Two in one day!!!

So much writing you say! Yes, it is true. I had to do two separate blog entries in one day to have a logical break from the swine flu (although there is so much more to write on that subject!) and other recent novelties in Mexico. Such as:

A twelve hour cross-country excursion in a small pickup truck with a flatbed, where my three couches, kitchen table and miscellaneous suitcases, boxes and bags were loaded under a plastic tarp. Oscar and I were scrunched in next to the driver, without a radio, no air conditioning and enjoying the view of the states of Jalisco, Michoacan, Queretaro, Mexico state, Hidalgo, and finally Puebla. We stopped and shared a family special of grilled chicken at mid-day and all ordered Sangria sodas.

A visit to the Home Depot (really, the superstore, here in Puebla), where two grown men (one nearly elderly) duked it out in one of the checkout lines, causing people to gasp and stare and women to scream when knocked down. Who the hell knows what motivates humans to behave like beasts, especially when we are talking about electrical wiring, prefabricated kitchens and shades of paint.

A Wednesday evening adventure, selling our polo shirts with the Puebla FC patch embroidered on the front and screen-printing on the back (you can see the model here> www.stampa-t.blogspot.com) at the Puebla soccer stadium in the quarter finals of the semi-annual Mexican soccer league championship. Only Charlie wasn't reluctant at first, because he has worked as a mechanic, a valet parker, a car detailer, in a tailor's shop, etc. and is passionate about anything. Miriam is quiet anyway, so she never did make too much noise. Oscar made several deals, because he is a social guy. Arturo used a lot of street slang to get the job done. My personal style was to accentuate the shirt's features by giving a little twirl while explaining it, and follow-up with the girls who hestitated when they walked by. I told one girl that it would match her earrings, and motivated the boyfriends of three girls to buy them for their girlfriends. There were other randoms sales and a lot of silly responses from people who don't expect a foreign woman to be peddling t-shirts in the parking lot. We sold over 30 shirts that night though, and more than 50 to date!

People doing the following:

One foot out, quick piroutte, heel click to finish the 360 degree movement. (His khaki vest fluttered out gracefully during the motion.) Again he is facing the traffic, standing on a street corner at an interection where our bus is stopped next to a car blaring banda music. Could that be his motivation? A girl in pressed gray dress pants is singing along, passionately, to the same song, nevermind the rest of the passengers. And the other day, and older man was singing acapello on the bus from his seat, and this time not to earn money, but evidently because the spirit so moved him.

A gent in a suit, standing in a short alleyway with a friend, flying a remote control helicoptor at 1 p.m. on a Tuesday. The helicoptor was reluctant to take flight.

A mother with her daughter, inquiring about one of our shirts, who grabs her daughter's arm and whips her back towards the sidewalk when Lola, lounging in the workshop on a late afternoon, stands up and wags her tail briskly, saying "Stay away! That dog will chew you up!"

And since I love observing people, there will be more to come.

The Lost Poem and Lola the Saint Bernard

I promised a poem about cubre-bocas weeks ago, back when they were more fashionable and in-demand, put I put it on hold while trying to leave my job, move across the country and radically modify the rhythm of my days. Without further ado, however, here is the poem.

But first, I will tell that Lola, my lone comapanion as I write this, just situated herself quite comfortably on our newly uncovered couch (previously covered in boxes, suitcases and other inappropriate living room decor). At least we bathed her two days ago!

Ahem. The poem:

A drop of sweat slides down my calf.
I am clutching a cloth bag with
six bottles of spirits and wine
hoping no one claims this
yellow special needs seat
because there are no others left.
A couple boards, wearing matching
face masks. They cannot kiss like that.
A young woman holds a scarf to her
mouth, nearly the same electric
blue as the surgical mouth covers.
She is improvising. Still, she is not safe.
She is behind the woman who withdrew
her hand before actually touching
the man who didn't respond
to her request to move over.
Someone else got his attention.
I am rolling and folding the thin
bus ticket between my fingers,
the same one that the driver touched.
The bus finally stops for me.
Perhaps there was a collective,
albeit shallow, sigh of relief:
she has taken her potential germs.
She was not wearing a cubrebocas.