Category — Manzanillo

1) You love me

2) The Dollar/Peso conversion is so good right now, you can buy a kidney for 10 dollars.

3) Every day you’re turning paler in the freezing cold up north and that is not sexy.

4) You never have to check the forecast… IT’S ALWAYS HOT AND HUMID!

5) If you’re looking for a date, I have hundreds of cousins to choose from. Seriously.

6) Manzanillo is one of the safest cities in all of México…well, except for the last five dead bodies that have been found in the last couple of months, but still! I got yo back!

7) Our ocean is filled with so many fish, you can dive in grizzly bear style and catch several fish with your bare hands…with or without claws!

8 ) In case you start to freak out with a panic attack and have home-withdrawals, we have Wal-Mart, Subway, Starbucks, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Burger King, Office Depot, and Dairy Queen all within two blocks!

9) If you don’t like it, you can always get the hell out and go to Puerto Vallarta a few hours down the road.

10) I won’t be here for long

I’ve never been the kind of person to make solo trips, but ever since I moved down to Mexico, it began a new trend for me. There’s nothing like flying down to your destination spot but when a one-way ticket costs almost the same as the roundtrip, busing down for a fourth of the price becomes a very attractive option. From Manzanillo to the Guatemalan border, it only cost me around 110 dollars. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Not when you have to sit for a total of 29 hours! I don’t care how clean a bus restroom may be, I will do whatever I can to avoid using it. Fortunately, the remnants of my fraternity drinking and bladder holding days are still holding strong.

It’s been a long time since my hustler days in the streets of Yakavegas, and when you’re wearing bourgeois frameless glasses, and look a little Asian, you can become an easy target for “border hustlers.” Border hustlers are those locals that wake up at the butt-crack of dawn with their thick stacks of bills in different currencies to exchange with ignorant tourists. They also offer immigration processing services in exchange for a tip even though they’re not legally authorized to do so. If you’ve never traveled by bus through any border, perhaps you’ve experienced this at the flea market in Mexico City, or any city with people that swarm you and overwhelm you with their presence and whatever the hell they’re trying to sell you or get you to see. After getting little to no sleep in the previous weeks, the bus situation did not make me a tender and loving person. I almost punched a guy for touching me. You can yell at my direction, dance naked in front of me, and even crouch down and take a dooky in front of me, but when you touch me, I may forget who Jesus Christ is ☺  I also find it particularly funny when they lie to you just so that they can get their hands on your dollars. I’m not trying to make them sound like bad people. It’s survival of fittest out there, but I guess I struggle between giving people the benefit of the doubt (and getting screwed over) and assuming they’re evil people when they have good intentions.

The bus eventually headed to El Salvador and arrived later that afternoon in San Salvador. The Ticabus company has a bus station hostel which makes it convenient for showering and getting a bit of rest on a real bed before another 10 hour bus ride. I almost got the shaft in El Salvador with my bus reservation to Nicaragua. The regular ticket price is 30 US dollars and it leaves at 5 am and arrives at 5pm, while the executive ticket costs 44 US dollars and departs at 2am and arrives at noon in Nicaragua. As a backpacker, every dollar spent must be wisely spent and after sitting all those hours on the bus, the 5-hour difference was definitely worth the 14 dollars.

They say San Salvador has a really dangerous street night-life and I must say that I was a bit disappointed when I went for a stroll for beer and found the streets rather peaceful. That night I met Mauricio, a very interesting character from Italy at the bus station. He had a mustache like Captain Hook from the Peter Pan movies and spoke perfect Mexican Spanish with a Captain Jack-like accent from the movie Pirates of the Caribbean. He was as loopy too!  He was telling me about his travels back and forth between Panama and Mexico when he’s not working as a chef on a sail boat that takes tourists through the San Blas Islands between Panama city and Cartagena, Colombia. Was it a coincidence that I was planning on making that sailing trip as soon as I arrived to Panama and now had met someone that was sure to make that trip fun? We exchanged contact information and I look forward to seeing Mauricio later this August.

