Sunday, July 08, 2007
An Expat Independence Day
The 4th of July turned out to be another one of those San Miguel days of weird and wonderful juxtapositions. Frankly, as guests in another county, our inclination was to treat the day as any other -- answer e-mails, hit the mercado, drink some margaritas, etc. But our friends the Hardys invited us to be their guests at "one of the biggest and best parties of the year" in San Miguel. How could we say no? So we pulled on our very best jeans and headed up the hill.
The party was hosted by three friends, long-term residents who originally hailed from New Orleans. Their home? A huge, multi-level pink mansion with awesome views, lush landscaping and stunning artwork. Their guests? Genteel older folks, mostly. The guys in crisply pressed slacks, button-down shirts and in many cases, sport coats. The women decked out in red, white & blue finery. It was as if we'd stepped into a country club picnic held perhaps at Ronald Coleman's place in Bel-Air. For the first time ever in San Miguel, our jeans didn't get it. We expected George and Barbara Bush to come waltzing in any second.
Thankfully, the hosts were extremely gracious and the bar was extremely well-stocked. We loaded up on falling-off-the-bone ribs, smoked brisket, barbeque beans and blackberry cobbler and for the next couple of hours rubbernecked our way around the place. "Oh wow! "Holy shit!" "Did you see their shower?!" Embarrassing, yeah? Well the truth is, if you're the raisin in the rice pudding, no amount of alcohol is gonna change that. So, at our friend Tuli's suggestion, we changed venues... and headed down to the grand opening of her friend's new sex shop.
Need I say it, this event attracted an entirely different crowd. Lots of bold cleavage, a fair amount of leather, assorted tats, piercings, etc... And the food? Think sausages with a couple of meatballs attached to their bases, and cream cheese vulvas with clitoral capers. Here we knew a few people, including an artist who specializes in vagina art. But after buying some fresh incense and a few glittery party masks (don't ask), we decided to call it a night. Walking home, we once again marveled at this diverse and endlessly unpredictable place we now call home.
Yes we're in Mexico. But if he'd hung out with us this particular 4th of July, and seen all the wacky, creative, independent, freedom-seeking individuals we encountered, I think Thomas Jefferson would have been laughing his as off.
The party was hosted by three friends, long-term residents who originally hailed from New Orleans. Their home? A huge, multi-level pink mansion with awesome views, lush landscaping and stunning artwork. Their guests? Genteel older folks, mostly. The guys in crisply pressed slacks, button-down shirts and in many cases, sport coats. The women decked out in red, white & blue finery. It was as if we'd stepped into a country club picnic held perhaps at Ronald Coleman's place in Bel-Air. For the first time ever in San Miguel, our jeans didn't get it. We expected George and Barbara Bush to come waltzing in any second.
Thankfully, the hosts were extremely gracious and the bar was extremely well-stocked. We loaded up on falling-off-the-bone ribs, smoked brisket, barbeque beans and blackberry cobbler and for the next couple of hours rubbernecked our way around the place. "Oh wow! "Holy shit!" "Did you see their shower?!" Embarrassing, yeah? Well the truth is, if you're the raisin in the rice pudding, no amount of alcohol is gonna change that. So, at our friend Tuli's suggestion, we changed venues... and headed down to the grand opening of her friend's new sex shop.
Need I say it, this event attracted an entirely different crowd. Lots of bold cleavage, a fair amount of leather, assorted tats, piercings, etc... And the food? Think sausages with a couple of meatballs attached to their bases, and cream cheese vulvas with clitoral capers. Here we knew a few people, including an artist who specializes in vagina art. But after buying some fresh incense and a few glittery party masks (don't ask), we decided to call it a night. Walking home, we once again marveled at this diverse and endlessly unpredictable place we now call home.
Yes we're in Mexico. But if he'd hung out with us this particular 4th of July, and seen all the wacky, creative, independent, freedom-seeking individuals we encountered, I think Thomas Jefferson would have been laughing his as off.
# posted by goots @ 5:14 PM 
