Sunday, January 22, 2006
Menu for a cold: Rice porridge with knorr
Hmmm, I seem to have forgotten to publish this entry, dated Tuesday, January 17, 2006.
I’ve got a cold once again—big surprise. Stayed home from work today, much to the disappointment of the principal. I refuse to feel bad about staying home, because I really wouldn’t have been much of a teacher today, and I would’ve just made myself worse had I tried to work.
But of course I feel bad. I don’t know why I always feel so much responsibility, when it’s so easy for others simply not to care. The English teacher before me, for example, just up and left—didn’t even return the teacher’s books she had, didn’t even give any notice. That’s something I think I could never do. I’d die of guilt.
My boss scolded me once again for not taking care of myself. I went to the beach, she said, and didn’t take care of myself. She had told me to get something yesterday, medicine or a tea, but I didn’t catch the name of whatever it was, and of course I wasn’t planning on getting it. I was so tired I slept all afternoon, and then it was too cold for me to go out to get anything, not even food to eat. She was upset with me for not getting whatever it was she wanted me to get, but I was too tired to argue or tell her that I was too sick to go out to get anything. And still I feel bad. However, I know she’s supposed to act disapprovingly, because she doesn’t want to make the impression that it’s fine for me to keep taking sick days.
Puerto Vallarta was fun, and I’m glad I went, but I don’t think I’ll be making that trip again anytime soon. It takes much too long to get there and back—I had to travel eight to ten hours each way, and I felt sick going on the winding mountain roads by the shore. Luckily I had two entire days there, and the weather was fine, and it was lovely to spend time with friends.
I stayed with Meabh, Mika, and Claire, who live in a nice house on a hill, about a ten-minute walk to the beach. We were all on the same course in Guadalajara, and Meabh and Mika had been my roommates at Vilasanta. Though it’s not my idea of a great beach for a vacation, because it’s a big resort town and very touristy, it wasn’t at all as annoying as I thought it would be. As soon as I got in, I was shocked by the prices and the extent of the resorts, but my friends live in the old town, away from all the crazy stuff, and within walking distance of nightlife as well.
While they worked and Claire had an interview with a school on Friday, I took it easy, read a girlie magazine at the house, and then walked up and down the beach for over an hour looking for a place to plop down and get sun. There were lots of people on the beach, and the shore was lined with restaurants, bars, hotels, and condos. I finally found a less crowded spot where the water wasn’t good for swimming, but where I could watch pelicans diving in the water. They were amazing, the pelicans. They’re huge and fly right over the water, skimming over waves and then diving down to catch fish. Claire met me after her interview on the beach, but by this time the sky had grown overcast, and I felt cold. I ate some grilled marlin on a stick for lunch. Then we went back to the house.
That evening, we got all dressed up and made up to go out. Meabh was feeling a bit sick, but apparently she felt fine once she started drinking. We had dinner with Mika’s dad, who is in Puerto Vallarta taking Spanish courses for a month. I was very ready for seafood, which I hardly ever eat in Arandas, and had an excellent grilled red snapper. Then we went to a bar to meet a friend of Meabh’s. We got bored there and decided to go to a tiny hole-in-the-wall bar that Claire and Meabh knew. It had about four bar stools and little seats around two tables. They served up big micheladas there, the ones made with caguamas in huge Styrofoam cups—I think they’re a liter each—and that seemed to be the attraction for the very young local clientele there. (Nobody in our group likes micheladas except for me, but I only had a little one.) The attraction for a member of our group, however, was the bartender, and the almost-free drinks. They played good hip hop, too. So good that by the time we’d had several drinks, Mika was up on the bar dancing with someone who was celebrating his birthday. Good times.
We then left to go somewhere else, and as we walked by this terrible-looking, chain-like, gringo-oriented bar called Carlos O’Brien’s, Meabh said, “I bet I can get us inside for free.” We went in without being charged (they probably weren’t charging cover for girls—sorry, Meabh) and danced like crazy to regeton and hip hop. Most of the guys were Mexican, so dancing was nicer than it would be in a club in the States—the guys here are much more shy and usually ask politely if we’d like to dance with them, and they tend to respect an answer in the negative. We had a great time.
