Apparently I'm not the only one with a story about Bill Lika...
http://billlika.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Fake Poland
I have thrown in the rag on Hipster Central and migrated 15 minutes northward to Fake Poland, also known as Greenpoint. And, the lovely Dave has finally become an official New Yorker! His arrival to the city was indeed exciting, but within a few days of living in our teeny railroad apartment that barely fit 1/4 of his belongings (leaving the rest of his stuff in his parents' garage), we realized we had to move.
This means that after spending a long week packing the house Dave lived in for 5 years in Boston, moving some of it to NY (including his cat) and then the rest to his parents, we had to move everything all over again. But before we could even get to the stage of moving, we had to talk this all over with the roommates, find a subletter, find a new place, and then move.
Simultaneously during us making this decision, the hot water at the Bedford apartment wasn't working. It had been on and off for two months even though the landlord, Bill Lika, had supposedly fixed it three times already. So, I got wildly pissed when I came home for a shower and it was ICE COLD, and called him at 1 in the morning, leaving an angry message about how this has been going on for too long and it was not okay and I work nights and should be able to come home from work and take a decent shower. I get a message from him the next morning, about how nothing is broken and we're the only tenants complaining, and I better not call him again outside of business hours and he doesn't want to hear anymore about it. He, of course, ignored my calls later that day, so I left a calm message apologizing for the late hour at which I called but saying that whether the other apartments were having problems or not, we definitely were not getting hot water and I would like to discuss this.
Also happening simultaneously was a ridiculous "fight" with this woman who lives downstairs. She has given us shit since we moved in, asking us to turn our music down even when it's not allowed and saying that we're rude and disrespectful to her because we walk in the apartment wearing our shoes. She honestly said to me that I should never wear shoes in my apartment and should learn to walk more quietly up the stairs and in my house. And also, most of the complaints came between 3 and 9 IN THE PM! First off, it's absurd to make noise complaints in the afternoon (especially on weekends), and secondly, the music was played through an Ipod dock set up on a shelf so she must have been listening closely in order to even hear it, and lastly, all her complaints were made in a horribly snotty tone of voice that very clearly said to us, "How could you jerks ruin my living situation by simply living above me, you assholes!".
Well, we responded to this at first with niceness, then with anger and bitchiness, then by just saying okay to her but only turning it down one notch. Well, she got really mad at us one weekend night at about 8 pm, flipped out that we didn't turn it down within 30 seconds and wrote this ridiculous note about how we are the cause of gentrification, and that the whole complex was happy before we came and we're ruining it (which isn't true because everyone else is friendly to us and we've received ZERO complaints from anyone else). Then, she posts the note on the front door to the whole building!! Crazy lady. And to top it off, she called and reported us to Bill.
The next day, I went and talked to her about this note, asking what we needed to do in order to make her completely happy. And you know what? She stumbled over her words and couldn't come up with anything. She finally said that her main problem is how we speak to her when she complains, so I apologized for that, and then explained that we find her requests outstanding and ridiculous, and that's why we responded in such tones. Then I said that I'd rather she had come to talk with us than post a note about how we're the cause of gentrification on the front door, and she looked downward all sheepishly and grunted. But, I said, I understand that people do and say things we don't mean when we're upset, and that when I responded to her in angry/bitchy tones, it was because I was responding out of the exact same upset space that motivated her to be all passive-aggressive and immature. Just joking! I didn't say that, I was nice, and actually just said that I understand people are mean when they're upset and that I had responded to her in a nasty way before because I was responding out of the same upset space that encouraged her to post the note. I was good and left out any insults.
Anyway, I then said that we think it's absurd she expects to never be able to hear us ever, because we live in New York City and simply walking around is heard below (the kid in the apartment above us woke me regularly at 7 am with loud kids cartoons...that's how it is in nyc!), and that we're allowed to listen to our music. I suggested that maybe we come up with a compromise where during certain hours, no noise, and other hours, no complaints. She told me she wanted to discuss it with her roommate first and then come talk to me about it the next day. I gave her my schedule for the day, thanked her and never saw her again.
So Bill the Landlord of course used this complaint as motivation to further hate me. When days passed and we still had cold water, my roomies and I wrote a letter demanding repairs, and Lizzy called him to inform him of this letter. He then tells her that we are terrible tenants and should just move out, and he'll take our names off the lease and give us full deposit back and everything, he just wants us out. This is GREAT news for me, as Dave and I were moving out anyway, so I was psyched. But the other roomies, not so much.
