The Silly, the Serious, and the Cure for it all

Bald. Why aren’t more Mexicans bald? They all seem to have hair. I don’t get it. It’s not fair. Is it the pollution? Their diet of tacos, grease, and cheese? Could it be the lack of exercise? If it is any or all of these things, sign me up!

I mean, I feel like one spin through Wall Street and you’ll see thousands of Rogaine devouring egotists. In Mexico, they almost all have full heads of hair and have no concerns in the world.

Greeks. Now, don’t try and use this “hairy” Latin argument on me. Greek men go bald just as often, if not more often, than most other men. So, why don’t Mexicans lose their hair? I think we should put Oprah on it.

The Finger. No, no, not that one! You should be ashamed of yourself for thinking that. In Mexico, the index finger is used to signal many things. You know the old index finger work out? The one when you point your finger up, then out, then up again. Well, people use that extending and retracting of the index finger to signal agreement. Sort of like, saying,”yes, yes,” quickly with your finger. Or “red rum.” This is done when they are eating or just while they nod in agreement. It’s actually pretty addictive, and I can honestly say that I dig it. I like it best when chicks do it though. Go figure.

The Mexican Meeting. Besides the metro, I think Mexican business meetings explain their culture best. Although I am not really allowed speak in gatherings with clients, I get to sit, observe, nod, and move my index finger on occasion. What is most fascinating about the meetings is their informality. Mexico is a traditionally, formal culture. People dress up to do everything, shoes are shined at all times, and no one wears sneakers around. However, their methods for doing business are anything but the anal, Western way. In the U.S. and in Western Europe meetings last an hour, one hour, no more. Everyone sits up straight, addresses clients formally, and are generally polite.

In Mexico, the key consultant in charge of a client matter may stand up mid-sentence, answer his cell phone, and walk directly out of the meeting. I have been left all alone in situations like this. The index finger doesn’t cut it. I try to smile supportively, but usually end up resorting to describing my living situation and the last night club I went to. They usually eat up the club stories. As I stumble over my words trying to sound smart and important, I hear my boss chatting with his kid about math homework.

Meetings last from two to five hours. I have sat through both. There is constant cell phone activity both by the consultants and the clients. People write text messages while we do our Power Point Presentation and phones are answered whenever they ring. Sometimes the one talking gets up to leave the conference room, other times not. Casual conversations usually break up the business being discussed, and people take off their jackets, lean back in chairs, and stand and roam when they so desire.

Their way of business is a little hard to get adjusted and accustomed to; however, once you know what to expect, you don’t know what business used to be like. I usually lean back, sometimes take off my shoes, and certainly exit whenever I have an inclination to check my email.

Mezcal. After such a meeting, I usually accompany Jorge to a Cantina for a little conversation, a little pool, and a few sips of mezcal. Technically speaking it could be said that tequila is a form of mezcal, but it can not be said that mezcal is a form of tequila. Sort of like a square is a rectangle but a rectangle isn’t necessarily a square. Anyways, there are specific differences between the beverages, mainly the methods of production and the agave (part of cactus) varieties that they are made from. Mezcal is 100% artisan and 100% agave, while tequila is part artisan and part industrial and is not 100% made from agave.

Unlike tequila, some mezcal brands have a worm inside their bottles. Prehistoric culture believed that the worm had aphrodisiac powers. The worm lives inside the agave plant and it can be of two types: white or red depending of the place of the plant from which is obtained. The worm is actually a source of protein, with some vitamins and minerals, and it will not kill you.

Climb to safety. Many of you read my retelling of the U2 concert. The next day I received an email from a dear friend. She wrote,

“Last night, I went to dinner with some friends. Michelle said her boyfriend was in Mexico City for the U2 concert. Due to the fact that it is soooo dangerous "down there," he obviously had a body guard....that had a taser gun. I mentioned that I found that more than a little excessive because you actually live there and are not chauffeured around by a taser toting, large man. She responded with, ‘well, he needs to get a clue.’”

I burst out laughing in my office. This of course drew unwanted attention, and I had to explain to my Mexican co-workers that rich Americans are silly. They all emphatically gave me the finger…the index one.

My friend offered to send down a taser gun just in case I needed it. This got me thinking, I have not really written much about the security issues here in Mexico City.

