Mejico Revisited -- Tulum

Days 118-123...  Sibling Vacation in Tulum.

About the middle of my stay in Mejico, the 2 things I missed most were my family and the beach (close third was a real hamburger, but whatever).  Lucky to have the family that I do, 3 of my sisters agreed to meet me for a sibling vacation in Tulum.  Plans were set so that we'd meet in Cancun, drive south to and vacation in Tulum, and then leave Mejico together to celebrate Thanksgiving back in the Land of the Free.  (Special thanks to sister Hannah for coordinating and organizing the trip.)  We even managed to talk our cousin Shaina into coming along.  The stage was set for a perfect sibling vacay at the playa.

So a week before Thanksgiving, I caught the 4am bus to Mexico City and hopped on a plane to Cancun, where I rendezvoused with the girls.  They beat me to Cancun by an hour or so and took the initiative to get the rental car sorted out.  When they picked me up at the terminal, I was dressed in my finest Panama Jack attire (probably pictured somewhere below).

I want to point out that my sisters deplaned, collected their bags, found the bus to the rental lot, rented a car, and then made their way back to the airport to scoop me up.  They will swear up and down that I was the translator on this trip (they even nicknamed me Papa Azucar), but that was true only because they LET me show off my meager Spanish skills.  Cancun and the surrounding tourist areas are pretty Americanized.  My broken Spanish probably did more harm than good.  More on this later.

After a brief debacle at the check-in counter, we managed to upgrade to the LUXURIOUS Zanzibar suite, which featured private: pool, cabañas, hammocks, and kitchen.  The negotiation process began with the manager (a young Dutchman) angrily accusing us of trying to swindle him for the more expensive accommodations, but somehow ended with him happily handing us the keys and informing us that Zanzibar was "clothing optional."  (Thanks...)  You would be correct if you guessed that I was largely uninvolved in moving that debate from point A to point B.

The rest of the 5-day vacation went flawlessly, with pictures below to prove it.  The weather wasn't always sunny, but that provided time to enjoy a shaded hammock and a book, or mixed drinks and conversations on the couches shielded from the persisting rain.  When it was sunny, we ventured to the beach, the nearby ruins, and the small city center for some shopping.

In typically predictable fashion, the time flew by, and before we knew it the rental car was packed and we were driving north on the 1.5 hr stretch of highway towards the Cancun airport.  And this is where the vacation got interesting?

At this point, I had lived in Mexico for 4 months.  I had seen some highs (bull fights, futbol, bigotes), and I had seen some lows (food poisoning, no hot water, no water at all).  I was still a gringo in every sense of the derogatory word, but I knew the lay of the land.  Which means I knew that traffic laws (laws in general) were neither followed nor enforced.  So when driving back to Cancun we encountered some traffic cones, I did what ANY Mexican would do: I laughed and went around the cones.  But what any Mexican would NEVER have done--and what I could not have avoided as a gringo--was get caught.

In less than a minute after the traffic infraction had clumsily been maneuvered, the girls politely pointed out that there was a cop tailing us and that his lights were clearly on.  Being the voice of experience, I calmly told them that cops ALWAYS drive with their lights on.  You're really only in trouble when they yell at you through the megaphone.  "Yeah, he's already doing that too."

We pulled over, and I talked with the police officer through the window for a while.  I thought I'd buddy up to him in Spanish, he'd be amazed that a gringo had actually taken the time to learn his language, and then we'd do some sort of bro-handshake before he let me go with a pat on the back.  Negative, ghost rider.  He explained that he was taking my license and that I had to pay a fine to get it back.  When I suggestively mentioned that we were en route to the airport and did not have time for that, he smiled and said:

"Oh, you just want to pay it now?"

