Mexican World Review

It’s only Jan 20. My body has had some trouble adjusting to the EXTREME dryness here and how it affects my temperature sensitivity, among other things. But I’ve only been here three effing weeks! I almost lost my mind yesterday evening. It was 57 degrees out and I was freezing, no matter how much I layered up. It was driving me nuts. The complete illogic of the situation. How can it possibly feel so cold when it’s 57 degrees out. It is just not something that can be easily explained or summarized for anyone who has not experienced it. I lived 50 years in a country where it was normal to have a thermostat. A thermostat makes it so indoor temperatures never fluctuate more than a couple degrees! How strange that already seems to me from this new vantage point.

I kept taking my body temperature yesterday and the day before because I had chills. I’ve never had chills like that in my entire life except when I was sick or about to be sick. But I had no fever. A couple days ago I was sure I would be sick by today. But I’m not sick. That much is good.

Stores here do not carry humidifiers. Not even the local wal-mart or home depot. But they can be mail ordered. Anything can be mail ordered.

I think it’s possible the space heaters make me feel colder by drying out the air even more. Also possible there are multiple factors, including some sinus irritation that makes me perceive cold in the same way I would if I were sick.

The nervous system is flesh. As surely as the skin. It can tire, tear, become less supple. And it can soften, thicken, join.

I’m not a nervoussystemologist. But it figures that it’s flesh, and can become injured and heal.

I am a nervoussystemologist, though not formally trained. Training is formal, by definition. Not institutionally.

Everything is by definition. By definition.

Rest, privacy, simplicity, are privileges and/or necessities. Necessities are privileges, and drugs.

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An orange is like an orange isn’t an analogy. It’s a tautology, I think. Something to remember the next time you use an analogy and someone says “yeah, but that’s different.” A tautology is like an analogy, but barely. A simile is like a smile.

A homonym is a cantaloupe. A defect is the solution. Out of sight, out of mind.

Imagination is potentially useful. Imagine it is.

It’s very cold in my apartment in the mornings, but I’ve found a much, much better way to warm up. Do pushups. It’s much, much faster than sitting by the space heater, or even drinking coffee.

Temperature here makes no sense. It is ALWAYS warmer outside. Even this morning, when the outdoor temperature is 45, when I step outside — into the shade — it is warmer.

I repeat: It is always warmer outside.

This is against the laws of physics.

Of course, in the sun, it is always warmer. That conforms to physics. But it is also always warmer on my balcony, which is shaded nearly the entire day.

I completed the process for my 1-year residency.

There were a couple final details I missed.  I didn’t bring one document to the appointment.  But it was in my email, so they sent me across the street to a papeleria to print that out.  And I left my middle initial off the application.  One’s name has to appear exactly as it does on the passport.  The government worker said for that reason she couldn’t accept the application.  I figured no big deal, I’ll just make a new appointment and bring back a corrected application.  But then she said she didn’t want me to have to make a new appointment, so she would print out a new application with my middle initial.  I was sent back to the waiting room, and 10 minutes later she summoned me once again to the back office, had me sign the new application, took my credit card payment, and told me I was done.  She said to come back tomorrow, or whenever I felt like it, for the printing of the ID card.

And she explained I’ll need to come back before 1 year has passed to get the card renewed.  This I already knew.

Overall they were nice enough, and helpful, though businesslike.

So I’m now allowed to be here, today, tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that. etc.

Following the appointment, I took a walk near the harbor, then returned to my apartment, took a shower, and made a large meal.

I made my third visit to immigration today and it was exhausting, like an intense therapy session.  I returned to my apartment and spent an hour in panic-freeze.  But then I had a breakthrough.  I won’t try recounting all the tedious details, but I think I’m now on track.  I should be OK with the immigration process.  My next trip to the office will be less embarrassing, I believe.

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The other night I looked at the lights in the hills from my balcony, and unexpectedly I had a feeling like I live here.  Suddenly it felt as much like this is my city as Washington, DC, felt like my city when I lived there.  It’s a little surprising that I can just decide where to live, and it takes hold so quickly.

I went to the beach the other day.

I miss the beach. I need to go back. I think it was about a 20-30 minute walk to get there.

I’m having my revenge muffin in bed. Fortunately there are about 9 playoff games today so I don’t have to face the indignity of being alive while there isn’t a football game on.

Yesterday’s games really seemed to help with my spanish. My listening comprehension improved substantially just from watching two games. I went from understanding 3% of the words to understanding maybe 15%.

