Thought of the day vii:

Orale!

"Baila Sali!


Porque no bailas?!"


Maria or Chayo, as we like to call her. Little one. She yells my name.
Even if I am right there in front of her, she commands it, emphasizing the second syllable. 
Four or five couples have taken the floor in a traditional spinning poka. 
Their hats are all alike. Bright colored embroidered coats. Their boots are Ostrich. 
Big-ass belt buckles, flashing Gold chains, Jewelry everywhere. 

And the women are dressed up too. 
Their hair is big and hair-sprayed shut. They are clipped together stiff, skirts tight, but they are agile and quick. Some cling to their partner, for dear life, while he spins her dizzyingly. Others hold loosely and lean out to scold a family member for not dancing. 




I nod politely when they scold me. 
"Si, yo voy, jolito." 


My stomach is still engaged in battle from the incredible homemade Mole, carne asada and rice I wolfed down. I normally don't eat meat, but this stuff was AWESOME.


 I was the only gringa to attend this familial fiesta that took place in the same double-wide all fiestas in this trailer park did. I did not want to spoil the mood by trying too hard, so i hung low and spoke with a few patient, warm-hearted folks at the table. 
I drank too many Coronas. They kept opening more bottles for me, before i even finished them. 
Javier would watch from across the room, ready to pounce on the empty bottle. 
"Otro?"
"No, no gracias. Si tomo mas, voy a bailar, entonces no mas por favor!"


Javier works on the farm too. He is married, has two kids and an ever-undampened spirit.
He laughs at my poor spanish and pops open another beer for me. Oh geese.

I feel sick, but a little brave. I decide to give in. 


Javier and Maria's parents are wonderfully kind to me. The dad entreats me to dance with him and yes, por su puesto, if he doesn't mind going slow. He is in his 50's, works 16 hour days and this is his first day off in two weeks. He is quite drunk, but merry. He laughs and says he will teach me how to dance.
I feel the unmovablely shy, pink smile take over my face. I stare at my feet almost the whole time, trying not to step on his pointy boots. I look up at Chayo to say silently, 
"See what a dork i am?!" 

"Que Valiente!" A woman I had been talking with whispers to me.
She said most white people wouldn't have tried. But I figure, hell, what do i have to lose? I am already the singled-out one. I might as well have no regrets. 
Everyone was good-humored. I left very early, respectively, around 11pm. I had to get up a 4am for the farmer's market.  As did Chayo and Erica (sisters to Javier). They all work on the farm in different capacities. Their family had a farm in Mexico and the kids grew up operating tractors and fixing primitive irrigation systems.


I feel honored that they invited me to a family fiesta. I am learning alot from them these days. 


And that is that.