandage around it, what to clean it with, etc.
When I walked out, Sandra asked a few questions and off we went. We stopped by her house to pick up some gauze (her sister is a nurse, so she had plenty) and pain reliever. And back to school we went.
At this point, I had missed my precious group of first graders and half of second grade. By the time you miss half of a class, it almost isn’t worth it. So I got myself ready for my post-recreo classes.
In both of my afternoon classes (I call it afternoon because it’s after recess, but it’s the 11-12:20 block), the kids asked me what was wrong with my leg (I still had my pant leg pulled up, exposing my bandage). When I would answer that I had burned myself, immediately they would say, “on a moto?” Then they would all have a story to share about their cousin’s uncle’s dog that burned his leg on a motorcycle. I felt a little better about my bout with moronia, but still was embarrassed every time I had to answer the dreaded question.
Wednesday was much the same, only I was rockin’ a skirt, so it was seriously evident that I had a wound. The bandage I had was a disposable one, so it was terrible quality. It was held up by tape and since it had a tendency to fall, I wanted to have easy access to it.

14.5

Yep.  That's the exchange rate today.  I saw on the news yesterday that it was the worst rate Mexico has ever seen, so I got my debit card ready to withdraw today.  It's funny how excited I was in the fall at 10.79 and then the 11s seemed so great.  Wow.  I'm rockin'.

Happy Birthday, Cosette!

Oh, Monday morning came way too soon. Thankfully, after three late nights in a row (or should I say three early mornings), we had a holiday on Monday. Monday is a day that the person who gets a baby in their cake (remember the white plastic baby that I didn’t get in the Rosca de Reyes on January 7th [the holiday is the 6th, but they waited for me to get here at school]) is supposed to supply tamales for the celebration. This is actually just a suggestion and I don’t think anyone really provides them, but tamales are certainly eaten in a big way that day. All businesses are closed, but tamal shops stay open. It’s probably their black Friday. I’m totally cool with that. I could eat tamales all day every day I think.
Monday was Cosette’s birthday. Mabel had wanted to have the party earlier in the weekend, but Cosette pitched a fit when making the invitations because her birthday was, in fact, on the 2nd. How dare her mother suggest that she have her birthday party on any other day!
I woke up at 8:45. I can’t get past that; no matter how tired I am, I’m always up shortly after the sun. Of course, it didn’t help that Mabel had the music pumping and preparations going on from 9:00 on. This prevented me from going back to sleep. To her credit, she didn’t know I was back; I had gone from Mazatlán to Iván’s and didn’t get home until 4 am. She was not awake, so she didn’t know I had gotten home. The music boomed, and I chatted and stayed in pjs. I would’ve loved to have gone back to sleep and napped a bit before the actual birthday party at 1, but that just seemed impossible. Around 1, I decided to make my presence known. I knew the party wouldn’t actually start at one, but I figured I should offer some help with the set up.
I got dressed, put on a hint of makeup (though I looked like I’d been through the ringer), and headed downstairs. Mabel was walking out the door and turned around with a face of confusion when she heard me. “When did you get back?” My answer was last night, but the word they use here for last night is the same as yesterday, so she responded, “I never saw you.” I then explained that it was after she was asleep.
I helped her take the drinks outside and carry some of the food. Demien was hanging the piñata and Cosette was nowhere to be found. Since there was no one there yet and nothing to do, I went back to my room. At 2 something, Mabel came in and yelled up for me to come get some food. I did. I sat with Marisela, Papá, Tía (maybe Cyntia?!), and Demien. Mabel was up and about greeting the guests. I was stoked to have my tamal de elote (my favorite with corn) and my tamal de Puerco (the pork kind, not my favorite, but good nonetheless). I was stuffed after two. I hung out and chatted with Marisela who decided to go get the face paint she had at home. Since it was a holiday, no one was available for hire for the entertainment. The balloon arch and decorations were also missing due to a closed store. This was a minimalist party, but no one noticed or cared. After Mari left, her boyfriend Carlos, his mom, and his little sister Alesandra (who was entertained by me at his birthday party last weekend) showed up. Elvia and Oscar (godmother and boyfriend) made an appearance with her parents as well. Elvia doesn’t drink beer, either, so she made lots of jokes about how we would drink our beer together. I was afraid at first that she was cold, but I think the day I met her she had a lot on her mind. She’s really fun. Mabel and Cosette cut the birthday cake and served it. They ran out of plates so re-used some when people finished. That made me a little nauseous, but that’s a very Mexican solution. Do not leave the party. Make due and stay with your peeps. The kids went to hit the piñata and I went inside to go to the bathroom. It was after 4. While I was inside, I realized just how tired I was and went to lie down for a bit. A bit turned into 3 hours! It was a great nap. I got up, had a bite to eat, and went back to bed. I did, after all, have to work the following day!

