mucho viaje, poco trabajo

March was dedicated to traveling or travel plans, but precious little schoolwork. There was the strike which knocked off a day of class and then the two days off for holidays, the first to celebrate the birth of Benito Juarez, first mestizo president of Mexico, and the second for el Día de los Flores. The last week of March is Semana Santa (Holy Week) and students, many professionals, and businesses are closed to attend mass, watch parades and spend time with family. In Guanajuato there are live reenactments of Jesus Christ's last days. Most students also have the first week of April free so it's a popular time for families to vacation.

And then there's just the relaxed educational environment. Homework is basically non-existent. A study abroad director from Occidental College came to visit our program and commented that non-US students always complain that US classes are filled with busy work; US students abroad complain that there is very little schoolwork throughout the semester and then huge final projects that constitute the entire course grade. My experience has been somewhat like the latter.

It's reasonable to say that I have been stuck in a rut for a while and I've tried to analyze why. In the first month everything is new and overwhelming. The second month you start to find your stride, but you realize you're spending too much money and you need to cut back to make it last for four more months. In the third month, even though you haven't turned in that many papers, you're still ready for a break and you have two glorious weeks to travel, sleep or whatever. Then all of a sudden it's April and you realize that you only have one month left and big projects are looming over your head. Two exchange students in my program are studying for their second consecutive semesters, and while Guanajuato could start to be a bit boring for 10+ months*, I can see the benefits of staying on for two semesters. (No I am not planning on staying on; I am graduating, so I don't think it's actually possible, and I have many commitments awaiting me in Rhode Island.) But the acclimation process can take so long that once you've settled in and figured out what the Mexican university system wants from you, it's time to go! Also two semesters would give you the option to take more classes alongside Mexican students, which really is the best part of the program.

So with this precious free-time I've done some traveling and had a few visitors. Mid-March I went with a few students from the program to Zihuatanejo and Ixtapa in the state of Guerrero. A relatively comfortable bus ride on 1st class Primera Plus brings you to the beach in under 7 hours for about $80 round trip. One of the girls is very familiar with this area because her family has a time-share in the area so we enjoyed the benefits of beach-connections! Cheap taxi rides, free lodging, and the insiders scoop on where to eat and beach. We even got free surfing lessons. Thanks Jourie!

The first 5 days of Semana Santa I spent in Mexico City with my partner, Paul. I could return to that city (megalopolis) over and over again. Plenty of people will tell you that it's too dangerous to visit, and I do know people who have been assaulted repeatedly, but we, fortunately, had a fantastic hassle-free time. We kept the trip low-stress and visited one or two sites a day, walking and taking the subway everywhere. Public transportation systems are always a must-see for me in any city and the metro in DF is maybe my all-time favorite. For 3 pesos you can transverse miles and miles (I mean kilometers) of city - transfers included - in a super clean car. There are even designated cars for women and children to avoid the crush of the crowd or any harassment. Vendor after vendor jump through the cars selling all sorts of bootleg mix CDs, promoting their wares through a boombox/back pack combination that belts out selected songs. I'm still kicking myself for not buying the 10 peso Mexican surf-rock CD.

Some other highlights from this trip: yummy food on a trajinera floating in Xochimilco (minus the annoying tour group), walking through La Condessa and finding a giant dog park and a group of elderly people taking salsa lessons, the brand new contemporary art museum (MUAC) at the Universidad Nacional Autonoma de México (UNAM), viewing the gorgeous murals that adorn the library at the UNAM, and delicious guacamole and chelas every night at the super-chido hostel right in the Zocalo. Can't wait to go back!

The second part of vacation was spent with m great US beach-bud in Puerto Vallarta. Many people warned us that the beach would be too crazy because it's one of the most popular destinations during vacation week. But we braved it anyway and had an awesome time even before the crowds cleared out on Easter Sunday. We stayed at a beautiful hostel just 2 blocks from the beach and ate delicious food every day. I highly recommend Planeta Vegetariano and El Brujo to anyone that travels to Vallarta. The tacos are a little bit more expensive there (everything is in a tourist town) but the extra few pesos are well worth it. Fish, shrimp and octopus tacos. Whole red snappers. Ahhhh coastal living. Also I successfully avoided a sunburn and reaffirmed that I do not like coconut water.

