Category — Mexico

So I had completely forgotten that an aunt of mine works for a Colima local newspaper and this morning she sent me one of their reporter’s findings on the cleanliness (or lack there of) of the water containers of the water bottling company Santorini.

How the word got out about this situation arose from several complaints made to the Santorini company about a strange smell from the water containers and that the water tasted like “mierda” (translation: “shitty”–no pun intended). An unauthorized self-proclaimed “lab-expert” did some studies and found that the fecal particles in the results exceeded the permitted limit. Santorini then considered the results and accusations as false because they did not come from the state’s health administration. The state’s health administration is in the process of revealing the results and soon we’ll know what the verdict is.

Chances are the results from the health administration will conclude that they in fact do not exceed the fecal particle limit permitted, but that’s exactly the problem, there shouldn’t even be a limit. I understand if it’s dust particles or pieces of plastic within the water. But fecal particles? Ok, somebody please fill me in and save me from my ignorance. My understanding is that fecal particles can only come from one place in the body, your culo. So either some frijolero in that company has a really bizarre fetish (with the water containers, machines, or both), or the containers are being returned like that by the consumer (which makes the fetish more probable behind their private closed door homes). I don’t think boiling my water will save me from this one

Mexico’s economy was first hit by the global crisis and people are still struggling with that alone. Then, with the whole narco-trafficking and killings throughout the country, not only was Mexico associated with terrorist countries like Pakistan, but several countries around the world were discouraging their citizens from visiting Mexico, hurting the tourist industry even more. Now, the whole swine flu crisis is slowly crippling Mexico. What the long term effects that will have on Mexico’s economy will be more clear once health experts determine whether or not they can control the flu. So far, it’s not looking good… I will suggest you get a “Payazaro Swine-Free Piggybank” and feed it regularly for me. If things don’t get better in Mexico, I may need it sooner rather than later.

I was thinking about the whole situation today and it really made me think of the movie “I Am Legend” with Will Smith and the whole plot behind finding the cure with a vaccine. Technically, this swine flu situation has not been declared a pandemic, but everyday it’s looking worse and worse. Though people infected with this flu are not becoming vampires or crazy/ugly looking monsters, it is slowly creating more social and global chaos. Others believe it’s another sign of the beginning of the end as mentioned in the Apocalypse. If it is, then this is definitely the least of our worries. One thing is for sure, there will be less kissing and hugging in the world and to do so comes with a risk. HIV (and then later on AIDS) will kill you several years down the road, but in our modern day world, a kiss of death is a reality. So the next time you pucker up and start smooching with that special someone and their breath and lips taste like chlorine, bleach, or antibacterial soap, you know you have someone who loves you.

The Swine flu is no laughing matter, and for some reason, people in Manzanillo are not taking it seriously. For those of you who may be worried about me, I’ll just say that I sneezed seven times today which could either be symptoms of some kind of flu or just another normal seven sneezes I get every single day

I have concluded that I have a multiple personality disorder and one of them happens to be “gringo”. His name is Larry and he’s definitely making my life difficult. Lets face it, Americans like to plan…EVERYTHING. I’m not saying this is detrimental, but it can limit your flexibility and improvisational skills, especially when you’re the only one operating that way.

When I was a kid I used to call myself the “Master of Disaster” not because I was creating it (which I did) but because I was really good at free-flowing stress-free in the midst of chaos. Now, after conditioning myself during college where I had to schedule everything–friends, sleep, classes, family, girlfriend, meals, even taking a dooky–it’s been a little difficult re-adjusting to my old ways especially with the added responsibility of being an adult.

Ever since I moved to Mexico, a watch has become nothing but a decoration on my wrist. Actually, I don’t even use one anymore. I’ve been stood up, forgotten about, and left waiting more in this past year than I have in my entire 16 years in the US. And I’ve tried “getting even” with some people just for the sake of it and even after getting to the destination late, I got there before them

I know this doesn’t speak highly of my beloved Mexico but I’ve learned to embrace this reality as a blessing rather than a curse. As a matter of fact, I feel like I’ve bonded more with my indigenous guardian angel who has allowed me look far out into the horizon and determine the time of the day based on the location of the sun. True story.

No matter what anybody says, you can always be more productive. I’ve had issues with people, family and co-workers about their attitude towards optimizing their time. When they stare back at me with a blank look, Larry wants to come out and give them a peace of his mind. But that’s the thing, Larry feels uncomfortable with an environment that is supposed to take care of itself and just let it be. It’s a different rhythm and style of going about your day in Mexico. You just gotta relax and go with the flow and be efficient when you can, which is something Larry is “tolerating” to do. If it weren’t for the fact that Larry hides as a personality within Payazaro, he would have been deported back to the US a loooooong time ago.

