A group of us from the hostel are going out for the night, it is a weeknight, but that rarely makes a difference. The Oxford is only a couple of blocks from the hostel so we wander down, push open the western style saloon doors and step inside. There are a about 8 of us tonight and the barmaid comes over, helps us put a couple of tables together and gladly takes our orders. Our Spanish is limited, but that's Ok, we get understood. She is great, she is by no means a small woman, but she insists on wearing the tightest clothes. She has a laugh with us and goes off to bring our drinks. They rarely have what we want, always running out of one type of beer or another so it's always a game to find out what we will be drinking.

A couple of guys at the next table have a bottle of rum and ask us to share it. The ritual is that they will poor themselves one, a small one, down it in one, fill it up to the same level and then one of us will do the same. The next shot is a bit larger, the next larger still. We continue this for a bit and he is satisfied that we can drink so we are welcome to their company and their rum! A couple of others have a go too and before long we are having a laugh and communicating with sign language and broken Spanish. We try to make conversation for a while, they are interested in why we are in Mexico and where we are from. We last about 20 minutes, but it is difficult to communicate in pidgin Spanish and we go back to the rest of the group after a hearty 'Salud' (Cheers) and big handshake.

He is white as a sheet, thin and boney, sharp features and must be well into his seventies or eighties.

Later in the evening, about midnight the bar starts to fill up and in come the Mariachi's. There are 2 guys with old guitars, one of them earned a nickname from us. `Death` we call him. He is white as a sheet, thin and boney, sharp features and must be well into his seventies or eighties. He is a nice guy and likes to have a little chat with us every now and again. There is also a guy with a harpsichord. They will play a song for anyone who pays them a few Pesos, and they are good. They sing sad love songs and everyone stops to listen. When not being paid they are sitting down and having a quiet drink.

There are also the two resident prostitutes, large women, well into their forties, almost constantly putting on their make up and sitting quietly, a glass lasting a couple of hours or more, chatting to the Mariachi men and not looking for business. It seems if they get it, fine, if not, fine also. Occasionally an older lonely man will sidle up, sit down and chat to one of them for a while. That's about all I've ever seen, nothing sleazy or offensive. It is the same tonight, nothing doing, but everyone chatting happily, laughing and joking. There is a spirit of camaraderie and togetherness. They are tough people and have almost nothing. Nothing but a spirit to continue against the odds.

We ask for the Cubilete, a dice game that involves smacking the upturned cup down on the table as hard as possible, making the loudest noise possible and then basically lying about what the five dice say underneath. The cup gets passed on until someone states that the last call was in fact a lie. The liar or the caller depending on the honesty of the call takes a drink. It's fun, it's Mexican and it makes a lot of noise!

Sometime after midnight when the beers are going down well, the barmaid comes over and takes orders for our free meal. If we drink a few bottles we will get a starter of tacos and meat and tonight it is a huge leg of turkey in a tomato sauce, we all get stuck in happily, saves going out to a restaurant after all.

...everyone just stares and listens intently...

One of the locals is getting a bit drunk and loud, he is harmless enough, but he wants to come and chat. That's fine but we can see that the barman has his eye on him and is watching carefully. He comes over to the table full of Gringo's drinking Dos Equis, Corona, Sol and other Mexican beers, he asks where we are from and we gladly tell him, but after that basic conversation he is slurring a bit and wants to sit with us. The barman is right onto it and moves him away and then comes back to stand guard over our table. We are well looked after in here.

At about 2am a very large woman in her forties comes in, thick, dark curly hair down past her shoulders. She sits with a group of her friends and they chat away for a while until she signals one the Mariachis over. He starts to play. Again it is a sad love song. She starts to sing, and her sad, strong, perfect voice gives us absolutely no need to translate the words. She is so passionate and so involved in the song. She stirs up the emotion of the song in each one of us in the bar, she has a captive audience no one touches their drinks, everyone just stares and listens intently. When eventually she has finished there is complete silence, seconds of it. Then someone starts to clap and the whole bar is applauding. She starts another song and the reaction is the same. After the place has calmed down a bit I tell her that she was amazing and we find out that she is in fact a professional opera singer. Incredible!

Soon after there is a thud, our drunken friend has fallen back off his chair and hit his head on the ground. The barman comes over to help. Well, actually he comes over and drags the poor guy outside and leaves him propped up against the wall. Someone calls an ambulance while the barman nonchalantly mops up the blood. He has seen this all before. A passer-by looks to be helping him, but then there are angry shouts as the others go outside to help him and they realise that his pockets have had a going through and his wallet is gone! The ambulance comes, bandages up his head and he staggers away, helped by a friend no doubt to wake up with a stonking headache, but quite willing to repeat the whole performance on another night.

The ambulance comes, bandages up his head and he staggers away

The night carries on and about 3 am they lock the doors, not at all interested in throwing anyone out, just not letting anyone else in! We have another drink and get treated to another song by our resident opera singer. After that it is time to leave and get to bed before work the next morning. A late night for a weeknight, but that's the way it works here. Everyone wishes us a good night and smiles and wave at us. Once again I feel honoured that we have been welcomed into a small part of their lives.

The people here work hard and play hard. They have not much to look forward to, they are waiting for the next earthquake, to lose their jobs when next the economy collapses or to get bronchitis as so many do here. Tonight though I got a feeling optimism, pride and strength amongst them. They are a strong and friendly people and in the middle of this sprawling polluted mess outside I have a strong respect for them. I wish them all the best luck they can hope for.

 

©Ian Picken 2004