Ceviche & Crazy Glue

Since I didn't have to work today because of the immigration crackdown, my buddy Mario, feeling badly, he tells me - for the dumb drama that happened,  and wanting to make up for it - shows up at my door with shrimp, conch, cucumbers, tomatoes, onions and limes.  "I'm making you Ceviche, he says.  "You just sit there and let me do everything." Who am I to argue?  The only thing I did was disinfect all the veggies and do a little chopping until I got in trouble and had to sit down.

The shrimp were beautiful and the conch was a type called callo, chopped up and very soft and sweet.  Apparently the most expensive seafood here.  It was also Mario's day off.

We had a feast, with tostadas, beer and a little bit of hot sauce.  He broke my favourite lime squeezer and felt awful.  I'm sure tomorrow there will be a new one delivered to me; Mario is like that.

I'm off to Salsa dance tonight with Abdel, even though I still don't have any decent shoes.  The ones I did buy broke the same night I wore them at work.  The rubber heel bit came off and David next door gave me some crazy glue to fix it.  I was in the back room trying to get the damn stuff out of the tube, but to no avail.  I took a fork and tried to make the hole bigger, thinking it wouldn't be good if the fork slipped and rammed into my thumb.  Of course, that's exactly what happened and then I had no shoe, plus a bleeding thumb.  Not a lucky night.  It is still very numb and my shoes are toast because now I can't find the black bit, even though David brought me a new tube of crazy glue the night we went to see Batman.  That was very nice, and  well, it's good to have on hand.  Maybe I can glue my lime sqeezer back together.

Lesson #1:  never open a tube of crazy glue with a fork.

Lesson #2:  never buy high heeled shoes made in China.

Lesson #3:  when someone brings you shrimp, let them make you ceviche.

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Heat & Drama

It's hot.  I think it's at least 35.  Is it possible to have more than 100 percent humidity?  It feels like 300 percent today.  It hasn't rained in three days, not that the rain really does much to cool things off.  It's a nice break but then if it turns sunny right away, it becomes an even hotter sauna or I should say - steam bath.

My fan is my best friend.  My friend Lisa from Canada asks me "just how hot is it there?"  I don't really have an accurate temperature because I don't watch tv or have a weather channel access.  But I'll give you this as an example.  I had some breath mints I brought in my purse from Canada.  The kind that are tiny and white, like little pills, and pack a whallop of mint in your mouth.  They come in a little plastic case like a sliding match box.  Yesterday I went to get one from what I remembered was 4 remaining and all that was there was a tiny clear puddle.  It took me a moment to realize what it was;  a melted puddle of breath mints turned liquid.  All melted . . . just sitting on my bookshelf.  

I had some trident gum packaged up sitting in my purse for a few days and the other day couldn't figure out what this green goo was at the bottom of my bag. . .it was melted trident, just from being in my purse inside my apartment.

Wearing makeup is a lost cause, since it also melts.  Some people cary small terry towels over their shoulder, to wipe their face when they're out walking in the street.

Yesterday Eva, my little sister (who worked with me as the other hostess at the Blue) and I took the bus to Plaza Caracol.  We thought it would offer us some relief to get to a mall, but the bus we took was the busiest one of all and chock full of people and self-absorbed tourists who didn't  understand the concept of moving to the back.  It was excruciatingly hot and when we finally got into the mall we breathed a giant sigh of relief.

But now it is evening, and the rain has finally come.  I just got back from picking up my laundry from around the corner, when 10 minutes later, it started hammering down. As I approached the laundry, the older lady, who was standing around said as if it was the most normal comment to make: "I'm waiting for the rain."   It's something to look forward to after 3 boiling hot days. It's coming in my balcony because it can't drain fast enough through the holes in the bricks.  If I can get my audio movie sample working, I'll post it and you'll be able to hear it.  It is awesome to experience a rain like this.

