Dia del Cartero

So here's a weird Mexico thing.  Apparently tomorrow is "mail carrier day" and I'm supposed to give mine a tip in this conveniently provided envelope:

I like how the cartoon mail lady is both busty and has anime eyes.  Just like my actual mail lady!  Or not.

I had to ask my friends how much to give.  I don't want to give her anything because there are still 3 packages out in never land sent by my mom, my mother in law and a friend which have never arrived.  But I assume if I don't tip, nothing will ever show up in our mailbox again.

So, in goes $200 (pesos, about US$15) and as my friend Arti told me "you have to give more again at Christmas."  El sigh.

Conejo

Everywhere I've lived people have a different way of saying "excuse me, would you repeat that?"
Americans say: what?
Brits say: pardon?
Australians say: hey?
Mexicans say: como?  Which means "how" and was very confusing to me for a long time.

My muchacha Cecilia (I am told that is the preferred term over "maid", and I still harbor mad American guilt about having live-in help) is missing the tip of the middle finger on her left hand.  Like fully below the nail including most of the first knuckle.  Oooooh, have I been curious.  What? Where? How?  But of course I would *never* ask.

That's why I have kids.

Last week at dinner Jack (finally) asked "donde esta el dedo?" - "Where is your finger?" And he actually grabbed her hand and touched The Finger.  To be two.

Ceci didn't bat an eyelash and just launched right into the story.  Now my Spanish is not great, but I clearly heard "baby", "9 months", "bite" and "conejo" - rabbit.

Como?!?!

With that explanation the kids were done and back to eating dinner.  Not me.  I made her repeat the word conejo multiple times.  She also put her pointer fingers to the sides of her forehead ala 'ears' once when saying it, so I repeated "torro?" (bull) and she said, again, no - conejo.  Como?!?  Where was her mother?!?!  This, I say as  "Tu mama?" while pantomiming with the back of one hand against my forehead and using the other to fan my face.  That's the international symbol for stress and concern, right?

"My mama wasn't there" she says very plainly.  And then she shows with her hands that she just crawled off, encountered a rabbit, and it bit off her finger tip.

Maybe life as my maid ain't so bad after all.

Guess what bit me?

It's rainy season here in DF.  Yesterday morning was the first in days where the sun was out, so I took advantage and went on a nice run in my neighborhood.  

Seems the local insects had the same idea.

I remember thinking "hm, lots of bugs today" 

Some time later I felt my temple and it was swollen.  Hm.

Then it kept swelling.  

And swelling more.

I started to panic at around 4:00, at which time I text Jason.  He says "don't panic, I'm coming home."  Panic.

Luckily through a regimen of allergy pills, cortisone and ice it seems to be going down. 

(Note increased looks of "trying not to freak" on my face)

So, hey, what do you think bit me?

Banamex, you suck

Mexico makes me insane some times.

My local bank (Banamex, aka, Citibank) won't allow me to make ONLINE payments today.  Because today is a holiday.  Even when I change the pay-on-date to some time in the future, it gives me an error.  Because *today* is a holiday their website (website!!) won't accept payment instructions.  AAARRRRGGGHHHHH.

This has happened to me before.  The calm, rational solution is just to log on tomorrow and make the payments. Which of course I will do.  Fortunately for me, this country is not too hung up on receiving payments in a timely manner.

Case in point:  when we first arrived in Mexico City, we received a bill from CFE.  The Comisión Federal de Electricidad    I enjoy having electricity in my home, so I was wont to pay said bill.

First attempt:  Banamex.  Fail.  They do not allow payments to be made via their bill-pay service to this particular nation-wide public utility provider.  Deep, calming breaths.

Second attempt: I was able to translate a way to make payments via the CFE website.  I got far enough into the process to where I had to enter the account number as it appeared on  my bill.  Fail.  That account number was not accepted.

