Things I learned in Mexico

1. If the Atlanta airport loses your luggage, as they so often do, do not panic. Luckily for us all, Wal-Mart has penetrated even the most beautiful of locations. Once there, you will find an excellent Mexican Wal-Mart swimsuit, some perfectly serviceable Mexican Wal-Mart toiletries, and a most excellent Mexican Wal-Mart skort. Upon your return from Mexican Wal-Mart, your luggage will arrive.

2. It is helpful if you try to learn at least some phrases in Spanish before traveling to Mexico. For instance:

What time is it?

Where are we?

What is this I'm eating?

All those would have been helpful phrases for me to learn. However, my Sesame Street Spanish of Ola!, Gracias, Agua and Por Favor got me much farther than I would have anticipated.

3. For your information, the letter X is pronounced as a SH sound in the Mayan language. I tell you this so that you can avoid the embarassment that followed me pronouncing Xcaret and Xel-Ha as Excarrot and Excelha.

4. The Mayans still exist today, which I totally did not know, having assumed that, like the Aztecs, they were largely wiped out. Not so! In fact, they still comprise a large portion of the population in the Riviera Maya, where we stayed; over 10% of the population of Mexico is Mayan, and does not speak Spanish. (There is no joke in this one; I just found it extremely interesting.) On a side note, though, Mayan tour guides do enjoy making perhaps too many human sacrifice jokes.

5. They do not have squirrels in Mexico, but rather iguanas, wild pigs, feral cats, and some animal that we couldn't actually identify, but insisted on calling a Badgerito, which I'm sure is highly offensive, but which we found unendingly funny. They also have this weird half midget-deer, half-gopher thing that was weirdly ominous.

6. The movie Blue Lagoon was filmed in the previously mentioned Xel-ha; however, do not hold that against it, as it is probably the most beautiful place I've ever seen. Also, it has several all-you-can-eat buffets, which is definitely a bonus.

7. In all, Mexico-- specifically the Riviera Maya-- is about the greatest, most romantic place you can ever go for your honeymoon; its only real downfall is that it is, in fact, so spectacular that it makes the prospect of going to work tomorrow make me throw up a little in my mouth.

Pictures to follow tomorrow as soon as Blogger ceases its broken-ness!

Two ways to end a pity party

I was having one of those shitty days, which I have about once a month or so (or, for about a six-month period while I was in graduate school), during which I feel that no one likes me at all, and that my disappearance would have about as much effect on the world as the cancellation of "Family Matters" (which, I'm sure, at least a couple of you assumed was still on).

I don't really know what prompts these days, but I do know that a friend once told me (during my six-month bout with extreme self-perceived unpopularity) "If we were to organize a weekly 'We Love Kim Shable' party, you would wonder why we weren't throwing them twice weekly."

Rereading that, I don't know if I should have held on to that particular statement as long as I have.

All I know is, I was feeling totally unpopular and nobodyish, until I got home and two things happened:

1. My passport arrived two weeks earlier than the earliest they said it would. This makes me feel extremely important, as there are constantly stories on the news about people who applied for their passports in March and still don't have them. Of course, the ultimate irony in all this is that, since the time I ordered my passport back in May, Ben and I have changed our honeymoon plans to go to Mexico, for which I currently don't actually need a passport.

2. While walking the dog, Jeni and I saw a man in the street taking pictures of something with his cell phone. As we approached, we saw a gigantic black bird perched menacingly on the fence of the baseball field-- a buzzard, something I have never actually seen before in real life. We watched it for about five minutes, and were particularly enthralled when it hopped off the fence and began eating a dead squirrel in the road. Once we dropped Che off at the house, I ran back to try to take its picture, but it was already gone.

What does this mean? Is it a sign of some sort? A sign that I shouldn't be so down, because at least I get to sit on my couch eating Cheez-Its instead of scavenging for carrion? All I know is, it's a lot harder to feel bad about yourself when there's a three foot tall raptor hanging out outside your house.