In the Fuego en la Sandra telenovola, Sandra gets a call one quiet night from a woman who says she is Mario's wife and why am I hanging around with a married man?  Well, that was shock but also hard to believe.  I diplomatically hung up on her and then I asked my friend Mario a couple of  days later what the heck's going on.   Well, it turns out she isn't his wife, but is the mother of his 5 month-old boy.  I knew he had a baby son; Mario talks fondly of him and how cute he is.  The mother was visiting from another town so Mario could see him.  I guess she's jealous, even though they aren't together anymore.  According to Mario, she is emotionally  blackmailing him so he can keep seeing his son.   She went through his phone to find texts from people, who she assumes are his girlfriends and then pretended to be him, by using his phone to text me messages.  Luckily, I was too busy to answer them!  It finally all came out in the wash and Mario and I had a good talk about it.  I have no real reason to disbelieve  Mario who is and has been a good friend, and my instinct tells me he is a good person. Right now,  it's all okay but I do not really want to be living in a Mexican soap opera.

Lesson #1:  Ask questions first

Lesson #2:  Things are not always as they seem

Lesson #3:  Wait for the less crowded bus to come along

The Malecon

I'm sitting on a bronze bench that is shaped like an alien, facing the ocean.  I escaped my apartment to head down to the Malecon, the sea walk to catch the sunset.  It is just getting dark and the pirate ship has passed by with its big lighted mast.  The clouds are lovely tonight and the sunset was very fast, it seemed.  I am surrounded by throngs of people and I'm so wanting some peace and quiet.  It's not gonna happen in downtown Vallarta, so I have my laptop with my earphones and have created a very small bubble of space that is barely being respected.  All the mexicans are on vacation and to be honest, I've really had enough of them today.   I know it sounds awful, since this is their country, but I feel like this is my town and it's full of tourists.  I've got spoiled in slow season, Ha.  how silly.  It's just that it has been very very crowded everywhere I try to go. I don't do well in crowds. Crowds are EVERYwhere, there is no relief.  I made the mistake of going to Woolworth for a short trip to get some shampoo and ended up there for two hours and then 30 minutes in line with one cashier and about 70 people lined up.  I just about fell over when I was finally ready to pay for few items I had spent hours finding.  I wanted to walk out but I really needed shampoo and the two 7 dollar shirts I found.  For me shopping and looking at stuff  is a cultural experience.  But standing in line, is another cultural experience in Mexico and one I least enjoy.  I learned a lot about patience today.  I calmly observed people of all kinds, many women with infants slung casually against their chest, little tiny newborns and toddlers, pregnant women ready to deliver any moment holding 2 year olds and then there were young couples, old couples, every kind of people.  Nobody really complained, it was amazing to me.  They all just took it in as if it happens all the time.  Maybe it does.  If this was the States or yes, even places in Canada, you'd see irate people demanding service and raising a stink as if they were entitled to something.  Here, they just wait in line. I was blown away by it. But really, I've never seen such an immense lack of customer service since I was at the bank two weeks ago  Well, that's how it is here.

There is a cute girl standing staring at me, wanting to see what I'm up to.  She's staring at me and looking at my computer screen.  She's about 4 and sweet, but she's in my space.  As soon as I got on the Malacon, somebody whose name I don't remember called me and started asking me questions about how I am, all about my work, etc.  I looked at him and said, I just need some time alone and walked away.

I feel like I wasted my day off stuck in Woolworth, but there will be other days off.  I'm feeling frustrated that's all.  Now that I only have one week left at work, I feel like I am free again.   I actually feel a lot better.  But I just want to sit for a while and enjoy the ocean, and stay cool.  I need some nature.  The other day I saw a beautiful swallow sitting on the air conditioner of the building that I stare at every night at work.  He was singing his heart out.  I loved it.  They have 2 or 3 nests way up high in the corner of the building and all the babies have now flown away, having learned how to do that on busy Juarez street, dodging traffic.

I went to a movie last night with a buddy David Martinez, an hispanic american who moved to Vallarta from Colorado 8 years ago and currently is the manager of De Santos, a cool restaurant beside the Blue Shrimp.  He didn't even speak Spanish when he came here.  How odd huh?  We bonded on the street, both doing the same type of work.  He's about 50 something and has a very interesting life story.   It can get boring on the street, so we've had lots of time to chat. He wanted to see Batman so invited me to go.  We went to a very mexican taco/meat restaurant afterwards located at the north side of downtown.  We had the bbq'd ribs.  It was so hot and the television playing bad banda videos was excruciatingly loud, but I thought: wow. how lucky I am to be here experiencing this.  I would never have the chance otherwise if I was by myself.  We had a great conversation about spirituality and it was a challenge to focus with the loud music, but it was all part of the experience.

