And speaking of grandmas.
I was at the airport waiting for James to arrive, and while one is waiting, and in this case about three hours, there is nothing else to do but to watch the screen for arrivals, and the people around you, your fellow waiterers.
two things came to mind; I have never seen so many cell phones in one place before. It seemed every person, bar me, would at one point or another whip out a phone and have a lengthy and agitated conversation. As if waiting for someone was too difficult to endure without contact with the world outside the arrivals hall.
And the other thing was the clothing. Now, we gringos living in Mexico and venturing to the airport to pick up friends or family, are pretty much dressed the same way. Bright colored shirts or t-shirts and shorts--however unfortunate the choice for many--and sandals for the gents, smart and bright tops and shorts or tiny skirts and sandals for the females.
The Mexicans are by and large dressed neatly with the menfolk in shirts and long pants or jeans with shoes or boots, and the womenfolk dressed in what Chuck and I referred to as "Maria" dresses, in honour of our maid for many years who always dressed in dresses like that and would never, ever be caught in a pair of slacks, let alone shorts.
But now I see grannies dressed like this little lady waiting next to me with a bunch of grandchildren cavorting around her. Short cropped gray hair, pistachio green tight t-shirt ( I don't know if it was meant to be tight, or was tight because of her weight ) and finishing the outfit with a pair of Pepto Bismol pink lycra leggings, very, very tight.
This was definitely not your granny of yore.
Progress ? I am not sure. There was something comforting in the scores of Marias in their flowerprint dresses and their long hair in a sedate bun that you would see around town and in the markets. Now they are the minority.
Long live the minority.