Let me jump off the bliss train real quick and discuss a slightly less... uh... dreamy part of my trip.
Mexico City was NOT terrible. It was fucking amazing and exceeded my expectations exponentially (my bad for that alliteration, my brain just does that shit sometimes).
The... sad portion of it, I guess I could sort of call it that, was the living quarters I was in.
This is as good a time as any to discuss my Mexico City friend and how our friendship came to be.
Back in '02, when I started blogging, I was sort of popular. I was the youngest of the circle... most people in the group were in their early to mid-twenties... and they all thought I was a hilarious kid.
One of my followers, who was probably my most vocal reader, was the best friend of another blogger I friended immediately because I found her to be... the Mexican City-girl version of me.
This reader sort of scared me, initially, because she was WAY too dark for me. I sort of held off on adding her.
However, months passed... weird/sad/terrible/hilarious life events occurred, and there she was, this "dark" girl giving me some of the best moral support I could have ever asked for. "Dark" girl with the real last name of "Rosas"... aka "Roses" which sort of clashed with the on-line image she presented.
Rosas had this cool cat, Luna, which she wrote about often. Luna was lost and found maybe five times in the span of three years... that cat was a fucking trip. However, I'd try and give Rosas as much support as possible... you know, all the way from Vegas.
Bad shit started happening to Rosas, really bad shit. First her Mom suddenly passed... and I remember sitting there and bawling. Her entries were... so hard to read through.
Shortly after, she fell in love, fell off the face of the universe... then reappeared a few months later, married.
She wrote scarcely... didn't read me much... thought she did send occasional e-mails letting some of us know what she was doing. She also proceeded to add me on Myspace, then the same with Facebook... that felt sort of personal.
About two years passed, and I saw an invite to her baby's christening.
WAIT! YOU HAVE A BABY NOW?!
I was still in college, so I couldn't just take off... I remember it was in the month of February.
A few years passed again... the typical small talk and all that shit people do on social networks.
Then her dad died. She watched him fade away from liver failure. My heart would break each time she'd post a photo of her pops fighting the battle... then suddenly the post of him passing on.
Maybe three months passed, and she was suddenly divorced.
Once Rosas divorced, we seemed to be closer than ever... our bitterness made us bond.
Over the course of our 11-year friendship, we always joked about one day meeting in person. I would tell her I had to meet this freakishly awesome Luna of hers... as well as her baby, of course.
Then July happened. July 17th, Luna died.
I cried.
That was Rosas' ride-or-die. Luna had been the one thread that helped her keep it together when she saw her parents die... saw her through her bitter divorce... took care of her baby in the way only cats know how (those creeps).
That's when I knew we had to meet in person.
And so, after asking her if it wasn't too creepy, she very excitedly agreed.
I asked Rosas for her daughter's favorite toys, and went crazy at Toys R Us.
Once at Customs at the Mexico City airport, I felt my nerves getting the best of me.
How is she going to know me?
Well, as I was busy trying to figure out how I'd find my friend, I looked up above the crowd and saw my nickname on a bright pink piece of cardboard paper.
I hugged Rosas as if I'd known her my entire life.
I waved at her six year old... because I'm awkward.
I fully realized how awkward the entire situation was once we were in our taxi, on our way to Rosas' home.
Cabbie: So... first time in the city?
Rosas: Well, hers, yes, I live here.
Me: Yeah. I've only flown through here a few times, but never visited the city.
Cabbie: Oh! So... you two are...
Me: Life-long friends... almost sisters.
6YearOld: Yeah, but can you believe this is THE FIRST TIME they see each other in person?!
Ahhhh, kids.
After sitting through a Mexican history and government lesson, we made it to Rosas' hood... and were dropped off at her apartment.
I found it charming... because I've seen these buildings in Mexican novelas... hood buildings full of colorful characters.
The inside was equally charming... you know... rooms with no doors... gas-station-style restroom...
I stayed in the little girl's room, scared shitless that I'd break her baby bed... so I slept like a fucking corpse each night.
They also had two kittens... playful kittens... who'd pounce on me at night, lick my face, and meow into my face for god knows how long.
BUT THIS WAS ALL CHARMING!