I'm still sitting in front of the ocean on the bench.  The little girl who was just trying to hug me is named Fernanda.  I asked her if her mom was nearby and yes, just over there with her brothers.  We talked movies and then i put my earplugs back in and she flew off.  Then she came back and I didn't have the heart to ignore her.  She's 5 and has 5 brothers and is the only and youngest girl.  We talked music and dance and then she wanted to listen to my earphones.  She asked me if I had a boyfriend and when I said no, she wanted to know why not.  HA!  What IS it with the Mexicans?  I told her it was more important to have girlfriends.  When her mom came to fetch her 15 minutes later, she very reluctantly and with great difficulty left.  So sweet.  My first conversation in spanish with a 5 year old!

En Mexico hay un dicho . . .

It's Saturday and I don't know where the day went.  Sleeping till noon doesn't help, but lately I've been getting to bed at 4 in the morning, so I did get 8 hours but the day is shot.  I eat my breakfast standing up at my tile counter; some mango, some papaya with lime and chile powder and a cup of Twinings english breakfast tea which is a luxury I found - 10 bags for $3.  Crackers, coffee and tea are the most costly items in the grocery store.  

I have to work at 5, and it's already 3:30.  I made the mistake of looking through my last 4 years of photos while I was burning a disc of beach pictures for Max, the bartender.  I became all the more depressed thinking of what has become of my life, compared to what it was not that long ago.  It's like looking through stills of a tragic movie.  I'm apathetic and don't care about anything anymore, except my dog, whose photos I can't look at without crying.  I think the heat is getting to me.  I got the bank all sorted out and the most difficult thing was trying to call collect from a phone in Mexico.  My beautiful friend Luisa, helped me.  The bank told me it was the machine I was using, not the card.  So, it was an interesting experience not having any money or rather living on the money that I am making here in Mexico. A whopping 500 dollars a month.  I learned that I really don't need that much.  I lived off my tips and really didn't have to do much else.

Mexicans seem to thrive on drama.  Even Jorge says it's true and I think he's very calm and organized.  There's a fair amount of it at work.  Gossip really.  I get tired of it, especially when it's half made-up!  They must learn it from all the soap operas.  There are 4 or 5 every night on television.   There's one very popular one called Fuego en la Sangre (Fire in the Blood) so when my romantic life gets complicated I tell my buddy Umberto who by the way LOVES the soaps, that I'm living in a telenovela called Fuego en la Sandra.  He laughs his head off.  I'm impressed with myself at my punability in a second language.  I've been warned that mexican men lie about being married and often have two or three women on the go, while married and having a family, many with children from different mothers.  I am shocked to hear this but I guess it really happens. Thankfully, I haven't experienced this.  A well developed instinct comes in handy for a girl here.  

I'm going to give my notice at work, even though I love the people who work there (except the management).  Everything is so fleeting.  I'm just a passer by . . . and hostesses are a dime a dozen.  But despite that crass attitude, I know I have made some wonderful connections there, and also think I have touched others' lives as well.  I wish I could take a handful of them home with me, especially Umberto, my friend the kitchen cook who is as sweet and gentle as can be and would LOVE to go to Canada, although he speaks hardly a word of english.  We went for beers and a movie the other day and had such a good time, talking music, relationships, and stories.  His whole family disowned him years ago, when he told his very catholic family that he was gay. He left his town in Aguascalientes and came to Vallarta and is quite alone here.  His family doesn't even know where he his.  He definitely brings out my mothering side.  

I'm back from work and gave my notice.  I thought Sam would be miffed, since he is so unpredictable and emotional, but instead he spend a good 40 minutes telling me places I should visit before heading home, what the good food is in those places and encouraging me to open up a dance school in Vallarta and giving me ideas.  I was pleasantly shocked.   It was very slow tonight and I had time to talk with a few waiters, Juan, who keeps teaching me new words and gave me list of good restaurants I should eat at.  We talked about snow, dinosaurs and marine biology.  Jorge and I talked philosophy and he always says:  "En Mexico, hay un dicho" . . "In Mexico there is a saying" , and Mexico has a LOT of sayings, all very profound and usually there is an equivalent in English, but not always.  I think there are many more "dichos" in Spanish than in English, or at least they are far more used.  Jorge has a mind like a steel trap and remembers everything, so one can always depend on him to have an appropriate dicho for the occasion. 

