Hernan's grandmother passed away. She was the matriarch of a very large family, and Hernan was extremely close to her. Everyone is grieving.
We're going up to GDL Tuesday to see whether my mother-in-law can't get special permission to travel to the States to attend the funeral. At the same time, I'll be trying to get Hanix's passport. We had an appointment for him to register his birth down here with the US consulate and to get his passport, but it would be too late for us to fly. So we've requested a special urgent interview. I hope they give us the passport then and there on Tuesday, but I don't know how it works.
So I might find myself in California next week. Then again, I might not.
I really hope my mother-in-law is given permission to travel. She had a green card back when she was a teenager but it somehow got lost (I didn't understand the conversation, but I think it involved her husband) and she was then issued a visitor's visa instead. But that visa expired last year, and they wouldn't let her renew it. I have no idea why not, and they never gave her a reason. She traveled about once a year to the States, stayed a few weeks visiting family, and then flew home again. She never stuck around or tried to work or anything like that, so I don't know why they wouldn't renew it for her. She's such a sweet lady, but is awfully timid in front of The Man. I'm wondering whether we can't get her her greencard again, since her name surely exists in the government's records.
Anyway, there's no time for that right now. I just hope she gets to go to her mother's funeral. Poor Hernan has no chance at all of going. He hopes his son gets to go. I hope so too.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Brown Paper Packages Tied Up With String
This one's for you, Margherita.
Moving to Meheeko isn't all bad. Down here, for example, you can have fresh tortillas whenever you want! Mexican food is bombdiggity, especially if you can score an in-law to cook it for you.
Avocados. Mangoes. All manner of strange, foreign fruits.
And much of the food is pretty fresh, because is was grown in Mexico. The meat is often butchered within a few block radius of where you are, the eggs are often local.
You can send a small child to the store to buy you beer.
You won't have to shovel snow.
You'll probably be within two blocks of four or more small tiendas, so when you realize you forgot to buy milk it'll probably only take you five minutes (tops) to go back for it, and that includes the time it takes to think of the Spanish to explain to the clerk why you're back so soon.
You get to enjoy seeing people ride horses to run their errands (at least I do. Maybe not in all of Mexico, eh?)
People spend a lot more time outside of their houses (at least in small towns, it seems), especially in the evenings. They chat with their neighbors in front of their houses.
Houses come in surprisingly many colors.
Taunting children who try to climb up a tall pole greased in lard to get to the presents tied at the top (what inspired this post- because that just won't fly in the States).
Men who dance.
Strangers will love your babies.
Um... the opportunity to get to know yourself better.
Not worrying about deportation.
And fresh tortillas whenever you want! Did I mention that?
Feel free to add on, other Mexico residents.
Moving to Meheeko isn't all bad. Down here, for example, you can have fresh tortillas whenever you want! Mexican food is bombdiggity, especially if you can score an in-law to cook it for you.
Avocados. Mangoes. All manner of strange, foreign fruits.
And much of the food is pretty fresh, because is was grown in Mexico. The meat is often butchered within a few block radius of where you are, the eggs are often local.
You can send a small child to the store to buy you beer.
You won't have to shovel snow.
You'll probably be within two blocks of four or more small tiendas, so when you realize you forgot to buy milk it'll probably only take you five minutes (tops) to go back for it, and that includes the time it takes to think of the Spanish to explain to the clerk why you're back so soon.
You get to enjoy seeing people ride horses to run their errands (at least I do. Maybe not in all of Mexico, eh?)
People spend a lot more time outside of their houses (at least in small towns, it seems), especially in the evenings. They chat with their neighbors in front of their houses.
Houses come in surprisingly many colors.
Taunting children who try to climb up a tall pole greased in lard to get to the presents tied at the top (what inspired this post- because that just won't fly in the States).
Men who dance.
Strangers will love your babies.
Um... the opportunity to get to know yourself better.
Not worrying about deportation.
And fresh tortillas whenever you want! Did I mention that?
Feel free to add on, other Mexico residents.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Greased Pole Woe
It is with a heart laden with sorrow and regret that I post today. This year, to celebrate Mexico's triumph of independence there was much revelry, there was joyful celebration, there was great festivity, but alas! there was no greased pole.
Last year's greased pole event was the highlight of the entire Independence Day weekend celebration. It beat out the drunk-driving/water-fight/bicycle-race mayhem, the crowning of the Queen of San Juan Cosalá, and even the street fight, which placed second in the Memorable Events of Independence Day Weekend 2008 Contest. After all, it's not every day I get to see my husband pantsed while shimmying up a pole greased in pork lard to throw presents to a cheering crowd. (Oh, but that it were!)