Then came feeding time... and that's when my heart broke HARD.
Just... the scarcity... the rationing... even the utensils.
One morning, we shared ONE tamal (singular form of "tamales" is TAMAL. "Tamales" is plural. Ok, end rant... that "tamale" shit just fucking kills me) amongst the three of us... and drank hot water.
I wanted to cry... because my friend and her kid deserve so much more.
What killed me most was that Rosas wasn't allowing me to pay for anything.
I'm pretty sure I talked about our activities... I mean, they were fucking amazing adventures.
Each adventure, my buddy would buy me something, a tiny, handmade memento, but still, so very heartfelt.
And this is what exemplifies what I mean when I say I adore Mexicans and their spirit. They can be living in the most abject poverty imaginable... but they will do everything in their power to show YOU they care for you... to help you feel... loved.
It's insane, how warm my people are... and it makes me feel like such a piece of shit when I stop and think about what an asshole I am to everyone around me. I don't live up to the hospitable/kind characteristic of my people... I'm a whiny, mean cunt.
Here, this single mom, my friend... a girl who is pretty much alone in the world except for her six-year-old daughter... was giving me gifts... sharing her ONE tamal... and just... showing me how amazing life can be as long as you're smiling... and I'm over here driving cars that cost more than her apartment building, yet still finding a reason to be suicidal. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?!
I gave her the toys I had purchased for her daughter and told her to make the kid think it was all Santa. Never mind me... let the baby think I was a dick who didn't give them shit.
I did give Rosas a Christmas gift. I gave her something she had always wanted: expensive make-up... and my favorite pearl bracelet with a camera charm.
She was speechless... but with a smile she refuses to ever photograph/post on Facebook... because it's so wide and "dorky"... but REAL. Smiles like that are priceless.
Before leaving on our taxi cab ride back to the airport, I took out my stash of American cash.
I left five coin of each denomination on the six-year-old's bed. I labeled the coins with their name and worth.
I then wrote another note: These are the bills of the US currency. These are your mom's.
I left bills of each denomination, neatly stacked.
My only wish is that I would have been carrying more hundreds...
And still, they wouldn't cover the worth of this girl, my friend.
Mexico City was NOT terrible. It was fucking amazing and exceeded my expectations exponentially (my bad for that alliteration, my brain just does that shit sometimes).
The... sad portion of it, I guess I could sort of call it that, was the living quarters I was in.
This is as good a time as any to discuss my Mexico City friend and how our friendship came to be.
Back in '02, when I started blogging, I was sort of popular. I was the youngest of the circle... most people in the group were in their early to mid-twenties... and they all thought I was a hilarious kid.
One of my followers, who was probably my most vocal reader, was the best friend of another blogger I friended immediately because I found her to be... the Mexican City-girl version of me.
This reader sort of scared me, initially, because she was WAY too dark for me. I sort of held off on adding her.
However, months passed... weird/sad/terrible/hilarious life events occurred, and there she was, this "dark" girl giving me some of the best moral support I could have ever asked for. "Dark" girl with the real last name of "Rosas"... aka "Roses" which sort of clashed with the on-line image she presented.
Rosas had this cool cat, Luna, which she wrote about often. Luna was lost and found maybe five times in the span of three years... that cat was a fucking trip. However, I'd try and give Rosas as much support as possible... you know, all the way from Vegas.
Bad shit started happening to Rosas, really bad shit. First her Mom suddenly passed... and I remember sitting there and bawling. Her entries were... so hard to read through.
Shortly after, she fell in love, fell off the face of the universe... then reappeared a few months later, married.
She wrote scarcely... didn't read me much... thought she did send occasional e-mails letting some of us know what she was doing. She also proceeded to add me on Myspace, then the same with Facebook... that felt sort of personal.
About two years passed, and I saw an invite to her baby's christening.
WAIT! YOU HAVE A BABY NOW?!
I was still in college, so I couldn't just take off... I remember it was in the month of February.
A few years passed again... the typical small talk and all that shit people do on social networks.
Then her dad died. She watched him fade away from liver failure. My heart would break each time she'd post a photo of her pops fighting the battle... then suddenly the post of him passing on.
Maybe three months passed, and she was suddenly divorced.