Miguel, a busboy (man) who is married to a gorgeous Brazilian samba dancer, (who I know because she is the hostess at our sister restaurant down the way), talked with me tonight about dreams and deciding what it is that I want to do.  He is a very sweet and quietly profound person.  Always observing.  "You look sad tonight, what's going on?"  he asked me tonight.  Can't hide anything from Miguel.  

I'm already feeling meloncholic and I haven't left yet. I just don't like endings.

Photos here are the Blue Shrimp girls - me, Luisa and Lupita, and me with one of our busboys Aron.

Messages

On Friday, I taught my first belly dance class in Mexico.  I did a free hour for the girls at work.  Sylvia, the cashier at Si Senor (the sister restaurant up the street)  who tells me she's been there forever, Wendy the freelance photographer who comes in to take tourist pictures, Deanna, a former hostess who hangs out at Si Senor and has taken bellydance before, and Valeria, who makes tortillas by hand on the grill in the evenings.  We met at the restaurant and then all walked over to my flat, where I had moved my bed to the corner and actually had quite a bit of space and a freshly washed tile floor.  Despite my limited vocabulary in dance language, it all worked out and the girls were doing hip circles and glute squeezes by the end of the class.  Sylvia, who kept telling me she had two left feet was in love with it, and I heard her telling her daughter on the phone later how much she enjoyed it.  They all wanted to come back twice a week and pay me.   Geez, I didn't know if I could be that reliable, but they talked me into it, insisting they have as many classes as I could give then before I leave Vallarta for awhile.

I have no access to my bank account.  One card stopped working and the other one I lost 3 days later.  Luckily, I had just paid my rent and bought groceries. . . so no dancing shoes for me right now.  I keep getting asked to go to the salsa club and have to say no since I have no shoes!  What message am I receiving here, I'm not sure.  I am fortunate to have friends who have told me that if there is anything they can do to help, all I have to do is ask.  People at work, friends I have here, friends far away.

So far, I have not been able to resolve anything, here,  this all happened so suddenly.  But what does it mean?  With help from Luisa from work, she called Walmart, they checked but there was no card dropped off.  I must have forgotten it in the machine.  They advised calling HSBC, whose machine it was.  There was no answer, like it was out of service.  So I find out where the nearest hsbc main bank is and have my friend Mario drive me there one day, when our schedules sync.  His air conditioning isn't working and its an oven in his jeep, driving through cobblestones.  We park, get there and walk over and see that there is a "closed for renovations" sign.  Oh brother, I think and start laughing at the ridiculousness of this scene.  "You have bad luck chica", says Mario, overstating the obvious.  "I do not", I reply back.  "If I had bad luck, you wouldn't be here with me and able to drive me to the far side of town to get to the other hsbc bank!".  Off we went, boiling in the heat, but at least the highway was faster and the wind could get in the windows.  It was a pleasant chilly air conditioned bank and I didn't even mind waiting 30 minutes in line, because it was at least not stiflingly hot.  I have, however, never seen a more inefficient way to serve the pubic.  That's another blog.  Suffice it say that at last when we sat down with the banking fellow, he told me there was nothing I could do.  Apparently, if your card is forgotten in the machine (as I am want to think) it gets eaten and then destroyed and if that isn't enough; the pieces are then shipped off to Mexico City.  Hmph.  That sounds pretty final, doesn't it.

So, I have so far eaten well for three days, with the food I have in the fridge, and the sweetness of my friends, especially Mario, who took me for pizza the other day, and fed me take out chicken from the nightclub last night.  I met a guy on the street who took me for a beer and ceviche the next day, and asked me to go sailing (but I didn't go, because after the beer and ceviche his hands were all over me and I had to pry him off me before I took my street back home.  He kept telling me he was just affectionate - but simply he was just not a gentleman and no amount of sailing on my day off was worth it.)

So no dance shoes, but I'm okay right now.  I get my tips this week from work, a whopping 200 pesos usually, but hey it's grocery money.  Am I destined to stay in Mexico?   I wanted to quit my job to do some more traveling; I guess that will have to wait a bit.  Stay tuned for the conclusion to this interesting dilemma.

