Different Strokes, for Different Folks

Yes, I'm back from Mexico, and it was rough.
I had been thinking of flying back to Mexico for a few years, so I grabbed an iPod, a can of maze, my laptop, my Swiss army knife and took off.
I was met by my mom, my aunt and my friend Kenya, everybody else was a no show (in the words of HST) "...and so much for friends."
My uncle had just gone through a tough surgery and I wished to stay in Mexico City, I was supposed to stay at Hugo’s place, but he flaked and for some reason I was not surprised. My second choice was staying with Jose Luis, but he wasn’t there either and while I know I can always knock on Alfredo’s door and I am always welcome it was past midnight, so I accepted to stay at Kenya’s.
From the airport it was straight to “Tacos El Gallito” still there as I remembered it. An “Alambre” was in order, a plate of steak, pork chops, bacon, ham, pastor (marinated pork, layered thin and cooked on a huge kebab) all chopped up into big chunks and covered in Oaxaca cheese… and a coke. Now that was heavenly. Then to Kenya's place, who was an excellent host.
Next day I woke up in latte desperation, where’s the closest Vivace , Ladro or a coffee shop to get a latte other than Starbucks? No such luck, here Starbucks has taken over, they are everywhere. So we went to breakfast at Vips (think Denny’s kicked up 10 notches) where I had some “Molletes con Chorizo” (4 french bread halves baked with refried beans, cheese, a mild red salsa and chorizo) and the “Salsa Ranchera” makes them sinfully good, bad ass enough to almost rival Eggs Blackstone at Glo’s on Capitol Hill.
Then off we went, looking for two of the best friends I have ever known; Gerardo “Kains” and Jorge Velez, which after an hour of driving in circles we finally found (the city has changed quite a bit) Jorge is one of the few I came looking to find, and once more it was hard to believe I was here, with my aquarian brother I love so much, that scoundrel. I also met with Ana Laura (Jorge’s sister and Gerardo’s wife and Marco (Jorge and Ana’s youngest brother, they are all Monica’s siblings) and the last time I saw them must have been some 16 years ago, funny how we still love each other like family, including their mom, "Betty" and it was great to see her doing as well as she is.
Starbucks (here they call 2% half & half) and the Caramel Lattes are almost decent. That same day we went to La Casa Azul in Coyoacan, to visit Frida Kahlo's house, where I saw her beds with mirrors on top, where "Fridita" painted pain as pain is.
That same night we went to a costume party, the next morning Jorge "flaked" and we ended up cancelling a 15 person breakfast (again, not surprised) and off we went to Mixquic, to celebrate the day of the dead. It was sad to see what a market it has become but we had a great time and the tacos were awesome, "Tacos de Suadero" steamed pork snout, ears, tongue, cheeks, eyes, skin and stomach with a side of deep fried pork skins, now this was the best meal I've had in a long time, and it was worth the ride. Then at night, back in Mexico City to see the celebrations downtown, at the main square "Zocalo" amongst a million folks with Kenya and Barbara as body guards, that's when the ride began to take a wrong turn, I felt tired and not so spunky.
Next morning I went to meet Jose Luis for lunch, at a Cantina, with a couple of friends of his and again, seeing that old friend was priceless, one of them joined me for a latte afterwards and that is when it happened. I felt dizzy, she walked me to a drug store and my HBP was 160/110 - Eureka, I have discovered that Mexico City stands at 7,349 FT and that combined with my Hypertense condition, salty fatty foods, high pollution levels and excessive excertion was about to kill me (mi stroke es su stroke) so I panicked, and I did what any Mexican Macho Man would do... I went to my mom's.
Tepoztlan is a beautiful yet strange town about which I will write at a later time, it stands at 6600 ft so I figured it would at least help. My mom's cardiologist prescribed a different HBP med and from then on I was bedridden.
Dizziness was unbearable and HBP wouldn't dip below 145/95, I got to see my friend Tao, who used homeopathy and acupuncture to alleviate things, eventually it seems like an additional HBP med did the trick and I got stable. The last few days went uneventful, just sick, visiting with my mom, my sister, her partner Victor, Tao and his wife. Eventually Kenya came to visit and stayed a couple of days, she drove me back to Mexico City and from there I flew back home.
Obama won, I'm back in Seattle, Richona picked me up from seatac, I'm home, I'm safe, my hbp is 122/84, it's ok ...wrong.
Very next day after a good night sleep I decided to walk down to the rite aid and get my HBP measured, it was good... 135/84 but I just had to do it again and it was then 119/84 so I freaked out and did what any American Macho Man would do, and went to Starbucks, feeling dizzy and thinking that a triple caramel latte would bring my hbp to normal levels... wrong again, the dizziness became unreal tournament vertigo, my heart shot out of control, I suffered a kramer vs kramer anxiety attack and by the time 911 arrived I was laying on the rite aid's side walk, holding to a garbage can... and after 5 hours I was admitted at the E.R. at Valley, where Doctor Krishna Adavand made it much. much better, Lauren, Wiwille and Richona showed up at the E.R. to check on me and as weird as it may seem it sure was the best welcome home party I've ever had, funny how things change as this rock rolls.
Now I'm back to normal, hypertense, with anti-anxiety meds, had a full check up, expired tabs, a fultanko'gas and I can't wait to get back to work.
(now I'm enjoying a latte at the new Vivace at Brix, skullcandy's on my head and life is smiling again, starting all over again.
Happy to be home
Proud to be an American
Hope has returned
and a black man is the president
My President.