As I was sitting at the computer last night, post-blog, I was thinking about something else that happened in Puerto Escondido. One day, we walked on a plot of land where a dirt path had been cut out of the grass on our way up to Benito Juarez. At the end of the path was a sidewalk and across from the sidewalk was a building site where some 20 young men were working on the exterior of a modern-style, three-story apartment block. I had anticipated some whistling or uneducated comments, but what came to me was something different.
I was wearing a wide-rimmed hat and did what I do in Mexico City – kept to myself, eyes straight-forward, all very low key. Mum told me I was being a snob; I told her it was self-preservation.
My general experience has been that if you react, it just perpetuates the behavior. Although, once when I passed a bus stop where a small group of guys were waiting, they turned at the nod of the one guy facing me, said the usual, “Ahhh, que bonita eres…” clucked their tongues in approval, and leaned back to view the object of their attention. Instead of pretending it had never happened, I stopped and looked at them and told them, “Ten respeto.” They all responded in opposition to this with their own comments, most likely derogatory and intended to offend, and waving their hands in the air all the while but I couldn’t hear what they’d said because I was already half way down the street. Really, I was in Condesa, a safe, well-vigilated area for all the cars that pass through so it was unlikely that anything would happen, I just scared myself talking back to them in my second language. I was definitely not sufficiently equipped to defend myself in a real conversation at this point.
So we walked past this group of workers when I heard someone yell, “Hey lady!” This could have been followed by a “You dropped your sunglasses!” – even a “You’re pretty” would have been tolerable. My mum thought I was rude to be ignoring his equivalent of “Hello” but I kept on moving forwards. He then yelled “I love you!” I shook my head and smiled under the brim of my hat. I guess it is an important phrase but if you’re going to learn one phrase in another language how about a conversation starter, not an expression of love! Mum did bring it to my attention that that was it. He was probably never going to fall in love again, never find a love like ours again, so I should at least respond to him. If just the top of my hat made him fall in love with me, maybe there was a chance that I could fall in love with him with a quick peek at the soles of his shoes…but I just wasn’t ready to take that chance. I do wonder, though, how did he expect me to react? With a passion-bent “I love you!” before clambering up the scaffolding in my dress to meet him for the first time with an enormous kiss as a sign of my instantaneous but undying love for him?
Even though it was funny, I was grateful for the 3-storey difference between us. At least it wasn’t as awkward as the time that Jess and I met some young monks in a Buddha Park outside of Vientiane in Laos and upon parting ways one of the monks told us that he wanted to come with us because “I love you.” We smiled and told him not to throw that around too much. The phrase wasn’t all that inappropriate - again just funny - but I’m pretty sure that his being with us, having pictures taken with us, putting his arm around us, was completely inappropriate.
The enamored construction worker never did call out to me again. Apparently he moved on, although judging from his quick ability to fall in love it didn’t surprise me the rate at which he fell out of love.
Small digression as usual. So there I was sitting at the computer with my head resting on my hand, my elbow resting on my knee, and my knee pulled up with my foot on the chair and I was thinking about all of this. Suddenly, I started to feel this swaying and concluded that I had finally worn myself out from being on the computer too long and was going to faint. In a mini-panic, I planted my feet firmly on the ground just to check that I was in fact feeling dizzy, then pulled my foot up onto the chair again to see if the feeling would reoccur. It did. So I called to Saul to come upstairs, the great plan being that he would be there to catch me when I fainted – which to date I have still never done. The hypochondriac that I am, I had convinced myself that I was near collapse but got up in one last dramatic effort to call to Saul.
As I heard him coming up the stairs, he was yelled to me, “What?” Then as he got closer, he asked me, “Did you feel the earthquake?” to which I responded, “Oh…yeah. Crazy. That’s what I was going to ask you.” Of course it was an earthquake…duh, what else would it be…like I didn’t know.
I probably should spend less time on the computer regardless of my now irrelevant near faux-fainting experience. On that note, off I go.