Both Mark and Lizzy took it really well that we were moving, especially considering all the other stress happening at the same time. They both decided to stay, and we began the hunt for a subletter while also hunting for a new place. After two sketchy realty companies and over a week of looking at places and obsessively checking craigslist, Dave and I found a perfect apartment in Greenpoint, with windows in every room, a big kitchen with exposed brick, a (non-working) brick fireplace in the HUGE living room, a walk-in closet and big bathroom, and all for cheaper than what I paid at Bedford. And then, Mark's girlfriend decided to be my subletter! So the remaining roommates switched things around, thus eliminating a walk-through bedroom, and everyone's happy.
This drama took about 3 weeks to settle down, but now I couldn't be happier. Living with Dave is awesome. We can decorate everything the way we want, leave dirty dishes out all night if we so desire, walk around in undies and play loud music. There's a deli below us so we can be as loud as we want, with zero complaints. And the other tenants are awesome! Young and friendly, almost all of them own dogs. Life is good.
Now I'm back to writing regularly (working on two stories at the moment!), doing yoga and running, working with the girls...I like feeling settled again. And now that I have more free time, I've come up with a few ideas for my blog! First off, I've waited way too long to give updates about my job and the girls, so that will be coming up (but everything's going REALLY well with them). Secondly, I go to shows all the time and really miss writing about music, so I plan to post more reviews and stuff. And lastly, I know my life is incredibly interesting, but I think my blog needs the spice of a bi-monthly survey. I'm going to come up with topics and 3-5 questions per survey, and then ask random people the questions and post their responses. The first survey will be posted next week! The topic: GAS. Get psyched!
P.S. Dave and I are celebrating our one year anniversary tomorrow! Yay us!
This means that after spending a long week packing the house Dave lived in for 5 years in Boston, moving some of it to NY (including his cat) and then the rest to his parents, we had to move everything all over again. But before we could even get to the stage of moving, we had to talk this all over with the roommates, find a subletter, find a new place, and then move.
Simultaneously during us making this decision, the hot water at the Bedford apartment wasn't working. It had been on and off for two months even though the landlord, Bill Lika, had supposedly fixed it three times already. So, I got wildly pissed when I came home for a shower and it was ICE COLD, and called him at 1 in the morning, leaving an angry message about how this has been going on for too long and it was not okay and I work nights and should be able to come home from work and take a decent shower. I get a message from him the next morning, about how nothing is broken and we're the only tenants complaining, and I better not call him again outside of business hours and he doesn't want to hear anymore about it. He, of course, ignored my calls later that day, so I left a calm message apologizing for the late hour at which I called but saying that whether the other apartments were having problems or not, we definitely were not getting hot water and I would like to discuss this.
Also happening simultaneously was a ridiculous "fight" with this woman who lives downstairs. She has given us shit since we moved in, asking us to turn our music down even when it's not allowed and saying that we're rude and disrespectful to her because we walk in the apartment wearing our shoes. She honestly said to me that I should never wear shoes in my apartment and should learn to walk more quietly up the stairs and in my house. And also, most of the complaints came between 3 and 9 IN THE PM! First off, it's absurd to make noise complaints in the afternoon (especially on weekends), and secondly, the music was played through an Ipod dock set up on a shelf so she must have been listening closely in order to even hear it, and lastly, all her complaints were made in a horribly snotty tone of voice that very clearly said to us, "How could you jerks ruin my living situation by simply living above me, you assholes!".
Well, we responded to this at first with niceness, then with anger and bitchiness, then by just saying okay to her but only turning it down one notch. Well, she got really mad at us one weekend night at about 8 pm, flipped out that we didn't turn it down within 30 seconds and wrote this ridiculous note about how we are the cause of gentrification, and that the whole complex was happy before we came and we're ruining it (which isn't true because everyone else is friendly to us and we've received ZERO complaints from anyone else). Then, she posts the note on the front door to the whole building!! Crazy lady. And to top it off, she called and reported us to Bill.