Hello my peeps, long time since Payazaro has given any love to his blog. I’m gonna do a better job of putting some more posts with the latest shenanigans of my current adventure. As I mentioned in my last post, I decided to peace out from Mexico and visit family in Nicaragua. I was once told that, “in this life, the only thing guaranteed is death.” Tomorrow is not promised, yesterday cannot be changed, and even though the present can be dictated by so many external factors out of our control, we nonetheless can select the direction our life will take. Unfortunately, sometimes that requires a passport.

I don’t understand people that get a passport and never use it. If you read the previous sentence with a sense of guilt, either use it or at least open it up every day and see your pretty little face because you just paid a lot of money for a one-picture album.

A couple of months ago I met an Australian couple and hosted them in Manzanillo for a couple of days. From our first interactions, I couldn’t help but notice that I felt conflicted with what they represented and where I stood in life at that moment. Let me explain…

Sometimes in life what we do is deliberate, other times where we go and what we do can be serendipitous. This Ozzie couple had worked a solid 6 months to save up around 40 thousand Australian dollars between the two of them. Their plan was to travel for a year non-stop around the world and surf the many waves this world has to offer. By the time they got to Manzanillo, they had already visited most of Europe, South America, Central America, Southern Mexico, and were on their way to the US. They created their own circumstances and took all the steps necessary to make sure their goal was made a reality. That, my friends, is as deliberate as you can get. Payazaro, on the other hand, had just come to terms with losing his job and not being able to attend his sister’s wedding. After a month hiatus of introspective analysis (and surprisingly little to no beer), I realized that the circumstances imposed on me were 1) obviously unplanned, and 2) a serendipitous opportunity to take a summer trip of a lifetime. What’s the difference between the Ozzie couple and myself? They have 40 G’s and their trip is a year-long. Other than that, this world is truly for each and every one of us to conquer.

Coincidently, the day I made up my mind that I would take off for the summer, I found the journal my high school mentor gave me the summer before my freshmen year in college. It had two journal entries in the last 6 years with only two pages filled with writing. My high school mentor would be so proud ☺ The second journal entry, however, documented an important message I left myself and had forgotten about. I was debating to take a week trip to visit one of my best friends in Boston. The only thing keeping me from doing it was money. In the journal read the following:

“Money comes and goes, but experiences and explorations plant the seeds that last a lifetime. I started looking at plane ticket prices today and have decided that I will purchase mine. I have limited myself many times by being unselfish. But you know, sometimes you gotta be. If you don’t take care of yourself, who will? Those around you who love you will love you, but they have their own lives to live, as do you. How do you wanna live it? Investing in your future at times means investing right now. You don’t know what person you’re gonna meet, what place you’re gonna go to, what experience you’re gonna have, who will say something significant to you, how you will react and how that’s going to shape the person you’re gonna become or be…”

Looking back, that trip was more than I expected and it cemented a life-long friendship with a close friend that eventually came to visit me in Manzanillo. Money was also the only thing keeping him from coming. Perhaps we were a little broke or had to really limit our expenses afterward, but the experience and memories obtained were invaluable. With this in mind, I no longer felt guilty about using some of my savings for a trip like this. I have no doubt it will definitely be worth it. Professional goals will be temporarily postponed. Besides, I had actually forgotten about my lab-rat-like ability to improvise and always find my cheese at the end of the maze. I always have and always will.

Growing up in Washington State where agriculture is a huge part of the local economy, getting my hands on certain types of fruit was not a problem. My parents to this day work in warehouses or “bodegas” where apples, oranges, cherries, pears and nectarines are sorted, packed and shipped throughout the world. Which reminds me of a joke I once heard a standup comedian say about the profession of his family members: “My family is filled with boxers. (brief pause) We box apples, we box pears, we box any fruit that comes through work.”

Either way, if you were Latino in the Yakima Valley and you were caught buying any of the fruit I just mentioned, meant that you were either from out of town or were middle/upper class. As a matter of fact, you were made fun of if you publicly admitted to buying an apple. Talk about the pressures of holding onto the migrant identity! I still remember my friends and I joking about the apples the school cafeteria would include in the lunch and we would say, “I bet you my dad probably picked this apple.” Sad, but most likely, true I guess you can even consider it a “perk” of the job to have access to all these fruits for a very cheap price, if not for free.