Ten days later I enjoyed a much-needed visit from my parents. I took them around to some of the classic GTO sights, including the mine in Valenciana, the churches, and art museums. We also spent a fair amount of time relaxing at their great B&B, Casa Zuñíga, watching Mark Bittman videos and eating mangos. You know, how the Zucks roll.

It's May 3rd now - I really do apologize for the shortage of postings - and I have tons of schoolwork to catch up on after a weekend trip to Guadalajara. But let's save that for another posting.

* Guanajuato is beautiful, the people are friendly and I'm glad I chose this as my study-abroad destination. However, its relative small size (while good for safety and meeting people) can make for some very boring evenings. Also, the city is quite conservative and sometimes I feel trapped inside a protective bubble. When traveling in Vallarta, I was refreshed to see gay couples holding hands in public. "Oh right!" I said to myself. "There are places in Mexico where people have the freedom to be themselves."

Kids, snacks, slang

The small Providence suburb where I grew up wasn't too exciting if you were a t(w)een. It's the stereotype of a white, middle-class, New England town. There were the usual school and town sports teams, girl and boy scouts, and CYO events. Kids hung out in their neighborhoods after school and on the weekends, playing street hockey, etc. The teenagers looked for trouble - drinking or smoking pot in the woods, house parties when the "cool" parents allowed them. It sounds/seems like the perfect setting to a horror film or an after-school special about binge drinking. Our town was small, but living off a main highway meant my neighborhood didn't have any kids. I mostly played by myself or with my sister. I wasn't on any sports teams, nor I was involved in any extra-curricular activities. In short, I wasn't normally surrounded by large amounts of kids.

I'm willing to bet census statistics would confirm my prediction that the largest segment of Guanajuato's population falls under the age of 18. Sit yourself on a city bench Monday through Friday between the hours of 1:00 and 2:00 and the sheer number of kids in the streets might overwhelm you. For the most part, Guanajuato is pedestrian friendly. There is one main street that runs through downtown, a system of tunnels weaves its way under the centro extending out in all directions, and buses are so frequent that you never wait for one more than 2 minutes.

Starting with the youngest Guanajuatenses, babies are everywhere and they accompany their parents all the time. Leave the kids with a babysitter? Unlikely. Babies go where adults go. And if the baby is less than 6 months old, it will be wrapped up in at least 2 micro-fleece blankets. Moms, dads, older brothers and sisters all carry newborns in these brightly colored cobijas. There are so many layers of wrapping that I've questioned whether or not a baby is inside. (After a too-close examination, there are in fact babies inside.) At the Museum of Rafael Coronel in Zacatecas, I viewed ceramic figurines which represented all the classes and races of colonial Mexico. A tour guide explained that you could distinguish the female figurines by the way they carried their babies: Spanish mothers in the front and indigenous on their backs. I have seen some babies carried in traditional rebozos, woven shawls, but mostly teddy bear and Sponge Bob (excuse me, Bob Esponja) acrylic blankets have replaced these vibrant cotton and silk scarves. I have to wonder whether or not the babies are sweating underneath all those layers, but it still is winter here, even if I'm in short-sleeves.

True, families are very excited about new babies and want to hold them close. But it's also done out of practical reasons. Strollers and baby carriages are impossible here. The sidewalks are dangerously narrow, so much so that two people often have to jockey for position, with one person stepping off out of courtesy. It's a silent game of eye contact, based on gender and respect. I usually step down for children and the elderly. Most men step down for me.

The plus side to this closeness is that toddlers aren't leashed. Parents of America: Your children are not pets. Do not put them on leashes. Hold their hand. Or carry them. Three, four and five year-olds are walked to Kinder with their parents. They wear mini smocks with their names painted on the chest.

After Kinder schooling is divided into primaria (1-4) secundaria (1-4) and prepa (1-4), elementary, middle and high school. Like many other cities, Guanajuato's population boom translates to an insufficient number of schools. To satisfy the growing demand, secundaria and prepa-aged kids attend classes in two groups, the first from 7am to 1 and the others from 1 to 7pm. Almost all schools require uniforms. Where you're standing in the city determines whether the crowd of kids appears as a navy blue, maroon or brown wave. Girls wear plaid skirts with white knee socks. Boys in dress slacks with collared shirts and v-neck or cardigan sweaters. Many wear warm-up suits personalized with their school’s name - President Benito Juárez 241, 183, etc.

