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.
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