I Dial It in and Tune the Station

"They talk about the U.S. inflation
I understand just a little
No comprende, it's a riddle."

[Originally written 2008-11-20.]

Inside again, dry and dressed, I'm watching in awe the Vaudevillian cabaret that is Mexican soap operas: impossibly attractive women hang out with, in order of appearance (and absurdity):

• A man who looks like George Michael in his Wham! days. From what I can comprende of their Español, he is eloping via bus and his paramour is reflecting on the time he stopped her wedding while dressed in exactly his same outfit. He then reminisces about how he was almost seduced by a busty redhead, but evaded her by removing his socks. Hilarious!
• A man puts his index fingers in a wine bottle. It gets stuck! Imagine that! He cannot remove it, much to everyone's shock and embarrassment. Hilarious!
• A woman in a hospital answer the phone for a patient. She holds the phone up to his ear, for he cannot do it himself: he is wrapped head to toe in bandages and both of his arms are in traction! Hilarious!

Los Simpson is a woot — they keep the original voices whenever the characters sing Lynyrd Skynyrd.

[The next day. Originally written 2008-11-21.]

I fell asleep almost immediately after turning the TV to The Simpsons. It appears to be about noon local time. I'm not certain because I'm still not 100% on what timezone we're in. I've shaved, showered, and am now wondering what passes for coffee around here and where I can get some. I'm going to hit the beach to see if I can get a better GPS signal.

20° 44' N, 105° 19' W. According to my notes, the sunken city of R'lyeh is over 4,826 miles away and on the other side of a Jalisco mountain range. So much for renting a paddle boat for a day or two. I'm averaging 3 bug bites per 8 hours here, slightly fewer when asleep. Or slightly more; it's hard to keep track of when these things happen.

We walked 2.4 miles up the beach and found a nice little place called Sandrina's where I learned that Café Mexican is hot coffee with straight tequila and Kahlua poured into it. Muy delicioso. The taxi ride back after dinner was 70 pesos.

Now we're back in the hotel room watching Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker punching and kicking their way through El Tiempo es Muy, Muy Rapido. I've learned today that we arrived in the country on Dia de los Revolución, something akin to Independence Day here — fireworks and parades, but nothing that would inconvenience las turistas made its way to us. The walk along the beach at sunset was glorious. I'm sure I'll regret drinking caffeine so late at night, but Mexican TV is not to be missed. At 1 AM, I'm promised an episode of The Sopranos on The Warner Channel. Best of all, no peep of Michigan J. Frog. The bulk of my time today was spent lounging poolside either sunning myself with a good book or napping. There were long stretches of discontinuity where I'd suddenly snap to consciousness and there would be a totally different song on the radio or the sun would be in a different place in the sky. It was tranquil and relaxing, though I must admit it's a little heart-wrenching to watch moms and dads playing with their spawn in the shallow ends of the pool. I wonder if that will ever be me.

Every time they swear in English on TV, the subtitles just say ¡Raynos! I'm pretty sure that's not what that means — especially since it's the only word they're using for a rich variety of complex and sundry expletives.

I think I've slept for something like 15 or 16 hours today in total, just catching up with the day or two of lost sleep and jet lag.

I'm not finding any rare treasures of the beer world here. Not surprising that a resort and the surrounding townage would stock heavy supplies of Corona and Negra Modelo... but I'd like to find something special before I go[0]. I'm just sipping on a can of cerveza and flipping through channels looking for boobs. Women are wrestling each other on an episode of RAW. I wonder if wrestling matches still always pair a good guy against a bad guy. On other channels I can catch Spanish versions of American cinema: Niña Interrupta and Tu Entrar est Muy Prohibido. Nick en Noches is playing all their greats: original-Darren episodes of Hechizada and soon Los Locos Addams, who I insist were not at all crazy, just misunderstood. TCM has Charlie's Angels, classic Jacklyn Smith episodes. Some things are universal. I'm going to settle on an indecipherable History Channel bio on Nikola Tesla. Es muy electricidad.

It's now a quarter to 2 — or 3 — AM local time and the combination of coffee, jet lag, and televised nudity is keeping me wide awake. I'm going to turn the lights off and the fan up and hope for the best. Tonight has been a multi-cultural learning experience, with the added benefit of reminding me of all the times I tried to watch descrambled porn on the TV growing up. The only differences are that now I can drink beer and never worry about my mom interrupting to ask me what I'm doing.

[0] I would later discover that the Corona bottling plant is down the street from the airport and I'd driven by it on the way to the hotel. No wonder it's so plentiful here.