Category Archives: Inspired

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aenean commodo ligula eget dolor. Aenean massa. Cum sociis natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus.

The View from the Dentist’s Chair

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan

The title is misleading because I am writing not from the dentist’s chair, but from the patient’s chair, lying completely flat, head a little lower than my feet which is an excellent way of exacerbating a gastric condition known as reflux of which I have been suffering as late.

I am ‘in for’ a root canal, which in the formerly white city of Mérida is called by its much more elegant moniker endodoncia and can cost you between $1500 and $1900 according to the dentist and the tooth in question. I had one just a few weeks ago to celebrate my 47th birthday (thereby ensuring that there would be no birthday ‘lunch’ the following day) The $1500 was spent on what I believe is called a ‘canine’ tooth; it’s kind of on the corner between those front teeth and where the molars begin. Yesterday, the $1900 job, on a long-rooted molar located in the upper left hand part of my long suffering mouth.

I notice, as I am lying here, that the concept of dental hygiene with regards to my – ie the patients’ – hygiene, seems to be much more relaxed than I remember it having been in places like Canada, where I remember the dentist sitting like a surgeon, his gloved hands in the air while his assistant passed him tools and bits and pieces from a metal tray that had been removed from a micro-wave like contraption that apparently sterilized the equipment between patients.

Now before my critics pounce on me and tell me to just go home – and yes there are some out there who have a selective reading capacity and insist that everything I write is negative – I will have you know that I am not criticizing anything and that it is all observation. Note the preceding paragraph: “seems to be much more relaxed than I remember” This is not saying “those filthy third world swine”. Do you see the difference? Then, read on. If not, please leave now by clicking here.

So I am lying there, lightly coughing occasionally to keep everything in it’s place gastrically and thinking these little thoughts.

Now this is not the first time I have had thoughts along these lines. I have been to ‘the dentist’ on many occasions during my 20 year extended visit to Merida. This hygiene-related observation extends itself to all the dentists, from the general teeth cleaning visits to root canal specialists.

I have always wondered where the sterilization equipment is. I look for it and it is nowhere to be found (or seen, at least). I know it’s there, but I can never see it. It would make me feel so much better if i could see it, filled with a tray of shiny, sharp clean steel pointy things, ready to be used on me. Just me!

And when you are lying in the dentist’s chair, waiting for the next piece of steel to be inserted or perhaps the doctor is taking a phone call and you are unwillingly listening in like some inert piece of furniture as he plans his/her weekend or gives instructions to her/his maid at home, you have time to look up and observe that there are other life forms in the room with you, and their homes are the cobwebs in the corners. Perhaps you have a view of the air conditioning unit and you make a mental note to remind the doctor later to have someone clean the alarming volume of dust accumulating on the vents.

Then there is that tube that suctions your thickened saliva from your mouth. It’s hanging there from your lower lip doing it’s thing on auto-pilot, a little like those automated pool cleaners that roam about in your pool sucking up dirt and leaves. You can watch the saliva leave your mouth and travel along the tube. I always wonder: at which moment does the tip of that thing get changed and put on the tray to be sterilized?

This thought also occurs to me when the drilling starts. The little drill bits.

Then we have the whole glove thing, which seems to be for the dentists protection really. Watch the hands:

  • Grab drill handle.
  • Drill in mouth.
  • Open drawer.
  • Take out piece of film for x-ray.
  • Place film in patients mouth.
  • Move arm of x-ray machine into position.
  • Insert fingers in patients mouth to hold film in place.
  • Remove film.
  • Move x-ray equipment arm.
  • Turn off overhead light.
  • Go to another room and do god knows what (with the gloves on the hands).
  • Come back.
  • Turn on and adjust overhead light.
  • Take sharp steel thing from tray.
  • Insert fingers in mouth.
  • Poke around. Etc.

Then there is the assistant, perhaps a dentistry student from a local university (yesterday I had two, watching my open mouth and talking about their puppy). No gloves. No mask. Again watch the hands:

  • Doctor asks for something.
  • Open drawer.
  • Rummage through stuff.
  • Hold up different shiny steel things and ask doctor “this one?”.
  • Put most back in drawer.
  • Close drawer.
  • Hand shiny steel thing to doctor who inserts it into where your root used to be.
  • Scratches her chin.
  • Grabs suction tube and sucks up some saliva.
  • Goes next door for something.
  • Comes back.
  • Another look around the drawer.
  • Another piece to the dentist, who inserts it into you.
  • Scratches her head.
  • Etc.

