It's cold, I mean really cold. I have three shirts on, including a hoodie. I am also wearing gloves (with the fingers cut off) and have my hood pulled way over my head. I can see my breath. The weather just got like this a day and a half ago. It's as if Mexico had to prove itself to me. "See Mel, I can be just as frigid and unwelcoming as your country. So ha!" Well, only the weather is frigid and unwelcoming. The rest of the country is still quite nice.
Anyway, the reason I am risking finger frost bite to write tonight is because I have to digitally immortalize the proceedings of the New Year's party I attended.
In Mexico, there is a tradition that every New Year's Eve, people burn effigies of old men. The scarecrow-like dolls are stuffed with fireworks, and meant to represent the old year. Erick's family wanted a good muñeco, so Erick volunteered to only "old man" mask he had in his possession: a rubber George W. Bush face.
Erick and his cousin worked for several hours on el viejito, including a good bit of time dedicated to hunting down good wood shavings for the stuffing and fireworks for emphasis. We finished stuffing Georgie around 7pm. Then we ran some errands, and got ready for NYE dinner.
Another big tradition in Mexico is to prepare a large family meal to be eaten right around midnight. I thought it best to save the food for after midnight, since eating would help alleviate the anti-climactic feeling that always casts a shadow over New Year's. But Erick's aunt was hungry, so we dug in to our seafood feast around 11:15. I enjoyed three kinds of fish, shrimp, and soup until 11:45 (we bought almost everything from the frozen foods section of Sam's Club). Then, we headed outside to burn the man.
We started by pouring gasoline all over George's pants. "Sorry we're burning your president," someone from the family called out. "Oh, believe me, I don't mind!" I thought. To Erick's fam, the man could have had anyone's face... Jack Lemon's would have worked just as well for their purposes.
The gasoline caught quickly, and ignited a couple fireworks right away. Then, there was a long period of slow, painful burning in which all the cloth and wood slowly turned to ash. Finally, the big fireworks caught and explosions rung out into the Tehuacan night. Other families all over the city were doing the same, and standing out in the cool night air, I was able to imagine for just a second what it would be like to live near a firing range. A family down the street must have stuffed at least $100 worth of fireworks in their muñeco, which is crazy considering how cheap fireworks are in Mexico. (They're illegal too, but that doesn't stop the stores from selling them.)
Watching George explode was fantastic. I couldn't think of a better way to welcome the new year. Because the mask was made of rubber, his face stuck around much longer than his body. Watching it contort and dissolve under the heat of the flames was comical, yet satisfying.
When I told my mom about burning George Bush and being so pleased about it, she jokingly hushed me, saying, "The government is gonna arrest us for talking like this!" She was on her cell phone and I was calling from an international pay phone. The sad odds are, our conversation probably wasn't private. But seriously, I can't be the only American gal burning an effigy of the president for pleasure.My fingers are thoroughly numbed, and I am starting to lose feeling in my feet. It's time to find a warmer spot, and maybe a hot chocolate, and pass the next two hours until I can check in for my flight. Then, I will be allowed to cross into the forbidden land beyond the security desks where it is warm and the benches don't have arm rests (which means I can lay down).