Everyone and their mother had at least one relative that worked in the industry and had access to the fruit. Every once in a while I did see Latinos buying these fruit from the store even when the fruit was in season. Given the assumption I and the rest of the migrant families in the area operated by, perhaps these Latinos did want to distinguish themselves as non-migrant by publicly buying fruit. I’m overgeneralizing here, but it’s still a valid point. I guess there were Latinos who had grown out of the migrant worker family background.

However, everyone, regardless of race, considered tropical fruit a luxury–pineapples, bananas, kiwis, papayas, mangoes, and even avocados. That’s right, the avocado is a fruit. I had to re-educate myself on that one. If it has a seed, it is a fruit. It’s really ridiculous how expensive these fruit can be at groceries store in the US. I remember the last time I bought an avocado at a US store they were selling them 2 for 5 dollars and they were advertising that like if it were a deal! It actually was.

Moving to Mexico has reversed the scenario for me. I have had more mangoes and avocados this year than I have in my lifetime. For the most part, all the mangoes have been free (when they’re in season). Even when they’re not, they’re pretty cheap. I can easily buy two avocados for a dollar and the other fruit is relatively cheap as well. Granted, I am closer to the tropics where this fruit is grown and the standard of living that determine the price make sense.

It really hit me one day when I went over to my cousin’s place of work. They have several trees filled with mangoes, coconuts and avocados. I took a bag and after putting like 10 avocados and 15 mangoes in my bag, I realized that would have been like 50 dollars in the US. Bendito sea Dios for free fruit.

Apparently, there is supposed to be a hurricane coming through here pretty soon. As a matter of fact, it’s been a little too quiet in the last couple of hours. The kind of peaceful breeze and rain that makes you want to cuddle with the closest person next to you. I live alone so my basketball has been getting some extra loving. But I don’t know if it’s really gonna hit or just pass on by and leave Manzanillo untouched.

Anyways, I think it will be my first hurricane since I was a kid, and even then, I don’t remember it. But I always remember watching the news from the Pacific Northwest in Washington State of drastic natural disasters throughout other parts of the world. Many people dying, communities destroyed, and a lot of reconstruction and social repair left at the hands of many who have been stripped of everything but their faith.

It’s really interesting how humanity works. We are driven by competitiveness and look for ways to stand out from the crowd regardless of where we live. But when a natural disaster strikes or is about to strike, there is a sense of common understanding and collective identity in facing good ol’ mother nature that is indiscriminate to your race, age, sex, religion and whatever other social categories we humans have created.

Why is Payazaro being so surrrrrrious? Chill out peeps, I’m not being surrrious, just bonding with my sense of self and appreciating my role within humanity. Why wait until your house gets destroyed by a hurricane (which is possible in the near future for me) and you’re left helpless and vulnerable in the streets? Will you be a selfish sumumabish and not help me?

OK, enough seriousness for one day. What I really need to do is stock up on beer like a friend suggested. Mexico is a party land where the beers are ever-flowing at all times of the year, but I have a feeling the liquor stores will be closing even if they don’t want to. Even with all this rain it’s still pretty hot and humid.

This is the flooded street in front of my house:

I believe everyone has seen a cockroach aka “roach” at some point in their life. They’re ugly crawling critters that have roamed this earth probably long before Adam and Eve. Roaches have no boundaries and no matter how many you step on, they will come back. The rainy season is about to hit Manzanillo and I couldn’t help but notice how many roaches came out of the sewer last year around this time. I feel like they breed 9 months of the year and prepare for a 3 month war with mankind.

Whenever I step on one I can’t help but think about that Indiana Jones scene where he and his sidekick are exploring a cavern filled with roaches and the kid says, “I feel like I’m stepping on fortune cookies”. I guess they do make that kind of crunch sound. But even stepping on them is not a guaranteed kill. They are the masters of playing dead. I’ve often left a roach “dead” in my patio for the rest of its homies to see what they’re dealing with only to come back an hour later and see it gone! Cutting their heads won’t do the job because they are known to survive up to 9 days without their heads! Who in the hell discovered this? One thing is for sure, some scientist had to prove it for it to become a fact.

