The trapo

I can´t swear about the distinctively Mexican status of the trapo as opposed to other latin cultures, but for me the trapo was a striking cultural emblem. It´s a cloth rag. Nothing much to it.

Despite it´s apparent simplicity it really had me shortly after arriving here. It´s principal incarnation resides around the kitchen sink, and it has quite a few brethren in stages of dryness, wetness, cleanliness and dirtiness. Before I go further into the ecology of the trapo, I should state that from an English perspective the usual competition for a place by the kitchen sink is pretty weak. J cloths and sponges are not that common.

What exactly was so challenging about it? Well - it was slightly outside my usual hygienic practices and I didn´t like to touch them. The trapo appeared filthy to me. A rag that kept being used on kitchen surfaces (but not the floor), gathering dirt and continuing to be used. Shocking! Dirt was actually being spread about the kitchen in a rather self-defeating way.

I found it hard to approach the trapo, I would furtively use a kitchen towel, or if a sponge existed I would use that in preference. For many months I would circle around it saying to myself "shall I or shan´t I" but in the end I took the plunge and now I´m having a go. I´m not great at it. I´m criticised ocassionaly by Sofia for leaving it greasy. But I have at least got the hang of its purpose. Think of it by analogy with cloth nappies - it is actually more environmentally friendly than the disposable options. The trapo brethren do need good management - a rotation, some being soaked or bleached if strictly necessary, others hanging on the line, or in a pile while the current no. 1 trapo is doing the business.

Nearly there with the trapo...

I learnt began to perceive other trapo dimensions as I learnt the culture. Notice that I have been speaking of a rather female domain. Many Mexican housewives would well ask why the hell should I as a man have anything to say on this subject - it´s out of my area. Well, I do retain that right as part of my own cultural background - for me the kitchen is shared space, and I do enjoy doing more than 50% of the cooking. I cooked once for the extended family in Mexico City - it was a Thai meal. Uncles were sitting round the table expecting the food to be too greasy to digest, and asking for tortillas to go with it - but generally my presence in the kitchen was accepted - and I did, in the end come clean, so to speak about my previous trapo prejudices. I was tolerated.

It was pointed out to me that the trapo existed in an entirely male domain, that of the "viene, viene." Viene, viene means "come, come" and the words are used to usher a car into a parking space are so common that they are applied to the car park attendant himself. Men use similar trapos, and whistles too (with bird-like call signs) to communicate with drivers. Wild waving of trapos in built up areas says something like: park here and avoid parking lot fees - you know it makes sense. On the other hand the viene viene in question is a scammer; freelancing, grabbing a space when someone leaves and reserving it informally with a bucket or two, and then charging a ridiculous amount of money, like $20 pesos. This proprietary attitude to the parking space extends to a veiled threat of scratching the car unless payment is made. He inevitably says he will look after car and contents - but there is absolutely no certainty of this. In some supermarket car parks the viene vienes have a paramilitary appearance with 14 hole Dr Martens boots and black uniforms - they are paid for their work and they make do without a trapo, just the whistle. So as you see the trapo is, for many men in the informal economy, a prime means of getting something something for nothing.

The viene viene was jokingly among the family my first job in Mexico. I made quite a study of it. In the end I concluded that my ideal job would be the absurd post of President of the Trade Union of Blind Viene Vienes.

At our wedding I misjudged a little interaction with Sofia´s cousin Rolando who was like a best man to both of us. He had previously in the wedding, and ceremoniously, given us a variety of typically Mexican artifacts - poncho with some electric colours, maracas, a multi-coloured rafia type lasoo, a pair of "atrapa novios" and small earthenware ornamental mask of a happy face - possibly of Aztec origin. Rolando later handed me the trapo. I should have accepted it immediately as a token of acceptance into Mexican culture - as that was how it was undoubtedly intended. But I spurned it - I thought it was a filthy kitchen sink trapo and not the symbol of the viene viene. Shame. Still, I´m wiser now.