Third attempt:  The bill also says payments can be made at certain stores, in particular, WalMart.  We just happened to be going to WalMart that week so I tucked the bill in my purse and readied myself for that process.  This time I had Cecilia with me and after check out I asked her where I could pay the bill, thinking there would be some counter or machine or something.  Surprise!  You pay at a register.  So we got back in the long line, with a cart full of groceries, 2 toddlers and a grumpy husband off to McDonalds to kill time, and waited to pay the bill.  It was finally our turn, five minutes of the cashier *manually* entering all sorts of numbers from the bill and then the cocked-head look I am now so accustomed to.  The bill.  It was due the day before.  We were one day late.  I was prepared to pay any necessary fine.  But nope!  Because it was past due, they would not accept payment.  At all.  I was told to wait until the next month and (obviously) expect the bill to include the prior months charge.  So ALL of that for naught.

Of course I waited, the next bill was double, but there were no fines.  No penalties.  Nothing.  Why does anyone pay any bill on time?  What's the impetus?  Whatever.  I sent Ceci to one of the local stores listed on the bill and just had her pay it for me.

Mexico!

Parks in D.F.

Think of the most dangerous park equipment you can imagine. Now age it about 30 years. Cover it in grime. Yes, the surely lead-based paint is chipping. Put all that equipment on a bed of small rocks (or concrete), add a few stray dogs and you've got it!

The parks in Mexico City are colorful, filthy, dangerous, mostly ancient, and wild. I'm sure not a one would pass code in the US. Know who doesn't care? Kids. Luckily Ellie is old enough to climb fairly well and Jack is (crazy?) brave enough to give anything a chance.

Let's take a tour.

First up, one of two local playgrounds walking distance from our home. This is the first one we discovered with the kids. It ticks the boxes: colorful, dirty, old, and dangerous. All right!

This park is no big deal for Mr. Incredible!

It's located in some random spot along a lovely path with really nothing else around.


Who wants to play "interpret the graffiti"?

"I am Dioina.  All the kids..."  That's all I can do.

Next is our second local, ahem, "park" that we discovered walking to the kids' new school.   Jason un-ironically refers to it as Parque Peligroso.

Located in a large green-ish space with trees, a dusty soccer pitch, a cracked cement basketball/soccer (?) court, a permanent tent for the homeless, and three (3!) dusty rock-filled play areas, parque peligroso has teeter totters (when was the last time you saw one of those?) that are practically vertical, slides older than time, random climbing structures and "swings." Sorry for the over-use of the quotes, but it's difficult for me to describe these things using their proper names.  Photos!

Random climbing structures,  spinning globe of injury, ancient slide, teeter totters.  What better?!?

 

 

Let's see: solid metal seat, rusted chains, graffiti.  Why not?

A solid metal pommel horse at a park?  Why not.

Jack just loves playing in the dirty rocks

"I wanna pet the perros!" (think there are at least 3 strays on that little hill), and the permanent homeless tent is off to the right.

Here is the mother of all dangers: a park in the middle of a narrow cement sidewalk placed between two busy streets. We have to go out of our way to avoid this one because Jack cannot reach any of the "ladders" but insists on trying.

See the tube structure in the middle?  It's much steeper than it looks.  Both kids get stuck.

Here is a random playground in Chapultepec Park.  Danger!

Hey, how you doing random pointy metal piece right under Ellie's foot?

Despite (because of?) the obvious danger, Ellie did not want to leave.

We'll end with a positive: Parque Lincoln.  Located in the chic Polanco neighborhood it's bright, mostly clean, and semi-modern. We need to take a cab to get there but it's worth it. Jack literally shit his (diaper) pants the first time he visited and refused to leave. Don't worry, it still has its required element of danger. I won't bring the kids alone, one would surely get hurt. One adult per kid.

This massive structure IS the park.  It is completely connected so if a small child runs up the ramp on the "kiddie" part, he will, before Mom can find him chasing along on the ground, be at the top of some of the steepest slides and random openings.  Good times!  

I read an article in the WSJ a few weeks back about how parks in the US have become too safe, and now kids are not taking any chances, learning to conquer fears, etc. #firstworldproblem
At least I don't have to worry about that.