Hundred. Dollah. Bills.

Picture this:

You are in Billings, Montana. You have a $50 bill in your wallet, and you want some Mountain Dew. That Mountain Dew costs $2.50 (because you're buying it in a bottle, not in a super sized cup). You drive your unnecessarily large truck to the nearest gas station, pick out your bottle, and walk up to the cash register.

The cashier says, "That'll be $2.50." You open your wallet, and hand him a $50 bill.
He gives you $47.50 in change. You say, "Hey, thanks. Have a good one." He nods, and smiles, and says, "See ya around."

And you continue with your life.

Imagínate esto:

Estás en Billings, Montana. Tienes sed, y quieres un Mountain Dew. También tienes USD$50.00 en tu bolsillo. Un Mountain Dew tiene un precio de US$2.50 (porque vas a comprar una botella, no una copa super grande como normal). Manejas tu camioneta enorme al estación de gas, eliges tu botella, y estás lista para pagar. 

El cajero te dice, "Va a costar US$2.50." Abres tu cartera, y le das US$50.00 en efectivo. 
Te da US$47.50 de cambio, se sonríe y te dice, "Gracias. Nos vemos."

Sigues viviendo tu vida. 

Now picture this:

You are in Oaxaca, Oaxaca. You have a 500 peso bill in your pocket (about US$45.00), and you want to eat lunch at your favorite restaurant, with a fixed price menu of 100 pesos. You walk to the restaurant, sit down, eat the delicious food, and then ask for the bill.

You pull a 500 bill out of your pocket, and put it in the check holder. The waiter takes it.
Then he brings it back and asks if you have change. Two things can happen at this point:

1.) You dig through all of your pockets and bags looking for change. You come upon a 200 peso bill. The waiter asks again if you're sure you don't have exact change. You say you're sure. He takes your 200 pesos, but everyone knows he's slightly annoyed.

2.) You don't have change. You begin to apologize profusely. You thought you had 100 pesos. You were sure. The waiter goes to the kitchen, they don't have change. The waiter asks people in the restaurant if they can break 500 pesos. You hang your head in a shame. They say no (because change for 500 pesos does not exist). Finally, the waiter leaves the restaurant and goes to a neighboring store where someone breaks the 500 peso bill.

Ahora, imagínate esto:

Estás en Oaxaca. Tienes 500 pesos en tu cartera y quieres comer en tu restaurante favorito, con un menú diario de 100 pesos. Caminas al restaurent, te sientas, y comes bien. Le pides al mesero la cuenta, y cuando llegue, pongas 500 de efectivo adentro. El mesero lo lleva....y regresa para preguntarte si tienes cambio. 

Ahora, 2 cosas pueden pasar:

1.) Empiezas buscar frenéticamente en todos tus bolsillos, tu mochila, etc. Encuentres 200 pesos. El mesero te pregunta otra vez si no tienes cambio exacto. Le dices que no, estás seguro que no tienes cambio exacto y el mesero se va con un poco de frustración en su cara. 

2.) No tienes cambio. No sabes cómo pasó esto. Estabas seguro que tenía cambio contigo, pensaste que había 100 pesos en tu cartera. Tienes vergüenza y no puedes mirar a nadie en la cara. El mesero empieza a preguntar a la gente en el restaurante si tienen cambio. Por supuesto, nadie lo tiene. Finalmente, el mesero se va a otra empresa y regresa con tu cambio. 

I have discovered that there are really only 3 ways you can change out 500 pesos:
1.) Have a really good relationship with someone who owns a high traffic business, and be careful not to abuse the 500 peso bill breaking more than 2x a month.
2.) Have a local bank account, and stand in the epically long lines at the bank in hopes that the cashier will break your money.
3.) Buy something that costs more than 300 pesos (but then you're spending a lot of money...to get change...)

Every time I see people running between businesses with bills in their hands, I laugh.
I get it.
It is the game of the 500 peso bill.
A dance. A puzzle. A joke.

He descubierto que realmente solo hay 3 maneras en que puedes recibir cambio de 500 pesos:

1.) Tienes que tener un buen amigo que tiene una empresa con muchos clientes. 
2.) Tienes que tener una cuenta de banco aquí, y tener paciencia con las filas, y también suerte de que el cajero vaya a cambiar tu dinero. 
3.) Tienes que comprar algo que cuesta más que 300 pesos (pero vas a perder 300 pesos, y solo vas a tener ~200 de cambio). 

