The Gringo Diaries, Pt. 2
I'm not really keeping up with the news. It's better now that I figured out how to get on the Internet but I find that I don't really care that much. What I usually find sucks me out of being in Mexico. I know from a friend that Obama is going to be the Democratic candidate. Actually, I had heard he had the votes but Hillary wouldn't bow out. When it became more or less official, the group of American ex-patriots who run the school gave a few awkward high-fives.
The two main people who run the school are pretty interesting. It's a brother-sister team whose parents were missionaries and social activists in Latin America, mostly in Columbia, during the sixties and seventies. The family relocated to Mexico when it became apparent to them that they really didn't want to die.
The last time I was in Mexico, I tried to avoid the news as best as possible as well. Or at least only get it from Spanish language sources. I was in a bar in Cuernavaca finishing off a yarda of beer when I found out the Kurt Cobain had tried to kill himself. That was before the Internet so I couldn't find out much more. Just a blip from MTV Latin America. A few weeks later, Cobain killed himself for real. I found this out from my Mexican brother who over yet another breakfast of tortillas and bean asked me if I know what happened.
"Se suicidio," he said. I was just wrapping my head around what suicidio meant when he mimicked a gun to his head and proceeded to mock blow his brains all over the kitchen table. I was emulating Cobain at the time. I had long hair and was wearing a lot of flannel and cardigan sweaters, so I took the news pretty hard. Still, without the Internet, I missed what I'm sure was never-ending coverage and actually think I processed the whole event in a much healthier way than if I was reminded of it every time I turned on the tv or listened to the radio.
This time, it's much easier to get the news because I am more or less connected via the Internet. I'm more hooked in than most because I have my own computer. If you don't have a laptop, there's one PC that students can use. They have ten minutes at a time and can only check e-mail. Still, I'm avoiding it for the most part.
I'm not really emulating anyone this time out. In my fat bearded state, if anyone, I probably have the Jerry Garcia thing working but we already know how that story ends and really I wouldn't be broken up anyway.
So back to the sick...
The two main people who run the school are pretty interesting. It's a brother-sister team whose parents were missionaries and social activists in Latin America, mostly in Columbia, during the sixties and seventies. The family relocated to Mexico when it became apparent to them that they really didn't want to die.
The last time I was in Mexico, I tried to avoid the news as best as possible as well. Or at least only get it from Spanish language sources. I was in a bar in Cuernavaca finishing off a yarda of beer when I found out the Kurt Cobain had tried to kill himself. That was before the Internet so I couldn't find out much more. Just a blip from MTV Latin America. A few weeks later, Cobain killed himself for real. I found this out from my Mexican brother who over yet another breakfast of tortillas and bean asked me if I know what happened.
"Se suicidio," he said. I was just wrapping my head around what suicidio meant when he mimicked a gun to his head and proceeded to mock blow his brains all over the kitchen table. I was emulating Cobain at the time. I had long hair and was wearing a lot of flannel and cardigan sweaters, so I took the news pretty hard. Still, without the Internet, I missed what I'm sure was never-ending coverage and actually think I processed the whole event in a much healthier way than if I was reminded of it every time I turned on the tv or listened to the radio.
This time, it's much easier to get the news because I am more or less connected via the Internet. I'm more hooked in than most because I have my own computer. If you don't have a laptop, there's one PC that students can use. They have ten minutes at a time and can only check e-mail. Still, I'm avoiding it for the most part.
I'm not really emulating anyone this time out. In my fat bearded state, if anyone, I probably have the Jerry Garcia thing working but we already know how that story ends and really I wouldn't be broken up anyway.
So back to the sick...
pelota hasta que wimp Espere hasta que escuche acerca de la vez que bebía de muchas cervezas.
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Pobre bebé, si estuviera aquí sólo me le dan galletas de chispas de chocolate pasta y helados.
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