Kidnappings. Mexico is the second only to Colombia with the most kidnappings annually, worldwide. It has consistently been second since 1996. In 2003, there were more than 3,000 reported kidnappings which is roughly one every three hours. That is a frightening statistic. The most common way for a kidnapping to take place is in a taxi.

There are three types of taxis here: green and white VW bugs, red and white Nissan Sentras, and unmarked radio taxis. The cost grows from the former to the latter, the radio taxis costing twice as much at the green and white ones. When I arrived, I swore that I would pay the extra cost and always radio a taxi. That lasted two days. Now, I specifically look for the green and white taxis.

I set out another rule for myself; I will only take the green taxis with the old, harmless looking drivers. That lasted a few weeks. Now I take whatever, whenever.

Robbing and Assault. One day I was chatting with Jorge, a co-worker, and I noticed that he didn’t have on a wedding ring. He explained that he had been held up in his car a few years ago and never replaced his wedding ring. I was shocked. I mean, stealing a wedding ring, it’s like an ex-girlfriend taking the ice cube trays out of the freezer when she moves out. Who takes the ice cube trays? It’s ridiculous. A few weeks later, I noticed that Francisco also didn’t wear a ring. He had been assaulted near the office. Apparently almost everyone in my office has been robbed at one time or another over the last eight years. It is sort of an inevitability. As a precaution, I never carry my credit card, debit card, much cash, license, or anything of much importance.

Safe. I feel safe. I don’t just feel safe because I am accustomed to my surroundings, I don’t just feel safe because I don’t want my mom to worry, and I certainly don’t just feel safe because Mexico is a secure city. It isn’t. I feel safe because I am not someone you want to approach. I am a man, I am proportionally large, and I am in my twenties. This will generally not involve a quick and easy robbery. Plus, I am not likely to have much money, and I don’t. Furthermore, the most dangerous areas are north and east of the city. These places are far worse than what you saw in “City of God.” I don’t know any local that would ever venture there, or even drive near them.

Sure I ride the metro after midnight, I take green and white cabs by myself, but I stay away from the bad neighborhoods, I keep a good head on my shoulders, and I keep a low profile (except for the dancing around to my ipod, but I think that actually makes people think I am crazy vis-à-vis the odd looks I get everyday). In conclusion, no worries, you don’t need to send me a taser gun.

Mexicanization. What a wonderfully interesting country. My uncles Don and David were down last week visiting (see pictures). We had a fabulous time. But they did not fall in love with the city. In fact, the traffic gave them headaches, the pollution made them green in the face, and the food made them ill.

To me, these things are part of its charm. In order to deal with them, you have to become Mexican. Otherwise, you will stress about being on time as you sit in an hour of traffic to go a half mile, you will curse the pollution and your sore throat, you’ll walk around in fear clutching your wallet, and you’ll loathe Montezuma. The cure for all of this is not Mezcal as many of you would like to believe, it is acceptance. I walk out everyday knowing that nothing will go as planned, everyone will be late, my throat will hurt, I’ll eat tacos, I may have to bribe a cop, and I might get robbed. I just say, “hey, I am in Mexico.”

Revolution

A revolution is defined as, “..a sudden or momentous change in a situation. A drastic and far-reaching change in ways of thinking and behaving…”

I was sitting in the most gorgeous apartment in Condesa (Trendy Greenwich Village type neighborhood) pondering life’s greater questions when I took a closer look my glass of Mezcal. It said,

Here’s to the CRAZY ONES.
the MISFITS. The REBELS.
the TROUBLE-MAKERS.
the ones who
SEE THINGS DIFFERENTLY.
you can QUOTE them,
DISAGREE with them,
GLORIFY, or VILIFY them
but the only thing you CAN’T do is
IGNORE them…
because the people who are
CRAZY enough to think
they can CHANGE THE WORLD
are the ONES DO.
-unknown

Now, I admit that it is one of those cliché sayings that appears on the side of glasses that you see in tourist shops. However, this was different. It spoke to me in a unique way. I will change the world. And you can quote me on it. I am not a socialist, or a communist, or a Democrat, or a Republican. I am a citizen of the world. I, we, have an obligation to open the eyes of the privileged. Of all people. That means all of you reading this have the obligation and you are also the ones who need to open your eyes.

