Oooooosss pido posaaaAAda…

Christmas-time came and went; and with it the usual associations: the stress of present and food shopping, the lovely depressing moments, the wholesome family fights over the most random of things (papel navideño, cinta adhesiva, el tamaño ideal de la nueces picadas, el relleno de las codornices), an so on and so forth.

Lovely times they are.

This year, though, I was invited to Rozie’s aunt’s Posada. It had been a while since I had gone to her aunt’s, and even more since my last posada. Still, I remembered similar past events (digamos que los tíos de Rozita son espléndidos con la comida y el alcohol :D) and I was more than set to go.

I was supposed to meet Rose in metro La Raza after work, but she called as I was leaving the office for the second time (la primera vez recordé a cinco cuadras que había dejado la batería de la cámara en la oficina) to tell me to meet her in the house instead.

I agreed and went on my way. I considered taking the bus to metro Eugenia, but took a look at traffic and decided to go to Chilpancingo instead. The metrobus was out of the question- it’s impossible to actually get inside a bus from 6 to 8 (y no estaba de un humor particularmente condescendiente hacia los pervertidos que parecen pulularlo). So I chose to walk the 20 minutes to the metro.

The trip was uneventful until I got to Chilpancingo, where it all wet to hell. Under the most unpredictable (and unfortunate) circumstances, I ran into Gilberto. Or rather, he ran towards me while I tried to desperately to make my way through the line into the metro, cursing slow people, ticket machines, Gilberto, and the fates in general.

Needless to say, I didn’t make it. So here comes this guy who I AGAIN pretended not to know (¿podré algún día gozar de la bendición de amnesia selectiva en cuanto a hombres se refiere?) and starts off with the basic introduction, trying to remind me again of how we met in the UAM (something I have tried SO hard to forget).

Acto seguido, he decided to enlighten me about how life has gone for him since we last met, aquel episodio en que logré que el camión en que viajábamos se detuviera vertiginosamente, me aventé de manera casi rauda por las escaleras jalando a una quejumbrosa Sara del brazo –no podía dejar que la pobre niña sufriera tan ignominiosa presencia mientras yo salvaba mi considerable pellejo- y corrí –en botas y falda, me enorgullezco de admitir- hacia la salvación que ofrecía una calle desierta en un barrio dudoso, todo mientras escuchaba al tipo despedirse y pedir mis datos desde el camión. (See previous blog).

And I was so glad I had escaped, too. Who would have thought that nearly two years later I would have to face him again in an enclosed, crowded space with no means of escape? For some reason, he though it would be flattering to escort me home (I made up a fake address; there was no way in hell I would allow him anywhere near the apartment after that comment he had made about my neighbourhood the last time we met, when I have no recollection of ever telling him where I live. I might be clueless sometimes, but it takes a very stupid girl to reveal such things to an obvious pervert).

I declined, citing plans for the night, and desperately changed routes in an effort to run as far away from the tactless idiot. I decided to get off in Centro Médico, which I admit was naïve of me, because of course he followed suit undeterred, right into the green line.

I endured his presence for much too long, listening to his woes -considero que he sido una persona a la que se le ha discriminado mucho (he believes people always boycott him; must be his lovely personality), me interesa meterme a la política, pero no ser corrupto, porque soy congruente con mis ideales (and those ideals include harassing defenceless young girls, Gilberto?), tengo grandes planes a futuro (funny thing, so do I; the nearest one being half a city of physical distance between us), etc.-

Eventually, his comments became more and more absurd, frankly moronic, and I lost all semblance of patience, deciding to just let the inner bitch go for it. I methodically ruined his comments involving financial, religious and political views (I’m no great analyst; he was just remarkably idiotic) and his woe-is-me-poor-discriminated-victim-I-am tirade.

I finished off explaining, as if to a little child, than the Vatican was more than a catholic holy place, but an actual State, which gave the pope somewhat effective political standing and the implications that carried, in a tone that must have been more than a bit condescending, because several passengers looked at him as though he was brain damaged (which, in all fairness, he isn’t. He doesn’t even have that going for him).

Thankfully, it was around this time when we arrived at La Raza and I nearly jumped off the wagon, but no luck, since he followed. I made as if to get out into the street and effusively turned down his offer to accompany me (hay gente en realidad insensata; cualquiera hubiera entendido mi ferviente deseo de que el tipo se alejara, pero el oligofrénico este superó hasta mis expectativas).

Finally free, and so very happy to be so, I waited for him to disappear from my vision before following the way he had gone. The odd thing was that we were actually headed the same way; I just made sure to stay as far back as I could while still being able to see his unmistakeable bald head. I couldn’t trust him not to turn around and try find out where I live. He really is that frighteningly creepy.

Just to be sure, I called Rous while waiting for the yellow line metro, to inform her of the unfortunate encounter and state that, should I go unexplainably missing, she was to search (as good friends should) in the freezers of all bald men named Gilberto for body parts that might resemble mine.

I arrived to her aunt’s house, thankfully in one piece, by the way of an amiable taxi driver who took pity on the confused, lost girl standing on a deserted side street (léase yo). I met up with the family, said my hello’s to Rozie, her mother, aunt, uncle, brother, and was introduced to her extensive line of cousins.

