So the World Cup has come and gone, and it is once again time for a little housekeeping. First of all I apologize in advance for any misplaced commas, misspellings and other forms of tpyos. My sister, who is my wonderful (and wonderfully free) editor, is on vacation. You can read about her road trip across the country over at daphneseesamerica.blogspot.com. It’s kind of like my blog, only she goes places and sees things, and I sit on my couch and watch TV.
Which brings me to my next point; what will occupy the 4 hours in my day that I spent watching soccer last month? I’d have a tough time selling the LR on the fact that I should just sit on my ass at home all day and watch movies on Netflix streaming. On the other hand, if I tell the LR that I’m starting a feature on my blog called “Reviews of Movies You’ve Already Seen,” well that’s a different kettle of fish entirely. (And now for an extended kettle of fish bird walk because the animal idiom store was having a two for one sale. I find eating fish in the middle of the desert fairly unsettling. There’s no freaking water anywhere, and while I know that when you go to a restaurant and order fish, it’s never ever ever actually from the water in the area, it still somehow seems easier to swallow than when the closest body of water with living things in it is tens of hours away. Although in San Diego, which obviously is right on the water, I found it no less unsettling that they advertised Maine lobster on the menu. You are on the freaking Pacific Ocean, I didn’t come to San Diego for a little taste of Maine. Yes these are in fact the things I think about).
So starting somewhere between immediately and eventually I will be debuting my new blog series. The movies I will pick will be exclusively from Netflix streaming, and other than that will basically have nothing in common. Expect wild veering around, from summer blockbuster, to documentary to tiny indie film and back again. Don’t expect the movies to necessarily have anything to do with Mexico, drugs, gangs, or the desert. Some might, but it will be purely coincidental. I get enough border life as it is, I don’t need to go on a drug mule’s holiday (which would be like a busman’s holiday if the busman was driving drugs illegally into the US from Mexico). It’s possible I will even develop some consistent formula like, having neat little questions in bold face type, or a listy type thing complete with bullet points. Probably though I’ll just drone on and on in paragraph form.
Also, don’t expect me to have any particular expertise on the subject. I like movies, and I like TV, and I know a lot about both, but that’s about as far as it goes. My only credential is that, almost ten years ago when I was a Senior in High School I made a list of movies I wanted to watch and then watched them with friends. Then I went to college, wanted to sound pretentious and told people that I had run a film series. The real point of the list though was to force myself to sit down and watch Gone With the Wind. I still haven’t seen Gone With the Wind. At this point there is only one way on God’s green earth that anybody will make me watch that movie and it involves a certain somebody eating a pizza and another certain somebody reading all 7 Harry Potter novels. I live a complicated existence.
To recap--There is no more World Cup. I’m bored. I’m going to watch movies. I’m going to write about those movies to disguise the fact that I will in fact be doing nothing. One of those movies will not be Gone With the Wind. This will all start sometime.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
16 Down 15 To Go
The group stages are over so it seems like a good time to do a little looking back and a little looking forward. So that’s what I’m going to do, about everything and anything World Cup (except for the U.S. team. I am way way way too emotionally invested in the Yanks to write coherently about them. Besides, by the time you read this they will have either beaten or lost to Ghana, and I will be either elated or crushed. When their run is over I’ll attempt to sum it all up). For now though, let’s look at some story lines.
The Big Four
England, France, Germany and Italy are the only four European nations who have won the World Cup. Half of them are already out, with France imploding in spectacular fashion and Italy giving up more than twice as many goals as it did during its run to the title 4 years ago. But, I suppose that’s bound to happen when you mail in the first 260 of the 270 minutes you play in the group stage. What a last ten minutes it was though, with Italy almost erasing a 2-0, and then 3-1 deficit, only to lose 3-2 when a last second shot dribble harmlessly wide. England and Germany meanwhile play each other in the round of 16. And while before the tournament big things were expected of England, and Germany was thought to be young and untested, that has not held true in the first three matches. Das Boots look much livelier and more dangerous than the lads. But, as always, past performance is no guarantee yadda yadda.
The Other Four
There are four other European teams still alive, and as luck would have it, they play each other as well, with Spain facing off against Portugal, and the Netherlands facing Slovakia. Despite being perennial World Cup under achievers, Spain, Portugal and the Netherlands are all dominant world sides. The Dutch have cruised so far, winning each game in their group in comfortable if not spectacular form, and as their reward they get Slovakia. And while Slovakia did beat Italy, that may say more about the sorry state of the Azzurri than anything else.
And then there's Spain and Portugal. After starting slowly, Spain has looked every inch the potential champion side its last two matches, easily handling Honduras and Chile. Although to be fair Chile played most of the match down to ten men. Portugal meanwhile hasn’t allowed a goal yet. That’s impressive until you consider that they haven’t scored a goal against anybody who doesn’t believe that Kim Jong Ill communicates with little invisible cell phones either. In the best of worlds this will be one of the best match ups of the round of 16 with the unstoppable force of Spain throwing itself against the immovable object of Portugal. In the worst of worlds Spain will kick the ball around for two hours for a 0-0 draw, and then hope to win in penalty kicks.
No, The Other South A.
Somewhere the sporting powers that be apparently made a typo. While South Africa is the host nation, who traditionally doesn’t lose in the group stages, it is actually all of South America that remains uneliminated. While Brazil and Argentina are no surprise, Paraguay, Uruguay and Chile all advanced as well. Not only did TOSA (the other South A) go 5 for 5, but Chile was the only one of the teams to not win its group. As such, they’re penalty is playing Brazil, probably the most dominant looking team in the tournament so far. The other three teams are scattered to the far corners of the bracket though, which allows for the possibility of an all TOSA semi-finals. And while Paraguay is a long shot, first facing a surprisingly game Japan team, and then having to face the winner of the Iberian rumble, Argentina and Uruguay both have every reason to believe they’ll be standing with two matches to go.
The Rest of the Best
I ran out of fingers somewhere in the last section, but my best guess is that I still have five teams I haven’t mentioned. Despite not scoring from the field, Ghana’s two converted penalty kicks were enough to net them a win and a draw and move them on into the knock out stage against the good old U.S. of A. On the Asian front Japan and South Korea both advanced, despite being viewed as also rans when the first ball dropped. They are both technically solid hard working teams and while they are underdogs against Paraguay and Uruguay respectively their draws are about as good as could be hoped for. Then there is Mexico, who has looked pretty good, but has the draw from hell playing first Argentina, and if they upset them, the winner of the Germany-England match. Which leaves the U.S. who I’m not talking about.
A Little Math
Of the 16 teams, 11 have never won the World Cup before. At first glance that seems like a recipe for a wide open result. At second glance though, in 18 previous world cups only 7 teams have ever won the whole thing, and 5 of them are still left. That’s more than in either of the last 2 World Cups, and those ended up with finals consisting of France v Italy and Germany v Brazil, all former winners. Moral of the story, expect the same old teams to emerge as the tournament goes deeper and deeper. It’s entirely possible that half of the final 8 and 3 of the final 4 will be previous winners. The only corner of the bracket that doesn’t have a past champion, has Spain and Portugal, two powerhouses waiting for their first breakthrough.
O.K. I Lied
After its last second heroics the U.S.A. has as good a draw as you could possibly hope for. With Ghana up first, and then the winner of the Uruguay-South Korea match the semi-finals and a possible match up with Brazil is not beyond the realm of possibility. Of course, Ghana comes first and the lone standing Africans are clearly the home team. They are a physically gifted defensive minded team, who look to counter attack in much the same way the Yanks do. The Black Stars are a better team than either Algeria or Slovenia and will not give the U.S. nearly as many scoring chances as those two teams did.
Also, my heart can’t take another ninety minutes of last second heroics.
The Big Four
England, France, Germany and Italy are the only four European nations who have won the World Cup. Half of them are already out, with France imploding in spectacular fashion and Italy giving up more than twice as many goals as it did during its run to the title 4 years ago. But, I suppose that’s bound to happen when you mail in the first 260 of the 270 minutes you play in the group stage. What a last ten minutes it was though, with Italy almost erasing a 2-0, and then 3-1 deficit, only to lose 3-2 when a last second shot dribble harmlessly wide. England and Germany meanwhile play each other in the round of 16. And while before the tournament big things were expected of England, and Germany was thought to be young and untested, that has not held true in the first three matches. Das Boots look much livelier and more dangerous than the lads. But, as always, past performance is no guarantee yadda yadda.