Superbowl Fiesta- A (Really) Long Entry for a (Really) Long Day!

Iván and I got to his house and the party had started. I was pretty surprised. There were about 10-15 people already there. Apparently I was supposed to already know some of them. I knew none of them. The majority of them had been at Iván’s birthday dinner at T.G.I.Friday’s (that we showed up to just in time to leave) as well as the party at his house (that we left early to go to a club). At neither place was I introduced to these people, so even had I recognized their faces, I wouldn’t have known their names.
The main characters for this entry are:
Iván- party host, friend of Alma, met him at another birtday party in December, complimented my Spanish
Jared- apparently I had seen him at both parties but had no recollection, very tall guy, pretty heavy set, one of two others cheering for the Cardinals, speaks great English and started the program Inglés en Primaria (English in Elementary).
Marco- teacher in Inglés en Primaria, danced line dances at teacher Posada, speaks great English, met him at same birthday party that I met Iván, also complemented my Spanish, but noted my accent.
Topete- good friend of Alma’s (aren’t they all?), reminds me of Goolsby, first met him in October at Liliana’s birthday party at a bar.
Liliana- good friend of Alma, teaches kindergarten with Rocio (birthday party last weekend with the pool table), nice enough, but never went out of her way to be nice to me personally (never more conversation than a greeting).

