Hello friends,
Thanks for stopping by. It has been a while since my last bloggery, but alas, I sometimes come in here and start to write things and it just comes out as random bitching and boring "what-Lee-had-for-lunch" stories, so I abort.
I'm pro-choice when it comes to blogs. If you don't want to post that entry, go ahead and vacuum it out of the internet's bloody vagina.
Too much?
Yeah, well, This blog is not for minors. Or majors. Unless you're like, a criminal psychology major. Then nothing fazes you. Just like Actor on Popular Murder Investigation Show. He's so hunky. Those bastard writers on PMIS don't give him enough dark steamy locker-room scenes, though.
I digress. Life in Mexico is just as dreamy as ever. Breathe in the smog, choke on the chile, run from the rain. It's a wild ride. Indeed it is the rainy season here, it pours down for at least an hour or two pretty much every day, never really gets above 80 when it's sunny. It's nice compared to the stories I've been hearing from the Denver contingent, about it being 90+ all day and night. That probably sucks. [Muntz] Ha-Ha! [/Muntz]
Trying to tell people here what my name is, like for restaurant reservations, radio taxis, local sales calls . . . is some kind of ridiculous joke. I'm pretty much resigned to the fact that I'm Luis Sander. I've considered just starting to use my old Spanish-class nickname, "Emilio," but I never have the gall to outright tell someone that's what my name is.
So I say "Lee Saunders"
And they say "Luis Sander?"
And i say "*sigh* . . . . Sí . . . Luis Sander."
So if someone calls you telling you you need to send money to bail Luis Sander out of jail or something, help a brother out.
Luis would really appreciate that.
In lighter news, I have just recently put a deposit down on an apartment for myself here, which is exciting. I have been living up until now in a furnished suite-type place, they clean everyday, make my bed, it has dishes and toilet paper provided, etc. On the company's tab. So that honeymoon is now over, I'm moving to my own place, still in Colonia Condesa (I'm far too white and scared to move to a different Colonia) but kind of on the east-ish side. I'm only a block from the gorgeous and fabulously intricate Parque México, which is nice, it's a very tree-filled part of the neighborhood. I'm on the 6th floor with a fantastic patio view overlooking the park and part of the city out that direction, so it's very cool.
Cost of living in that sense is about the same here as it would be in the US, despite popular (ignorant) opinion that anyone with a normal professional job like mine would be "living like a king" down here. I'm shelling out $9,000 pesos a month for the next year for this puppy, so I hope you will come and visit me and stay there a night. Soon as I buy some furniture this option will be much more viable.
I made sure to move to a street that I could be sure that neither my parents nor my friends nor God himself, in his noodly-appendaged glory, could pronounce, just for good measure.
Say there Lee, I've heard you're all settled in your new place, and I think that it's just tops. Give me your address so I can send you a letter and some photos of me tending the gardens, won't you?
Certainly, Madame Bontroix, it's Ixtaccihuatl number 123, dept 105, Colonia Condesa, Mexico DF
Gracious me, whatever was that address?
^^That is generally what my conversations sound like, fyi.^^
See the title of this blog post for pronunciation. Its-tuh-see-wat-ull. Or maybe just its-tah-see-wat. I'm actually not too sure myself. You should have heard me making the calls to the owners to find out more information:
Um yes, hi, I'm looking for an apartment and I saw this number on a building on calle Itstacheetl? Istaucatlah? Ixtuhwachichi? Itchywatchband? Kajagoogoo?
Yeah, it's fun. But yeah, so i'm going to be getting some sexy leather couches, a nice big bed, some tables . . . maybe some funky paintings . . . you know . . . your average furninshings. Maybe some dishes. This paragraph pretty much sums up the excitement and raw energy that comprises the world of the Blog.