But this year, the traditional greased pole event did not take place.
The news gets even sadder here, so steel yourself. The reason that there was no present-bearing pork lard greased pole event in the plaza this year is that the "winner" of last year's event shirked his responsibility in organizing the preparations for this year's present-bearing pork lard greased pole event. You can only imagine my credulity when I discovered that the man who deprived me and the whole town (but mostly me) of the year's greatest ado is the very man to whom I pledged my love and lifelong commitment.
To atone, he will begin this very month the preparations of next year's present-bearing pork lard greased pole event, so that this great tradition will not disappear from San Juan Cosalá.
Last year's greased pole event was the highlight of the entire Independence Day weekend celebration. It beat out the drunk-driving/water-fight/bicycle-race mayhem, the crowning of the Queen of San Juan Cosalá, and even the street fight, which placed second in the Memorable Events of Independence Day Weekend 2008 Contest. After all, it's not every day I get to see my husband pantsed while shimmying up a pole greased in pork lard to throw presents to a cheering crowd. (Oh, but that it were!)
But this year, the traditional greased pole event did not take place.
The news gets even sadder here, so steel yourself. The reason that there was no present-bearing pork lard greased pole event in the plaza this year is that the "winner" of last year's event shirked his responsibility in organizing the preparations for this year's present-bearing pork lard greased pole event. You can only imagine my credulity when I discovered that the man who deprived me and the whole town (but mostly me) of the year's greatest ado is the very man to whom I pledged my love and lifelong commitment.
To atone, he will begin this very month the preparations of next year's present-bearing pork lard greased pole event, so that this great tradition will not disappear from San Juan Cosalá.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
El Grito
Last night we walked down to the plaza for el grito. I was sorely disappointed.
Someone on stage read off the names of Mexican heroes (Morelos, Hidalgo, Allende, etc.) and the crowd responded with "Viva!" and then came "Viva Jalisco" "Viva!" "Viva San Juan Cosalá" "Viva!" and then "Viva Mexico" "Viva! Viva! Viva!" I like the idea of everyone getting together and shouting things in unison. (Also why singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" with a crowd of strangers is the only part I like about going to a baseball game. Ok, that and the jeering.) But I was disappointed by the crowd's lack of gusto. It seemed half-hearted. I was ready for some proud yelling. AND, I didn't hear a single person do that Mexican laugh/cry thing "Aaaahhh-jai, jai, jaiiii!" and normally all it takes is a good song and a few shots of tequila. I thought of all the days in the year, I'd surely hear some good cries last night.
My in-laws tell me the national anthem has some 28 verses, and most people don't know them all. I'd like to hear them all some day, but I imaging that would try most people's patience. The anthem was played in part in the plaza last night, but sadly it was just a recording and again the crowd let me down, as not very many people joined in.
Otherwise, there was some pretty mediocre folk dancing, the crowning of this year's Queen of San Juan Cosalá, and a mariachi group. We actually have a really good folk dance group in town, but for some reason they didn't perform. The three "princesses" were paraded around in their big, poofy, colorful gowns, but they didn't even have to do anything interesting like answer tough questions about geography or about saving the children in Africa. And, as for the mariachi, they were pretty decent until they invited some high-pitched, off-tone, child to come sing with them. That's when we decided to head home.
So that was last night. Tonight, I hope, oh how I hope! we'll be back in the plaza for the greased pole tradition.
Someone on stage read off the names of Mexican heroes (Morelos, Hidalgo, Allende, etc.) and the crowd responded with "Viva!" and then came "Viva Jalisco" "Viva!" "Viva San Juan Cosalá" "Viva!" and then "Viva Mexico" "Viva! Viva! Viva!" I like the idea of everyone getting together and shouting things in unison. (Also why singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" with a crowd of strangers is the only part I like about going to a baseball game. Ok, that and the jeering.) But I was disappointed by the crowd's lack of gusto. It seemed half-hearted. I was ready for some proud yelling. AND, I didn't hear a single person do that Mexican laugh/cry thing "Aaaahhh-jai, jai, jaiiii!" and normally all it takes is a good song and a few shots of tequila. I thought of all the days in the year, I'd surely hear some good cries last night.
My in-laws tell me the national anthem has some 28 verses, and most people don't know them all. I'd like to hear them all some day, but I imaging that would try most people's patience. The anthem was played in part in the plaza last night, but sadly it was just a recording and again the crowd let me down, as not very many people joined in.