Polarization. There is a certain apathy in America. It is growing. It is one of frustration and indifference. We feel that our opinions and needs are not being addressed, but we feel helpless and handcuffed by the current administration. Our leaders are apathetic to global issues. Nothing much can change, so why bother trying? It is precisely this type of thinking that plagues most of the world.

Here in Mexico things are not much different. There is an essentially three-way presidential race going on right now. No candidate has more than 35% of the vote, and most people are disillusioned by their choices. The one common theme that is strung through all people’s minds is that no matter who they select to run their country, nothing much will change. Institutions are too well-established, globalization, and global business are so entrenched that no policy will transform society very much. They are wrong.

We are standing on the edge of a fundamental shift in the world. This polarization is no longer about politics, about winning and losing, it was affecting the world in an extremely negative way.

Charisma. We need a leader to stand up and say, “follow me.” Teddy Roosevelt referred to the presidency as a bully pulpit. We need someone to use it as such and in an effective way to press the difficult and important issues. The president needs to inspire the people, rouse their support, and direct policy. The president should tell the people what the important issues are and then create substantial policy that fulfills his propositions. An elected official has the trust of the people. That official has a responsibility to do what is best for all people. Sometimes the voter is short sighted, many times the politician thinks in the short-term. Only do enough to get elected again. But we need someone who makes the hard decisions, someone who can see the future and structures the Marshall Plan with the foresight that Europe needs to be rebuilt so that the world can move forward. We need another Alliance for Progress Campaign; we need to focus on Africa.

The Anti-Domino Effect. The Domino Effect was a theory that postulated that if one country falls to Communism, others will follow, and soon all the nations of the world will tumble down like a row of dominos. The Anti-Domino Effect says that if you bring one nation up, increase its GDP per capita, the standard of living, health, and education, that others will also rise up as a result.

We need a president who sees that every foreign policy is interrelated. Investing in Latin America is just like investing in the U.S. When your neighbor builds another room on his house, your property value goes up. When your neighborhood becomes safer, you become safer and your property value goes up. By the same token, if your neighbor’s house is robbed, you live in fear.

The same is true of the Western Hemisphere. The more we invest in Mexico, Central, and South America, the better off we will be. By bringing the standard of living up all over the world, we bring ours up too. So if you are not the idealistic, philanthropic type of person, supporting foreign policy with long-term goals helps you out in a selfish way just as much as it does for others. You can not just ignore one part of the world and focus on another. We should be working towards a World Community.

Border solutions. “The only way to stop illegal migration is to reduce the income gap between the U.S. and Mexico. Mexicans do not seek jobs in America, they seek higher paying jobs. Surveys suggest that 90% of migrants leave jobs in Mexico and come north to increase their earnings by eight times, on average.

As the EU formed, nations didn’t put up fences along their borders. They flung the doors wide open. They invested great sums of money in their poorest countries and in just 15 years significantly reduced the income gap. Migration nearly stopped. Although the EU is tremendously different from North America, it would be foolish not to learn the lessons of their five decades of experience. Their investments in infrastructure had a multiplier effect.
The Proposal. This was put forth by one of the foremost scholars on Latin America and one of the smartest people I know. The idea is create a “North American Investment Fund” to boost Mexico’s growth and close the income gap. It will take $20 billion a year for a decade to close the gap by 20%. To put it in perspective, Europe invested twice as much for twice as long. Mexico should provide half the funds with new taxes; the U.S. 40%; and Canada, 10%. The funds would be administered by the World Bank and be invested in infrastructure.

Prospects. The outlook for approving such a proposal right now are negligible, most would say zero. The question is not whether this is feasible, but where it is desirable and will serve the U.S. and North American interests. For too long, we have been reacting to crises rather than investing in our future.” Too long we have ignored how to impact the future. This proposal addresses fundamental American concerns: immigration, border security, energy, and economic integration.

Cliché. Can you not look 40 years down the line? Can you not see what needs to be done? We need to change the level and substance of the debate in the U.S. We are looking at the little picture, we are bickering over issues that by themselves change very little, we need to open our eyes. Building a fence will never stop immigration. That is an inside the box, small picture resolution. By looking at the macro-level we can see the impact of a “North American Investment Fund” twenty years down the road. If we look at the micro, we see very little change from year to year. Let’s have a little foresight and a little vision.