Other than that, I've just been coming to work in my little coat-and-tie, trying to sell billboards to people. Had a couple little successes recently, can't complain. Got my Ipod all loaded up finally, many thanks to Austin L. of Providence, RI for hooking up 141 fantastic albums for me to chew on. I finally got around to probando those, some great stuff. I recommend any of you pick up the album "The Sunset Tree" by the Mountain Goats if you're feeling like cooling off, or the album "Bring it Back" by Mates of State if you're feeling like heating up. For those with more tepid-temperate tastes, there's always the radio, you lamewad vanilla fartsack.
Also, I officially heart the NPR podcast of "Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me!" If you're not into this, you should be. It's so awesome.
My sweet darling wonderful Elizabeth is coming to see me this weekend. I feel a bit like a soldier who hasn't seen his woman after being bivouacked for 3 years. Granted we've only been apart 3 months and have talked on the vast majority of days, but hey. Give a guy a chance to use the word "bivouacked," will ya?
So anyhow, things are looking up. Still no pictures, I need to buy a new digicam, officially. I think the batteries on mine were made by a high-school physics class using copper wire and lime juice concentrate. Also i don't think i even have the cord to connect it to the computer. I'll work on that.
Bye to all, hope you are all having fun out there. Drop me an email to leemsaundersATgmail or a comment here and let me know about it!
--Lee
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 2, 2007
Try to catch me White and Nerdy
Hello patrons,
Thanks for stopping by to read about me. Nothing too exciting has happened, but maybe as I start to write, something fun will re-occur to me. Here goes nothing.
So I did end up going to the pyramids at Teotihuacan the other weekend, i have pictures on my camera, but i haven't gotten up the gusto to bring my camera in to work and plug it into my computer here. I don't exactly sit in an office, not a lot of privacy for non-work-related computer goings-on. But, imagine me in front of some busted looking pyramids, with a bunch of Mexicans all around. You got the gist.
So that was cool, then that night I ended up going with my friend Carina and the whole crew (mostly her immediate and non-immediate family) went back to their spot in Itztapalapa (which i think is Spanish for "wonderland of garbage-eating dogs and houses built out of old tires and soda cans," it's a colloquial translation) to attend the birthday party of Carina's uncle or somesuch. Naturally I was the only "guero" (read: whitey) there, and since we had been in Teotihuacan all day, i was still rocking the shorts. Turns out they don't sell shorts in Mexico City. So, nobody has them. Except whitey.
So man, this birthday party, her uncle, whose b-day it is, introduces himself and asks what i want to drink, i say i'll just have whatever my friend here is having, Miguel, Carina's boyfriend. Well, he's having a brandy and coke. That sounds fine. But, alas, it doesn't sound so fine to Mr. Uncle.
"Que, no te gusta el tequila?" (wha, you don like-a the tequila?)
"Oh . . . pues, sí, me gusta el tequila" (um, oh, um sure, of course i like tequila)
Of course I like tequila, pal. I thought perhaps this was just a cultural inquiry, wondering if someone as gangly and un-Mexican as I could enjoy the fruit of the mexican, um, cactus . . . thing . . . or however they make tequila.
Alas, this was no cultural inquiry, guy comes back with Miguel's refreshing-looking brandy and coke, and my shot of tequila and a lime. Ah, just what the doctor ordered after a day in the sun. A shot of room temperature tequila. And of course, he hawked over me until i had finished it, and promptly got me another. Ah, just what the doctor ordered after a shot of warm tequila after a long day in the sun before dinner, another shot of tequila. Mexican doctors apparently are really shitty at knowing what to order.
So, yeah, eventually i switched to "palomas", a cocktail that is tequila and squirt soda, actually pretty tasty. But man, at this point, Johnny Uncle now is demanding to know whether i know how to dance. Well, sure I know how to dance. I mean, i went to junior high. I can "shout". I can "jump around". Hell, I can slowly revolve to "On Bended Knee" all night, pops. Bring it.