Otherwise, there was some pretty mediocre folk dancing, the crowning of this year's Queen of San Juan Cosalá, and a mariachi group. We actually have a really good folk dance group in town, but for some reason they didn't perform. The three "princesses" were paraded around in their big, poofy, colorful gowns, but they didn't even have to do anything interesting like answer tough questions about geography or about saving the children in Africa. And, as for the mariachi, they were pretty decent until they invited some high-pitched, off-tone, child to come sing with them. That's when we decided to head home.
So that was last night. Tonight, I hope, oh how I hope! we'll be back in the plaza for the greased pole tradition.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Soda Boppy
My in-laws drink Coke or Pepsi at every meal. They pretty much only drink soda, coffee, or beer. I'm the crazy one in the house who drinks water. Anyway, to each his own, I suppose. I drink Coke sometimes too (when it's mixed with rum, for example), and I certainly am no model of healthy eating (I'm pretty sure a bar of chocolate a day is not considered healthy eating), but what freaks me out is sometimes seeing toddlers around town with baby bottles filled with soda. If the child is too young to drink from a normal cup, I'm pretty sure they're too young to be drinking Coke. Obesity, diabetes, heart disease, tooth cavities anyone?
On the subject of health and soda, NY has a new ad campaign.
And I enjoyed reading this op-ed "Big Food vs. Big Insurance". While we've all a right to gluttony and poor choice making (and I enjoy regularly exercising this right), there's a lot not right about government subsidies making crap food so cheap. I like the angle this op-ed takes. Let's get the big fellas to take on the other big fellas.
Anyway, soda in baby bottles. Let's make an ad campaign against that.
On the subject of health and soda, NY has a new ad campaign.
And I enjoyed reading this op-ed "Big Food vs. Big Insurance". While we've all a right to gluttony and poor choice making (and I enjoy regularly exercising this right), there's a lot not right about government subsidies making crap food so cheap. I like the angle this op-ed takes. Let's get the big fellas to take on the other big fellas.
Anyway, soda in baby bottles. Let's make an ad campaign against that.
A Woman's Place
I realize I should follow a fellow blogger's example and start using a label "rants". We all know I do plenty of that.
So here's my rant of the evening.
Men and women can't be friends. This may not be true across Mexico (I'm not claiming any expertise, here), but it sure seems true in San Traditional Juan Podunk Cosalá. It's not that I'm trying to cruise for man friends in particular, but I've been down here a whole craptastic year and don't have a single friend to speak of, save my BFF the Internet. Men go out drinking together, they go to pool parties (apparently!) and to play billiards (the other pool party). Hernan invites his 16 year old brother, but not ONE STINKING TIME have I ever been invited. Not even when I make statements like "I'm lonely as all hell and bored out of my frickin mind and I'd really like some company tonight. You think I could come along?" ... Nope.
Granted, Hernan is in a hard place. He always invited me along in the States to go out with his buddies, and they accepted that, and understood that I should be offered beer because I'm, apparently, one of those crazy loose women who imbibes on occasion (and when isn't there an occasion?) But once we got down here to Macho Land Hernan had to start navigating new cultural waters and I got the plank.
And, too, if he were to invite me I'm pretty certain his buddies would be uncomfortable and the evening wouldn't be much fun. Even when they come by the house I might get a "Buenas tardes" but that's about it.
So men go out and DO stuff, and the women stay in their houses and tend to their children, or, in my case, my child and my puppy.
I should respect cultural differences and blah, blah, blah, but I think it's sexist and jacked and staying in the house all the time is boring.
Gah!
OK, end rant.
So here's my rant of the evening.
Men and women can't be friends. This may not be true across Mexico (I'm not claiming any expertise, here), but it sure seems true in San Traditional Juan Podunk Cosalá. It's not that I'm trying to cruise for man friends in particular, but I've been down here a whole craptastic year and don't have a single friend to speak of, save my BFF the Internet. Men go out drinking together, they go to pool parties (apparently!) and to play billiards (the other pool party). Hernan invites his 16 year old brother, but not ONE STINKING TIME have I ever been invited. Not even when I make statements like "I'm lonely as all hell and bored out of my frickin mind and I'd really like some company tonight. You think I could come along?" ... Nope.
Granted, Hernan is in a hard place. He always invited me along in the States to go out with his buddies, and they accepted that, and understood that I should be offered beer because I'm, apparently, one of those crazy loose women who imbibes on occasion (and when isn't there an occasion?) But once we got down here to Macho Land Hernan had to start navigating new cultural waters and I got the plank.