The next day, I went and talked to her about this note, asking what we needed to do in order to make her completely happy. And you know what? She stumbled over her words and couldn't come up with anything. She finally said that her main problem is how we speak to her when she complains, so I apologized for that, and then explained that we find her requests outstanding and ridiculous, and that's why we responded in such tones. Then I said that I'd rather she had come to talk with us than post a note about how we're the cause of gentrification on the front door, and she looked downward all sheepishly and grunted. But, I said, I understand that people do and say things we don't mean when we're upset, and that when I responded to her in angry/bitchy tones, it was because I was responding out of the exact same upset space that motivated her to be all passive-aggressive and immature. Just joking! I didn't say that, I was nice, and actually just said that I understand people are mean when they're upset and that I had responded to her in a nasty way before because I was responding out of the same upset space that encouraged her to post the note. I was good and left out any insults.
Anyway, I then said that we think it's absurd she expects to never be able to hear us ever, because we live in New York City and simply walking around is heard below (the kid in the apartment above us woke me regularly at 7 am with loud kids cartoons...that's how it is in nyc!), and that we're allowed to listen to our music. I suggested that maybe we come up with a compromise where during certain hours, no noise, and other hours, no complaints. She told me she wanted to discuss it with her roommate first and then come talk to me about it the next day. I gave her my schedule for the day, thanked her and never saw her again.
So Bill the Landlord of course used this complaint as motivation to further hate me. When days passed and we still had cold water, my roomies and I wrote a letter demanding repairs, and Lizzy called him to inform him of this letter. He then tells her that we are terrible tenants and should just move out, and he'll take our names off the lease and give us full deposit back and everything, he just wants us out. This is GREAT news for me, as Dave and I were moving out anyway, so I was psyched. But the other roomies, not so much.
Both Mark and Lizzy took it really well that we were moving, especially considering all the other stress happening at the same time. They both decided to stay, and we began the hunt for a subletter while also hunting for a new place. After two sketchy realty companies and over a week of looking at places and obsessively checking craigslist, Dave and I found a perfect apartment in Greenpoint, with windows in every room, a big kitchen with exposed brick, a (non-working) brick fireplace in the HUGE living room, a walk-in closet and big bathroom, and all for cheaper than what I paid at Bedford. And then, Mark's girlfriend decided to be my subletter! So the remaining roommates switched things around, thus eliminating a walk-through bedroom, and everyone's happy.
This drama took about 3 weeks to settle down, but now I couldn't be happier. Living with Dave is awesome. We can decorate everything the way we want, leave dirty dishes out all night if we so desire, walk around in undies and play loud music. There's a deli below us so we can be as loud as we want, with zero complaints. And the other tenants are awesome! Young and friendly, almost all of them own dogs. Life is good.
Now I'm back to writing regularly (working on two stories at the moment!), doing yoga and running, working with the girls...I like feeling settled again. And now that I have more free time, I've come up with a few ideas for my blog! First off, I've waited way too long to give updates about my job and the girls, so that will be coming up (but everything's going REALLY well with them). Secondly, I go to shows all the time and really miss writing about music, so I plan to post more reviews and stuff. And lastly, I know my life is incredibly interesting, but I think my blog needs the spice of a bi-monthly survey. I'm going to come up with topics and 3-5 questions per survey, and then ask random people the questions and post their responses. The first survey will be posted next week! The topic: GAS. Get psyched!
P.S. Dave and I are celebrating our one year anniversary tomorrow! Yay us!
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Hola Ya'll! Part 4: The Rings and Official Engagement, Disparity and Granny
After our crazy night getting electrocuted and posing behind bars in wrestling masks, Dave and I woke up early to catch a bus to Taxco, a town about 3 hours south of Mexico City built in the side of a mountain full of silver mines. The town itself is actually pretty poor because I think most of the silver gets shipped out and then sold for loads of money that doesn't make it back to the original miners. We decided a silver market in Taxco would be the best place to buy our engagement rings, and that seeing a more mountainous, rural area would be a nice break from the Mexico City vibe.