So these are my thoughts as I am lying there. Thinking of bacteria, of germs and things like that which I shouldn’t worry about really because nothing ever comes of worrying, right? And I haven’t caught anything really bad in all my visits to the dentist over the years. And they have all been friendly, accessible and inexpensive compared to the rigidly expensive system in Canada. Maybe I am just becoming more and more Mexican as time goes on and my immune system, like many Mexicans, is so much stronger than that of a recent arrival because of the resistance built up over time. Still, in the back of my mind, I wonder…

Comment on the Mexican Psyche

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan, Politics

Please note that a) this text is in Spanish; b) it was not written by me – I would have been forcibly expelled from the country); and c) it is taken from an email that was sent around when the protests against the CFE (Comision Federal de Electricidad) were taking place and is an answer to an mass email aasking everyone to turn off their lights at a certain time to ‘send a message’. This text has been published before, probably even by me, but is still worth re-reading from time to time.

Fox was still in power. Just change the names and everything else will still continue to be true.

Lamentablemente creo que, más que apagar luces, debemos encendernos nosotros.

La creencia general anterior era que Zedillo no servía.
La creencia general actual es que Fox no sirve.
Y, cuando pase el tiempo, la creencia general será que el que venga después de Fox tampoco estará sirviendo para nada. Por eso estoy empezando a sospechar que el problema no está en lo ladrón que haya sido Salinas o en lo bocón que sea Fox. El problema esta en nosotros.


Nosotros como pueblo. Nosotros como materia prima de un país.Porque pertenezco a un país donde la “viveza” es la moneda que siempre es valorada tanto o más que el dólar.Un país donde hacerse rico de la noche a la mañana es una virtud más apreciada que formar una familia a largo plazo basada en valores y respeto a los demás.

Un país donde una persona tapa la salida del garaje de una casa, y, si el afectado toca el claxon para llamar la atención del abusivo y hacer que aparezca a retirar su vehículo, entonces esa persona llega, se molesta y le reclama a uno la presión y el ruido, como si el infractor fuese uno y no ellos.

Un país donde un par de señoras pueden recorrer todo un supermercado, y, mientras compran, hablar pestes de la moral del gobierno y del incumplimiento de las leyes, y de lo terrible de tales o cuales medidas, pero después, a pesar de que su carrito tiene 27 artículos, se hacen tontas y se meten disimuladamente en la cola que es “para un máximo de 10 artículos” y si alguien osa reclamarles o quejarse ante el gerente queda ante ellas y ante los demás como un soplón, solo por intentar hacer cumplir una norma tan sencilla. Y si es la cajera quien les señala que deberán pasar a otra caja, inician un diálogo recriminatorio: “¿ves?, justo lo que veníamos comentando, por eso está este país así, todos son unos flojos , etc.”

Pertenezco a un país donde, lamentablemente, los periódicos jamás se podrán vender como se venden en Estados Unidos, es decir, poniendo unas cajitas en las aceras donde uno paga por un solo periódico y saca un solo periódico dejando los demás donde están. Porque si se vendieran así, El Reforma y El Universal quebrarían en solo 3 meses.

Pertenezco al país donde las empresas privadas son papelerías particulares de sus empleados deshonestos, que se llevan para su casa, como si tal cosa, hojas de papel, bolígrafos, carpetas, marcadores y todo lo que pueda hacer falta para la tarea de sus hijos y, además, utilizan los equipos para lo mismo, las tareas y sus asuntos personales.


Pertenezco a un país donde la gente se siente triunfal si consigue volarse el Cablevisión del vecino, donde la gente inventa a la hora de llenar sus declaraciones de Hacienda para no pagar o pagar menos impuestos, donde a Carlos Salinas no le reclama ningún medio el que lo estén viviendo fuera del país disfrutando de lo que robó.

Donde nuestros diputados y senadores trabajan dos días al año (y cobran todos los demás como altos ejecutivos) para aprobar una reforma (miscelánea) fiscal al vapor que lo único que hace es hundir al que no tiene, joder al que tiene poco y beneficiar como siempre a unos cuantos que son los que tienen (ellos por ejemplo).

Pertenezco a un país donde las licencias de conducir y los certificados médicos se pueden “comprar”, sin hacerse exámenes ni nada.

Un país donde, desde hace 40 años, un vehículo sufre más daños y sale peor parado después que es recuperado por la policía que cuando lo roban los ladrones.