_

Food, Clothes & Heat

I cooked my dinner tonight in my little kitchen; I thought I would just have something simple like eggs.  I started with onions in a pan of butter, two eggs fried with mexican salsa added to get warm, then a bunch of broken up nortena tostados thrown into it with some wonderful mexican sour cream, stir it up, then squeeze lime in, a little more salsa, and there you have it:  I don't know what to call it, but it was damned good.  I don't think I could just eat boring old eggs again.  Am I turning mexican?

I worry that in canada, I won't be able to find even a good salsa, never mind any good  tostados as wonderful as these.  It was hard enough in Californina to get them.

I had molé for the first time the other night; it was fantastic.  The more I find out about mexican cooking, the longer I want to stay so I can get a chance to eat it all.  Sam, my manager, even though he is a sexual pig, like most men here (who gladly admit to it) is a great food lover - gordito that he is.  He talked at great length the other night,  while I was eating my dinner in front of him at the end of my shift, about al the different molés, and what's in them and where they come from.  I love to hear him talk about food.  My eyes glaze over and I feel like I"m being hypnotised.  Way better than the story of his failed marriage, but I listen to him no matter what because when he talks about something sort of important, he is not being silly or inappropriate with me, and it is a nice change.  He likes to talk and I like to listen, although it's not often we hang out and do that.

Today at lunch in the back of the courtyard hanging with the kitchen and wait staff having our daily meal, we all were talking about different dishes from the regions we're all from; fantasizing about a sharing-together-of-dishes sort of party.  The only thing that sucks here, is that we only get one day off (the norm in mexico) so nobody can all get together at once.  How stupid is that?  Luisa is from Oaxaca and was going on about some of the dishes she could make. Everybody loves food here.  I watched Luisa eat her chicken tostados and it was something else.  She had a whole ritual of things she did and stuff she added, and I don't know how she stays so skinny, the way she digs into her food.

The cool chef, Ernesto, got shipped to Puebla, so that's too bad.  He and I were buddies and he was just starting to ask me what I wanted to eat (special treatment) -  damn.

I have been sick the last two days, and it's a bit better today but I"m cautious.   No capacity to hold food down.  Five others at work were sort of the same, but I think I had it worse.  I keep hoping I lose weight but somehow my tummy is not as flat as it used to be. 

Since I got stood up on my after work date, I was all the happier to go shopping; I found some new nice flip flop type sandals today, next door to the resto.  Then I looked at some other shops and found one, sort of grimy but full of cool tops,  jeans & dresses on my own street, Juarez..  I tried on 3 pair of pants and got one pair of black stretch that help my butt look good but are a little tight in the legs.  For 26 bucks i think they're great. 

There's something weird about peeling on and off  clothes over sweaty skin in a tiny change room with dusty mirrors.  It's exhausting and no, there's no air conditioning.  Are you kidding?  I see many humungous butts here and I don't know where those women find pants to fit them, because I chose a large and it just fit me. If  I'm a large, then what are they?  One day I'll find the store of my dreams that make pants to fit my body.  Apparently the style in jeans now is skin tight and also tight all the way down the leg.  I can't fit my calves into those ones.  It's too much trouble shopping, so today I wimped out and wore my sarong.  NObody wears a sarong here, and I think they are all the crazier for it.  Mine has been my best friend in mexico, acting as emergency table cloth, window covering, towel, beach blanket, shade cover, after shower house dress,  belly dance veil, night gown,  night shawl and sheet.  Pretty versatile huh?

 I rewired a lamp that was broken in my furnished apartment I was quite proud and also proud of the side table I made upon which to put it; a mop pail with a large 20 gallon water jug upside down in it, covered with a scarf.  It works.

It's still hot.  Like a sauna outside and inside my apartment.  A spray bottle of water and a fan are what keeps me sane, barely.  Photos are of me in my new clothes, pics of my apartment and pics of my favourite mexican foods.  Papaya, Tajin, salt & lime snacks and of course it's not a food, but the rose scented Virgin Mary candle is the finishing touch to dinner. 

A Hot & Sticky Bastille Day

Things are getting steamier; and I mean that in the most literal sense.  It feels like a sauna outside.  I'm really sleepy all the time, but I did have a nice day off on Sunday, just did domestic stuff and walked to the grocery store about 8 blocks away.  It was sunny and lovely and hot of course.  I didn't intend to get much, but well, ended up taking a cab home because I did get too much to have walked home for 8 blocks. 