Back to the story…
So I walk in not knowing too many people. There are many more people throughout the night, but the above people are the ones who play a part in the story. I get introduced to anyone I don’t know (and thankfully even the people I was apparently supposed to know).
In the den, there is a wrap-around couch facing the tv as well as about 6 plastic patio chairs. These chairs are a staple in Mexican houses. At this time, there are about 6 people in the room: Marco and his girlfriend, Jared and Pris (who I think at the time is his girlfriend, but isn’t) and two guys whose names I can’t remember. One of them is a roommate. There are another handful of people out on the patio working the grill. I didn’t realize it at the time, but there was another small tv set up out there. Jared asks for a show of hands of Cardinal fans. The guy whose name I didn’t know (not the roommate), Jared and I were the lone souls. In a room of 6, that’s not bad, but throughout the evening, Steelers numbers increased, and Cardinals numbers stayed the same.
Liliana and her boyfriend (name?) came in after the first quarter had started. When she saw me, she gave me a warmer smile than she has ever given before. She actually looked excited to see me. However, she ended up sitting other people on the couch and looking at me (like a science project) but not speaking to me. More of the same. I have a major issue with that here. I have INCREDIBLE girl friends at home. I would venture to say I have the best friends a girl could have. I try really hard to be a good friend, so my friends are really good to me, too. I choose well. Here, I have made good friends with Alma, but none of the other girls. (After this weekend in Mazatlán with the 3 amigas, I have changed my stance on this.) It is bothersome, but poco a poco that’s changing.
Jared and I were high five buddies throughout the night. Obviously we were pretty mellow for the whole game. However, the first great play the Cardinals had (who knows what it was, but I think it was in the second quarter), Jared had been outside fixing his plate or visiting with others and he came running in, gave me the hardest loudest high five you’ve ever seen or heard and did a little dance. Hilarious. Good thing I’m tough, because everyone was worried I was hurt; it was that hard.
Halftime was a little slow, especially considering my man Bruce didn’t even play Born in the USA. (Oh, I forgot to include the fact that we were watching ESPN Vivo, meaning the commentators were Mexican. So were the commercials. Boo. But I heard the commercials were nothing to write home about, and I geekily enjoyed improving my Spanish.) After the halftime show, all the Steelers fans (numbering in the 30s at this point) relished every replay in the recap. Of course it all favored their team. I was less than thrilled.
The second half of the game was the best part. I mean, it obviously would’ve been better if we’d won, but whatever. I’m used to my teams losing. The action of the second half, though at least made it interesting. I think in the third quarter was when Arizona did something incredible. So incredible, of course, that I’ve forgotten it. But I think it might’ve been an interception that turned into a touchdown? Or was it just a really good pass to touch down? Either way, it came out of nowhere and I started running to the door to go high five Jared (he was in and out getting beer, cooking, etc). About the time I near the doorway, he comes running in. He’s screaming with his hands up. I go to high five him and he picks me up and spins me around about 5 times. It was absolutely hysterical. He then set me down and did a booty dance, took off his jersey to reveal his superman shirt underneath, and twirled his jersey over his head. We were all cracking up. My cheeks were beginning to hurt it was that funny!
The game ended, and unfortunately my team lost. I was very mellow for the next little bit. All the outside people ended up coming in to join the group and the tv went off and the stereo came on. Topete proved to be a Goolsby clone by making himself DJ. He put in a mix CD of music that could’ve easily come off my “recently played” list on my iPod; Justin Timberlake, Kanye West and Rihanna are the only artists I can remember off the top of my head. We all were just sitting around calmly jamming in our seats, when CoA (Center of Attention) Jared decides it’s dance time. He dances alone for a song or two. He’s pretty funny dancing. Mexican dancing and US dancing are just different (like everything else). So seeing them try to booty dance is pretty much hilarious.
I was watching, as was everyone else, but my mind was racing. I was preparing my move with my football buddy Jared. During a Justin Timerlake song, I get up while he’s not looking and break it down beside him. If you’ve ever watched Hitch with me, you know the part where Alexa and Albert are dancing and he breaks it down. It’s hilarious mostly because Alexa doesn’t realize it. Well, Jared realized it, so that was different, but it was SO FUNNY.
(I’m not trying to toot my own horn here. I’m just telling the story like it was to those that want to hear it. If it sounds braggy, sorry you had to read it.)
I will admit that I am not always hilarious. I’m not even always funny. But this time, I was freakin’ hysterical. My humor is usually on the side. I prefer to sit and make dry comments that only the people near me hear and cause them to chuckle. I typically sidestep the spotlight. Because of this, when I do step into the spotlight, I make it worth my while. The importance of this move was that a, it made everyone laugh and see my crazy side, but b, that Liliana found it hilarious enough that she came over and started talking to me.
After the dance party (or should I say solo and duo), we started playing darts. The darts set was a magnetic one. I’m terrible at darts. I’m not surprised, but it was confirmed this summer when I was out with the teachers. I’m terrible.
I sat quietly to the side as four or five people took their turns. Iván then offered me my turn. I turned it down for the moment. Others went. Some were really good; some were really terrible. I took a turn and wasn’t terrible, but I wasn’t good. I think of the 6 darts, three or four made it to the board. There were others who threw that didn’t get any on there, so I didn’t feel awful.
Iván took his turn after everyone had had at least one shot and it was evident that the dartboard belonged to him. At that point, he was banned from playing.
I got up for my second turn and as I was about to make my first shot, someone turned the lights out. I don’t think it was intentional. I threw a bull’s eye! What about that?! I just knew I had good form somewhere inside of me. So for the next five darts, I covered my eyes with my left hand and threw with my right. That got even more laughs, but I actually wasn’t doing it to be funny. I was hoping to get it on the board. I didn’t get any more bull’s eyes, but I did get four of the five on the board.
Later, the darts game turned into funny competitions: left handed, under the leg, backwards, from the kitchen, eyes closed. You can guess which one I won. By the end of the night, though, I had practiced enough to have decent form with my eyes open. I wasn’t near the bull’s eye, but I was on the board every time.
