Upside Down Hotel May 7
I am invited to attend the Cinco de Mayo Fiesta at the Hilton, hosted by the US Embassy. Although I avoid galas as a general rule, I once thought that befriending the Ambassador or his staff might be useful, but the practice has proved painful during school functions. At a Christmas party, the Attache’s wife went on breathlessly about her previous embassy assignments, all of them superior to “this shit hole.“ She may have been quoting her president.
Mariana, a Yucateca from Merida, must go to the phony fete with her parents, as per diplomatic protocol, but she thinks it is “stupid.“ Indeed, this adolescent from the “White City“ finds much that is stupid about her new home. She is stunned by the amount of alcohol consumed by her classmates, particular around holiday time, in a country where holidays fill the calendar. Kids get drunk at their parents’ limes and then miss school with hangovers. Tonight she intends to test the sobriety of the elite class by asking if they know what they are celebrating, as Mexicans themselves can be a little hazy on the Battle of Puebla.
“‘Que significa?’ No one will know what Cinco de Mayo means. They won’t even know it’s a day of the month. They call it ‘Sicko Dee.’“ She has not mastered the Trini accent, but her English is quite good, and her disdain for provincial ignorance is admirable. I advise her to save her first question for the Attache’s wife.
Abandoning all formalities, I bust a lime with some music friends and schoolmates. Ian Joseph, a mathematician, is a maestro with guitar and bass. He just finished church—Saturday folk mass, good gospel music, Trini-Catholic style. Now he plays old calypso favorites, including Lord Invader’s “Rum and Coca Cola“ and Roaring Lion’s “Ugly Wife.“ With dextrous thumb-strumming and smooth baritone, he tours island sounds—soca, reggae, rumba, bossanova, parang, and calypso—leaving this northern neophyte to wonder how rhythm works.
“Ugly Wife“ The Roaring Lion (1934)
If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life,
Never make a pretty woman your wife.
So from my personal point of view,
Get an ugly girl to marry you.
A pretty woman makes her husband look small,
And very often causes his downfall.
As soon as he marries her, then she starts,
To do the things that will break his heart.
But if you make an ugly woman your wife,
You'll be happy for the rest of your life.
An ugly woman cooks meals all the time,
She'll always give you peace of mind.
Don't let your friends say you have no taste,
Go ahead and marry anyway.
Her face is ugly, her eyes don't no match.
Take it from me, she's a better catch.
Say, man?
Hey baby!
I saw your wife the other day.
Yeah?
Yeah, and she's ugly.
Yeah, she's ugly, but she sure can cook, baby!
Yeah, alright.
Yeah, baby.
The Movietime Sunday matinee premiere of Hotel Mumbai is lightly attended, so the theater is freezing. I find myself coveting the burkas of the Muslim women sitting behind me. Most of the audience is Indo-Trini. On the whole, the film experience is a disturbing one, due not only to the visceral content but the many moments of inappropriate laughter in the theater. It is as if a jammed rifle is comic relief—as if this story is interchangeable with the Avenger fantasy playing next door.
Radical terrorism may pose a real threat, but most residents do not give it priority. The global stage exists elsewhere, certainly not at the Hilton, PoS hillside version of the 5-star Taj, which locals have nicknamed “the upside-down hotel“ because its service entrance is on the roof. Security may be tight for the Sicko-Dee lime at the manor, but foreigners are not the problem. What really terrorizes the people does not row ashore in rafts. It drives straight down the Western Main Road, past Westmoorings, leaving 4 shot dead in Carenage. This makes 200 so far, more than worth a feature film.