The Other Four
There are four other European teams still alive, and as luck would have it, they play each other as well, with Spain facing off against Portugal, and the Netherlands facing Slovakia. Despite being perennial World Cup under achievers, Spain, Portugal and the Netherlands are all dominant world sides. The Dutch have cruised so far, winning each game in their group in comfortable if not spectacular form, and as their reward they get Slovakia. And while Slovakia did beat Italy, that may say more about the sorry state of the Azzurri than anything else.
And then there's Spain and Portugal. After starting slowly, Spain has looked every inch the potential champion side its last two matches, easily handling Honduras and Chile. Although to be fair Chile played most of the match down to ten men. Portugal meanwhile hasn’t allowed a goal yet. That’s impressive until you consider that they haven’t scored a goal against anybody who doesn’t believe that Kim Jong Ill communicates with little invisible cell phones either. In the best of worlds this will be one of the best match ups of the round of 16 with the unstoppable force of Spain throwing itself against the immovable object of Portugal. In the worst of worlds Spain will kick the ball around for two hours for a 0-0 draw, and then hope to win in penalty kicks.
No, The Other South A.
Somewhere the sporting powers that be apparently made a typo. While South Africa is the host nation, who traditionally doesn’t lose in the group stages, it is actually all of South America that remains uneliminated. While Brazil and Argentina are no surprise, Paraguay, Uruguay and Chile all advanced as well. Not only did TOSA (the other South A) go 5 for 5, but Chile was the only one of the teams to not win its group. As such, they’re penalty is playing Brazil, probably the most dominant looking team in the tournament so far. The other three teams are scattered to the far corners of the bracket though, which allows for the possibility of an all TOSA semi-finals. And while Paraguay is a long shot, first facing a surprisingly game Japan team, and then having to face the winner of the Iberian rumble, Argentina and Uruguay both have every reason to believe they’ll be standing with two matches to go.
The Rest of the Best
I ran out of fingers somewhere in the last section, but my best guess is that I still have five teams I haven’t mentioned. Despite not scoring from the field, Ghana’s two converted penalty kicks were enough to net them a win and a draw and move them on into the knock out stage against the good old U.S. of A. On the Asian front Japan and South Korea both advanced, despite being viewed as also rans when the first ball dropped. They are both technically solid hard working teams and while they are underdogs against Paraguay and Uruguay respectively their draws are about as good as could be hoped for. Then there is Mexico, who has looked pretty good, but has the draw from hell playing first Argentina, and if they upset them, the winner of the Germany-England match. Which leaves the U.S. who I’m not talking about.
A Little Math
Of the 16 teams, 11 have never won the World Cup before. At first glance that seems like a recipe for a wide open result. At second glance though, in 18 previous world cups only 7 teams have ever won the whole thing, and 5 of them are still left. That’s more than in either of the last 2 World Cups, and those ended up with finals consisting of France v Italy and Germany v Brazil, all former winners. Moral of the story, expect the same old teams to emerge as the tournament goes deeper and deeper. It’s entirely possible that half of the final 8 and 3 of the final 4 will be previous winners. The only corner of the bracket that doesn’t have a past champion, has Spain and Portugal, two powerhouses waiting for their first breakthrough.
O.K. I Lied
After its last second heroics the U.S.A. has as good a draw as you could possibly hope for. With Ghana up first, and then the winner of the Uruguay-South Korea match the semi-finals and a possible match up with Brazil is not beyond the realm of possibility. Of course, Ghana comes first and the lone standing Africans are clearly the home team. They are a physically gifted defensive minded team, who look to counter attack in much the same way the Yanks do. The Black Stars are a better team than either Algeria or Slovenia and will not give the U.S. nearly as many scoring chances as those two teams did.
Also, my heart can’t take another ninety minutes of last second heroics.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Watching (More) Soccer So You Don't Have To
We are now two thirds of the way through the group stages of the world cup. Seems like a good time for a little bit of, what have we learned.
The Ball
Jabalani, the ball “invented” for this World Cup was initially decried by goal keepers the world over as, in U.S. Goalie Tim Howard’s words, “tragic.” And there certainly have been some dreadful goalie mistakes so far, none worse than England’s Robert Green against the U.S. But, as it turns out, the ball has been equally as effective at causing attacking players pain. More frequently than the goalie mistakes are the long strikes, and crosses, many times from some of the best players in the world, flying hither thither and yon. So far Jabalani seems to have prevented more goals than it caused.
The Refs
Obviously the blown call that disallowed the U.S.’s third goal against Slovenia has made headlines, but quite frankly that’s been the least of their problems. Bad calls happen from time to time, and those calls swing games. If the goal had been disallowed in a game between say Serbia and Ghana, it would have been talked about for ten minutes and then the world would have moved on. The bigger problem though has been the refs consistently being unable to maintain control of their games without issuing yellow and red cards with abandon. This leads to players picking up cheap second yellow cards and being sent off early, like Martin Klose for Germany against Serbia. In other cases cheap straight red cards are being given forcing teams to play extended periods of time down a man. Just ask Australia or Switzerland what that’s like. There has been a consistent inability by the referees to differentiate between real contact, and flopping. Its like penalty card roulette whenever two players run into each other (aided by the fact that both that both players hit the ground like they’ve had a leg chopped off). After starting off the tournament strong the refs have had an absolute nightmare run in the second matches of the group stage.
The Continents
Africa:
Ick. A World Cup that was supposed to be a coming out party for the home sides has turned into a giant step backwards. It is distinctly possible that for the first time in over 20 years an African team will not advance past the group stages. Ghana and Nigeria have a shot at keeping that from happening, but Ghana will need to get a result against Germany, and Nigeria will need to win and get help.
Asia:
A surprisingly good performance from the region, with both South Korea, and Japan seeming poised to advance, and even Australia (yes geographically challenged FIFA considers Australia, but not New Zealand a part of Asia), with a shot of moving through. North Korea on the other hand, gave the Brazilians a game effort, falling 2-1, before rolling studs up for Portugal. But on the bright side I’m sure the headlines in North Korea will praise Dear Leader for his dramatic last second hat trick in winning the World Cup (actually apparently the drubbing was broadcast live in the People’s Repub. I wonder how Kim Jong will spin that. And if I ever own a bar, I’m naming it the People’s Repub).
Europe:
France, England and Italy are all dramatic disappointments to date, although the latter 2 are good bets to advance despite their form. Portugal submitted the drubbing of the tournament, crushing North Korea 7-0, and all but locking up advancing to the knock out stage. Spain and Germany have both blown hot and cold, dropping a game but still being well poised to advance. When your continent makes up more than a third of the field it’s a good bet that somebody will figure out a way to contend, even if it isn’t who you expect (Ahem Netherlands).
N. America:
Mexico is through, and if the U.S. takes care of business against Algeria they’ll be through too. Now the question is can either of them make some noise in knock out stage.
S. America:
Oh my. If things break as expected all 5 teams will advance to the knock out stage, without a weak team among them. After playing conservative first matches, Paraguay and Uruguay both took care of business in their second matches against weak opponents. Brazil and Argentina are Brazil and Argentina and Chile has looked lively and dangerous in sitting atop its group as well (although they have yet to play Spain).
And Finally New Zealand:
The little team that could. Qualifying for the World Cup by
beating powerhouses like New Caledonia, Vanuatu and Bahrain, New Zealand would have been considered lucky to score a goal, or get a draw entering the tournament. But after two games, they have tied first Slovakia and then mighty Italy. If they can get a result against Paraguay they have every chance to move onto the knockout stages. That would be one of the biggest upsets of all time. Think of it like a 16 beating a 1 seed.
And I’ll be back with more pithy summing up before the knock out stage begins this weekend.
The Ball
Jabalani, the ball “invented” for this World Cup was initially decried by goal keepers the world over as, in U.S. Goalie Tim Howard’s words, “tragic.” And there certainly have been some dreadful goalie mistakes so far, none worse than England’s Robert Green against the U.S. But, as it turns out, the ball has been equally as effective at causing attacking players pain. More frequently than the goalie mistakes are the long strikes, and crosses, many times from some of the best players in the world, flying hither thither and yon. So far Jabalani seems to have prevented more goals than it caused.
