Latin American Theatre Review

Jacqueline Bixler ~ While it was easy to collect these tributes from the many students, friends, and colleagues who loved Laurietz, it is not at all easy to write my own. Laurietz was my cuatita, my travel companion, and my partner in crime (she was Thelma, I was Louise). When we first met in the 90s, we discovered that we shared not only a Ph.D. from Kansas and a hero worship of our mentor George Woodyard, but also a love of travel and adventure. From that point on we rarely missed a chance to join up for a conference or theatre festival. My last adventures with Laurietz took place in Austria/Brno (2017) and Lima (2019). Little did I know that they would be the last.

Laurietz was an excellent photographer, but she also loved to pose for lesser photographers such as myself. Some of the photos that appear on these pages were taken during one of our many adventures abroad (mostly in Mexico, though we also hit France, Switzerland, Spain, Peru, Argentina, Austria, the Czech Republic, and Puerto Rico). Coincidentally, the day after I learned of Laurietz’s death, I left for Mexico, where I remembered her sadly, happily, and at times laughingly at nearly every turn. Coyoacán, where we fought over theatre books in La Ghandi, bought trinkets at the hippie market, and ate her favorite meal, pasta (and dessert, of course), at Entreveros. The Zócalo and our balcony in the Hotel Majestic, from where we partied and danced to the live music of Rubén Blades; it didn’t take much persuading for Laurietz to go down and join those dancing in the street. And finally, San Angel and the Bazar Sábado, where she mercilessly haggled with the street vendors. No one was ever going to cheat Laurietz, most memorably the taxi driver who heatedly got out of the cab and fought with her on the sidewalk when she refused to pay him for taking us, according to her, to the wrong place.

I confess that, as her travel roommate, I sometimes found myself a bit exasperated by some of her travel habits. For one, her finickiness with [End Page 105] regard to food; if it wasn’t pizza or pasta, it was inedible. I’ll never forget the look on her face when Enrique Mijares presented us with a platter of escamoles (ant larvae) and gusanos. Then there was the size and weight of her suitcases, which contained an incredible number of book, toiletries, and travel gadgets that she brought along por si acaso. I almost wet my pants laughing when she could not hoist her enormous suitcase up on to the train leaving for Vienna. There was also the endless morning toilette, that included a 45-minute shower, during which she would hum and sing and ultimately leave me without hot water. But these oft-maddening details were little to pay for Laurietz’s friendship, which was fierce, generous, and unconditional.

I will never forget you, cuatita... your beautiful smile, your playfulness, your adventurous spirit. [End Page 106]