We finally made it around 1 or 2 pm, and wandered all around. This town is literally built in the side of a mountain, meaning walking along the town streets is like hardcore hiking. And the streets have no sidewalks and are barely wide enough for a car, so when two cars try to go opposite directions and you're trying to walk, it gets interesting. We stopped for tequila shots and Coronas at this lovely bar with a balcony overlooking beautiful Taxco, and hailed a salesman to come up and sell Dave a Mexican hat (which looks great on him with the dreads!). Then we walked and walked, just looking around in awe. We went to a market and bought gifts for our friends (and ourselves!) and just couldn't believe how many stands and knick knacks and jewelry there were. Then we made our way to the silver market, which was set up inside a garage surrounded by parked cars. There were at least 50 stands, loaded with rings, necklaces, earrings, everything. We spent an hour excitedly running from stand to stand, picking out rings and trying them on and showing each other and bargaining. Then we found the perfect ones and left, giddy and smiling and excited about life.
We walked in the opposite direction from before, down the mountainside, and ended up in a much poorer area where it smelled like pee and was covered in trash that the stray dogs picked at while they roamed. We asked a group of teenagers where to get a drink, and they pointed us in the direction of a small store front, so we walked in to the "bar" that was actually someone's kitchen. There were three women sitting around a table, smoking and playing cards, who sold us an enormous bottle of Corona from their refrigerator. I asked where the banos were and was directed up the stairs, which led me to an open, outdoor balcony with nothing on it resembling a bathroom or even a drain. But I had to pee soo badly that I decided to just squat behind the dumpster. As I was finishing up, one of the old ladies came up the stairs, pulled her skirt up and squatted beside me! She smiled at my look of utter surprise, shrugged her shoulders and said, "El bano!" Good grief. So I ran downstairs and made Dave go check out the "bathroom." On his way down, he heard sex noises and was like, "Where the hell are we?" Then, he sees a woman poke her head around from underneath the staircase, smile at him, and go back under! Apparently this couple was having sex under the stairs and when they finished and walked to the table with the others, the owner went over there and mopped the floor where they had just balled. Dave and I chugged our beer and ran out of there, and when we emerged, those teenaged boys pointed and laughed at us. Little jerks!!!
After this adventure we were wary to go inside any other establishments, so we walked a little further and ended up finding the real market. Apparently what we saw earlier in awe was actually just the first few streets! And it was this biggest market I've ever seen, ever. It extended for miles, up stairs, into buildings, back outside, around houses and up the mountain... we got totally lost inside the market, which sold everything you'd ever want, from clothes to DVDs to drills and tools to baby diapers to medicine to pinatas to live chickens to vegetables... We were wandering through it at dusk as it was being broken down, and were just amazed at how rapidly it went from this enormous carnival-like market to dirty, empty streets. Truly incredible.
Before we got on our bus home, we stopped at an outdoor restaurant where Dave had the hottest hot sauce of his life and actually turned red and sweaty and cried. I laughed at him while I ate small amounts of the lesser hot sauce. Know your limits!
The next day, we wanted to go on a hike and read about this park in Mexico City with a big mountain and pond and then a picnic/family area at the bottom of the mountain. The city has boroughs like NYC (except there are 13, not five), the biggest one being Districto Federal, or DF, where all the attractions are located. This park was in a different borough called Contreras, so we figured we'd just go to the bus station and take a bus to this borough, as suggested on the park website, and then ask around until we found the park. Well, we made it to the bus stop in a very poor part of southern DF called Tasqueno, and asked someone where the bus to Contreras was. He told us it was on "el otro lado," which means the other side. So we walk all the way to the other side of this huge bus station/parking yard, and ask someone over there once we have looked around a bit on our own. This person says, "Oh, si, el autobus es en el otro lado!" We explain that the guy on the other side said the exact same thing, but this driver very confidently said that the bus was indeed on the other side, but it was really far, at the complete end of the other side. So we walk all the way to the other side again, but can't find it anywhere. Then we think that maybe the end of the other side is around the bus station on the street, so we walk around the station to the street, only to have a driver over there say, "Oh, Contreras? Es en el otro lado!"
Well, this went on for about 2 hours. People tried to help, but really no one knew because everyone responded with, "El otro lado!" And walking around this station was really a disturbing experience. The smell of pee was so overwhelming that we had to breath through our mouths and hold our noses in some parts. Homeless women with their dirty, bored children sat all over the station asking for money. There were enormous piles of trash everywhere and men sleeping beside the piles. There were a few people who were missing their legs, sitting by staircases with their hands out. It was really intense and I felt terrible for just wanting to find this damn bus and get away. I wanted to hand money to everyone and cuddle the kids and give them all food, but I couldn't breathe from the stench and barely had enough money to get us through the trip and the sun was soooo hot. And I was absolutely sick of hearing the phrase, "El otro lado!"