I felt defeated handing him the 1800 pesos (~$150 USD), but that feeling quickly dissolved when I saw La Policia Federal arrive on the scene.  Their navy blue Dodge Charger stopped next to our rental and two men disembarked.  The driver climbed out first, looking self-important and smug, and I immediately disliked him.  I forgot all about him, however, when I saw the guy climbing out of the back with his flack jacket, combat boots, and assault rifle.  My first thought was, "Ahh, this escalated quickly!"  And perhaps it's tempting to think that Mejico takes their traffic violations VERY seriously, but the truth be told, Mejico just takes very seriously their opportunities to take advantage of gringos.

The two cops argued amongst themselves for a minute or two before I plucked up the courage to excuse myself to continue towards the airport.  The first cop was saying that he had let me off with a warning, and the Federali was upset that I hadn't been fined.  I guess that story was technically true--I had received no traffic citation.  Regardless, I cut my losses and fled the scene, telling myself that while the bribe was not ideal, it was easily the lesser of two evils when compared to any other outcome.

We all made it back to the US without any further hiccups.  This trip to Tulum really was one of my favorites to date.  I expect that I'll someday be making another visit to those sandy beaches, though I will likely be forced to forge my own clothing optional deal with the Dutchman.

Thanks again for making the trip, girls.  It really meant a lot to me, and I wouldn't have traded it for anything, including that 1800 pesos "traffic fine."  Love you.  Here are a few of my favorite pics that survived the trip.  Rach, you'll recognize the "Off-color / Brooklup" one.  I don't think I've laughed that hard since.

On the beach, looking back towards the cabanas.

My beautiful sisters and cousin.  Sorry this isn't the best picture of you all, but it is the only picture I have of all of you?  Go figure, the rest are all myspace shots of myself...

Ruth testing the waters of our private pool.

Enjoying jokes..

Shaina being pretty/rad/clutch.

Hannah taking full advantage of the Zanzibar suite.

Take 1.

Take 2.

"Shaina, your cell phone is on the tortilla."  Thanks, Ruth.

Rainy Tulum / Zanzibar.

Day 86

Palabras.
Spanglish is ugly.  You know, where "ignorant" people think they can add an "o" to the end of any English word to make a Spanish one?  Well, in typical fashion, stereotypes DO generally come from somewhere, and those "brilliant" people were totally light years ahead of me.  Quick examples of what I'm talking about:  American becomes Americano, Mexican becomes Mexicano, etc.  To be perfectly correct, you add an "o" AND try not to pronounce it like a gringo.  But it doesn't stop there.  Here are a few examples of the times I felt the stupidest for asking ¿Como se dice...

• traffic = trafico
• graffiti = grafiti
• space = espacio
• idea = idea (particularly embarrassing...)

There is a funny story about someone (as in, not me...) asking how to say "cilantro" in English.  After several attempts to explain, in a situation resembling Abbott and Costello's "Who's On First" skit, it wasn't until someone finally said "cilantro" in a redneck accent that she understood it was the same word.  But not like that's never happened to me...

In general though, I'm finally at a point with my Spanish where I can use it to communicate clearly and easily.  There are times at work where I still get stuck on technical issues (i.e. my Spanish hasn't yet grown enough to encompass technical discussions about welding processes).  But one-on-one, outside of work issues, I actually hold pretty decent conversations in Spanish.  In groups, there are times when I lose the thread of the conversation, but I usually pick it up again when I realize I'm the butt of a joke.  In cases like these, my Spanish is luckily strong enough to crack a good joke, and then change the subject.  So while I definitely wouldn't say my Spanish is fluent, I do feel like I could accurately call it functional.

My favorite is talking to taxi drivers.  Since i don't have a car of my own, I do find myself in taxis pretty often, and it's kinda funny that these conversations always follow a similar pattern:

Me: "Eres de aqui?"  (Are you from here?)
Cabbie: "No, soy del DF" (No, I'm from Mexico City, Districto Federal)
Me: "Jaja, hay bastante personas aqui de Mexico.  Te gusta Queretaro?"  (Haha, there are tons of people here from Mexico City.  You like Queretaro?)
Cabbie: "Ooo, si.  [y much mas, muy rapido, que no pude entender]   Tu?"  (Ooh, sure. [and then a lot more, super fast, that I couldn't understand]  You?)
Me: "Por su puesto!  Queretaro es bonita, tranquila...  me gusta mucho.  Solamente falta una playa, nada mas."  (Of course!  Queretaro is pretty, laid-back...  I like it a lot.  It's only missing a beach, nothing else.)

