MexiFaux-Pas

If you're going to meet some new Mexican friends at a coffee shop, make sure you've first gotten over that all-Mexicans-look-alike phase.

In related news, the quickest way to lose MexiFriends you've barely gotten to know is to look at them like you have no idea why they're staring at you.

By the time I realized what I had done, the damage was done.

Take a fucking shower already!

Upon your fourth day of not showering, when you feel like your skin is crawling, it's actually just things crawling on your skin.

Vignettes from my bizzare MexiLife

Is it my imagination, or did my masseuse Rocio work my upper inner thigh a little longer than she needed to?
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Yesterday my neighbor presented his 24-year-old daughter to me like she was a side of beef. It went like this, in English, "I'd like you to start dating my daughter, please. She's shy, and she'll pretend like she doesn't want to date you, but she truly does. I think you can see that she's quite attractive, and she's a good woman to keep around. She's never had any kids, and she's relatively unspoiled. Perhaps you two could arrange something for later in the afternoon. I hear the beach is a lovely place to take a date. Anyway, she's always here, next door. She'll be waiting."

My response was, "Well, actually, I do need a Spanish tutor. So..."
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The armed services prepare you for a life of rugged travel. I hung out for a few days with a surfer-dude from Wisconsin who was a veteran of the Iraq War. He was driving alone from Wisconsin to the bottom of Mexico, and taking six months to do it. His hotel was only $6 a night, and we stopped by there to pick up some of his stuff. I looked at the bed and saw a line of small bugs, dozens and dozens, traversing the bed from head to foot. I said, "Hey, man, you've got a bug problem in here."

Without looking over at the rope of bugs crawling across the bed, he replied, "Yeah, they don't bite, so they don't bother me none."
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I was recently chased down the street by a man carrying a big papier-mâché rat that was shooting sparks, fireworks and rockets into the crowded alleys around us. These things were fucking dangerous: I saw a rocket land in someone's clothes, resulting in burnt clothes galore. Everybody was shrieking with glee. Mexicans have a much better sense of humor than we Gringos.

I was hit by a MexiBus! And: one upset ceramics teacher

I was hit by a fucking bus! Ok, now, don't worry, I was really only "clipped" by a bus and knocked to the ground while I was on my bike. The MexiBus and I were negotiating the same very small lane going up a hill, and I started losing my balance and leaning into the bus while it was moving at about 20 m.p.h. and I was going about 5 m.p.h. I bounced off the side of it a couple times and then the rear bumper finally gave me the good push to the ground. My elbow was the only thing that got bloodied up, so I was more surprised than hurt.

Now, if you're wondering if the MexiBus stopped to see if I was OK, you're officially as naive as I am.

In other news, telling your ceramics teacher you couldn't come to class because you had a cold is not seen as a good excuse in a hot, tropical environment. That it's partially true, and also that it's the only illness you know the Spanish word for, these are not things that really matter to said ceramics teacher. Artists are hard to please.

MexiFriends and Spring Breakers galore!

It's amazing how good paradise is when you have fun people to share it with. Now, more observations:

• There's a day-care center here called the Kid Cave. This is a marketing faux-pas that would never happen in the States. When I come back to America I'm opening up the Lil' Darling Dungeon.
• Is it still considered "jailbait" if you know you would never be sent to jail for it?
• My pink sunglasses are starting to do the trick at making people realize I'm a fixture here: I overheard one Mexiguy today at the beach telling another, "That's the guy from California." Fucking awesome.
• My 20 min phone call today cost the same amount as my weekly hour massage.

Feeling better, learning to surf

• Washing fruits and vegetables in non-potable water makes you wonder, “What’s the point?”
• In Spanish, the literal translation for constipation refers to a stuffy nose rather than a clogged-up ass. So, when you go to a doctor about a sinus infection and he asks you if you’re constipated, he’s not just being über-thorough.
• MexiWomen will never say no when you ask them out, anywhere, to do anything. At first, this seems like a boon, like fishing with dynamite. However, what MexiWomen will do—the majority of times, apparently—is not show up. No show, no call, nothing. According to reliable MexiSources, this is the industry standard for the first two or three times you ask a girl out here. MexiMen even account for this phenomenon by making backup plans on date nights, or by not showing up themselves. As you can guess, this practice is traumatizing to a foreigner who has never heard of this little cultural gem, the very same foreigner who has been stood up twice in one night by the same girl. Perhaps this little nugget should be written in guidebooks or posted at the fucking airport, because when someone who has never been stood-up has it happen twice in one night, he—a hypothetical everyman, of course—gets upset and daydreams of pushing MexiFamiles into traffic.
• The over-the-counter cold meds here are packed full of chemicals that I’m pretty sure have been illegal in the states for, like, always. They really do the trick. Although, now I have this insatiable craving for crystal meth and I can’t seem to figure out why….
• US$6.66 All-You-Can-Motherfucking-Eat Pork Ribs. Come visit me and we’ll eat until we can’t feel feelings.
• I’m learning to talk shit like 50-year-old MexiWomen. Thanks, ceramics class.
• Midwestern and Canadian spring-breakers are well fed. Nothing like their coked-out Californian counterparts over in Baja.

