How the Mexicans Celebrate Australia Day

What does Australia Day mean? Was it the day of independence? Nope, we still have the Queen of England's wrinkly mug on our money. Was it the day Australia was founded? Perhaps... if you believe Wizard Sleeve's warped version of history (plus I'm guessing that the Aborigines weren't following the Gregorian calendar when they paddled their canoes/rafts over from Asia 70,000 years ago).

Then what the fuck is it then? Well, lets be honest, does anybody really give a toss? Australia Day is a public holiday (which really means nothing for those who are in the middle of their summer holidays and who don't have a job) where people celebrate in whatever manner they choose. Be it

• Listening to the Triple J Hottest 100, chucking a few snags on the barbie and drinking beer in someones backyard
• As above but substitute Triple J with commercial radio trash OR the entire anthology of Jimmy Barnes (Barnesy) and ACDC (acca dacca)
• Praying to Allah/Buddah/Satan that you answer enough questions correctly about Aussie cricket to pass the Australian citizenship test
• Lying in bed in your underwear festering in your own filth and enjoying a day off work to indulge in some porn

 

 But for those Aussies living in Mexico, we couldn't just abandon and neglect our most sacred of holy days. So what do we do? We throw an Australia day party. It was a very tough call to pick Triple J over our beloved Barnesy (or something more to the local taste... like David "everytime-I-hear-him-I-want-to-kill-myself" Guetta or some reggaeton), but we went with it because I was very keen to know the most popular (NON MAINSTREAM OF COURSE) songs of the year and because the internet connection was good enough to support the live streaming.

Obviously there are many practical differences between an Australia Day party in Australia and Mexico:

• Time difference: In Australia its Day, in Mexico we're not lucky enough to have a holiday so we celebrate it at night (a school night none the less) so that we get our Hottest 100 from 7pm until 4am
• Weather difference: In Australia its summer, here in Mexico we are freezing our tits off inside and there are no short shorts nor bikinis in sight. We could whack out the plastic swimming pool but it would soon become a plastic ice skating rink.
• And for that reason we drink, and we drink more, to warm our little bodies (and to numb the stabbing pains of homesickness that inevitable arise when we think of how warm all our friends back home are). But what does one drink in Mexico? In Australia it would be a Pure Blonde, a XXXX Gold or maybe a cask of goon... Despite the price differences here my drinking tastes are still not a lot classier and include a plastic bottle of mystery alcohol that cost me less than a McDonalds Cheeseburger and the tequila that was being poured down my throat frequently.
• The language difference: It was a rare Australia Day that I couldn't walk around eavesdropping on conversations and hear "Oi what a mad cunt! Awww Davo's going for it again, fuckin' sick as mate" regularly (I tried my best to manage a spanish version of such trash but it just wasn't the same). The sound of Spanish floating through the air was a strange sound this Australia Day.

So we enjoyed a night full of festivities and frivolity. For many, it didn't really matter that it was Australia Day, a party is a party right? Of course the Aussies were out in full swing, with a horrifying rendition of Advance Australia Fair, a tube of Vegemite and constant checking of the Hottest 100 that nobody could hear over the rambunctious crowd. Some douchebag decided that the Hottest 100 was "shit" and decided to change the music to some reggaeton trash (because everyone loves to hear some clown crapping on about beating his ho) which I must admit pissed me off. But when it came time to clear out the party, what song kills a party better than "I still call Australia Home" (oh yes! we did!). All in all it was a fun party, almost like a birthday with the opportunity to be the shining centre of attention for one party.


ANZAC Day party? Do we really need an excuse to drink here in Cholula or have a party.

Journey to the land beginning with Q...

So it was a Friday afternoon. I was sitting on Facey feeling particularly sorry for myself after losing my bus money and watching my highly anticipated trip to Guadalajara (and the town called Tequila) go down the shitter. I was thinking to myself, 'now what the fuck am I supposed to do this weekend?' When a miracle popped up in the form of a a message from Lilly-pollas, inviting me to come on a journey to a mysterious unknown town. When I replied "does a bear shit in the woods?" she told me "great! Now get your ass to la casa Marie (and Stefan) pronto!" So I raced and I raced as fast as my little legs would take me and arrived at Marie's to a group of excited adventurers. Bear in mind I was still a little bit drunk and after being whisked away before the opportunity arose to shower I looked a little something like this:

That is not a bruise by the way but the cosmetic remnants of a big night (seems I didn't molest anyone QUITE enough this time). But I digress. So we made our way to the bus station in Puebla only to find that our perfectly laid plans (which I had no idea of pretty much the duration of the trip) had to be altered because of bus schedules and other BS of the like. So Gabriela Wart bought herself a ticket to a town with a name beginning with Q, which took almost 2 days of constant reminders to finally remember the name as Queretaro!

