They don't actually "celebrate" Cinco de Mayo in Mexico

Cinco de Mayo isn't a federal holiday in Mexico so banks, offices and stores remain open. However, many people take the day off.

The celebration of Cinco de Mayo primarily occurs in the state of Puebla, where the unlikely victory against the French army occurred at the Battle of Puebla.

Cinco de Mayo has been Americanized.

In the United States, Cinco de Mayo is sometimes mistaken for Mexico's Independence Day which actually occurs on September 16th.

It has been turned into a celebration of the Mexican-American culture in the U.S.

Americans celebrate by going to local Mexican restaurants, eating Mexican food, drinking tequila and margaritas, and listening to mariachi bands.

Cinco de Mayo parties or "fiestas" are also held to celebrate the 5th of May.

When I was living in Mexico I was supposed to be in Mexico City on Cinco de Mayo, but I ended up flying back to Oklahoma to visit my family and see my mom for Mother's Day.

Some friends were having a Cinco de Mayo fiesta that night and I wanted to go see everyone that I hadn't seen in months.

We had a mustachin' good time....

Turn that mustache upside down :)

Damsel in Distress

Cabin fever is a real thing.


After enduring one of the worst winters New York has ever had, it was time to go back home for the holidays. And hopefully warmer weather.

In February I received a call. It was my agency in New York with my next modeling assignment. I was going to be living in Mexico City for the next three months. Oh no. I need to brush up on my Spanish. Or maybe I'll just say "no hablo español."

The nerves were real.

I wasn't getting much reassurance from my family. Most of them were telling me to be careful and how worried they were about me going to Mexico City.

The first two weeks were rough. I didn't leave my apartment unless someone from my new agency came to get me. The wifi didn't work. This meant no contact with anyone back home. The shows on t.v. were all in Spanish. The one time I did leave the apartment by myself, a car full of men whistled and yelled things at me that I couldn't understand.

I stuck out like a sore thumb. I don't know what gave me away more, the pale white skin or the blonde hair.

However, my hand motioning and facial expression skills did improve.

This made my first photo shoot interesting to say the least. The photographer would push and pull me around, putting me in different spots, making motions of what poses he wanted me to do.

Then I met a guy.

He was tall, dark, and a little hairy.

His name was King Kong and he was my hero. I was just a damsel in distress living in Mexico City.