I’ve had the pleasure of hosting my grandmother and great-grandmother over the last few days and there is definitely something about our “modern” generation that has lost touch of the essential remedies of natural herbs and plant leaves.

We live in a world where there is a prescription or over-the-counter drug for almost everything. But have you ever asked yourself what people back in the day did when most of these drugs did not exist? How did they deal with toothaches, stomach pains, diarrhea, and regular cuts, sprains and swelling? Indigenous people had something for everything! And I’m not even talking about Curanderas or witches that claimed to remove “el chamuco” from your sinful soul, which to this day, is still widely used and practiced across many cultures around the world.

I am not arguing that herbal remedies should substitute modern medicine or that they are even more effective. However, we cannot completely dismiss this ancient realm of medicine as possible and inexpensive solutions to our modern illnesses (both psychological and physical–which some will argue is the same).

Why would I think about this when there is a recession to deal with and all my money to spend? Well, yesterday morning my grandmas were shuffling through my kitchen looking for tea, but not just any kind of tea. Before I could ask what kind of tea they were looking for, they both turned to me and said, “Mijo, ahorita venimos…” (“My dearest and most precious loving child, we’ll be right back…”) Before I knew it, they came back with leaves from ordinary trees and plants that I’m sure were at some point peeing stalls for the neighborhood dogs…shoot, even for me during late night emergencies after a late Friday and Saturday night of studying and drinking lots of healthy juice and somehow locking myself out of the house

The next minute, my great-grandmother hands me a hot cup of tea. Now if there’s anything about Mexican culture that can bite you in the ass, it’s saying “no” when you’re offered something to eat or drink, and the older they are the less of an option you have. So I drank it like a champ and immediately felt a boost of energy and alertness. To be honest, I don’t know what the hell I put in my body, and the outcome of drinking that tea cannot be a self-fulfilling prophesy effect because I was expecting the worst (fam, don’t tell my grandma!). But if my great-grandmother has been putting it in her tea for 80+ years and she’s still standing strong, then I think I will continue to drink it. More about this later…

Obama will be in Mexico April 16-17. His visit comes at a very important time when drug-trafficking and immigration reform are being debated on both sides. It will be interesting to see what results from the presidents’ talks. Obama has his plate full of promises and a difficult road ahead. For Obama to deliver on all of his promises would be like the US having a Black presi…oh wait…Yes we can! Yes we can!

You know, I’ve always thought about what the presidents really talk about behind closed doors and how they talk about it. I mean, seriously, they control their countries. Perhaps Calderon (Mexican President) will trade 15 tons of marijuana for 15 thousand illegal immigrants to “cross” unnoticed? Maybe Obama will be like, “what the hell is wrong with Carlos Slim (the richest man in the world, who is also Mexican)? Look what our Bill Gates is doing.” One thing is for sure: they need to cut the political pretentious bullshit and implement realistic policies that are beneficial to BOTH countries. So far Obama has walked the walk. We can only “hope” that he keeps it up and serves as an example for the rest of the leaders around the world.

If you google frijolero, you will find two things: 1) Molotov’s youtube video from their hit track “frijolero” ; and 2) Wikipedia’s definition of the term which is the following: a derogatory term for a person of Mexican/Latin American descent.

First, Molotov’s video does illustrate many of the sad realities present at the US/Mexico border. This kind of sentiment stems and comes from actual events and experiences of people that extend beyond the US/Mexico border. The fact that Molotov spent a lot of money and time to make a song and video about the term says a lot about the potential sting of the term.

Second, why does the term frijolero have to be derogatory? Why can’t it be a term of endearment or a word you use to promote ethnic/racial pride and bonding? Well, it is. What wikipedia fails to point out is not only the intent of the word, but whom it’s coming from. You see, the term only becomes derogatory or a racial slur whenever an outsider (someone who is not Mexican or Latin/American) uses it with the intent to offend or be disrespectful. And even then, they won’t call you “free-ho-le-row”, but instead will call you “beaner”. That is when you hear a symbolic disc jokey scratch the hell out of the vinyl record.

