Couple of weeks ago I was making my daily visit to Iranian.com. I was at work and was trying to do this fast so I can get back to work. Came across the little vacation memoirs of a guy and his wife in Spain [Siamack Salari's ”
They knew“]. He went on about how he fell off of beach chair, some gas escaped and the rest of the story made me laugh so hard that I could not explain my teary eyes to my co-workers.
I was in preparation of my short trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. My wife and I been married for ten years this July 3rd. We didn't want to spend too much time out of our vacation pool, so we decided on somewhere close by.
We had been to Mexico on different occasions but most of them to Tijuana, Mexico, which is right across the border from Southern edge of California. For those living in the Los Angeles is it's a hop skip and a jump to Tijuana.
We drove into Baja, Mexico, a few years back, which is a bit deeper into Mexican soil. Neither time were we that impressed. It is nothing like South of France, Spanish beaches, or anything close to Southern California beaches. Mostly dirt, poverty, and dirt.
We had heard a lot about Cabo and I envisioned something great, like a big resort with fun bars, loud music and just FUN. Boy I set myself up for this one.
It was dirt, poverty, and more dirt with a little bit of polish. Many American hotels, restaurants, and businesses were making loads of money from using Mexicans and profiting tremendously. It was amazing. Most of these nice hotels are on the main streets and a block behind it are dirt streets and homes made out of tin. The contrast was incredible. Not much of gray anywhere. There was black and there was white.
The depth of sadness in most local faces was unbearable. The same little kids we had seen in Tijuana were all over the streets, beaches and resorts selling the same type of gum, “Chiclets”. I lost count of how much money I gave these kids without buying a piece of gum. I told all of them, “this money is for you not for the gum”, hoping that they would put that money away for themselves. Most of these kids were 5,6, and 7years old.
On our last night there, we went to this restaurant that served food right on the beach. Really nice, good food and good music. It was the night of 4th of July and right after dark, sporadic fireworks were lighting up the skies around us with some diehard Americans wearing flaggy shirts cheering and screaming.
After paying off two or three gum kids and buying some pieces of silver for my wife, I noticed this cute little girl with her long hair pulled back into a ponytail and a beautiful white dress, covering her mouth and running inbetween the chairs. She came towards us and ran behind our table into a corner when I realized she was crying.
I thought someone must have yelled at her or said something to upset her. I pulled her towards me, and started wiping her tears with my napkin. At the same time asking her what was wrong. She wouldn't say and kept on crying. It took my wife and me a while to finally realize that she was scared of the fireworks, apparently she had never seen it or heard it.
Here we were sitting in an American restaurant, trying to tell a little local girl that the fake celebration of some kissass locals are good and fun and she shouldn't be scared.
By now my wife is being no help. She was all teary-eyed seeing my compassion for the little girl, who was clinging on to me and wouldn't let go. Thoughts of adopting this little girl or just whisking her away from all of this and taking her back to USA ran rampant through my head. Not having any kids, not wanting to have any kids, seeing her in her moment of need, brought out the fatherhood in me like I had never experienced.
As we went on in our little vacation, reading this book, “War and Globalisation” by Michel Chossudovsky, which I recommend everyone to read yet not on vacation, especially 10th wedding anniversary vacation, I noticed more and more of America's rape of Mexico and Mexicans. Here they are making millions using Mexicans and a little girl has to run the beach bare feet and cry under the glory of their 4th of July celebration. The oddness of the moment was and is heavy on my heart.
The book has answered all of my suspicions of what America has done in the world in the name of capitalization. It is perhaps the scariest book I have ever read. It is a constant reminder of, not only the fact that the White House knew about a September 11-like attack, they help set it up. All to pave a road to bomb Afghanistan, to pave passages for pipelines coming through from Kazakhstan, to predicting a military take over of Iraq towards world domination.
All of a sudden my anniversary, the nice hotel, all the good food we were consuming with fancy margaritas, and everything else didn't matter any more. Disappointment in humanity set in and now, late Sunday night after my trip I am thinking of the answer I will give my co-workers tomorrow, when they ask, “So, how was your trip?”
I hope the little girl is ok and will buy something nice for herself, maybe shoes.