After the darts game, the music changed. The crowd began to change, too. Several people left. It was 10 by now. The music was all Mexican or Latino. I was fighting sleep anyway (after two late nights with little sleep), so the music did not help. I was yawning uncontrollably. Alma, who had said she would be there around 7 after eating in Altata, was still not there. I sent her a text. She was going to take me home. She made it seem like she was still coming, but upon follow up, she was still in Altata. I told Iván, and he was like, “No way is she coming.” I don’t know if Alma is just Mexican (they have a tendency to tell you what you want to her even if they know the truth is the contrary), or if she has grand plans that get changed due to other circumstances. Either way, I found it pretty funny that Iván was not the least bit surprised.
At this point, there was a crowd outside (probably about six people) and a crowd inside: Liliana and her boyfriend, Topete and Iván. Topete and Liliana’s boyfriend apparently were dancers in some sort of group in high school. So for each song, they seemed to have a choreographed dance. Liliana was not in the group, but had been to all the shows, so she knew some of the moves.
Later, the music turned to salsa-able music. I danced one song. I was thankful for my lessons in Guatemala in the summer of 07. Diego had taught me well. We had one-hour lessons five days a week for two weeks. I learned quite a bit. Most of what he taught me was completely choreographed. He would tell me the steps, we would practice them, and then he would do the boy part while I did the girl part. We didn’t do much freestyle where the girl just keeps the beat with her feet and lets the guy basically twirl her around wherever. When Alma (sister) was in town and we went to the Juan Show, there was a waiter that came to dance with her when she was trying to teach Carlos. Watching Alma (a dancer by profession) dance with a guy who knew what he was doing was pretty cool. All in heels no less.
I was not great because I like to know what I’m doing before I do it, but I was better than your average gringa, if I do say so myself. There I go tootin’ that horn again.
Around 1, we retired from darts and dancing and a new crowd of three girls showed up. I met them, but again, they weren’t interested in anything I had to say. They started the whole singing and dancing act again. Jared helped. Again, really funny. At this point, Iván got a text from Mayra who had been with Alma saying that she was back at home and hoped we had all had fun. We decided there was no hope for Alma, so Iván said he’d take me whenever I was ready.
Well, the three girls suddenly got an interest in me. They started asking questions about the US and why I “didn’t drink.” I explained that I didn’t like beer and they were like, “Honey, nobody likes beer, but that’s what there is.” We talked about the differences in everything. They told me Spanish was the hardest language to learn, which all Mexicans say. They have a partial point because of conjugations (every subject pronoun [I, you, he, she, it, we, they, y’all] has a different verb conjugation whereas in English there are typically just two conjugations [I run, You run, We run, They run, Y’all run, He/She/It runs]), but it’s not hard. But I’m not about to say it’s easy and then make a fool of myself being unable to talk. There was a guy listening in and asking some questions. He was the third Cardinals fan, but I never got his name. We had also had a dart competition (I think he probably beat me), too, but I never caught his name. When you meet 25 people at a time, it’s hard to keep them all straight.
(I’m realizing I pretty much never included Marco in the story. Just suffice it to say that I was glad he was there because I know him well enough to sit and chat for awhile. His girlfriend was really nice, and he gave me a hard time about the game, which is always fun.)
So, back to me. Ha! I was talking to these three girls and the guy and he ends up asking where I’m from. He apparently missed the first bit of the US geography lesson with the girls. Then he said- brace yourselves. Make sure you’re seated. Then he said, “but you’re from here, right?” I wanted to fall in the floor and bow at his feet. I said, no and explained the whole exchange thing again (he must’ve been outside when I began this with the girls). He said my Spanish was really, really good and that he thought I was from here. He had been listening to me all night and never knew. WOW! I told him he would be able to tell now that he knew, but he said I definitely didn’t sound like a gringa. Not sounding like a gringa is not the highest compliment because the definition of sounding like a gringo is basically not rolling your r’s. Well, I should hope I’m beyond that! But then he went on to say that my accent was excellent and that it sounded much more Spanish than English. Great! Thank you Sir With No Name!
Around 2:30 (in the middle of this conversation), I’m noticing that Iván has disappeared. I know he can’t be gone for good because it’s his house and he has work the next day (unlike teachers who had Monday off). I continue my conversation until 3, when Topete comes in to give us all our goodbye kisses (and the guys their goodbye handshakes with back-patting hugs). He pulls me from the group and asks me if I’m ready to go home. I said sure. I wasn’t tired anymore due to the active conversation, dancing/singing, and darts of the past two hours, but I figured if he was offering, I should take him up on it. He asked me how I had planned on getting home and I said that Iván was going to take me. He asked me where Iván was and I said I had no idea. I went back to Iván’s bedroom to get my purse and such and he was asleep on top of the bed. I asked him what was up, waking him, and told him Topete was taking me. I have arrived in the social aspect of Mexico. I made it past 3 am three nights in a row, and I out-stayed-awake the host at one of those! I will admit that this is my first Superbowl party that has gone much past ten, no less 3 am. But I’m actually finally getting used to the staying up. Luckily, I had Monday off to try to sleep late or nap if that didn’t work out.
It turns out Topete lives only about 5 blocks from me. I was turned around, so we ended up going the wrong way from where his house was, but we got there. He spoke very slow (which made it funny, though I tried very hard not to laugh) English the whole way. When we got to my house, he walked me to the door. This is also very Mexican. When the girls took me to the bus station in Mazatlán, they parked and came in with me. There’s no dropping at the curb. In DF, when Shania’s cousin (Shory) took me to the airport after the weekend in Tepoztlán, he parked, walked in with me, checked in with me, and walked me to the security checkpoint. It was funny, though, that Topete was doing it, because the distance from the sidewalk to my door is about seven steps.
By the time I got home (I think he drove 20 miles per hour the whole way-it took over 30 minutes) and ready for bed, it was 4 am.
Oh, Mexico.

