Paint the Silence

You will be pleased to hear that I have neither been killed nor kidnapped just yet. The reason for my recent asbsence from the blogosphere is very simple: I have a life. For a British student, this is quite an alien concept, but I literally have not had time to sit down for two hours and write a decent blog post. I am too much of a perfectionist to bash one out in a rush (opp, sexual), so I'm sorry, but I had to make you wait.

I have, however, shot myself in the foot by waiting for almost a month to update my blog, as I now have no idea where to start and I can't remember much before my breakfast this morning. Which was jam on toast. I'll just have to hope that things start coming back to me as I write. Let's see...

Colima's annual fair came to town at the start of November, and I was keen to go and get a feel for things as all my students were talking about their trips to the fear/fairy/fair. However, it will not surprise those who know me to learn that my two visits to the fair were spent knocking back beer in a makeshift nightclub, so I missed out on all of the rides and cultural things on offer. What a classy lady I am. In fact, here is a picture of me at that hideous stage of drunk when you think you are sexy but you really look like a psychopath:

Deeply disturbing.
I did experience one "cultural" gem, though, when a barman forced me to down a bottle of beer while blasting a whistle in my ear, before shaking my head vigorously for ten seconds. Somehow, I didn't vom. It was like freshers all over again.

The following weekend, I went to a beach in the nearby town of Tecoman with some friends from the University. This trip followed an extensive search throughout Colima for a bikini costing under 50GBP. For a town where a beer or a twenty minute taxi ride cost just over 1GBP, the cost of clothes is a bit of a punch in the stomach. And I felt even more of an idiot for the fact that I have about 6 bikinis in England, but it didn't occurr to me to pack even one before moving to the southern coast of Mexico. I'm clever like that. Anyway, I eventually got hold of one and was able to spend a lovely day of sun, sea, sand and cheladas with a great group of people. The beach was far from attractive, especially in the aftermath of hurricane Jova, but it hit the spot.

After my day at the beach, the poop hit the fan a bit with regards to the musical I am writing, “Good Grief”, as I had to get it finished and prepare a pitch in order to put it forward to be showcased at next year's Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Bit by bit, things started to fall into place, and I started to see just how special it could be if it was given the chance. My fabulous friend and composer, Steph, bowled me over with how much she's developed as a composer in the last year, and I found myself feeling sick with an uneasing mixture of excitement for the show's potential, and terror that the committee would decide against taking it to the Fringe. I gnawed my fingernails down to their stubs and developed all sorts of nervous ticks as the deadline got increasingly closer. Dancing became a way of blowing off steam, and I found myself training for two hours a day at least 3 times a week, improving bit by bit while also giving myself some time and space to take a step back from the script and come up with new ideas. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I started to really fall in love with dancing.

Eventually, the date of the pitch, and the committee's subsequent decision, came around. My beautiful team propped “Lucy Laptop” up at the front of the lecture theatre, and I, being such a professional soul, proceeded to flash my boobs and discuss the important topic of poo with the room. I suppose my cronic footinmouth/titflashing disease must have been counteracted by my talented team members, as we won the pitch! So I am now extremely proud and very excited to tell you that “Good Grief” will be performed at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in August 2012! Of course, the hard work really starts now, but it is really nice to know that I have something concrete to look forward to when I leave Mexico next July.

Aside from Good Grief and my extraordinarily pants attempts at teaching English, the only big headache I've experienced in Mexico has come in the form of the CURP – the document I need to get hold of in order to be considered a student resident in Mexico. I can't pretend that this problem is not largely my fault; we were told to go to immigration within 30 days of arriving in Mexico, and I showed my face there for the first time last Friday. Subsequently, I was whacked with a 50GBP fine on top of the 30GBP fee. Opps.

Actually, there is more to this story. First of all, the benefit of having to get my papers was that the office is situated in the port town of Manzanillo, so my compulsory trip to the immigration office also doubled up as a weekend at the beach. However, it was all a bit Mexican in terms of organisation, and things went a bit tits up when I arrived at the office at 1pm on Friday to find that it was already closing. At 1pm. Welcome to Mexico. “OK”, I thought, “I shall stay an extra day in Manzanillo and go on Monday.” Simples. But that Monday just happened to be the anniversary of the Mexican Revolution, so the office would not be opening. Oh Karma, my old friend.