But I’m perplexed by huevos. The broadcasters keep saying a word that sounds like huevos, often in the phrase “de los huevos.” Huevos are eggs, and the word is sometimes used to mean testicles, as in “he’s got balls.” However, there is no possible way they are saying testicles so frequently. It’s like every third sentence the announcers utter contains the word huevos. Or something that sounds like huevos. The good news is that once I figure this out, it will fill in a lot of gaps for me.

think I a little about the things identified to the north, north of the border, and if to note them. A crescendo of ugliness and embarrassment, or just a continuation. I guess I… don’t want to talk about it. My activities are not a prescription, or even a statement. I have maybe some decades left in this incredibly dangerous dream. I don’t want to spend them attending to ugliness. I don’t want to be a hero, particularly. By definition, nothing’s more dangerous than to be a complex nervous system. Penalty is the point, one of its main points. Keep on the sunny side. Heh, I’m glad I don’t have a hip hop empire. I was a free man in paris. They say it’s safest to be busy. I’m not sure.

I think I’ve made a little too much progress, too fast.  I’ve only been here a week, and I’ve nearly figured out the immigration process.  With some help from the people at the immigration office, which I have visited twice to ask questions. 

I don’t quite understand my situation.  I’ve slept a lot.  I hardly do anything but I’m moving too fast.  I’m a little shaky.  Today at immigration a facilitator overheard my conversation with the government worker, and he tried to offer me his services.  Facilitators are consultants who help you with the immigration process, for a fee.  He wasn’t pushy, and when I said no, he said he understood that position.  But it was a bit much, regardless.  It added a little to my mental overhead to have to say no to him and turn my attention back to the government worker behind the counter.

Anyhow, I’ve only been here a week.  I could try to go a whole day without accomplishing anything, but I’m not sure that would feel good.

I’m doing fine, there are no real problems.  That’s a little disorienting.  I ran out of muffins.  I should probably go get some more fish tacos with the spicy sauce.  But I was just there yesterday.  I don’t want them to think I’m going to buy fish tacos every day.  What if I go today and then don’t go tomorrow.  They might worry about me.  Two is a pattern.  I better lie down for a few minutes then go get some fish tacos.

I heard The Doors last night.  Live.  I’m not kidding.  Just three of them.  John Densmore, Ray Manzarek and Jim Morrison, in that order.  They have a polka band.  I’m not kidding.  They were playing about 20 meters from here.  It was them.  I will have to tell you about it soon.  It was incredible.  I was sober.  Otherwise I wouldn’t trust my recollection.

It just feels sort of normal to be here. It doesn’t feel very dramatic. It doesn’t feel like a sharp break from my life in the USA. Maybe this is because I’ve been to latin america 10 or so times, for vacation, in the past. Maybe also because I’ve watched so many youtube videos about Mexico in the past year. But it is different here, for sure.

I wondered if I would feel some sense of panic being away from friends, family and my house. Like maybe I would get here and realize I had made a big mistake, and a difficult one to reverse. Nope, not at all.

Friends are everywhere. I was walking along a road earlier today and a guy walking along the same road asked me if I spoke spanish. And then we had a brief conversation. He had lived in Arizona for 23 years at one point, he said. His english wasn’t very good. I asked how long he had been in Ensenada. Eight months. I asked him if he thought it was a dangerous city. He was a little surprised by the question and answered vehemently, “No, it’s a good city.”

My host wants to make me soup. She’s concerned about my nutrition. I told her of course she can make me soup.

And there’s a cat that’s talked to me a couple times.

Weirdly, the television mounted on the wall in this furnished apartment is exactly the same brand, model and size as the one I owned in DC. I sold it around 10 days ago for $30. I watched some American football Sunday. The Mexican broadcast flipped back and forth from game to game much more often than is customary in the USA, and made frequent use of a split screen to show two games.

The first night I was here, last Wednesday, I was depressed and had a bit of a WTF-am-I-doing-here feeling, but that was literally the day I flew here, so I discounted it. The next day, and ever since, I’ve been OK. Finding a good place to buy underwear was an early psychological turning point — I’m not kidding.

I had a kind of foggy rice cake feeling in my brain since arrival, and it seemed like the kind of feeling that coffee would dispel, so I kept trying to address it with coffee, but that didn’t work at all. Then today I had some very, very spicy sauce with my fish tacos, and the foggy rice cake feeling is gone.

I’ve only eaten out twice, including today.

Magic realism is a bitch sometimes. I left the apartment to go to a lavanderia one block from here, and I had to walk about 20 blocks to find it, even though the signage was perfectly clear. Worse, by the time I got there I had wings and a tail.

I’ve done some revenge sleeping, and eaten some revenge muffins. I learned yesterday I have a renter for the house in DC, which came as a great surprise somehow. It’s a couple — a lawyer and a consultant.