*Note: The section in quotes was paraphrased and quoted from a working paper. It may not be used or distributed without express written consent from its author. If you would like more information or use of these materials, please write me directly. Thank you.

Me and U2

Have you ever wondered what it would be like in another world? I mean, wake up in an alternate universe. A dream world. Something so surreal that it can be nothing other than a bizarre dream. That was what Estadio Azteca was like. Tickets for the first of two performances in Mexico City had sold out within hours of going on sale back in November. That night, touts were asking for as much as $1,000 dollars pesos per ticket.

THE MORNING NEWS. As y’all know, I monitor the news everyday and the day of the concert was no different. At 8am, there was a report from the stadium, people were already in line to get in for the concert. Holy canole! Twelve hours before it began! I was at work but realized the magnitude of a line of over 100,000 people beginning at 8am. I had general admission tickets for the heart of the soccer field. But I didn’t leave for Azteca until 3pm.

ESTADIO AZTECA. It is far south. The metro network doesn’t even extend that far. We took the metro to another train and then arrived at the 114,600 seat capacity stadium. It is one of the biggest in the world. It teeters at 7,200 ft. above sea level and is packed full of enough magic moments to make even the most level-headed fans wobbly with delight. It is a supernatural place. The dizzying altitude, suffocating smog, and relentless pressure of the fans that flocked to the Azteca made it damn near impossible to get my bearings and feel grounded. I was left in the clouds.

SECURING SECURITY. U2 hadn’t been to Mexico City since 1997 because they had a security breach and were wary of returning. If you have been living in a bubble since you were born, perhaps you need an explanation. The Mexican Police wear all black, have bullet-proof vests that say POLICIA, carry submachine guns, and are just as corrupt as they are scary looking. I generally feel less safe when they are around. The incident from ’97 occurred between a politician’s son’s body guards and the U2 band security. Apparently the body guards weren’t friendly either. Thousands of troops were there decked out in their gear. They were ready and willing of another confrontation.

GENERAL ADMISSION. We needed to get there early to guarantee a good view. We arrived at the stadium at 4pm. I was very impressed by the efficiency of our commute. Four hours early. But it was not enough. After various security checks, walking around the stadium twice to be let in, we walked down the tunnel. I love walked out of the darkness to the light of the field. Great feeling. Inside the venue, a spate of immense "waves" by the mobs and taunting between the upper and lowers sections of the crowd filled the impatient wait between the performance of the Secret Machines the appearance of the idols from Ireland. This was Mexico. The atmosphere was like a World Cup final: tense, anticipatory, and unpredictable.

CHANTING. Me-ji-co! Me-ji-co! Me-jico! The lights cut out and everyone went crazy absolutely nuts. I mean nuts. You see riots from Latin America online, you see frenzies, but nothing explains the ferocity with which all 100,000 people jumped and yelled.

LUCKY. As I have said, we were on the floor general admission section and packed in like sardines, or appropriately, Mexicans in a pickup truck. I was concerned that my sight would be obstructed by taller individuals. However, I was in Mexico so my 5’ 8” frame gave me a proper vantage point over the thousands in front of me. I love Mexico.

After a few new songs and old classics, Bono snatched up an acoustic guitar and began strumming. It was the beginning of Norwegian Wood! I went Mexican. I mean, totally nuts. Dancing, jumping, singing, throwing elbows, the usual. Apparently Mexicans are not the avid Beatles fans that I am. No one got it. And after my flaying arms ceased, I was thought to be a drunk, even though I was completely sober (seriously). The advantage of being thought crazy is that everyone gives you a bit more space. I recommend at least a few spontaneous dance moves at any general admission concert in the future, if you are feeling a little claustrophobic.

One of the greatest shows I have ever been to. The display and lights were the most incredible examples of the progress of technology that I have seen. Their design was mesmerizing. But I tried to keep my eyes on Bono and the Edge as they strolled yards from us. Bono’s message was convincing, well present, and right on. Love. Love each other, love God, one love.