(ESTA CITA LA HAGO CON ABSOLUTA CERTEZA QUE ES CIERTA, SI SE ACUERDAN ME ROBARON MI TSURU HACE 2 AÑOS Y APARECIO 40 DIAS DESPUES EN ESTADO TAN LAMENTABLE QUE MI PAPA LO TUVO QUE VENDER COMO CHATARRA. Y ESO QUE EN LA HOJA OFICIAL DE LA DEMANDA SE ASEGURA QUE EL CARRO SE ENCONTRO 2 DIAS DESPUES)

Un país donde cualquier persona puede hacer una fiesta y poner música a volumen majadero toda la noche, sin que haya nadie que proteste ni autoridad alguna que les haga apagar esa música ni siquiera a las cinco de la mañana.

Un país de gente que está llena de faltas, pero que disfruta criticando a sus gobernantes, sean inútiles, o sea Fox, porque criticar a los inútiles o criticar a Fox, crea una ilusión psicológica que aparentemente eleva la estatura moral y espiritual del que critica.

Mientras mas le digo rata a Salinas, mejor soy yo como persona, a pesar de que apenas ayer me consiguieron todas las preguntas del examen de matemáticas de mañana. (¡Qué vivo soy!)

Mientras más le digo falso a Fox, mejor soy yo como mexicano, a pesar de que apenas esta mañana me fregué a mi cliente a través de un fraude de cien mil pesos que él me dio de enganche como preventa de un inmueble.

No. No. No.

Ya basta. Como materia prima de un país, tenemos muchas cosas buenas. Pero todavía dejamos mucho que desear. Esos defectos, esa “viveza”congénita, esa deshonestidad a pequeña escala que después crece evoluciona hasta convertirse en casos de escándalo como Óscar Espinoza o Mario Villanueva; esa calidad humana que en realidad es falta y carencia de toda verdadera calidad humana, eso, más que Salinas o que Fox, es lo que nos tiene real y francamente jodidos.

No voy a apagar las luces, lo siento.

Porque, aunque Fox renunciara hoy mismo, el próximo presidente que lo suceda tendrá que seguir trabajando con la misma materia prima defectuosa que, como pueblo, somos nosotros mismos.

Y no podrá hacer nada, igual que no hicieron nada los mediocres, igual que no esta haciendo nada Fox.

No, gracias. No apago nada. No tengo ninguna garantía de que el gritón de Diego o el mustio de Madrazo lo puedan hacer mejor. Y mientras nadie señale un camino destinado a erradicar primero los vicios que tenemos como pueblo nadie servirá. Ni sirvió Salinas, ni sirvió Zedillo, ni sirve Fox, ni servirá el que venga.

O ¿qué?, necesitamos traer a un Pinochet, para que nos haga cumplir la ley a la fuerza y por medio del terror y la dictadura?

A ver si así, cumplimos y hacemos cumplir las leyes desde las más elementales hasta las de nuestra Constitución .

Aquí hace falta otra cosa. Algo más que cacerolazos, apagones o cohetones.

Y mientras esa “otra cosa” no empiece a surgir desde abajo hacia arriba, o desde arriba hacia abajo, o del centro pa´ los lados, o como quieran, seguiremos igualmente condenados, igualmente estancados.

Es muy sabroso ser mexicano, y vivir a “a la mexicana”. Pero cuando esa mexicanidad autóctona empieza a hacerle daño a nuestras posibilidades de desarrollo como Nación, ahí la cosa cambia…

Lo siento. Pero no apago nada. Suerte con su apagón. Pero creo que, de todos modos, como país de verdad igual hemos estado a oscuras los últimos 70 o 90 años.

Ojalá que cambiemos todos, porque si no, cambiar de Presidentes no cambiará nada. Porque cambiar de Presidentes, sin que cambiemos nosotros, es lograr que nada cambie jamás.

Piénsalo, y, si te cuadra, reenvíalo. Es un mensaje para todos los mexicanos

YA BASTA DE QUE “EL QUE NO TRANZA NO AVANZA”!!!! TENEMOS MUCHO QUE HACER EN VEZ DE ESTAR PENSANDO EN ABSURDAS PROTESTAS QUE SOLO MANCHAN LA IMAGEN DE UN PAIS BASTANTE DESGASTADA………….