At 1:30 a rush of children pours forth from the schools en rumbo a casa. Many parents accompany them, but equally common is huge packs of chavos walking together. It can be completely overwhelming trying to get anywhere with the congestion; I've found it easier to sit down on benches, wait for the crowd to pass and observe. In gross generalizations, kids (and adults) use much more hair gel than in the United States. Boys can achieve some very aerodynamic styles with mini-Mohawks and stiff spikes. Highlights, luces, are very popular for boys and girls, especially a gray-platinum color. It seems that anyone over the age of 10 is holding a cell phone, using it to play music or games, or giggling with friends over texts messages. It's totally normal for boys jump on the back of passing pickup trucks to catch a ride for a few streets.

While my comprehension continues to get better, it's still very difficult to pick up passing conversations. Therefore the average teenage chatter sounds like "Oye guey blah blah blah blah no manches blah blah blah blah blah Mira! No manches! Chíngale! Pinche cabron guey!"

• Guey is the incorrect spelling of güey, which came from buey (ox) and is always pronounced "way." See Urban dictionary's entries for a better translation, but basically you're either repeatedly calling someone dude, or insulting them in the same ways that guys deprecatingly call their friends bitch or pussy. No manches is the parent-appropriate version of No Mames which is No f'ing way!
• Chingale - from Chingar - Oh the myriad of ways you can use this word, in all its forms. Again, urbandictionary.
• Pinche - a conversation "enhancer"
• Cabron/a - literally a goat. But let's not kid around. ha. ha. ha.

Also, it's a delicious walk home. So many snacks! For just about a dollar!

• A little bag of steamed beans (similar size and texture to edamame) with fresh squeezed lime, salt and salsa - 5 pesos
• Just fried potato chips or French fries with lime, catsup or salsa - 13 pesos
• Sweet breads in all shapes and sizes covered in sugar, butter or both.
• Sugared, chocolate and cream-filled donas (doughnuts) 2-6 pesos
• Cups of freshly cubed or shredded fruits and vegetables (cucumbers, melon, papaya, pineapple, strawberries and carrots) covered in lime and salsa - 15 - 20 pesos
• Fresh squeezed juices (all the above fruit plus grapefruit, orange, pear, parsley, apple)
• Dorilocos! – sort of like nachos in a bag: a snack size bag of Doritos opened on the long side, topped with salsa, pica de gallo, some cubed pork product, peanuts, onions, and cilantro. I'm terrified of this product, but I've been told it's great.
• Lots of other beige fried shapes (some that look like pretzel twists,) cheetos, or cheese puffs covered in salsa.
• Ice creams, agua frescas, tables full of candies...

Yes, the common denominator here is salty, spicy, and sour. Don't forget to brush your teeth! With bottled water, of course.

After the kids go home, eat lunch, maybe take a nap, they will come back downtown. On the steps of Teatro Juarez, en el Jardín Union or on a random bench, couples will have serious make-out sessions whenever possible. Are Mexicans just more passionate? Why is everyone so fond of PDA? I really do not want to give any thought to the Latin Lover stereotype of hot bloodedness. One basic reason? Catholicism. It's kind of a big deal here. Sex before marriage is still really frowned upon. The same word - novio/novia - is used for both boyfriend/girlfriend and fiancé/fiancée. The implication is that the person you date is the person you're going to marry. Boys aren't allowed into girls' rooms because What would the neighbors think? Kids can't make out at home. And the average teenager definitely doesn't get a car at 16. Without anywhere else to go, what should be done in a private, intimate setting is displayed for the entire city to see. Guanajuato being relatively small, your cousin or your neighbor will probably see you. But it doesn't matter. The parents know that it's going on. They just can't let it happen under their roof.