The Refs
Obviously the blown call that disallowed the U.S.’s third goal against Slovenia has made headlines, but quite frankly that’s been the least of their problems. Bad calls happen from time to time, and those calls swing games. If the goal had been disallowed in a game between say Serbia and Ghana, it would have been talked about for ten minutes and then the world would have moved on. The bigger problem though has been the refs consistently being unable to maintain control of their games without issuing yellow and red cards with abandon. This leads to players picking up cheap second yellow cards and being sent off early, like Martin Klose for Germany against Serbia. In other cases cheap straight red cards are being given forcing teams to play extended periods of time down a man. Just ask Australia or Switzerland what that’s like. There has been a consistent inability by the referees to differentiate between real contact, and flopping. Its like penalty card roulette whenever two players run into each other (aided by the fact that both that both players hit the ground like they’ve had a leg chopped off). After starting off the tournament strong the refs have had an absolute nightmare run in the second matches of the group stage.
The Continents
Africa:
Ick. A World Cup that was supposed to be a coming out party for the home sides has turned into a giant step backwards. It is distinctly possible that for the first time in over 20 years an African team will not advance past the group stages. Ghana and Nigeria have a shot at keeping that from happening, but Ghana will need to get a result against Germany, and Nigeria will need to win and get help.
Asia:
A surprisingly good performance from the region, with both South Korea, and Japan seeming poised to advance, and even Australia (yes geographically challenged FIFA considers Australia, but not New Zealand a part of Asia), with a shot of moving through. North Korea on the other hand, gave the Brazilians a game effort, falling 2-1, before rolling studs up for Portugal. But on the bright side I’m sure the headlines in North Korea will praise Dear Leader for his dramatic last second hat trick in winning the World Cup (actually apparently the drubbing was broadcast live in the People’s Repub. I wonder how Kim Jong will spin that. And if I ever own a bar, I’m naming it the People’s Repub).
Europe:
France, England and Italy are all dramatic disappointments to date, although the latter 2 are good bets to advance despite their form. Portugal submitted the drubbing of the tournament, crushing North Korea 7-0, and all but locking up advancing to the knock out stage. Spain and Germany have both blown hot and cold, dropping a game but still being well poised to advance. When your continent makes up more than a third of the field it’s a good bet that somebody will figure out a way to contend, even if it isn’t who you expect (Ahem Netherlands).
N. America:
Mexico is through, and if the U.S. takes care of business against Algeria they’ll be through too. Now the question is can either of them make some noise in knock out stage.
S. America:
Oh my. If things break as expected all 5 teams will advance to the knock out stage, without a weak team among them. After playing conservative first matches, Paraguay and Uruguay both took care of business in their second matches against weak opponents. Brazil and Argentina are Brazil and Argentina and Chile has looked lively and dangerous in sitting atop its group as well (although they have yet to play Spain).
And Finally New Zealand:
The little team that could. Qualifying for the World Cup by
beating powerhouses like New Caledonia, Vanuatu and Bahrain, New Zealand would have been considered lucky to score a goal, or get a draw entering the tournament. But after two games, they have tied first Slovakia and then mighty Italy. If they can get a result against Paraguay they have every chance to move onto the knockout stages. That would be one of the biggest upsets of all time. Think of it like a 16 beating a 1 seed.
And I’ll be back with more pithy summing up before the knock out stage begins this weekend.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Watching Soccer So You Don't Have To
One weekend and 8 games done. Here, game by game is a brief review for all you non soccer fans out there.
Friday
South Africa 1 – Mexico 1
My mother, who only knew the World Cup was starting because the Mexican workers fixing her basement asked if they could hook up the TV, summed it up best. “It was a good score. South Aftica avoided the ignomininiy…ignomity…ingno…embarrassment of being the first host team to lose its first match, and I didn’t have a bunch of angry Mexicans in my basement.” Mom always has a way of getting to what’s important.
France 0 – Uruguay 0
This game was awful. It was everything that American people who don’t like soccer think soccer is. To make an American football comparison; Uruguay’s offense was as if a team decided to punt on first down every time they got the ball, so that their defense could stop France. Then when France punted Uruguay could attempt to return it for a touchdown. So for those of you keeping score at home, Uruguay are the Chicago Bears of the World Cup.
Saturday
South Korea 2 – Greece 0
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Literally. The game started at 5:30 in the morning our time. South Korea scored in the first ten minutes, and Greece didn’t get a shot on goal for over an hour. This was not a game you woul call competitive, or interesting. It got a lot of fast forward treatment on the DVR.
Argentina 1 – Nigeria 0
Lionel Messi is the best player in the world. He had more shots on goal for Argentina in the first half than any other team in the tournament up to that point. The fact that none of them went in is because the Nigerian goalie by his own admission had the game of his life. Of course you don’t get extra points for game of your life when you still lose. On the flip side Argentina tried really hard to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory in the second half. With Argentine hero, and certified madman Maradona on the bench (think of him like “the most interesting man in the world” if the most interesting man in the world were a raving egotistical psychopath) Argentina has the delicate mix of talent and insanity to make them a prime rubbernecking candidate.
England 1 – USA 1
The main event of the day. Soccer really can be a cruel sport. American fans had been waiting six months for the match, ever since the World Cup schedules were made. And after six months and five minutes it seemed that it would all be for nothing as England ruthlessly cut out American hearts with a goal before you could blink. For the next 85 minutes though the US was every bit the equal of one of the legitimate contenders for the World Cup crown. And when you add to that England’s goalie pulling his very own Bill Buckner and letting a beyond routine save bounce off his hands and in and you have a well earned draw for the U.S. Americans often have a problem with the idea of a tie, so let’s adopt the New York Post’s stance. As the back page headline read “U.S. beats England 1-1.” Amen.
Sunday
Slovenia 1 – Algeria 0
The smallest country in the tournament pitted against the weakest of the six African sides in the tournament. Unsurprisingly this led to a real snoozefest of a game. It did, however, begin Sunday’s trend of players getting red carded and sent off. Algeria began playing a man down with about twenty minutes left, and their goalie apparently thought he was from England as he also let in a routine save to give the LFYTC (that would be the Little Former Yugolsavian Team that Could…I may need to work on my anagramming skills a little) the victory.
Ghana 1 – Serbia 0
On their fourth try a team from Africa finally comes up with a victory. The Black Stars (I’m not being racist, that’s really Ghana’s nickname. Luckily they will probably not play the All Whites of New Zealand this tournament. The All Whites versus the Black Stars in formerly apartheid South Africa would probably make everybody just a bit squeamish) looked like the better ream from the start. But it took a red card to Serbia, and then a penalty shot with ten minutes left, thanks to an idiotic Serbian handball to give them the win.
Germany 4 – Australia 0
The first truly dominant performance of the tournament. Germany rolled through Australia like they were Poland (WWII joke, too soon?). It was 2-0 at halftime, and the surprisingly not all that blonde and blue Germans could have been up 3 or 4 at that point. And in the 2nd half when Australia’s best player Tim Cahill got sent off with a red card (in what was the first questionable refereeing decision of the tournament) the rout was officially on. Germany has been in 4 of the last 7 World Cup finals, so they are always contenders, but this was supposed to be a down year for them. Right. And they were going to stop at Czechoslovakia too.
Friday
South Africa 1 – Mexico 1
My mother, who only knew the World Cup was starting because the Mexican workers fixing her basement asked if they could hook up the TV, summed it up best. “It was a good score. South Aftica avoided the ignomininiy…ignomity…ingno…embarrassment of being the first host team to lose its first match, and I didn’t have a bunch of angry Mexicans in my basement.” Mom always has a way of getting to what’s important.
France 0 – Uruguay 0
This game was awful. It was everything that American people who don’t like soccer think soccer is. To make an American football comparison; Uruguay’s offense was as if a team decided to punt on first down every time they got the ball, so that their defense could stop France. Then when France punted Uruguay could attempt to return it for a touchdown. So for those of you keeping score at home, Uruguay are the Chicago Bears of the World Cup.