Third, if a Mexican or Latin American uses the term “beaner” while reffering to another fellow frijolero, then they probably have beef with the frijolero (man, this is starting to sound like a potluck…beef and beans, I’m getting hungry). Though Latin Americans tend to have their inter-ethnic conflicts with one another, there will come a time when Molotov is gonna have to come out with their new hit single: “Don’t call me frijolero you f@#$’n beaner.”

Personally, when I use the term frijolero, I use it with the intention to literally point out the fact that I love beans. Gracias a Dios, for me, eating beans is a choice and not an obligation. And as my little cousin says, “If you love beans that much, then why don’t you marry them?” You know, if I could I would

From the title of the post, you probably thought I was referring to the sad reality that many women face with their beloved men. Unfortunately, I will not be addressing the pre-ejaculation dilemma in this post.

Instead, I have provided a video that portrays the atrocious “reality” that our dear patriotic US citizens protecting our US/Mexico border are facing. For those of you who don’t know, this group operates under the name “Minuteman Project.” Because immigration officials obviously can’t do their job alone, private citizens have for many years now graciously taken matters into their own hands and are enforcing immigration law.

Below you will find the preview of a documentary to be aired soon on the history channel detailing the accounts of the attempted invasion of illegals and terrorists in the country and the heroic protection and defense of the Minuteman Project. Have a look…

Given that all my family, friends, and acquaintances know that I lived in the US most of my life, they have at many times asked me if “así son todas las gringas locas?” (“are all the crazy gringas like that?”). I can’t help but laugh whenever I’m asked this by my aunts so I ask them to explain their question. It doesn’t take long for me to understand what they keep referring to and their response can be summed up in the picture below:

Apparently, my aunts keep seeing gringa boobies or else they would just dismiss whatever exhibitionist moment they were exposed to as a random event.

My aunts are only a few of the millions of non-Americans around the world that cater to the parties and spring break bashes of college students. But for some reason, only “crazy gringas” are ever remembered for this kind of event. Whether or not you can do something about educating the locals who are hosting and welcoming you to their country during your vacation is not my point. It’s understandable that you flew several hundreds of miles to get shit-faced in tropical beaches where the beer is in fact stronger. I understand and so do the dudes and chicks you made out with at the party the night before. However, before you point the finger and cry out “they don’t understand!”, think about where that “crazy gringa/o” perception is coming from.

This is not a lecture, but just an FYI.

You may now go back to your Brazilian wax and continue to drown yourself  in all the tequila and coronas you can handle. We will gladly take your dollars in exchange for that experience.

Oh, and remember, it’s pretty easy to forget that you’re a Rhodes Scholar and soon to be Harvard alumni when your last morning in Mexico ended up like this…

So I just got back from my city league basketball game and I always get reminded of how crudely honest or blunt coaches are with their players. I can never take my coach serious when he turns to me and yells, “Hijo de la chingada! Pasa el pinche balón pendejo! Chingada Madre!”. I’m not even gonna translate that. Even non-Spanish speakers can feel the love of those words. And no matter what I do he’ll still yell and swear. I can dunk the ball from the half-court line over the entire defense and he’ll still yell, “Vez? Vez Pendejo? Tenías a tu compañero abierto en la esquina!” (translation: “You see! You see dumb ass! You had your teammate wide open on the corner!”). But I’m not a kid and those words don’t phase me.

There’s this coach in particular that is in charge of the kid’s city league team. He runs the program so maybe that’s why he gets away with it. But he talks to these kids like if he gave birth to them and they owe him the price and gift of life. “Hijo de la chingada, te voy a partir tu pinche madre!” What trips me out is that he’ll do this in front of their parents! I definitely feel like a gringo for reacting like this… This would definitely not fly in the US and I love it

To the motherland. Not the mother of motherlands (Africa), but the wonderful port of Manzanillo, Colima (México). The sailfish capital of the world! I’m going to limit my description of Manzanillo in this post because you will come to learn much about it through the many posts that are yet to come. If you’re ancy pancy to know, google it

I will say a few things to give you some context of when, where, and why.

Manzanillo is located on the west coast of the state of Colima. I was born here and moved to the US when I was 7 years old, so when deciding to move back to México, it made sense to come to the only place that I “knew” as a kid. I bought my one-way ticket and bizounced out of Seattle on February 23rd. Why did I move back? If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. Seriously. But for now, I will say that it was time to come back and explore my identity, culture, roots, purpose(s) in life and recharge my soul in an environment that was not the US (Ironically, little did I know that as soon as my cousin would pick me up at the Manzanillo airport he would take me to Wal-Mart to grab a bite to eat. Looking back to that day, I should have slapped him).