Staying an extra two nights was not an option, as I discovered that Manzanillo is substantially more expensive than inland Colima because it is one of the most important ports of the Pacific Ocean. I spent an amazing weekend there, making some lame attempt to tan my milky white skin whilst drinking a lot of beer and taking an occasional dip in the sea. On the Sunday, I came back to Colima and spent the evening at a parade in nearby Comala with some kids from a local highschool who come to our dance class. They were performing a dance in the parade, and I got to sit in the back of the camioneta like a queen while we made our way through the town. I think that probably pissed off the local beauty queens who were taking their role as “girlsittingonacarwaving” alarmingly seriously, but never mind.

On Tuesday my body woke up far too early and took the coach back to Manzanillo. By the time the coach arrived in the town, my mind had caught up, and I made my way over to the immigration office, where I finally sorted my papers out and parted with all the money I had on my emergency card. I did make the (valid, if you ask me) point that I had been required to produce evidence that I was in a financial position to support myself in Mexico, but they subsequentially robbed me of all of my remaining funds, leaving me with a total of 2GBP in the world until I was able to change my cheque from work. I begged her not to charge me the full amount, since I was in Mexico City for the first week when I arrived in the country, and lost another week when hurricane Jova hit the town. The heartless bitch didn't even blink.

The important thing, though, is that I now have money and papers. I am also owed 40GBP by a friend, so hopefully I'll get that back soon and will be able to afford to buy my family's Christmas presents. Pity me.

In a few week's time I'll be spending the weekend in Acapulco for a salsa competition (as a spectator!) before going to Mexico City, from where I'll be taking a flight to England to spend 12 days with my family. I'll be coming back to Mexico in time for New Year's eve and then spending a couple of weeks travelling around with my friends before going to Puerto Vallarta for a week's holiday with my mum. So, I've got plenty to be looking forward to!

Well, that's an update of the basic events of the last few weeks! I'm hoping to be able to write a slightly more politically/socially informative blog post in the next few days, as there is a lot to say!

For now, though, I think I will say goodnight and go.

The World at Large

Oh, la vida Mexicana is something else.


I am a month into my time here, and I have already decided not to take my scheduled flight home in June. This from the girl who spent the months running up to her departure wishing she didn't have to leave all her beautiful friends and dreams behind in England. I am very fortunate to have an incredible life in Southampton: I was an active member of the Performing Arts society there and, as such, my peer group is largely made up of other PA members, rather than languages students. This means that, by the time I go back to England, most of my closest friends will have graduated and I will effectively be starting all over again! It's no surprise, then, that at my leaving party, I cried every time anyone so much as squeezed my hand. But here I am, one month in, and I know that I made the most fantastic decision by choosing to come to Mexico on my year abroad.


Where to start, where to start ..? Well, as I have mentioned, the food here is absolutely incredible. I'm lucky in that the family I live with is quite health-conscious, so when I eat at home the food is delish but doesn't threaten me with heart problems. Eating out is a bit of a different story, as it's all tortillas, fat and salt. Last night I had my first encounter with street food (against the advice of EVERYONE I have met), and it is certainly true that 5 days worth of unwashed hands makes for bloody tasty food. I think I must have a stomach of steel, as it hasn't effected me at all! You can all laugh at me for being so cocky when I'm in hospital on a saline drip in a few days time, I suppose ...


