Click photo of the Chingona above for slide show

I went to the Alameda Park Saturday, July 19, 2008, to find some local handmade jewelry. I found a coupe of things I liked so I bought them from a couple of artisans.

As I was leaving I walked passed an young Asian lady that was kind of hidden behind all the other vendors stalls because she only had a small chair and very small oval table to work from. The sign at her stall said, letter you name in Chinese or Japanese and gave three prices. I at first passed her up and continued walking out, but the more I thought about it, a young Asian lady sitting there all alone mixed into the masses of Mexican vendors I just had to go back.

Though I don’t know the difference in either lettering and if wrote my name a Mocoso I wouldn’t know the difference. I was getting my name printed in Chinese or Japanese.

As I walked back to the stall I couldn’t help but remember my elementary school days when I grew up in an all gringo neighborhood. Kids would often ask me how to say their name in Spanish. And I would respond with Chango or Pendejo.

As I approached this lady I said hello, in my Texas Taco twang Spanish, and asked what do you get for the three different prices. AND the first thing she says to me in a very cute Asian-Spanish accent is: I hope with that accent you speak English. LOVED IT.

I had selected Chinese. But being that I did not know the difference in lettering styles, I stupidly said, “Which one was better.” A almost died when those words came out of my mouth. This lady looked at me with wide eyes in disblief. And she says with a bit of sarcasticism in her voice, WHICH IS BETTER, let me think, what is better, English or Spanish.

We got closure on this dumb comment and she began to write my name in Chinese. And all the while we talked and laughed like a couple of high school girls as she wrote. We had a delightful time conversing. I loved her attitude so much that I invited her to a coffee. Then I heard what I love best, she said no coffee, maybe a beer. When she said that I knew I had a friend.

I asked for her name a couple of times and she would not give it to me. Finally she said her name was Chingona. Which used to be a cuss word but now means Super Cool, but can also mean Super Bitch, so I wasn’t sure where she was coming from. Was this a warning?

Great I thought, China Chingona, in parque Alameda too cool. My first thought was – was this really Margaret Cho, The All American Girl, masquerading for new material. Or worse yet, maybe Connie Chung’s illegitimate daughter trying to scratch out a living in Mexico City.

What the hell, Cho, Chung or China Chingona I didn’t care, I am just hoping we will see each other again. I gave her my card and hopefully she does call me. She seemed like a fun lady. And as I left, she says, if I don’t call you, don’t get mad just come by and the next time we go have beer. Hmmm, am I turning hetro?

- J.Chairez ©