Globos and Goodbyes
"Hola Gringos!"I heard this as my mom, Marie, Katie, and I approached the Tuesday open air market in town. I have learned over time that comedy that can be interpreted in both languages is the best way to make use of an awkward situation. And being distinguished as a genuine outsider is definitely awkward.
I quickly shot back, "Hola, Mexicana!" in a fake sweet voice, aiming it toward the car where two younger adolescents hung out of the window. I almost walked by, but was stopped in my tracks.
"Whut's yer naime?" she asked. And so then, I couldn't help it. I had to go over and talk.
Her name was Yasmine, and she was nine. Her older sister did some intepreting for her. My try at the Spanish sentences were not very successful.
"uhh.. este is el primero vez... tu ver un gringo?" The sister translated that I wanted to know if this was the first time she had seen a gringo. I was joking, and they knew I was joking, because in this town you always see Americans. She shook her head no, smiling.
On my way back to our car, I was hoping they would still be there, for I had leftover churros that none of us could finish. But, they weren't there.
Today at the park market, I was lingering around, looking at things. The bazaar is held mostly for the sole purpose of marketing to American travelers, and the women and families come from the Triqui neighborhood. Most things are bought, and then sold, although a few things are handmade. One might feel a bit of a copout, buying blankets from a big bag that originated in some warehouse, but these women have sort of gone into business for themselves, and I can't help but feel proud of them, and their industrious ways. They are not our ways, they are theirs, and they do a great job at it.
While the others wandered around, I stopped at one table just long enough (about a second) to look at the blankets. I didn't even touch, but just looking means you are interested, and so they will talk to you about their beautiful cobijas (blankets) and tell you the price. One persistent girl stopped me and we made conversation. She was very intent on selling me a blanket, although I had no money and have no space in my suitcase. I kept say "no puedo" (I can't), but she kept insisted "tu puedes". We argued jokingly for a while. Her parents were sitting at the next table, watching their daughter, and smiling at her attempts to sell a blanket to a foreigner. She unfolded a blanket to show me. I told her it was beautiful, and I liked it, but I couldn't buy it. She insisted I could.
Finally I told her I didn't have any space in my suitcase. She immediately made a fist, and pushed down on the blanket, indicating that I could indeed fit in my bag. Unfortunately, I had to tell her no, and walk away. I told her parents she was a beautiful daughter. She, also, was 9, and her name was Sara.
It's my last night in Mexico for a long, long time. I went to my last church service on Wednesday. Today I said goodbye to the teachers, to Cande, and to the family at the church. I hate saying goodbyes, so I try to make them short and sweet. A lot of the time I have been here I have missed home, and my friends, and my Portland. I am glad to be going back to Portland, but there are many things I will miss here, and I suddenly realize I will miss them for a LONG time. More than a year. I am very, very blessed to have a home in Mexico I feel I can turn to whenever I want. My parents are here, and I have a large base of friends and acquaintances that I could confidentally call on if needed. I am a very lucky girl.
I'm flying home tomorrow from San Diego. At some point I'll have more pictures on this blog, hopefully.
posted by Meghan @ 4:33 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home