Yeah, well, he meant like, dancing with a partner, where you have the one hand up and the one hand on the hip, and it's like two steps here, one backward there, some spinning action, little bit of toe-tappin, maybe some light bravado . . . yeah i don't know how to do that. Maybe if I had let old Gary drag me into that swing-dancing fad she was so big on . . . but i'm pretty sure i thought that was really ghey at the time. Which ain't helping me now. Naturally, lonely single Aunt somethin'orother wants to teach me to dance. Except not really, she just wants me to dance with her, and then look at me disappointedly when I suck. Great.
Turns out they eventually put on some other kind of music, cumbia or duranguese or something, which is more of a quick-stomp kind of dance. Well, i apparently excelled at this one. Lonely Horny Aunt was quick to grab me out of my chair and get me dancing with her, and this time no looks of remorse were inspired. Other random aunt got up and phsyically advised me to keep my hands behind my back for this type of dance. I guess that's the way you do it. So yeah, dancing like this takes a lot of energy, and I'm running on tequila fumes, sand and a big june bug i swallowed on the ride home at this point. The machine is clearly sending out the DO NOT WANT call, yet Sally Auntsalot is having nothing to do with it. I sit down between songs, she is back to grab me as the next one starts up. Holy bad sausage, it was rough. Luckily they hired a live mariachi band to play, and they showed up and the other kind of dancing took hold again, and even their 90 some odd year old grandma at this point had given me a dancin' chance, and quickly regretted it. So i got some rest. All in all, it was a great party. Great like a carbonite hangover is great. "I can't see!" "ya-to, ya-to."
So, yeah, beyond that, I've been hanging out low-pro in Condesa, walking around looking at possible places to rent when the time comes for me to get out in my own place on my own dime, which is around August 20-ish. I'll very most likely be staying in La Condesa, there are plenty of places for rent, and the safety and quality of restaurants/bars/closeness-to-work are mighty fine.
I also went to Puerto Vallarta two weekends ago, my parents Laurel and Steve helped get me invited to join them on the Pepsi Center corporate sponsor thank-you trip, which was awesome. Really awesome considering I did very little sponsoring of the Pepsi Center this year. It was great to see the folks and some other CO people, chat in English and such.
The first night i had a few beers on the beach at the welcome dinner after watching the USA win at soccer over Canada in the Gold Cup. I ended up at the hotel bar next to a smug bald guy who proceded to grill me about my love for America, and when i didn't gush patriotism, proceded to grill me with "you had an opportunity, the opportunity of a lifetime, and you blew it" for about 2 hours. Guy kept saying how fantastic my abilities in Spanish and English were, and how I was a really smart kid, which he would immediately counter with "you talk too f*cking much, you need to learn when to shut the f*ck up" and such. I eventually tried to figure out what said "opportunity" was that i "blew," only to eventually get him to mention that he used to be in the military or something, and that I should go to Peru to be an "operative" for America, or something like that. He mostly just yelled at me and made numerous drunken futile attempts to re-light his cigar. I hope that guy dies in a fire.
Then the next morning we went a-swinging in the jungle, sliding on crazy rope-swing things on this "canopy tour." That was a trip, they hook you up with the full climbing-gear harness, and then there's a whole team of guys that travels with you from little plastic platform at the top of the trees to other platforms, they hook your harness to the rope and you just slide across, like hundreds of feet at a time, about a hundred feet of the ground. It was awesome. It ended with a free-rapell, which was new to me. All in all, very enjoyable. The "free" part didn't hurt either.
Basically the rest of my weekend consisted of drinking in the pool, walking the beach, eating seafood, and going to nightclubs downtown Puerto Vallarta. Turns out, even if you speak fantastic conversational, formal, and slang spanish, Mexican girls still don't want to dance with your big white ass, even if you are the only guy coming up to their group of 8 girls, even if you play the cool glance-re-glance game, even if you blablablablabla, and you make them laugh, doesn't matter. You are a big gringo and you will be dancing alone this evening. So yeah, massive strike-outs were involved there. Quite humbling. All i wanted was someone to dance with. I figured "psshh, the American girls, ha! I speak Spanish, I live in Mexico, i'm gonna go find a Mexican lady to dance with!" Oh, ho, yeah. Not so much.
