In Mexico for a week and now my suitcase smells like beer, salt water, sunblock, and vaguely like somebody maybe crumbled cotija cheese into my clothes.
In Mexico, Zoey called every kid she saw either Dora or Diego depending on gender and general coif of the hair. Sshhh! I said, spreading zinc across my nose and wishing I didn't burn before all else. I like the way they pronounce my name there all slippery alveolar fricative sexy.
In Mexico I noticed that the people really seem to like uniforms, whistles, plastic bags for every purchase, that they pay no mind to overlapping music blaring horns, guitar, cumbia y salsa, todos más reggaetón. Although I am fairly neutral on uniforms I really despise whistles and music over music over people; plastic bags make me sad.
In Mexico I also learned that the people there like shouting woot! woot! while swimming. Though to be fair this might just apply to people from Chicago who just so happen to be vacationing in Mexico as each afternoon there was a water aerobics class populated mostly by a group from the windy city staying in Ixtapa for The Anglers Association of Something Fishy, and yes, I am aware that this is a run-on sentence no bueno, but honestly--a group of adults standing waist deep in a pool whilst circling their arms for an hour is a run-on sentence in and of itself, it just is. Woot! Woot! Patron Saint of Please: Don't Ever Let Me Say Woot Woot Outloud.
In Mexico I noticed that the people there seem to like sugar as much as I do, daquiris and helado, dulce de everything, gum, candy, fruit, horchata, the names nothing to be ashamed of with r's that roll right into my tummy to siesta, the sounds of it all, azúcar. Pesos seem like play money; I got an hour massage plus 30 minute facial for $45. Also? I stumbled my way through Spanish and received nothing but kindness. I bought this and it smells like spring.In Mexico I ate chilaquiles for breakfast, swam in the pool with Zoey, bodysurfed with Bryan in the ocean. All day long we sat in beach chairs and read, ordered cervezas, guacamole, swam, napped, read, swam, showered then went to dinner. At night I could not sleep because the piano bar in the hotel lounge played too loudly: Mariah Carey, Billy Joel, Dos Gardenias para ti... George Michaels.In Mexico I wished I could say mi amor without feeling like a fraud. ¿Listos? I said. Sin carne, no gracias, las ondas son hoy grandes, si. Sometimes I slipped, s'il vous plait. Still I called her sweetiepea, petunia face, chachi, love.
(My apologies for the craptastic comment moderation while I was gone. Internet at the hotel was you've got mail slow, and checking from my iphone meant "substantial roaming fees" which, quite frankly, scared the palm oil outta' me. I dropped a lot and deleted a few. ~Shannon? On the Sunshine post? I think? That was the sweetest comment and I hit reject rather than publish--mierda.~ Also--I'm turning on word verification only because I have to reject roughly 25 spam comments a day as I'm fairly certain you all don't care about cialiscialiscialis, Miley Cyrus nude or random words bolded like a Richie Rich comic book. If I am wrong just let me know and I'll forward them along...)