abril: my Mexico

This was a letter I wrote on Sunday, April 14th, and sent home. More or less catching-up, but also a story of the Mexico that I have grown to love. Many of my days blend together in the daily routine of my jobs but the weekends bring the unexpected moments and surprises that encapsulate "my Mexico." Now that I know the letter was received, I'm sharing it with you all too:


Hello from Mexico!

Things here in Mexico are going great. I am back into my routine of things and although the weeks are flying by, there is also a return to monotony of my work that I find sluggish after so many whirlwind visits and excursions between January and the end of March. But así es, that’s how it goes. To avoid the boredom of returning to that routine I’m re-energized some of my interest in starting new projects and getting creative in my job sites.

Outside of my jobs, life is anything but monotonous. Today was a chaotic but fun day that made me smile – it was a typically atypical day. It all started this morning when Marce and I were chatting over some coffee and sweet bread. She wanted to go to mass, but looked at the clock as it struck 11 – the beginning of the service. She shrugged and decided not to go. Not a Catholic to ever skip a weekly mass, she then began pondering other possibilities for the two of us… wait, I’m going too? We decided to go to a Mariachi-music mass near the downtown that was a recent recommendation from one of Marce’s friends and longaniza (Mexican sausage) clients. We couldn’t remember what time it started, 12 or 12:30. Always a US-American at heart, I suggested going at 12 just in case. So we showed up at one of the numerous churches downtown at 12:10, not entirely sure we were at the right one. Of course, Marce had no idea exactly which church we were going to – those details are rarely discussed here in the Mexican planning process. Additionally, the church was surprisingly empty. Marce asked a woman who confirmed that yes, mass has mariachi music and it starts at 12. Good good. We sat down and started to wait. People started to shuffle in. The mariachi band started to arrive and tune their instruments. Then some church members started scuttling about and preparing the altar, the pulpit, and the sound system. Marce asked another group of ladies who told us that service actually starts at 12:30 and Marce’s friend hasn’t been there for a few weeks. At 12:40 the mass started. I couldn’t help but think to myself about implanting this situation in the US. It would never happen. There would be phone calls between friends throughout the week to confirm the invitation and arrange a meeting time before or after the service. Times of the mass would be double and triple checked. Mariachi would probably not be headlining a local church service. And I can’t think of many US-Americans that are patient enough with the situation to just wait it out without a murmur of complaint or worry about the other “things that I could be doing.” Huh. But as I’m singing Padre Nuestro (the Lord’s Prayer) I am reminded that I am not in the US; I’m in Mexico. This unpredictability and uncertainty happens and it happens a lot. I’ve learned to live with the spontaneity and sometimes-illogical way of life. It turned out to be a good service and Marce was happy she went and I was happy to accompany her.

This afternoon was another example of the constantly changing “plans” for the day. Phone calls started happening this morning and Marce and I invited everyone to come to the house for the watching of the most important national soccer game of the year, El Clásico, between América from Mexico City and las Chivas from Guadalajara. Later rather than sooner Marce and I started getting the food ready and the family started showing up. About ten minutes before scheduled kick-off the power goes out in our neighborhood. What to do?! Wait it out? Not even mentioned. Try to find a bar? Discussed as a possibility, but eventually passed over and forgotten. Well, what about another house? In the meanwhile Victor pulled up their car, which fortunately has a TV inside that picked up a static-y channel playing the big game. *Whew* we hadn’t missed the start yet – the start actually happened a half an hour or so later… perhaps misunderstanding of start time or perhaps some of Mexican tardiness, I’ll never know. I patiently listened to the short debate - best for me to just tag along in these situations and not ask questions. So I just followed the pack as all ten of us piled into the Nissan Exterra and headed up to Victor and Gini’s house. A liter-sized bottle of beer had been opened at Marce’s house, was taken with us, finished, and replenished on the drive. After the game, all ten of us once again piled into the car to drive us home. The family dropped me and Marce off outside of our alleyway in Chipitlan. We had barely opened the door and put down our things when we realized in the meantime they all decided to stay for a bit at Marce’s and have something to eat. Why not? It was only 11pm on a Sunday night. I was tired and wanted to go to bed but the Mexico that I live in is one of food, spending time together and a hospitality that transcends clocks and exhaustion. Oh well.

Today was an example of the sometimes endearing and sometimes frustrating moments of my life in Mexico. Things here are unpredictable, unplanned and often inefficient. But these experiences are always worth the detours and never worth complaints. I come to find that the unexpected experiences are the often ones that make the best memories. Don’t ask when or where or why… just grab a window seat and enjoy the ride. So is my Mexico, and I don’t think I would have it any other way.