Rain, Rain, Go Away

They weren't kidding when they called it "Rainy Season." It has been raining everyday this week, with no signs of stopping before my departure date. Everything from drizzle to downpour has fallen on my head.

On Saturday, the rain greeted me as I stepped out the door to meet Kelsey for a night of comidas. I hailed a cab to her house, but managed to get soaked as a I was jumping out of the taxi and onto her doorstep. We waited a while, but the rain showed no signs of stopping, so we made our way to Mallary's for a promised cook-out. The steep streets turned into waterfalls. My shoes in one hand, an umbrella in another, I splish-splashed over to Calle Pila Seca for... a surprise. Mallary picked us up outside, and we climbed up a wide, white staircase into a modern fourth-floor apartment, where a gringo crowd had gathered. We walked in on a lively game of charades, a game so American, that a large blonde man named Fox was offended at the suggestion of playing it in Spanish. A Santa-Claus-like man brought me a towel to dry off my feer and offered us beer. I felt bad for refusing hospitality, but I don't like beer. We left as soon as Noe arrived, with stomachs in want of food, and ears in want of music.

We took a cab to our next destination: Conchita's house. Her daughter had just graduated junior high, so the family was celebrating- and we were too. The taxi dropped us off outside of the Mega, on the outskirts of SMA, in front of a darkred, barn-like structure. "Estas seguro que esta aqui?" I asked Noe, who led the expedition. "Are you sure we're at the right place?" Noe led us around the building, through the mud, in the rain. I raised my feet up... and slid back down. Thankfully, Conchita emerged, happily waving us over from atop the mini-hill. A few girls passed us on the way up, so I became determined, climbing up and praying that I would not bust my butt. Soon, a wooden table with a huge two-level tres leches cake came into view. Conchita explained that they did not have keys to the red house, so the dinner was outside - rain and all. If we needed to, we could use the outhouse.

She fed us salad, rice, and tortillas (had to refuse the chicken), as well as a chicken corn soup with oregano. Neighbors and friends stopped in and out, and Conchita kept bringing out limitless styrofoam trays with the afore-described meal. Ana Maria, who also works for CASA, also came. She spoke with sadness about having worked for CASA for 20 years (anniversary: April 26), in nearly every program, and the lack of recognition she received for her work. So, I decided we will buy her a cake in behalf of the CASA interns, and throw a mini-surprise party on Friday. (Kelsey and I went to three pastelerias today, and we chose the one that let us sample the cake :) ).

Then, Ana's husband, Jose, came, and the tequila bottles opened up. You would think this means people got crazy, but not at all - I guess tequila to Mexicans is what wine is to Italians. People have a bit with dinner, and life goes on as usual. (The teenagers are a different story, but isn't that always the case?)

Jose, a taxi driver, was glad for the opportunity to practice English, as he had with some of his clients. Not that we let him - Kelsey and I were set on mejorar-ing our Spanish skills. He was very gentle with Ana, and also very funny. He shared his favorite music artists - Guns and Roses, Poison and Nirvana, and we all agreed that the Beatles rock.

Jose and Ana spoke about the two years they spent apart while he was in America. She was at home with a sick baby, and he said his heart got crushed anytime he passed a park or a playground. True, he had cousins and uncles in the US, but they had their own families there - the American dream was not worth the reality he was missing out on at home. He then agreed to let me interview him for my immigration thesis. I currently have a rough questionnaire with which I have been bothering the promotores (many of whom have also been to the US and all of whom have family there), but I think this will be much more indepth. I am very excited.

We left around 11, just as the rain started - and continued through the night.

I woke up to find that I no longer had electricity. Nor did I have my phone. Apparently, I had left it the night before with Kelsey and Noe. In need of Dona Lourdes, I took a walk over to Kelsey's, where she treated me to breakfast. On my way back, the sun finally came out, and I decided that this was a sign - I was to be outside. I got home and spoke with Dona Lourdes, who first suggested that we shouldnt worry, someone was sure to call the electricity office. But you misunderstand, I explained, that someone was me. Dona Lou knew better - emergency calls are ignored on Sundays in a Catholic country. No one picked up the phone. She then attempted to bring over an extension cord, but nothing worked. Apparently, the rain knocked out the street post. We had nothing to do but wait.

So, I decided to make the best of it. I shaved, put on a bathing suit and a sundress, grabbed a towel and a notebook, and climbed to the roof... to meet the clouds. Almost as soon as I settled down, the rain began again. No! I retreated to my dark appartment, lightless and SKYPE-less. And I had planned to have Shelley, the intern coordinator, over for dinner!

Thankfully, Shelley did not mind having dinner elsewhere. She picked me up with Grace, her daughter, and another friend, with whom she had gone hiking. We drove by Kelsey's to get her, and then headed over to Tacos Felix, a few blocks from my house. Only open on the weekends, the place was amazing. The best wait staff, the garden-like atmosphere, the taco appetizers and shrimp salad and two teas, all for $7... Mexico, I tell you, Meh, hee, co.

After dinner, we went to Kelsey's, where we destroyed the flan that Jose Luis and Salustia helped prepare on Friday. We had tea back on my roof - the lights were back on, bless Dona Lou! - watching the amazing skyline. The rain started again, so we headed to the kitchen, where we talked about God and religion and what it really means to be Christian, to love your God and your brother. "I feel closest to God when I am not wasteful, when I use just what I need," Kelsey said, and I shared that I had been reading the lifestyles of Jesus' disciples in the book of Acts, who shared everything among each other, and are even described as having one soul. Not very capitalistic of us, eh?

Kelsey said good-night, and I spent the rest of the evening talking to Jamal, thirsty to hear his voice. God bless SKYPE. And electricity. But most of all, God bless plumbing. I have never felt so spoiled and privileged in my life.