A Friendly Experience

by Vannesa Blanco

             “Yes your going to Mexico.” That’s how Kido surprised her daughter Prema at the Oakland airport. She had no idea she was actually going to go, and in that summer of 2003 both of us and my brother boarded the plane. No adult came with us, which was extremely fun. Lately, when we traveled to Mexico it had just been my brother and I going by ourselves since our parents vacations started later in the summer. On the day Prema was given the outrages surprise she was in utter shock. Her mom even started to cry because she was letting her daughter go somewhere far away, alone, with people she didn’t even know. But knowing Kido now she probably got over it in a day.

Prema and I met in sixth grade. We were both in the same classes, and we both sat next to each other. We naturally became buddies. Once we knew each other better, she invited me to her birthday party. My recollection of that day is freakishly clear because that was the day we became best friends. The day was rainy and murky, and I had been anticipating the end of the school day. The bell rang, I ran past the portables, and met up with Prema. We walked over to the area where kids were picked up. We tried to maintain our balance against the overwhelming crowds. It was Friday and the kids were rowdy. Water started splashing because of the cars trying to pick up their kids, and annoying honks were heard everywhere. Prema had predicted all this ruckus, so we headed to the corner and waited for her mom. Once she arrived to the corner we hopped in, and just like that, I met her mom. She was Kido, the hippest lady around. Its just her, Prema, and her sister Bria. So its girls all the time, therefore it was comfortable in the car.

“So Vannesa what do you like to eat?” Kido asked.

“I like burritos, spicy food, cheesy stuff, Chinese food, and basically anything.” I responded with hunger in my voice. I remember being really hungry that day.

“Nice, as you can see we likes food ourselves,” she said with a southern accent. She was being funny. “So were actually going to have pasta, and sandwiches for dinner. Kind of like a buffet thing. And for dessert cake and ice cream,” she added.

We headed over to Oakland, and parked in a diner type restaurant. Kido left the car by herself. So while inside we talked.

“What’s your mom getting?” I asked. I thought she was going to buy us ice cream.

“I think she’s getting the cake,” Bria responded.

“Cool, what kind of cake?” I said.

“I’m pretty sure its going to be chocolate cake and vanilla frosting,” Prema chimed in.

When Kido returned to the car, I saw this neon pink cake with her favorite character splattered on the top, which was Hello kitty. It started to rain hard, and the car ride got turbulent. We made it to her house. And when I went inside I was bombarded by the balloons and the famous cat, Hello Kitty. We watched movies, played boards games, talk about school, and ate buffet style food. Now this family is all about the food, they have tried everything, so we were kind of eating all types of food.

While Prema finished hugging her mom, and I was telling everyone good-bye. I was extremely pumped up that my friend was going to come. I went over to Prema and we both shrieked, but hers was more subtle. We got our stuff checked by serious blond security guards, and then we headed to the waiting room, where we sat in slippery plastic chairs. We were comparing our tickets to see if we were going to sit together. Sadly we didn’t. Put she was behind me and a cute old lady was next to Prema. So during the whole plane ride she trying to talk to Prema in Spanish. Prema would immediately look over at me and I would tell her what to say. “A donde vas tu?” the lady asked Prema.

Then Prema would intent to say “uhh no ha..blo espanol, sorry.” But the lady wouldn’t understand her and she would keep on asking her questions. The two hours elapsed quickly and we arrived to Zacatecas, a state that both my parents are from, but my mom is from the city of Zacatecas. The place has a European feel, because it still has its traditional buildings, but it is completely lively and modernized. I can only imagine how my friend felt, knowing she was on foreign land. Plus she was anxious for having to practice her Spanish, since all of my relatives were going to jokingly pressure her. So Prema was overwhelmed.

It was night, the golden airport lights made us feel secluded, and the chilly air melted our warmness from inside the plane away. We were bombarded by the bright, fluorescent lights from inside the airport building. Prema , my brother, and I followed the older people and we stood anticipating what papers to show, and what to say. Once we got past the hard stuff we grabbed our luggage, weighed it, and aimed for the green light which lets us go without being inspected. Luckily we got green, and we managed to spot my uncle really fast. A sports jacket, some light blue jeans, and those crows feet for wrinkles around his eyes describes my “Tio Tono.” He checked Prema out, asked me questions to ask her, and the rest of the car ride to the city was silent, with only the sounds of the engine heard. I hated those silent moments. He occasionally asked questions, and he proudly exclaimed to Prema that the best food was Mexican food. Then he would ruin that statement by saying that all Americans ate were hamburgers from McDonald’s and greasy food. Which is not true.

