Pretty much all of my life, minus the six years I spent living on the east coast, I have lived among the Mexican people. Big ones, small ones, brown ones, white ones. Pushing strollers and making me tacos and shaking their scantily-clad asses in the gym at C-Juana High. My dentist was Mexican, my hair dresser was Mexican, I've taken a few writing classes with Mexican authors. My buddy Big Ray, of Filipino descent, once said of the Mexicans, "I love them. They know how to cook meat." Whilst in England, I observed that there were no Mexicans anywhere, no tacos, no syncopated rhythms peppered with accordion wails. I told Bob, "I don't think I could live here. There are no Mexicans."
I love and respect the Mexican people, is what I'm saying. I appreciate their beans. Without them, I am hungry and bored.
But there is also this thing, this very White American thing, where we are suspicious of other peoples and cultures. Sure, Mexico is only a spit and a fart away from C-juana, but to some people, it is a foreign country to be feared. It is the Mexicans who make the C-juana Target filthy and unpleasant. Their children scream louder, their cars are offensive. They consume lard. They do not speak the King's English and our tax dollars go to feed their unaborted fetuses. Illegal immigration is draining our resources. Walls. Tall walls. A wall, to some, is a solution to be taken seriously. When I first moved to Austin, I had dinner with a woman who warned me to NEVER go on the other side of i-35, because IT'S SO DANGEROUS. That is estupido! I laugh and fart at this lame-ass woman, but again, she's not the only ignorant fucktard I've heard that from. (for some beyond brilliant satire on the subject by a group of Mexicanos who make this gringa laugh until she wets her pantalones, please visit lcp.org)
And it is here that I must involve the heretofore innocent nation of Chile into my essay about Mexicans. The fact that, like a marriage, to some it is a love/hate relationship.
My in-laws want to take the entire family (including me and my mom and bro) to Santiago, Chile, to attend the wedding of their former exchange student. I knew that my mother would frown on this, as all Spanish speaking countries, to her, are Mexico. Surely, anywhere but the USA, Canada, Great Britain, any part of western Europe, and English-speaking former colonies thereof, are dirty, dangerous places where violent anti-government demonstrations and seamy, dangerous drug cartels maraud the streets looking for white tourists to kidnap and murder. At the very least, I will get raped or get diarrhea, so says my mother, a woman with the time and resources to travel but cannot be convinced to do so.
I tried to explain to her that Chile is actually rather safe, that the state department has issued no travel warnings for the entire country, other than to be aware of pickpockets, and that I know a few Ladycollegians who live down there and raise their kids there and are, as far as I can tell, just fine.
All Spanish-speaking countries are Mexico as far as my mom is concerned, and she did get a tad mouthy and unpleasant, stating that "she did not want me going to South America." She would not admit that she knows next to nothing about South America and believes that I should turn down a free trip just so she doesn't have to worry about me.
She also offered us a pair of tickets to Sydney to go see Daniel if we don't go to scary, violent, dirty, and dangerous Chile. Because in her mind, it is Mexico and Mexico is horrible.
Don Francisco is from Chile, fwiw.
Posted by Zerd at October 8, 2007 02:30 PMSantiago is pretty nice, and the water is so safe, probably tasting better than what you've got in Texas! Although if she's willing to foot the bill for tix to Australia, you might want to take it since that is way more than a ticket to S. America. Feel free to call and chat about Chile if you want--I was only there for a few days, but I probably saw/know about the stuff you'd want to do/not do while there.
Miss ya!
Posted by: T-Bone at October 14, 2007 05:07 PM