So, we were about to give up because a bus driver shrugged his shoulders and gave us a look like Contreras was in a different world, when someone selling stuff from a nearby stand overheard us and said that he knew exactly where the bus was and gave us directions in English. We followed the directions perfectly, made it to the bus, only for its driver to tell us no no, we actually needed the bus right there! So we walk to that bus and you know what? The driver says, "Oh, es en el otro lado!" We wanted to scream and laugh at the same time. We tried for another 15 minutes or so, and finally plopped down on a curb to consider our options.
After much discussion and some Mexican Coke for sustenance (made with real sugar, no high-fructose corn syrup shit!), we decided to suck it up and pay for an official cab, which was $13 (we were quite low on money at this point in the trip). We get in the cab and the driver has never heard of this park, which was described on the website as very popular and enormous and so progressive that all the boroughs were modeling new parks after it. We ask him if he can just take us to Contreras and drop us off and he says, "Uh, Contreras es muy grande, muy grande." We, clad in our t-shirts, exercise shorts and hiking shoes, give up and tell him to take us to a part of DF called Polonco, which someone at the hotel said was a cool section of town.
It turns out what this woman meant by cool was really expensive, full of American chain stores, and not Mexican at all. It was kind of like Mexico City's version of the Upper East Side, with really expensive boutiques and fancy restaurants. The only dark-skinned Mexicans there were either begging or selling stuff, and the only Mexicans who actually lived there were very fair-skinned wearing suits and high-heels. And the rest of its residents were American or European. The houses were FANCY, the sidewalks and streets completely clean. It was all set up like Paris, with outdoor bistros and sidewalk cafes, complete with the French or Italian food. Now this set up would be okay in Paris or Rome, but in Mexico City? We couldn't find a Mexican restaurant in the entire area, and every place was like, $10 or more a meal. We shared a risotto and Dave got a beer, and it totaled $18. We also met a woman who happened to be from Brooklyn and had a daughter living in Williamsburg, who raved to us all about how cheap the "servants" are in Mexico and how she loves living in Polonco so much because it's clean and all the "riff-raff" stays away and she doesn't have to do anything because all her "servants" will do it for her. We were absolutely shocked. To come here straight from the bus station in Tasquena! We were so overwhelmed by the disparity and the unfairness and by everything we had just seen that we went home and napped. This was not at all how we had planned our day, but in the end we were very thankful for this experience. Though I would never choose to visit those two places again!
When we awoke, we started New Year's Eve with some traditional tequila shots. Then in the middle of it, Dave gets down on one knee and says, "I don't know what the right time is or where the right place is, all I know is that I want to marry you. Will you marry me?" I melted into him and we hugged and hugged, then put on our new rings and became officially engaged.
We were mostly lost in our own little world as we walked through Zona Rosa that night, but highlights from the Eve include:
* the Mexican boy band performing in the square that had attracted a HUGE crowd
* more delicious corn
* the three old men who bought us shots and ranted about their Buddhist philosophies along with their crack addictions (eep!)
* the enormous leaf I found on the sidewalk that was bigger than my face
We caught our flight at 6 in the morning and landed safely in Kentucky at about 2 pm. We shared our news with Mom and Dad, who were overjoyed, then with Granny who said, "Well, I thought you two might go off to Mexico and get married!" I love her.
Later that night, Dave and I had a wonderful dinner with the Grans, and the three of us just hung out, talking, eating and laughing. Dave loved her right away, and she loved him. That woman is one of the most special people in the world. She's so sweet and loving, and so happy to spend time with the two of us. My favorite quote from the night came when she and Dave were talking about religion and how some Christians think the Jewish people aren't following God's orders because they don't believe in Christ. Dave said that the Nazi's weren't following God's orders either, and Granny responded with, "Well, hardly nobody ever follows God's orders!" and then started laughing with the most adorable grin on her face.
Then, after weather-related delays, we made it back to the Big Apple. Our trip had ended and I got an email saying that I had to work from 9 am to 7 pm the next day. Oh, reality...
