La Familia -- Elsa

Elsa (still early 30s) is as complicated as her son. If not more so. When I first met her, she seemed distant. When I interacted with her a little more, she exhibited this kind of gruff, unpleasant agitation.

When I interacted with a little more, though, I saw further layers -- that she could be caring, that she could be considerate, that she could even be light-hearted. Each night, for example, during the family’s two-hour bull sessions at the kitchen table -- the best part of the trip for me – she plays practical jokes. One time she told me the dinner was not beef, but horse meat, and became “furious” over the lack of respect I had for Mexican culture. Another time she played off my impression that she was/is a little crazy, warning me of the ancient spirits roaming the streets and the wrinkled, skinless cat lurking behind my window. So, she’s amusing. She’s also easily amused. She loved my extended Donald Duck impression, my two-second Johnny Bravo one, my interaction with her extended family, the fact that I (facetiously) tore her cooking to shreds, and that fact that I’ve consistently integrated Mexican slang into my vocabulary (“nell, guey” – roughly, “nuthin, homes.”)