Startin' Up!

Okay, the way I see it, if Connie can do a blog it can't be that hard, can it?

My second wonderful day in Mexico. Stayed the first night in a hostel which was quite nice until this morning when the hostess was nowhere to be found and the inner Mark was feeling hungry and lost. But my survival skills kicked in as I found the maid in the kitchen and speaking gibberish I pointed to the coffee maker and managed get a cold cup of coffee. I thought this kind of pointing was a pretty good technique so later I handed her the phone saying "taxi" and she looked through a whole bunch of cards and called me a cab. In danger of becoming a one-trick pony, I pointed to the address on my computer printout and the cab driver knew exactly where to go. When I handed him a twenty he gave back this multi-colored currency with holograms on it. I expected it to break out into a pre-recorded mariachi round at any moment.

Jim and Therese, my landlords here, are fantastic people. Therese met me at the door and showed me around with no hurrying. The apartment is beautiful and would probably cost a couple thousand (dollars, not holographic pesos) in Vancouver. There are two private balconies and I can even pick up wifi from a neighbour if I squeeze into a corner in exactly the right spot and the wifi devas tap me on the shoulder. Ergo this blog!



Jim joined us on the upper balcony as we enjoyed the fantastic view. We continued to talk and I was a little off center as I'm not used to people wanting to talk to me! (except very tolerant friends and family of course) He and Therese built this house for themselves years ago after living nearby and accidentally finding out the property was for sale. They designed the entire house and worked on it over a number of years. Not like the students in school who never finish their assignments, but like artists who want to get it just right.

I'm pretty much playing the role of the clueless gringo, wandering around with a bemused look and tripping over steps that appear out of nowhere. For some reason whenever I walk by the locals shouts of laughter break out the moment I pass line of sight. It's all in good fun. But of course when you're a clueless gringo, what's the best thing to do but find another clueless gringo which was easily done because all I had to do was notice someone reading a map. My new acquaintance told me about the town tour on Wednesday and after much ado we found the town library which he said is the cultural center for ex-pats. It was worth the walk as there was a beautiful cafe there and I had the first good cup of coffee since I left Winnipeg.


They don't understand the concept of coffee in Mexico. There is no such thing as coffee creme. So the first Mexican word I learned was "leche" for milk. This is the word you use when you don't feel like a Corona, which is a universal word that everyone knows.

I spent much of the afternoon trying to find a cell phone store. For some reason everyone knew where they were except me! Finally I gave up and decided to ride the bus to see where it went. I was a little confused because as I tried to pay the bus driver at the door he just waved me by. I watched other people get on and it seemed no one was paying. At this point I was thinking, Mexico is looking pretty good, but this guy must be independently wealthy. Then a couple of guys with clown makeup got on and shouted at each other across the bus then asked for money. I declined because I was still afraid of touching my pesos (the mariachi thing).

The bus wandered through many back streets and into a suburb and I pictured my four-year-old nephew Ben standing on the seat pointing eagerly to each horse or bus and shouting (while not ignoring the cute little Mexican girls). After a long time the bus stopped and the driver seemed angry to see me still sitting there. So I paid him and said I wanted to go back. He pointed to a bus across the street and shooed me away. The bus across the street turned out to be the hip-hop bus, with two twenty-somethings dancing to a thumping bass as they washed the windows and kicked the tires. When they started up the engine they turned the volume down, then with a grin cranked up the volume to 99.97% of the original volume. As we drove along the route, old men and women got on and seemed to walk down the aisle with a little more rhythm than in Vancouver. One man with a cane slipped a little bit but managed to do an amazing breakdance-style recovery all in synch with the beat. Ray Charles would have been proud.

Then one of the hip-hop guys stood behind me and said something in Spanish. I said, I don't understand, and he said, "I want your money". If this was Toronto my life would have flashed before my eyes (I think it did anyways)! But he was pointing to a ticket that he'd given me earlier and I gave him four pesos, or about forty cents. At this point I realized the Mexican system for riding buses which is to simply wait until someone gets mad at you and then you pay them.

When I got back downtown the sun had just set and I was hungry so I decided to look for a restaurant. It turns out that this was the secret of finding a cell phone store, because there were no open restaurants to be found but there were cell phone stores everywhere. I picked the one with the cutest counter girl who also spoke English and bought a new Mexican Motorola phone for $29US. I guess I must have asked one too many questions though because the sales girl pressed a key and held the phone to my ear. It must have been the "shut up the gringo key" as it was all in rapid Spanish which was even harder to understand than Alan's thick Scottish brogue when he talks fast after a beer.

I was off the hook in a minute though because then she screamed and pointed and said something excitedly to a co-worker, also a young girl. I started to tease her and said, is that your boyfriend, I hope your boyfriend comes back and says something nice to you, etc. Some people might think I had ulterior motives but all I was hoping was that if I made her laugh enough she would stick her hand under the counter and add another 100 minutes to the deal. The cell phone concept here is like the printer concept in Canada where they sell you a printer cheap and then charge a ransom for the ink. Cell phone minutes in Mexico are little handfuls of gold dust.

If you've read this far, you win the prize, you get to guess which part of this blog is made up. Only one part!

Gonna enjoy sleeping in my beautiful apartment tonight.