MAZATLAN, MEXICO
Wed, 25 Feb 2004
Okay...
First of all, to everyone who replied to my last email by calling me a bitch, or a brat, or telling me to go fuck myself:
Ha ha suckers!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm still here and you're still not!
To everyone else: I love you dearly.
Carnaval just ended, and things are getting back to normal. Where do I begin? It was basically an entire week of noise. Oh the noise noise noise NOISE! (They banged their gardinkers, they tinked their who-tinkers....) Seriously, I was starting to feel a bit grinchy towards the end, truth be told - but you'll understand when I tell you about the music...more on that later.
The whole town was swarmed with people - tourists come from all over Mexico for this thing. (Not to mention all the Americans and goddamned pesky Canadians.) Stages were built all over the place, though apparently less than last year, when there were so many stages that nobody could distinguish the band they were trying to listen to from all the other stuff going on. People complained, so they scaled it back a bit. The Malecon was packed with people all the time, and huge groups of military police were everywhere, which was disconcerting at first, but I got used to it. Plazuela Machado, the plaza a block away from where I'm staying, was nuts a lot of the time too. Workers spent the week previous to Carnaval building up the four streets surrounding the square plaza in the centre with planks of wood, to make everything the same height and the plaza that much bigger, so that all of the restaurants on the square could put out huge patio cafés, taquerias, bars, etc. The bandstand in the centre always had somebody playing. Things wouldn't die down until six every morning, and by then the daytime people would be up and going about their noisy days.
Day one was the "burning of bad humour", which I had mistakenly thought was going to be a ritual in which everyone burned some personal token of negativity in a big bonfire. But, as it turns out, the town chooses (I don't know who votes on this) one big representative of "mal humor", and burns it. So this year, burned in effigy, was....Arnold Shwarzenegger. I AM NOT JOKING. Unfortunately, I didn't know about this until it was too late, so I didn't get a picture of the burning Ahnold. Damn. By the way, what the hell is "bad humour" anyway? Somebody?
That night, also, was the fireworks battle. This is a reenactment of a battle in which the French tried to take Mazatlán, in the mid-nineteenth century, and were defeated. A ship representing the French comes within view of all the spectators lining the sea wall, shooting off fireworks from its deck, and another ship closer to shore, represents Mazatlán, and fires back. More fireworks join in from the beach, everybody goes nuts, you get the picture. I was watching all this from the roof of a house on the corner of the Malecón, so had a great view. Sam, an old expat American guy, had invited a whole bunch of people to watch from his roof. I went along with my innkeeper, Tony, and soon realized that I was one of about six people present who were under sixty. I shouldn't have been surprised, as the expat community is by and large made up of retirees, and I didn't expect to meet a lot of young travellers here.
Anyway, I was happy to meet the other five, two guys in their forties and their kids, and quickly latched onto them for the evening. (The Under Sixty Six, taking the town by storm!) We took off from the party for awhile and made our way down into the crowds. Entering the Malecón, we had to buy tickets and then go through a crowd of military police, as usual. But we couldn´t figure out at first why I alone was getting pulled out of line and waved to the other side of the street. Did I look that suspicious? The cops then explained that it was women on one side, men on the other. I breezed through, a female officer looking through my bag, and then noticed that, on the other side of the street, the guys were getting frisked on their way in by a long line of tough-looking male cops. (That's right, Kelli, they frisk-ed them.) They wouldn't let me in that line, though I begged and begged...
After fighting the crowds with these folks for an hour or two, taking pictures, the kids buying everything that lit up or made noise or was edible (or all three - woo hoo!) that they could get their hands on, we went back up to the roof in time for the fireworks. Which were great. The ones on the beach were really close to the spectators, and now and again one would go off a little too low, and people would scatter, screaming, trying to avoid being set on fire. There's no such thing as civil liability here, either. ("You lost your eye to a firecracker? Sucker. Now pay your taxes.")
The kids wanted to know what exactly the battle was about, and when one of the dads came up with some vague information about the French, the kids wanted to know what exactly the French wanted Mazatlán for. Nobody knew, exactly, so we started making jokes about it actually being the French Canadians, who had run out of beer and were on a cerveza raid. The kids started saying things like "I think the French Canadians are winning!" and I would shout "vive la Québec!" when the French side put on an impressive display. It only ocurred to me afterwards that the kids may not have been fully aware that it was a joke. There may be a couple of kids, now back at school in San Fran, sharing their knowledge about Quebec's invasion of Mexico. Oops. Remind me never to have children.