Cada vez que veo a una persona correr entre negocios, con la esperanza de cambiar dinero, tengo que reírme. 
De repente, lo entiendo. 
Es el juego de los 500.
Es un baile. Un rompecabeza. Una broma. 

And I find that there are no words that describe, in full detail, the look on someones face when you pull out a 500 bill...or when someone walks into a room and asks if someone has change for 500.

It is a pained and exasperated expression which translates roughly to: sorry, I can't help...but boy, do I feel your pain.

If it were up to me, the 500 peso bill would be an ancient artifact.
It is not needed.
It is unwanted.
It has no admirers.

And now, for a musical accompaniment...

Y no hay palabras para explicar la mirada en la cara de alguien cuando otra persona entra el cuarto y pregunta, "alguien tiene cambio de 500?"

Es una mirada que dice algo entre, "Claro que no, pero entiendo muy bien tu posición."

Si podría eliminar el billete de 500, lo haría. 
No es querido. 
No es necesario. 
No tiene ningún amigo ni admirador. 

y ahora...para una canción del tema... 

All The World's A Stage.

Let's start with the positives.
Actually, I'm not so sure it's a "positive" but it's not the angry rant that I have brewing in the depths of my soul.

So let's start with something lighter.

Street kids.

They are literally on every street in Oaxaca. Hungry, dirty, hilarious, vivacious, little kids who typically spend their days begging for money.

And occasionally food.

Because I am almost 100% certain they don't get to keep the money they collect, I will not give them any. But food? Always.

If a child asks me for food, I will never say no. Starving or not.
And so today, when Lisa and I were walking to the little park to sit and eat lunch, and this little chico came up alongside us asking for some of our peanuts, we happily obliged.

And I gave him a sucker.
And then a woman passed by, selling alegría and I bought those and gave him that, too.

The look on his face was pure shock. He had only asked for peanuts.
He walked back towards his accordion-playing dad with his hands full, and a spring in his step, and I felt a little better knowing that they'd have something extra to eat today.

- - - - -

Now about that angry rant.

As much as I love Oaxaca - and I really, really love it here - there is one thing that I just can't figure out how to approach: the bounty of unwanted attention.

I can handle the annoying noises.
I just pretend I don't hear them. I keep my head down. I don't make eye contact. I don't say hello.
Well, 88% of the time.

But despite trying to make myself invisible, the fact of the matter is simply that I'm not. And I'm different.

And I'm not sure why, but for some reason my differentness seems to be synonymous with "Hey, complete stranger! Yeah, you! I don't know you but why don't you come talk to me? I'd really love to answer all your really personal questions!"

At least once a day, but usually 2 or 3 times, I am approached by a complete stranger (of the male variety). Sometimes, these conversations are innocent: why are you here, what do you think about Oaxaca?

But more often than not, they go like this:
Them: (catching pace with me) "Hola."
Me: - Looking at them without saying anything. -
Them: Are you here for vacations?
Me: No. I live here.
Them: What do you do?
Me: I have a job. That's why I live here.
Them: Where did you learn Spanish?
Me: Good question.
Them: Where do you live?
Me: Here.
Them: - laughing because I'm being difficult. -
Me: - still walking -
Them: You're really a beautiful woman.

This typically ends in a proposition of some sort. Am I interested in going to a hotel? Do I want to hook up somewhere? Do I live alone?

What I want...is to walk down the street...in peace.

I realize this sounds like a silly thing to continue to be angry about. But, unless you have to deal with it on a regular basis, you don't really get it. A lot of people here don't get it. I was recently walking down the street with a male friend, local to the area, and out of seemingly nowhere he exasperatedly said, "Is this what it's like for you every time you leave the house?"

And all he was witnessing were the stares. I was walking with him, so no one was going to say anything to me.

Before I could answer his question, he answered it himself saying that it's probably 10x worse when I'm by myself, and that he'd never realized it was so bad.

- - - - -

This is the last I'll complain about it for a while. But sometimes it destroys your confidence. It shakes you. It makes you question everything about yourself. The way you're dressed, the way you walk, the way you hold your head up. It makes you hyper aware of everything.

You always have an audience.

But I have found that if you make a really ridiculous face at people when they say something crass, they often don't know what to do with themselves, or how to interact with you.

And it's hilarious.