Author: David Diego Rodríguez, Ph.D.

I teach Spanish and I am a standup comedian.

Cariño


Photo by Sasha Kim on Pexels.com

The main difference between Mexicans in the U.S. and Mexico can be summed up in one word: cariño. I didn’t really notice until I went to Mexico with my sons. I guess I had noticed this cariño on previous trips, but I had forgotten all about that affection that Mexicans show one another more openly.

Mexicans in the U.S. are very affectionate, compared to the typical American, but their display of cariño keeps diminishing with each passing year as they assimilate into American culture. I could tell my sons were surprised by all the cariño they endured first hand. They just weren’t used to it!

Well, every time I go to Mexico, I have to get used to it, too. Once a Mexican finds out that you are his or her relative, you are guaranteed to be showered with affection. My cousins kept hugging and kissing my sons, which really embarrassed them. Especially when they also said things like, “My Baby!” My sons really blushed. Every time! After a while they realized that it was useless to try to avoid all this cariño.

Wow! So that’s what I went through on our trips to Mexico when I was younger!

DDR

Pizza


Domino’s pizza

I had some pizza with my sons the other day and I remembered how difficult it was finding food for them to eat in Mexico. It’s not that they don’t have tasty food in Mexico. It’s just that my sons didn’t like Mexican food made by Mexicans that wasn’t like the American Mexican food that we usually eat in Chicago.

We went to Pizza Hut in Celaya and the menu listed many of the same combinations available in the U.S. Of course, they also served pizza with jalapeño peppers. I would have been surprised if they didn’t offer jalapeños.

This is a country that always adds some sort of condiment to whatever food is served. If you sit down to eat, you are expected to put red or green salsa on about everything you eat. So, I was surprised by what I saw at Pizza Hut. People put catsup (in Mexico, it’s hardly ever ketchup) on their pizza. I tried explaining that the sauce on the pizza was made from tomatoes, but everyone said that pizza didn’t taste right without catsup. Well, the surprise was that they actually ate a food item that wasn’t spicy!

DDR

Vicky Cristina Barcelona


España

I have been watching Woody Allen movies for a long time. Once, in the 1970s, we–Vito, Jim, and I–saw four Woody Allen movies for a dollar (Only on the north side!) I remember his earlier, funnier movies, to quote Stardust Memories.

Later, when we lost track of each other, Jim would call us up so we could go out to see his latest Woody Allen movie. Of course, no movie after Annie Hall was as funny for me as his earlier efforts. So, today, I saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona. And it was okay. Certainly not as funny as Annie Hall. I did enjoy the shots of Spain in Barcelona and Oviedo. The movie reminded me of my trip to Spain. I haven’t actually been to Spain, but when I do go, I plan on visiting Barcelona where I know a couple of people. I really will go to Spain someday!

But back to the movie. The plot was easily identifiable as a Woody Allen product of obsessive attention to the minutiae of life. In his typical fashion, he exaggerates details that most normal and sane human beings would overlook. In one scene, Scarlett Johansson apologizes profusely, and I couldn’t help but picture Woody Allen directing her into acting as she did–that is, a Woody Allenesque neurotic tirade complete with the exaggerated hand gestures.

Of course, if Woody looked anything like Scarlett, he would have had a completely different career. The one thing that really bothered me about the movie was the narrator. If you’ve ever taken a writing class, you know that one thing that is drilled into head constantly: Show, don’t tell! Well, the narrator constantly explains the actions that we see on the screen, rather than letting us think about them and contemplate what the characters are thinking about their dilemma.

Okay, the actors were great in this movie, but I guess I was mainly focusing on Woody Allen as the writer and director. For some reason I’m always attracted to his movies even though I don’t think they’re very good. But I will immediately go see the next one that comes out.

DDR

Pemex


Pemex Gas Station

Pemex is the Mexican government-owned petroleum company that is a monopoly. They drill for oil, refine it, and then sell it in their own gas stations. When I drove to Mexico in July, Pemex sold gasoline for the same price as it did in December of 2007, the last time I drove down there. Meanwhile, gas in the U.S. practically doubled. This is about the only case that I can think of in which a government monopoly actually benefited citizens. As soon as I crossed the border, I saved money on gas. If gas in Mexico practically doubled as in the U.S., the Mexican economy would suffer greatly. It has already undergone a significant downturn due to unemployment, the housing crisis, and rising prices in the U.S., thereby causing Mexicans working in the U.S. to send less money home to Mexico. So, I, personally benefited from the fixed prices of gasoline in Mexico by paying less at the pump.

DDR

Sticks and stones


Last weekend, I saw the movie Tropic Thunder with my sons despite the protests against the R-word that was used in the movie. The R-word, for those of you living in a vacuum, is retard. People with mental disabilities do not want the word to come back into use. And I can understand that. I’m not apologizing for the movie, which satirizes Hollywood and its movies, but the movie doesn’t really make fun of people with mental disabilities. It ridicules actors and their over-sized egos when using the R-word.

For as long as I can remember, I have heard the word used as an insult whenever someone did something that’s less than intelligent. When I was growing up in the 1960s, everyone called everyone a retard just out of habit. If someone pushed you: “Hey! Watch it, you retard!” If someone tripped and fell: “Walk much, retard?” Worst of all was if you did something stupid and your name was Rick: “That’s the women’s washroom, Ricky Retardo!” Of course, being called a retard wasn’t as bad as being called a racial or ethnic slur. We were taught: “Sticks and stone may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” But, if someone insults you, you’re still hurt by those words. Lately, the R-word was on course to be replaced by “DUH!” But the R-word is gaining ground on Duh!

DDR