Saturday
South Korea 2 – Greece 0
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Literally. The game started at 5:30 in the morning our time. South Korea scored in the first ten minutes, and Greece didn’t get a shot on goal for over an hour. This was not a game you woul call competitive, or interesting. It got a lot of fast forward treatment on the DVR.
Argentina 1 – Nigeria 0
Lionel Messi is the best player in the world. He had more shots on goal for Argentina in the first half than any other team in the tournament up to that point. The fact that none of them went in is because the Nigerian goalie by his own admission had the game of his life. Of course you don’t get extra points for game of your life when you still lose. On the flip side Argentina tried really hard to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory in the second half. With Argentine hero, and certified madman Maradona on the bench (think of him like “the most interesting man in the world” if the most interesting man in the world were a raving egotistical psychopath) Argentina has the delicate mix of talent and insanity to make them a prime rubbernecking candidate.
England 1 – USA 1
The main event of the day. Soccer really can be a cruel sport. American fans had been waiting six months for the match, ever since the World Cup schedules were made. And after six months and five minutes it seemed that it would all be for nothing as England ruthlessly cut out American hearts with a goal before you could blink. For the next 85 minutes though the US was every bit the equal of one of the legitimate contenders for the World Cup crown. And when you add to that England’s goalie pulling his very own Bill Buckner and letting a beyond routine save bounce off his hands and in and you have a well earned draw for the U.S. Americans often have a problem with the idea of a tie, so let’s adopt the New York Post’s stance. As the back page headline read “U.S. beats England 1-1.” Amen.
Sunday
Slovenia 1 – Algeria 0
The smallest country in the tournament pitted against the weakest of the six African sides in the tournament. Unsurprisingly this led to a real snoozefest of a game. It did, however, begin Sunday’s trend of players getting red carded and sent off. Algeria began playing a man down with about twenty minutes left, and their goalie apparently thought he was from England as he also let in a routine save to give the LFYTC (that would be the Little Former Yugolsavian Team that Could…I may need to work on my anagramming skills a little) the victory.
Ghana 1 – Serbia 0
On their fourth try a team from Africa finally comes up with a victory. The Black Stars (I’m not being racist, that’s really Ghana’s nickname. Luckily they will probably not play the All Whites of New Zealand this tournament. The All Whites versus the Black Stars in formerly apartheid South Africa would probably make everybody just a bit squeamish) looked like the better ream from the start. But it took a red card to Serbia, and then a penalty shot with ten minutes left, thanks to an idiotic Serbian handball to give them the win.
Germany 4 – Australia 0
The first truly dominant performance of the tournament. Germany rolled through Australia like they were Poland (WWII joke, too soon?). It was 2-0 at halftime, and the surprisingly not all that blonde and blue Germans could have been up 3 or 4 at that point. And in the 2nd half when Australia’s best player Tim Cahill got sent off with a red card (in what was the first questionable refereeing decision of the tournament) the rout was officially on. Germany has been in 4 of the last 7 World Cup finals, so they are always contenders, but this was supposed to be a down year for them. Right. And they were going to stop at Czechoslovakia too.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Look Ma No Hands
It’s World Cup time. This excites me to no end for two reasons. The first is that it’s over one hundred degrees pretty much every day here. So now in addition to getting shot, I risk melting like the Wicked Witch of the West every time I go outside. And no, the fact that it’s a dry heat is not any consolation; in fact I can practically feel the greedy air sucking the water out of my skin every time I step outside the house. Being able to sit inside and watch lots of soccer in HD every day for over a month seems ever more appealing.
The second reason I’m excited is that, and I know this might make me a pariah in my home country; I’m actually a really big soccer fan. Four years ago I started watching the last World Cup, and despite a pitiful performance from the U.S.I got hooked. At the time I was living on a block in Manhattan that had a French café on one corner, and on the opposite side of the street an Italian bar. These were the kinds of places that did not have TVs 1460 out of 1461 days (that would be 365 times 4 and don’t forget to add the leap day), and didn’t have customers much more frequently than that. Except for the weekend when their respective countries were in the final match of the World Cup. All of a sudden, both establishments had TVs, balloons and lots and lots of people. So many that the intersection became an impromptu street fair, and perish the car that tried to get through. It was like the Super Bowl and the Olympics smushed together and translated into a language I didn’t speak. So, I spent the next four years learning it.
Surprisingly I found soccer similar to baseball in a whole bunch of ways. There are lots of players on the field at the same time, but only two or three of them are actively involved with the ball at once. Also, there are large stretches of both games with no scoring. To the casual watcher this makes them boring, while to a fan it offers a wider variety of factors to pay attention to. It’s the subtlety that makes both sports great, what goes on away from the ball and between the scoring. How is the defense positioned? Who’s getting tired? Who will react well to building pressure? Who is gaining the advantage in the individual mental battles that can prove so pivotal? And it doesn’t hurt soccer, that unlike baseball, there are no commercials or stoppages in play (other than halftime) and the game is over in under two hours.
So starting today I will be living all soccer all the time. Obviously the U.S. team is my first love, and a group I’ve followed religiously for the last four years. After them, I’m firmly in the Dutch camp (its either because I love Orange, or I have some monetary incentive you can decide) and then for sentimental (and maybe a little monetary also) reasons all the African teams. And since I’m a sucker for lost causes I’ll be sure to watch North Korea and New Zealand play as well.
I’ll be writing about it all (or at least some of it when I feel like it) here, because after all what else do I have to do.
The second reason I’m excited is that, and I know this might make me a pariah in my home country; I’m actually a really big soccer fan. Four years ago I started watching the last World Cup, and despite a pitiful performance from the U.S.I got hooked. At the time I was living on a block in Manhattan that had a French café on one corner, and on the opposite side of the street an Italian bar. These were the kinds of places that did not have TVs 1460 out of 1461 days (that would be 365 times 4 and don’t forget to add the leap day), and didn’t have customers much more frequently than that. Except for the weekend when their respective countries were in the final match of the World Cup. All of a sudden, both establishments had TVs, balloons and lots and lots of people. So many that the intersection became an impromptu street fair, and perish the car that tried to get through. It was like the Super Bowl and the Olympics smushed together and translated into a language I didn’t speak. So, I spent the next four years learning it.
Surprisingly I found soccer similar to baseball in a whole bunch of ways. There are lots of players on the field at the same time, but only two or three of them are actively involved with the ball at once. Also, there are large stretches of both games with no scoring. To the casual watcher this makes them boring, while to a fan it offers a wider variety of factors to pay attention to. It’s the subtlety that makes both sports great, what goes on away from the ball and between the scoring. How is the defense positioned? Who’s getting tired? Who will react well to building pressure? Who is gaining the advantage in the individual mental battles that can prove so pivotal? And it doesn’t hurt soccer, that unlike baseball, there are no commercials or stoppages in play (other than halftime) and the game is over in under two hours.
So starting today I will be living all soccer all the time. Obviously the U.S. team is my first love, and a group I’ve followed religiously for the last four years. After them, I’m firmly in the Dutch camp (its either because I love Orange, or I have some monetary incentive you can decide) and then for sentimental (and maybe a little monetary also) reasons all the African teams. And since I’m a sucker for lost causes I’ll be sure to watch North Korea and New Zealand play as well.
I’ll be writing about it all (or at least some of it when I feel like it) here, because after all what else do I have to do.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Of Tweeting and English Lessons
As I mentioned in my inaugural tweet (see the hideously ugly new box in the sidebar), I had the opportunity to teach some English the other day. To explain how it came about, I should first talk about the ever increasing security measures around the border. As the situation here continues to deteriorate (or at least stubbornly refuses to get even a little bit better) security as you come into Mexico continues to increase. It has now become commonplace for me to be stopped by U.S. Customs and Border Patrol (CBP) as I leave the U.S. Something about a single white guy driving a car with way way way out of state plates must scream suspicious. I have been asked if I have large amounts of cash, guns, ammunition, and once, “a big ol’ bag of knives or something.” Then one guy searches the car while the other guy makes small talk. Good times are had by all (except for possibly the car, which doesn’t even get a cup of coffee bought for it before being violated in every way imaginable), and after about ten minutes I’m on my way.
