AdiosUSA

I always push the important jobs to the last minute. Things always seem to work out, but it’s never worth the amount of stress I suffer in the end. I always claim that I work best under pressure but I’ve never even tried to get something done ahead of deadline so I have nothing to compare.

I’ve been back for three weeks. I spent too much time in San Francisco this year (10 weeks) but I’m glad I stuck around to make a little extra money. Here in Mexico they’re calling it “the crisis”. Prices are going up on everything and anybody involved in manufacturing products for the dead US consumer market is looking for a new job. Remittences (money sent back from the United States by family members) is plummeting. I had planned to buy a bicycle when I got back to the city but now I’m worried that I won’t have a job to go back to in SF so I may just sit on the money. I’ve got a few paying projects lined up here, I just have to get busy.
I’ve re-acculturated quickly but I’m stumbling in Spanish. My friend Monica helped me understand why it keeps getting worse. Years ago, when I lived in Costa Rica my Spanish was at its best, but here it has been deteriorating, the difference is that Mexicans are too polite to correct me. Every time I make a mistake that seems to be understood I repeat that mistake so often it becomes a permanent part of my speech. Ugh! I’m now insisting that my friends be unforgiving — we’ll see.

The election is part of every other conversation here. Universally Mexicans are pro Obama if for no other reason than Bush has been ignoring all of Latin America for eight years. There’s also hope that the anti-immigrant fever in the States will subside.

Day of the Dead festivities are in full force and will last through Sunday. Altars full of photos, candles and marigolds are popping up everywhere. Most galleries, museums, and cultural centers have their own artist-inspired “ofrendas”. But occasionally you just stumble upon one of these ephemeral masterpieces on a sidewalk, in a park, or on some steps entering a building. On Saturday (November 1st) hundreds of ofrendas will spring up and by Sunday evening they’ll all be gone. Most drinking establishments are capitalizing on the holiday with special parties but that’s not really part of the tradition. The Zocalo will be full of thousands of people checking out the ofrendas and giant Papier-mâché skeletons and listening to live music. This year there will be a demonstration of a pre-columbian ballgame played all over Mexico and Central America — even in Arizona.

Next week my friend Jeff will be visiting and later in the month, Elmer. After that I’m wondering if anyone who had planned to visit this winter will be willing to shell out the money. Plane tickets are around $500 and then there are the checked baggage charges, etc. But what could you need while you’re here that won’t fit in your carry-on? And a good beer is still about a dollar in the dives where I hang out and a four course lunch is only $3, so…

That’s my age, not my hat size.

I don’t go out all that much these days because I’m low on funds and frankly, my body can’t take it anymore. But a birthday is an exception. I loaded my pockets with every coin I could find (got no couch so no couch cushion treasure) and headed out on the most lovely night of the year. On the last Saturday of every March the streets are shut down in the city center and every nook and cranny becomes a stage for music, dance, theater, performance art, mimes, clowns, parades, circus acts… It’s about as magical as a city can get. My favorite is the second story balcony of an old palace where divas belt ‘em out while a hundred or so “commoners” gaze upward, listening in amazement and joyful tears. Even though the city’s three orchestras are brought out and there’s ballet in the street it’s not all long-haired music. The second largest plaza in El Centro was dedicated to rockabilly and surf music this year. I’m not sure even San Francisco could produce such an enormous cloud of pot smoke. In every little ally and pedestrian walkway there was a stage for madrigals and American folk singers, reggae, pop, punk, and even a goth rave (are goths capable of raving?). Several galleries had openings, art was beamed onto the sides of buildings, mono-colored living statues lined the streets, there were fire breathers, stilt walkers with gigantic wings, evil clowns (a new European study has shown that all clowns are evil!). The craziness began at 4PM and lasted until 4AM.

And so began my birthday. The next 24 hours were a succession of visits to old haunts where everyone said to me “Que milagro!!”. I wasn’t shy about declaring my new age and so everybody bought me drinks. There was even an impromptu birthday cake (cupcake) with candle and everything. I arrived home on Monday morning, birthday gift in hand and collapsed. I spent the next evening reading all my birthday email (none of which I’ve answered), then I collapsed again to wake up Tuesday morning still feeling the pain. But gosh was it worth it.