On the way home, I was commenting to Tony how strange it was that nobody here seems to smoke weed. (Anyone from Toronto, try to imagine Caribana without the smell of it in the air.) He said that it's very private here, but that a lot of people do, sometimes the people you'd least expect...and then he brought me a joint before I went to bed that night!
After that, parades, parades, parades. It's basically, I'm told, the same parade (i.e. the same floats), making their way back and forth every day. They take their beauty queens very seriously here...there are posters of the contestants all over town, as if they're running for office. I happened to be up at the baseball stadium a few days ago, looking for info on the baseball season ( I just missed it) when the big Carnaval Queen Pageant was about to happen inside. There was a huge line-up to buy tickets. I know I'm here to take in the local life, and briefly considered going in, but then I thought, do I really have to sit through a beauty pageant to make my trip complete? I went to the aquarium instead.
Anyway, the parade was full of beauty queens, including visiting ones from Texas and creepy little child ones. (There's a child carnival queen pageant, too, also very serious.) One float in the parade I went to was covered in these creepy little queens, all tarted up, and waving and blowing kisses...in...slooowww.... mmmotionnn. I was terrified. Felt a bit better when, on a float a bit later, there were similarly tarted up kids, but they were throwing rolls of streamers at the crowd as if they were trying to kill us. Right on, girls! Get angry! Work those pitching arms!
The music here is so horrible. so horrible. Okay, Irv, remember I told you about Banda music? (Shudder.) Whoever wrote that it was like country music was on crack. It's actually based in polka, a remnant of a time of german occupation here. Layered on top of the oom-pa-pah-ing tuba and accordion are a few drums and AS MANY BRASS INSTRUMENTS AS CAN BE FOUND, playing a bad version of a more typically Mexican sound.
It's just awful. Nobody listens to each other, they all just play as loudly as they possibly can...
I had the misfortune of having a huge banda Sinaloaense (so called because this is the official regional music of Sinaloa state, and Mazatlan in particular) stall in front of me for a long time in the parade. I wanted to kill myself. All the little kids around me started to cry. Nobody could hear them because the music was so loud. One little girl was covering her ears and had tears streaming down her face. Nobody seemed to enjoy it, except for the guys in the band. (It did look like fun to play.) There was some applause at the end, either because people were glad that they were moving on, or, I suspect, out of some civic duty to appreciate their hometown's musical claim to fame. Lonely Planet says "be sure to catch a rousing banda Sinaloaense while in Mazatlan". I say, Lonely Planet, be sure to KISS MY ASS. Other popular music includes stupid latin pop ( the big song right now is called La Gorilla, features lots of grunting and has an accompanying stupid dance in which the participants pretend to be apes), and techno. Thank god carnaval is over.
Well, I'm off. Barbecue back at the ranch tonight. Thanks to those who have written me (bitter or not). Keep it up. It's great to hear from you.
Leese
mexico: the sequel
this is me in Mexico
MAZATLAN, MEXICO
Friday, February 20, 2004
This is me in Mexico. Colour me happy.
I like me in Mexico. I'm relaxed, I'm warm (I'm relaxed because I'm warm), I don't have to talk to anybody (unless I feel like it, dammit), I'm eating well, resting well...and I look fantastic! (Okay, don't drink the water in mexico, but wash your hair in it as much as possible - from my forthcoming series of travel books Lovely Planet: How to look good all over the world.) Things are pretty damn sweet right now. If I don't show up for rehearsal at Shaw on March 30th, somebody tell Jackie why. She'll understand.
Got here on Monday...just realized that I should probably drop a line to let y'all know that I am alive and well...well.