Bus ride

The bus ride from Mazatlán to Culiacán is a little over two hours. I had planned on sleeping the whole way. On some bus rides, it’s dangerous to do that because you can miss your stop. This bus ended in Culiacán, so there was no danger of that. The problem, however, was that I had shorts on and a t shirt and it was freezing. The other problem was that they were playing a movie that is not in my favorite genre, but that I watched last year on my ski trip and absolutely loved. Shooter with Mark Wahlburg. It’s a really good movie! And totally not my style. I got caught up watching it.
Halfway home, I got a text from Alma saying that she was going to Altata to eat, did I want to go? Was I back yet? They could pick me up at home or the bus station. She had told me on Saturday that she wasn’t going to the Superbowl party and I can’t remember if I had responded. So when I got this, I was in a tough spot. I love hanging with Alma and hadn’t seen her this week, but I had promised to go to the Superbowl party and had left early from Mazatlán for that reason. What to do.
I texted Alma back telling her my dilemma. Add to that I still wasn’t sure how I was going to get to the party. Alma is always my ride. Cosette’s birthday party would be Monday, so I knew Mabel would be busy, not to mention she didn’t love the Titans game, so I didn’t figure she’d like a game where even I didn’t have a team. My plan now was to get to bus station, take a city bus home, see if Mabel would drop me off, or call Iván to see if anyone else coming to the party lived near me.
Alma and I went back and forth with lots of options. In the end, she told me Iván would pick me up at the bus station. His house was about 5 minutes away. My house, in comparison, is more like 15-20 minutes away.
I was set to arrive in Culiacán at a little after 3. Kickoff was at 4:30 and the party was supposedly starting at 3:30. Here I was arriving at a party before it was even supposed to begin. Again I got all worked up. The only person that I knew for sure that I would know there was Iván, and he was the host, so he’d be busy. I was pretty sure Topete would be there. He’s the guy that reminds me of Goolsby. Unfortunately not enough that we’re as close as Goolsby and I are, so I wasn’t sure he would be of any help. I had hopes of Marco(an English teacher)’s being there, but who knew.

Sunday

I didn’t want to be the high maintenance gringa (I try never to play this role, even at home), so I listened attentively while trying to sleep starting around 9am. At 10 I heard enough rustling around that I decided to get up. Tania was still asleep, but I was awake enough to stay up. We started breakfast (omelets with chorizo-delish). We woke Tania up and made the plan for the day. We would all get showers. The original plan had been to go to the beach. Then it changed to the aquarium. The final decision was Rock Island and then the beach. Since I had my superbowl party, I would be heading back by bus between 1 and 2. I wasn’t sure when the buses ran, but I thought they were every hour. After heating the water, and taking turns for showers, we weren’t all ready until after 12. We discussed plans for later in the week: movies on Wednesday, the circus at some point, maybe something on the weekend after Ashley got here. I was excited to be making plans with my new friends.
At about 12:30, we loaded the car with my luggage and them with their beach stuff. They took me to the bus station and I got there just in time to buy a 1:00 ticket and run to the bus.