Happily, though, I have been doing plenty of exercise, so hopefully I won't pile on too many pounds over here! By some fantastic luck, I have become great friends with one of the best salsa dancers in the country, and he is working me like a mule in the hope of transforming me into una gran bailarina by the time I go back to England. I feel a bit like I'm in boot camp - my feet are torn to shreds and I can barely walk for pulled muscles - but it's so much fun, and once the music turns on I quickly forget how much pain I'm in. We do a few private classes together, and I also go to his group sessions, where I loiter near the back and hope no one looks at me! The class is for advanced dancers and, as I only started 2 weeks ago, I do feel like a baby elephant in comparison with some of the other girls, but they are all too lovely to laugh at me. Having said that, the teacher is very sought after by girls, and there is noticeable envy towards me because I have become his latest project. He is determined to make me into a brilliant dancer, probably more for the sake of his ego than anything, which means he's dedicating a lot of time to me individually. Of course, the girls have no real reason to feel jealous (I'd have to be a bit of an idiot to write about him in my blog, otherwise!), but I'm having great fun and meeting lots of new people through him.


Work has also proved a helpful way to find friends and expand my horizons. Most of my students are my age, and I've invited them all to add me as a friend on fb and take my number. This results in invitations to parties aplenty, which is pretty fab. I also have a few adult students, such as a 40 year old woman who has invited me on her family holiday in a few week's time! This might seem really odd to you, but here in Mexico it is nothing out of the ordinary. This is the sort of country where you cannot sit alone on a park bench or walk alone into a bar without people inviting you over to sit with them and tell them your life story over a beer or two. Or three. Or more. I'm certainly not in Kansas anymore!


On the topic of work ...
Allow me to explain how my job works. The students at the University have to earn credits outside of their selected degree area, which means that they must spend a certain amount of time in "El Centro de Auto Acceso de Lenguas" every week. My job, therefore, is basically to sit and chat with each group for an hour. Most of my students have very low levels of English comprehension and speaking skills, so the classes have become as much a Spanish lesson for me as an English lesson for them! I would also question my suitability as a teacher, as many of my students now know how the drug classing system in the UK works, what a gin & tonic is, and how to say things like "They f**ked like bunnies". Unluckily for me, they have to write a report after the class to prove that they attended, what they learned, how they felt things went, etc. They are all on strict instructions to LIE!


As you (should) know, Día de Muertos is a big celebration here in Mexico, so there are no classes for the rest of the week. This means that, since Friday, I have worked a total of three hours. It doesn't get much better than that! Not too sure about how best to spend my time off, but I am hoping either to go to Morelia in the neighbouring state of Michoacan or to the nearby coastal town of Manzanillo for a few days on the beach!  Either way, there's a fair in Colima at the moment, so I'll be spending my evening there with a few friends. On the subject of parties, I have a little anecdote for you all! Last Friday I went to a Halloween party thrown by some of the students at the Uni. As Liz was ill, I arrived alone, but did not stay alone for long. Since it's pretty hard to hide that I am foreign, thanks to my really bloody pale skin tone and ginger hair, I found myself having tequila poured into my mouth at regular intervals by locals trying to make sure that I got a warm welcome to the Mexican way of life! Bloody hell. Anyway, the party came to an end and we made plans to head over to an after party at an Erasmus house in the centre of town. However, I had to stay behind with a friend as he'd helped to organise the party and was expected to clean up. Suddenly, things turned sour as some of the more drunken party-goers decided they weren't ready to go home and were prepared to do anything to get back into the complex. A short fight ensued, and the people on our side managed to shut the big metal gate to keep them out. Then a glass bottle smashed near my feet, and we realised that they were throwing everything they could find over the walls. It was all very dramatic, and I found myself laughing rather than panicking, as I thought to myself "Welcome to Mexico ..!" The bottles kept coming, but the police eventually arrived and soon everything was under control so we abandoned the clean-up and headed straight to the after party. I got home at about 7am the following morning, after a tequila-fuelled night of hilarity. To add an extra lick of paint to the whole affair, I also managed to sleep through an impressively strong earthquake because I was so hungover. I got a panicked knock on the door from Liz and phone calls from friends to check I was ok after it happened, and I just said "What earthquake? Oh ..!"
So. Woops.


Anyway, the basic gist is that life couldn't be sweeter right now. I miss my friends in England SO much, and there are days when I go to bed and wish there was a Sam Gray, an Alexis Forss, a Leanne Shorley or a Libby Buckland there to snuggle with, but I would not swap this experience for the world. Viva Mexico ;)