August 1989

In the 1980s The New Yorker Magazine published a series of articles about Baja, California, Mexico as the party capital of the world. So in August 1989, I decided to take the plunge since I was hired as a teacher in El Centro, CA. Mexicali was both a sensory nightmare and blessing--at night in the clubs. But the first time is always the most memorable. I walked across on the train tracks. I remember seeing the tricolored flag waving in the dusty, sleepy Saturday afternoon. I felt very tall and white and out of place when I had to duck through the curios shops and those electrical wires hanging down dangerously in my cautious mind. Then came the huge buckets on pork frying in hot grease; the smell made me queasy. Young indigenous-looking girls giggled at me and I smiled back as I wiped the sweat from my hair, face, and back. I was an outsider. People spoke to me and expected me to understand them, but I did not. As I got to the cathedral, all of three blocks, I decided to turn back. Suddenly, i was overcome with the smell of leaded gasoline. As I walked back across the tracks, I heard the migra say on his radio, "I got him!!!" That was embarrassing and I felt like a criminal. He told me where the proper place was to cross and left it at that. He sped away in his Bronco to park on the tracks again. This all struck me as stupid, parking on the train tracks, but I didn't stop to tell him so. Later I discovered the clubs in Mexicali: Rock En Espanol, La gran compania, a jazz club, chics, and many more. Those places were a world away from the daytime, where young--thank God--women came out dressed better than Hollywood. After a few drinks, these young women were very willing to talk and share their lives. So not even a gringo can say too many bad things about Mexicali.

Mexicali... what is the point????

discovery draft....

Mexicali.. oh the first time was August 1989. I had never, not even in Spain or the Greek Isles, felt heat--absolute Kelvin heat--as in Aug. 1989. wow. In the words of Seamus Heaney, I was bullied by the sun not of madrid but in Mexicali. I could FEEL the sweat pouring down my face and back. I smelled gasoline--the kind we used to serve in the US in the 70s, leaded, very leaded gas. I smelled and saw the pork boiling in hot oil and grease... because of the heat in the first place, the pots of boiling pork made me feel queasy. An old man was selling lottery tickets on a pole. No one was buying. Another man had a pole but he sold clip on pony tails. Strange to see all these tails handing from poles, all different colors of hair. Was the hair real? Little girls standing in the shade giggled at me as I dodged electrical wires going through the curios shops. They continued to laugh. Was it the first time they had seen a gringo, or a taller one at least? what was so funny? All I could taste was the dust, and with a hot breeze, there was plenty of dust. I walked past the cathedral but then went back towards the border. I really had little sense of direction. I made it about three blocks into Mexico. I walked back to the US following the train tracks. I wanted to be a rebel and frankly did not know better. Tall, blond, and pink at this point: what else would I be but gringo? I heard the migra say, I got him!! on his radio. He drove his Bronco up to me and asked what i was doing. He told me the proper way to cross back on foot....

prewriting: descriptive essay

So what should i describe? I know I need to write a paragraph, with a lead in, topic sentence, details, examples, and a concluding sentence....so what comes to mind to describe??? what are the five senses? oh yeah: sight, hear, touch/feel, smell, and taste.. is that five?

Ideas....

1. describe my room... hmmmmm.

2. my closet.... messy but maybe interesting...

3. my bed or futon.... soft cotton, no wires... good for my back..

4. My first trip to Spain...

5. first trip to Mexicali...