Monthly Archives: December 2008

Chair Genuises

My 11-year-old cousin in Aruba and her friend are a couple of cinematic geniuses. This one called “Two Chairs and a Love Song,” is the cream of their YouTube crop:

If you have time also check out piggybank industries. Its a profound examination of modern capitalism.


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Where’s Hiroshi!?

Donde Esta Hiroshi?

Donde Esta Hiroshi?

This story just keeps getting more awesome. The Associated Press reported today that when airport authorities went to look for Nohara in his usual hang out spot near the food court, he was nowhere to be found. After 117 days in the airport Nohara reportedly left with a woman who was seen visiting him a couple of times. Several Mexican publications have reported that the woman may be a distant family member and that he went to stay at her house in Del Valle, but I’m not buying it!
Just who is the mystery woman and where have they really gone? If anyone finds him and sends me a picture I’ll buy them a beer, heck make it two! An extra bonus tequila shot if you find him on New Years.

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Last Days in Wonderland (for now).

That picture of a Loretana wearing a t-shirt with her own face on it was the last picture I took before returning to Los Angeles after six months abroad. I couldn’t have asked for a better image to usher me out.
Loreto is an incredibly amazing place, with craggy red mountains that resemble Sedona and parts of the Grand Canyon, and its situated on the Sea of Cortes, which is home to dolphins, sea lions and a whole lot of delicious seafood. I don’t have anything snarky to say about it, and that says a lot.
My last day in Loreto was spent snorkeling near a pristine beach on Coronado island. I ended up getting stung by some microscopic jellyfish all over my body. Our panga captain said, “Shit, you need some vinegar.” As the deserted island contained no Oxxo, I just had to enjoy my hives.
My misadventure didn’t stop me from enjoying an early afternoon of strolling downtown Loreto. Calling that place charming is like calling Mexico City crowded – way too much of an understatement. I ran into face shirt girl at a quirky fruit stand that was decorated with coconuts carved into the shape of pirates. She willingly posed next to a pile of calbazas and told me she had the shirt custom made at the town’s last big fiesta. I need to come back and get my own shirt.
I ended up arriving at the airport way too early and had time to grab a beer at the improvised snack stand. My companions were a Mexican-American fight promoter and a gringo with a fresh golf tan. When the gringo asked the bartender for another shot of An-eh-ho, and if he had change for a $100 bill, I couldn’t help but interject.
“It’s An-ye-ho,” I said. “A very important word to know.”
I had forgotten that this man was on his way out of Mexico, and not just arriving like most of the other paisanos I’ve met over the past six months.
“And, why do you know how to say it?” he asked.
“Because I’m La Chilangabacha!”
Just kidding, I didn’t really say that. I just told him I’d been there for a while. The fight promoter flirted and probably judged me in all sorts of ways for being a single female drinking alone at a bar.
When it came time to board, it was incredibly hard for me to put down that dos x and and follow Mr. An-eh-ho on to the plane, but I did. It was a pleasant flight and I kept wanting to ask the flight attendants questions in Spanish. After I walked through customs at LAX, I was expecting a parade of blonds to greet me in the arrival lounge, but instead found the waiting rail to be lined with people shouting into their Blackberries in Chinese. Oh L.A., how I’ve missed you.

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Baja en Blanco y Negro

Whaddup Ya’ll? Chilangabacha has fled the city and is taking a temporary furlough in Baja y Alta California. Stay tuned for some uh… Gabachilanga action.


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Fight For Your Right to…Culture?

Last week the Mexican Senate unanimously voted to go ahead with a plan to give Mexicans a constitutional right to culture. If all goes as planned and they get the additional 17 votes they need from local governments in March, the senators agreed to add a ninth paragraph to article four of the constitution to establish that every person “has the right to access to culture and to enjoy all of the goods and services offered by the State as well as the right to excercise cultural rights.”

PRI member Francisco Arroyo Vieyra had this to say:

“Princes are ephemeral; creators are forever.”

What about guys who change their name to symbols and sing about raspberry berets Francisco, eh? Put that in your pot and stir it!