The posada itself turned out to be incredibly fun. Rouse’s cousins are fun and playful, and we enjoyed a wholesome, fun-filled night.

First off, we were forced to sing (-por supuesto, es una posada de verdad- mentioned Rose at my baffled question) in order to get access to food and alcohol, so we gave it our best shot, with all and falsettos included. We ate some tasty tacos before the hungry mob did away with it (and sweet little Pavel proudly explained he had helped cook), got our paws on some vodka and tonic, and waited for the piñatas.

I was surprised to find out that Rozie’s cousins were discussing strategies and logistics over candy recollection. When I asked about it, perplexed, they all turned to look at me as if I was slow, explained the importance of a well made plan, and went back to strategizing. I tried to be helpful, and gave a couple of ideas: “¿Y si cubrimos la piñatas por diferentes ángulos para que cuando se rompa podamos llegar por diferentes posiciones? ”

Rous, a couple of minutes later: “Pao suggested we split up and cover the piñata from different angles and jump at it when it breaks … But, we are not going to do that. We will stay on one side and barge in, with the people of the back pushing the front ones into the piñata craze.”

Dejected, I prepared for the first piñata, and as soon as it broke, dove right in along with Rose’s cousin. I found the experience to be rather savage, with lot’s of pushing, forcing and elbowing, but I managed to sit up with a bag full of fruit, utterly proud of myself.

That is, until I was mugged by a four year old.

Yes. Mugged by a four year old. As I was sitting on the pavement, feeling accomplished and childishly showing my goods to Rose, a little girl came from somewhere and took my plastic bag. Horrified, I held on to it, saying it was mine and looking to Rose for support while the kid went into the mild beginnings of a temper tantrum, repeating it was hers.

We stayed like that for half a minute, struggling for the bag until Aldo, Rous’s cousin, told me to let it go and give the kid the bag. Crestfallen, I obeyed, perfectly aware I was acting like a child but not really caring. I stood up, dusted myself, and waited for the next piñata.

This time, I got my turn at it, and found out Rozie’s aunt can be vicious with the blindfold. Not only could I not see anything, but I felt my eyes digging into my sockets and when, after my mildly effective attempt at breaking the piñata, I removed the scarf, realized everything looked blurry for a minute.

After the second piñata broke, I collected as much fruit as I could without a bag and immediately gave it to Rous before the girl could come rob me again. That is when the main event came into sight. In front of us stood a massive green piñata; so big that they had to take it out empty and fill it up on the street, to be able to pick it up.

Apparently, this is what we were waiting for, because Rous decided to change tactics and adopt my original plan after all. We rounded the piñata, all ready to go for it at a moments notice, and waited patiently for someone to break it. Which, technically, never broke.

Someone did manage to make it fall to the ground (¿o fue por el peso?), but even though it didn’t break, we still jumped at it and broke it with our bare hands.

It was a violent, bloody battle. During the craze I could feel people over me, pushing down as they tried to go for the candy. Someone managed to scratch me on the arm, leaving a bloody figure resembling an “A” near the elbow. Someone else grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled on it painfully, until tears came to my eyes. But I held my ground (y estaba en el suelo, literalmente) and grabbed as much candy as I could.

Since I didn’t have a bag, I resorted to stuffing all the candy into the front of my jacket, until it filled up (y Rous luego comentó que por fin tenía busto). And when it did, I just threw myself facedown and refused to move, until Rozita came from the back, grabbed me and hugged me until some people went away and we managed to sneak a plastic bag in to fill it up.

On the sides, I could see Norma, Karla and some other guys doing their best to fend people off their candy. All around me there were people going vicious, just for another piece of candy. To be truthful, it was a bit frightening, though fun.

In the end, though, we managed to get out with two plastic bags worth of candy. We went inside and continued the party, drinking, dancing (Rozita forced us, I swear! Y Beto se burló de mí). I asked for caballitos of tequila and lemon, for my sore throat, which might not have been that great of an idea, since it mixed with the vodka and we ended up discussing the most random of things.

For some reason, Rose brought up my ex’s, and we started talking about the nice Mexican boy and the sexy English one, discussing their particular good points. I’m inclined towards the latter, but I’m biased :D Since I was drunk by then (y creo que rous también), I got a little carried away and I think I might have talked too much.

When it got very late, and too cold outside, we went inside the house and I talked with Aldo about woman’s hormonal cycles while Karla, Rous and Norma divided the candy and fruit into even portions, giving each an equal share of goods and auctioning off the rest. Then we went into a complex trading system that involved candy flying from different sides of the room.

I never had seen such ordeals over candy before.

But, that’s when Aldo won me over by giving me his chili watermelon lollipop and jicamas (les agarré un cariño particular esa noche).

In the end, I gave up the idea of going home, and slept with the girls in Pavel’s king sized bed, after Rous sent for me energetically (I was discussing life with little Pavel; I guess they were sleepy).

It was a fun night, even with the unfortunate encounter with the creepy guy.

Me quedaron ganas de otra posada.