As it turns out, it's the noun for drunkenness (is drunkeness already a noun?).. and over the course of three days I discovered that for these 11 Mexicans, it's less of an occupation.... more of a religion. The god:
Tequila on ice, ice on tequila.
This group knows how to put on a good party: they hired a 15-bedder house complete with cook, cleaners and a waiter, and bought enough alcohol to put the Cunard to shame (don't ask me, I just googled 'most famous cruise ship in the world' for the reference). The house was amazing, from its perch on the Las Brisas hill, it looked out right across Acapulco Bay, which is an amazing view even for an Australian.
Last time I went to Acapulco, it was with the business crowd and I had a new boyfriend to use as a crutch. This time, it was just me, the publicity crowd, a blowup whale that featured highly in the the activities of 'la peda'... and sink or swim.
To an extent, I sank, even with a flotation device at my disposal. But that's ok, I guess. It was an interesting experience, succumbing to the waves of indecipherable chilango Spanish, with more double meanings and word-plays than a good Enid Blyton novel.
Yes, I can speak Spanish. No, I can't speak Chilango. It's like learning a whole new language... like watching Amores Perros without the subtitles. Just keeping up with the general theme of conversation was enough for me, getting the incessant jokes was beyond me.
So, basically I was the social equivalent of an anthropologist, who hovers on the edge of a tribe watching its behaviour through binoculars from a safe vantage-point in the long grass.
It's amazing the things you notice when the limits of your own communication, and ability to grasp what's going on, relegate you to the ranks of fringe dweller. You notice things like: the Argentinian doesn't chew when he eats, the alpha male (with the unlikely name of 'Gatsby') has a deformed left nipple, the alpha female (who goes out with the alpha male) is perfectly comfortable dancing in front of an audience of 12 in her gold shoes, the two 'gorditos' (fatties) who got together whilst plastered were actually quite embarrassed about being teased the next day.
I also made the interesting discovery that fringe dwellers make their own allegences. I've never had too much to do with the introverts before.... I begrudgingly allow them their place in the crowd, while quietly resenting them for not contributing more. I think of them more as eating a good meal that someone else has cooked without even bringing wine.
But sitting on the couch with Ray and Arturo watching everyone dance and perform for each other, I discovered a sort of comfort in this role.
Ray had his own role: DJ. He took all his frustration at being shy, and channelled it into the most amazing soundtrack for a weekend I've ever heard. He never ventured more than 10 metres from his mixer, which had two ipods perched in it, and attempts at conversation sometimes felt as if they were an annoying disruption to the central task of making sure one song segued perfectly into another. I soldiered on though, assuming that this was just shyness. If it wasn't, he thinks I"m the most annoying person in the world.
Arturo, possessor of the most beautiful set of lips in the world, channelled his shyness into a different seamless progression: cigarettes. I have never seen anyone smoke so much, and found myself wondering how he found any breath to talk at all. One of my weekend highlights was the (inevitable) trip to the service station for more cigarettes when we talked about a lot of not very much, and I felt myself again.
Needless to say, with all that concentrating, I had to sleep a lot. It was amazing actually, after all those weeks of strange sleep patterns, to suddenly possess the ability to nod off at the drop of a hat. Not sure whether it was the oxygen-rich, moisture-laden air, the unfiltered sunshine, or the need to escape that sinking feeling of being the only person who's not laughing... but sleeping was a task I performed outstandingly.
Unfortunately, it was not one of the more cherished skill sets in this group. Even public farting gained more kudos than the ability to sleep. eg. my 3am efforts were glossed over and met with sympathetic looks, like 'don't worry, maybe you'll do better tomorrow night'. I didn't.
But today (apart from having done something to my ciatic nerve, I suspect by jumping onto the inflatable whale) I feel great.
The last moment my back felt like itself:
Actually, from the pics Sarali just sent through, I now understand why my back is so sore, as it seems I ditched my anthropologist role for La Peda and spent a good few hours either upside down on the whale, or dancing.
And thus floated.
