My adventures in bloodletting

I gave blood yesterday. It was my first time, and my main reason, though I would like to be known as a compassionate, upstanding member of society, was so that I could finally learn my blood type. I'm twenty five years old, and I'm still in the dark.

So I sit myself down on the little reclining chair, and display my arm for the inevitable injection. Naturally, I avert my eyes, because watching needles go in makes me woozy. Then my blood flows through this tube into a little bag. Bye bye blood. T'was nice having your companionship.

Afterward, I get up and feel quite fine. So I went over to Tani, who had not yet been pierced, and sat down with my cookies and juice to keep her company. The lady pokes her, and we wait. The women around begin conversing about the new vampire love series (get it? Blood, vampires....?) and discussing the characters like old friends. Tani's bag fills, and while the blood lady is taking out the needle, I suddenly feel like every particle of my body has encapsulated itself in my stomach, and wants immediate escape. Then the room starts spinning and I know I'm in trouble. So, I recline myself upon the chair just vacated by Tani, and wait, with cold packs, for my head to return to this galaxy. Eventually it does, and I take more cookies and juice and walk home.

And I have the pink bandage and the needle hole still in my arm to prove it.

There's got to be a better way

The Tijuana border crossing. Probably the busiest border crossing
In The World.
And the noisiest.
And the slowest.
And my feet.
Which have nothing to do with border crossings,
except for their intrinsic value as entertainment.
Which can be good when it takes you two hours to move half a mile.
Viva Mexico.

Roommates

These used to live in my house. They are spiders, and they are big, and slow, and stupid, and I think a little blind. But they are gross, and they abounded this spring and summer, after a prolific rain (for here) caused pretty green things to grow all over our yard, which seemed an ideal place for these newfound friends to make their home. They were not satisfied with their little leafy green roofs, however, and promptly moved into OUR house. Between the three of us, Danielle, Kim and myself, we slew scores of them. I'm sure the spider world bears us quite a bit of ill will, due to our relentless massacre of anything arachnid-esque. I'm not a bug connoisseur, nor do I relish showing pictures of yucky, crawly insects to you, my helpless and innocent readers. However, the insect world is one that is closely linked to the world in which I live at the moment, and there is no escaping that cold, hard fact. So here. Partake a little. And hope I don't decide to regale you with stories of deer slayers (quite frightening, until you realize that you are, indeed, bigger than them, and can therefore crush them with minimal effort, if you don't mind the squish) and other fun insect friends that dwell among us.

Mexi-snacks galore

This is a pretty typical Mexican shot. Since we live in an agricultural community, we are fairly dependent upon the seasons for most of our fruits and vegetables. I know this is pretty much the case wherever one may go, but it seems much more, oh, I don't know, in your face here. Maybe it has something to do with the ragged boys wandering the streets trying to sell strawberries from a five gallon bucket in the summer. Cucumbers in the spring. Corn in the fall. I wonder to myself: 'Are they stolen? Are they gleaned?' I will never know.

This good man here is selling olives. They are quite tasty. What you do is this: you purchase a bag of olives (non-pitted), and he will undo the bag, dump most of the water, add hot sauce (called chili. The people here have no interest in our soup-like concoctions of the same name) and leave you to taste, savor and enjoy the slightly bitter, oh-so-greeny taste of these olives. Its one of my favorite treats.

The first in a long line of many

It seemed apropos that, on this the day of my third Mexi-anniversary, I start something new. As you can see, that something new is this. My blog. Never in all my days as a human did I dream of having one of these things. It seemed pointless. Maybe, actually, it is. However, I when it comes to 'keeping in touch', I am a miserable failure, as all of my neglected friends back in the States will attest. This is my solution. I plan to show you lots and a plethora of lots of photos of my life down here.

Starting now.

Today is September 16th. Here in Mexico, we celebrate the famous speech given by Miguel Hidalgo (NOT the horse), 'Grito de Dolores', which incited the Mexican war for independence against Spain. How do we celebrate, do you ask? We line up on the side of the road and watch the schools parade down the street to the Centro, where we all run around and try to smash eggs full of flour on each other's heads.

November 20th is another important date, being the end of the war for independence against Spain. This picture is actually from that parade last year. This is the big parade, when costumes and floats and flags come out in abundance. These two boys are dear little insurrectionists against the man, with their plastic guns and little foil bullets. The mustaches, I think, are real.

Viva Mexico!