The conversation then usually turns to Mexican beaches, but sometimes changes all together to talk about sports, work, etc.  But it almost ALWAYS starts off just like that.  And it's really funny, because a vast majority of the taxi drivers I've met are all from Mexico City.  [Side note: there are signs all over the highway, pointing you simply towards "Mexico"...  cracks me up every time.]  It's my guess in general that Queretaro has a huge population of people here from Mexico City.  Queretaro is actually supposed to be the fastest growing city in Mexico, according to the unbiased Queretanos that I have talked to.  So, assuming they're right, it would make sense that there are so many people coming here from Mexico City and other parts of the country.  It's kind of rare to meet someone who was born and raised here.  And not because it's a terrible place--it really is beautiful--but more because it's had such an unbelievable influx of people and rapid expansion in the last 10 years or so. 

Speaking of the beautiful city, I took the picture below while walking around the town one night with some folks from the Peace Corps.  Towards the top/right of the picture, you'll notice Los Arcos (The Arches).  They are Queretaro's second most famous monument, and are a set of aquaducts that were constructed way back in the day by a rich guy who was trying to woo a nun.  She promised they'd be together if he brought water to the city, he called her bluff, and she reneged.  As you can tell, I know this story real well.  But anyways, if you follow Los Arcos to the left, off into the distance, my house is located on the backside of that hill.  Just an FYI.

Ok, so I also promised an update about a really important soccer game and a really big party.  Really big party: didn't go.  I was at the really big soccer game, and by the time I got home and was able to head that way, my friend was too far into the party to hear his phone.  Oh well.

Big soccer game: Queretaro (Gallos Blancos) vs. Guadalajara (Chivas).  I asked what a "chiva" is, and I think I've deduced that it's more or less a billy goat.  So, the Billy Goats of Guadalajara took second place in La Cope de Libertadors this year, which more or less should signify that they are the second best team in all of Latin America.  And when you add that there are a lot of people living here from Guadalajara, you can see why the game was a big deal.  We over-achieved and tied them 2-2, a very respectable result for us.

There was another--more important--game that took place this last week as well.  On Tuesday, our Siemens team had our last regular season game, which we needed to win to qualify for the post-season.  After securing a quick 1-0 lead, we even quicker conceded the equalizer (1-1).  We held it down at 2-1 until halftime, our first goal coming from Alejandro on his birthday, and the second from Roberto on an impossible volley.  In the second half, Roberto notched his second goal in equally impressive fashion, and then unsuccessfully attempted a bicycle kick and hurt his hand (he returned to the game after some medical attention).  So, with 10 minutes left in the game, we held a lead of 3-2, with visions of glory before us.  Plagued by injuries (I was head-butted in the temple pretty hard and refused medical attention like a real man/idiot, Robert hurt his hand, and Oscar nearly broke his collar bone), however, we conceded two quick goals in the last 5 minutes or so and lost, with a final score of 4-3.  And thus ended our first, tragic season.  Now I get to focus on my American football career... blah.  I need to find another soccer team.

Day 77

Bicentenario, Bulls, & More.

So I haven´t written in a while?  A lot has definitely happened since I last put anything up.  For instance, I went to a bull fight, I celebrated Mexico's Bicentenario de Independencia, and I also got to go back to the US for a week.  Even though I was working the whole week in North Carolina, everyone in Querétaro asked me how my vacation was... whatever, I'm totally not bothered by it.

