i still wake up at 8 every morning thinking i need to bring the dog out.
it still feels strange to not be covered in boli hair.
that i don't get my morning abraxos from my puppy - i'd tap the front of my chest and say, abrazame, loco! and he'd jump up and i'd kneel down and we'd hug.
it hurts, a lot. even if i've regained my composure and have stopped crying hysterically, every now and then i feel like breaking down.
i miss him. a lot. ridiculously so. i mean, i had him with me all the time, and i sacrificed a lot for that dog, and it got me... to mexico city, at least.
but enough about the boli. i'm heartbroken, but that doesn't mean i should make everyone else's life miserable.
i've been consistantly bitching about mexico, methico, méxico. let's put the facts down, shall we?
cat's mexican adventure...
(or how cat got her grieve back, a true story! by cat!)
the cops took all my money in tijuana the night i arrived. this should have been a sign. the guy who picked me up hitchhiking expected me to pay for his food, gas, and cigarettes - this meant going up to taco stands with no money and offering to work the food back. while this guy sat in his car and waited. argh. i bailed on him very quickly.
then my fucking wisdom tooth decides it's not happy hanging out with the rest of my teeth, no, he has to go and try and move into my cheek! asshole! luckily thanks to some penicillin he was quickly shut up. let's hope he stays quiet for another while (but now i have health insurance, so it's cool).
i was stuck hitchhiking with a dumbass pathological liar named brad who was, and i quote, a male escort at 14 (must you say I was a male escort, i can see that you are a dude, dude, so the male really doesn't need to be said everytime, just say i was an escort, period, dipshit.) who travelled the world with a sadistic italian woman who would forbid him from leaving the hotel, so he got to go to all of these incredible places but only saw them from a window.
ok, how to shoot this one down: travelling alone when you are 14 is not easy, i know this because i did it a lot. this often happens when one parent lives in europe and the other in north america, yes? ok. so how the hell does this woman who has no parental liability over you manage to just pick you up and HOLD YOU AGAINST YOUR WILL and cross international borders with you? yeah, really.
his idea of hitchhiking was putting on a ridiculous "pity me" face and half assedly sticking his thumb out.
when i hitchhike, i´m usually bouncy and smiling, jumping around and doing pirouettes with my sign. in a way to say, hi! i´m a nice person! i won´t attack you.
brad, on the other hand, looked like a psycho. he looked angry. i wouldn´t have picked him up. no wonder it took me 2 weeks almost to get to la paz.
brad didn´t have any form of id when he crossed into mexico, making it almost impossible for him to go back to the states.. he thought that he would be coming along with me all the way to argentina, which made me chuckle: "You don´t have a passport." to which he would answer, using his angry face ("THIS IS MY ANGRY FACE. GRRR. I AM ANGRY. LOOK AT HOW ANGRY I AM." actually, you look like you´re constipated, and it´s kind of funny. don´t give me that look, it´s giving me the runs.), yes so as i was saying, he would put on this angry face and hiss, WATCH ME. he thought that going to the american embassy and saying he lost his passport would give him a new one... uh, news flash? your passport number is in the system. they can check if you actually had one. i swear, the american government has computers and knows how to use them. not the brightest crayon in the box, are you bradley?
watch you? sure, man, i´ll watch you get your ass deported, and i´ll laugh hysterically.
he also claimed to be a commercial fisherman, but continued lighting cigarettes with candles. what respect for your fellow sailors! oh, and that he would go up to alaska to go crab fishing every year, and yet didn`t know the exact number of days this season goes on for.
and last, he was a marine who had been dishonorably discharged for punching his drill sergeant in the face... and a mercenary!
and yet walking 5 km from the Pemex station to the Malecon in La Paz was too much for him. you were a mercenary, you say? and a marine? but you can´t walk with a 15 lb backpack (mine weighs about 50) for 5 km, and yet i´m practically running it, and i´ve never even been enlisted? oh pschaaaaaaaw, you, i hope our paths never cross again, and that your arm gets stuck in a crab pot up in alaska. oh, and by the way? your plans of stealing diamonds and money from that old dude? so not cool. when ramon told me they stole your dog, i figured, you had it coming for all of the shitty things you did. i still have nightmares of you waking up with that green crusty smile and saying "I had a wet dream about you". YOU DO NOT EVER, AND I MEAN YOU NEVER, EVER SAY THAT TO A WOMAN. how the hell did you make it to 30?!?!?!
i really hope i never see you again. bradley. ugh.
we all know i finally got rid of him, thanks to a beautiful pothead from michoacán.
who was a godsend, really. i mean, ok, yes, i got a little stung, serves me right for opting to sleep in warm bed smelling of lavender and marijuana rather than sleeping on cold tile smelling of bolivian canine, but at the same time it wasn´t so bad.