THE DEPARTURE. As Bob Marley says, “Exodus, movement of Jah People.” Similar to the entrance, this had anything but American efficiency. We were squished, smushed, prodded, smashed, and pushed. Cattle get it better than this. Eventually, we found ourselves in the first train. Unable to turn my head or move my limbs, I took a nap on someone’s shoulder as I reflected on my night. At the metro station, we discovered that it was no longer running at midnight. Me cagó! Bad news. Way south of home and with tens of thousands looking for cabs. It took a bit of walking but we finally tracked down a taxi and I hit the hay at 2am.

THE MORNING AFTER- The Best Way to Get Up in the Morning. Sleeping for less than 4 hours never has beautifying effects on me, and this was no different. I woke up to flash backs to the Tamale guy and sat up quickly. Had I hit snooze? Where was I? Oh, its still pitch black outside, so I should be about on time. I got up feeling a little fuzzy and overwhelmed from the prior nights festivities. I took one big step, into the side of my bed. Cursing quickly followed as the blood started to flow from my toe. Massive amounts of blood before 6am is like a nightmare. I nearly passed out. Could I call in sick? Nope. I patched myself up and hobbled off for work. I am down to nine toes. But as we all know, nine is the magic number.

Happy weekends. ONE LOVE.

*****Me, Dad, and Jorge at Lunch

Pure Silliness Worlds Away

Do you know what is silly? American Idol. Do you know what is even sillier? American Idol on the TVs above the treadmills at the gym. They broadcast it on mute with subtitles (in Spanish) of the commentary. They don’t even tell you what song the people are singing. What has the world come to when watching American Idol on mute is exciting? It was on every single one of the TVs for crying out loud! What’s wrong with these people?

Shoe Shines. For a buck you can get a first rate shoe shine. By simply walking around or sitting at any café or restaurant, you will be asked if you want one. Until recently I thought it was because shining shoes was a good hustle. I now know that shiny shoes are a corner stone of pride and a key to being accepted into the society. I have received mean looks. I mean, mean looks for having less than an adequate polish. I will never make the same mistake again. Shine ‘em up baby!

The tamale guy. This guy is going to get beat up one day. By me. Although he provides fresh, hot, delicious tamales, his tamale cart produces the most high-pitched and annoying noise. On Saturday and Sunday mornings, before 9am, he rolls his cart through my neighborhood. The cart boils water to keep the tamales warm and make more. The steam is suppressed within the cart until it reaches its boiling point. Once it is full of steam, it releases the steam through a whistle, like a coffee pot. However, unlike a coffee pot, the cart is huge and the whistle is piercing. I can usually hear it for 2 hours on Saturday morning. My less than adequate blinds let enough light in to my room and wake me up early, but I can usually roll over and go back to bed. Mr. Tamale makes sure that I am miserable. He usually gets me out of bed cursing him and throwing on clothes to quickly chase him down for a snack. It is a love/hate relationship.

Impenetrable houses. In the very nice neighborhoods, Polanco, Lomas, Santa Fe, San Angel, and Pedegral, the houses are built behind twenty foot walls usually topped off with barbed wire or broke glass. They are fortresses. Upon entering these fortresses, you get to view these mansions in their entirety. But they neighborhoods look like something out of an idealized Cold War. How much protection do you need? And, from what?

Tacos. As I have explained in previous posts, the smell of tacos always fills the air. At the metro stop I use for work, upon exiting the station and surfacing on the street, I walk by a half dozen taco stands. They are packed with hungry Mexicans stuffing themselves with breakfast before work. They smell absolutely delicious, just not at 6:00am. In fact, I generally try to hold my breath and avoid gagging.

The silliness of Mexico does not stop with these things. Mexico borders the U.S. but as many of you know is place could be on the other side of the world. The culture is so unique and distinct from that of America.

What do shiny shoes, noisy food, fortresses, tacos for breakfast, and American Idol in Mexico have in common? Seriousnessless. Yup, I just created and patented that word. It is life in D.F. That is the point I am at right now, seriousnessless. It is as if I am living a dream. The 60-65 hours at work fly by. Daily, I learn something new, go somewhere new, and gain a greater understanding of how other people live. You should make a short trip to another world. I am off to eat a tamale and beat up its maker. Vaya con dios.