The sun was starting to show its majestic colors of dawn, and the fields were becoming visible. Prema was asking me where we were, and if we were getting close. It was quite special to be a personal tourist guide for that moment, since she was full of wonder.

I was glancing out the window, and was comforted by the familiar sight of the

colorful smothered buildings, traditional architecture, and narrow streets. I saw el Centro, la alameda (a park by our house), and indigenous women setting up their tents filled with handmade jewelry. A shiver of excitement awakened me, I couldn’t wait to go downtown with Prema and show her around.

“Is this the way to your house?” Prema asked. That gave me the opportunity to jokingly tell her how to get home by herself.

“Yes, this is the way to the house, and its on the street called calle del cobre and to get there you always have to go up a really steep street.” As I was telling her we turned the corner and the angled street awaited us. I knew that my uncles car struggled to get up the hill, so he wiggled his stick shift and grunted at the fact that it wouldn’t budge. Squeak, squeak the car went and the noise made me put my head way down. Since it was morning and that was the only noise you could hear.

“Whoa, your house is so gigantic and cute!” She said with awe in her eyes, she was probably amazed because back in the states we had an apartment that still resides with us today. I laughed at what she said and I replied with “Well at least we have a house, and at least its nice.”

We were got out the car, and started to grab our luggage fast because it was cold outside. When suddenly a car swept by really fast,

“Whoa I was just going to pass” exclaimed Prema “good thing this bag kept on falling of my arm.” she reassured me.

I became nervous because the situation reminded me of the time a six year old boy was hit by a speeding car right in front of our house. Our home is on the center of the cement hill, so when a car is coming its not seen at all. I told Prema the story and we quickly went inside the house. Behind the metal front door the twenty plus steps amazed Prema. When we made it to the top the foyer was organized and clean, plants and chairs decorated the room. To the right the kitchen stood, which had been recently renovated to boast new cabinets, appliances, and floors.

My Tia Elva stood in front of the stove. She resides there to take care of my grandpa and maintain the house. As we were walking to the kitchen, she saw us and she put her spatula down.

“Vannesa!, y su amiga!” she belted out, she wrapped her arms around me and started asking me questions about the distinctive guest. “What’s her name?, where is she from? And would she like any hotcakes?”

Yes we both said, and she served us her golden, fluffy hotcakes. That’s how they say pancakes in Mexico. I drizzled the light yellow honey on the cakes, and me and Prema began to talk in English. Suddenly my proud uncle walked in and he started to exclaim “No hablen ingles aqui, no son los Estados Unidos” (Don’t talk English here, we’re not in the United States). When my uncle started saying statements like that it embarrassed me a lot. I would become ashamed for being able to speak English because everyone over there assumed I thought I was better than them. Or that I was being rude for not considering them. Every time I would buy anything most of the people behind the counter would utter “Your not from here right?”

So I took advantage of Prema being there and I told him that I obviously have to talk English to her because she doesn’t understand much. He just laughed and went over to my aunt. I turned to Prema and rolled my eyes to show her he exaggerates a lot. Most of the comments my uncle has said over the years have always been embellished with exaggeration. Like the fact that he thinks all we eat in America is Hamburgers and fries. I swiveled to Prema and asked her if she was ready to go see the room we would be staying in. I placed both our dishes in the sink and paused. I always debate whether I should wash my own dishes or just leave them. My Tia Elva usually forbids us from washing anything because we are guests. But when I’m standing there it feels bad to just leave them there, because it seems disrespectful. I quietly turned the knobs of the faucet, and I began to wash a plate. “No, no alli deja, yo lavo los platos!” my aunt said with compassion. I smiled shyly, and told her the pancakes were really delightful. And Prema smiled at her and said “Gracias…muy ricos.”

When we walked to the rooms we would be staying in I noticed no huge change to them. The walls were the same peach color, the beds had the same style of folding, the same dresser was there and the decorations were the unchanged. A painting of the Virgin Mary hung above the bed, and white sheer curtains covered the window.

“Is this going to be my room?” Prema teasingly asked.

“You know there’s another room through this door” I said “And that’s where you and me will sleep because its away from the door.”

She opened the door, and liked what she saw. There were two beds, a medium sized dresser, and a little dresser between the beds. “I like this room, its shady, and it has a TV.” I agreed with her, that was my second favorite room because of its meaning, this room was my moms when she lived there, and my aunts. So it was special to be able to stay there, since it was a room that always belonged to the girls.