Pet peeve in Mexico : little kids get work at grocery stores bagging groceries.  They don't have a clue how to pack anything.  I hate it.  I have to first wait for them to finish tossing all my nice veggies and stuff into itty bitty bags, then i take it all over to the side of the store and repack it all into something I can almost carry.  

So to be fair, one thing i love in Mexico: coconut popsicles  for 50 cents from men pushing little carts.

 I am mesmerized by the amount of cleaning products on the shelves.  The most popular thing is called Fabuloso.  It comes in many flavours and colours and sizes.  It is like Mr. Clean, you put it in water and throw the mop in, but it is NOT Mr. Clean, it is Fabuloso, it smells great and EVERYONE uses it to mop.  There are only string mops here. I've looked and looked.  I saw a sponge mop replacement head once, but NO sponge mop.  Mysterious isn't it?

After disinfecting all the veggies and putting away my groceries in my new fridge that I got because the old one packed it in two days ago (I lost my food and had to mop up a lot of water) I made shrimp, octopus and conch ceviche on tostadas with avocado.  The sauce was a little mayo with lime juice, salt and mexican crema.  My heavens, that was very tasty and I ate it on my balcony with a glass of beer, and received the little breeze there was that evening.  I never sit out on my balcony and it was really nice, except that when I stood up, I kicked my glass over and it smashed.  That's two glasses now and one plate.  Oops.  Glass and mexican tile just don't go together.  I'll have to stick to plastic, since I'm so clumsy.

Yesterday, Monday, I took the bus to Walmart and also to the Vallarta Galleries, a new shopping mall in Pitillal, a neighbourhood of Vallarta.  I only had so much time, so I went into the first store that looked good and spent two hours picking out some clothes and accessories and having fun feasting my eyes on all the cool stuff that was sectioned off into colours.  A very Mexican thing to do is have coordinating earings, bracelets,, bag and top, along with your super tight jeans and high heels.  I'm sort of getting used to it and spent a long time looking through all the cheap colour coordinated jewelry thinking of what I could wear it with.  It was the only thing that was affordable.  Clothes are not cheap here, but they are made cheaply, unless you pay a fortune for them, and even then they often fall apart after two wearings.  But this store was great and posh enough to have changing rooms and young ladies who would find me sizes.  By posh I mean I didn't have to schlep my sticky body through the noisy and busy streets to search through racks of poorly made and sometimes affordable primary coloured tops, or go into the back of a store to try it on in a closet under the stairs that serves as a change room.  It was a nice change.  God I loved that  shopping mall  Too bad it is so far away.  It is huge and I only saw two stores in it, so I'll go back when I have some more time.

Walmart was interesting and not cheap either.  I got the essentials and got out fast.  One good thing though, is that I couldn't understand the droning of the lady and the advertising that went on through the loudspeaker.  It was white noise to me.

Other things I love about Mexico:

salt & lime potato chips

salt & lime peanuts

sun chips that are made of fried bananas

fruit with salt & lime and chili

virgin mary icons on everything from buses to shopping bags

helpful people

taxis that have their own wolf whistle horn

Later that night, I worked from 4-8 and Eva, the other hostess, covered my shift so I could go to the Bastille Day event at this famous french restaurant; Cafe des Artistes.  I had been there once and it was fabulous.  This event I saw in the paper and it happens every year for french people living in Vallarta.  I slipped out of my comfort zone and just did it.  i walked over and didn't know a soul and everyone was sitting together in groups.  I felt very uncomfortable, but walked up to the first person sitting alone and introduced my self.  He was John, an older gentlemen who is a manager of  4 star restaurant in Reno and a fellow foodie and mexican culture appreciator - we ended up talking for the most part of the evening, and I also met some wonderful people, Ian, a chef at the St. Regis (yes, THE St. Regis hotel company) and his lovely wife Sabrina.  They had just moved to Vallarta from Cancun.  I also met  a few other people and some who knew people I knew and the night was filled with free wine, champagne, cheese, canapes, and deserts.  How civilised.  I got to meet Theirry Blouet, the chef and owner of 4 other restaurants in Vallarta and also his wife and a few friends of his who were "international" types.  There was a fabulous piano player and we all ended up singing Edith Piaff and jazz standards around the piano.  I'm a little tired today, lets just say.  And . . . . yes, I'm glad I stepped out of my comfort zone.  Oh, and as I finish writing this a few days later, I got my picture in the Tribunal, posing with the aforementioned people.  Lupita at the local convenience store told me she saw me in the paper when I was in for ice cream today.  I'l have to find a copy.