With one notable exception. If the Notorious D.O.G. is with me, I never ever ever get searched. It’s like a puppy Jedi mind trick. I role down the window, a CBP guy starts asking me questions, looks at D.O.G., gets a goofy little grin on his face and then waves me on through. It’s probably not surprising that CBP officers, many of whom work with drug sniffing dogs all the time, are big old softies when it comes to my pup, but the degree of difference in their attitudes is both amusing and mildly alarming. I mean what if the drug dealers watch the Jim Beam rent a puppy commercial?
Anywho. After clearing that first hurdle and driving across the bridge there’s the normal customs stop upon arriving in Mexico. That’s always been there, and is a complete nonentity. Occasionally a red light goes off and a siren rings and some guy asks to see the registration for the car. Now though, after the customs check point, there’s a military check point. The right lane of the two lane road is now cordoned off by cones with one army guy out front waving a big, orange, traffic directing flag. Of course usually he’s just waving it back and forth which means a driver has no idea whether he’s being waved in to be searched or waved on by to make his merry way into Mexico.
At least that’s what I thought until last week when the soldier, who incidentally, like most soldiers in Mexico, looks at most nineteen years old, pointed his flag at me, locked eyes, and pointed me over. So that’s what that looks like. I pulled past Mr. Flag, stopped by three additional soldiers and rolled down my window. The boss motioned me out of the car. So naturally I asked, “get out?” He nodded. Then the following conversation ensued.
Him: “How say?”
Me: “In Inglés?”
Him: “Si.”
Me: “Get…out”
Him: “Geeeet aut”
Me: “Si.”
At this point he says something in Spanish, so I put on my confused you’re talking in Spanish face. Being the intrepid guy that he is, the soldier I’m talking to points at the machine gun slung casually around his buddy’s neck, and then points at the car. I assume he’s asking if I have any guns in the car, and say no. So then he points at the gun again and asks me how to say it in English.
Me: “Gun.”
Him: “Gooo”
Me: “Gunnnnnnn”
Him: “Gooon”
Me: “Si.”
Then they did a cursory search of the car and sent me on my way. I suppose anybody willing to give English lessons at not quite gunpoint at the side of the road isn’t likely to be carrying contraband?
And on that note, follow me on twitter. It’s a well known fact that I’m perfectly willing to talk to myself. And I’ll do it in cyberspace too if you make me. But I still love an audience.
With one notable exception. If the Notorious D.O.G. is with me, I never ever ever get searched. It’s like a puppy Jedi mind trick. I role down the window, a CBP guy starts asking me questions, looks at D.O.G., gets a goofy little grin on his face and then waves me on through. It’s probably not surprising that CBP officers, many of whom work with drug sniffing dogs all the time, are big old softies when it comes to my pup, but the degree of difference in their attitudes is both amusing and mildly alarming. I mean what if the drug dealers watch the Jim Beam rent a puppy commercial?
Anywho. After clearing that first hurdle and driving across the bridge there’s the normal customs stop upon arriving in Mexico. That’s always been there, and is a complete nonentity. Occasionally a red light goes off and a siren rings and some guy asks to see the registration for the car. Now though, after the customs check point, there’s a military check point. The right lane of the two lane road is now cordoned off by cones with one army guy out front waving a big, orange, traffic directing flag. Of course usually he’s just waving it back and forth which means a driver has no idea whether he’s being waved in to be searched or waved on by to make his merry way into Mexico.
At least that’s what I thought until last week when the soldier, who incidentally, like most soldiers in Mexico, looks at most nineteen years old, pointed his flag at me, locked eyes, and pointed me over. So that’s what that looks like. I pulled past Mr. Flag, stopped by three additional soldiers and rolled down my window. The boss motioned me out of the car. So naturally I asked, “get out?” He nodded. Then the following conversation ensued.
Him: “How say?”
Me: “In Inglés?”
Him: “Si.”
Me: “Get…out”
Him: “Geeeet aut”
Me: “Si.”
At this point he says something in Spanish, so I put on my confused you’re talking in Spanish face. Being the intrepid guy that he is, the soldier I’m talking to points at the machine gun slung casually around his buddy’s neck, and then points at the car. I assume he’s asking if I have any guns in the car, and say no. So then he points at the gun again and asks me how to say it in English.
Me: “Gun.”
Him: “Gooo”
Me: “Gunnnnnnn”
Him: “Gooon”
Me: “Si.”
Then they did a cursory search of the car and sent me on my way. I suppose anybody willing to give English lessons at not quite gunpoint at the side of the road isn’t likely to be carrying contraband?
And on that note, follow me on twitter. It’s a well known fact that I’m perfectly willing to talk to myself. And I’ll do it in cyberspace too if you make me. But I still love an audience.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
And He's Back
It has been pointed out to me that I live life backwards. It was spring break time so I left Mexico and went to New York. The LR was working in Tijuana, the next week so we spent the weekend in San Diego. Again backwards. And finally, the area I live in is in the news making waves, and instead of capitalizing on it and snarking my butt off, I take a month’s vacation from blogging. It’s backwards.
But the thing is, I don’t have much to say about events on the border. From my vantage point down here, the recent coverage of Juarez says a lot more about the US media, and the U.S.’s appetite for news in general. Every once in a while a story in Mexico gets picked up by American news media for whatever reason. This time, I assume, it was because the three people killed in Ciudad Juarez were associated with the U.S. Consulate, so the President officially commented. Then for three days the story is in the news, and then it goes away again. The same thing happened in February when 14 people were massacred at a party.
Look, I understand that there is limited space both in the American newspapers (especially now as the print media industry circles the drain) and in the American psyche. Hell, we can’t even remember to think about the troops in Iraq and Afghanistan on a regular basis, and they are American. So, I don’t expect there to be ongoing news coverage, but the fact remains that this is not a new news story. And when the news treats what is in fact a chronic illness as an acute attack, it becomes impossible to reconcile the coverage with the reality.
Is it sad that three people died? Of course. Is it newsworthy? Absolutely. But those aren’t the important questions, these are. Is it sadder or more noteworthy than the ten Mexican citizens that died the day before? Or the ten who died the day before that? In Ciudad Juarez alone over 650 people have been killed this year to date. There were well over 2000 murders last year, and over 1200 the year before that. Murder, violence and the drug trade are just a way of life here. In a very real sense it’s a war zone, except instead of being a world away from the U.S. it’s less than ten minutes.
So, since I don’t have much to say about the violence down here, the blog is going to undergo a bit of a retasking. The blog is about my life on the border. At the moment my life on the border consists of trying very hard not to get shot (either accidently or intentionally). To that end, I stay inside a lot, play with my puppy, watch tv and root for the Yankees. So that stuff will be making more of an appearance on the blog. I’m not saying there will be 1500 word treatises on American Idol, or the back of the Yankee bullpen, but I’m not promising there won’t be either. There will still be amusing anecdotes (although probably more about Texas than Mexico for the time being), it just won’t be exclusively amusing anecdotes about the mess that is Mexico.
But the thing is, I don’t have much to say about events on the border. From my vantage point down here, the recent coverage of Juarez says a lot more about the US media, and the U.S.’s appetite for news in general. Every once in a while a story in Mexico gets picked up by American news media for whatever reason. This time, I assume, it was because the three people killed in Ciudad Juarez were associated with the U.S. Consulate, so the President officially commented. Then for three days the story is in the news, and then it goes away again. The same thing happened in February when 14 people were massacred at a party.
Look, I understand that there is limited space both in the American newspapers (especially now as the print media industry circles the drain) and in the American psyche. Hell, we can’t even remember to think about the troops in Iraq and Afghanistan on a regular basis, and they are American. So, I don’t expect there to be ongoing news coverage, but the fact remains that this is not a new news story. And when the news treats what is in fact a chronic illness as an acute attack, it becomes impossible to reconcile the coverage with the reality.
Is it sad that three people died? Of course. Is it newsworthy? Absolutely. But those aren’t the important questions, these are. Is it sadder or more noteworthy than the ten Mexican citizens that died the day before? Or the ten who died the day before that? In Ciudad Juarez alone over 650 people have been killed this year to date. There were well over 2000 murders last year, and over 1200 the year before that. Murder, violence and the drug trade are just a way of life here. In a very real sense it’s a war zone, except instead of being a world away from the U.S. it’s less than ten minutes.
