I think I remember somebody telling me when I first arrived that the Mexican pizza places are a joke – that they don’t know how to make pizza. How correct they were. And, to defend myself from somebody accusing me of some self fulfilling premonition, my roommate agrees. On the menu however was an onion and tuna pizza. I’m tellin’ ya, these guys like their tuna. Have I already mentioned the isle at the grocery store, half of which is dedicated to tuna cans? It’s that and mayonnaise; they’re addicted to them both. There’s mayo with lemon, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s jalapeño mayo. Good luck finding peanut butter though. Caramel goat milk spread is good.

One American food that Mexico has managed to improve upon is the hotdog. Holy shit, man, they can make a dog. There’s a stand down the way that makes 9 different kinds of dogs. I just scarfed down one with jalapeños, guacamole, bacon, and Vishnu knows what else. My eyes rolled into the back of my head upon the first bite.

Tortas are good too – you can find torta places everywhere. A torta is basically a sandwich, Mexican style.

“Micheladas” are the worst thing ever. I’m not sure how they’re spelled, but they’re a drink with beer, clamato, some spices and hot sauce. BLECH! In Fresno I found some girls that liked Tapatio in their Coronas and I thought that they were just sort of, you know, crazy. Turns out there are plenty of crazy people out here bent on ruining a perfectly good beer.

Old Milwaukee is the most expensive beer I’ve seen yet. There are plenty of different beers down here that I don’t think make it into the states. So far my favorite is Montejo. They’re not big on ales. Most beer is light yellow, “cerveza clara.”

I’ve recently learned of some tradition only Mexican families observe: I don’t remember the name in Spanish, but it’s something like “3 kings day.” Among other things, a cake is made and a little plastic doll is buried in it. Whosoever takes a bite and gets the doll (it’s supposed to be baby Jesus) is supposed to make a ton of tamales to be eaten on February 2^nd. I don’t remember what that day is called. “3 kings day” is on the 7^th or something. So far, after talking to students about the holiday, I’ve heard two stories about where a family member intentionally swallowed the doll so that they wouldn’t have to make or buy a ka-zillion tamales (Mexicans have big families – and they bring their friends, too).

I have a student that stays after class to talk to me about this, that, and the other. I’m not sure if she’s dropping me hints or is just genuinely interested in English and “American culture.” We shall see. I’ve learned that it’s quite common for teachers to date students.

I enjoy teaching, more or less. It can be a pain the ass though to give the same lesson 4 times in one day. All the bugs are worked out by the last class, but my fuse is a little shorter then. The first class gets a cheerier teacher, but a lesson riddled with errors. For example, I was pronouncing “gerund” as “gur-und” when it’s “jer-und.” The next day I broke it to the class that I am a total fool. Its amazing how forgiving they are; youngsters (14-19) and professionals alike.

I’m on the Mexican, woe woe, radio – this Sunday that is. I’m not totally sure what to expect, but one of the teachers, an American, is the host. Every week he has another teacher on as a guest. All they do is bullshit. Sounds fun. Also, they play whateverthefuck they want. Copyrights? Pishaw! “did you bring any music with you?” he asked. I mentioned a hundred gigs or so of mp3s. “Perfect” he said.

I was almost creamed crossing the street two days ago. Red lights are apparently ignored late at night. So are stop signs. We took a taxi home who, by the way, took the long way home, and blew through every stop sign. Ay ay!

Tap yer toes a clap yer hands.