Dustsville

Trip Start Jun 30, 2008
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27
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Trip End May 09, 2009


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Flag of Mexico  , Northern Mexico,
Sunday, September 28, 2008

After a 14 hour journey involving several road blocks to ensure we weren´t importing dangerous fruit into the state of Sinaloa (the most notorious battlegrounds of bllodthirsty drugs czars abound and they´re worried about....fruit?!) and we arrived in Guasave, a ´city´of between 150,000 and 300,000 people according to whom you believe, which only appeared on the map last year. Spooky, I feel like Pedro Paramo. We were given a couple of hours to rest and whisked off to be presented properly to my other cousin Margot´s new in-laws. A Mexican baptism is a cause for great celebration, not only for the childs inclusion into the scared realms of the Holy Catholic Church, but also as yet another opportunity to imbibe vast quantities of alcohol surrounded by friends and family. The baby was thoughtfully tucked under the shade of tree while it´s nearest and dearest chugged away on the tequila.
After the dowdiness of Egyptian women, seeing the amount of effort these ladies had put into their dress was truly outstanding. Their appearance laid testament to hours spent in the hairdressers, makeupartists, manicurist and brand new silken dresses adorned perfectly gym toned and buffed bodies. I felt like we were at the Mexican Soap Star awards and significantly dowdy in comparison in a faded dress i´d filched from my sister´s closet before leaving.
Next day was my birthday and I was approporiately serenaded with Las Mañanitas at midnight and hugged and congratulated by my new adopted relatives. The day itself coincided with Margot´s hen night which was unlike any I´d ever experienced in Europe....or that they´d experienced in cosmopolitan Mexico City, the girls whisperedly assured me. Sinaloan hen nights- not a chippendale or plastic penis in sight. Instead a small bar was filled with tables, beautifully decorated with balloons and sand art, a live band led by the grooms father and about 150 women ranging in age from 21 to about 100, only 20% of which Margot actually knew. The girls made yesterday´s beauty preparations seem paltry in comparison and looked amazing, feathers, glitter and tons of makeup everywhere. Although piña coladas were plentiful and permanenetly supplied by the attentive bar staff, there wasn´t the drunkeness and leering that these occasions warrant back home. Seemed quite stressful for the prospective bride actually, to keep a permasmile on her face and politely meet legions of elderly aunts. Very amusing though to witness same elderly aunts conga-ing around the dance floor in time honoured Mexican tradition while the young ones sulked in the corner with a bottle of whiskey.
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