Jim Hlavac
   Creative Intellectual
The Key to it all:
The stars and stripes are nice,
but most Americans would agree
with the clear sentiment
on the flag above.
This is me in Copala, Mexico, in one of the coolest photos I have of me.
I would have got here a little sooner, but my ride was slow.
Read the story below:.
See My  Blog -- The Daily Mush
The Hummingbird

The picture was taken in 2007 in the tiny town of Copala Mexico. I was living in Mazatla at the time, on the Pacific Coast, playing piano at the "Restaurante El
Memorial" on the Plaza Machado in the Centro Historico, with an apartment within earshot of the crashing waves of the Sea of Cortez on the crescent beach
that fronts the neighborhood Olas Altas - the High Waves.
I had joined two other American men, older than me by a decade or more, on this excursion to a 450 year old mining town in the Sierra Occidental, about 50
miles from the big city. We drove up in the car of one of the guys. There were about 20 American tourists lolling about. It seemed none spoke Spanish. I was
standing in the town's petite plaza when the boy in the picture, Francisco, approached me to offer a ride on the burro for 20 pesos. He asked me in Spanish. I
told him no way was I getting on that donkey. He had the deepest voice for a boy that age I ever heard, as deep and adult man as mine. It was weird. He
pestered me as I strolled with my friends around the plaza, taking in the stunning setting of the town.
"Arribba en mi burro, arribba en mi burro!" he said over and over.
"I'm not getting on your burro," I answered in Spanish. And the entire conversation with him was in Spanish.
"For you, 15 pesos."
Now I was intrigued. "I'm not getting on the burro."
"10 pesos, sir, arribba en mi burro!"
"Kid, why bother me? I'm not getting on your donkey. Why are you asking me in Spanish?"
"You looked like you spoke my language."
I looked at him and wondered how could he figure that out. I looked at the poor little burro and said again, "I'm not getting on the burro."
"Five Pesos! Only five pesos!" He was jumpy like young boys are.
"Why are you bugging me?" I asked. "Go ask some other gringo."
"You are the only thin one. The others are too fat, they'd kill my burro."
I near cracked up in laughter. He was just so blunt -- Obese American Tourists. It is a standard joke in Mexico, actually.
"I may be thin, but I'm not getting on your little burro, I'll break him."
"No, he's strong! Arribba en mi burro."
I was still walking on the sidewalk, and he was following me on the cobblestones, leading his complacent steed. He was a persistent kid, I'll give him that.
"No. He's too tiny, I'll break him."
"For you sir, for you FREE! Arribba en mi burro, FREE!" It was the weirdest sales pitch I ever heard.
All the Americans had been following this exchange, though I doubt they understood a word. The plaza and the surrounding square were about as big as a
rich man's pool and patio. It wasn't like no one could hear, or see, or witness the scene.
"FREE for you! Arribba en mi burro!"
"Why are you giving me a free ride when before it was 20 pesos?"
"I like you sir, you're a nice guy."
"How do you know?"
"I can feel it." He smiled, grimaced and said again: "Arribba en mi burro, gratis!"
"OK, OK, I'll get on the burro, but don't move him. Really, I don't want to break the poor thing."
"He's strong, I'll lead you around the plaza."
"Don't move the burro," I said, worried I'd fall off or he really would crumple under my weight. I got on the burro. The boy started to lead the burro, and I said,
"That's it! I'm off the burro." I got off. I pulled out 20 pesos handed it to him. He smiled and said thanks. I walked away. My friends were teasing me. Some lady
across the plaza called out -- "What a great picture."
"Oh, you took a picture of me?"
"Yes," she said.
So I hastened over to her to look at her digital camera. It was an OK picture, from a distance, not that good really, for the focal point of the picture, me, the
donkey and the kid, were too small in the frame, with the soaring mountains which encompassed the rising up in a green and tawny wall overtaking it all. And
then I heard "Arribba en mi burro." I turned around and there was the kid, all smiles and determined. I looked at Francisco and said "What? Are you following
me?" It was apparent he had. But I thought for a second, now was the chance for a better picture. So I said to the lady -- "If I get back on the burro, will you
take another picture and send it to me?"
"Yes." She smiled and positioned herself to shoot the picture.
"OK, kid, I'll get back on the burro so she can take another picture, alright?"
He said "OK," and I got back on the burro. She took a second picture. I got off the burro. I gave her my card. I gave Francisco another 20 pesos. "You're one
crazy young man," I said.
"You're one crazy old gringo," he said. And he was right, in a way, though he couldn't really know that. Still, the words: "El Colibri" above Francisco's head
mean "The Hummingbird." The picture is sort of allegorical in that either I'm riding a Democrat, or I'm akin to Jesus come to Jerusalem. Either way, I'm on a
donkey with all it's symbolism, and the hummingbird is there with all it's symbolism -- one of endurance and strength, for that tiny bird does incredible things.

And the boy is the future -- in a way. For one thing for sure -- he's stuck in Mexico and I returned to the USA, but he's 40 pesos richer. And I thought to myself
as I returned to Mazatlan -- we're all lucky we're born here, or get to move here to America. And why anyone in their right minds would want to make this
country more like any other country is beyond me. The key to the betterment of the world is to make every other country more like the USA.

Though apparently the rest of the world is riding a burro to the future, which is sad.
From this kid I wound up
learning the word "Berrinchudo"
After the trip I was explaining
the kid to a woman I know,
Flavia, in Mazatlan, and how
demanding and insistent he was.
And she said, "Ay, el es us
berrinchudo." And so she had to
write it for me, and work on
explaining it. And I discovered
it's from "Berrear" -- to bellow,
to yell for something.

And so another word entered my
vocabulary of non-tourist
Spanish.

Flavia taught me a lot of words
like that -- such as "Cochinero"
or Pig Sty. "Consentido" --
spoiled. Sweet.