Mazatlan is pretty awesome. I get the joy (oh, joy) of being five short blocks away from the beach, without having to live on a boring resort. I am right in the middle of town, in el centro (the historic district), which is a very vibrant, happening neighbourhood, not too touristy, and where the language of choice is - gasp! - Spanish! Been doing lots of wandering around, gawking at everything, just enjoying the sights, the sounds, the much welcome change. Trekked up to el faro (the lighthouse) the other day, which is apparently the world's second highest lighthouse after Gibraltar's. Anyone who thinks the stairs up to Len and Kendra's are bad, this would blow your mind. (Or kill you. Yeah, more likely kill you.)
Did hit the beach for the first time yesterday, all you sunseekers will be happy to know. The one nearest me, which is definitely not a tourist beach...a lot of families, little kids playing soccer (sorry, futbol) in the shallows, a couple of guys practising their hitting with a tennis ball and a big piece of driftwood . (Beisbol is bigger here than in most of Mexico.) Burying your boyfriend in sand seems to be a popular pasttime...I saw lots of this, including one guy who was buried up to his neck and fast asleep, with a little baby (not buried) asleep on a blanket next to him. Cutest thing I ever saw. I wish I'd gotten a picture, but I didn't want to risk disturbing them. Plus, I didn't know where mama bear was, and I'd have felt strange if she'd caught me. ("Just look at the cute little Mexicans, wouldja Maude?") Actually got a bit burned in a few places - okay, laugh, but don't you wish you had my problems?
Wandered up to the Zona Dorada (the golden zone), last night. This is the crazy touristy part of town. confirmed my suspicions that I would hate it. The walk there is through a somewhat seedy rundown area that reminded me of Niagara Falls. (You know, that disgusting part that makes you want to puke?) I kept going till I got to where it started to be a bit ritzier ( a little like Vegas, I imagine - or the shinier part of Niagara Falls: you know, the other part that makes you want to puke?) Very happy to be where I am instead.
Whoever said it - I think it was you, Josh - you were right. I'ma need a bigger stick. But I've never felt unsafe, and the come ons crack me up, in part because they're so blatant and absurd. There's the standard stuff (what's your name, come over here kind of stuff - boooorrriiiing) but some of the (usually older) guys, probably because I'm a tourist and they realize that words are lost on me, just resort to looking me up and down and making weird grunty growly noises. I can't help it, it makes me laugh. I'm forever walking away trying to keep a straight face. Did have a decent talk (in English) with a Mexican-American guy I met while walking the Malecon (the road that winds along the sea) last night. He actually wanted to talk about religion and politics et cetera, but then he kept throwing in things like "But you know how you'll really learn about religion? Have sex with me! No, no, just kidding....but seriously, ha ha, I live right over there..."! Very smooth, Carlos.
Speaking of smooth, did you know that that's what "Lisa" translates into in Spanish? Okay, it can also mean flat, but smooth sounds slightly more flattering, don't you think? Learning a little Spanish every day. Every time I'm about to go out, I study up on new things I might need to say or want to try out that day. Then I come home and look in my dictionary to figure out how close I came to actually saying what I was trying for. The tiny distinctions are everything - I just found out that what I had thought was an all purpose "sorry", lo siento, is usually reserved for occasions like "I'm sorry your wife and child were run over by that bus". So, in Cuba last year, I may have been going around saying things like "My condolences, my Spanish isn't very good." I have discovered a favourite bartender, at Jazzbar (the local jazz bar - go figure), Hugo, who serves food and drinks and teaches Spanish at the same time. Every time he brings something, he explains patiently what it is called in Spanish. Soon I will be an expert on the names of booze, food and cutlery. It is a bit frustrating being reduced to the linguistic state of a three year-old ("I want this. I want that. How are you. I am fine."), but I have to get over wanting to know everything instantly. Where is that program from the Matrix when you need it? Plug me in.
Anyway, I didn't plan to write a book, but there it is. I'm off to the market now to buy all the things that I couldn't carry and/or pronounce yesterday. By the way, the produce...oh ma gad! I've never felt this way about an avocado before. (Me, making love to my avocado: "I swear I've never had it like this.") Must have avocados...must get more mangos. You probably won't get many more of these emails (is that a collective sigh of relief I hear?)...I mean, how many times do you really need to hear " Learned another word today. Read another book. Tan one shade deeper."? However, Carnaval starts tonight, so if I can't contain my excitement about that, I'll soon be here, typing away. Write me and let me know what's happening in all your places.
Un abrazo,
Lisa