According to an uncle of mine, you can freeze a roach and once it unfreezes it will come back to life and run away the first chance it gets. I’ve been tempted to try it but too disgusted in attempting to catch one and keeping it alive. Imagine it’s tiny little hairs and multiple legs wiggling and rubbing on your hand and then have it crawl across your arm and potentially into your mouth! Ok, maybe not, but I fear that potentially happening to me.

My high school teacher once told me a roach could survive a nuclear war. I hope we never find out http://www.roachcom.net/rofacts/ is filled with crazy facts about roaches but my favorite is the following: “When a male cockroach is interested in a female, he gives her a wrapped gift and takes her out to dinner–well, sort of. Males transfer sperm to females in a nice, “gift wrapped” package called a spermatophore. Some males cover the package in a protein-rich wrapping that she can eat (yum!) to obtain nutrients to raise her young.” Hmmm…Awesome?

I remember American peeps in the US would apply the “illegal immigration dilemma” to the roach infestation occurring in the US. Excuse me? You cannot blame Mexicans for that problem. Why? Two words: “fluttering wings.” Our breed of Mexican roaches indeed fly with grace to any home they want. But NEVER, I repeat, NEVER did I see a flying roach in the US. I’m even willing to go as far as making the statement that it’s American laziness that’s actually rubbing off on THEIR roaches. The suckers are too lazy to fly. Take that! OK, I feel better. The process of writing this post has allowed me to bond with my fellow Mexican roach. I might just pardon the death of one lucky roach, enslave it and keep it tied with a string to a nail in the middle of my patio. I’ve always wanted a house pet and that just might do It’s free, small, low maintenance, and replaceable!

If there is one thing that can define a Mexican or Latino, it’s our ability to eat spices and peppers. As a matter of fact, it strengthens our Latino Heat and intensifies it through our auras. Spices can be traced back to our ancestors and its uses in traditional Mexican cuisine is long standing and very much alive today. I still remember eating basic beans and rice as a kid with a spoon on my right hand and a very spicy green pepper on my left hand. I was around 5 or 6 years old and as I would bite the green pepper my mouth and lips would start throbbing with life. The spicier the pepper, the more my mouth and lips lit on fire and the more enjoyable the meal. I remember sitting outside on the sidewalk after the meal, facing the ground with my mouth open and tongue sticking out slowly waiting for the sting and burn of the peppers to cool off and fade away. Now I understand why dogs do the same during the summer months

Mexicans put spices on everything! That’s right, and it tastes really good too! We put spice on candy, fruits, chips, even beer. As a matter of fact, it is quite common to see kids eating “chile” alone from their palm as a snack! I remember those days and boy do I miss them…

But I must confess that I can no longer handle it. I love the taste of spices and the flavor it provides to many meals. The thing is that I have no problem consuming and tasting spices so the “coming in” process is completely fine. The problem is the process of it coming out! You may be thinking, “Payazaro, that is TMI (too much information)!” but it’s really important to think about issues like this. Where did this problem come from and why?! I’ve always had a sensitive stomach but spices were like oxygen to my tummy. Part of the Mexican identity is that we can handle all the spices and chili peppers the world has to offer. We embrace them and desperately look for them. However, there comes a time when a body just decides it no longer wants to process a certain food or ingredient like it used to. Like a digestive divorce and it aint’ goin’ back! I’m not even 30 and my body is already breaking down! This side effect crept up on me like lactose intolerance does to others. But at least those people can drink soy milk and other lactose free products. You can’t get a pseudo spice! That’s like having Michael Jackson replace the leader of the Ku Klux Klan!

Reimmersing myself back into Mexico has been tough in this regard. Whenever I visit family, it is expected that their meals will have spices. Whenever I tell my aunts if they could lay off the spice just a bit I get shit for it. They act like it makes me less Mexican. They’ll tell me, “If that’s what happens when you go to the US, then I don’t ever want to go!”

Leave me alone people, my stomach can’t take it anymore. I think the eagle on the Mexican flag should have a chipotle pepper rather than a snake. It would be more accurate.