*****Phil, Dad, Me, Isa, la Francesa, and Laura

*****Me and Dad on my roof

*****Waterfall in Cuernavaca

*****Isa and the picnic at the waterfall

What I actually do here

Work. My dad visited a couple of weeks ago on business. Of course we had a great time together and reflected about life and its path. He mentioned that he greatly enjoyed the blogs but reiterated similar concerns that others had previously expressed. Do you do anything besides go out on the town?

Of course I do. I work 60-65 hours a week. He suggested that I tell y’all a little bit about what I do. So, here goes…

CMM. If you didn’t know, I work for De la Calle, Madrazo, Mancera (CMM), SC. They are a small, boutique consulting firm that specializes in international trade, lobbying, and strategic planning. There are about 20 people in the office, including support staff. The office is located in the lovely neighborhood of Polanco, two blocks north of the big hotels. This is perfect because of the amount of conferences, speeches, and meetings that take place in them that we must attend.

Daily. I have a set list of daily activities on top of my other projects. Everyday I arrive at 7am and peruse a database containing all news and media. I read everything that relates to Mexico in the Wall Street Journal, NY Times, the Times, the Economist, important U.S. domestic papers, etc. I then decide what is important or pertinent for our 30+ clients. I write a summary of these relevant articles and send it out to our clients. Next, I do a more specific newsletter for the U.S. Pork Producers. I read all of the important Mexican national newspapers and the same list of American media to find what is influencing the world meat market. I write summaries of the articles of both the English and Spanish articles in English.

My final daily activity, besides a few translations, is reading, monitoring, and reviewing the Mexican presidential race. This is fascinating. I create a weekly newsletter that includes summaries of all of the candidates’ speeches, positions, declarations, schedules, etc from the following week. You know, what they have said lately, who they have pissed off, and whose support they want.

That all occurs before 10am. After that I work on a number of client matters. These usually include research, proposal writing in Spanish and English, power point presentations, etc. I get to meet with the clients and watch as others explain our analysis and recommendations.

Some weeks are extremely busy, and others are not. I would say usually I am overworked and busy. But I very much enjoy what I do.

Future plans. I am coming back to the U.S. in May. I am working with school groups in western North Carolina for two weeks, teaching them outdoors skills and group activities. In June, I head out west to California, Oregon, and Washington to lead two trips in the wilderness. Each trip is a month long and includes a week of backpacking, two days rock climbing, three river rafting, one/two mountain biking, two/three days climbing a big peak, another river rafting, then another week in the outback. The first trip will be with 13-15 year old kids, and the second with 15-17 year olds. I intend to have my next job beginning on September 1st. If you have paid attention and crunched the numbers, that leaves about 10 days or so to relax at the end of August. If you are around the Massachusetts area, gimme a ring in August. We’ll get together.

Please send any questions or comments directly to the source. If y’all are curious about any other cultural aspects, what it’s like to live in the second most dangerous country for journalists (Iraq is first), or what really happens here during Spring Break, feel free to write.

*****Waterfall in Cuernavaca

*****Me, Dad, and Jorge

*****Gol!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*****Isa and the picnic at the waterfall

*****Me and Raf

*****Me and Philip at the Super Bowl

*****Super Bowl Crew- Phil, Me, Raf, Nya, Chrsitine, Shane, and Andrew

Super Bills

America. As I have said in other logs, I am a well-traveled, open-minded American. But I am an American through and through. The Super Bowl is a time of America, much like Thanksgiving. It is a microcosm for our world and culture. Although I was not thrilled about the two teams participating, my anticipation for the event has been building for weeks. I love this classically American event.

Mexicans. Surprisingly Mexicans are just as big on the Super Bowl as Americans, well, just as big is a slight exaggeration. However, it is on every TV in the country, and it happened on a very important soccer day. Yet, no soccer could be found.

Plans. One of my Mexican friends had invited me to a party, but I wanted a truly American experience. I couldn’t see myself cheering in Spanish with people whistling and throwing their arms about as if they were Michael Flatley’s legs from “River Dance.” I wanted beer, wings, people in jerseys, etc. So, I convinced Philip (German) to go with me to a very American establishment.

