So our host mom has proved to be the most hospitable and unintentionally hilarious woman on the planet. Seriously.

This week she came home all in a twitter because, get this, her daughter bought her marijuana. But don't worry, says she, it's only for her nose. Riiiiiiiight. Laura and I remained somewhat conflicted by the ethics and effectiveness of snorting Mary Jane with our host mom until the tale unfolded in its entirety.

Apparently, she meant to buy milk at the pharmacy down the street, but somehow or other she walked into the glass refridgerator door and bruised her nose. Thence her daughter supplied her with some MJ, which turns out to be hemp paste, to reduce swelling.

Hilda's always good to score a priceless memory if not some weed. Love her.

tonala

Friday morning my fellow would be spanish speakers and I took a field trip to Tonala. It's an artisan area on the outskirts of Guadalajara. My favorite bit was the glass blowers. We watched these guys make glass apples, which is way cooler than it sounds. Believe me.

Ten points if you can spot my roommate, take a little looksy for Laura. That was a lot of the letter L. That sentence too...someday I'm going to OD on alliteration. Mark my words.


We also went to a paper mache factory to check out these enormous animals made of recycled paper and painted with a high sheen gloss.

Who could resist a photo op with Frida Kahlo? I mean really? Not I.

Happy birthday Laura!!

So turns out I need to temper my American optimism. Somehow I thought I could will the rain away when I walked home from Starbucks last night. Not so.

I waded back to 2629 Sao Paulo in ankle deep liquid which I choose to believe was strictly rain water, laced with neither sewage nor gutter garbage. When I arrived home sopping and shivering I unpacked my bag to air out the contents. And there among the gum wrappers and flash cards was my umbrella. I either forget to bring it entirely or assume that I did. The under utilization of my umbrella needs to end and soon. Lately when I make it home I look like Rocky post Apollo, moist and black-eyed, only it’s thanks to mascara not punches and I’m soaked it from torrential downpour not perspiration and an ice bucket.

Here are some photos from our night out:

I was under the impression, incorrectly it turns out, that women were the only ones who fake it. Whilst Laura and I waited for the bus, a guy pointed at us and performed a full on When Harry Met Sally snippet. The whistles are considerably more welcome in comparison. Ugh.

Laura and I traveled to the city center for the Mariachi festival. We rode the bus downtown, thinking this was better for both our wallets and the planet than hailing a taxi. Never again. At least not on a holiday and in the heat. One can cram only so many Mexicans into a bus before the absent AC and the ample humidity put your sanity and antiperspirant to the test.

After thirty plus minutes of stand still traffic and nonstop sweatage, Laura and I ditched the brimming bus and walked to the square. I solemnly swear this is the last time I’ll complain about the washrooms, but after heading underground for a pay per use toilet that was more malodorous than even the most potent festival porta-p, I can’t hold back.

Is it wrong that what I miss most about home is peanut butter and proper plumbing? Probably. That’s not true. I’m not homesick, but I really miss waking up to post-it notes on the kitchen counter from my parents saying they love me and possibly where/what they’ll be doing and miscellaneous suggestions concerning what my day should entail (ie painting the house…again, losing at scrabble, writing another book, researching the history of turtle racing, or removing my heap of belongings littering the entry way. These are referred to simultaneously with endearment and resentment as Christa Tracks by the parental unit).

Oh--sad day! The screen on my camera has opted to cease and desist functioning. So, it’s back to olden days and view finders. I feel almost anachronistic with my camera pressed to my eye and not knowing immediately how my shot turned out. Everything else seems to be in working order though, so thankfully I won’t have to shell out the cash for a new camera just yet.

The parade was wet but wonderful. Despite the rain we got to see hordes of mariachis and dancers. The costumes and cantaciones were well worth the bus ride from Hades. Well done Mexico, well done.