And, too, if he were to invite me I'm pretty certain his buddies would be uncomfortable and the evening wouldn't be much fun. Even when they come by the house I might get a "Buenas tardes" but that's about it.
So men go out and DO stuff, and the women stay in their houses and tend to their children, or, in my case, my child and my puppy.
I should respect cultural differences and blah, blah, blah, but I think it's sexist and jacked and staying in the house all the time is boring.
Gah!
OK, end rant.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
September 16th, 2008
Happy Mexican Independence Day! Last year we had just arrived in town when the festivities began. It was a pretty exciting weekend, so I looked up the mass email I'd sent out to remember all the fun that went down. Yes, before I discovered the joys of blogging I was in the habit of mass-harassment in e-mail form. Blogging feels so much less pushy.
So here is the email I sent out, more or less, a draft of it anyway. The numbers are footnotes, as I apparently found that amusing. :) I'm waiting to see whether this year turns out as exciting.
Oh, and don't you just love the rehash? It's like when a sitcom has an entire episode of flashbacks because apparently no one could come up with a novel storyline in time. Or maybe they were over-budget. So here you go: 2008 rehash!
It was an exciting weekend.
Contrary to US tradition, Mexicans celebrate Mexican Independence Day on the 16th of September instead of on Independence Day, which, as all Americans know, is either the fourth of July or the fifth of May (1). It's unclear why they do this. Anyway, on that particular day, it rained all day and we just stayed in the house with the fam and played cards. But, come the weekend, things got awfully exciting.
Saturday I spent the day in Guadalajara with my sister-in-law and her gringo boyfriend. That was not that exciting (2). We were buying merchandise for the little shop she runs out of the family's house. She sells things like hair products, baseball caps, underwear and children's toys. It was good to get out and see the city, though.
Things picked up after we got back. We went down to the plaza and there was a stage set up for performances. There was a mariachi band, folk dancing, and some local guy graced us with his interpretation of singing. Also, they crowned the 2008 queen of San Juan Cosalá – basically a local beauty pageant. Then we drank cantaritos (think tequila and squirt) and danced to a live band.
That was a lot of fun – but wait until I tell you about Sunday.
Sunday was the local bike race. Cool – one might think – everyone turns out to watch the cyclists race up and down the highway that runs through town (3), between the town to the west (Jocotepec) and the town to the east (Ajijic). Probably they close the highway so the cyclists can have room to compete. Ah, but wait! This is Mexico! Close the highway for a bike race?! Preposterous! Instead, let's do something different: let's get everyone out on the road with their pickup trucks. In the back of every pickup let's pile between 10 and 20 people. That's right, up to 20 people. Then let's drive up and down the highway following the cyclists. In addition, everyone who couldn't fit into the back of a pickup should come out onto the street or up onto their roof with buckets and hoses with which to douse all the people in the pickups. Also, let's get everyone to drink beer, including the pickup truck drivers. Yeah. Now that's a bike race!
So the bike race / town water fight was a lot of fun, and apparently the Independence Day tradition of San Juan Cosalá. I found myself in the back of our truck with only eleven other people. We got soaked the four or five times we drove through San Juan. But my co-riders had planned ahead, and we had our own ammunition: balloons filled with water. It's amazing we made it to even see the cyclists cross the finish line. I'm not sure who won. I'm not sure most people knew.
So then I crawled home like a drenched rat with my cousin Estela. I changed clothes and waited for Hernan to come back. At one point I saw him riding off to Jocotepec with the three queens of San Juan Cosalá and two of his buddies. Hm. Suspicious. When he finally came around again, we made off for the plaza.
We got there a little early and the festivities hadn't yet started up again. So we helped some of his buddies to dig a whole in the middle of the concrete parking lot. I mean, really, why not? This, it turns out, wasn't a random act of vandalism, but a part of another local tradition.
Every year, a group of people get together downtown and dig a hole somewhere. Fun enough on its own, but it gets better. Then they put a bunch of presents - kids toys, DVDs, clothes – into plastic bags and attach these bags to one end of a very long pole. Next, we grease the pole with lard. Obviously. Then, with the help of Random Drunk Dude On A Horse, we put the pole into the hole. Da-na! Now you're ready to watch a group of children struggle to climb 20 feet of greased pole to get the presents down! What could be more fun!? It makes American Independence Day barbecues and fireworks seem suddenly so lame.