So, since I don’t have much to say about the violence down here, the blog is going to undergo a bit of a retasking. The blog is about my life on the border. At the moment my life on the border consists of trying very hard not to get shot (either accidently or intentionally). To that end, I stay inside a lot, play with my puppy, watch tv and root for the Yankees. So that stuff will be making more of an appearance on the blog. I’m not saying there will be 1500 word treatises on American Idol, or the back of the Yankee bullpen, but I’m not promising there won’t be either. There will still be amusing anecdotes (although probably more about Texas than Mexico for the time being), it just won’t be exclusively amusing anecdotes about the mess that is Mexico.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Speedy Gonzalez
There’s a long list of things I’m not good at. And while driving is not on that list, driving below the posted speed limit is probably in the top ten. I think it’s pretty obvious that since I’m a better driver than most, I should be allowed to drive fast. Roads should have different speed limits for differently skilled people. If you’re a moron you have to drive more slowly. If you’re over 65 you have to drive more slowly. If you’re a woman… then I’m sure you’re an excellent driver and have never made a mistake behind the wheel in your life and could probably drive circles around Mario Andretti. And I promise I wrote the previous sentence of my own volition and was in no way threatened by the LR or any other woman in my life.
Unfortunately, policemen tend not to agree with my stance. Despite my heavy foot, before we moved out here I had not gotten a speeding ticket in five years. And believe me, it wasn’t for lack of trying. There were moments where I neared warp speeds on the New Jersey Turnpike. Out here though, my out of state (on the U.S. side) or out of country plates double as a great big giant speed trap target. I got two in the first two months we were here, but in what I would consider dubious circumstances. Thankfully they were both on the U.S. side.
Cue the ominous music.
Enter stage left Mexican Cop on motorcycle emerging from speed trap.
Now, I obviously have no problem admitting when I’m speeding, but there were two cars going faster than me on road one (the road that goes to the bridge to the U.S.) when the motor bike cop pulled out behind me and turned his siren on. I pulled over, put on my dutiful apologetic cop face, and mixed it in with a heavy helping of confused American gestures. I wasn’t really worried, it’s Mexico after all, and everything’s cheap. How expensive could a ticket really be?
He spoke a little English, which made things easier, and did the normal cop thing, telling me how fast I was going and blah blah blah. Then we got to the problem. Apparently in Mexico if you get a ticket they take your drivers license until you pay. The cop was very polite, and even showed me the other drivers licenses he collected that day as proof that he wasn’t scamming me or anything. I don’t think I need to explain why this could be a giant problem for me. But I will anyway. First, I was driving towards the U.S. where the possibility of being stopped by CBP (that’s Customs and Border Patrol for all you uninitiated folk) going either into the U.S. or back to Mexico later existed. When being asked for ID, saying “The Mexican traffic cop took my license” ranks slightly below, “The Notorious D.O.G ate it.” Second, even if I got back home without a problem, there was the problem of getting my license back. Not to impugn the Mexican police who I’m sure are all fine and upstanding individuals, but we do live in a place that leads the world in murders, and of those murders over ninety percent go unsolved. So my faith in getting my license back if I let it out of my sight was not exactly strong.
I was in a bind. I wasn’t about to give the admittedly very nice and understanding policeman my license, and he wasn’t about to just let me drive off without a ticket…or so he thought. It turns out that the LR’s job is not without its perks (it better have perks, I mean they made us move down here so they have a lot of making up to do). For example, they have a roving security team to make sure that their employees are safeish. So I very politely told the cop that I needed permission before I could give him my license, and asked if I could call my employer (not technically my employer but whatever he didn’t know wasn’t going to get me arrested). He said sure, and I called the LR, who called the security people who were dispatched to come rescue me (and by rescue I mean politely explain to the policeman that there was no way in hell he could have my license).
At this point I suspect that Senor Policeman decided that I was not really worth his time. Without too much more fuss, he handed me my license, told me to slow down, shook my hand and drove off. So, Mexico isn’t all bad, in fact it marks the first time that I have ever talked my way out of a ticket.
Unfortunately, policemen tend not to agree with my stance. Despite my heavy foot, before we moved out here I had not gotten a speeding ticket in five years. And believe me, it wasn’t for lack of trying. There were moments where I neared warp speeds on the New Jersey Turnpike. Out here though, my out of state (on the U.S. side) or out of country plates double as a great big giant speed trap target. I got two in the first two months we were here, but in what I would consider dubious circumstances. Thankfully they were both on the U.S. side.
Cue the ominous music.
Enter stage left Mexican Cop on motorcycle emerging from speed trap.
Now, I obviously have no problem admitting when I’m speeding, but there were two cars going faster than me on road one (the road that goes to the bridge to the U.S.) when the motor bike cop pulled out behind me and turned his siren on. I pulled over, put on my dutiful apologetic cop face, and mixed it in with a heavy helping of confused American gestures. I wasn’t really worried, it’s Mexico after all, and everything’s cheap. How expensive could a ticket really be?
He spoke a little English, which made things easier, and did the normal cop thing, telling me how fast I was going and blah blah blah. Then we got to the problem. Apparently in Mexico if you get a ticket they take your drivers license until you pay. The cop was very polite, and even showed me the other drivers licenses he collected that day as proof that he wasn’t scamming me or anything. I don’t think I need to explain why this could be a giant problem for me. But I will anyway. First, I was driving towards the U.S. where the possibility of being stopped by CBP (that’s Customs and Border Patrol for all you uninitiated folk) going either into the U.S. or back to Mexico later existed. When being asked for ID, saying “The Mexican traffic cop took my license” ranks slightly below, “The Notorious D.O.G ate it.” Second, even if I got back home without a problem, there was the problem of getting my license back. Not to impugn the Mexican police who I’m sure are all fine and upstanding individuals, but we do live in a place that leads the world in murders, and of those murders over ninety percent go unsolved. So my faith in getting my license back if I let it out of my sight was not exactly strong.
I was in a bind. I wasn’t about to give the admittedly very nice and understanding policeman my license, and he wasn’t about to just let me drive off without a ticket…or so he thought. It turns out that the LR’s job is not without its perks (it better have perks, I mean they made us move down here so they have a lot of making up to do). For example, they have a roving security team to make sure that their employees are safeish. So I very politely told the cop that I needed permission before I could give him my license, and asked if I could call my employer (not technically my employer but whatever he didn’t know wasn’t going to get me arrested). He said sure, and I called the LR, who called the security people who were dispatched to come rescue me (and by rescue I mean politely explain to the policeman that there was no way in hell he could have my license).
At this point I suspect that Senor Policeman decided that I was not really worth his time. Without too much more fuss, he handed me my license, told me to slow down, shook my hand and drove off. So, Mexico isn’t all bad, in fact it marks the first time that I have ever talked my way out of a ticket.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
But Dogs Don't Have Toes
So, it’s over two weeks later and he’s back. I haven’t been shot, kidnapped, drug muled (which I’ve decided to make a verb) mugged, or menaced. I’ve just been living life, which mainly consists of sitting on the couch and watching the winter Olympics. I’m becoming finely versed in the higher points of curling strategy, and will put my knowledge of the U.S. Nordic Combined team up there with anybody. And by that I mean, I know that the Nordic combined consists of ski jumping and cross country skiing, but not, to my disappointment, shooting.
Usually the D.O.G. wouldn’t stand for such sedentary couch sitting behavior, at least not if I wanted to keep all my fingers in working order. After all, a puppy’s life only consists of four things really, eating, playing, bathrooming, and that curious feeling that’s starting to develop in his nether regions. Well, last week he had the fourth thing removed. Poor little guy. And after having his testosteronectomy he has had to wear, menacing music please….The Cone of Shame.
The Cone’s actual (and really quite fitting name) is a Victorian Collar, which I suppose means that late 19th century noble people had problems refraining from licking themselves. The challenge with putting the Cone on our pup is that he had just started to figure out where all his arms and legs were at the same time. Now he has to account for this giant white not quite albatross around his neck. He can’t. It results in him walking five steps, having the ride side of the cone knock into the wall, D.O.G. looking, stopping, looking around confused, taking five more steps, rinsing and repeating. And he’s not the only one who suffers. I am intimately acquainted with how the edges of the Cone feel banging into the back of my knees as the poor pup fails to figure out that he can’t run through my legs like he’s used to.
