Mexico Journal: July 10, 2010

Jorge and Manuel came home very drunk because of a near-death experience they had with a car-stereo thief and his knife. Pedro, apparently, went right to bed, but Jorge was full of love and good energy while Manuel, on the other hand, made every effort to avoid eye-contact with me. I don't know why that feels so hurtful, but it did. The next day I had every intention of being alone, but we all went out for a breakfast of Pozole (Jalisco style) at a little place on the andador Hidalgo. I took my leave with the idea of getting a "limpia" from Emel's friend, but then she wasn't there, so I wandered and took pictures and got caught in the rain.

I stood still for a long time under a dripping eave, but eventually found myself magically on the andador 20 de noviembre. I wandered into the Bar Revolución thinking I'd have a capuccino and read for a while, but that, too, failed because there the guys were. Drinking together. I felt awkward and slightly out of place, but the only real option was to join them.

I started with a capuccino with piquete and it went downhill from there. Next I had a "sacrificio maya," a novelty drink which involves a flaming mixture of kahlua, tequila and orange liqueur in mineral water. Too sweet!!!! but I drank it in one jalón anyway and moved on to a very rum-filled mojito, then a piña colada, and, if I recall correctly, 2 margaritas (frozen) plus some of Jorge's tequila sunrise. Needless to say I was a crying mess, but we all had a reasonably good conversation. Pedro, after all, was the straight-talker and he basically let me know that he doesn't (yet?) consider me a friend and that what I have to say isn't of import to him. I admire his directness but I must say I don't feel like I have any options. To me, the way to build friendships is to share stories and converse. I don't feel hurt though, just a bit unsure of how to proceed. Apparently, too, my conversational style of checking in is offensive. Talk about lack of cross-gender communication! I guess where I stand indifference is a huge challenge. Do I want to tackle it?

I am a giver of love and care, and, I am informed, that even the gestures of care that are in my nature are motive for offense. Well. I guess the next few days will decide if I stay with them to go to the fandango in Playa Vicente or take the next bus to DF.

Jorge and I made it to the Plaza (and, as he later reminded me) I had a shot of mezcal from one of the artisans en Santo Domingo... What a fucking disaster. I fell over? (no memory of this), and laughed heartily, then wandered off, and finally started chatting with some guys on the corner. Pedro and Manuel went to the market, and Jorge and I found ourselves in a store chatting with the owner for a half hour or more while they drank beers, and by the time we got a taxi home, I needed to boot and sleep, which was a shame because there were friends over.

I am promising myslef no hard liquor for a year. I don't even want to think about it.

Today I took care of myself emotionally and physically. I managed to sleep, but I got up and made black bean soup. Then Emel and I took off for down town. I dropped my clothing off for a "real" (ie not hand wrung in the sink) washing and drying, got caught in the rain, spent some time on email and watched the second half of the Uruguay-Germany game.

I had a comida corrida and a capuccino, and then I just walked and walked. I discovered a little church at the top of a long staircase called San Cristobalito. Behind it there was a path leading into the jungle where I stumbled upon lovers kissing innocently and I realized that I envy them nothing. I feel relatively cured of love. Maybe that's what this challenge is proposing to me: to not feel. To let go of any attachment to being loved or even liked.

In the late afternoon I wandered the markets and chatted with the artisans who have been smiling surreptitiously at me for days. In particular a Honduran guy named Palermo who spoke of light and love in ways that make sense to me and I am reminded that the light I seek is in myself, that of a star, not a moon: I have to generate it myself, not h ope for it to reflect off and tangentially illuminate me.

We all met up to take Emel and Iván out to dinner as a thank you, thinking that tonight would be our last night, but instead it looks like we'll be here until Tuesday. That's ok. I like feeling like I know a town. And I feel empowered to walk its streets alone.

I think I will go see some ruins on Monday, though, if it is at all possible. So here I am, after a walk with Jorge, at the Rincón Zapata, listening to a fandango and feeling a tickle in my throat that threatens illness. I need some good uninhibited, uninhebriated sleep.