Bicentenario.  Boomshakalaka.  I actually got the opportunity to celebrate Mexico's 200th anniversary of independence, which is also conveniently the 100th anniversary of the end of their civil war... which is where Zapata and Pancho Villa became famous, on an interesting side note.  Anyways, Siemens gave us Thursday and Friday off to celebrate this bad boy (which helped make up for working over Labor Day, when all my friends were vacationing real hard).  "El Grito" was Wednesday night at 11pm, which meant that all the good parties started sometime that afternoon and definitely didn't stop til...  Well, I know I tapped out around 330am Thursday, and there were many abuelas still going strong at that point.  My good friend Alejandro said he didn't get to bed til 7am or later.  Needless to say, in addition to the altitude, there are plenty of other things to which this gringo has not adjusted.

El Grito ("The Scream") to me is pretty much the Mexican equivalent of what Paul Revere did for our Revolution.  This one was all in Spanish (obviously), and finished with a bunch of Viva's:  Zapata, Villa, and then like 6 "Viva Mexico's."  The president led the cry from the window of a government building in Mexico City, and this was immediately followed by a worthy fireworks display.  Not saying I teared up myself (I totally did), but I felt honored to be able to sit in on something so monumental, and to see so many people be so proud of their country.  Regardless of one's views on immigration, drug wars, or jalapeños, I think anyone would have been impressed in a similar way if they had been able to stand in my shoes that night.

Right right, so that was El Grito, late Wednesday night.  Earlier that day, I went to my first bullfight!!  And it was awesome.  It's a tradition to buy a bota (wineskin) to drink out of during the game, and then perhaps throw to the matador if he does real well.  [Actually, if he does REALLY well, the matador wins the hoofs and tail and maybe ever ears of the bull, and depending on how generous he feels, those very same trophies are then tossed into the crowd.  The website I looked at made this sound like a good thing, but I was sure as hell that I was going to dig deep and pull out my best "Dodge Bull" skills if a bloody hoof came flying into my half of the plaza.]  When in Rome, or in a bullfighting ring in Mexico, you have to do like the locals.  Needless to say I bought a badass bota, that I knew I would never be selfless enough to share with any matador.  What I did not know, however, when I bought my bota the day before the fight, was that it takes a full 5 or 6 days to prep a wineskin before you can actually drink out of it.  Undeterred, we also purchased a super crappy bota at the event so that we could fulfill the cultural mandate.  For some reason, "fulfilling the cultural mandate" felt more like "not wussing out on a dare." 

In addition to awesome, the bullfight was SHOCKING.  Honestly, I didn't realize that they don't always kill the bulls in bullfights.  Supposedly this is a new thing?  Whatever the case, I double-checked beforehand and was STOKED to find out that they were going to kill the bulls.  Let me admit with some embarrassment that up to this point in my life, I had really only ever witnessed the death of two animals: I once hit a dog that ran out in front of my volvo, and then also accidentally smothered a baby chicken to death in my sleep (kind of a long story...).  But geez, I don't know what I expected the death of a bull to look like, but it caught me WAY off guard.  The process of a bullfight is real long, and I don't want to explain it all, but let's just say that they stab it a bunch of times before the main matador steps into the ring (there are a bunch of mini-matadors who run around with the bull for a while before things get serious).

"So how DOES a matador kill a bull??" you may be asking yourself.  Great question.  Literally, he stabs his sword through the back of the neck, just behind the head, hopefully severing the spinal cord.  That's real hard though, so normally they just stick the sword in the bull's back (bull takes this in stride, super impressive), and then the matador goes to Plan B, which is trying to achieve the same result with a different sword.  Did you know that when a bull dies, it immediately falls to its side and its feet stick out/up to the side??  I had seen so many cartoons portray this when I was little, and I had no idea how accurate they were.  And the most disturbing thing: after the matador successfully kills the bull, a small team of guys runs out of the tunnel to stab the bull a few more times to make sure it's dead dead dead, while the matador walks around the plaza blowing kisses to the crowd and drinking from random wineskins (can't be healthy).  In the picture below, you can see the small team in the ring attending to the bull (off in the distance a little)... as well as the clientele in the foreground.