So after a nice long 4 hour bus ride enjoying our FREE SNACKS we arrived in Q-town with no idea what to do or where to go. We walked around for what seemed like hours (but was really only about 30 minutes) trying to find a place to stay but also ooh-ing and aah-ing at the wonderful city. Q-town is BEEYOOTEEFULL! I would wank up my description with superlatives and heinous cliches but it would just sound like shit. But put it this way, I have seen many a plaza, church, plaza de armas, tree lined street, mariachi band and cobblestone street in my life; but I would have to say that in this place, around every corner there was something new, pretty and interesting. Even a hardened old croak like me (who doesn't really have much of an eye for beauty) was astonished. So we finally found a hotel (ooh la dee dahhh a hotel! How FANCY!) that was good for 4 people and didn't have us haemorrhaging TOO much of our hard earned pesos and we ventured out into the night.

Actually it was probably about midnight before we ventured out so there was none of this pretty sunset crap yet. The first stop was for tacos. And boy did we dig into those delicious tacos (made even more delish by the fact that it cost us $20 pesos for 4 of them!), we just didn't stop! And we didn't! After our midnight taco hit we wandered around looking for a drinking establishment. To my utmost delight the first we found happened to be a karaoke drinking establishment. After bringing down the house with our 3 songs (and several beers) we stumbled on back to our hostel to enjoy the luxury after a big day.

The next day could be characterised by many things. One of the main was the food! We began our day with a cheap and absolutely massive breakfast before heading off on a stroll around the city. We passed colonial buildings, cobblestone streets and then stumbled upon a market. It was of course just your standard run of the mill Mexican Mercado (which if you've never been to one is pretty cool... even if you have its an interesting experience). Full of colours, freshly slaughtered animals that still resemble their previous living state, costumes, clowns and much much more. After the market we continued walking through the city, finding many wonderful places, scoffing our gobs along the way and generally enjoying a pleasant gay old afternoon.

That afternoon while the others were buying rubbish in yet another market, I managed to get myself very lost. In my confusion a lovely boy by the name of Jony started talking to me and even offered to buy me an icy-pole. We agreed to meet up later that night (more out of my politeness/inability to say no/the fact that he had bought me an icypole. After finding the crew and going again for some more tacos (at the same place as the previous night) we met up with Jony and went out to an 80s bar. We sipped our Coronas and listened to the sweet sounds of the 80s while Jony probably began to regret joining us when he realised how strange we all were. When it came time to leave and head out to a real club and boogie our friend paid THE ENTIRE TAB before we could even get out our money. Despite our objections he insisted, and lead us to a Salsateca! Except of course he had no idea. After a wild goose chase around the streets of Q-town at 2am we decided that it was probably the end of the night for us (and that our so called 'local friend' was completely clueless as to the nightlife of the town).

The next morning we looked something like this. In true piggy style we headed out for a buffet breakfast and scoffed our faces (otra vez) whilst enjoying a friendly debate about god knows what. After, we took a stroll around the city (again), discovering many new plazas that we hadn't seen before, as well as a lovely park, where we were 'lucky' enough to hear what sounded like marching band practice/a battle of the marching band between 2 diferent bands. I say 'lucky' because there is only so much one can handle horns and trumpets on a sunny Sunday arvo at the park without feeling just a little homicidal. But once they stopped (maybe someone else was feeling the same way as I was and did something) it was a pleasant afternoon in the park for our last day of our voyage.






Tired, satisfied and relaxed, we finally got a bus back to Puebla. So the first journey outside Mexico City and Puebla wasn't exactly the booze fest in Guadalajara that I had anticipated, but it was a fun weekend with some wicked peepz and good food (and LOTS of it). And only a few handfuls of fart jokes, inappropriate conversations and poo references.

Why Alcohol is Evil

Welcome Stalkers/bored people/Mummy to my blog! So I know I told a lot of people when they asked me "Hey Gabby, are you going to blog?" that blogging was for self obsessed narcissists with no life and no real friends... Well here we are!


So everybody in the world already knows alcohol is the devil's drink. It turns normally lovely, intelligent, coherent people (just for the record I'm not referring to myself here... even at the best of times I am a mess) into nightmarishly loud, vulgar and irresponsible people... so basically it brings the population down to my level.