Once Rosas divorced, we seemed to be closer than ever... our bitterness made us bond.
Over the course of our 11-year friendship, we always joked about one day meeting in person. I would tell her I had to meet this freakishly awesome Luna of hers... as well as her baby, of course.
Then July happened. July 17th, Luna died.
I cried.
That was Rosas' ride-or-die. Luna had been the one thread that helped her keep it together when she saw her parents die... saw her through her bitter divorce... took care of her baby in the way only cats know how (those creeps).
That's when I knew we had to meet in person.
And so, after asking her if it wasn't too creepy, she very excitedly agreed.
I asked Rosas for her daughter's favorite toys, and went crazy at Toys R Us.
Once at Customs at the Mexico City airport, I felt my nerves getting the best of me.
How is she going to know me?
Well, as I was busy trying to figure out how I'd find my friend, I looked up above the crowd and saw my nickname on a bright pink piece of cardboard paper.
I hugged Rosas as if I'd known her my entire life.
I waved at her six year old... because I'm awkward.
I fully realized how awkward the entire situation was once we were in our taxi, on our way to Rosas' home.
Cabbie: So... first time in the city?
Rosas: Well, hers, yes, I live here.
Me: Yeah. I've only flown through here a few times, but never visited the city.
Cabbie: Oh! So... you two are...
Me: Life-long friends... almost sisters.
6YearOld: Yeah, but can you believe this is THE FIRST TIME they see each other in person?!
Ahhhh, kids.
After sitting through a Mexican history and government lesson, we made it to Rosas' hood... and were dropped off at her apartment.
I found it charming... because I've seen these buildings in Mexican novelas... hood buildings full of colorful characters.
The inside was equally charming... you know... rooms with no doors... gas-station-style restroom...
I stayed in the little girl's room, scared shitless that I'd break her baby bed... so I slept like a fucking corpse each night.
They also had two kittens... playful kittens... who'd pounce on me at night, lick my face, and meow into my face for god knows how long.
BUT THIS WAS ALL CHARMING!
Then came feeding time... and that's when my heart broke HARD.
Just... the scarcity... the rationing... even the utensils.
One morning, we shared ONE tamal (singular form of "tamales" is TAMAL. "Tamales" is plural. Ok, end rant... that "tamale" shit just fucking kills me) amongst the three of us... and drank hot water.
I wanted to cry... because my friend and her kid deserve so much more.
What killed me most was that Rosas wasn't allowing me to pay for anything.
I'm pretty sure I talked about our activities... I mean, they were fucking amazing adventures.
Each adventure, my buddy would buy me something, a tiny, handmade memento, but still, so very heartfelt.
And this is what exemplifies what I mean when I say I adore Mexicans and their spirit. They can be living in the most abject poverty imaginable... but they will do everything in their power to show YOU they care for you... to help you feel... loved.
It's insane, how warm my people are... and it makes me feel like such a piece of shit when I stop and think about what an asshole I am to everyone around me. I don't live up to the hospitable/kind characteristic of my people... I'm a whiny, mean cunt.
Here, this single mom, my friend... a girl who is pretty much alone in the world except for her six-year-old daughter... was giving me gifts... sharing her ONE tamal... and just... showing me how amazing life can be as long as you're smiling... and I'm over here driving cars that cost more than her apartment building, yet still finding a reason to be suicidal. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?!
I gave her the toys I had purchased for her daughter and told her to make the kid think it was all Santa. Never mind me... let the baby think I was a dick who didn't give them shit.
I did give Rosas a Christmas gift. I gave her something she had always wanted: expensive make-up... and my favorite pearl bracelet with a camera charm.
She was speechless... but with a smile she refuses to ever photograph/post on Facebook... because it's so wide and "dorky"... but REAL. Smiles like that are priceless.
Before leaving on our taxi cab ride back to the airport, I took out my stash of American cash.
I left five coin of each denomination on the six-year-old's bed. I labeled the coins with their name and worth.
I then wrote another note: These are the bills of the US currency. These are your mom's.
I left bills of each denomination, neatly stacked.
My only wish is that I would have been carrying more hundreds...
And still, they wouldn't cover the worth of this girl, my friend.
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