Groundhog Day

I haven’t seen the movie Groundhog Day but I sure have bloody lived through the experience. I’m certain lots of other people who have moved abroad have been frustrated by the same thing. Since I’m fairly new here to Mexico, I’ve been meeting a lot of new people; colleagues, customers, taxi drivers, waiters & waitresses, people at social groups and in bars. It’s nice to meet lots of different people from various parts of the world and nobody ever has the same story. It’s a real privilege to be lucky enough to hear some of the fantastic anecdotes & experiences people have. Here in Mexico I’ve met a civil engineer who gave up his job to drive for Uber so he could spend more time with his family; an American who works from home so decided her home could be Mexico, a Brit who speaks absolutely no Spanish and collected their absolutely massive bloody balls to impulsively accept a job here. And many more.

What’s not interesting though, is the other 60% of conversations I’m having. Groundhog Day. Every conversation the same questions are trotted out in an order that only ever varies slightly. I try to be polite and friendly, but often when I’m tired the answers are abrupt. It’s frigging frustrating having to explain that no, Ireland is not in the USA. It’s tiresome every time somebody responds to my country of origin with, “Oh that’s fantastic, I went to France once!” (France? Are we similar now?) And it’s just plain awkward when someone I’ve just met minutes ago starts prodding (in a bad way hahaha) into my sex life. Why am I single? How many girlfriends did I leave behind I Ireland? Have I slept with one of the fiery hot (ardiente) Mexican women yet? Am I interested in meeting the single cousin who loves gringos? Seriously… I get asked all of these regularly.

I’m really tempted to write out all of my answers, print them, laminate them and hand them out to curious acquaintances. I’ve had a better idea though. I’m just gonna tell them to read my blog. Here’s the answers, no prizes for guessing what the questions are.

  1. No I’m not Mexican
  2. I’m Irish
  3. It’s the island beside England
  4. No, I haven’t seen Braveheart
  5. Yes, France is lovely
  6. The northern part
  7. Yes, the other part is independent
  8. (Bored at this stage)
  9. Yes, we do like a drink
  10. 3 months
  11. In University
  12. Also Colombia
  13. Because I’ve worked bloody hard at learning it
  14. Yes it is a difficult language to learn
  15. No, I’m not a tourist
  16. I came here to work
  17. Because there was a job here
  18. Software.
  19. No you can’t buy a new laptop off me
  20. (Wishing they could buy something off me)
  21. No, not Microsoft
  22. Yes, It’s interesting and every day is different
  23. No I do not have a family. I want a dog
  24. No I do not want to meet your cousin/daughter/aunt/sister/friend
  25. Yes Mexican food is nice
  26. … and the list goes on.

This list could go on. It’s basically a script of my life. Whenever I die and somebody wants to make a movie of my life starring some ridiculously attractive young man they are officially allowed to use this in their screenplay.

The worst thing about this list is that nearly every time I meet someone new, I ASK THE SAME FLIPPING TYPE OF QUESTIONS! I am such a hypocrite. I bet there are people around the globe writing this same blog except they’ve got me in mind as the unimaginative questioner.