Promise of oil

I decide to try this restaurant that looks like a sports bar - lots of signs for beer, maybe it's a pub? Pubs deep fry, yes?

There is a lovely front area with tables and chairs, and the restaurant/bar itself sits back behind the outdoor area.

Inside, a beautiful young womon peers at me over the podium at which she is sitting. The first thing I notice about her is that she is wearing a peace symbol ring on her hand. hmmmm...

I take a deep breath and speak in Spanish "A question please?" She nods and I proceed, struggling to explain in my best Spanish (not these words exactly) I am looking for veggie oil - used - and would like to pick it up before they toss it.

She solemnly eyes me, watching my every word, her expression never changing. She has the amazing eyes of a mother deer on alert.

She answers me in perfect English.

We laugh together. I wonder how many times does this happen in the U.S. How many times does a person who does not speak English ask for help or for something in their pieced-together English (most likely much better than my pieced-together Spanish), and they get the answer in their own language.

Not often. More often they are made to feel small and stupid for not speaking the language. No one in Mexico, thus far, has attempted to make me feel stupid for speaking Spanish so poorly. Although I do feel small and stupid - and remember all the times I started learning Spanish and then never kept it up.

Instead people try their best to either understand me or to find that one person they know who will speak at least some English.

Lula (I think that is what she says her name is. I don't want to ask her to repeat it in case she changes it to something more manageable for my lazy tongue) is very interested in practicing her English and figuring out what the hell I'm doing, collecting this veggie oil.

She tells me a little regretfully that she just called the guy this past Saturday to come pick up their oil.

I am surprised someone comes to pick up their oil too. Is someone making biodiesel here in Mexico?

But when I ask her why this guy is picking up the oil, she says he's a farmer and he gives it to his pigs and cows and horses. I am doubtful. What horse eats oil? But she explains it is mixed in with their food.

Then she shocks me and says he pays 3 pesos a liter. I rush to assure her that I too will pay. It is her turn to looked shocked. She takes me into the kitchen, where a young man is working, and they point to the 20 liter container of oil that is only maybe two liters full.

She tells me on Saturday she will have oil for me! YEAH!

I take her to see my truck, the first visitor I've had in Hermosillo!!! I show her the veggie tank in the back so she can really believe me. She reads every part of the truck. Then I should her my home.

She really loves it. I wish I had my joiyssey cards ready. She would be the first person I give one to.

Lula invites me to come back that nite and party, eat, drink with everyone. I thank her and let her know that I am in class tonite. Then I shock her one more time and tell her I don't drink. She can't believe it.

She says "no drugs either"; no drugs.

She asks me what I do instead. I point to the skies, my truck, the clean fresh air. Breathe, I say, Live, Feel, Enjoy.

I don't think she believes me. I don't tell her I love womyn, which is what I also do instead. Womyn, life, and Mother Earth.

I will try to make cards and dig out my CodePINK buttons and bring them with me on ... ugh ... Saturday. I guess I'm committed to staying until Saturday. Oh well, off to clase!