Hooters. Now, please understand I was going for (1) WINGS, (2) atmosphere, (3) beers, (4) maybe just the whole Hooters experience. How American can you get? There is only one in Mexico, and I had passed it on the way to a soccer game down south. Anyways, upon arriving there 2 hrs before the start of the game we discovered that Mexicans longed for the same experience and had book the restaurant months in advance. They weren’t letting people in yet, so the parking lot was full of Steelers jerseys and Mexicans. There was no way I could talk myself in or get a table. I couldn’t believe it. I told the hostess that I was American, that didn’t work. I told her I was from Pittsburg, that didn’t work. I told her my gimp brother was at the game and they were going to put a picture of him up on the big screen after the first quarter, no dice. I gave up, rolled my eyes, and whined to Philip that I couldn’t have tacos and watch the Super Bowl. As he consoled me, I saw a dejected American couple and we reunited. They longed for the same experience I just described. They came with us and we found a perfect place.

Papa Bills. Picture Wal-Mart filled with tables, TVs, and Mexicans. That is Papa Bills. Perfect! Our Brazilian friend, Rafeal, and our British friend, Andrew, joined us and our new American friends. We got our wings, our jerseys, our cheering. It was great. Also, they had 2 for 1 deals based on the game. Touchdown, 2 for 1 wings, etc, etc.

Mexicans cheering. I still don’t completely understand the whistling. Sometimes they use it to “boo” the opposing team; sometimes they do it to “cheer on” their team. But like many things in Mexico, it isn’t supposed to make sense, and you should follow along. When in Rome.

It was all that I hoped it would be…See the pictures

Civilization, Defined.

As I walked to work the other morning bobbing around as I listened to my Ipod, I thought, why do the dozen biggest dogs on earth live on the two blocks from my house to the Metro? And why do these dogs eat so much? Walking to and from the metro is like dodging land miles in northern Cambodia. You think you see them all, but if you take your concentration off for the pavement for only a second, the really big one gets ya. And the results are less than pretty.

This very smelly and large mistake had me recalling a certain street in Buenos Aires. Said street could not be described as lined with land mines because there was no pavement to be seen, it was more like stomping through a barn after feedin’ time. I wondered, can a society be considered civilized if they do not pick up dog excrement?

In the luxurious neighborhood of Polanco, the side walks and even the streets are washed with soap, swept with brooms, and otherwise cleaned daily as if preparing for the King’s arrival. Although this can be viewed as a prestigious and lavish benefit to living in such a neighborhood, those attendants are really just making sure that the doggy business isn’t all over the place. My neighborhood isn’t so lucky to have that kind of attention. Thus, I dodge the mines.

Making out. I am sorry, I must address the phenomenon. If you are one of those prude readers, please skip to the end. Ok, so, making out. Besides being common practice worldwide, Mexicans feel that doing it outside and in public places are the only places that it should be done. Outside the Metro, inside the Metro stations, on the Metro, on the street, in the T-shirt store, they do not discriminate. They take advantage of all locations. The approach to life “age is just a number” is embraced by the whole society. Meaning, the kids could be thirteen or seventy-five. I have seen both. There is nothing quite as disturbing as seeing two senior citizens sitting in the proscribed “elderly persons” seats on the metro going at it like adolescents in the back of a 1969 Chevy. Talk about the “early bird special.” I mean, I am in no mood to say hello let along be forced to watch this indignity on the way to work. No gracias.

Fig Newtons. Can you believe it? They haven’t even heard of Fig Newtons. Well, gosh, they are fruit AND cake! I am not sure if I can be a part of a society that doesn’t relish in these delicacies. I mean, anything else would be uncivilized.

Now, I ask you, is it civilized to leave dog feces lining the streets on which you live? Is it civilized to have your elderly and youth kissing in dramatic fashion in public? Is it refined to live without Fig Newtons? No, no it is not. And, as you are all my witnesses, I will put a stop to it all. Long live pooper-scooper laws, long live feeling ashamed of PDA (public displays of affection), and long live the cookie (fruit and cake) aisle at Publix! Amen.

In the State of the Union address last night, George W. said, "we strive to be a compassionate, decent, hopeful society." I strive to be that way too. That is why when I see couples kissing, dogs pooping, and cookies not being there, I extend my heart and try to love. I hope that one day fruit and cake will be in Mexico and sidewalks will be land-mine free. Shalom.