Song Sung Red White and Green

This goes out to all those well-meaning homies of mine who tried to warn me about biiiig, baaaad, D.F (Mexico City), home to 19.2 million people, most of whom (according to varied sources) are cold-hearted, bloodthirsty gangbangers who specialize in victimizing young blond girls from Utah. Sorry, guys, but it was totally NBD. Not the wretched hive of scum and villainy everyone depicted it as. I made it through the airport and all the way to Puebla on the bus without being the victim of (or viewing any) kidnappings, stabbings, beheadings, shootings, robberies or other delinquent behavior. In fact, I’ve been in the country for 3 days now and haven’t even been molested yet, which indicates that Mexicanos are a little more self-controlled/respectful than the citizens of some other cities I could mention (*cough*Bucharest!) where I’d been off the plane 10 seconds and the guys were getting fresh.

The malatero who helped me with my bags at the airport told me I didn’t have to tip him. “My country receives so much help from yours,” he told me. “It’s a privilege to serve you, don’t worry about the money.” YES, I tipped him, durrr! Maybe he only said that to get a better tip, but however you look at he didn’t cheat me, right? He also, miraculously, helped me skip all the lines at customs (aduana) so I was out of there en el abrir y cerrar de un ojo! (in the blink of an eye!) The trip to Puebla was pleasant, mostly because I sat next to the most amicable Testigo de Jehova I have ever met in my life. We had a great conversation sprinkled with Biblical references. I totally appreciated the lack of wrath. I remember writing an email home about the arrival to Iasi almost 4 years ago and I’m realizing that, for some reason, coming to Mexico has felt kind of natural. Taking that ancient train out of Buch into the black forest felt like we could be driving off the edge of the world. The first few days I felt like I was being smacked in the face with the frying pan of foreignness; all the familiarity was stripped away and it was exhilarating. There is something so appealing about the idea of being out of my own world. I don’t feel that rawness here, but I do see thousands of things that make me smile and my heart does a little Yo-ha dance every time I remember I’m here at last!

Puebla is very different from Sonora; in San Carlos and Guaymas there are a lot of touristy things directed towards Americans and you don’t see any of that here. The houses in the colonia where I live are like the ones I saw in Guaymas; brilliantly colored and equipped with an equally brightly painted gate that you unlock before entered the courtyard in front of the house. It’s been heartbreakingly cold the last two days, tragically overcast and rainy. I asked some friends who are from this area what the weather was like and they told me it could get chilly…I didn’t like that answer so I blithely chose to hope that they were crazy and that I would find myself in a sauna-like jungle. Not so much, although, I have reason to believe that the winter will go easier on me than on all y’all in Utah. :) However, the buildings here don’t tend to have insulation or central heating, so I guess we’ll see who suffers more.
So, now that I’ve mentioned Romania about 80 times, this might be a good time to bring up that fact that I wanted to try to avoid comparing this experience to Romania…but there are so many little things that trigger my Iasi memories here! All of the bathrooms, for instance, smell exactly like the entryway to Podul de Fier (as in, well…faci), cigarettes and car exhaust also smell like they did in Romania, milk and juice comes in boxes, everyone stares at me with muddled expressions of bewilderment ranging from irritation to lust, and there is rampant PDA everywhere. All of these little details embedded here remind me of the girls I was with in Romania and make me wish I had Liz or Megan or Cassidy here with me to be new and get lost and make mistakes together. Instead I am a solo sister once again.  Haha, but we all know I can do that and rock it, right? Right?


I know it can be terrifically boring reading all the minute details of someone’s trip, but I had to tell y’all that I got here on the Mexican Independence Day and it was the perfect day to arrive! Some friends of my good friend Cristina picked me up from the bus station and we went party-hopping that night. We went swimming in a huge building that used to be a textile factory but has been used exclusively for sweet parties ever since it closed down. In the back of the building there was a program going on and while we were there eating tacos del pastor (ahhh rica!) we saw a fashion show with typical Mexican styles (all fierce!), some little kids doing the Mexican hat dance, and (my favorite) Mariachi Estrella, which is considered the best Mariachi band in the city of Puebla. I love the Mexican culture so much, but there are some things that just make laughter bubble up inside me and so I smile very broadly so that giggling out loud will not necessitate explaining to anyone that I find what is going on just a little ridiculous. Mariachi bands are one of those things that are hard for me to take seriously; men dressed in 3 Musketeers uniforms with enormous sparkly sombreros, playing accordions, guitars and trumpets. But the best is the way that they SING! I can’t describe it, it’s this passionate warble and even when they have amazing voices it’s just so cheesy for me. I love it; I really do, so I hope this doesn’t sound insulting to anyone. Anyway, the lead singer of this group was called El Osito Polar (the Polar Bear), and he turned out to be an older gentleman with an enormous booming voice and stomach. Jaja. He was super dramatic and worked the crowd like a champ singing patriotic songs of Mexico (these songs all must make mention of the Virgen de Guadalupe, of course). Every once in awhile when the music was really upbeat he would do a little booty shake to accompany the men singing the chorus. I LOVED HIM! That was one of the moments when I really wished I had someone from home with me to appreciate the moment, he was truly too much, it was perfect. See? Aren't they the steeze?


Later that night we went to dar el Grito (give the Shout) in the centro of a city outside Puebla. On the 15th of September at 11 PM everyone participates in el Grito led by a town official. Basically the shout consists of repeating “VIVA!” after the official says, “VIVA MEXICO!” and some other things. At the end of the shout, everyone yells “VIVA MEXICO!” several times and then everyone bursts into the national hymn of Mexico. Following the hymn there is a massive fireworks show. The streets were teeming with ecstatic and frenzied people, there was so much energy that I felt absolutely elated and it wasn’t even my holiday! (I was having a lot of fun with the guys I was with, as well, my Spanish kicked in again Morena style and it was nonstop laughter. We got the colors of the Mexican flag painted on our faces, ven? You might have to click on it to make it bigger.


I wish I could have taken pictures of all the people there packed together like at a concert. Everyone was blowing special noise-makers that are the colors of the flag, people were spraying foam on each other, there were street vendors selling flags and t-shirts, jewelry and hats all in the colors of the red white and green. Men were carrying their little kids on their shoulders and the children had flags in both their hands. Lots of people were drinking; one lady passed out and was being trampled by the crowd so she had to be carried out by the paramedics. It was all insane. We pushed and elbowed our way to the middle so we could have a good view of the fireworks. They literally shot off the roof only a few feet above the crowd, showering all the people with sparks; one green spark fell right in front of me and took a few seconds to fizzle out. I’m pretty sure a couple of people lost an eye, but it didn’t matter because everyone was so happy and screaming VIVA MEXICO! It was absolutely nuts! Then the roof caught on fire from some of the fireworks! That is not a joke! I thought that was the best thing ever, I mean the roof was literally on fire! Some bomberos put it out and everyone kept singing and shouting like there was no manana. It was absolute bliss. Then when it was all over everyone tried to leave at the same time and that was madness because nobody could move. We managed to scramble over to a nearby paleta store (ice cream) and had dragonberry ices while we waited for the crowd to disperse. It was a perfect night. The Fourth of July has nothing on that, let me tell you.

Wow, I got so excited writing about the Grito that I forgot how long I had made this post. TMI? Convoluted? Sorry. My point is that I’m safe, happy, and learning so much! Tomorrow I will write a little about JUCONI and my assignment here, I love it already. I’m thinking about joining the Peace Corps so I can do this thing forever. Ciao pues! Leave me comments b/c I don’t have many friends here yet and I need to have lots of attention or I’ll just DIE! Kidding. Kind of.