So yeah, I'm back in Mexico City now, back hard at work trying to sell some billboards. Let me know if you want one. Rates are rock-bottom. Yeah. Still not too sure about this whole "sales" gig. Pretty much an awful idea for how to act/work. But, it has brought me to a new country, doing new things, so, can't complain that much .
I'll post those pictures sometime soon. Hope you are all rocking, possibly also rolling.
--Lee
Thanks for stopping by to read about me. Nothing too exciting has happened, but maybe as I start to write, something fun will re-occur to me. Here goes nothing.
So I did end up going to the pyramids at Teotihuacan the other weekend, i have pictures on my camera, but i haven't gotten up the gusto to bring my camera in to work and plug it into my computer here. I don't exactly sit in an office, not a lot of privacy for non-work-related computer goings-on. But, imagine me in front of some busted looking pyramids, with a bunch of Mexicans all around. You got the gist.
So that was cool, then that night I ended up going with my friend Carina and the whole crew (mostly her immediate and non-immediate family) went back to their spot in Itztapalapa (which i think is Spanish for "wonderland of garbage-eating dogs and houses built out of old tires and soda cans," it's a colloquial translation) to attend the birthday party of Carina's uncle or somesuch. Naturally I was the only "guero" (read: whitey) there, and since we had been in Teotihuacan all day, i was still rocking the shorts. Turns out they don't sell shorts in Mexico City. So, nobody has them. Except whitey.
So man, this birthday party, her uncle, whose b-day it is, introduces himself and asks what i want to drink, i say i'll just have whatever my friend here is having, Miguel, Carina's boyfriend. Well, he's having a brandy and coke. That sounds fine. But, alas, it doesn't sound so fine to Mr. Uncle.
"Que, no te gusta el tequila?" (wha, you don like-a the tequila?)
"Oh . . . pues, sí, me gusta el tequila" (um, oh, um sure, of course i like tequila)
Of course I like tequila, pal. I thought perhaps this was just a cultural inquiry, wondering if someone as gangly and un-Mexican as I could enjoy the fruit of the mexican, um, cactus . . . thing . . . or however they make tequila.
Alas, this was no cultural inquiry, guy comes back with Miguel's refreshing-looking brandy and coke, and my shot of tequila and a lime. Ah, just what the doctor ordered after a day in the sun. A shot of room temperature tequila. And of course, he hawked over me until i had finished it, and promptly got me another. Ah, just what the doctor ordered after a shot of warm tequila after a long day in the sun before dinner, another shot of tequila. Mexican doctors apparently are really shitty at knowing what to order.
So, yeah, eventually i switched to "palomas", a cocktail that is tequila and squirt soda, actually pretty tasty. But man, at this point, Johnny Uncle now is demanding to know whether i know how to dance. Well, sure I know how to dance. I mean, i went to junior high. I can "shout". I can "jump around". Hell, I can slowly revolve to "On Bended Knee" all night, pops. Bring it.
Yeah, well, he meant like, dancing with a partner, where you have the one hand up and the one hand on the hip, and it's like two steps here, one backward there, some spinning action, little bit of toe-tappin, maybe some light bravado . . . yeah i don't know how to do that. Maybe if I had let old Gary drag me into that swing-dancing fad she was so big on . . . but i'm pretty sure i thought that was really ghey at the time. Which ain't helping me now. Naturally, lonely single Aunt somethin'orother wants to teach me to dance. Except not really, she just wants me to dance with her, and then look at me disappointedly when I suck. Great.
