All work and play

Another week of My Mexican Life has flown by, who knows where the time goes, I must be getting used to this place. School is getting better and better, as I’m beginning to get to know the kids more, becoming more confident in my ability to get up in front of 40 kids and shout an unknown (to them) language at them, and my routing is becoming nicely established: early morning run down at the football pitch, breakfast of leftover tacos, fried plantains or hot cakes with the family, before hailing a cab to school. My working day never lasts longer than about 11 to 3, so it’s not too demanding or tiring, and then I get plenty of time to chat Spanish with family or friends, have a leisurely lunch, do some planning or go for a spin. This week I have been attempting to pimp out my language-teaching skills at every given opportunity, hence posters have gone up, open house sessions have been set up, and I’ve even given my first private class; a beginners French class to a young and enthusiastic university student. More of that to come in the coming weeks, watch this space (O.K, stop watching it now, it’s going to take longer than that).

Thursday was Enrique’s birthday, so a little family cake-cutting and eating session filled up Thursday evening, and leftover cake has been filling me up ever since: they made the mistake of storing it in my fridge, and telling me they’re not big cake eaters. Oh Dear, Diary. The same birthday was again celebrated on Sunday, with a family get-together for which we did a ‘carne asada’ a sort of glorified barbeque with bucket loads of meat, piles of tortillas and a whole day of chilled out company. Even the 24 hour rain (which is still pelting down outside my window as I write) didn’t put a dampener on things. We stayed sitting outside around the party tables until late night, until the rest of the guests had cleared off and the cups of coffee stopped having an effect. Some of us were a little lacking in sleep due to our exertions on Saturday night....

Saturday night started off so well. Having gorged myself on tacos, washed down with a couple of beers, which I’d only bought because mama Callie had said she quite fancied a ‘cervecita’, I lounged in my hammock for a couple of hours, before heading out for a coke and a stroll. Guy and I had a bit of ‘Larathon’ (back to back episodes of Curb your Enthusiasm) before hauling our lazy bottoms out of my house to get a snack. At which point Enrique and the two Juans and Bethoo pulled up and said ‘how about it?’ Cue a trip to a traditional table dance ‘cantina’ (generally male-dominated watering hole), late-night tacos and gate crashing a ‘quincenera’ (15th birthday party, a huge deal for Mexican girls). I was willingly carried along by the spontaneity of it all, and lapped it up, even the grotty cantina, where the only table dancing we actually got to see was from drunken middle-aged men. Slightly disappointed at the lack of naked ladies, or even partially clothed ladies, I waltzed with the guys and forgot about the fact that an hour beforehand I had been almost ready for bed, which explains the foxy glasses, dirty hair and Durham Regatta t-shirt look I was rocking. Mum, this should explain why I got your ‘good morning’ email as I was getting ready for bed, at my somewhat delayed bedtime.

Backtracking some more (this is getting increasingly non-chronological but, frustratingly, increasingly ‘Dear Diary’-like), Friday night gave us an opportunity to see a local football match and, more importantly, a match in which our local team, Cosoleacaque, trampled the opponents, Minatitlan. The fiery Mexican passion was clearly evidenced by the relatively small but feisty crowd of supporters, though the after-party was a bit of a damp squid due to the rain which announced its arrival on Friday night as has yet to sod off.
In other news, I now have a bucket, a mug , a king-size hammock in my room, and a salsa-dish-cum-jewellery holder. All this adds up to me feeling increasingly settled, and I’m gradually realising that this isn’t a holiday. No one has their own mug on holiday, right?