Well, I’m off to Papalote to meet Claudia and the Canadian Jim, principals of the school. (Although Mum says it’s Claudia with all the power.) They want to place me in the eighth grade once more because the grades in Mexico are slightly different age-wise, but it’s a revelry I simply can’t comply to. If they do hold me back, I’ll just walk right into the freshman class and begin school with them. As it turns out, sixth grade is still elementary school here, and ninth grade is still middle school. Go figure, I’ll end up doing four years of middle school.
Today I finally ate breakfast and lunch! It felt weird, with two bits now I’m stuffed. We awoke early and rode off in the downpour to Papalote. It is going to be great there for us, with the orange and turquoise paint job it’s impossible to miss so we will have no trouble locating it on the first morning we walk to school. Jim is very nice and sociable, but both him and Claudia wasted no time explaining to Kira and I the difficulties we would face- all of us. They stressed that making it through December would be the most challenging part of the school year. I am giddy with excitement.
The rains are still upon us at this afternnon hour. Tonight at nine thirty I’ll arrive at Daisy’s house to drive with her, Dana, and Mum to a party ten minutes out of town at a space called Aluj (pronounced ah-looj). It runs until one or two am, depending on how drunk everyone is I’m guessing. Dana told Mum it’s a cultural thing, very European, for young kids to be out until daybreak and Mum, surprisingly, is fine with this party, if not a little uneasy about it. Maybe the beauty of this place and the diverse experiences it has to offer are wearing on her.
Kira and I hit the beach, where a sewage aroma was wafting about- must be all the rains- so we shortly thereafter walked back home. Mum approached me with the subject of the party that night, and let me tell you, it’s a short leash I’m getting these days, nothing like the bones she’s been throwing me all summer. She wants to go into the party to check out the scene, and I must admit I’m a little uneasy as to how she’ll feel about my soon-to-be acquaintances and future friends and peers; I have no evidence to feel cautious about the people, yet I am. Instincts? But whatever happens, I’ll do my best to make fun wherever I go.
In the twilight of my room, I am glad to report that the party was fine. Daisy told me to dress casually, which no one was, and all night my outfit got called “the girl from footloose”, which is honestly fine by me. I hung out with a nineteen year old named Justin most of the night, and he’s an absolute doll. We danced and DJed and basically just had a great time. I met so many people, I can scarcely remember any of their names, but one I can recall, a seventeen year old, Dario, seemed to like me a lot, so I hope good things will come out of that connection. In Mexico, people don’t shake your hand in a stiff gesture of hello, instead they embrace you and kiss your cheek. In a way, I kind of wish I had had more practice with that sentiment, because all night kids were kissing me cheek or my hand as a greeting, and when I would kiss them, sometimes I would totally miss the proper spot to peck hello and I’d end up to close too their mouth or too close to their neck. By the time a worried Mum decided to pick me up- twelve o’clock- still didn’t have the kissing thing down, because when Justin walked me out and kissed me goodbye, I stretched my neck to reach his cheek, but I’m pretty sure I ended up making out with his neck. Whatever, I’ll learn.