Turns out they eventually put on some other kind of music, cumbia or duranguese or something, which is more of a quick-stomp kind of dance. Well, i apparently excelled at this one. Lonely Horny Aunt was quick to grab me out of my chair and get me dancing with her, and this time no looks of remorse were inspired. Other random aunt got up and phsyically advised me to keep my hands behind my back for this type of dance. I guess that's the way you do it. So yeah, dancing like this takes a lot of energy, and I'm running on tequila fumes, sand and a big june bug i swallowed on the ride home at this point. The machine is clearly sending out the DO NOT WANT call, yet Sally Auntsalot is having nothing to do with it. I sit down between songs, she is back to grab me as the next one starts up. Holy bad sausage, it was rough. Luckily they hired a live mariachi band to play, and they showed up and the other kind of dancing took hold again, and even their 90 some odd year old grandma at this point had given me a dancin' chance, and quickly regretted it. So i got some rest. All in all, it was a great party. Great like a carbonite hangover is great. "I can't see!" "ya-to, ya-to."
So, yeah, beyond that, I've been hanging out low-pro in Condesa, walking around looking at possible places to rent when the time comes for me to get out in my own place on my own dime, which is around August 20-ish. I'll very most likely be staying in La Condesa, there are plenty of places for rent, and the safety and quality of restaurants/bars/closeness-to-work are mighty fine.
I also went to Puerto Vallarta two weekends ago, my parents Laurel and Steve helped get me invited to join them on the Pepsi Center corporate sponsor thank-you trip, which was awesome. Really awesome considering I did very little sponsoring of the Pepsi Center this year. It was great to see the folks and some other CO people, chat in English and such.
The first night i had a few beers on the beach at the welcome dinner after watching the USA win at soccer over Canada in the Gold Cup. I ended up at the hotel bar next to a smug bald guy who proceded to grill me about my love for America, and when i didn't gush patriotism, proceded to grill me with "you had an opportunity, the opportunity of a lifetime, and you blew it" for about 2 hours. Guy kept saying how fantastic my abilities in Spanish and English were, and how I was a really smart kid, which he would immediately counter with "you talk too f*cking much, you need to learn when to shut the f*ck up" and such. I eventually tried to figure out what said "opportunity" was that i "blew," only to eventually get him to mention that he used to be in the military or something, and that I should go to Peru to be an "operative" for America, or something like that. He mostly just yelled at me and made numerous drunken futile attempts to re-light his cigar. I hope that guy dies in a fire.
Then the next morning we went a-swinging in the jungle, sliding on crazy rope-swing things on this "canopy tour." That was a trip, they hook you up with the full climbing-gear harness, and then there's a whole team of guys that travels with you from little plastic platform at the top of the trees to other platforms, they hook your harness to the rope and you just slide across, like hundreds of feet at a time, about a hundred feet of the ground. It was awesome. It ended with a free-rapell, which was new to me. All in all, very enjoyable. The "free" part didn't hurt either.
Basically the rest of my weekend consisted of drinking in the pool, walking the beach, eating seafood, and going to nightclubs downtown Puerto Vallarta. Turns out, even if you speak fantastic conversational, formal, and slang spanish, Mexican girls still don't want to dance with your big white ass, even if you are the only guy coming up to their group of 8 girls, even if you play the cool glance-re-glance game, even if you blablablablabla, and you make them laugh, doesn't matter. You are a big gringo and you will be dancing alone this evening. So yeah, massive strike-outs were involved there. Quite humbling. All i wanted was someone to dance with. I figured "psshh, the American girls, ha! I speak Spanish, I live in Mexico, i'm gonna go find a Mexican lady to dance with!" Oh, ho, yeah. Not so much.
So yeah, I'm back in Mexico City now, back hard at work trying to sell some billboards. Let me know if you want one. Rates are rock-bottom. Yeah. Still not too sure about this whole "sales" gig. Pretty much an awful idea for how to act/work. But, it has brought me to a new country, doing new things, so, can't complain that much .
I'll post those pictures sometime soon. Hope you are all rocking, possibly also rolling.
--Lee
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Let's Talk About Mex, Baby
What an adventure, gang, what an adventure.
This place is nuts. Streets have no regard for bearing in any estimable cardinal direction. Right angles were a completely lost concept on the street-builders of Mexico City. Pythagoras would shit a brick in this place.