Altogether, I saw 7 bulls.  There were 3 matadores, each of whom fought 2 bulls.  However, one of the bulls they brought out was young and not a very tough match (didn't charge much), so they let a matador-in-training have a go at him.  And I'm a little surprised to say that after bull #2--bull #3 at the very latest--I was totally okay with the whole thing.  I dunno, maybe it was watching grown men chug wine, as the entire crowd cheered them on, counting for how many seconds he could keep going.  But whatever the case, by the end of it, I was totally a believer.  Well, at least in the bota idea, if not the whole bull killing thing.  There's a guy in the middle of this next picture chugging... he's sort of blocked from view, but you can his blue-sleeved arms holding the wineskin, and also that pretty much everyone nearby is cheering him on.  This was during an intermission?  If you have trouble finding Waldo, the picture should enlarge if you click on it.

Later in the weekend, I also had the chance to go to a ranch in Michoacan.  Some gringos have told me that Michoacan grows some of the finest marijuana around.  More recently, some Mexicans have told me that Michoacan grows the cocaine that the Narco's are smuggling across the border.  I didn't really see either drug (or any at all, actually), but the ranch was incredibly verdant, so I could see why certain people would grow certain cash crops there. 

The ranch belongs to my friend's in-laws, who run a trout farm on their beautiful property.  We pretty much just relaxed for a day and a half, eating an enormous amount of carne asada.  I wouldn't have changed a single minute of it.  Well, except for nearly losing my sneakers when my feet sunk into the mud during a walk to the stream.  Other than that though, no changes.

The Monday following Bicentenario, I flew to NC for a week of training for Siemens.  I passed the evenings at the hotel by jogging and swimming, and avoiding the guy at the counter who kept winking at me without really winking at me.  I flew out early Friday afternoon to FL to surprise my parents for the weekend.  Luckily no one had a heart attack, and in general the surprise was received well by all.  Mom was a little upset that her and Dad were the only ones who didn't know I was coming... Sorry, Momma, but a surprise is a surprise.  Thanks for letting it slide this time.

And so now I'm back in Mexico.  Home.  OF COURSE I had terrible luck again flying back with Delta... I arrived, and then my bags did, 2 days later, soaking wet for some reason?  I still don't even know that would happen.  Did they fall out of the plane over the gulf, and then get retrieved by the Delta Search & Rescue Squad?  Whatever.  This place is really starting to feel like home, and I really am very thankful to be here, just in general, but also specifically at this time in my life and in the life of Mexico.  Now all I have to do is figure out where I'll be living/working in January...  No hay problema.

Miss you all lots.  Tomorrow holds in store a big soccer game, as well as a big party (my friend Alejandro is being christened a Godfather tomorrow).  Hopefully details will follow shortly.  Adios.

Day 45

Anticipation & Consternation.

Fabio got fired.  There is really no way to soften the blow, or to beat around the bush--Fabio got canned.  And for what?  For the very thing that originally endeared me to the guy: verbally abusing the receptionist who is universally known to be a terrible person.  What Fabio failed to consider--or perhaps considered, but then neglected in favor of his duty to state the oft thought but ne'er spoken truth about this woman--was the power she held.  And in the long run, I'd have to say that this was a landslide decision for the receptionist, if not a straight up KO.  Sure, he landed a few good punches ("You're a terrible person!...  Not even talking about work--you, as a person, are AWFUL!!").  But he got the boot.  In slightly distasteful memorial of Fabio, here is a quick picture of what he did not look like:

So now I am a self-taught Spanish student, and I think actually prefer it?  Fabio was a great guy, and he had a huge advantage as a teacher, compared to me homeschooling myself, which is that he speaks fluent Spanish.  Luckily I work with some 500 Spanish teachers.  HR is trying to find a bona fide replacement for Fabio, but there's really no time frame for the search, so I'm not holding my breath.