Mexicanisms

Part of the reason I teach at the elementary level in Nashville is to break the prejudice toward the language that inevitably comes in high school. Student entering a high school Spanish class have already decided that they hate their teacher and the class. They walk in with a terrible attitude and that is the biggest challenge for the teachers to overcome. In my humble opinion. Teaching at the elementary level, where things can be fun and games, helps prevent that prejudice from ever happening. The students leave elementary school with a good taste in their mouth and a love for the language that can actually overcome even a bad teacher!
The other reason I love teaching at this level is that there isn’t a preconceived notion about Mexicans or other Latinos. The students are typically a blank slate in that category. There’s some cheesy joke about basketball and the punch line (because I can’t remember the joke) is cuatro cinco, making a joke that most Spanish words you just add –o to the end. Sink-o for the basketball humor. I don’t find the joke in bad taste. It’s one that makes me smirk instead of laugh, but I do think it’s relatively funny. My kids wouldn’t get that joke at all. They’re not mature enough in their outside culture to get that Spanish sometimes follow that pattern. Also, Spanish is just a part of their academic lives, so they don’t find it hard, therefore looking for the easy translation of just adding an o. The reason I go into all this is that on our road trip, the English teachers (after explaining a flyer to me that in effect would translate “How do you say red in Spanish? Red-o.” that was promoting a language center) were talking about how their students remove the o from the end of words to make an English word!
For example:
shoe zapato translation- zapat.
ball pelota translation- pelot.
I found it pretty hilarious that the same joke translates, pardon the pun.

Going out

Imelda and I

Cristina and Tania on the bar

We got back to the house, and this would be where I see the stark differences between Mexican welcoming and US welcoming. If I knew three girls would be coming home with me I would (Or I would expect Mom to if we were going to Glasgow) make sure things were clean: vacuum, mop, dust, etc. I would have fresh sheets on the bed and make sure the house felt presentable to my definition of the word. The house we were in had a full bed and a single bed. Neither had sheets. The girls had all brought blankets, so we would have something to wrap up in (which seems typical- we did that in Cosalá). The bathroom had cleaning supplies all over, so it was crowded, and it didn’t seem super clean. (Cultural note: all Mexicans, even in their own homes, wear shower shoes.)
We sat around in the two rocking chairs and patio chairs for an hour or so before deciding to get ready to go out. We ate some quesadillas, as if we needed any food, and took turns taking showers. Thankfully there was hot water. Unfortunately, it came from a bucket of boiling water mixed with tap water. That was interesting!
I had planned on being able to not shower the whole time I was there, but I brought products anyway. After a day of windows down and walking on the beach, I needed a shower. We all took turns with plans of being at a place called “Oysters” before 11 because it was free for women before then. At 10:40, we were leaving the house, and based on our location, I knew we wouldn’t make it. I had actually been to Oysters with Mabel and Alma (the sister) when I went with the fam back in October, but we had gone for drinks and to watch the sunset in our bathing suit, not to dance.
We arrived promptly at 11:15, so we paid our 50 pesos to enter and found a place to dance. The music was awful. None of us were having fun. No one was hitting on us.
After an hour of waiting for the next song to be great, we headed up to the main strip (a 10 minute walk) where there are something like 10 clubs all in one building right on the beach. As we were walking there, I had a foul attitude, hoping at any minute they would decide they wanted to go home instead. I had been yawning during the terrible music at Oysters and didn’t think another club would do the trick.
We got our tickets for Bora Bora (they paid for mine) and went in. It was a bigger place with a bigger crowd. Our entry fee came with a free beer, so the waiter brought us all Modelo Lights. Yuck, yuck, yuck. I had to try, just to see. Nope. Even the Mexican girls, who are weaned on beer, were gagging at this stuff!
We were immediately hit on, and I realized that was not what we were missing from Oysters. These guys would not leave us alone. We took our turns two by two going to the bathroom and they still didn’t take the hint. Two of them went away for a bit but came back. Finally, we just walked off to another part of the place. It took us awhile, but we found a place where we were in the middle of it, yet had our own space. The music was great, we were having fun, and suddenly I wasn’t tired anymore. That’s a good thing because we didn’t leave until 3:15.
We got home, faces washed, and pjs on. Bedtime: 4am.
Imelda and I shared the twin bed. Wow. I didn’t move an inch because there wasn’t an inch to move. I do think I knocked her in the face once with my arm. Oops! Luckily I was so tired from two 3-4am nights that I didn’t notice that I had no space.
This stay, in a house, was definitely a different feel than going to a hotel. Both have their advantages and both have their disadvantages. The cheap person in me enjoyed the free place to stay and free lunch and dinner (Cristina’s mom had sent the tortillas and cheese with us for dinner). The inconvenience to the beach and other things made staying in a house a little more difficult (not to mention the size of the bed!), but it was a very fun experience.