Welcome to the Blue Shrimp

Wow, I'm actually cold.  What a nice change.  I even turned off my floor fan this morning and put a t-shirt on!  Ever since my sunburn on Sunday, I don't miss the sun - AT ALL.  The only thing I don't like about the rain is how hard it is on the shoes and clothes.  It makes for a very long day shift at work though too.  B O R I N G.  I keep thinking I'll quit, but then something nice happens and I feel like one more day won't hurt.

I've been getting mostly night shifts which I prefer as there are more people and the staff who work at night also are more fun and less grumpy.  There is one waiter, Nicho, 3rd in command who is on day shift and so grumpy and negative.  His energy is a challenge to be around.  If I could just read a book or something I would feel like I'm not completely wasting my time.

Last night the owner was hanging around a lot, which I've not seen really.  He just gets in the way but we all kow-tow to him.  He is one of the most handsome men I've met, and well, he knows it of course, and is married, although you wouldn't know it from the way he acts or the women he brings into the restaurant at night with him.  Still, he is always, so far, very charming and polite to me.  I tried talking to him about me performing at the new place and asked if he thought it would be a place where it could happen regularly; was there a stage, etc.  He was encouraging but certainly evasive enough to avoid truly discussing it. A wonderful mexican male trait I've noticed here. He asked me to dance there in front of him, to show him some moves; right there in the restaurant at table 12.  I demurely declined and told him that he should really see my website with my videos, and that I wasn't inspired to dance right now in the middle of a busy restaurant.   I was waiting for my commission money on the bottles of the restaurant's kalhuah that I sold to customers.  It comes directly from him.  I get five bucks a bottle and if I continue to sell 2 a week, that pays for two drinks at the nightclub!  Or two taco dinners.  So back to my conversation; El senor Martin responded by asking me to do a little dance for him one night when there wasn't anybody in the restaurant, just us.  Hmmm I said, better that he see my videos on my website first and then thankfully people arrived and I had to work the door.  

The rest of the hour was spent playing the crazy game with my manager who is very tenacious in his efforts to have me be the mother of his baby.  Really, I mean if you could just hear how awful and cheesy his lines are, it would make a good Bmovie. And then at other times he is just plain blunt.  "We could stop at your apartment on the way to the other restaurant for a quickie, Why don't you just come home with me and I will feed you.  You know you could be number one here,  You've seen my daughter, you know I can make pretty babies, wouldn't you like to practice with me."  Oh yeah, that's what I come to work to hear.  I just smile at him and shake my head.  That's just the half of it; a lot of time it's commenting on my body; like my butt or the fact that a certain blouse makes me look busty,(now that's an outright lie) or oh god there's too many of them to remember.  And yes, he's touchy/feely  but for some reason, so far I've been able to just be cool with him while still keeping my sense of humour.  He's 41 and divorced with a 16 yr. old daughter.  And normally one would think he's a nice guy. Last night, he accompanied me to the other restaurant where I distribute flyers at night to the tables.  It was SO obvious, as two people are NOT needed or required.  In between the harassment I interjected:  "Sam, If you want to ever get laid again, you're going to have to learn some better lines with women.  And maybe try being nice."  I talk to him like a buddy and give it straight back to him.  I just can't take him seriously.

Two shifts ago, I met a fabulous guest, a  women 60 yrs. old but looks 47, and she invited me on my time off (yeah right time off) to hang by her pool where she is staying out in conchas chinas...wow, I would love that - so I must connect within 10 days before she goes home.  Sometimes you just know that someone is a kindred spirit.  There are many people I meet who are just there to eat and off they go. . . but once in a while there is a special person (s) who makes my night and teaches me something wonderful.  Those are the gifts that I get from working at this place.  I get asked a lot "how did you end up in here in mexico?"