But let me talk about Thursday night. For me, Thursday nights are like Friday nights for the rest of the suckers who have something to do on Friday mornings. In this case, it was the end of the week and to top it off it was the Comic Book Party, the first big University party of the semester... (well official one anyway... definately not the first time Gabby the Alcoholic has come out to party in Cholula). So somehow the Comic Book theme was interpreted by us to mean "Superheroes," and these amazing superheroes started the night with some cheap clear alcohol and a few "Never have I evers" to get the party started/get to know eachother...

But I digress... Wasn't the point of this blog to inform the world of the evils of alcohol and hopefully impart upon the impressionable youth a positive and healthy message.

#1: Alcohol makes even the most awful music enjoyable:
"Oh em geee I looove David Guetta, omgzzz lets dance!" ... Its true! Normally I will avoid (boycott even) any shop, restaurant, fast food outlet that pumps out such rubbish house/R&B type noise as what was blaring all night that fateful Thursday. But add 10 parts alcohol and one part dignity and I'm dancing like a crazed teenager to music that would normally make me vomit all over myself.

#2: Once you pop you can't stop:
Now this isn't a subtle (or... even a non subtle drug reference), alcohol is one of those things that you can't get enough of. Case in point: you're dancing away to Lady Gaga screaming to the poor boy next to you "THIS MUSIC ROXXX" and he offers you a super strong drink from the bottle (ohhh yes Aussies... the drinking scene is MUCH more intense and unregulated than back home) ... Should I drink more? Hell no! But I'm drunk, so who cares. Bring it on... more is better... until...

#3: Alcohol makes you kiss strange boys:
"Is that all!?!" you ask. "At least ya didn't shag him!" ... Yes, I can see what you're thinking... Big Deal. But unfortunately the only thing worse than making out in a dark corner with someone you've never seen or met before is shoving your tongue down the throat of somebody who seems to appear at EVERY SINGLE PARTY that you attend. Cholula is too small to go around pashing the masses... It will certainly make the next fiesta a little weird

#4: Alcohol makes you molesta people:
Anglophones, before you call me a creep, a pedo and a loonie, hear that molesta means annoy in Spanish! (gosh that could have made for a few awkward explanations) Normally when I am sober I am 100% unannoying, but give me some alcohol and I'm pestering everyone in the club with my rants. No doubt some of you have been victims in the past of such verbal diarrhoea, and to all of those who have suffered, my apologies.

#5: "But I hate whiskey!!" ... not after 10+ drinks you don't:
Thank you to the lovely lad who held the whiskey bottle up while amber liquid trickled down my throat. It seems that after a few drinks I am indiscriminate about my taste in alcoholic beverages, method of consumption... pretty much anything

#6: Alcohol makes cigarettes seem really cool:
There's nothing better than waking up to the fresh smell of ciggie smoke on your pillow the next morning (or in my case afternoon). And being legally allowed to smoke inside bars doesn't help the urge either.

#7: Those pesky calories that sneak up on ya:
And I'm not talking about those that are contained in the drinks themselves (for me... they are a necessary evil and cannot be avoided) but those 4:30am tacos on the way home. That's right, in the 200m walk between my bed and the club there are about 3 taco stands that prey on the drunk. And you eat one. And it was soo good that you have another one. Then another one. And then you remember the avocados you have in the fridge and buy a packet of tortillas to wolf down when you get home. And why not those skittles too? Oh yes, I will be fat when I return. Please still love me anyway.

#8: Forgetfulness, loser, "what happened to that $500 pesos?"
And in the process of being drunk $500 pesos disappeared from my bag, resulting in a fun "FUCKING FUCK SHIT" moment when I got home. How did it go missing? Who knows? Did it tumble out when I flung my jacket from my bag? Or was it stolen? Or did I give it to the man without legs on the side of the road? (unlikely... I am stingy as hell when it comes to charity). But what I do know is that I am a fiddy down the shitter. Meaning goodbye bus money for Guadalajara! Goodbye journey to the town called Tequila.

And all I can say is that, it could have been worse. Much worse. At least I didn't wake up in a gutter, end up with any injuries, vomit, hate myself (too much) the next morning, wake up in a strange place, not wake up at all, have a killer hangover, lose my bag, lose my key, lose my crocs, lose my dignity (well... not too much of it), wet my bed, bite anybody, commit a crime, get myself arrested... Ohh and the list goes on. In fact... I think I did pretty well for myself on Thursday!