Chichen Itzá

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan
A visit to Chichen Itzá recently was very interesting, since I hadn’t been there in probably 10 or more years!
Turns out you can no longer climb the Castillo – with all those tourists visiting (some estimates put the annual figure at 30 million!) there would be just too much erosion. Back in the day, you not only could climb the Castillo and admire the wonderful view that probably was enjoyed only by the Mayan priests but also go inside the Castillo to see the jade eyes of the jaguar found in its interior. Anyone who had the chance to climb those claustrophobic, humid one-person-at-a-time steps will remember the experience fondly, although the wet smell of all that sweaty humanity was a bit of a turn-off.
Also, the sellers of kitschy souvenirs were outside the ruins, not on the actual grounds as they are now. This is a real distraction when trying to appreciate the grandeur of the ruins; having someone in your face waving a carved mask saying “my fren my fren, goo price for jew” or “here fren” as if you were some kind of dumb ass that was going to obey this canine-like command. Now they are all over the site, which might not be a bad thing if it was a lot more discreet, a little more authentic and they actually sold things made in the region by locals. But to see those mass-produced fleece blankets with the aztec warrior waving in the hot sun was a little jarring.
Think of the money that pours into this site with all those visitors! Walking around the ruins and the entrance lobby, stores and nearby “market” you can only think how awful it looks. Not the ruins, all the crap around it. The restaurants and little ‘shops’ look like they were designed by a … I can’t think of anyone suitably unqualified. They are not designed at all. Ugly, half-painted concrete, dirty, run down and staffed with indifferent sallow faced employees. No money has been invested in the infrastructure for decades, or so it seems.
I sat in the market area, where you leave the site, watching 2 out of 3 red-faced tourists stumble on the uneven paving stones while glancing over their shoulders at the depressing spectacle of 4 or 5 half-naked Mayan men and boys wearing plastic feathers and half-heartedly performing pieces of a ceremony. Under a tree, a guayabera-wearing young man with a microphone was announcing that the show was free, that people could take pictures at no cost, that the show was about to start, that the show was a real Mayan ceremony, it would start in a few minutes. He narrated what they were doing, which seemed to be the same thing over and over again, in preparation for the show that would start ‘eena few meenits”. It never really started and no one really took any photos. It was a joke, like the Indian shows at some tourist stop in the US or Canada, or the Aztec dancing at the traffic lights in Mexico City. Is this what the Mayan culture has evolved to? Doesn’t anyone see how pathetic this all looks and feels?
While the ruins at Chichen Itzá are as imposing and majestic as ever, it is extremely difficult to reconcile the obvious culture and knowledge of the ancient builders of this impressive site with the mediocrity and complete lack of good taste or sensitivity aka culture of the modern chimpanzees charged with the administration of Chichen Itzá today.

Great Service – Gasolinera Maya

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan

Here is a note about some really nice folks – the staff at the Gasolinera Maya Pemex station on the highway to Progreso (the one that has a crappy 7-11 on the premises).

This gas station has always struck me and my better half as being leagues above the norm in customer service. When you arrive at the pump, the greet you with a smile and “welcome to the Gasolinera Maya” and they actually look like they are happy to see you. They are also one of the first gas stations with a remote credit card terminal so you can pay with debit or credit cards from the comfort of your vehicle.

Yesterday, I filled up one car and paid with my debit card. 2 hours later, I stopped by again with a second vehicle and had that one filled up as well. When I tried to pay with the debit card, there was a communication problem with the terminal and, after two attempts, I tried with the credit card. None went through. Not having any cash on me and with no ATM around, I half-jokingly said, “well, you know who I am, I can come back later and pay you”. And guess what? That’s exactly what happened! These people just asked me to sign a small slip of paper, leave my name and number and to come back later when the terminal was working again!

I have got to say I was blown away by their confianza and goodwill! I would rate their customer service, on a scale of 1 to 10, at a solid 10. Don’t subject yourself to indifferent or bad service (Servicio Campestre, across from Sam’s is a consistent and depressing -1 on the service scale, for example) by buying your gasoline anywhere else!

Yucatan Dictionary Finally Available for Purchase

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan

Admittedly it has taken a while and it’s not exactly Pulitzer Prize material, but once has to start somewhere, right?

Well the handy and always fun to read NotTheNews Yucatan Dictionary is finally available for purchase. This way, all those of you who have written me to ask how they can help keep NotTheNews and that Casual Restaurant Critic going, have a way to contribute to the cause!