Tiempo libre con los hidrocálidos

I really can't overstate how wonderful I've found the homestay experience. Not only do I get three meals a day, a spacious bedroom with private bath, weekly laundry service and endless hours of conversations, but I also get invitations to family gatherings all the time. And when families have 8 or 10 siblings, there seems to be a party every week.

I first met Hector and Margarita at my house. Hector is the brother of my mom, Delia, and his wife, Margarita, is my mom's cuñada, or sister-in-law. However, every time one addresses the other, the sentence begins with comadre. (I've found with my family, that everyone addresses each other with some version of their familial relationship. "Oye, tío, pasame la coca, por fis" or "ay, m'ija cuidate") Hector is a retired mechanical engineering professor and Margarita is a retired chemist. Hector was immediately very easy to talk with and he was genuinely interested in me. Margarita is enrolled in her 8th semester of English classes at the University. I happen to think her English is better than my Spanish, but she's very shy and reserved in conversation.

I went to their house to cut the rosca for Reyes Magos a few days after I arrived in Guanajuato, and I met their family members. Their 35-year-old daughter, Edna Yasmin, lives with them and works at the Comision Federal de Electricidad, like many members of my family. Their son Hector (or Hectorin as I've heard him called-maybe to distinguish father from son) also lives in Guanajuato with his wife Claudia, and daughter Michelin and Juan. Another son, Gabriel, was home for the Christmas holidays but later returned to Germany where he's doing a doctoral program in Mathematics. Another son, name forgotten, lives in Queretaro with his wife, Sandy, and their toddler.

The week before last, Hector and Margarita invited me to their casita in Aguascalientes. Margarita was born in Aguascalientes, capital city of the state with the same name, but attended college at UG, where she met Hector and has lived here ever since. Margarita's father gave her land at one point, on which they built their casita. Yasmin lived there while she went to college in Aguascalientes and for 13 years after that while she worked as a programmer in a geographic institute. 3 years ago she moved back to Guanajuato and she says she's completely bored by the city. Before we arrived at their second home, Margarita made sure to tell me several times that their house was very small and it might not be clean. I knew she was exaggerating, as is the custom, and sure enough their little house is a nicely appointed 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom house that sits above a 2 car garage.

Yasmin really misses living in Aguascalientes and comes back every 8 days. (Right, because a week is 8 days here. I tried figuring it out, but I can't.) Friday night Yasmin took me out in Aguascalientes with her friend Patty. First we went out for tacos! I had the hidrocálido, a sampling of their most popular dishes, including a small bowl of pozole, an enchilada, un taco, and una flauta. Super yummy! Later we shot pool while Yasmin grilled me about my family and life in the US. I had a hard time explaining what I was like in high school, but we eventually settled on the common cultural reference of late 90s Daria from MTV. Later we went to the movies to see Alocada Obsesión (or All about Steve with Sandra Bullock.) - There will definitely be at least one future post about movies. I've been going to the theatre a lot, buying bootlegs and taking a cinema class.

Saturday morning we woke early for a long day that started with yummy gorditas. There are many more "official" gordita shops in Aguascalientes, meaning something more than a card table and comal set up on the side of a street. The one we went to is set up in the front section of a family's home in what was probably once the garage. Then we drove out of the city's center along a highway lined with unfinished concrete houses and unpleasant industrial views. We were headed to, what I believe to be, the last vineyard in Aguascalientes. When Margarita was growing up, extensive grape farms surrounded the highway. There was an annual parade where bunches of big, juicy groups were thrown to the townspeople. I couldn't really understand what happened to the grape industry, but it's virtually non-existent now, except for the cultivation that takes place at La Hacienda de Letras under the watch of Chief Enologist Luís Carlos Hernández Chacón. Originally from Chihuahua, Luís studied in France for 5 years and now directs the growing season and wine making at the vineyard, located on a late 1800s hacienda.

Since it's winter the plants were dormant, but we went on a tour nevertheless and heard a platica about the process of cultivating the grapes. Most of the success of each season's wines depends on Mother Nature, as Luis explained to us; while he prays for a dry spring, the corn farmer neighboring the vineyard prays for rain. Only the best grapes of the harvest become wine at Hacienda de Letras; the rest are sold. This operation is still very much at a small scale; Luis produces around 3,000 cases a year and while it takes the time and dedication of a full-time job, he still has to work in another profession to provide for his family. After passing through the fermentation area, we were treated to a nice spread of cheeses and breads while sampling more than 6 of the varieties made on site. Then after a few glasses of wine, I purchased two bottles to share back in Guanajuato with friends.