Unfortunately, on the walk home, I flipped out. The girls had stopped to talk to some guys standing in front of their van, to see if we could get a ride home, and I was having none of it. I couldn’t just drag them away, however; for some reason—and I’m going to say it was the alcohol—I had to yell and lecture and raise my voice far more than was necessary. As we passed by a group of gringos standing in front of a bar, some blond guy made fun of me, mocking my yelling. I shouted in his face to fuck off, which made him really angry, but I was ready to knock him out if I had to, and I think he could see that.
It was indeed a very embarrassing moment for me, shouting at my friends as we walked down the street. I feel bad even writing about it, because I’m sure they’d like to forget the little episode as much as I would. But I’m still sorry about the gross overreaction, and would like to apologize here once again for it.
The next day everything was better among all of us, but Claire got really sick from something she had eaten. Mika, Mika’s dad, Meabh, and I went to breakfast and the beach. We were on a spot on the beach near the gay resort, and we had lots of fun watching guys in their speedos. Speedos never do seem to flatter anyone. After the speedo watching, we went back to the apartment with rented DVDs to accompany Claire, who couldn’t go out or eat anything at all. And we all needed a quiet night after the craziness of the night before.
The next morning I had to go, but not before having a nice, big breakfast, of course.
The highlight of the trip back was that I could get on a first-class bus from Guadalajara to Arandas, which cut the travel time down a bit, and we got to see “White Chicks” dubbed in Spanish on board. It was definitely the best movie of the six I had seen on buses that weekend (which gives an idea of the kind of movies they play on these buses). Everyone in the bus was laughing, and the atmosphere was wonderful. When we got back, the fiestas were still on, much to my surprise—the last day, somebody told me—but I was too tired to want to go one last time.
Now I’m back, taking a sick day and putting off my planning for the week. I can’t wait for Julia Oliver to come visit this weekend. Once again, I’m not really out of vacation mode. It’ll be a while before I take another big vacation, though, so I’ll probably settle back into the slow, non-fiesta Arandas life again soon.
I’ve got a cold once again—big surprise. Stayed home from work today, much to the disappointment of the principal. I refuse to feel bad about staying home, because I really wouldn’t have been much of a teacher today, and I would’ve just made myself worse had I tried to work.
But of course I feel bad. I don’t know why I always feel so much responsibility, when it’s so easy for others simply not to care. The English teacher before me, for example, just up and left—didn’t even return the teacher’s books she had, didn’t even give any notice. That’s something I think I could never do. I’d die of guilt.
My boss scolded me once again for not taking care of myself. I went to the beach, she said, and didn’t take care of myself. She had told me to get something yesterday, medicine or a tea, but I didn’t catch the name of whatever it was, and of course I wasn’t planning on getting it. I was so tired I slept all afternoon, and then it was too cold for me to go out to get anything, not even food to eat. She was upset with me for not getting whatever it was she wanted me to get, but I was too tired to argue or tell her that I was too sick to go out to get anything. And still I feel bad. However, I know she’s supposed to act disapprovingly, because she doesn’t want to make the impression that it’s fine for me to keep taking sick days.
Puerto Vallarta was fun, and I’m glad I went, but I don’t think I’ll be making that trip again anytime soon. It takes much too long to get there and back—I had to travel eight to ten hours each way, and I felt sick going on the winding mountain roads by the shore. Luckily I had two entire days there, and the weather was fine, and it was lovely to spend time with friends.
I stayed with Meabh, Mika, and Claire, who live in a nice house on a hill, about a ten-minute walk to the beach. We were all on the same course in Guadalajara, and Meabh and Mika had been my roommates at Vilasanta. Though it’s not my idea of a great beach for a vacation, because it’s a big resort town and very touristy, it wasn’t at all as annoying as I thought it would be. As soon as I got in, I was shocked by the prices and the extent of the resorts, but my friends live in the old town, away from all the crazy stuff, and within walking distance of nightlife as well.