Recovering from food poisoning. Mood: guarded

• After all we’ve been through together and in spite of all the wonderful times we’ve shared, I have finally been betrayed by cheese. I ate a heaping plate of nachos at a “nice” (read: expensive) restaurant and threw up for the next eight hours. That makes the count for food poisoning in my life four times, of which Mexico was the culprit twice. Not great odds for a place where I’ve lived less than 1/500th of my life.
• The window here between female sexual maturity and marriage/pregnancy is so small that you really have to be on top of your game. I tried to start up a conversation with a beautiful MexiGirl last night, only to see her become fat and pregnant right before my eyes. This isn’t magic realism! It really happened!!!
• 6:30 AM bodysurfing trip equals bloody feet by 10:00 AM. I didn’t even know my feet had all these muscles! It seems like their only purpose is to become sore, blistered and bloody.
• Conversation this morning between me and a surfer (in Spanish)
  Him: Hey whiteboy, you see that wave?
  Me: Yeah, crazy.
  Him: Yeah, for sure, man, cool.
  Me: Way cool, man…it, like, is really big and cool.
  Him: Yeah, man, for sure.
  Me: Yeah, crazy, man.
  Him: So, you don’t really speak Spanish, do you?
• Cocaine is US$10 a gram here, marijuana US$50 an ounce, yet ecstasy is still US$10-15 a hit…what gives? This is supposed to be the drug capital of the fucking country, c’mon, people!
• Pre-sliced, pre-packaged, pre-toasted toast does actually get stale after about a week of being left out. But, it just reverts back to normal, flimsy bread. Strange. Still no word on whether it can support mold growth or not. My hypothesis is sí.

My First Batch of Observations

• Apparently, if you tell a cabbie in Mazatlán to take you to a spot where you can meet local women, you get dropped off at what appears to be a shitty hotel, but what actually turns out to be just a whorehouse on the outskirts of town.
• The cabbies here see white skin and double their quoted prices, until you tell them in Spanish, “Fuck you man! I live here. I’m no goddamned tourist.” Then they quote you the right price.
• Pre-packaged, pre-sliced toast is perfect because it never gets stale, ever. It can’t even grow mold, I think.
• White people all look alike to Mexicans, which really helps when you’re sneaking into bars, clubs and resorts.
• There’s a law here that can be paraphrased like this: “It is unlawful to seduce a minor with promises of marriage without actually going through with said marriage.” Let me break this down for you in case you didn’t catch how preposterous this is. Seducing a minor: OK. Lying about your intentions to marry a minor: OK. Combining the two: Not OK.
• When you meet a local girl in a club and she starts talking about her troubles paying her bills, do not try to get her into bed. Her home will have no electricity. On the way to this home, she will go into a store to buy potato chips, asking you for the equivalent of US$5 to pay for them. When she comes out of the store, she will be carrying a bag of chips which you know to cost only US$0.30.
• I’ve been duped! I walked into an art school that had gorgeous women seemingly oozing out of the cracks in the walls. I asked the administrator if there was a ceramics class available, to which she responded, “Yes, but you’d be the only Gringo and the only guy in the whole class.” I replied, “What a shame…where do I sign?” Then I showed up for the first day of class and I was the only Gringo, and I was the only guy, but I also was the only person under 50 fucking years old. Anyway, I’m learning how to make a bowl. It’s pretty tough, but I think with enough practice….
• While surfing and boogie-boarding are extremely popular with Mexicans, body surfing is apparently something that never crossed the border. When I swam out in the water with no accessories and caught some good waves, the Mexican surfers looked at me like I was Jesus, or, rather Jesús.
• I got an electric two-burner stove a couple days ago. Each burner has just an on/off switch, with no sort of temperature control or anything. When I took it out of the package and plugged it in, I should have checked if the switches had been accidentally flipped to “on” during shipping and storage. What I really shouldn’t have done was look at the burner and think, “That’s such an interesting color of metal. I wonder what it feels like.”
• There’s a Wal-Mart, Sam’s Club, OfficeMax, Starbucks, Burger King, McDonald’s, Baskin & Robbin’s, Dairy Queen, Home Depot, Holiday Inn, Howard Johnson, Crowne Plaza and Hilton here in Mazatlán, México. It’s possible to live here permanently without ever feeling like you left LA.
• The water is periodically shut off in my part of town to make enough water for the touristy and ex-pat part of town. Last night, I met a girl who proclaimed she was having the worst day ever because her hotel shower had run out of hot water after only three minutes. That same day, I had to shower with a bucket of non-potable water which I had collected from a leaky pipe underneath my sink. I walked away from her immediately. Hey Lynette, wherever you are: Fuck You.
• It’s hard to speak Spanish with your mouth full. Or while chewing gum. Or when tired. Or anytime, really. Speaking Spanish is hard.
• It’s a lot easier to stay sober here than I thought it would be, mostly because I’m reminded daily that this is a lethal place for a blackout drunk.
• Cabbies—and really all Mexicans who gain a living from tourism—absolutely LOVE you if you swindle Gringos for them (e.g. by telling the tourists that $100 pesos is the normal price for a cab ride of that length, while ushering them into the cab). And once you’re among the fold of cabbies, you’re in, babe, you’re in.
• I’ve become very good at nodding assent and making agreeable noises while people are talking to or around me, as though I’m actually understanding what they’re saying. It’s all about listening to the rhythm of the words rather than the words themselves. Wait for a slight pause in the cadence, and then interject with a “uh-huh” or “sí,” and everyone is fooled into thinking that you’re following right along. The problem with this method is that there are inevitably times when you unknowingly promise to attend bible study and dinner at the nearby missionary school.
• For the sake of your digestive system and general wellbeing, when a group of Mexican toddlers is eating from a bowl of chilies like they’re candy, don’t assume it’s safe. It is in no way safe, you Western European-stomached fuck. Then, as if flaming insides weren’t enough to teach you a lesson, you’ll have to answer questions from the toddlers like, “What, you don’t like your dinner?” and worse, “Why are you crying?”
• Food poisoning, food poisoning is no fun. Food poisoning, food poisoning hurts someone.
• $12-an-hour massages are better than sex, which, coincidentally, runs $55 for the same amount of time.