Normalcy

To begin, one of my favorite stories of the week: Who would have thought that I would have my first run-in with the Mexican cops, not for doing something stupid, but for doing volunteer work? Last week I went with the English school’s director, Justina, and one of our students, Sergio, to post flyers around the neighborhood advertising the school. Lo and behold, the cops stopped us and told us we couldn't post things on lampposts because they were government property, even though every lamppost is like, top to bottom covered in flyers so it's obviously something people do all the time and don't get in trouble for. You would think this level of infraction wouldn’t be a big deal and we could get away with a sincere “I’m sorry sir, we didn’t know,” but the cop was ready to take us into the station. Justina, who is Canadian, and I were completely lost for words, but luckily Sergio knew how to negotiate and we ended up paying the guy 80 pesos, like US$7.50ish, to let us go. I couldn’t believe it. I knew coming in that it’s totally normal here to pay off the cops like that, but I never thought that I would have to do it.

In addition to unjust near-arrest experiences, other aspects of life have become relatively normal. I work about 15 hours a week, teaching 3 classes a week, plus five one-on-one tutoring sessions, all Monday through Weds. One class is the kids/beginners class – about eight kids, ages 6 to 15, average like 11. They never study and they’re hyperactive, but they at least stay in their seats for maybe 40 minutes at a time. Then twice a week is the young adults/intermediate class, only three students, in their twenties. This I love because it’s more like hanging out than giving class. Three quarters of the time we actually go through the textbook, and the rest we’re just chatting, or watching youtube videos, or Sergio is giving me a spontaneous cumbia lesson. My job is tough.

Mornings and evenings at home feel sometimes like living in a miniature college dorm, when Rocio (Chio, everyone calls her) and Saul and I sit around our little common room, eating and watching movies. We’re all still close enough to being university students that it fits, until the mood is broken by Angela bustling around cleaning, or little Yucari bursting through the door with one of her parents, lollipop in hand and plastic tiara on upside-down. Then it’s less like a dorm, more like a live episode of Full House: Mexico City. Only instead of cheesy life lessons at the end of every episode, I’m learning cultural lessons.

For example:
In Mexico, it’s normal to eat chili/hot sauce with everything. Not just tacos. Potato chips, pizza, peanuts, apples, oranges, everything gets bathed in chili, or coated with dried chili flakes. Nobody understands why I don’t find this appealing.
In Mexico, after graduation, college students still need to complete a 200 plus-page thesis to officially finish their undergraduate career. They also pay next to nothing for college.
In Mexico, it’s normal to have two weddings – a civil one and one in the church (Alfonso Jr. and Nancy have not yet had the church one). Weddings, at least in my host family, involve a really traditional exchange of goods, i.e. the groom’s parents buy the bridal gown, veil, and jewelry, etc. Bride’s parents pay for most everything else. But I guess in all countries some families are more traditional than others.

On the weekends, I get other cultural lessons hanging out with Blanca and her friends. Mainly, how to drink and dance. In Mexico, it’s normal to drink A LOT of tequila, often mixed with Squirt soda. In cocktail form, the mix is a “Paloma” (“Dove”). As a shot, it’s a “Muppet.” The two Friday nights I’ve spent in the city have been filled beginning to end with Palomas and Muppets, after a few of which Blanca forces whatever male friend is standing closest to give me dance lessons (usually salsa). I enjoy it, but totally stumble through it. When the song ends, I apologize for being awful, the guy will graciously tell me I did a good job and then grab a new partner as quickly as possible. But I still think I’ve learned at least something, and it’s fun. I feel at home in this group – college-educated 20-somethings working 9-5 office jobs and partying on weekends. They even have some of the same drinking games, like Yo Nunca Nunca – Never Have I Ever. Little pieces of familiarity like that really make a difference.

So that’s my normal routine in Mexico City. Not astonishingly different from the States, but it’s always the little things that throw you for a loop.

¡Hasta luego!