Yesterday was such a delightful Mexican day that I want to share it with all of you! After Spanish class, I caught a cab on the street to go home. I noticed that the driver knew where I live. He said he'd driven me before with my galletitas (little cookies). I didn't pay much attention to his comment.
As we approached Estación the traffic became increasingly congested, and Federales were all over the place. Since students were hanging out in groups in the park and seemed unconcerned, I wasn't either. The driver and I thought perhaps there'd been an accident. As we prepared to make the right-hand turn onto the Carreterra Morelia, the cause of the delay became blatantly apparent: Una manifestación!
Striking protesters had hung a banner across the highway and blocked traffic in both directions! Not only was the Carreterra blocked, but the via that runs parallel to the railroad tracks in front of our house was also blocked. Kids were walking on the railroad track, but that's not an option for me, so we turned around and headed back to Centro. It was my first experience with this kind of action. I didn't know whether to be worried or to sit back and enjoy the diversion!
My driver seemed basically unconcerned as he explained that if I waited one or two hours, the protesters would melt away and I could go home. He also seemed to be highly amused by the entire episode, so I joined with him -- and we chatted away about the rather random impacts of this Manifestación! We were thoroughly enjoying ourselves playing with the situation.
A typical American -- say, like me a couple of years ago -- might have been frustrated, frightened, or even angered by the situation. But I realized that the driver was enjoying the present moment 100%. He wasn't a captive to or worried about the future. He didn't seem to have any agenda other than being with me in the taxi...chatting away about this Manifestactión and brainstorming with me to figure how I might pass the time until I could go home. After some discussion, we decided that I would enjoy a cafecito at an outdoor cafe on the Plaza Grande.
Then he announced, "You are my Bad Luck." "What?" I asked, startled.
"Yes, the last time I drove you, you forgot your bag of cookies, and I had to return to your house to bring them to you," he said.
Then I remembered -- when we had a little get-together for Kyla and Rebecca at Christmastime, I had bought good cookies from the Yolo Bakery in Centro. Absent-mindedly, I'd left them in the taxi. He had indeed returned to deliver the cookies. I ask you all, what are the odds that I would have the same driver with two events like this?
"But," I asked, "how was I able to call you?"
"I'd given you my card," he said. We had a high old time playing with the idea that I bring him bad luck!
"Wait a minute," I proposed, "Maybe you collect all your bad luck in one place, so after you drive me you have only good fortune." He loved that idea. "Perhaps," I suggested, "my name should be la Señora de la Mala Suerte."
He chuckled before countering, "No, your name should be la Patronista de la Mala Suerte."
He laughed again when I said, "Your wife is going to love this story."
By the time I got out at the Plaza Grande, we were old friends and, believe it or not, he gave me his card again! Gotta love Mexico!
P.S. The next day I found out that the protest was to attract the attention of the Municipal Government to a property dispute in Tzurumutaro, the next pueblo. Apparently two sets of owners have documents giving them title to the land. As I said before, gotta love Mexico!
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