We finally made it around 1 or 2 pm, and wandered all around. This town is literally built in the side of a mountain, meaning walking along the town streets is like hardcore hiking. And the streets have no sidewalks and are barely wide enough for a car, so when two cars try to go opposite directions and you're trying to walk, it gets interesting. We stopped for tequila shots and Coronas at this lovely bar with a balcony overlooking beautiful Taxco, and hailed a salesman to come up and sell Dave a Mexican hat (which looks great on him with the dreads!). Then we walked and walked, just looking around in awe. We went to a market and bought gifts for our friends (and ourselves!) and just couldn't believe how many stands and knick knacks and jewelry there were. Then we made our way to the silver market, which was set up inside a garage surrounded by parked cars. There were at least 50 stands, loaded with rings, necklaces, earrings, everything. We spent an hour excitedly running from stand to stand, picking out rings and trying them on and showing each other and bargaining. Then we found the perfect ones and left, giddy and smiling and excited about life.
We walked in the opposite direction from before, down the mountainside, and ended up in a much poorer area where it smelled like pee and was covered in trash that the stray dogs picked at while they roamed. We asked a group of teenagers where to get a drink, and they pointed us in the direction of a small store front, so we walked in to the "bar" that was actually someone's kitchen. There were three women sitting around a table, smoking and playing cards, who sold us an enormous bottle of Corona from their refrigerator. I asked where the banos were and was directed up the stairs, which led me to an open, outdoor balcony with nothing on it resembling a bathroom or even a drain. But I had to pee soo badly that I decided to just squat behind the dumpster. As I was finishing up, one of the old ladies came up the stairs, pulled her skirt up and squatted beside me! She smiled at my look of utter surprise, shrugged her shoulders and said, "El bano!" Good grief. So I ran downstairs and made Dave go check out the "bathroom." On his way down, he heard sex noises and was like, "Where the hell are we?" Then, he sees a woman poke her head around from underneath the staircase, smile at him, and go back under! Apparently this couple was having sex under the stairs and when they finished and walked to the table with the others, the owner went over there and mopped the floor where they had just balled. Dave and I chugged our beer and ran out of there, and when we emerged, those teenaged boys pointed and laughed at us. Little jerks!!!
After this adventure we were wary to go inside any other establishments, so we walked a little further and ended up finding the real market. Apparently what we saw earlier in awe was actually just the first few streets! And it was this biggest market I've ever seen, ever. It extended for miles, up stairs, into buildings, back outside, around houses and up the mountain... we got totally lost inside the market, which sold everything you'd ever want, from clothes to DVDs to drills and tools to baby diapers to medicine to pinatas to live chickens to vegetables... We were wandering through it at dusk as it was being broken down, and were just amazed at how rapidly it went from this enormous carnival-like market to dirty, empty streets. Truly incredible.
Before we got on our bus home, we stopped at an outdoor restaurant where Dave had the hottest hot sauce of his life and actually turned red and sweaty and cried. I laughed at him while I ate small amounts of the lesser hot sauce. Know your limits!
The next day, we wanted to go on a hike and read about this park in Mexico City with a big mountain and pond and then a picnic/family area at the bottom of the mountain. The city has boroughs like NYC (except there are 13, not five), the biggest one being Districto Federal, or DF, where all the attractions are located. This park was in a different borough called Contreras, so we figured we'd just go to the bus station and take a bus to this borough, as suggested on the park website, and then ask around until we found the park. Well, we made it to the bus stop in a very poor part of southern DF called Tasqueno, and asked someone where the bus to Contreras was. He told us it was on "el otro lado," which means the other side. So we walk all the way to the other side of this huge bus station/parking yard, and ask someone over there once we have looked around a bit on our own. This person says, "Oh, si, el autobus es en el otro lado!" We explain that the guy on the other side said the exact same thing, but this driver very confidently said that the bus was indeed on the other side, but it was really far, at the complete end of the other side. So we walk all the way to the other side again, but can't find it anywhere. Then we think that maybe the end of the other side is around the bus station on the street, so we walk around the station to the street, only to have a driver over there say, "Oh, Contreras? Es en el otro lado!"
Well, this went on for about 2 hours. People tried to help, but really no one knew because everyone responded with, "El otro lado!" And walking around this station was really a disturbing experience. The smell of pee was so overwhelming that we had to breath through our mouths and hold our noses in some parts. Homeless women with their dirty, bored children sat all over the station asking for money. There were enormous piles of trash everywhere and men sleeping beside the piles. There were a few people who were missing their legs, sitting by staircases with their hands out. It was really intense and I felt terrible for just wanting to find this damn bus and get away. I wanted to hand money to everyone and cuddle the kids and give them all food, but I couldn't breathe from the stench and barely had enough money to get us through the trip and the sun was soooo hot. And I was absolutely sick of hearing the phrase, "El otro lado!"
