Mexico Journal: July 4, 2010

Shortly after the game and my wanderings on the "andador" 20 de noviembre, I grew tired of looking purposeful. I watched small boys play soccer in a muddy corner of grass by the kiosko in the Santo Domingo plaza. The ball was hard, dirty and small, but the boys playing were so full of joy that it didn't seem to matter that in a little while, on the sunny Saturday morning, they'd likely have to be selling their mother's goods, or gum. I watched forcefully, hungrily so as to not make too much eye contact or call too much unwanted attention to myself. I grow so tired of being asked "¿De dónde vienes?" "¿Por qué hablas tan bien el español?" "Cómprame seño..."

I don't have much money, though there's still a little in the bank. Gabriela can't seem to wire the money to me, which is so frustrating because I don't want to take more money out than I need, and I also don't want to carry around a ton of cash. Ah well.

So the phone rang just as I was growing weary of the pack on my shoulders, and it was Jorge, coming to get me and bring me back to the house, Emel and Ivan's house, in the Colonia Cuxtitalli, a 15-20 minute walk from the centro.

There I met Manuel and Pedro, tow of Jorge's friends who play Son Jarocho. Manuel was immediately warm and friendly, and Pedro a bit more quiet and reserved. Karla (an ex and present?) girlfriend of Jorge's was there, too. So we were a full house, but Emel and Iván were so gracious. They know each other from Davis, but most everyone had only just met at least one or two of the group.

Everyone is surprisingly easy to get along with and we all had a breakfast of huevos a la mexicana, tortilla, frijoles negros and quesillo. Then, minus Emel, who had to work, we made our way back to down town to watch Paraguay lose in the 82nd minute to España. Sad, and an all-around poorly played game. There was an exciting moment in which in less than 2 minutes both teams were awarded a penalty kick that was stopped by the keeper. (Spain's went in, but the ref had called it back because the team entered the box before the contact was made with the ball.)

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So we went out last night, despite the "Ley seca" before elections, to a bar/ restaurant called "Bagels and Kitsch" - surprisingly (or not so?) mostly peopled with ex-pats , other gringos and fresas. Emel's friend Sarah, from San Francisco,'s boyfriend Aldo was playing with his band: Son Jarocho fusion. It was cool, and Pedro and Manuel had a very nice palomazo with them. They were great. After, we hung out at Sarah's (she's also a jew, which was a point of strange contention with a weird, attention-seeking interloper...), with a bunch of folks and I sang a little though my voice was strained from the cold I'm fighting.