Lethargic Waves
I spent last week in Acapulco and I am exhausted. My wallet is empty and I imagine that it would like to cry, having shelled out so much so fast. It always hurts my soul when I spent money. For anything. Dollar bills are sacred.
I went with European exchange students in Zacatecas and with Jaciel, my Brazilian bro. I must confess that from the first day the aryans really started to annoy the hell out of me with their nonsense. We spent a lot of time trying to make up our minds about what to do, where to eat, and when to go to bed. We ate a lot in Burger King and Gigante, the supermarket.
We arrived Friday in Acapulco and we knocked over to the hotel, Santa Lucita, where we had secured two rooms. Each cost about $15 day, and looked exactly as you would expect. Two beds, light, and a bathroom that barely worked. It's a shitty life, but romantic. I felt raw surviving on beer and cheap fruits, arriving at the hotel every night as late as I wanted covered in sand. I was John Fante.
As we are pallid people from the colder parts of the Earth, our main activity was to hang out on the bech. That first Friday we spent the night ont he beach having a few drinks with a friendly family from Mexico City. I don't really remember the details, but somehow one of my sandals broke (just one) and I wailed passionately to God in heaven.
If some day you go to Acapulco, I warn you that the food is dirty and tastes like shit. I treated myself to a cup of Guava juice our first morning in the city and right away I got the runs. This is not an uncommon occurrence for me, but this time the same happened to Jaciel too, proving the place's nastiness.
We spent three days in the hotel recovering and diminishing the painfully small TP roll. Afterwards, Jaciel was visibly perturbed and did not speak much for the rest of the trip. His eyes alerted us to the paucity of thoughtstreams running through his big head. When at least he would dare to tell us something, it was "I have to shit" or something equally profound.
We had heard much about the nightclubs in acapulco and the dames had a mighty desire to discover their supposed splendor. I personally couldn't give less of a darn if we went or not; I knew it would be full of gringos. I decided to stay in the hotel. Everyone who wasn't drunk came back from the club depressed, that is to say everyone but Christoph. "Fucking gringos" complained the German girls. Jaciel looked downright sad and continued talking of "aryan bullshit."
After we expurgated our diarrhea, we went to La Quebrada (where the cliff divers jump) and a did a few more touristic things before saying goodbye to Acapulco. I was ready to leave. The sight of Americans embarrassed me and made me extremely irritated. I came to Mexico to escape the white race and I don't want to be bothered.
I am back in my house now, finally alone. Now I can do my thing and see my Mexican friends. Thanks to the trip I realized what I have here in Zacatecas. This is my home, and I don't want to leave it again until I have to.
I went with European exchange students in Zacatecas and with Jaciel, my Brazilian bro. I must confess that from the first day the aryans really started to annoy the hell out of me with their nonsense. We spent a lot of time trying to make up our minds about what to do, where to eat, and when to go to bed. We ate a lot in Burger King and Gigante, the supermarket.
We arrived Friday in Acapulco and we knocked over to the hotel, Santa Lucita, where we had secured two rooms. Each cost about $15 day, and looked exactly as you would expect. Two beds, light, and a bathroom that barely worked. It's a shitty life, but romantic. I felt raw surviving on beer and cheap fruits, arriving at the hotel every night as late as I wanted covered in sand. I was John Fante.
As we are pallid people from the colder parts of the Earth, our main activity was to hang out on the bech. That first Friday we spent the night ont he beach having a few drinks with a friendly family from Mexico City. I don't really remember the details, but somehow one of my sandals broke (just one) and I wailed passionately to God in heaven.
If some day you go to Acapulco, I warn you that the food is dirty and tastes like shit. I treated myself to a cup of Guava juice our first morning in the city and right away I got the runs. This is not an uncommon occurrence for me, but this time the same happened to Jaciel too, proving the place's nastiness.
We spent three days in the hotel recovering and diminishing the painfully small TP roll. Afterwards, Jaciel was visibly perturbed and did not speak much for the rest of the trip. His eyes alerted us to the paucity of thoughtstreams running through his big head. When at least he would dare to tell us something, it was "I have to shit" or something equally profound.
We had heard much about the nightclubs in acapulco and the dames had a mighty desire to discover their supposed splendor. I personally couldn't give less of a darn if we went or not; I knew it would be full of gringos. I decided to stay in the hotel. Everyone who wasn't drunk came back from the club depressed, that is to say everyone but Christoph. "Fucking gringos" complained the German girls. Jaciel looked downright sad and continued talking of "aryan bullshit."
After we expurgated our diarrhea, we went to La Quebrada (where the cliff divers jump) and a did a few more touristic things before saying goodbye to Acapulco. I was ready to leave. The sight of Americans embarrassed me and made me extremely irritated. I came to Mexico to escape the white race and I don't want to be bothered.
I am back in my house now, finally alone. Now I can do my thing and see my Mexican friends. Thanks to the trip I realized what I have here in Zacatecas. This is my home, and I don't want to leave it again until I have to.
posted by MYW at 2:44 PM
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