So we stood around and shouted encouragement and ridicule at a group of children for two hours. Got to love it. This new generation, it seems, is not quite up to the tradition, because they managed to get only one present down. Finally, after two hours, it started to rain and Hernan decided it was time to step in and show the snot noses how it's done. Part way up the pole someone pulled his shorts down and the crowd got a full moon. That was pretty funny. He managed to both pull his shorts up and get all the way to the top. From the top of the greased pole he threw presents to the children, like a Mexican Santa, and then slid down that pole: more like a stripper than a fireman, and nothing like Santa would. Ah…! That's my man!
After showering off the lard at home, we returned once more to the plaza. Disappointed with the one-beat music that was playing in the town disco, we decided to go home early. But, to top off the weekend, three drunkards started shouting at us and following us home. And that's when we got into a street fight. By "we", of course, I mean Hernan. I just tried to stay out of the way. He was getting all three of them pretty good when about 20 people appeared out of nowhere and jumped in to break things up. The three dudes, plus one more that jumped in at the first sign of a fight, were all major assholes. Apparently they were looking for an easy fight and jumped us because they thought we were out-of-towners. Apparently they hadn't seen how Hernan has just become King of the Greased Pole and the town's favorite son. Moreover, it seems they're now the shame of the town for (1) having picked a fight with someone who's related to probably half the town, and (2) getting beat up pretty badly in a fight of three against one. One of the guys, it turns out, is even the son of a family friend, but didn't recognize Hernan in his drunken state. So we got home ok. A group of relatives and acquaintances who'd shown up suddenly out of nowhere took us home. Hernan only had a scratch on his hand and a scrape on one knee, so he's fine. Monday, we had a stream of visitors all day come by to ask how we were and to tell us that those assholes wouldn't be bothering us again. There's nothing like living in a town of 3000 for getting gossip fast.
So that was the weekend. Folk dancing, beauty pageant, bicycle race, water fight, a greased pole, and a street fight. I can't wait until next year.
Footnotes:
(1) I'd like to make it clear that I do, in fact, know that the fifth of May is *not* Mexican Independence Day. This is a joke. Please laugh.
(2) There was one exciting moment when said gringo boyfriend asked me who I was planning to vote for. So far, I've refrained from talking politics with him at all because I'm certain he's very conservative and I'm extremely liberal, and I haven't wanted to get into it with him because I know my sister-in-law doesn't want that to happen. It's clear she's uncomfortable with us arguing about politics. I told him I'd be happy to talk politics with him, but that we should leave my sister-in-law out of it, go somewhere where we can hash things out just the two of us, you know, somewhere where there'd be no witnesses.
(3) This highway that runs through town is the road that runs in front of the family's house and also the only paved road in town.
So here is the email I sent out, more or less, a draft of it anyway. The numbers are footnotes, as I apparently found that amusing. :) I'm waiting to see whether this year turns out as exciting.
Oh, and don't you just love the rehash? It's like when a sitcom has an entire episode of flashbacks because apparently no one could come up with a novel storyline in time. Or maybe they were over-budget. So here you go: 2008 rehash!
It was an exciting weekend.
Contrary to US tradition, Mexicans celebrate Mexican Independence Day on the 16th of September instead of on Independence Day, which, as all Americans know, is either the fourth of July or the fifth of May (1). It's unclear why they do this. Anyway, on that particular day, it rained all day and we just stayed in the house with the fam and played cards. But, come the weekend, things got awfully exciting.
Saturday I spent the day in Guadalajara with my sister-in-law and her gringo boyfriend. That was not that exciting (2). We were buying merchandise for the little shop she runs out of the family's house. She sells things like hair products, baseball caps, underwear and children's toys. It was good to get out and see the city, though.
Things picked up after we got back. We went down to the plaza and there was a stage set up for performances. There was a mariachi band, folk dancing, and some local guy graced us with his interpretation of singing. Also, they crowned the 2008 queen of San Juan Cosalá – basically a local beauty pageant. Then we drank cantaritos (think tequila and squirt) and danced to a live band.
That was a lot of fun – but wait until I tell you about Sunday.
Sunday was the local bike race. Cool – one might think – everyone turns out to watch the cyclists race up and down the highway that runs through town (3), between the town to the west (Jocotepec) and the town to the east (Ajijic). Probably they close the highway so the cyclists can have room to compete. Ah, but wait! This is Mexico! Close the highway for a bike race?! Preposterous! Instead, let's do something different: let's get everyone out on the road with their pickup trucks. In the back of every pickup let's pile between 10 and 20 people. That's right, up to 20 people. Then let's drive up and down the highway following the cyclists. In addition, everyone who couldn't fit into the back of a pickup should come out onto the street or up onto their roof with buckets and hoses with which to douse all the people in the pickups. Also, let's get everyone to drink beer, including the pickup truck drivers. Yeah. Now that's a bike race!
