Surprises

While I was in Mexico, I was often super confused.

I spent a semester in Mexico, and during that time a dated a guy who lived there. I liked him a LOT, which probably helped me overlook the numerous ways he was kind of a total asshole. Not that I'm bitter.

Anyway, asshole or no, he took pretty good care of me while I was there, made sure I didn't get into any trouble and that I got to see a little bit of the country other than the city, where I was staying. I hung out with him and his friends most of my free time. That's where the confusion comes into play. I got pretty good at keeping up with their Spanish, but every once in awhile I'd understand something slightly wrong.

For example: Pulque is a super Mexican alcoholic beverage. It's basically tequila and sweetened condensed milk, with some flavoring mixed in. It's incredibly weird, and I tried it within my first few weeks in Mexico. 

Pulquerias sell pulque.

Peluquerias cut your hair. 

Pelo is hair, peluchin is hairy/fuzzy, so the word does make sense.

What doesn't make sense, is trying to figure out why your friends are discussing getting their hair cut by people who sell sweetened condensed milk-tequila. It seems incredibly counterproductive and risky to get your hairs cut in a place of drunken debacles. 

Anyway, I felt like I was usually playing catch up. It was a lesson in humility, or would have been if playing catch-up wasn't partially due to the fact that they were definitely just making life up as they went along.

Life in confusion was fine, but what really bothered me was never knowing how to dress. If we were going to be going out to the clubs I should wear one thing, if we were going to a house party I should wear something else. If we weren't doing anything at all, I'd wear something else entirely. This was partially due to vanity, I won't pretend otherwise. It's nice to be dressed appropriately. But there's also the case that in Mexico (and probably other places? I wouldn't know) you have to be dressed up all schnazzy to get into clubs, let alone feel like you sort of fit in there. House parties require more layers because it gets cold at night, and houses in Mexico City don't have heating. Appearances matter.

I hated ending up dressed for the wrong thing.

It made me feel even more out of place (as a ginger in Mexico) and was often uncomfortable (brrr).

The guy I was dating didn't understand why I always had a zillion questions about our plans for the weekend.
I just didn't like to be unprepared.

On my last day there, he had planned an outing to a famous plaza. He didn't tell me what we were going to do until early afternoon, "Because you don't like surprises"

Like hell I don't!

I'm moving to Georgia in less than a month, and I have no idea where I'll be living or what my life will be like when I get there. I'm doing this willingly. I do like surprises, gaddamnit. I am all the spontaneity.

But never knowing what was going on certainly made me better at layering, and planning out multi-purpose outfits. So in the end, looking like a slob at the clubs did pay off.

Blue: My weird European corduroy shirt that Ola left when she went back to Poland
Track of the day: Restless Heart by Matt Hires. This song makes me feel like I could be singing it, and have it sung about me. Just all of the winning.