On the sports front, we lost our first game to kick off the official Siemens league.  So tragic.  The team we played against wasn't great, and two of our best guys got hurt... seems like our next few games will only be harder.  Being engineers though, we took some time to talk X's and O's after our loss, and I think we have things pretty well sorted out.  Wednesday night, 7pm, at Las Canchas Hernandez.  It's going to be epic.  Unrelated, here's a funny picture:

That's pretty much it for the consternation portion of this blog (ugh, except that I totally just lost track of time and forgot about the tortilla on the stove...).  Apart from all that, there are actually a few opportunities that I'm real excited about:

1. for our Siemens team to redeem ourselves this Wednesday night,
2. for the Queretaro Gallos Blancos to redeem themselves this Saturday (the Gators as well),
3. to hang out with the small crowd of Peace Corps volunteers here in Queretaro (some very cool kids),
4. and to celebrate Mexico's 200th anniversary of independence from Spain, in the city where the whole thing began.

No lie: the story of Mexican Independence totally begins in Queretaro.  Obviously I'm not going to recount it all right now--you can read up on it on Wikipedia, just as I did, if you really want the cold, hard facts...  But assuming Wikipedia is halfway right (confirmed by my unbiased Mexican friends here in Queretaro), that really only makes my placement here in Mexico that much sweeter.  I honestly can't say enough about how lucky and blessed I feel to be here.  The short story is that I'm being paid to live abroad for six months, in a sweet house that almost rivals the one I left in Orlando (ALMOST), in a city that is bigger and safer than the one I just left, where said city also happens to be the epicenter for Mexican Independence, the 200th anniversary of which will be celebrated next week.  (Cinco de Mayo is totally not Mexican independence day; it's September 16.  Cinco de Mayo was probably actually more significant to American history than Mexico's, if Wikipedia informs me correctly.)  Oh yeah, did I mention that I'm just plain happy to have a job right now, period, let alone this one?  All that to say, things are going well.  Don't worry, mom: still no sign of cartels or scorpions.

Day 37

Frijoles to Football: Gringo Getting Settled In.

I've been writing a little less lately for two reasons, I think.  First, I've just been busier.  I'm making friends, joining WAY to many soccer teams, and working long hours.  Second, I think I'm getting used to things around.  Bathroom etiquette is finally becoming less of a mystery (except that I realized people smoke WHILE doing their business, so that when I go to do mine, I'm basically being hotboxed with secondhand smoke, my favorite), people are beginning to know me (and vice versa), and I'm slowly but surely picking up on the language and culture so that I don't make as many stupid gringo errors.  That's not to say that I've completely rid myself of them, but just that they're certainly waning.  But still, there's a lot going on, and a lot that I continually laugh about, not to mention that I manage to keep making some "great" decisions...

Speaking of which, today was a beautiful day in Queretaro.  The sun was shining, there was a nice breeze, and I had time to burn before my football game (to be addressed later).  Since I work 8-6 every day during the week, I miss out on prime suntanning hours during the week, and almost sunlight in general.  When factored in with my already pale complexion, I'm basically ghost-like.  So, I figured I'd be proactive and tan a little.  You never know when an impromptu beach trip will strike (that is, when I'll be successful in launching one), so I figured I ought to be ready and pre-tan.  So, scantily clad, I laid out for a little while.  As in, maybe 30 minutes each side?  And now the backs of my thighs are BRIGHT red.  As in, it's painful to sit down and write this blog.  How much do I look forward to my desk job this week?  Less than usual.  I was wondering what grandpa would say about this, and I've decided he probably wouldn't have said anything.  He just would have laughed real hard, in my face, and that would have been enough.  Eh, he might have pointed out that I am a jackass, but I can't see him elaborating much beyond that.