People are curious.  "Your'e not from here are you?"  or tons of times people ask me if I'm the owner.  I reply, "No, actually I promised I wouldn't own another restaurant again, so here,  I just get the fun and none of the responsibility"

People are always VERY happy with the food, so at least I know it's a good place. It should be for how expensive it is.  Some people are over the top ecstatic about the food and say I have made they're night with being there and chatting with them, etc.  Last night I met two ladies from Kelowna!  One day there was a group from Penticton and we all knew people in common.  

Well it will be another day in the rain, boring boring, but I have plans to go salsa dancing later to make up for it.  Photos here are of my favorite waiters, the mariachi band and me, in my Mexican hostess clothes. As they say: When in Rome (or Vallarta!)

Dia de Descanso

Today it was a real privilege to go to the beach with a few of my co-workers, who share the same day off.  Max, the young bartender/university student with impecable manners, Luisa, the lovey and joyful young woman in inventory, Jorge, waiter, music lover & poet.  I was honoured to have been invited. 

After packing up a bunch of stuff I thought we might need, I took the bus to a shopping mall where we planned to meet.  The were waiting for me.  I seem to be the only one in mexico who is late for anything.  How surprising.  Not.  

It was kind of cloudy and Max drove his van to Punta Mita, on the way we stopped at Oxxo for coffee and then at Jorge's to pick him up and his  19 yr. old son Ivan who was visiting.  Jorge also has a child in kindergarden and a baby on the way.  We stopped at Mega, a superstore in Nueva Vallarta and was greeted by a high heeled young sexpot hostess who I'm not sure why, but showed us to the shopping carts.  A hostess is a big thing in Mexico, it seems everyone has them.  Hm.  I stopped asking questions  a long time ago.  Even the mexicans don't know why there is a need for a hostess in a grocery store.

We discovered that because it was municipal voting day, a sunday always, that there was NO SALE of any alcohol allowed.  All the shelves had tape over them like a police line.  No manchas guey - we were bummed that we couldn't even get beer for our beach picnic.  Nueva Vallarta is in a different state, Nayarit.  Not Jalisco like Puerto Vallarta is.  We were NOT going to drive all the way back to Jalisco, so just accepted that coke would be the drink of the day.  The only one bothered was Max i think.  He stopped in all the little villages and tried to find a bootlegger or someone's abuela (grandmother) who had some beer for sale, but to no avail. On the way, we got stuck in a big muddy tire rut, and all had to disembark.  Thankfully, a truck stopped by and the guys helped push us out.  How mexican to be so helpful.

All the way there, we had fun in the van, gabbing and for me it was such a language experience.  They were all so sweet to make sure I understood everything.  God, I should have taken notes. 

I was the only one who was NOT mexican on the whole beach and I made a conscious effort to stay under the umbrella and out of the sun.  It was mostly cloudly also, which I thought would be helpful.  The girls and I started making food, and I set things up on the sand to be comfy and organized.  Seafood ceviche, tuna with tomatoes, avocados, onions, mayo, on tostados. Also pork rinds in a vinaigrette salsa.  Very yummy.   I had made sure we'd got a papaya and I was the only one who ate it.  For them its like an apple would be for me.  Big deal, there are lots of them and they are boring.  People were shocked that I brought the stuff I did; like a knife, some plastic containers, paper towels, garbage bags, etc.  Thank god I did.  All those years of camping in the middle of nowhere have been useful I guess.  Had it not been for my stuff, we would not have had anything to eat out of!  "Wow, they said, we're so glad you thought of garbage bags.!"   Too funny.  There was nothing but wild beach there, no fresh water, or bathrooms or anything.  I did go into the water for 15 minutes or so, and at the end of the day, I was burned.  Yes, I got burned under an umbrella in the shade.  How embarrassing after almost 6 months in mexico.

It was fun and just nice to lie down and be.  My ipod and speakers were also a hit, and it was worth hauling that around for the last 5 months just for today.  There was a river behind us with a crocodile sign posted.  And a family with kids was hanging out by the river, swimming in it . You wouldn't catch me NEAR it.

At the end of the day, Max buried Luisa in the sand and well, it was my idea to sculp the big sand boobs on her.  She laughingly acquiesced and we all had a good chuckle.  So much to learn in one day. . . new words, new experiences, new music,  and new friends.  It was a real pleasure.  It also rained on the way home, and that evening looking out on the balcony, I had never see it pour down like it did. . . the streets were rivers.