So the bike race / town water fight was a lot of fun, and apparently the Independence Day tradition of San Juan Cosalá. I found myself in the back of our truck with only eleven other people. We got soaked the four or five times we drove through San Juan. But my co-riders had planned ahead, and we had our own ammunition: balloons filled with water. It's amazing we made it to even see the cyclists cross the finish line. I'm not sure who won. I'm not sure most people knew.
So then I crawled home like a drenched rat with my cousin Estela. I changed clothes and waited for Hernan to come back. At one point I saw him riding off to Jocotepec with the three queens of San Juan Cosalá and two of his buddies. Hm. Suspicious. When he finally came around again, we made off for the plaza.
We got there a little early and the festivities hadn't yet started up again. So we helped some of his buddies to dig a whole in the middle of the concrete parking lot. I mean, really, why not? This, it turns out, wasn't a random act of vandalism, but a part of another local tradition.
Every year, a group of people get together downtown and dig a hole somewhere. Fun enough on its own, but it gets better. Then they put a bunch of presents - kids toys, DVDs, clothes – into plastic bags and attach these bags to one end of a very long pole. Next, we grease the pole with lard. Obviously. Then, with the help of Random Drunk Dude On A Horse, we put the pole into the hole. Da-na! Now you're ready to watch a group of children struggle to climb 20 feet of greased pole to get the presents down! What could be more fun!? It makes American Independence Day barbecues and fireworks seem suddenly so lame.
So we stood around and shouted encouragement and ridicule at a group of children for two hours. Got to love it. This new generation, it seems, is not quite up to the tradition, because they managed to get only one present down. Finally, after two hours, it started to rain and Hernan decided it was time to step in and show the snot noses how it's done. Part way up the pole someone pulled his shorts down and the crowd got a full moon. That was pretty funny. He managed to both pull his shorts up and get all the way to the top. From the top of the greased pole he threw presents to the children, like a Mexican Santa, and then slid down that pole: more like a stripper than a fireman, and nothing like Santa would. Ah…! That's my man!
After showering off the lard at home, we returned once more to the plaza. Disappointed with the one-beat music that was playing in the town disco, we decided to go home early. But, to top off the weekend, three drunkards started shouting at us and following us home. And that's when we got into a street fight. By "we", of course, I mean Hernan. I just tried to stay out of the way. He was getting all three of them pretty good when about 20 people appeared out of nowhere and jumped in to break things up. The three dudes, plus one more that jumped in at the first sign of a fight, were all major assholes. Apparently they were looking for an easy fight and jumped us because they thought we were out-of-towners. Apparently they hadn't seen how Hernan has just become King of the Greased Pole and the town's favorite son. Moreover, it seems they're now the shame of the town for (1) having picked a fight with someone who's related to probably half the town, and (2) getting beat up pretty badly in a fight of three against one. One of the guys, it turns out, is even the son of a family friend, but didn't recognize Hernan in his drunken state. So we got home ok. A group of relatives and acquaintances who'd shown up suddenly out of nowhere took us home. Hernan only had a scratch on his hand and a scrape on one knee, so he's fine. Monday, we had a stream of visitors all day come by to ask how we were and to tell us that those assholes wouldn't be bothering us again. There's nothing like living in a town of 3000 for getting gossip fast.
So that was the weekend. Folk dancing, beauty pageant, bicycle race, water fight, a greased pole, and a street fight. I can't wait until next year.
Footnotes:
(1) I'd like to make it clear that I do, in fact, know that the fifth of May is *not* Mexican Independence Day. This is a joke. Please laugh.
(2) There was one exciting moment when said gringo boyfriend asked me who I was planning to vote for. So far, I've refrained from talking politics with him at all because I'm certain he's very conservative and I'm extremely liberal, and I haven't wanted to get into it with him because I know my sister-in-law doesn't want that to happen. It's clear she's uncomfortable with us arguing about politics. I told him I'd be happy to talk politics with him, but that we should leave my sister-in-law out of it, go somewhere where we can hash things out just the two of us, you know, somewhere where there'd be no witnesses.
(3) This highway that runs through town is the road that runs in front of the family's house and also the only paved road in town.
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