The link to preview and then of course purchase the book is: http://www.lulu.com/content/1242362#

Thanks to all!

Bienvenidos!

Casual Restaurant Critic, Inspired, Life in the Yucatan, Nada que Ver, Politics

The Casual Restaurant Critic welcomes you to this Casual Restaurant Critic Blog.

This will be a repository (is that a word) for my good friend and collaborator, the Casual Restaurant Critic. He will continue to review Merida’s restaurants, both great and awful, and give insight into where you should divest yourself of both money and time, while ingesting calories.

Buen Provecho!

Not-The-News UpDate!

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan

For those of you still reading, my Not-The-News has once again been updated. You can read it by clicking on the Apr/May 2007 button at www.not-the-news.com . There you will see that it’s not all negative and critical. Most is, but not all. If you are one of the lucky millions that hasn’t read the back issues, those are located at www.geocities.com/elmaloso.geo.

Enyoy!

(Espanish Version) Si eres de esas curiosas personas de muy buen gusto que todavia leen lo que se me va ocurriendo, puedes disfrutar la ultima actualizacion haciendo clic en el botón que dice Abr/Mayo en www.not-the-news.com Verás que no todo es critica. Mucho, pero no todo. Para articulos de gran interés para los que disfrutan el vivir en Yucatán, los archivos anteriores a este 2007 están en www.geocities.com/elmaloso.geo

Thanks and lets all vote for Cholo on Sunday!

Merry Christmas to All!

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan

To those of you still reading after all these years, THANK YOU and my wish for everyone is to have a peaceful and satisfying holiday season. It is very gratifying to know that I have made even the smallest difference in some of my reader’s lives, whether it was helping them find a great restaurant or convincing them that Merida, in spite of all its’ interesting quirks, would be a great place to buy a house, renovate it and enjoy all the many good things that the formerly white city offers.

I hope to be back in 2007 to continue this little online neurotic commentary on life in Merida!
Feliz Navidad!

Your Own Personal Driver in the Yucatan!

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan

It’s time I took my love of driving and exploring the Yucatan to the next level.

Personally, I like to rent a car when I travel. There’s nothing worse – to me – than being herded around like some sort of passive cow, having to adhere to someone else’s times and interests. Sometimes I like to just stop and have a coffee, buy some roadside peanuts, climb a hill that turns out to be a Mayan ruin or whatever.

But some folks don’t have the time or the inclination to rent a car themselves and don’t want to use public transportation. And they enjoy getting some clear answers to their questions on life in the Yucatan; objective opinions on what’s worth seeing and what’s a total tourist trap.

So. In between NotTheNews updates and Casual Restaurant Critic outings as well as regular work, I am going to offer this service – for a limited time to gauge the interest and demand – to those who want the convenience of a comfortable car with a knowledgeable driver AND the complete flexibility to do whatever they want, when they want.

The advantages are:

  • No waiting for a rental car or bus
  • No hassle with that rental car
  • No argument about the rate
  • No worries about damage waivers and insurance
  • No worries about gassing up before or after and where
  • No worries about getting lost
  • No worries about missing the bus
  • Flexible itineraries based on what YOU want to do and see and WHEN you want to do it
  • Being able to pick the brain on life in Yucatan from someone who has lived here for 19 years now
  • Getting to places off the beaten track that are not in most guidebooks (if any)

One of the things I want to specialize in is taking you to those wierd and wonderful, great and out of the way, known and unknown eateries that can be found in Merida that you might not get to if you were renting or bussing. Like La Susana Internacional in downtown Kanasin, home of possibly the World’s Finest Panucho. Hey I like to eat. What can I say.

Email me and we can discuss your travel plans for the Yucatan peninsula, if you will be based in – or visiting – the formerly white city of Merida.

Cheers and thanks for putting up with this totally commercial post!

Manual for Anarchy (by Jorge Alvarez Rendon)

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan
This is an editorial written by Jorge Alvarez Rendon for the Diario de Yucatan newspaper, which came out on Monday, October 23, 2006 that comments on the state of affairs in this fine country which seems to be rapidly falling into anarchy.

I thought it most pertinent and, as usual for anything written by this observer/writer, extremely well written and to the point. For Mexico is not just palm trees and cheap servants. There are things that anyone contemplating a move here should know; they just might take for granted that these little details, the solution of which would seem obvious and a done deal, were already taken care of. They are not.

I have tried to translate it as closely as possible to the original including the tone as well as the message.

