Routine clear-out (amended, post-photo retrieval)

My routine is now nicely established. The week gets eaten up by a soothing mix of timetabled classes and irregular private lessons, aimless conversations, meanderings, musings and consuming. The fact that this routine is now nicely established means that I need to steer clear of the ‘wasting time’ route. I’m miserably failing so far. With the weather being that bit cooler, it’s oh-so-tempting to stay in bed instead of cracking on with the day, and the constant presence of at least one person rocking in a cosy chair on the terrace with open ears means that there is always a reason to subscribe to the ‘mañana, mañana’/’ahorita’ attitude. All of my great intentions (scrub up on my Mexican history, make myself au fait with the Zapatista presence in the country, join a volunteering scheme in Minatitlan) all seem a little too much like hard work. In the long run, though, time is not something I appear to be lacking in.

The good of the week culminated on Friday night: Guy and I introduced Juanito to the joys of Ring of Fire (to the detriment of his sobriety and his stomach), we followed the usual crowd to a new crowd, a friendly mix of co-workers, friends of friends, friends of family, and many people who extended welcoming hands and future invitations, including a gay bar-owner, a deaf and mute football player and a generous drunk. The rain should really have put us off standing outside a shop for 7 hours, but we didn’t let it so much as dampen our spirits.
The bad of the week came from a couple of hangers-on, who took it upon themselves to cause some unnecessary trouble after-hours, which didn’t end well but could have turned out so much worse when you out a positive slant on it.
No photos of this night now exist (due to my inappropriate relationship with ‘delete’ buttons), nor of my Mexican’s grandmas’ birthday celebrations of last Sunday night, which leaves me only to rely on good old-fashioned memories, of the more ephemeral but nonetheless evocative sort. You’ll just have to take my word for it.
I do, however, have some photos of Aaron’s 15th birthday party, which we celebrated today. Being not only a member of the family but also one of my private English students, I got to take part in the age-old tradition whereby the birthday boy has to dance with every female in the joint. And I feel it necessary to point out that he looked just as uncomfortable when he did the waltz with every single girl, woman or old dodderer.

ps. Photos have now been retrieved, thanks to a nifty little program called recuva (I highly recommend looking into this if you happen to permanently delete any photos). This post now comes with even more pretty pictures.