it was better than hanging out in mexican meth hotel with flying cockroaches and a scheming, lying gringo who looked like the dude from mad magazine and thought he was above the law. oh yes, i´d much rather hang out with mr. cheekbones at the beach and watch him surf while i nurse a cold pacifico and a cone than hang around drinking cheap mezcal from a plastic jug on a dirty mattress with mr green crusted snaggle tooth smile.
it was like being in a bad travel movie, where the free spirited hopeful heroine ends up in a bed and brothel wondering how the hell she`s going to escape, when suddenly the camera spins around and in walks the knight in shining armor. or in this case, pothead surfer with heart of gold. oh, and did i mention, drop dead gorgeous? man, i will never get over that. at least i got to... ahh.. taste.. a little. i would have liked to pig out rather than just have a little bite, but maybe in another lifetime.
and tiago. running away on me. oh god, you fucked up there, little one. i was hysterical, i was crying non stop, and i was freaking out for no reason, not saying much, just drinking and writing, drinking and writing... and then he returned and life went back to normal, consisting of "mija vente a fumar mota con migo" and "mija tienes que comer, vamos a desayunar tacos", and other mija thises and mija thats.
the mau experience was a strange one, for sure. on one hand i was totally blinded by the incredible light and energy that emanated from this man, and on the other was totally disgusted by us being totally smitten one day, and totally distant the next. in the end, though, i don`t regret it. mau really did show up at the right time, taking me out of a really shitty environment, feeding me, letting me stay with him, letting me roll joints and drink beer and pass out half naked in random parts of the house. and calling me "mija" all the time, awww, i miss him. i hope nothing but the best for him. i really think that in the 2 months i´ve been in mexico there are three faces that will stand out - giulia, mau and emiliano.
sidetracked! let´s continue.
i left la paz with my heart a little more broken than when i arrived, as usual meeting people i adore and having to leave them behind, it wears you out after a while. but i left with my spirits higher than when i had arrived in la paz, and confident that tiago and i would make it.
mazatlan wasn`t easy - but at least it was devoid of methicans (my pet name for mexican meth heads), flying cockroaches and asshole gringos. instead, i managed to land on an inspiring little beach, the island of stone, called the island of the stoned by many of the retired gringos who inhabited the island, which is actually a peninsula. john used to tell me to relax and consider it a vacation. a 10 day vacation! tiago loved it there. we'd go for runs, him in the water happily barking at the waves, at the birds, happily chomping away at fish that escaped from nets and washed ashore, and i would twirl his leash and practise my mediocre juggling.
and then one day hector came and forgot to close the gate, and tiago got out, but chris found him a few hours later and brought him back.. and i found my dog lethargic and unwilling to eat, unwilling to go for a run. it was the beginning of the end of the boli.
the rest is too recent for me to elaborate. it hurts too much to talk about the boli.
but through the hard times i notice there was always a silver lining. whether that silver lining be named giulia, mau, ale, john, alan, diego or emiliano (why so many men? why can`t i ever meet women? oh right, i scare them, gotcha. except for giulia la contessa, because i think she´s me in 30 years.), there have always been people willing to lend a hand to pick me up. granted i probably could have gotten up and limped, but it's always useful to have a crutch. and many crutches i have had. from close or afar... my blog readers, my friends all over the world, have also pitched in, without many of you i would probably still be stuck at mau´s.
yes, mexico has been one gigantic pedo. (for the record: pedo means fart in spanish, but in mexico they use it all the time, no hay pedo oue, no problem man, etc) mexico has been full of topes en el pinche camino. mexico has used me as an aztec sacrifice (even though, as emiliano pointed out, the aztec used to sacrifice people so the sun would keep on shining, ok. the sun does keep on shining, but regardless.), mexico stole my money, mexico stole my skirt (DAMN YOU BAHIA DE LOS SUENOS!), mexico stole my dog, TWICE, and gave him back sick, mexico ended up killing my dog, and mexico almost, i say almost, stole my light. it almost took my dignity and my hope.
but these days, even if i am boliless, even if last night i slept on a floor in a huge abandoned house, things seem to be looking up. i´ve made some great friends in mexico city. i´ve been having a blast discovering mexican curious thanks to emiliano, who really should convert himself into guide for non touristy tourists like myself. witches markets and trannies and pepas are cajetas which is actually dulce de leche but that doesn´t mean pepas are dulce de leche.
and i´ve gotten used to the idea of tacos for breakfast.
(actually. tacos are a very important meal. you have your guisanos, your campechanos, your nopales con queso, your chiles rellenos. you can turn anything into a taco. in fact, i told emiliano about poutine, and he thinks that poutine tacos would be great. so do i. then again we´d just smoked a fattie, so that would explain it.)
mexico, i´m sorry. i take it all back. you are a beautiful, amazing country, albeit fucked up like i´ve rarely seen... you have some serious issues, but then again..
don´t we all?