“Lets go through our stuff” I exclaimed. Prema had brought the cutest of things, she had the purse that my aunt bought her, a lot of clothes, and snacks from the states. She also brought one electronic thing would over the summer become a worshiped object.

We spent around and hour just sitting there and talking about her impressions on the house, and the future adventures we were going to have in the next three months. I was telling her how cool it was to have uncles that are truckers because they know a lot of the famous attractions of the city and they know how to get around the entire state. I had completely forgotten to fill her in with all my uncles, aunts, and cousins names and there was a lot of them. So we agreed that the next thing to do was introduce her to everyone, and that was going to be a bit awkward.

Since we were practically up all night in the airport and plane, we took a long nap. Then suddenly I head our front door slam exceedingly hard.

“What the hell was that noise?” I murmured to no one.

I looked over and Prema was in a deep sleep. Then it hit me, that must have been one of my cousins, or maybe everyone was there. I got nervous and groaned at the idea of having to see all my relatives. I knew they were going to throw generic questions, and I was positive they were going to be taken back by the presence of Prema. I jumped out the bed and slipped my feet into some shoes. Since floors there are super cold, and its custom to not walk around the house with bare feet. I went to the mirror and fixed my knotted hair, I looked to my right and the outside was grey, I instantly knew it was around five in the afternoon. Then I maneuvered to my left and peeked outside a window that looks out to the foyer. I stepped back fast because one of my uncles was there. I gained a little courage, opened the door, and said hello to him. “Hey Vannesa, how were your air travels?” and “and how’s your family? School? What grade are you in again?” I answered all his questions and I asked him how he was and his family were. My Tio Juan is actually one of my favorite uncles. He works for the Mexican government, has three kids, and his wife is a lawyer. And they both are extremely tall and in to fitness, and whenever I’m around him his elongated legs intimidate me.

I told my uncle that my best friend came along with me, and my brother to Zacatecas. He was surprised that I was able to bring a friend. He wanted to meet her right away, so he told me to tell her to join us. I assume Prema heard the ruckus because she made her way out to us. My uncle was amazed to see this person that didn’t look like the norm in Mexico.

“So what ethnicities are you?” asked my Tio Juan.

“My mom is Japanese-American and my dad is black,” responded Prema.

And from there I introduced everyone to Prema. My Tia Adriana, Licha, Silviera, Anna, and Marta. Then all my uncles Tio Jesus, Hermando, Gerardo, Juan, and my Grandfather. Along with my millions of cousins. Everyone was astonished with Prema, they all liked talking to her in Spanish and seeing her struggle to answer back. They all liked showing her around Zacatecas and telling her where the best places to see were.

On the same day we arrived in Mexico, we both went out. That’s what’s exuberating about Zacatecas you can go out as a teenager anytime you want and expect to be safe. Every kid becomes independent at a young age, yet the parents are still strict, and concerning. Prema wanted to go downtown to see all the stores. We went down our street, down four more, and boom! The tourist attractions were there. It was a mix of junk/good food stands, indigenous jewelry, music stores, book stores, clothes stores, and on the left side across the huge catholic church the hip, punk kids hung out.

“How do you say money in Spanish?” Prema asked.

“Pesos” I responded, “ Yeah you should get a lot of stuff for your mom and sister, and me of course!” I said as we squeezed by the heavily concentrated crowds. “Grab on to your bag or you’ll get it snatched,” I told her. We made it to the wooden jewelry booths and were dazed by the intricate designs these indigenous women create.

“These bracelets are how much?” Prema asked, “25 pesos o 20 pesos,” the little girl responded. “That’s like two dollars with fifty cents!” I emphasized to Prema. That’s where we made most of our investments, in affordable and beautifully hand crafted trinkets. Usually in the united states jewelry like that costs you around ten dollars or more, so it was obvious that were going to stock up on a lot of stuff. As we slivered through the other stands I got a craving, and I thought of this street food snack that I can eat everyday. We went back up the street, past the backpack vendors, and went inside a ice cream store called La Michocana, I ordered two bags of Doritos chips, drenched with nacho cheese sauce, and topped with a lot of jalapenos. Along with the spicy order I asked for two sweet lemonades, which is the real deal there, no lemon concentrate. I handed Prema the bag and we headed toward a park near by. She of course loved it, and from that day on that snack became the thing to eat.

