The Mija Chronicles

Mexican food and culture, on both sides of the border

Lesley Tellez

On being a half-foreigner in Mexico

by

The other day, a new friend, Alice, asked me if people often think I’m Mexican. I said yes, but added that it’s not that great because the myth is destroyed as soon as I open my mouth. Once I start talking, most people give me a confused, “Wait… what the hell are you?” kind of look. This happens several times a day.

Ten years ago, I would have hated that look. HATED it. I would’ve gone home, ashamed, and kicked myself for being American and not Mexican, for not knowing Spanish, for being a dumb pocha.

Now that I’m older and a lot more comfortable with my American identity (I’m guessing age has something do to with that), I probably misspoke a little bit to Alice, because being an English-dominant Chicana here bothers me a lot less. Nothing can change the fact that I grew up in the U.S. watching G.I. Joe and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and eating mac n’ cheese and hot dogs, and speaking English my whole life. So why put so much pressure on myself?

To be honest, the confused-look makes me feel kind of unique. Not everyone receives it. Only the 1-out-of-1000 who happen to look like they blend in, but — surprise! — they don’t.

Really, what I’ve been struck by most in living here so far is not feeling like a foreigner, but blending in for the first time. In the Metro, among the sea of brown faces, I’m just another girl walking with her head down, trying to change subway lines as quickly as possible. No one looks twice. In the subway in Boston, the lost Spanish-speaking tourists always flocked to me and asked for directions.

Walking around Mexico City, I’m the only one who knows that I don’t blend in completely. But that’s kinda the secret thrill. Not a burden.

A light Mexican breakfast

by

Anise rolls with fig

Anise rolls, purchased at the tianguis, with homemade balsamic-fig chutney. (What’s in the chutney, you ask? Oh, a little butter, a little balsamic, a little turbinado scented with vanilla.)

Compared to Dallas, figs are insanely cheap here. I bought about seven of them — big, plump, juicy ones — for 15 pesos. In Dallas they’re $10 a pound.

A last name that’s not so unusual anymore

by

Pretty much everywhere I’ve ever lived, people have mangled the pronunciation and spelling of my last name. The one exception was San Antonio, Tex., where some people asked, “Are you related to Coach?”

When I worked in the Dallas suburbs, it was particularly horrible. I’d spell my last name, “T-E-L…” And they’d say, “T-E-O?” Me: “No, L!” Them: “O?” Crayton said I should have been pronouncing “L” as the long, drawn-out Southern “Aayyyll,” instead of my clipped California-style “El.” I refused to do it.

Anyway. No longer do I have to worry about such things:

Tellez watch store 1

Tellez store 2

We got an apartment, maybe

by

It’s the one I posted pictures of most recently — the modern one. We haven’t signed the lease yet so I’m not considering it ours until then. If we do end up getting it, though, we are SOOO getting a grill for the outside terrace. (I’m obsessed.) Seriously though: Can’t you just see me going to the local tianguis and picking up some chicken and carne asada, and tossing it on there with onions and veggies and maybe a tortilla or two? Or better yet: FISH. (Because that’s better for you.)

In other news, we discovered a taco place we liked last night — El Farolito. It’s a chain, but they have all kinds of tacos and salads and sopes. Plus they sell Victoria in cute little bottles called “cuartitos.”

They called us “jóvenes” there. As in, “Algo más jóvenes?”

A TV blessing in Mexico City

by

svu-photo

Just when I started to get depressed about not being able to watch Law & Order SVU — I’m a junkie, it’s sad — guess what popped up in the cable guide. Law & Order U.V.E. — Unidad de Victimas Especiales. Even better, it’s in English with Spanish subtitles! Although Detective Stabler’s pecs only speak one language, if you know what I mean…

Most American shows have subtitles here, actually. My other faves are CSI and The Graham Norton Show. But they’ve also got E! True Hollywood Story, Gossip Girl, the Ghost Whisperer, Dancing with the Stars (the Mark Cuban season), NCIS, In Plain Sight, 90210, Grey’s Anatomy, Desperate Housewives and a bunch of others. Strangely, old reruns of Friends are always on at the gym.

In Spanish we tend to watch Rebelde, which always seems to be on. It’s like the Law & Order of Mexico, with cheaper production values. And it’s set in an elite boarding school and not a New York City Police Department. (Okay, so maybe it’s not like Law & Order at all.) However, since it’s a novela based around teenagers, it’s good for learning slang. We’ve already learned the word “neta,” which seems like it could mean “For real?” or “awesome!” or “Yeah!” or “bottom line.”

My favorite character on Rebelde is Roberta, who’s real name is Dulce Maria. She likes to dye her hair crazy colors.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFfiKkp-BEU&hl=en&fs=1]

Tips on riding the metro in Mexico City

by

Mexico City metro sign

I’ve taken the metro a lot in the past few days, while conducting what I’m now calling The House Search of All House Searches.

(I am so exhausted right now, Crayton isn’t even laughing at my jokes. Is it wrong to try and come up with a joke with the words “guten tag”?)

Anyway, even though the metro is generally hot and crowded, you can’t beat the two-peso (roughly 14-cent) price. There are a few weird things I’ve noticed though…
…

Read More

Saturday night in La Condesa

by

Taxi altar in La Condesa

An altar in front of a taxi stand.

Chile cheetos

Chile-flavored cheetos! Which, legend has it, will actually make you lose weight if you drizzle them with La Valentina hot sauce.

Glow in the dark bracelets

Disneyland-style bracelets. I think I took this picture at like 2 a.m.

Thanks for the party, Pachuca girls.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With:

A few more thoughts on the house hunt

by

Real estate brokers here are really nice. I’ve met four so far, and all of them have urged me to tell them exactly what I want in an apartment. Lots of windows? Kitchen in great condition? No crazy wallpaper and thick lacy curtains? Ok, bueno, good to know.

What I’m most proud of, though, is getting over my fear of calling landlords. I’d been pretty scared to cold-call anyone, convincing myself that they wouldn’t understand me, I’d seem like a dumb American, there’d be horrible gaps of silence where neither of us would know what the other was saying, etc.

Finally I was like: YOU HAVE TO DO THIS. And after two solid days of calling, I have perfected my spiel. I set up appointments and have freaking met brokers, people.

My spiel: “Hola, buenas tardes, estoy llamando sobre el departamento en la Calle X… todavía está disponible?”