So with no more walking and with a dubious sense of balance and spatial perception, little D.O.G. had to find other ways to amuse himself. Chief among them was stealing my socks. It started off innocently enough when I carelessly left one lying around. He decided to play keep away. He’s a dog, it’s what they do. Soon though, he developed a full on sock addiction. I adopted the habit of putting one sock in my pocket while I donned the other. D.O.G. found this a novel new twist to keep away. My plan worked for a day and a half until, while bending over to put one sock on, I felt the pup jump up and rest his hands on my waist. He briefly nuzzled my hip then jumped down and ran off. I rejoiced in my brief respite from puppy molestation, and thanked the stars for whatever had distracted the hyperactive one. Then I reached into my pocket for my second sock. It was gone. Across the room puppy cocked his head at me and did a little dance before running off with his prize. My smart little dog had gone into my pocket and extracted my sock.
I have been forced to designate dog socks, and non dog socks. Non dog socks are not put on or taken off around the puppy. In fact they are never even worn around the house without shoes on over them. He can yank a sock off a foot and be two rooms away before you start to wonder why your toe feels cold and wet. But at least they gave him something to do other than eat my hand while jumping around our living room. So, that’s what life is at the moment. I watch curling, and hide my socks from a puppy wearing a Victorian Collar.
Usually the D.O.G. wouldn’t stand for such sedentary couch sitting behavior, at least not if I wanted to keep all my fingers in working order. After all, a puppy’s life only consists of four things really, eating, playing, bathrooming, and that curious feeling that’s starting to develop in his nether regions. Well, last week he had the fourth thing removed. Poor little guy. And after having his testosteronectomy he has had to wear, menacing music please….The Cone of Shame.
The Cone’s actual (and really quite fitting name) is a Victorian Collar, which I suppose means that late 19th century noble people had problems refraining from licking themselves. The challenge with putting the Cone on our pup is that he had just started to figure out where all his arms and legs were at the same time. Now he has to account for this giant white not quite albatross around his neck. He can’t. It results in him walking five steps, having the ride side of the cone knock into the wall, D.O.G. looking, stopping, looking around confused, taking five more steps, rinsing and repeating. And he’s not the only one who suffers. I am intimately acquainted with how the edges of the Cone feel banging into the back of my knees as the poor pup fails to figure out that he can’t run through my legs like he’s used to.
So with no more walking and with a dubious sense of balance and spatial perception, little D.O.G. had to find other ways to amuse himself. Chief among them was stealing my socks. It started off innocently enough when I carelessly left one lying around. He decided to play keep away. He’s a dog, it’s what they do. Soon though, he developed a full on sock addiction. I adopted the habit of putting one sock in my pocket while I donned the other. D.O.G. found this a novel new twist to keep away. My plan worked for a day and a half until, while bending over to put one sock on, I felt the pup jump up and rest his hands on my waist. He briefly nuzzled my hip then jumped down and ran off. I rejoiced in my brief respite from puppy molestation, and thanked the stars for whatever had distracted the hyperactive one. Then I reached into my pocket for my second sock. It was gone. Across the room puppy cocked his head at me and did a little dance before running off with his prize. My smart little dog had gone into my pocket and extracted my sock.
I have been forced to designate dog socks, and non dog socks. Non dog socks are not put on or taken off around the puppy. In fact they are never even worn around the house without shoes on over them. He can yank a sock off a foot and be two rooms away before you start to wonder why your toe feels cold and wet. But at least they gave him something to do other than eat my hand while jumping around our living room. So, that’s what life is at the moment. I watch curling, and hide my socks from a puppy wearing a Victorian Collar.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Mexican Roads: Off Road Experience Now Included!
We don’t really go out much on the south side of the border. Quite frankly being out at night is unsettling at best, and scary at worst. Even the 15 minute drive from the border to our house requires full attention at night. Forgetting about the possibility of bullets, you have to be alert for the ever changing pothole situation. And if it’s rained, which has happened disturbingly often in our first 3 months here, then oftentimes two out of three lanes on a street will be flooded, and forget side streets. Unless your idea of a good time is driving in a lake, then by all means ford away. We do, however, at least try to sample the local restaurants. A nice 7:30 dinner gets you home by 9, and while the 5 minute drive can be stressful, its generally worth it for a nice meal at a nice place where you are the only table there. So that’s what we did last Saturday.
We had a very nice meal with friends, and then promptly missed our turn on the drive home. We should have turned left, but went straight, and promptly arrived in La Hoguera de las Vanidades (which google translator assures me is Spanish for Bonfire of the Vanities). The next ten minutes involved 3 illegal u-turns and going down two one way streets in the wrong direction. Eventually we found a road we recognized and guessed that we were a mere block or two from where we needed to be. So I made the turn onto the incredibly dark and disconcertingly empty road. The only other car was a 20 year old pickup truck about 50 yards ahead of us.
The road was one way and about four lanes wide (A note on Mexican lanes: they don’t really exist. The road paint is so faded that the only thing defining lanes is where the collective Mexican subconscious decides to drive), and as we drove we could make out some construction ahead of us. There was a well lit sign in the second lane from the left. A generic construction arrow pointed left as if to indicate that all traffic must get in the single left lane and filter by. But to the right of the arrow there is nothing blocking the road. No cones, no barricades, no construction tape, no nothing. I wonder aloud what it means, and the LR suggests that the sign is probably indicating a whole behind it and assuring that cars avoid the lane it was placed in. Makes sense to me, I plan on staying to the right.
The pick-up in front obviously had the same idea because it stayed right. And then the front end of if disappeared. We both saw it at the same time. The LR screamed “STOP!” as I was already swerving to the left, going the way the sign pointed with plenty of time to spare. As we drove by the suddenly stopped pick-up we could say that the front wheels had driven into a deep crevice in the road, which was conveniently about a wheel length wide. The truck had hit it with such force that its wheels were wedged in and the back of the truck had popped slightly up in the air. Of course behind the gap in the road somebody had thoughtfully placed protective mesh, so that if you were driving the wrong way down the one way street (like we had been three minutes before) you would be protected.
We drove on by and got home safely. Just another night out in Mexico.
This blog has been gang violence free 31 days
Body Count: .5
We had a very nice meal with friends, and then promptly missed our turn on the drive home. We should have turned left, but went straight, and promptly arrived in La Hoguera de las Vanidades (which google translator assures me is Spanish for Bonfire of the Vanities). The next ten minutes involved 3 illegal u-turns and going down two one way streets in the wrong direction. Eventually we found a road we recognized and guessed that we were a mere block or two from where we needed to be. So I made the turn onto the incredibly dark and disconcertingly empty road. The only other car was a 20 year old pickup truck about 50 yards ahead of us.
The road was one way and about four lanes wide (A note on Mexican lanes: they don’t really exist. The road paint is so faded that the only thing defining lanes is where the collective Mexican subconscious decides to drive), and as we drove we could make out some construction ahead of us. There was a well lit sign in the second lane from the left. A generic construction arrow pointed left as if to indicate that all traffic must get in the single left lane and filter by. But to the right of the arrow there is nothing blocking the road. No cones, no barricades, no construction tape, no nothing. I wonder aloud what it means, and the LR suggests that the sign is probably indicating a whole behind it and assuring that cars avoid the lane it was placed in. Makes sense to me, I plan on staying to the right.
The pick-up in front obviously had the same idea because it stayed right. And then the front end of if disappeared. We both saw it at the same time. The LR screamed “STOP!” as I was already swerving to the left, going the way the sign pointed with plenty of time to spare. As we drove by the suddenly stopped pick-up we could say that the front wheels had driven into a deep crevice in the road, which was conveniently about a wheel length wide. The truck had hit it with such force that its wheels were wedged in and the back of the truck had popped slightly up in the air. Of course behind the gap in the road somebody had thoughtfully placed protective mesh, so that if you were driving the wrong way down the one way street (like we had been three minutes before) you would be protected.
We drove on by and got home safely. Just another night out in Mexico.
This blog has been gang violence free 31 days
Body Count: .5
Thursday, January 28, 2010
But is it the Top or Bottom Half?