While they worked and Claire had an interview with a school on Friday, I took it easy, read a girlie magazine at the house, and then walked up and down the beach for over an hour looking for a place to plop down and get sun. There were lots of people on the beach, and the shore was lined with restaurants, bars, hotels, and condos. I finally found a less crowded spot where the water wasn’t good for swimming, but where I could watch pelicans diving in the water. They were amazing, the pelicans. They’re huge and fly right over the water, skimming over waves and then diving down to catch fish. Claire met me after her interview on the beach, but by this time the sky had grown overcast, and I felt cold. I ate some grilled marlin on a stick for lunch. Then we went back to the house.
That evening, we got all dressed up and made up to go out. Meabh was feeling a bit sick, but apparently she felt fine once she started drinking. We had dinner with Mika’s dad, who is in Puerto Vallarta taking Spanish courses for a month. I was very ready for seafood, which I hardly ever eat in Arandas, and had an excellent grilled red snapper. Then we went to a bar to meet a friend of Meabh’s. We got bored there and decided to go to a tiny hole-in-the-wall bar that Claire and Meabh knew. It had about four bar stools and little seats around two tables. They served up big micheladas there, the ones made with caguamas in huge Styrofoam cups—I think they’re a liter each—and that seemed to be the attraction for the very young local clientele there. (Nobody in our group likes micheladas except for me, but I only had a little one.) The attraction for a member of our group, however, was the bartender, and the almost-free drinks. They played good hip hop, too. So good that by the time we’d had several drinks, Mika was up on the bar dancing with someone who was celebrating his birthday. Good times.
We then left to go somewhere else, and as we walked by this terrible-looking, chain-like, gringo-oriented bar called Carlos O’Brien’s, Meabh said, “I bet I can get us inside for free.” We went in without being charged (they probably weren’t charging cover for girls—sorry, Meabh) and danced like crazy to regeton and hip hop. Most of the guys were Mexican, so dancing was nicer than it would be in a club in the States—the guys here are much more shy and usually ask politely if we’d like to dance with them, and they tend to respect an answer in the negative. We had a great time.
Unfortunately, on the walk home, I flipped out. The girls had stopped to talk to some guys standing in front of their van, to see if we could get a ride home, and I was having none of it. I couldn’t just drag them away, however; for some reason—and I’m going to say it was the alcohol—I had to yell and lecture and raise my voice far more than was necessary. As we passed by a group of gringos standing in front of a bar, some blond guy made fun of me, mocking my yelling. I shouted in his face to fuck off, which made him really angry, but I was ready to knock him out if I had to, and I think he could see that.
It was indeed a very embarrassing moment for me, shouting at my friends as we walked down the street. I feel bad even writing about it, because I’m sure they’d like to forget the little episode as much as I would. But I’m still sorry about the gross overreaction, and would like to apologize here once again for it.
The next day everything was better among all of us, but Claire got really sick from something she had eaten. Mika, Mika’s dad, Meabh, and I went to breakfast and the beach. We were on a spot on the beach near the gay resort, and we had lots of fun watching guys in their speedos. Speedos never do seem to flatter anyone. After the speedo watching, we went back to the apartment with rented DVDs to accompany Claire, who couldn’t go out or eat anything at all. And we all needed a quiet night after the craziness of the night before.
The next morning I had to go, but not before having a nice, big breakfast, of course.
The highlight of the trip back was that I could get on a first-class bus from Guadalajara to Arandas, which cut the travel time down a bit, and we got to see “White Chicks” dubbed in Spanish on board. It was definitely the best movie of the six I had seen on buses that weekend (which gives an idea of the kind of movies they play on these buses). Everyone in the bus was laughing, and the atmosphere was wonderful. When we got back, the fiestas were still on, much to my surprise—the last day, somebody told me—but I was too tired to want to go one last time.
Now I’m back, taking a sick day and putting off my planning for the week. I can’t wait for Julia Oliver to come visit this weekend. Once again, I’m not really out of vacation mode. It’ll be a while before I take another big vacation, though, so I’ll probably settle back into the slow, non-fiesta Arandas life again soon.