For a little background, read up on recent events in the Mexican state of Oaxaca, the state of juvenile law in Yucatan and student protests in Mexico. The idea is not to alarm anyone, but to really alarm everyone, so that maybe a little pressure will make the authorities actually DO something.

W

———

Anarchy Manual

It’s wonderful and very healthy to be able to do whatever one wants, whatever one feels like doing. Here are some tips on how to go about doing just that:

The first tip is only for those who have their voter registration card, who have a penchant for social revindication and who are sick and tired of historical slights and inequalities.

Go shopping for a straw hat, a red bandana and a can of white spray paint. Get yourself a decent machete (you can buy a quality model just off the Calle Ancha del Bazar here in the formerly-white city of Merida) and head – together with another 200 like-minded persons – towards the city’s center. Make sure your that the timing of your procession coincides with that time of the day when downtown Merida’s traffic is at it’s horn-blaring, exhaust-spewing worst.

Once you are there, do whatever it is you have always wanted to do; don’t hold back or hesitate; let your thirst for justice run wild, unleash all your fury.

Overturning cars is good, setting busses on fire better; go ahead and spray paint graffitti on storefront windows and historical buildings, block access to public buildings, kidnap anyone who happens by and destroy anything belonging to the community you can get your judiciary hands on.

You need not fear punishment or the application of any law for that matter. The National Commission for Human Rights is there for you 24 hours a day. No government authority will even attempt to get in the way of your fun. We have spent far too many centuries in achieving this level of freedom of expression to have someone come and reprimand us ‘just because’.

Important Note: The mob is indispensable. Do not attempt this alone since this will result in you facing a judge and perhaps being sentenced to 15 years in jail.

The second tip is for those under the age of 17; adventurous, red-blooded youths suffering from misunderstandings great and small.

First, you must acquire a knife in the market known as Bazar Garcia Rejón, where rules regarding the sale of such artifacts are completely and happily ignored. After about a week, the idea is to stand on a street corner in your neighborhood with other under-age and resentful teens where you can show off your new weapon.

One night – any night will do – feeling a little offended, misunderstood or just in a bad mood, you insert blade of the afore-mentioned weapon into the lower abdomen of some person who happens to be nearby and that you don’t particularly care for very much, keeping the blade lodged there until the victim is most assuredly dead. When the Ministerio Publico (read police) arrive – if they do at all – it is important not to offer up any resistance and shed copious tears for all the injustices suffered in the past: abuse by parents and teachers, police brutality, globalization, a drug problem etc.

In no time at all, the victim will not be the stiff cadaver, in whose defense no one will speak, but you! We can bet that a psychologist will be dispatched to look into your case, a file will be started on you and a tutor assigned as well. All this will happen in the 48 hours after your detainment, after which you will be set loose so you can get on with your life, no worries. Isn’t it great this doing whatever we want?

The third tip is for disgruntled students unwilling to accept internal rules, statutes, federal laws and other minutae that tend to make one’s existence such ‘a drag’.

Get about 50 students together – either sex is fine – get an attitude happening and start making protesting gestures. The group isn’t complete without the six or seven students who have Shakira lyrics wallpapered on their brains and for whom ‘soneto’ is a Nestlé ice cream product.

Yell as loudly as possible about your rights as pubescents and the future of the country and remember as many old, communist-era protest chants as possible. “Si la leche es poca, al niño le toca” (if there’s only a little milk, give it to the children) “El hijo del obrero va primero” (the workers child comes first) etc.

Demand to be able to wear ear and nose rings, tattoos, pendants; color your hair and use any cosmetic you feel like. Insist on the use of cellular phones in class, sale of condoms in the school store. Your opinions must be absolutely respected, even if you demand this in language that otherwise might have been known as foul. Demand also more comprehension from school principals and counsellors. Praise the attitude of those teachers who are indeed, understanding, and do not hesitate to physically remove those teachers bold enough to attempt to restore some semblance of order. In the case of these, there is a formulaic approach that cannot fail: accuse them of sexual harrassment, of groping, of leering and lusting disgustingly. Go ahead and dare to do whatever you feel like. What could possibly happen to them that wouldn’t be for their own good? The crime of slander doesn’t even exit anymore in the penal code. You can defame someone, walk all over their reputation with big muddy boots, do whatever you want! The SEP (the federal Ministry of Education) will support you and the DIF (federal organism that oversees social programs for the young) will be most understanding.

Be happy