As such, I generally travel around having no clue where I am. I ride in taxis and am sure that I am being kidnapped, taken to some remote corner of the city, only to magically arrive at my destination. Most of the taxi drivers just laugh at me when i ask them if they are sure of the route they're taking. Of course they are, silly gringo.
I have been posted up in my apartment in Colonia La Condesa for a few weeks now. I've managed to memorize a walking route to the Superama grocery store and the Parque México a few blocks over. My neighborhood is quaint, mostly consisting of Japanese restaurants and fancy furniture galleries. Like, on every other block. It's pretty hilarious. Sushi down here has cream cheese in everything, though. Not so hot.
The amount of soccer that comes on the tele down here is phenomenal. Did anybody see that craziness in the Denmark - Sweden Euro 2008 Qualifier? Yeah, I pretty much figured you didn't. Americans, so soccer-deprived. Trust me, it was noteworthy. Worthy of a note. Which is what this paragraph serves as, I suppose.
I like to write in parallels. Thenceforth I will relate to you something totally awesome about living in Mexico City, and something that is totally balls.
Awesome: I have a "muchacha" that comes and cleans my house everyday. I'm talking does my laundry, ironing, dishes, sheets, bathroom, trash, the whole mcgarnigle. I pay her 60 pesos, about 6 bucks. A week.
Balls: Indoor plumbing in Mexico only got halfway there. They've got the water-closet, just like home. But, don't even think about sending the paper down with your departed pool patrons. I can't explain to you the melange of odors that a bathroom-wastebasket full of an entire party's poo-shards exudes. I genuinely can't.
I have managed to meet a whole slew of ex-pats in my neighborhood, mostly middle or east-coast Americans and Brits. The guys have invited (read: demanded) that i join their rugby team. Man, i was really hoping that guy was going to say "soccer" after he asked me if i liked to play sports, oh well we have a ________ team. So yeah, since you are all aware of my prowess as a rough & tumble, hard-core, piece-of-iron-like-rocky-in-rocky-IV status, I'll let you know how many guys I make cry whilst flexing my solarplexi and generally crushing. Sigh . . .
That's it for now, pictures coming soon. Headed to the pyramids at Teotihuacan (tay-oh-tee-ooh!-aah! . . . Khan!) this weekend. Photo update next week. Keesses!
--Lee
This place is nuts. Streets have no regard for bearing in any estimable cardinal direction. Right angles were a completely lost concept on the street-builders of Mexico City. Pythagoras would shit a brick in this place.
As such, I generally travel around having no clue where I am. I ride in taxis and am sure that I am being kidnapped, taken to some remote corner of the city, only to magically arrive at my destination. Most of the taxi drivers just laugh at me when i ask them if they are sure of the route they're taking. Of course they are, silly gringo.
I have been posted up in my apartment in Colonia La Condesa for a few weeks now. I've managed to memorize a walking route to the Superama grocery store and the Parque México a few blocks over. My neighborhood is quaint, mostly consisting of Japanese restaurants and fancy furniture galleries. Like, on every other block. It's pretty hilarious. Sushi down here has cream cheese in everything, though. Not so hot.
The amount of soccer that comes on the tele down here is phenomenal. Did anybody see that craziness in the Denmark - Sweden Euro 2008 Qualifier? Yeah, I pretty much figured you didn't. Americans, so soccer-deprived. Trust me, it was noteworthy. Worthy of a note. Which is what this paragraph serves as, I suppose.
I like to write in parallels. Thenceforth I will relate to you something totally awesome about living in Mexico City, and something that is totally balls.
Awesome: I have a "muchacha" that comes and cleans my house everyday. I'm talking does my laundry, ironing, dishes, sheets, bathroom, trash, the whole mcgarnigle. I pay her 60 pesos, about 6 bucks. A week.
Balls: Indoor plumbing in Mexico only got halfway there. They've got the water-closet, just like home. But, don't even think about sending the paper down with your departed pool patrons. I can't explain to you the melange of odors that a bathroom-wastebasket full of an entire party's poo-shards exudes. I genuinely can't.
