Once Upon a Time in Mexico

Headed to Tapachula, Mexico over the weekend for tourism (*cough, cough, to renew my visa, cough*) now that I have extended my stay in Guatemala till 4 June.

Tiff and Piper also went, but the school they work for provided them with a private bus, and I got wage my way on the jewels of Guatemalan culture (AKA: the chicken buses) to cross the border like a local. On these solo missions, one can't help but feel like the white-bred accountant at the Wu-Tang concert; for the entire journey, I was the only gringa within ear shot (or flea-hopping distance, as it were).

In total, I had to make 4 "connections," which is a daunting task when more than half the time the bus drivers are out to screw you out of money, or change courses, or steer you in the wrong direction. The joy they receive from the latter I imagine rivals the amusement you got when you were little: blindfolding the runt of the neighborhood, spinning him around in circles, and then watching him try to walk a straight line. Luckily I was more or less adopted by a Mexican family who were also headed for the border.

Another great thing about the chicken buses: I get to hear the gospel at least once during each ride. There always seems to be at least one pastor in the mix who received a message from on high, and gets up to start preaching like a baptist the day before the rapture. These prove to be great opportunities for my vocab-building. I can learn the ever-popular phrases like "swallowed up by flames from below" and "bastard children," in case I ever decide I would like to become a raging conservative (which we all know is about as likely as seeing Barry Manilow actually come out the door of the men's restroom).

After I crossed the border, I had to walk a grip to catch a bus to Tapachula. Along this (rather uncomfortable, sweltering hot) trip, I came across a women sitting in her car. When she saw me walking by myself, she yelled out the window:

"What you doing here?"

"Meeting up with some friends. In Tapachula," I said.

"Oh, but you here by you self?"

"Yeah, for the moment." Thanks for reminding me.

Turns out she smuggles cars to the States from Nicaragua and (somehow) finds a way to cough up enough English to live in Sacramento. In the on-going movie that plays in my mind, she would probably be cast in the part of Tumnus (albeit the latina, car-smuggling, much less inviting version).

For those of you who have the dirtier Mexican towns as a point of reference, I'll tell you that they are kind of like Guatemala, just cleaner and less expensive (two things I previously didn't understand to be inversely proportional).

After a night of hanging out with Tiff and Piper in the city, we had to turn around and head back the next morning. This time one of the guys from the trip headed back with me on the chicken bus so I wouldn't have to make the journey alone.

Hopping from bus to bus back to Xela, we met one old gentlemen who insisted on serenading us with all the "Viva Mexico!" songs he could think of. Bless his little heart, he must have been short on his PoliGrip; in between verses he would have to rearrange his teeth, then pick them up off his lap when he finished his song with some hearty, Mexican jajaja laughter.

About an hour outside Xela, I was sitting behind and indigenous woman, who was throwing all her trash outside the window (another unfavorable Guatemalan custom). Most of her unwanted baggage ended up in my hair, or on my face and my lap, including the huge loogie she decided to spit outside the window.

Still wet from that and desperately wanting some mouthwash and a shower, I got home to realize that I had left my keys with Tiff and Piper. In a moment of total determination (read: frustration), I picked apart the glass plates of our 18" x 2.5' wide bathroom window that is 6' off the ground and shimmied my way to a shower. If Kevin had been there to see it, I am quite sure he would have humored me and said, "Guatemalan McGiver she is!"

Way down here you need a reason to move
Feel a fool running your stateside games
Lose your load, leave your mind behind

Jimmy Taylor, truer words have never been spoken.