In the afternoon, we stopped in two pueblitos. In general, Aguas is a very poor state and these were very traditional pueblitos. The first, villa de San Blas (?), was under renovation in preparation for this year's festivities of the Centenario (de la Revolución) and Bicenterario (de la Independencia.) Many places in Aguascalientes and Guanajuato are historically significant to the Bicentenario celebrations because they were stops along the path that Padre Hidalgo took in 1811.

We then drove to the pueblito de San Jose de Gracia, a very poor town that is able to survive from tourist money spent by the faithful visiting Cristo Roto. 14 passenger party boats ferry thousands of people daily to a tiny island in the middle of a presa (the area that includes a dam and the surrounding flooded waters) where a (30 meter) statue of Broken Christ stands on an altar. Surrounding the platform are smaller shrines that represent an image from each of the 40 or so churches in Aguascalientes.

Saturday night Yasmín and I went to the baby shower for her friend, Patti's sister-in-law. The mother to be was around 17 and her husband was 35. It was good to be part of a normal evening with family. As nice as all the sightseeing is, it's good to just sit around with families and talk. There was a very funny woman at the shower who looked like a telenovela star. She wore the seemingly-obligatory mountains of makeup, and a glittery shirt that promoted Herbalife, a small business chain found in Mexico, and in the States, too I think. She spoke super fast with tons of albures, which I didn't get. And according to the definition on Spanichdict.com, I have a little comfort in the fact that I may never get them.

Albures are a distinctive feature of male Mexican lower-class speech. They are rapid-fire puns, chiefly of a sexual nature, which can be stretched into extensive exchanges as each participant tries to top the last speaker's remark. Non-native speakers, no matter how fluent their Spanish, are unlikely to make much sense of an exchange of albures, let alone be able to participate. Indeed, they can be largely incomprehensible even to many Mexicans.

At times I definitely look lost in conversation, but I am really enjoying myself. The exposure to different patterns and styles of speech can only serve to expand my vocabulary and understanding. It just takes a while.

Sunday morning one of Margarita's brothers and his wife joined us for a day in Villa Hidalgo, a small town where their father was born. They told me that the town has changed significantly in the 80 or so years since his birth. What was once a very small pueblito is now a shopping Mecca. People from Aguascalientes and neighboring states come to Hidalgo for streets packed full of clothing retailers. There are tons of good deals to be found, which can be very dangerous for a poor college student with a weakness for fashion.

We also witnessed a parade/pilgrimage down the main avenue. I believe it was honoring the Virgin of Guadalupe, but it could have had something to do with el Día del Candelario, happening a few days later on February 2. Tractor driven floats, 4 wheelers, horses and worshippers made up the 2-hour parade.

After we left Villa Hidalgo we went for dinner at a seafood restaurant in Aguascalientes. And this is where my fun weekend story ends. Maybe I should have known before to eat seafood in central Mexico. Or maybe the following sickness had nothing to do with the octopus and fish I ate. I will just say that there are few experiences more humbling than being very sick in the home of recent acquaintances, while you can't fully express your needs and emotions because of a language barrier. Sunday night and Monday were spent replenishing electrolytes with a healthy dose of MTV Latin America.

Monday I felt well enough to leave the house and accompany the family to Margarita's brother's house, where he was preparing no less than 200 tacos. I politely refused food throughout the whole meal in an effort to stabilize my digestive system. Margarita's brother is very funny and cracked jokes the whole time and also was very interested to know if I had any blue-eyed cousins who wanted to marry his son. (Rosie, are you single?) I think he was only half joking. :)

I continue to be amazed by the generosity of the families I meet. Since the trip to Aguascalientes, I've spent more time with Hector and Margarita. Every Monday Margarita and I meet for English conversation hour. It is very difficult to watch a very bright woman (a professor of college chemistry) become frustrated because she forgets irregular verbs. I try to reassure her that I find it equally as difficult in Spanish. When she exclaimed, "I did it!" after publishing her first blog post, I was cheering along with her.