Take me to Mazatlán

I don’t remember the exact hour we got in on Friday night, but it was not early. I remember getting home and wishing we were leaving later than 9am (and that I was meeting my new friend downtown later than 8:20!). I went ahead and blogged, though, because I knew there would be plenty more to remember after the weekend.
I was up at 7 with 4 or less hours of sleep. I probably sholud’ve sent a disclaimer to these new friends explaining what happens to me when I don’t sleep. However, being that they were new friends, I was on my best behavior: no car sleeping, attentive listening, and no sarcasm (which is easy in Spanish).
Because I didn’t want to keep my new friend (whose name at this time I still couldn’t remember) waiting, I made sure to board the bus before 8 in order to be downtown before 8:20. I hit my mark or else went a little overboard. I arrived at my stop at 7:55! I decided to get some bread. That is my new vice here. Their bread stores/bakeries just suck me right in. I got two empanadas: one piña and one guayaba with a corn based breading. It did not take me long to put them away. I walked to Woolworth, our designated meeting spot, and had a seat. I was a bit nervous waiting since I didn’t really know who this was (not nervous like didn’t trust her, but nervous like how was I gong to know which person she was?!). I kept my eye out for all cars pulling up to Woolworth and then realized no need to start watching until 8:20 if that early.  Around 8:25, up walked this girl and held eye contact longer than anyone else had that morning and I could see she was ready to greet me. Must be her. She was in a halter top and sweater, jeans and a beach hat. I had contemplated wearing shorts and a t-shirt thinking the car would not have air conditioning, but it was actually too chilly to do that so I changed into jeans. I’m glad I did because I ended up needing jeans later.
We had to get on another bus and she paid my fare. Mexicans are a very giving culture. I’ve heard this from the US, but being here this year has really made me see it. I think in the US, we go out of our way to make sure things look good (the house is clean, we have enough food, etc.). Here, the appearance is less important, but they are continually giving whatever they have. I often don’t pay for things. After offering to pay back, they won’t let me. It’s just a part of their culture.
We rode my yoga bus past my yoga place and around some hills and through some neighborhoods I didn’t even know existed! This is “the other side” of Culiacán. That holds no extra meaning, just that I had never been to that side before.
We got off the bus at La Normal, a teacher training school. I think it’s training for all kinds of teachers, but the ones I would be traveling with were all three English teachers (We all apparently stick together). Shortly after we got there, Tania called. She was our driver for the day. We put our stuff (I got everything in one backpack which seems easy for one night, but when considering beach wear, pjs [and pillows], going out clothes, shower stuff, and bus ride home, I was swelling with pride at my minimalism) in the trunk and went to the English office to print something off for Imelda (That’s her name! I heard Tania say it and entered it into my memory). In the office, while Imelda was doing her thing, Tania and I talked about why I was here. The typical first conversation I have. She was very complimentary of my Spanish, which was a nice boost. With a small audience, I’m much better.
Not much later, in walked Cristina. She was laughing already and didn’t introduce herself and that led to jokes from the other girls. She’s a giddy, hilarious, crazy girl (and 22), so I could tell it was either going to be super fun, or I was going to want to kill her. I was very comfortable fast with these girls. I’m SO GLAD I went.
We all packed up into the car and got on our way. Cristina had made burritos de marlín and we munched on those (to get the experience- never mind I had already had two empanadas!). They were the joke of the car ride because the marlin had been cooked too much so they were crunchy. Tania said she couldn’t drive and eat them at the same time because they were breaking her teeth. She also said that she had thought it was machaca instead of marlin because machaca is this dried out, but delicious, meaty stuff.
I wasn’t sure where we were as we were heading out of town. Turns out there’s a reason. We were going on the libre, which is the road that takes longer, but is free. In bus it takes a little over 2 hours, including stops for drop offs along the way. It took us a little over 3.5! It actually was fine because it was so much fun! They told jokes and we sang. We kept eating. It was your typical road trip ride.
When we got to the city of Mazatlán, we went straight to Cristina’s house. The house is where her brother lives during the week to go to school. Their parents live in a town outside the city about 45 minutes. We dropped off our stuff, met the brother, waited on some man to bring us towels, went to pay the brother’s cell phone bill, and headed out to the folks’ house for lunch. Cristina had asked us about an hour into the trip if we wanted fried shrimp for lunch. Bring it on.
We walked into the house and it was a typical Mexican house that has the family store in front. No one I know in Mexico has one of these, but all the stores you go into for a candy bar or household supplies (not Oxxo) are attached to houses. There for a while I was buying my coca lights from a parent of a first grader across the street from my school. I guess I do know someone with a store.  Anyway, we were served our fried shrimp, salad, beans and tortillas (as if I needed more) at a small table with a beautiful tablecloth. I had to have a picture (Cristina, Me, Imelda, Tania). Our drinks were courtesy of the family store. For dessert, we were served canned peaches and the girls went crazy like it was their favorite dessert. I of course was thinking, “Where’s the chocolate?” but I shut up and ate my peaches like a good girl.
We laughed a lot at the table. We talked about a lot of stuff. Tania is definitely the jokester/sarcastic soul. Cristina is just goofy. Imelda is the sweet little Beth Swang type. I appreciated their humor much more than I have appreciated any humor yet.
After our lunch (it was after 4), we decided to head to the beach. We trekked back to Mazatlán proper and parked it on the main drag. We walked close to a mile I would guess on the sand. This sand is funny. It’s soft like in Destin (which I prefer to rocky Atlantic coast sand), but your feet don’t get sandy, even after getting wet. It was a strange sensation. Being one who likes to be at the beach but not be sandy, this was perfect!
We enjoyed the sunset and decided to head back to the house to rest. Since this entry is August-style-long, I’ll change to another entry.

