2011 06 13

Well, we’re still recuperating from the virus, but the rains have started so we’re not as miserable as we were.  We are getting accustomed to the house and the neighbours, the routines of life in a hot country.  We are so lucky in our friends, they have all been an immeasurable help, as well as a lot of fun.

Speaking of which, I am no longer a Catholic virgin.  Yes, I have actually set foot inside a Catholic church and lived to tell the tale!  My doctors, Celeste and Fernando, got married on Saturday.  They were beautiful.  I didn’t understand a lot of the mass, and the bits that I did understand offended my egalitarian/feminist principles, but all this stuff is important to the Kids, and therefore requires some degree of (feigned) respect on my part.

The church was hot as hell.  It was full of people, some of whom were familiar to me from my last sojourn here.  It was fun to see them, but my virus has settled in my larynx and I couldn’t talk so much as croak.  The bride wore a white gown, quite simple, with black accents, such as the laces up the back of the bustier and in her hair.  It was pretty.  The groom, of course, was in a black suit.  The parents of the nuptial couple were in long gowns or suits,  gender appropriately, and looked very happy with the whole thing.  The rest of the attendees ran the gamut from formal gowns to mini-skirts a la puta to jeans.  Paul sang as part of the service, and did a beautiful job, especially considering that his throat was sore.  I was surprised to hear such a lovely voice, actually, because when he sings along in the car, it ain’t quite so tuneful as one might like.  As I get deafer, of course, slight variations in pitch no longer seem so apparent to me.

The mass was …  interminable.  All that bobbing up and down and talking back to the  priest.  Speaking of whom, he is a trained singer, and performed ‘Ave Maria (Schubert) during the ceremony, and immediately afterward, some Spanish high-range thing that I didn’t recognise.  The Voice was more baritone than tenor, but he got the high notes easily if quietly, and was very pleasant to listen to.  This is apparently not the norm, for priests to sing so much.  I thought pride was a Catholic sin??  The accompaniment was a choir of 7 women, an organ and a violinist who suffers from the same affliction as I - he was noticeably out of tune.  Cele and Fernando entered and exited to the Mendelssohn, but it was recorded badly - and why was it recorded with an organist in house?  The choir and the priest had occasional disagreements about pitch as well, methinks the priest was correct.

We adjourned to a local hotel for the reception, and suffered massively from heat and noise, I mean music.  The windows did not open, and the air-conditioning only affected half the room, so my table was dripping sweat most of the time.  The food was interesting if unidentifiable.  The band consisted of two men, a keyboard and a computer - and 8 million decibels of amplification.  I couldn’t talk in the first place, and with all that, I couldn’t hear either.  Gary had decided to stay home as he was coughing non-stop and didn’t want to interrupt the service, which turns out to have been absolutely unnecessary.  I was disappointed to not be able to introduce him to the acquaintances at my table.  Poor Cele and Fernando - the bride-and-groom first dance was to recorded music, played so loudly the speakers were blathering, and went on for 7 minutes.  Then the parents of the groom danced with them, then the parents of the bride, all for another 6 minutes.  Need I mention that my 29 year old friends don’t actually know how to waltz?  13 minutes of shuffling around while being video-taped is my idea of a good time, how about you?  I made my escape - I mean departure - about 23:30, after the bride threw the bouquet.  It was, all in all, an interesting experience, if one that I will hope to never have to repeat.

The other exciting trip this last week was to Morelia to finish getting Gary’s visa in order.  Enrique drove us, which turned out to be the best of all possible worlds.  In the first place, I wanted someone with us who is fluent in both English and Spanish and in the second, familiar with Morelia -  we would have been completely fucked without him.  The first address we had was the wrong office, and the right office was far enough away that it took us a little while to find it.  Directions in Mexico consist of drive that way until you see X, then turn right and keep driving until you find what you’re looking for.  Try telling that to a bus driver in broken Spanish.  It was hot.  It was crowded.  It is impossible to find street addresses.  People drive as though they are headed to an emergency, and frankly, in many cases, they are - of their own making.  The ‘proper’ office closes for the day at 13:00, and we arrived at 12:33.  We made it, G has the proper paperwork to complete, and then we have to return to Morelia.  I hope Enrique is going to be available to navigate the currents, I don’t have any idea where in the hell we ended up.

Well, that about covers it.  I have to go get a cell phone that works - the one I have has no Spanish language option and I can’t figure out how to dial international calls - and pay the internet bill.  Have good week!

R