So I've finally been able to have a few people over to the house for dinner and drinks.  I think they're always a little disappointed and surprised to see the that I made salsa, guacamole, and pinto beans.  For starters, those are pretty much the same things they've eaten every day of their lives, and they were probably hoping for something a little more exotic--like hamburgers or fried chicken.  But moreover, I think they're just shocked that a gringo would not only have those foods, but that he would have made them himself.  One guy actually straight up said to me: "I didn't know that gringos liked frijoles!"  Um, I'm pretty sure most don't, it's kinda just me.  After complimenting the salsa, someone else asked, "You like spicy food??"  I explained that I do, but that it makes my eyes tear up and my nose run.  That one was actually kind of embarrassing to admit, but obvious since I had just set a box of tissues on the table.  All in all though, I've been happy to host a few people over at my house and even make a few friends outside of work.  In a lot of ways, Mexico has stopped being such a novelty and is really starting to feel like home.  So, now instead of being shocked by the cleaning ladies hanging out in the guy's bathroom, I think I'm starting to get a better feel for what makes people tick around here, how they are in a lot ways just the same as me, and how they are real different in some.  It is still a little too soon to fathom the depths of the Mexican people (shocking, I know), so I'll digress and tell you about how I did my best to fulfill stereotypes in my football game this afternoon.  Yes, I said "fulfill."

We had our last game of the season today (only my second game).  We were down 2 players, so we definitely drafted one guy's girlfriend into playing with us, since she looked sorta kinda dressed for the occasion.  En route to a 13-20 loss, I managed to score 2 touchdowns and snag an interception.  While it wasn't enough to win the game, it was enough to earn an invitation to play with them for the next season.  Which starts in 3 weeks.  And, of course, because I have never said no to anyone before, why start now?  This means I'm now playing on 1 American Football team, 2 futbol teams, and then have also been invited to play on a pretty serious ultimate frisbee team.  Apparently the ultimate frisbee team has won 2 large tournaments in Mexico City?  The guy said they were "good, but not American good."  So, I'm like a gringo talisman?  Pretty sure that's actually what is going on here.  Whatever, I enjoy playing football and futbol (probably going to politely decline the ultimate invite...), so I'll take it as a compliment and enjoy the camaraderie.  Here is an actual picture from today's game:

In other news, we had a lot of very important people visit the factory last week, so everyone was real stressed out.  Except for me.  Because I didn't realize that I was supposed to be stressed out.  Probably this is one good case of when "ignorance" really was bliss, or at least not as bad as "awareness."  Whatever the case, I got to go to dinner with everyone on Thursday night.  In total, there were 3 VP's, 3 CFO's, and a handful of upper managers.  I kept laughing to myself during dinner, thinking about how I'm only a year out of college, and was sitting around a table in Mexico with the 6-10 guys who are driving this business in the Americas.  I felt a little bad about laughing at apparently nothing, until the real important people ordered a round of tequila shots.  I figured out then that most everyone else was probably laughing at something themselves.  Someone commented later that I had made a good impression on the people above me (probably not everyone I ate dinner with, but maybe one or two of the ones who mattered).  Glad to know they made their assessment and left town before I had a chance to burn my backside.

Fabio

I Can't Believe It's Not Fabio!

Last Monday I started Spanish classes with Fabio.  I got up early to shower and eat a healthy breakfast, fully aware of the mentally taxing class that lay ahead.  Honestly, I was probably just as nervous as my niece was when she started Kindergarten that same day (coincidence?).  #2 pencils sharpened and ready, I eagerly rode to work.

My Spanish teacher and I started off on the wrong foot, let's be honest.  First, he looks nothing like the other Fabio, the man who sold more margarine worldwide than Michael Jordan did Wheaties (probably).  Eh, I guess that was really the only thing I had against him, but you know how first impressions are.  He's in his mid-to-late 40's, worked a couple years in the US as an editor, before returning to Queretaro to be a freelance English teacher.  He's a nice enough guy, but I really wasn't super impressed with him until an hour into our first lesson, when he got into a verbal argument with the receptionist, who had just kicked us out of the room for no apparent reason.

