'hat's about it...

I DON’T know about you but I simply can’t take someone who wears a cowboy hat seriously.

Here in Mexico I’d say that about one in 10 men you meet will be wearing one. Proudly too.

They even do the tip of the cap thing when saying ‘hola’ in true Clint Eastwood style.

And I can’t help but smile or worse still, laugh uncontrollably.

I just want to call them “pardner” or say “yee har” when I agree with what they’re saying.

Sometimes I actually have to stop myself from asking “what have you come as?”

Seriously, it’s weird – simply because if you saw a man wearing a traditional cowboy hat walking down the street in England, he’d probably have a gang of tooled-up chavs behind him in close pursuit.

If you're really lucky you could get the chance to see someone wearing not only the hat, but also the boots, belt and hideously over-sized buckle, and leather waistcoat.

Oh, and of course the magnificent moustache.

I’m guessing that the cowboy thing stems from the ‘Wild West’ way of life here in Baja California.

The Western films were based on that way of life so now, is life imitating art, or is art imitating life?

I’m not sure.

Play it again Sam...

Behind the sombreros (sombrero means ‘hat with a brim’ in Spanish Mexican) is also the deep-rooted love of traditional Mexican music.

It’s called ‘banda’ or ‘nortena’,  and it’s the type of music which makes Jacky pull the most extreme unappreciative face I’ve ever seen on a person.

Eighty per cent of the Mexicans here seem to love it. Like a religion in fact.

They drive around in their cars day and night with windows down blasting it out like they’re the coolest people on the planet.

When they pull up within eye shot they give you that cocky look as if to say “yeh, you know it”.

And I think “yep I certainly do”.

That style of music should be used as a weapon in war.

It incorporates acoustic guitars, drums, possibly trumpets and, of course accordions.

Click on this link and you’ll get some idea: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1uipWnRvEA.

Now, it would be unfair to say that I ‘hate’ it because that’s a strong word.

To me, it’s not big and it’s not clever. I’d rather listen to AC/DC.

I don’t mind it, but when you hear it all day every day you can’t help but begin to despise it.

The fact that the music goes hand in hand with the sombreros, and the fact that someone like me - who is clearly not from round here - is targeted by the traditional musicians on the street several times a day when out and about, only adds to my feeling of discontent.
It is worth pointing out that people also listen to American or English music (notably British rock music) and Mexico does have some pretty cool rock bands, but most people seem to listen to banda or nortena.

So anyway today marks the 13^th date since I ran out of Golden Virginia tobacco.

It also marks the 13^th day since I last had a cigarette.

Cold turkey….? No sweat (literally), which is strange after 16 or so years as a full-time smoker.

Sure I could go and buy some horrible pack of smokes but I like what I like, so I’ve decided to quit until I get some more tobacco back home.

I live in Tijuana, why would I want my sense of smell back?!

Well, I’d rather wait.

Eight days until Jacky meets my mum and dad!

People are strange when you're a stranger

YOU know, most of the more interesting and funny moments of my new life in Mexico have happened around the dinner table.

Telling my girlfriend’s mother that I was feeling ‘horny’ when I meant to say I was feeling ‘hot’ (due to the sun) is a moment which those in attendance will never let me forget.

Another standout moment has got to be when numerous members of Jacky’s family tried to teach me to roll my R’s to get the perfect Spanish accent.

The sound that came out of my mouth was not a rolled ‘R’, it was more like the sound of a bee slowly dying (probably of embarrassment).

Having five or six people rolling R’s at me at the same time in perfect harmony was one of the most surreal moments of my life.

“It’s easy!” Jacky told me.

“Er... it’s really not,” I replied.

It is one of the most difficult things I have ever tried to learn. And now I am so self conscious of doing it wrong and simply making a noise at someone, that I can’t possibly EVER try it again.

I don’t understand how people can wake up one day knowing how to do it.

I’ve even tried googling it to find a video tutorial. To be honest the comments – mainly from half-wit Americans – are more entertaining.

So yes, I’m trying new things. I’m eating different food, I’m exploring new places, and I’m learning a new language (well, new for me).

An Englishman here in Tijuana (known as ‘TJ’) is a rarity.

And to say I stand out like a sore thumb is a massive understatement.

My skin colour is different, my accent is weird, and I’m literally about three feet taller than your average Mexican.

I stand head and shoulders above everyone. When I’m in a supermarket I peer out over the aisles like the Statue of Liberty gazing out over Manhattan’s ant population.

Jacky bought me a pair of boots as a welcoming gift and, while the size and length of the boots are fine, they are so narrow that I’m sure the daintiest British tinkerbell supermodel would have a job squeezing into them.

I now honestly believe that I – like many men who derive from the West Country – have ‘pasty’ feet.

Such has been the intensity of people’s stares here that they’ve nearly walked out into traffic.

I, more often than not, smile politely and say ‘hola’.

I’m not sure exactly what people expect me to say, but they often look bemused and give me a look to suggest ‘wow... it speaks’.

It’s strange being in a foreign land. And my foreign mind works in strange ways.

Wherever I am, somewhere in the chasms of my brain I immediately look for an indication of where the next toilet is. You know, just in case nature calls.

Last week Jacky and a contact of hers took me to a kind of TJ chamber of commerce event.

It was a weekly update for a huge expo style event called ‘Tijuana Innovadora’ going on over here in October.

It will undoubtedly be a big deal as they’ve lined up the co-founder of Apple as well as many other important speakers from the US and Mexico.

The event is all about celebrating TJ and its relations and standing with the world.

So unbeknown to me, my attendance at last week’s event – as an (award-winning... well, I can say that now right?!) English journalist – was seen as a ‘big deal’.

I walked into a room of around 100 people and people stopped talking and stared.

You know like the classic scene in a Western when the stranger character walks into the saloon?

People stopped sipping their coffee, they fixed eyes on me, the guy in the back stopped playing the piano... (okay, there was no piano player but you get the gist).

The next thing I know someone thrust a microphone into my hand and signalled for me to introduce myself.

I spoke some Spanish, I spoke some English, and I spoke something which is a cross between the two incorporating hand movements and weird facial expressions.

And I got a round of applause. Oh, and then everyone started dancing. Honestly.

I must have said something right? Right? People even wanted their pictures taken with me.

In that single moment I felt like I’d announced my arrival to potential future employers.

So watch this space.

At the weekend I also encountered something else which was new and weird in equal measure.

We drove past a hardware store (TJs equivalent to B&Q) and there was a large group of men shouting at the passing vehicles.

It turns out that these men were actually plumbers and electricians who were plying for trade.

Yellow Pages? Facebook group? Who needs em. Just shout loudly at your potential customers!

Personally I wouldn’t want to employ someone who scared the living cr*p out of me but hey, when in Rome... or Mexico.

It got me thinking that maybe I should just massively over pronounce my R’s and growl at people to show that I’m actually trying?

Hmmmm... maybe not.