It all seems a bit vague to me, like when you ask your boss when you’re going to get your check and they say “ahorita,” and you’re all, “Uhhhh, ahorita in 15 minutes or ahorita in a quarter to never?”

In defense of the senators, the citizens of Mexico City already have access to some of the coolest public art in the world and can even go to the torture museum for free on Sundays.

In celebration of the new amendment, here are some of my favorite examples of access to culture in DF:

Un Güey chillin on a piece of public art along Reforma         *img via Getty Images

Un Güey chillin' on a piece of public art along Reforma.

Diego Rivera's "Fuente de Tlaloc" outside of the former distribution chamber of Mexico City's Lerma River water system. The building in the background is home to Rivera's mural  "El Agua, Origen de la Vida."

Diego Rivera's "Fuente de Tlaloc" outside of the former distribution chamber of Mexico City's Lerma River water system. The building in the background is home to Rivera's mural "El Agua, Origen de la Vida."

Shakira performs a free concert for 200,000 of her biggest fans in Mexico Citys Zocalo in 2007

Shakira performs a free concert for 200,000 of her biggest fans in Mexico City's Zocalo in 2007

*First picture by Getty Images, third via

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Orale, there’s a Chilangabacho in your cabinet!

Ahua! He left his sombrero on the porch.

Ahua! He left his sombrero on the porch.

Move over Daniel Calhoun Roper, get out the way Lewis Lichtenstein Strauss , come January Chilangabacha will officially have a new all-time favorite Secretary of Commerce. Bill Richardson may have been born in Pasadena and gone to school on the East Coast, but the fact he went to public school in Mexico City until he was 13 years old qualifies him as straight up Chilangabacho, güey. Here’s the 411 according to Time Magazine:

Richardson did however actually spend his early years in Mexico City, where his mother and father, a prominent American banker, were financially very well off, with high-ranking Mexican politicians and businessmen dropping by as frequent houseguests. But unlike with other American families in the city, Richardson went to public school, lived in the Mexican part of town (i.e. not Polanco or that one Chinatown street in el Centro, or in the basement of the U.S. Embassy), and hung out with the Mexican kids, leading him to struggle in defining his national identity. “I remember thinking, I’m just a kid. It’s not fair that I’m a Mexican and an American trapped in one body. I could speak English, but I thought and dreamt in Spanish.”

I love it! A Mexican and an American trapped in one body. How did they decide what to eat for dinner? Ba-dum-ching. Thanks, I’ll be here all week.

Another reason to give props to Guillermo Hijo de Ricardo is the creative way he won the heart of his wife, Barbara:

Barbara Flavin and her family lived across the street from the school, and they had heard about the new student from Mexico with a vicious breaking ball. One afternoon Barbara saw Bill walking out of town. She offered him a ride back to school. The next January, Bill left a sombrero and a love note on her porch.

Don’t get any ideas, Cabrones. La Chilangabacha only responds to mixed tapes and plates of chilaquiles.

As a side note, the current Secretary of Commerce under George Bush, Carlos Miguel Gutierrez, also lived in Mexico City for a time, but he’s Cuban and used to sell Frosted Flakes for a living, so he’s not so chingón.

-Photo via

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Echando un Caldo de Pollo

I love you forever and ever.

I love you forever and ever.

If a Chilango (esp. one from Nessa) ever asks you if you’d like to “echar un caldo de pollo,” they’re not inquiring about your chicken soup recipe. They want to make out with you (or more). According to my sources on the street, this is a variation on the older phrase “echar un polvo,” literally “making dust,”  which means to have a quickie. I’m guessing the chicken soup version is referring to a quickie “lite,” but I could be wrong.

Since it’s perfectly acceptable to live with Mamí and Papí until you’re 37 years old, many jovenes take their make out sessions to the streets – or the metro, or in the case of this amorous pair, Chapultapec park. Most of the time they find a bench, but these guys were content with a little splendor in the grass.

I especially love it when I see a pair of teenagers slurping each other’s faces off on the metro stairs next to a dude with no legs playing the tambourine. It’s the pinnacle of Latin lovin’.

If anyone can provide clarification on this frase, please feel free to leave a Danny Tanner-like lecture in the comments. A girl (and her readers) need to know these things.


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