Seis Cuentos

Buenas tardes,

Before I departed the US, a friend said, "you will have five stories within 24 hours of landing." I smiled and responded, "God, I hope not." Well, she was wrong, I have at least six.

1. Although I am a world traveler and mountaineering extraordinaire, I was quite nervous and anxious about arriving in Mexico with no concrete plans. Since there was nothing much I could do, I marched on. As one would imagine, Customs and Immigration was a breeze. The immigration official said coarsely, "what are you doing in my country?" to which I snapped back, "to rape and pillage of course!" He nodded, smiled, and stamped my passport.

2. I had to call Paco and Ismael to make sure someone was at their apartment in the ghetto so I wouldn't have to wait around outside indefinitely with all my bags at midnight on Saturday. Of course, Mexican phones don't take change, so this presented the second hurtle. The phone card machine wasn't working, of course, and I was at a loss for what to do. When all of a sudden, a facially scared and otherwise terrifying Mexican handed me a phone card with just enough left to call Paco. Paco was at a bar with a girl but assured me that Ismael was home. Yikes. After an uneventful cab ride, other than dodging cars going faster than Nascar, I arrived intact in the ghetto. And to my relief Ismael was home.

3. Ismael thought it would be a good idea to take me for a drink, seeing that I had been in Mexico for an hour and it was Saturday night. Thus, we began an epic journey that I will spare you the details of except that it was about 20 miles of walking and busing. The bar was a little odd, and though I couldn´t initially put my finger on it, I figured out exactly why it was strange when Rodrigo put his arm around me and started blowing air in my ear. This was in fact a gay bar. On second thought, this was obvious because there were no women and the dance floor was packed. Thanks Ismael. He got a laugh and we quickly departed. I must admit that there was a two for one special and part of me wanted to stay.

4. My saviors. One of my dad´s life long friends, Miguel Basanez and his son, Nicholas, picked me up on Sunday to go apartment hunting. They treated me to a delicious lunch of tacos al pastor "gringa" and a sumptuous dinner. Their help, car, knowledge, food, and Spanish all proved to be life-saving. However, at the moment, I am still apartment-less, living in the ghetto on Paco's couch, and taking cabs to work. Miguel took me to seven different apartments. Of course, an individual apartment in a nice area is out of my price range, so we saw shared apartments. One with an old and smelly man whose place was filled, FILLED with old magazines, a crazy and half-dressed old lady, and an assortment of other circus-like folk. In short, I am still looking. It is going to be harder than expected.

5. I once thought that there is nothing scarier than an old lady in South Florida slouched behind a giant, boat of a Cadillac on the highway in the left lane with her turn signal on. Then I traveled to Southeast Asia and was proved wrong. But nothing compares to driving in Mexico City. As my cab sped to my office, the driver turned around to converse with me all the while swerving through near-death collisions. I can't imagine my face showed any _expression other than pure horror.

6. Work. I spent the morning, desk-less sitting in Francisco's office reading Mexican newspaper after Mexican newspaper. Did you know that Mexico is the only city in the world with more AM radio stations than FM? Did you know that Google has just set up an account in Mexico? I sure didn´t. After a few memoranda translations to their big important clients, I took a deep breath, hoped I didn´t screw them up too much, and started crafting this email. For a first day, I can´t imagine a much more stressful environment. I haven't spoken English all day, and if not for my writing, I would probably forgot how. My first duty everyday is to read ALL of the Mexican newspapers and write a summary in English to post on their website for their clients. Oy. Será más difícil que creé.

Work is stressful and extremely overwhelming, especially in Spanish. Why didn't anyone tell me that work sucked? Friday can't come soon enough. And as a wise man in the movie, The Three Amigos, tells us, "tequila...hmmm...it´s like beer." When in Rome.....