Nine is the Magic Number

If you don’t live with eight other people, you should. I think any number lower than that is just not enough. With nine people, someone is always around. It is nearly impossible to get tired of anyone because there are so many different schedules and regular rotation is unavoidable. And because you are constantly entertained.

With nine you don’t know what to expect. La Sra. Franco is the grandmother we have all had. She refers to me as “mi hijo” (my child), and is as sweet as any little old lady. If I arrive at a decent hour, she is always the first person I interact with and it is lovely.

Magic. In five weeks, I have gotten to know all eight of my roommates also as family. Even Manuel, the 60 year old man, and I have discussed such things as the tendencies of Americans to live life excessively, his smoking habit, and we exchanged other insights.

The house is full of life, color, and personality. I urge you all to look into group housing situations. Especially with people you have never met. You will learn more about life, love, yourself, and others. I know myself better than ever.

Now, before I tell my story about the second free Absolut vodka event, I need to clear the air. Many of you have got the wrong impression about my experience here. While the social life is alive and well, it does not dominate my time. Work does. Learning does. I chose to write about my cultural observations and fiestas because, generally for you, that is more interesting. But I will say a little something about work at the end of this one. Last thing, the social scene does not center on drinking either, though the photos may disclose differently. Believe it or not, I am partying less than I ever have. So now…Absolut.

Fobia. Morgane, la Francesa, if you can recall, works for a marketing firm which represents Absolut. They had another completely free open bar event, and this time they featured the musical stylizings of the Mexican rock band, Fobia. They are very famous and teetering on old age, but not quite Mick Jagger-style. It was great. Live music is always good for the soul.

Coffee. Why is it that no boss, no matter how smart or capable, knows how to work the coffee maker in the office? Monica and I are usually the only people at the office, doing the most important jobs, every morning before 7am. However, when we have clients coming at 8:00am, things are very different. Julio Madrazo, one of the three partners, came storming in at 7:30am breaking me out of my Zen-like semi-conscious focused state. He went straight for the kitchen and appeared moments later a little more frazzled with a desperate look on his face.

The machine is simple. You put in the coffee and turn it on. Of course, I have no idea how to do that either because Margarita always makes and brings me my coffee. Ha.

Tacos. I bet you didn’t know that the vast majority of the time tacos are made by men. All street tacos and even those in restaurants are created and seasoned by men. You have to find a very rare and uncommon place to see a woman doing the cooking.

I have to find one. One of my boss’ told me that there was the very special place where a woman did the taco preparing that was only open on Saturday and Sunday until the tacos were gone. This could be only a few hours. This weekend, I will find this place.

Personal Space: the Closer Talkers. Mexicans have a very different perspective on what constitutes personal space. Example, whenever Jorge, one of the consultants, talks to be me, he talks to me in very close proximity. His arm is usually touching mine and I can always tell if he had the Hazelnut or the French vanilla coffee that morning. I usually inch away because the coffee odor and closeness make me uncomfortable. Of course, he follows. After a conversation of about 2 minutes, we are already ¾ the way across the office. I don’t think he notices. But this is a cultural aspect that I didn’t realize was hard for me. I don’t like people to get all up in my grill when talking with me. I like my space. Keep your distance.

Work. If you aren’t convinced that Mexicans actually work hard, then maybe this will help. I get to work every morning before 7am. Monica arrives at 6am, Alejandra before 8am and she stays till 9ish, etc.

I have turned into the dreaded “grandpa.” I have a schedule. I like my schedule. I am in bed before primetime TV is over (we don’t actually have a TV). I have my Lucky Charms (or substitute Honey Nut Cheerios) with cut up banana and a glass of OJ for breakfast. I put my leftovers from last night’s dinner in Tupperware. I rock out to my ipod as I walk to the Metro and run down the stairs and up them again. Margarita brings me my coffee at 8:30am. I finish up at the office, walk to the grocery store to pick up any last minute necessities for tonight’s dinner, rock out to my ipod on the Metro and sprint up and down the stairs. I cook dinner and converse with my roommates, watch an episode of Sex in the City with Laura and Morgane, read a chapter, then hit the hay. What has become of me? Old Kip would never have done this. New Kip has matured to an adult.

The work itself. Is generally fascinating. We have about two dozen clients ranging from railroad companies to the Mexican government to a variety of other large businesses. They are about 70% Mexican, but the other 30% are American. I don’t know how much information I am allowed to or should divulge, especially in such a public forum. So, if would rather wait to tell you about it in person. But I will say, I do translations from Spanish into English of newspaper articles, legal documents, etc., I research in a number of data bases both American and Mexican, and write reports, make proposals, and create power point presentations for meetings with our clients. Right now, I am researching Mexican gambling laws, the legality of certain types of betting machines, and a lawsuit brought on by a Canadian gambling machine producer against the Mexican government in the spirit of NAFTA. Las cosas son muy interestantes.

Nine is just fine. In only a few days, I will be headed back to the States, in fact, on Monday, so feel free to give me a call. I leave again on Thursday, December 22nd to return again on December 30th only to leave again on January 4th. My cell phone number is the same, and I would love to hear from you. Of course, in total, I’ll be in the states for nine days. Nine is my sign.

One love.