Second to the Last Day Here, WAAAAAA!

Now it's official, I'm totally depressed. Of course it will be great to get back and all that, blah blah blah, but the reality is that I've made some dear friends here and it will be very hard to leave them. Today will be awful, having to say goodbye to Antonio and Cesar -- since tomorrow is field trip day, Thursday is their day off. The other thing is, in these last few days my Spanish has really taken off in a big way, and now I have to leave! If I had another 3 weeks here, I feel I could actually be sorta-semi-fluent. But since that isn't the case, I am just going to have to find a way to keep the ball rolling once I get back. For those of you concerned about Wilson, he is still here...although either today or tomorrow I am going to have to decide whether to chop him up and have him with chili and lime, or make him into Pina Coladas for the group either tonight or tomorrow night. At present he is resting comfortably on my dresser and contemplating The Great Beyond -- El Mas Alla.

Yesterday I found a wonderful gallery with an exhibit of photographs -- can't remember the artist's name, now. But there was also a super bookstore where I got a couple of books, a necklace of wooden beads, and a T- shirt with pictures of the parrots of Mexico on it. Sort of an educational type bookstore -- in town there is a pretty big display, too, to educated and gather support for a "green" movement typical of the US.

After being nice and cool for the past 10 days or so, yesterday was warm and muggy again. Today it's threatening rain, and I hope it happens ... so refreshing, and I love the sound of the cars shooshing by under my window.

Last night Gabriella, Steve, John and I went out to eat at a place called "Giros", up towards Boca del Rio. Great food, great service, and so cheap -- I continue to have pangs of guilt over the cheapness of living here, if you are from the States. I had queso fundido and a tripas taco. Per usual, the portions were HUGE. I haven't finished a meal here yet. As I write I can hear the clinking and clanking downstairs of breakfast preparations, but I'm not going to want anything other than this cup of coffee I'm having as I write this, that's for sure! I haven't really been eating dinner, as a rule, since "lunch" is the big meal of the day -- so even that has been very inexpensive. We all have snack things around, or there's always the tienda on the corner with The Ham sitting on the counter, ready to be whacked into slices for sandwiches. For heartier far, Suriana is one block away -- I must remember to go up there and ask to see thier alligator before I go. Anyway, I need to have one last giant glass of fresh jugo de naranja -- orange juice -- that's something I'm really going to miss. I don't think Mexicans know that it's even possible for orange juice to come from a can or bottle! Such a civilized country.

Oh, here's another reason this country is so "what's-not-to-love": (that is, besides the fact that you can get any drug you want over the counter without a prescription, barring psychiatric drugs). One evening after a very hard, thristy day, I walked up to the "sports bar", one block beyond Suriana of alligator fame, and asked if they could make me a margarita. Mind you, this is not the sort of place in which you necessarily ask for a mixed drink, it's more of a beer and peanuts place. Well, the woman raised her eyebrows and laughed a little and told me "un momento". She then got on the phone and called someone to...what? Ask for the recipe? In any case, there then ensued many discussions in the course of several phone calls, the upshot being that she asked me to wait several more momentos while Jose came over from his casa to make said margarita. At this point I asked her to please not bother, that a beer would be fine; but no, nothing would do but that I should have this margarita. Eventually a young man showed up and very seriously went to work, slowly slicing fresh limes, pouring a liberal amount of tequilla, all the time working gravely and deliberately. I was going mad with thirst and anticipation by now, but no matter, the drink had to be perfect. At this point the woman looked at me and asked whether I would like to "toma" the drink there, or "lleva" it to go. OMG, I LOVE this country! The idea of walking into a bar in the US and ordering a margarita to go, then merrily carrying it off down the street in a styrofoam container, well ..... the pulse quickens. After perhaps half an hour from my initial request, I finally took my first swig, and I have to say it was one of the best I've ever had. So good in fact, I ordered another.