La Chuparrosa (Humingbird- a new word for me!)

The Band.  Diana is clearly the girl.

No, I was not cold.  Yes, they truly were.

It was probably 70 degrees.

Oscar, Elvia, Me, Mabel, Marisol, Edgar

The whole group.

Mabel and I left the house later than expected to head to the restaurant. As you know, when in Mexico, I like to be fashionably late. At a restaurant, I don’t mind so much being on time (but never early here- yikes!) because there’s something to occupy my mind- and mouth.
We were pulling into the very hidden restaurant (It was on the outskirts of town back hidden away. I felt like it would’ve been in the Ya-Ya movie-tucked away in some Louisiana swamp.), we crossed a railroad track. Mabel told me to lift my feet and make a wish, that my wish was sure to come true. She said it always happens. I just laughed. She felt the need to defend herself with the wish comment since she thought I was laughing at that. I was laughing more at the fact that she was a grown-up “teaching” a grown-up about a kid car game. I explained to her that we do that in the States, but more around the age of when you start driving. She adamantly disagreed. Not with the proper age to do it, but with the fact that we actually do in the US. “You don’t do this there.” Right, just like we don’t know the electric slide.
When we arrive, Diana and her band are already playing, and we’re asked if we have reservations. Uh oh!
We didn’t, but we were lucky enough to find one last table behind the band. We sat and ordered (refer to “Red, Red Wine” entry) and enjoyed the music. They cover a lot of English songs. They played some Beatles stuff, the Doors, Guns and Roses (or Sheryl Crow if you prefer her rendition), Madonna and many others. After about 20 minutes at that table (and before our dessert came), Mabel’s friends Marisol (went to Cosalá with her) and her boyfriend Edgar (and him) called saying they were on their way. Since we were at a two top, we asked the waiter if we could move. We found a six top right next to the band. They were wrapping up before their first break and they came to sit with us. A little later, Elvia (Cosette’s godmother) and Oscar (boyfriend) joined us as well. We had a really good time. I absolutely love Diana. She’s so friendly and definitely owns a stage, but she doesn’t love the spotlight outside of singing. She always has something to say or ask about.

Something funny to note in the pictures: the gringa is wearing spaghetti straps and everyone else is in coats.