Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Fire and Bleach

In my experience, Mexico is a country of intense surprise. Good surprises and bad surprises flow like unpurified water. It could be my culture shock kicking back in again, but I can't help but think it is something deeper. Mexicans expect life to deliver both horror and beauty and they are not surprised when it does exactly that. Maybe it started with Cortes riding that horse into Mexico City. He looked like a god and the people were not surprised their god had come. Then the horror began.

The culture of Mexico has been woven from a fabric of intense cruelty and unimaginable beauty. The Spanish and the Catholic church perpetrated horrors on the native population here in Mexico for hundreds of years. Today the wealthy and those in power continue their tradition of callous cruelty but somehow, those without power or wealth, live life with a joy and appreciation for beauty that somehow transends reality, making life bearable. The Mexican fabric I was wearing this week was transformed in a surprising way.

Our friend Mary Ellen, Harry and I were grocery shopping together at Mega, the large Target-like store here in San Jose. I reached up high on a shelf for a bottle of bleach and to my dismay, found myself drenched in its contents. The bottle had no cap and my momentum splashed the contents all over my arm, my hands and my clothes. I watched as much of my black blouse immediately turned an ugly brown and my light colored pants turned lighter. Mary Ellen and Harry went to find a store employee to report this event. I suddenly found my self surrounded by the English-speaking Mexican workers who roam the isles helping tourists find peanut butter and attempting to sell you a local time-share. They all looked so sad for me, shaking their heads in disbelief, that I figured I would be compensated in some way. They all disappeared as quickly as they had appeared and I was suddenly standing alone in the soap and detergent aisle smelling terrible and looking ridiculous.

I got mad and wanted to get even. I am an American! I had not brought down many clothes that were appropriate for this hot humid weather. I needed the outfit I was wearing. I got fired up and chased after one of the bi-lingual employees. He took me to a manager who, after much debate and argument, told me I could have a blouse from the store, but not an expensive blouse. Finding a blouse is not easy for me here in Mexico: shoes I can find easily; blouses, no. Mexican women have small feet like mine, but not generally my bust size. A woman employee in the clothing department began diligently bringing me very ugly "sale" blouses and after a few tries, I thanked her and fumed off. Just another arrogant American shopper.

Mary Ellen, expat of 20 years here, told me I needed to just let it go, though she went to the store manager too and told him in the states or in Canada this would have been handled differently. I had told the manager what it would cost to replace the outfit but he smiled and pointed out I was not physically hurt. This sort of thing happens all the time in the store he said. Why was I so surprised? You are now wearing a different colored outfit! What's the big deal? "Ni modo!"

I took Mary Ellen's advice and thought, in my American way, there is a bright side to this! I now can rationalize going shopping for clothes! I went into town to the clothing store where I had bought my now bleached outfit and bought a new shirt and pants (OK, I bought two new shirts and two new pairs of pants: there was a sale going on). I was traumatized after all! Well, the surprises just kept coming! I learned I now could wear clothes from the shop that were two sizes smaller than what I had been buying when I lived here.

The last surprise of the day came after we had eaten dinner at our favorite beach-side restaurant that night. We were just about to leave and suddenly a group of two young women and two young men came dancing across the beach with torches ablaze, fired up, but in a positive way. The ocean waves crashed behind them in the darkness as they entertained us for several amazingly beautiful minutes.

SURPRISE!!!



2 comments:

  1. I'm a little confused. You are now able to buy clothes two sizes smaller. Does that mean the bleach shrunk your bust size?

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  2. Oh Jeanne, I can't even tell you how much I love your blog posts. I'm glad the bleach harmed only your clothes, not your skin, and the fire dancing sounds lovely. We can't wait to see you.

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