I didn't exactly follow the verbal barrage that was exchanged, but I didn't need to.  You could tell by the tones that each was giving the other a shellacking.  Later, however, I was given a brief synopsis of what transpired, which was roughly that she was in fact a terrible person, and he made sure that she knew it.  In so many words.  Several times over.


Naturally, I had a lot of respect for the man after said incident.  He had valiantly fought for a legitimate classroom for which to use to teach me the many intricacies of the Spanish language.  I'm sure the other Fabio would've done the same.  And, sure, Spanish Teacher Fabio totally got worked by the receptionist, and now we've been exiled to the cafeteria which smells and is loud, but I appreciate the effort.

Since then, Fabio has totally turned out to be pretty flaky.  He skipped our second class altogether, apologizing afterward "if I had waited around" for him (I had given him 10 minutes), and then was a full 45 minutes late for the third class.  But still, I'm giving the man a mulligan, since he clearly loves what he does... or knows that he can show up late and make up for it by calling class 15 minutes early.  Whatever.  I've got work to do, and I'm learning Spanish.  I mean, there are still a lot things I have no idea how to say, but I DO know 5 different ways to tell someone their being a jackass (some ways more colorful than others).  Fabio had nothing to do with me learning those, but at least I'm learning, and that's the important thing, right?

Day 31

Long Overdue.

It's been a little while since I wrote anything, but that's only because I was busy doing totally blog-worthy things, such as:

1. becoming the token gringo in an American football league, which is ironic since I never seriously played the sport while in America (I have confirmed earlier suspicions that football is not my calling in life),
2. joining another soccer team,
3. logging a solid 45 minutes behind the wheel of a car during rush hour traffic in Queretaro (I got cut off by a teenage girl driving a Ford Aerostar),
4. attending couple bbq's/parties with my friend Alex,
5. experiencing the Mexican custom of drinking beers on the street after a long week, which was followed by 
6. moving to a friend's half-built house to finish the crate of beers while sitting on boxes of tiles, and
7. going to my first professional soccer game in Mexico: the Queretaro Gallos Blancos vs. America from Mexico City.

Needless to say, it's been a very busy 10 days or so.  Which is great, except that I woke up Monday morning thinking it was Sunday.  Kinda feels like the work week started off with an illegal blow below the belt, just saying.

So anyways, about this soccer game:  Alex and I got tickets from a friend at work and hit the stadium on Sunday afternoon.  We sat with La Resistencia, Queretaro's group of hooligans.  I was fairly warned beforehand that I should be careful/ready for them, and I mentally prepared myself as much as I could--I mean, I was ready to drink a beer and cheer loudly.  But I was completely blindsided when everyone in the stands just straight up started running towards the field, and then back up again, and then side-to-side.  They have a song which clearly tells everyone who wants to to get out of the way what's coming.  But being as that my Spanish still kinda sucks, I missed the memo.  And then got shoved in back, straight into some guy's girlfriend, at which point the guy felt the need to express his discontent for my actions.  A few minutes later, I think he realized that it was the mob of people behind me who forced the foul, and we exchanged the international dude symbol for "we're cool": we slapped five, in the bro way (part high-five, part handshake, part chest bump).


Other fun facts from the game...  I witnessed--and then later smelled--a drug deal go down, people from my section got in a fight with the police after the game, and I learned that it's pretty common for the same hooligans to fill cups full of urine and then launch it at the people further down into the stands.  VERY glad to report that I didn't learn this firsthand, only heard rumors about it this morning at the office.  La Resistencia are a little too into cheering/moshing/urinating for my taste (watching the game?), but I still think I've found a home team that I can support.

There are so many things that I have forgotten to mention, such as Fabio The Spanish Teacher.  I think the other ones may be lost forever, but let me quit this post and give Fabio his own, since he's totally deserving.