Chapter 11: settling in; or, your hammock and you

My perspicacious readers have a question trembling on the tips of their tongues, “why chapter eleven?” well, dear associates, there is a seemingly valid reason for this heading, like solutions to so many other uncertainties that exist in this life of ours.

Which reminds me of an all too familiar conversation I have with store proprietors down here in mexico. I ask if there is some item, “hay jugo de naranja?” (is there any orange juice?) and their response to this query is often, “si hay,” (sure there is) and then after I stand there looking dumbly at them: “pero aqui no” (But not here). Another nod to my astute readers and even the random clairvoyant who has somehow happened upon my site: I am typing on my lappy at home, which does not have the fancypants accent marks like my school compy has. Thus, when you read the above in Spanish, it does not really make sense. Si, without an accent over the “i” means “if,” not “yes” or “pertaining to” or the five other things that si with an accent means. And aqui without an accent over the last letter is just plain silly and makes me think of acquiescing, a word which I really don’t get a chance to use that much because submitting to something seems a lot like giving up and thus an action I have avoided for the last six months or so.

Of course, you probably guessed that I am typing this in Microsoft word because of the damn auto-capitalization; you gotta love that it automatically capitalizes Microsoft. Beautiful. I loathe capitalizing words. ok, loathe is a strong word and should not just be thrown around like that. One must take care with words or bad things could happen. Especially written words, those little devils are tricky and often lead to problems because they lack spoken intonation and thus are often misconstrued. And no word likes to be misconstrued.

By now another question has replaced the first, which, honestly, if I did not go back and read I would have forgotten about entirely. Is this going to be another esoteric posting that may or may not make sense but will most likely be a waste of my time to read, if indeed I do not decide to get up, go to the bathroom and check my e-mail when I return? Good question.

Why? Because bathrooms down here are often scary affairs with lots of grime, an inordinate amount of creepy-crawlies and no toilet seats. This is quite serious. My first apt. had no toilet seats. When you equip a bathroom with a toilet in the states, you slap a seat on that bad boy, right? Como no? how could you not? Well, it ain’t done down here. I don’t like it, you would not like it, but here we are once again. Thought you were going to toss that t.p. you brought with you, most times there is none supplied, into the toilet and flush? No no. you toss it in the stinking, probably nearly full, wastebasket next to the toilet. Into the toilet and you had better be ready to jet and soon as you flush because if not the fear you feel as the water rises (and how precipitously at that?) will make you trip over your trousers as you head for the door. But don’t touch that door or anything else in the bathroom for that matter because unless you also have soap in your pocket, well, I will let you finish that thought.

As my female readers scoff and sigh, “poor willis, does he not know that women have been dealing with the problem of unsanitary bathrooms ever since man and woman had to share a w.c.?” clearly the answer is that yes I do know this, I mean, I did just write that, but my point is that these are on a different level. Third world you say? Two tickets for the livestock compartment, please.

A picture of sanitization, no? how I long for the days in cali where every public bathroom has that paper seat stuff.

And since I am still, somehow on this topic, get those pansy truck stop bathroom thoughts out of your head right now. You are disrespecting truck stops everywhere totally undeservedly. walking into some bathrooms down here makes you wish you could clean the bottoms of your shoes before walking back outside. Before walking in the dirt. Exactly.

As I sit in my beach chair illustrating reasons for you to fear public restrooms, I realize many of you may already have a healthy fear of such public palaces. This narration only confirms what you already thought. However there is one more important thing. I am also watching a train of ants crawl along my wall: two-lane highway, rush hour, probably the afternoon variety, going to and coming from places I don’t really want to know about. As there is no median they often bump into each other. And hilarity ensues.

Yup, this is what I do with my free time.

As I start month 7, I have many things to be proud of, I will only list 9 to save time: 1) I may or may not have had worms only once. 2) I have read two complete novels in Spanish and am currently reading two more (one at school and the other at home). 3) I wash my own clothes by hand once a week. 4) I walk about 4 miles each day, which is really not that much, but I was much lazier 3 months ago. 5) I have lost over 20 lbs, which means I now pretty much have to buy new clothes because all my pants/shorts come off without me having to undo any buttons and my shirts are ginormous on me. Wow, I was a teletubby before I left. 6) I have been to 8 mexican states. 7) I can sleep in a hammock all night without ever falling out (ok, this is actually much easier than you might think). Aren’t you glad I got back around to the whole chapter title thing? 8) the amount of new vegetable I now eat is startling: tomatoes, avocadoes, all sorts of squashies, peppers-the hotter the better, weird roots, and this is just a list of the ones I know the names of in English. Amazingly, the list goes on and on. 9) my knowledge of central and southern American authors and politicians has more than tripled. And no timmay, this does not mean that I am now backing out of your 2008 campaign. I stand behind you as a candidate and promise to lure and, or cajole whatever Spanish-speaking voters I can over to your side. Assuming there is a population of these voters in the steel and mine country of down-home Pennsylvania.

So I win my own little junior-achievers merit badge. Unfortunately, I have no sewing kit, so like the button to one of my 3 pairs of shorts, it will find itself a spectator with great seats to the marching of the ants which occurs every night. If you would tickets to this or any other event, please send cash or credit card number to the address below. This season is already packed with showstoppers. For example, “the dance of the mosquito, part 2: mixing, infecting, intoxicating: our blood together in the istmus,” or the heartrending “life on the street: dusty, dirty, damn, is that me that’s bleeding? the pack dog’s tale.”

coming back to the hammock again, I cannot tell you how much cooler it is to sleep in than a regular bed. The possibility of 360 degrees of breeze from fan and, with any luck, the air outside, really makes the hammock the preferred bedding here in mexico. A wise investment at the very least.

I really like making lists. I might be making more some time soon. Or not. You know, however it works out.

classes started up again today (it’s is Wednesday, march 1 for those that cant read my mind). I love my new level 5. they are all-stars. I have already dubbed them the fantastic fourteen. Ok, a rip-off, and not a very good one at that, but it is the first day. Give me time to let the magic work. Either way, to deserve a moniker after the first day is quite phenomenal. That’s right: they have nowhere left to go but down. Lower your expectations? Don’t mind if I do.

Level 2 is somewhat better than mediocre. One kid said something in Spanish under his breath, which I shant repeat because it was rude and profane and does not translate well, and then he realized two things: one, there were only 8 other students, fool, so everyone heard him; and two, his present teacher has a much better grasp of Spanish profanity than the previous. If the first realization did not shut him up, my reply that he best be watching his mouth definitely did. He turned into an angel after that.

If I have not mentioned it fifteen times already: the heat has returned. I miss January. True it was never cold but I wore a long sleeve shirt twice and was glad of it. As my Indian friend anish once told me while skiing the poconos (who knows how to spell that?) in pennsylvania over long winter weekend in boarding school: “dude, of course you’re not cold. You’re fucking Nordic.” and here we are.