La noche en el Barrio Antiguo

The cathedral stretches skyward in the midnight darkness, and a blue neon cross atop the steeple of the centuries-old church guides us down the street to the discotecas. American music and 20-somethings stream from inside the stone edificios. Hot dog vendors greet civilians, gesturing toward the stacks of bright red meat, covered in cheese and bacon. Some of the students in our group catch a whiff of the Mexican specialty and open their wallets and retrieve their pesos. One of my companeros warns them: you shouldn´t eat those, you´ll get sick. He´s been to Ecuador for two years and Costa Rica for a few months, he should know.
The uneven sidewalks remind me of summertime nights in Nogales, near la frontera. I´m watching my group and watching my steps all at the same time, caught up in the life of the city´s center. My words are few, while my thoughts are many. Oh how I love this.
Native tongue whizzes by my ears. I catch a few of the words. Just enough to taste the conversation. But I fall back into my own bubble as we make our way down the street, dodging other groups or random vendors.
Nueva Luna. No charge for the girls, but 80 pesos for the guys. A better rate than the other place that was charging 150 pesos for each person. According to one of the local college guys, it´s a preppy place--similar to Scottsdale, we assume.
The stage already has a band playing a mix of Spanish-language music. A small group of revelers sway to the salsa beat and I can´t help but sway mine a bit as we make our way upstairs to a large table. In no time, la cerveza is flowing and a bowl-like glass full of strawberry margarita is placed in front of me. It´ll be the only drink for me.
We´re dancing and drinking, simultaneously. Other patrons watch us and I wonder if they´re laughing at our gringo moves or just staring because we´re different. Either way, we ignore it and laugh and dance for hours.
Another band comes on. They cover Maroon 5 and Black Eyed Peas and most of us (the girls) make our way down stairs to dance. A smile was plastered to my face the rest of the night. Dancing, Spanish-language music, friends and margaritas--what a great night. The only thing that would´ve topped it off would have been my fiance dancing with me--but then again, I don´t think he would´ve danced with me anyway. He´s not a fan. And Spanish-language music is not all that great to him either...
A huge bill, few companeros que estaban borrachado later, and we´re leaving the club to go to another. We end up in a gay club. A man offers the girls beers and tequila, but we decline. Don´t know where it came from or what was in it. We leave about 20 minutes after we get there.
Our night ends in a plaza full of smaller clubs. The plaza, que se llama Zocolo, is packed with college-agers and near closing time. The music only reignites my energy and I dance to "Hey ya," and "It´s my perogative"--more American music.
We´re on our way home in the bright green taxi, which zips in and out of traffic, through "suggested" street lanes. We pass the Applebees, the McDonalds, the Chilis and finally arrive at our hotel, the Holiday Inn Express de Tecnologico. Americanization at its finest.
Monterrey: a new Mexico in my eyes, but not one that feels so far from home, unfortunately. My heart still longs for la frontera...