I have managed to meet a whole slew of ex-pats in my neighborhood, mostly middle or east-coast Americans and Brits. The guys have invited (read: demanded) that i join their rugby team. Man, i was really hoping that guy was going to say "soccer" after he asked me if i liked to play sports, oh well we have a ________ team. So yeah, since you are all aware of my prowess as a rough & tumble, hard-core, piece-of-iron-like-rocky-in-rocky-IV status, I'll let you know how many guys I make cry whilst flexing my solarplexi and generally crushing. Sigh . . .
That's it for now, pictures coming soon. Headed to the pyramids at Teotihuacan (tay-oh-tee-ooh!-aah! . . . Khan!) this weekend. Photo update next week. Keesses!
--Lee
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Estoy Aquí
Hola todos,
Many thank yous to all of my wonderful friends who came out and celebrated my going-away and birthday at my parents' house on Wednesday, and/or at my former local bar on Friday. It was great to see all of you before departing.
I arrived in Mexico City on Sunday night, after a long, tear-filled (from both parties), blowout goodbye with my dearest Elizabeth. I am certainly going to miss her. I traveled not very light, with two 50-pound suitcases containing almost everything i own, my guitar, and a backpack of music and music players, which are currently unmarried, as i have no personal computer. Great buys, that Ipod and external hard drive.
I got through customs with great ease, and was greeted at Benito Juarez International by my boss, and only American I know here, Scott Newman. Scott is about 10 years older than me, has been here in Mexico for 5, is from Texas, and generally cracks me up ridiculously. He took me out to the center square in Coyoacan, south of the city center, for a birthday dinner.
Dinner was tequila bandera (a shot each of tequila, spiced tomato juice, and lime juice; thus creating the white-red-green of the mexican flag . . . "bandera" means flag), beers, duck tacos, mussels, scallop cebiche, smoked marlin tacos, and chocolate goo birthday cake. Not too shabby for a first meal.
I've found a temporary furnished place to live for the 90 days the company is paying for, it is in the La Condesa neighborhood. It is a very bohemian, young, hip area, lots of foreigners, little baritos, restaurantitos, lots of trees, etc. I'm excited to be there, and hope I will be able to find a place there when it's on my own dime.
The dirty looks from grumpy existing Mexican salespeople are definitely not lacking, but I feel like since I am tackling an area that they altogether cannot (international business with America), it will be just fine.
So far, Mocteczuma has not taken out his dicked-over Aztec aggression on my lower intestinal tract. I suppose it's only a matter of time, though. Maybe it will help me regain my girlish figure.
The eating schedule is really the biggest change I'm having to make so far. Breakfast before work at 9 is usually just fruit, yogurt, toast, etc. And then, somehow lunch got a solid 2-hour pushback, starting at 2 in the afternoon. Tell me who thought up that one. Then you have to go back to work at 3:30 until 7pm. It´s un poco raro, as the fella says.
This is my first genuine blog entry from Mexico, and I am on my work computer, so I can't upload any photos just yet. You'll have to use your imagination. While you're at it, imagine me and Han Solo tag-teaming a six-boobed alien lady. You know you like it. High five, Han.
Rock and roll everyone.
--Lee
Many thank yous to all of my wonderful friends who came out and celebrated my going-away and birthday at my parents' house on Wednesday, and/or at my former local bar on Friday. It was great to see all of you before departing.
I arrived in Mexico City on Sunday night, after a long, tear-filled (from both parties), blowout goodbye with my dearest Elizabeth. I am certainly going to miss her. I traveled not very light, with two 50-pound suitcases containing almost everything i own, my guitar, and a backpack of music and music players, which are currently unmarried, as i have no personal computer. Great buys, that Ipod and external hard drive.
I got through customs with great ease, and was greeted at Benito Juarez International by my boss, and only American I know here, Scott Newman. Scott is about 10 years older than me, has been here in Mexico for 5, is from Texas, and generally cracks me up ridiculously. He took me out to the center square in Coyoacan, south of the city center, for a birthday dinner.
