The Wonders Of Mexico

The Wonders Of Mexico

By Maggie Van Ostrand


mexicanaAh, the wonders of Mexico, they never cease to amaze me. I wonder how the lawn gets watered. The sprinkler is always moved to another area, yet I never see the gardener. Once, I spied a sombrero floating along the top of the wall, but can only assume there was a gardener under it.

I wonder whatever happened to the performer who fell into the orchestra pit at the Degollado Theater during a performance of Ballet Folklorico I was attending a few months ago.

The horse that lives next door was moved last night. He was my neighbor’s mode of transportation and he ran out of grass. How come I never see a Mexican with zits?

Why do they seal stuff in jars so that you can’t open the darned things? By the time you get the aspirin out, your headache is gone.

Why do they sell hot dogs eight to a package, but the hot dog buns come in packages of 10?

Why don’t Americans maintain their cars the way Mexicans do? Incidentally, a good way to meet men is simply to raise the hood of your car and stand over to the side.

Why don’t Lakeside foreigners eat more Mexican food? In my opinion, other foods can equal, but not excel it. My housekeeper, Josefina, could hold her own with the finest chefs of the world. Nothing is too fancy or demanding that she can’t fix it. The meals replicate perfectly the photographs in the cookbook. I used to think no meal was any good unless you could set fire to it before serving.

Josefina can also iron better than anyone I ever saw.

I’m considering a face lift because I’m getting tired of my neck hanging in the soup. Wattles and dewlaps. I’d like to get a body lift but, if you pick the wrong plastic surgeon, you could end up with hair over your arms.

On Josefina’s birthday, Enrique Grande had the Banda de Caramelo (all 17 of them) play love songs to her. She invited me to join her and a few of her amigas. Exactly as described in Village in the Sun, chairs were drawn up in a horizontal row. The only difference between us ladies was that they sat rather stiffly, while I was guilty of displaying a rhythmic foot. None of the other ladies moved a muscle, including facial. One of the little boys in the band saw my bobbing foot, and it made him smile. This created an interesting problem, since his instrument was the tuba and he couldn’t play it while smiling.

Reminded me of the time my mother as a little girl went, with her two sisters, to Central Park in New York City, sat on the brass side of the band shell, and sucked on lemons. Mom said that this made the musicians salivate and they could no longer play. I love that story. My mom and her siblings, at the ages of 8, 9 and 10, were banned from Central Park. Nowadays, you can pillage and plunder and still not be banned from Central Park.

The greatest wonder of Mexico is not the weather, nor the mountains, nor the waterfalls nor the interest the banks pay, it’s the people. They personify the meaning of the phrase, “pure and simple.”

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