My Sunday morning began at 7:00 am when my phone rang in its’ Miles Davis inspired tone to alert me that my dear husband was calling from Mexico.
Still mostly asleep, the response to my groggy “helllooo” was something like: “Guess where I am right now?”
“Umm, I don’t know” said I.
“Veracruz, and it’s muy chingon” said he. We’re both fluent in Spanglish, just to clarify, and chingon basically means “awesome” or “sweet” the way American youth use it.
Veracruz… I thought about a tropical paradise and started imagining the sand, aquamarine waters and the sort of lazily constructed, low-key Mexican tourism I imagine it to embody. I asked Fermin is he was at the beach as I heard something that sounded distinctly like a moped.
“Are you riding on a scooter right now?!” said I.
“No, I’m just walking in the calle,” he chuckled. Yeah, I guess that makes more sense. But half-asleep Laura isn’t always able to discern the feasibility of say, my husband talking on cell phone while driving a moped.
The best part is that Fermin sounded really happy. Apparently one of his cousins came into Libres, the smallish town where Fermin’s parents and family lives, yesterday asking if he wanted to drive to Veracruz, where Fermin at least had never been.
He said in 4-5 hours his cousin, cousin’s girlfriend and another friend were at the beach, playing in the ocean at three in the morning.
“You’ve never been to the ocean, have you?” I asked.
“Nope,” he said. I started asking more detail questions to better imagine the scene. He’s not good with the sort of intensely detailed tidbits that I am looking for in a description, so I left him alone.
Fermin is not the most adventurous person in the world. While I always want to go somewhere to have some new or exciting experience, he often prefers to do things he is familiar with, go to places he has already been. That’s why him loving Veracruz is really fun for me to hear. And he didn’t sound bored for the first time in a few weeks.
Now if only I were in Veracruz….