Dinner was tequila bandera (a shot each of tequila, spiced tomato juice, and lime juice; thus creating the white-red-green of the mexican flag . . . "bandera" means flag), beers, duck tacos, mussels, scallop cebiche, smoked marlin tacos, and chocolate goo birthday cake. Not too shabby for a first meal.
I've found a temporary furnished place to live for the 90 days the company is paying for, it is in the La Condesa neighborhood. It is a very bohemian, young, hip area, lots of foreigners, little baritos, restaurantitos, lots of trees, etc. I'm excited to be there, and hope I will be able to find a place there when it's on my own dime.
The dirty looks from grumpy existing Mexican salespeople are definitely not lacking, but I feel like since I am tackling an area that they altogether cannot (international business with America), it will be just fine.
So far, Mocteczuma has not taken out his dicked-over Aztec aggression on my lower intestinal tract. I suppose it's only a matter of time, though. Maybe it will help me regain my girlish figure.
The eating schedule is really the biggest change I'm having to make so far. Breakfast before work at 9 is usually just fruit, yogurt, toast, etc. And then, somehow lunch got a solid 2-hour pushback, starting at 2 in the afternoon. Tell me who thought up that one. Then you have to go back to work at 3:30 until 7pm. It´s un poco raro, as the fella says.
This is my first genuine blog entry from Mexico, and I am on my work computer, so I can't upload any photos just yet. You'll have to use your imagination. While you're at it, imagine me and Han Solo tag-teaming a six-boobed alien lady. You know you like it. High five, Han.
Rock and roll everyone.
--Lee
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
The Final Countdown
Hello,
My name is Lee M. Saunders. I am a 24-year-old white American fellow moving to Mexico, D.F. on May 13, 2007. Mexico City, to the layperson. I have lived in Colorado, USA my entire life, and have decided to publish my experiences in Mexico here on this webpage. Who's excited?
Let's hammer out a few facts about Lee before we begin:
1. I am 6'4", white, with indicriminately colored hair.
2. This is to be my first experience living in another country.
3. My job is selling billboard ad space in Mexico to American advertisers.
4. I speak pretty fantastic book Spanish. Mexican Spanish, not as much.
There are probably more facts that needed to be listed. But I don't want to have this blog turn into more of a "blahg," if you catch my drift. Brevity will hopefully be a virtue that this blog will extol. I'm excited to leave here in about 10 days, I've got many things to take care of before I do. Mostly playing golf.
So, please feel free to check in on this catastrophe (I used to think I was good at the internet . . . ) at will, I'll likely be updating it bi-weekly. I'm having a big party at my folks' house Wednesday May 9 at 6 pm, if anybody would like to attend, drop me an email at leemsaunders@gmail.com.
My name is Lee M. Saunders. I am a 24-year-old white American fellow moving to Mexico, D.F. on May 13, 2007. Mexico City, to the layperson. I have lived in Colorado, USA my entire life, and have decided to publish my experiences in Mexico here on this webpage. Who's excited?
Let's hammer out a few facts about Lee before we begin:
1. I am 6'4", white, with indicriminately colored hair.
2. This is to be my first experience living in another country.
3. My job is selling billboard ad space in Mexico to American advertisers.
4. I speak pretty fantastic book Spanish. Mexican Spanish, not as much.
There are probably more facts that needed to be listed. But I don't want to have this blog turn into more of a "blahg," if you catch my drift. Brevity will hopefully be a virtue that this blog will extol. I'm excited to leave here in about 10 days, I've got many things to take care of before I do. Mostly playing golf.
So, please feel free to check in on this catastrophe (I used to think I was good at the internet . . . ) at will, I'll likely be updating it bi-weekly. I'm having a big party at my folks' house Wednesday May 9 at 6 pm, if anybody would like to attend, drop me an email at leemsaunders@gmail.com.
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