Days like these were common throughout the whole time there. We varied every week, and did a lot of things around the city. We would get on the bus and go to my uncles house to hang out with my little cousins, or we would just stay at home and watch music videos all day. Of course when you go on vacation you shouldn’t watch that much TV, because that is already done a lot back at home. My uncles would repeat that to me all the time. I was becoming annoyed with everyone.

I honestly struggled from time to time to find something new to do, its wasn’t like we were going to visit the whole state by ourselves. Yet that’s where some parts of the trip were made bitter. Having a fiend like Prema was magnificent, but anyone that spends to much time with the same person can get what a classmate called “friend fatigue.” I just started noticing little thing about her that annoyed me. She responded with a soft toned voice all the time, so when someone would ask her a question, she seemed like she didn’t care of answering. Most of my uncles would ask me why she seem bored or tired, and I had to reassure them that she came off as serious because she of course didn’t feel at home. She barely reacted to fun times so with that I felt like she wasn’t enjoying her time there, like she almost didn’t appreciate what I was doing for her. It was like she was my responsibility, and I had to make her function, and come off as happy through the eyes of my relatives.

My aunt was asking Prema how she was enjoying herself in Mexico and Prema answered with a simple “Oh I’m having a lot of fun.” But it was the way she said it.

Almost no expression or enthusiasm could be heard or seen. Even my aunt felt it. Then she asked me extremely seriously if I was taking her out, if I was showing her around the famous attractions. I responded by nodding my face. I didn’t like that my aunt thought I wasn’t taking her to any good places. They didn’t know how I felt, sometimes I didn’t want to go out, they didn’t know that Prema herself didn’t care if we didn’t go anywhere. We had fun not doing anything. They were making me boil inside.

“Why did you respond like that?” I exclaimed.

“How? What did I do?” she looked at me with confusion.

“Why do you talk so plain and bored, like you don’t care about anything!” I said

We were going back to the house and we had just gotten of the bus.

“That’s just how I talk, what do you want me to be all cheery and cracked out, so that I look completely strung out,” she surprisingly responded.

When she said that she said with such ease like she genuinely didn’t care that I was mad at her. She didn’t consider my feelings, or try to think it through, she just splattered hers right away. The whole situation with my aunt was wearing me out, so I kept talking.

“Well my Tia just assumed that I don’t take you out, and she’s pressuring me to take you everywhere,” I said, “If you could just not be so snobby looking, and bitch like.” I seared at her.

Then she pushed me off the edge with her response, “Whatever Vannesa, I don’t care what you call me, that’s just how I’am.”

I exploded.

I heard her and just kept walking fast and left her to walk home by herself. While walking ahead of her, I felt bad for leaving her behind, but the anger soon took over. I busted into the house and my sister asked what was wrong. She got to Mexico two weeks after we arrived. I kind of told her, but I didn’t get into it, she just had to know I was mad with her. It was awkward when she walked in, she seemed lost and empty. She didn’t know where to place herself. So my sister talked with her and they both left to my grandpas room. I went into our room, and I laid in bed reflecting on what just happened . I realized I had too mean with her lately, I was answering her with attitude, and not including her in conversations when I was speaking in Spanish. I felt so ashamed at myself for not being understanding, and compassionate towards her. I immediately fell asleep.

Immense laughter woke me ( I’m a light sleeper). My sister and Prema were watching a funny movie. I didn’t want to interrupt, but I kind of felt left out. I stumbled in and went over to Prema and hugged her (which was awkward). I told her “I have no patience and I hate being put under pressure by my family, so I’m sorry for exploding.” She just looked at me and said “I don’t know, I guess I’m sorry too.” I knew she was still bothered with me.

Two weeks after the alteration my Tio Tono took Prema, my sister, my brother,

both his sons, his wife, and I to a place called Puerto Vallarta. It is the equivalent to Cancun, but less swarmed in by American college students. While there we practically forgot about our awkward fight. It was soothing to be in a hotel right by the beach. We were all anticipating getting in the cold ocean, since we were in my uncles trailer for hours. The heat got worse when we were passing by the endless humid, green jungles. That completely made us irritated and made us yearn the splashes of any kind of water. However while over there I was alert to how I treated everyone, especially Prema. I had come to the solid conclusion that I couldn’t act like a bitch to anyone. I had to stay composed, and not obsess over the little habits people had, and I had to just enjoy the vacation I was fortunate enough to have. I was particularly thankful for sharing it with my other half, Prema.