tengue, tengue y TENGUE.
This was the first day in my two months in Mexico I went out, LEADING an expedition. Pause for effect.
Me and my pal, Summer, headed out on an "exploration venture". Of course there were ulterior motives but, we went.
Dropped off in the middle of Monterrey we wandered, walking, talking, gesturing. See-- my knowledge of how to say "Tengue, Tengue y TENGUE" (spank it, spank it and SPANK IT) has no practical use whatsoever when you're trying to discover which bus leads to home.
It was hot and humid (temperatures reach upwards of 104 degrees)and I think I have a scalp burn. Just in a straight line where my hair parts.
Boy, we did well. You know, I was under the false assumption that Mexican Mexicans where no where near American Mexicans. Yeah, I heard the Mexicans only whistle, snort, wheeze, and declare "I fucking love you, sexy baby making machine" and offer you their gonads for money in the United States of Freedom.
How wrong I was.
Let me tell you. I think it's an establishment of their masculinity to shout out, clear and proud, the fact that they find you to be the epitome of everything they've envision as "sexy" in their 60 years of gnarled life. To be embarassed before the whole world (if you don't already stick out enough because you're a blue-eyed albino in a brown and browner world)is something that is neither flattering or exciting.
For the record.
We made it home by bus. I swear that thing had no suspensions and I'm suspicious if it even had wheels. It sure felt like concrete on metal but that might have just been because I had to stand up the whole time gripping the overhead.
I wonder if it would help if I grew a mustache. How cool would that be?
Me and my pal, Summer, headed out on an "exploration venture". Of course there were ulterior motives but, we went.
Dropped off in the middle of Monterrey we wandered, walking, talking, gesturing. See-- my knowledge of how to say "Tengue, Tengue y TENGUE" (spank it, spank it and SPANK IT) has no practical use whatsoever when you're trying to discover which bus leads to home.
It was hot and humid (temperatures reach upwards of 104 degrees)and I think I have a scalp burn. Just in a straight line where my hair parts.
Boy, we did well. You know, I was under the false assumption that Mexican Mexicans where no where near American Mexicans. Yeah, I heard the Mexicans only whistle, snort, wheeze, and declare "I fucking love you, sexy baby making machine" and offer you their gonads for money in the United States of Freedom.
How wrong I was.
Let me tell you. I think it's an establishment of their masculinity to shout out, clear and proud, the fact that they find you to be the epitome of everything they've envision as "sexy" in their 60 years of gnarled life. To be embarassed before the whole world (if you don't already stick out enough because you're a blue-eyed albino in a brown and browner world)is something that is neither flattering or exciting.
For the record.
We made it home by bus. I swear that thing had no suspensions and I'm suspicious if it even had wheels. It sure felt like concrete on metal but that might have just been because I had to stand up the whole time gripping the overhead.
I wonder if it would help if I grew a mustache. How cool would that be?
Comments
but you have braved the mustached men and lived to tell the tale.
I salute you!
Next step is to battle the metro in Mexico City during rush hour!! Pray for legions of angels is my only advice!
And also some sunglasses.
HeHe