The body count at the end of this post has now been changed to .5. Yay? Now, as I will explain presently it’s a little bit of a stretch, but it’s my blog and I can do what I want. I’ve been here for 3 months for crying out loud! There is a record setting pace for murders and I haven’t even seen one; I’m antsy. So, without further ado, this is the story of me almost witnessing a murder.
Well, with a little further ado. This story takes place a few weeks ago (or as I keep track at this time of year, the Wild Card playoff weekend of the NFL playoffs) and between then and now my parents came for a lovely little visit. I neglected to mention the following incident so that everybody’s sanity would be preserved. And now, really without any further ado, onto the story.
A week ago Saturday, while we were sleeping, somebody was offed outside the wall of our little housing development, on what I generally refer to as street number one. It happened around midnight and me and the LR were sound asleep. How’s that for a story. Our first murder and we slept right through it. Gunshots less than a football field away and we were callously disinterested. Mexico must be converting us after all. Our neighbors (also Americans and coworkers of the LR), who had only been down here a week and thus haven’t become the grizzled veterans the LR and I have, (although Mr neighbor is actually a grizzled veteran but I digress), had to relate the story to us on Monday. (I understand that to imply that I have become a grizzled veteran of Mexico stretches your credulity just a tad…lets just agree to ignore that fact and move on).
Apparently around midnight they heard gunshots, awoke, and looked out their window (a rookie mistake if I’ve ever heard one) to see a body in the parking lot of one of the stores on street one. They kept watching as lots of military type vehicles and people sped up, sirens a blaring, and stood around. That’s it, that’s the whole story. By morning we had no idea anything had happened. The body was gone, there’s no such thing as a crime scene…and if it wasn’t for our neighbors we never would have known. Makes me wonder how many other bodies I may have half missed.
Three days later my mother was here, and I was driving her down that exact street, telling her how (relatively) safe it was and that she shouldn’t worry. And I wasn’t lying either. It is a relatively safe street. One presumably drug related murder doesn’t even come close to changing that. That’s the crazy thing about this city. Drug violence happens absolutely everywhere, but if you’re in a safe area and not involved in the drug trade that makes you more or less safe (with the usual proviso of paying attention to your surroundings and not being an idiot). I did mention, however, that I wouldn’t want to be out walking alone at night though.
So, sorry mom…but all things considered I think we’d both agree you were better off not knowing while you were here.
This Blog has been gang violence free for 20 days.
Body Count: .5
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Spanish French Quarter
I apologize in advance to the one person from Cincinnati who I know reads this blog…to the rest of Cincinnati, meh I couldn’t care less.
I have had enough of the Cincinnati Bearcats and their fans to last me a lifetime (to my Mexican neighbors, please do not take that as an invitation). You might think it would get hard to be sick and tired of Cincinnati related things in Mexico, and you’d be right. It would not, however, be hard to get tired of “Bearcat Nation” if you were in New Orleans for New Year’s weekend when they were playing Florida in the Sugar Bowl, which the LR and I were. Forget the fact that the team was clearly woefully overmatched in the game, which they lost 51 to 24 (and it really wasn’t even that close), their fans couldn’t even muster a proper fight song…mostly it was just a lot of random yelling while walking up and down Bourbon street.
It’s sad. There used to be lots of human white noise on Bourbon Street no matter what time of year it was. It used to be you couldn’t hear yourself speak over the din on any given Monday afternoon, let alone a Saturday night. Now though, it takes a bunch of in over their heads inarticulate Bearcat fans drowning out an embarrassing bowl game performance (and on the flip side a bunch of mildly excited at winning a cake walk of a consolation prize Gator fans) to make the French Quarter hum. And on Friday night it was certainly humming. A party the old New Orleans would be proud of. And by Saturday night, January 2nd, one day after the bowl game, the scene was mostly dead. It doesn’t bode well when you’re depending on the largesse of the people of Cincinnati of all places.
On the other hand, Saturday officially reminded me of my adopted home. (Can it be home, if you don’t speak the language, don’t go outside, and spend the vast majority of time talking to your dog?) About a month ago we took a tour of the city. In a wonderfully planned scheduling moment, it was the Sunday morning right after the Christmas party when we dragged our asses out of bed. We thought we were getting a functional tour…you know things like, these dry cleaners will neither shoot you nor steal your clothes.; this dentist speaks enough English not to mistakenly give you a gold tooth. That kind of stuff. Instead we got a tourist’s tour, an odd holdover from the days when there were tourists. We learned all about the history of our cute little Mexican drug riddled city.
It went something like this. This area used to be nice, now it’s not. This area was historic; then in a war, one side or the other burned it down. Rinse, repeat. Then we got to downtown. Despite looking nothing like New Orleans, smelling nothing like New Orleans, and being substantially less safe than even the very unsafe New Orleans, I almost instantly turned to the LR and said it reminded me of the post Katrina mess. One of the saddest things about the drug trafficization of the Mexican border is the degree to which it has destroyed the tourism industry. That degree would be total, at least where we are (I suppose some drunk collegians are still dumb enough to go to Tijuana…but not nearly as many as used to).
Walking around downtown here I could see all the remnants of an economy that used to cater to people who would come over the border for lunch and some cheap shopping at the market. But now, even the most dedicated of bargain shoppers have decided they’d rather not get shot, and stores, much like the boobs and bars in New Orleans, stand almost completely empty.
The difference in New Orleans is that during the Sugar Bowl, or Mardi Gras you can see glimpses of what once was. In Mexico,that past is a lot farther away. And it’s not like they can just hold a Sugar Bowl every once in a while for a taste of their former glory. Lord knows what the sugar would actually be.
This blog has been gang violence free for 77 days.
Body Count: Still 0 (I thought I heard gunfire the other day though. I was wrong.)
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Ode to Bark
I am very white. Obviously I don’t mean in the albino sense (if we’re just referring to skin pigmentation the Irishness of the LR means she takes the cake), but in the existential sense and all that it represents. A quick perusal of the stuff white people like website (creatively named stuffwhitepeoplelike.com , shocking I know) shows me batting about .750. And in the rare instances where I don’t like stuff that white people do, by and large it’s because my laziness trumps my whiteness. I may be really white, but I’m epically lazy. For example, number 27 is marathons and while I like them in theory, in practice Wes Anderson (number 10 on the list) will make a summer multibillion dollar blockbuster before I would ever run a marathon. Not that this is news to anybody, nor should it be. Big deal, I dance with a horrific overbite and like to sleep late and play video games…what’s the point.
Well, moving to Mexico was supposed to beat some of that lazy whiteness out of me. I mean, people are shooting each other. While planning a vacation we are warned to expect men with guns to be around, as private security abounds and tourists in the area we’re going to have been robbed before. Ethnic people, dirty water, Spanish, it should all counterbalance my whiteness. (I suppose we can just ignore that being the only white person around, bottled water, and promising to learn a foreign language are numbers 71,76, and 115 respectively).
Somehow though, not only has my whiteness not dimmed, it has become positively incandescent. How? Well, referring back to stuffwhitepeoplelike.com I point you to item number #53 on the list that currently stands at #130 entries; Dogs. The Notorious D.O.G. has single handedly (pawedly?) made me infinitely whiter. So what follows is a thoroughly incomplete list of ways in which my dog has made me whiter.
- 1. Even other puppy people are amazed at how much we talk about our puppy like a child.
- 2. Friends routinely ask us how our baby is.
- 3. We have taken more pictures of our puppy than I have taken in the rest of my life to the power of 10 (one of them is with him sitting on Santa’s lap. Not only do we treat him like a person, but a goy at that. Oh wait, he has a menorah picture too).
- 4. Our primary communication with friends back in the states consists of said pictures.
- 5. I constantly talk out loud to the Notorious D.O.G. (then again he understands what I’m saying better than most Mexicans).
- 6. I have decided his favorite TV show is Scrubs.
- 7. Sd;f;dgskv (he just jumped on my keyboard and I decided not to delete what he said).
- 8. He got a Christmas stocking.
I’ve always been sort of proud of my whiteness, so I’m not entirely ashamed that living abroad has only amplified it. Now where I live, instead of being generically white, I’m uniquely white. I’d bore you further but I must run, my baby has the hiccups.
This blog has been gang violence free for 71 days.
Body Count: Still 0 (maybe I should go outside more?)
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