So, we were about to give up because a bus driver shrugged his shoulders and gave us a look like Contreras was in a different world, when someone selling stuff from a nearby stand overheard us and said that he knew exactly where the bus was and gave us directions in English. We followed the directions perfectly, made it to the bus, only for its driver to tell us no no, we actually needed the bus right there! So we walk to that bus and you know what? The driver says, "Oh, es en el otro lado!" We wanted to scream and laugh at the same time. We tried for another 15 minutes or so, and finally plopped down on a curb to consider our options.
After much discussion and some Mexican Coke for sustenance (made with real sugar, no high-fructose corn syrup shit!), we decided to suck it up and pay for an official cab, which was $13 (we were quite low on money at this point in the trip). We get in the cab and the driver has never heard of this park, which was described on the website as very popular and enormous and so progressive that all the boroughs were modeling new parks after it. We ask him if he can just take us to Contreras and drop us off and he says, "Uh, Contreras es muy grande, muy grande." We, clad in our t-shirts, exercise shorts and hiking shoes, give up and tell him to take us to a part of DF called Polonco, which someone at the hotel said was a cool section of town.
It turns out what this woman meant by cool was really expensive, full of American chain stores, and not Mexican at all. It was kind of like Mexico City's version of the Upper East Side, with really expensive boutiques and fancy restaurants. The only dark-skinned Mexicans there were either begging or selling stuff, and the only Mexicans who actually lived there were very fair-skinned wearing suits and high-heels. And the rest of its residents were American or European. The houses were FANCY, the sidewalks and streets completely clean. It was all set up like Paris, with outdoor bistros and sidewalk cafes, complete with the French or Italian food. Now this set up would be okay in Paris or Rome, but in Mexico City? We couldn't find a Mexican restaurant in the entire area, and every place was like, $10 or more a meal. We shared a risotto and Dave got a beer, and it totaled $18. We also met a woman who happened to be from Brooklyn and had a daughter living in Williamsburg, who raved to us all about how cheap the "servants" are in Mexico and how she loves living in Polonco so much because it's clean and all the "riff-raff" stays away and she doesn't have to do anything because all her "servants" will do it for her. We were absolutely shocked. To come here straight from the bus station in Tasquena! We were so overwhelmed by the disparity and the unfairness and by everything we had just seen that we went home and napped. This was not at all how we had planned our day, but in the end we were very thankful for this experience. Though I would never choose to visit those two places again!
When we awoke, we started New Year's Eve with some traditional tequila shots. Then in the middle of it, Dave gets down on one knee and says, "I don't know what the right time is or where the right place is, all I know is that I want to marry you. Will you marry me?" I melted into him and we hugged and hugged, then put on our new rings and became officially engaged.
We were mostly lost in our own little world as we walked through Zona Rosa that night, but highlights from the Eve include:
* the Mexican boy band performing in the square that had attracted a HUGE crowd
* more delicious corn
* the three old men who bought us shots and ranted about their Buddhist philosophies along with their crack addictions (eep!)
* the enormous leaf I found on the sidewalk that was bigger than my face
We caught our flight at 6 in the morning and landed safely in Kentucky at about 2 pm. We shared our news with Mom and Dad, who were overjoyed, then with Granny who said, "Well, I thought you two might go off to Mexico and get married!" I love her.
Later that night, Dave and I had a wonderful dinner with the Grans, and the three of us just hung out, talking, eating and laughing. Dave loved her right away, and she loved him. That woman is one of the most special people in the world. She's so sweet and loving, and so happy to spend time with the two of us. My favorite quote from the night came when she and Dave were talking about religion and how some Christians think the Jewish people aren't following God's orders because they don't believe in Christ. Dave said that the Nazi's weren't following God's orders either, and Granny responded with, "Well, hardly nobody ever follows God's orders!" and then started laughing with the most adorable grin on her face.
Then, after weather-related delays, we made it back to the Big Apple. Our trip had ended and I got an email saying that I had to work from 9 am to 7 pm the next day. Oh, reality...
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