Keep Calm and Carry On

So, having seen the new year in, as with wherever you are in the world, January is about settling into the new year, realising that however good your intentions to do everything better and tick off a series of ambitious and highly unfeasible resolutions, nothing is really going to change with the dawning of a new calendar year. This particular I’m perfectly happy forgetting about the resolutions, perfectly satisfied with how things are, and I don’t really see it as a new beginning. The only new thing is that everybody has developed the frustrating habit of constantly raising the issue of my ‘imminent’ departure. I haven’t even reached the halfway point of my time this side of the Atlantic, and already I’m battling to stifle the ‘Are you going to cry when you go?’ ‘You’ll forget all about us when you’re gone’, and ‘If you like I’ll send you tamales...oh wait, can you send that in the post?’ ENOUGH! Not even half of my time here has elapsed, give me another six months to get bored of the place and book flights home, and then, only then, may you force me to think about leaving here.

Mexican customs and way of life has now been completely normalised. Whereas a few months ago the way that we always eat with a spoon, that I only have cold water and that toilet paper can under no circumstances be flushed down the toilet seemed novel and oddly hitherto unknown, are now the standard that I feel I will compare future mealtime, bathroom and toilet customs with. The amount of time that has passed since I first came a-knocking in Cosolea also means that the inevitable barrage of questioning that often comes when I meet someone new (usually someone who hasn’t had a huge amount of contact with white, English, Spanish-speaking people) no longer tickles me, but I grin and bear it and answer it with the same feigned spontaneity as when I was first asked the same questions a lifetime ago.

The big family fiesta we had at the beginning of the month was a brilliant start to the year, with the entire family united in the palapa, soaking up the 80s music. I took on the role of waitress par excellence, scuttling around making sure everyone had a beer, a plate of tacos and a bowl of beans. Whilst this meant I got unsightly blisters on my little toes (which were a lot more debilitating than they should have been considering their size), I also got the chance to chat to, dance with and raise a glass with absolutely everyone present. I got that warm fuzzy feeling which can only be attracted to corny contentment in one’s own situation, when I felt effortlessly embraced by the family. I didn’t feel like an invited outsider, just one of the bunch, telling jokes (albeit in a dodgy accent) and hugging the birthday boy. I got a similar feeling of peaceful homeliness when we took a trip to the beach with the kids to splash and eat fresh-as-a-‘frijol’-fart fish and seafood.

Fresh from the wanderings of the end of the year, Kyle’s van’s groupies were reunited in Cordoba for Matt the Chat’s 24^th, which gave me the perfect excuse to see Cordoba, and we hopped across to Veracruz Port for a mosie on the Saturday to the Sunday. The birthday night, the bus journeys and the burning of the proverbial candle drained our energy and our savings, and it means that I am now biting my nails waiting for the long-awaited pay from the SEP. Though apparently the waiting time could be shortened by a persuasive email or two to people in high places. There’s a silver lining to everything, though as of yet, not my pockets.