In the Land of the Tortillas

Breathtaking sunset over the Pacific

It took me a couple of days to unclench my fists, and loosen my jaw once we arrived in Ixtapa, Mexico for Christmas. I didn't realize how much I missed our "second home" until we arrived and were settled in for a couple of days. The first few days were spent trying to forget the constant noise, pushing and sweltering heat of Asia. I guarded my table in the restaurants like a hawk, thinking someone was going to come along and put a packet of tissues on the table to take it away from us, like they do at the Hawker stations in Singapore. Once I got past the screaming nightmares and had a few tequilas, everything on our return visit home, was under control.

Our tiny Mexican family

It has been 18 months since we were in Mexico, and we have been in, on, and around dozens of beaches since we left North America but there is nothing that spells rest and relaxation like the sand in Mexico; that is unless you go during Spring Break. Then that spells, bikinis, booze and ambulances hauling away pickled university students. We got lucky; our week was filled with family Christmas festivities, courteous staff and people that greeted you with Buenos Dias every time you met. In Singy, I could faint dead away in the MRT train and no one would lift a finger or bat an eye at my plight, except to push me off the seat so they could sit down.

Stuffing our faces again

Like me, R2 was homesick for his sister in Mexico. It had been too long since he saw her and his tiny family. His parents passed away so he is an orphan with only his sister's family to call his own. He has adopted my mom as his surrogate madre but with no VISA to Canada, and scared to death of the snow, he wanted to eat, drink and breathe Mexico for a week. What a week it was.  If R2 could gain weight, he would be a Sumo wrestler by now with all of the tortillas, sopes, quesadillas, chilaquiles and beans he shoved down his gullet. I told him he needed to slow his pace and that no one was going to take the corn tortillas away from him.  He was so excited to have authentic Mexican food that he forgot breathing was essential to eating. After every meal he would complain, "I can't believe I stuffed my face like that again. I need to stop," and yet each meal he would be ravenous, indulging in the familiar food from his childhood. I would just shake my head and make a bee-line for the papaya and mango.

One of the twenty crocodiles at Playa Linda

I have been to Mexico so many times, I have lost track but even so, I never grow bored or restless with the country. There is so much to see and do and this time was no exception. We wandered down to the crocodile swamp where there are vibrant flamingos and egrets among the prehistoric reptiles. It was Sunday so many locals hang out at the swamp because it is free to view. Even though we have been there dozens of times, we never tire of watching these slow moving beasts sneak up on the egrets for a morning snack. 

My goddaughter with baby and teeth

This time, we were shocked to see an elderly, dark skin man with daisy duke shorts, bleached blond hair and a wonky eye walking among the crocodiles. He was cleaning the banks from garbage and telling everyone that he is able to walk among the reptiles. At least that is what I think he said.  He might have said he was selling crocodile boots from the back of his car because my Spanish is still in the learning phase. I fear that one day, someone will happen upon this sanctuary and only find his hat and mess of blond hair. I have seen the crocodiles sneak up on an egret and make a quick meal out of it, and I don't think this 80-something year old man man is as agile as the bird.

He hauled out some tiny crocodiles for the locals to pet and take photos with, but we stayed far back. Even the babies had a mouth full of teeth that would do serious damage if they thought we looked sweet and juicy. Really people, it is not a puppy or a kitten. They are not adorable and fun to cuddle; it is a crocodile, no matter how small.

The rest of the week was filled with gyms, swimming, jelly fish stings, snorkelling and generally being a lazy sloth which is a good thing because once again, landing in the USA is pure hell and you need to be on top of your game to deal with Customs and Immigration.

We got off the plane in some nameless US city, to be ushered like steer to the Visitors line. It was similar to being in Disneyland, winding through the enormous queue. You were forced to listen to the propaganda welcoming us all to the United States of America, over and over. In fact, we listened to it for the 1.5 hours we stood in that line.  We watched as the Americans raced through their lines but us Mexicans stood, silently waiting for our opportunity to be abused when we finally got our turn with the official.

I can't believe I ate so much, again

Our Agent was named Lopez, but I guess he forgot his roots and manners when he spoke to us. As usual, R2 was treated badly, his passport scrutinized from all the stamps that decorate his pages and the usual question, "What are you doing with this Canadian woman?'  "She is my wife." And the sceptical eyebrow from the agent.  "How long you lived in Thailand and what is your business?" "We live in Singapore, huge difference, and he is a Computer Engineer." Can we go now!  I had to correct Sr. Lopez three times that we lived in Singapore and contained myself from punching him in the throat for his racist attitude toward R2. As a Canadian, I am treated decently, but if you are Latino, watch out and be prepared for the glove if you look the wrong way.

We barely made the gate to my next plane, where R2 and I parted company with only a few leaky tears from me. He flew to Chicago, where his Singapore reservation mysteriously disappeared, was rerouted through Beijing almost freezing to death with the ten hour layover. I went to Denver for an overnighter before I boarded a miniscule plane to Canada to surprise my family for Christmas.  

The things we do, just to get a decent Tortilla.