Chilangolandia

The weekend before last was a whirlwind tour of the most famous attractions of México City. Two years ago I had seen a few of these sites with my group from Cuernavaca, but the pyramids of Teotihuacan and the Palacio Nacional alone are definitely worth more than one trip.

D.F. is about a 5-hour bus ride from Guanajuato. The route we took in offered fantastic views of one strip mall after another chock full of Applebees, Chilis, Rainforest Café, Home Depot, Hooters, and anything else you can think of that screams suburban USA. The outskirts of the city also have some amazing graffiti that seems to change weekly because mostly I saw painted advertisements for shows and clubs – very colorful and original.

We stayed in Hostel Catedral Mexico City, right on the Zócalo on República de Guatemala No. 4. I highly recommend this hostel, which is really clean, cheap and fun. Everything is modern, with good food and drink on site. It can be a little loud at night because all of the rooms in this colonial building have inner windows that look out onto the inner patio. But there are tours that leave from the hostel every day and it’s in the heart of the historic center.

Friday afternoon we toured the Templo Mayor, Catedral, Zócalo and Palacio Nacional. What struck me the most was the proximity of these incredibly old spaces with the bustling commercial district of the center; a chain link fence separates souvenir shops and restaurants from one of the main temples of the Aztec city of Tenochtitlan. The excavation of the Templo Mayor didn’t fully start until 1978, and it’s assumed that if more colonial buildings in the center were knocked down, more Aztec constructions would be found underneath.

I had learned about the 240-year construction of the Catedral but nothing can really prepare you for the sheer size of this church. Like many of the buildings in Mexico City, the foundation is shifting over time. A pendulum hangs in the center of the building that shows the changes in elevation over the last decade.

Later we admired the murals of Diego Rivera inside the Palacio Nacional. I had seen these before, but I could stare at them every day and still be amazed. I can’t fathom the planning that went into their execution, or how all of the different historic figures appear together.

At the end of our tour of the centro histórico, our guide gave us a good tip. To avoid the 40-peso ticket up to the top of the Torre Latino, tell the elevator attendant that you’re going to grab a beer on the top floor. I sipped a jamaica martini while taking in a spectacular view of México City from the 47^th floor. This vantage point offers a little help in understanding the sheer magnitude of the city. On the ground it’s impossible to fathom just how far everything extends. We arrived at dusk, just in time to orient ourselves spatially, watch the clouds and night descend and then follow the traffic patterns of neon lights stretch out in all directions.

Saturday morning we set out early for a long day of sight seeing. The day started at the Plaza de las Tres Culturas, Tlatelolco. This is the site where the last Aztec emperor Cuauhtémoc defended his empire against Hernán Cortes in 1521. It’s also the site of the October 1968 massacre of Mexican university students who were protesting the government’s oppression and involvement in the Olympic games. The monument I photographed lists the names of the 30 or so officially recognized deaths from this massacre, but thousands remain missing. The day after the massacre the plaza was swept clean of any traces of dissent.

We moved on to the Basilica of the Virgin of Guadalupe: it’s more than just one church, however. There’s the old basilica, the new basilica, the church that Saint Juan Diego first went to announcing her appearance, huge sculptures of crosses, approximately 1 thousand vendors selling every last plastic knick knack with her image. Oh and about 20,000 people on a normal day. On “her day,” aka December 12, more than 16 MILLION people come here. Unfortunately I accidentally deleted the mini movie I took while standing on the conveyer belt to witness the very shroud her image first appeared on in 1531. It’s quite the experience: seeing people make the pilgrimage all the way from the parking lot to the basilica on their knees, or groups of 20 and more girls in their white confirmation dresses dancing together. We’ve been to more churches than I can count, and each one feels a little different. (Fun fact! jaja – During the colonial period, the Spaniards built on average one church a week. That’s a whole lotta Catholicism.)

leftover from pilgrimages to the Basilica

We’ve also had quite a few discussions in the Prope session about Mexican religious identity. Is everyone as Catholic as they seem? Answer: no. Many of the elements that are visible in Mexican Catholicism are cultural, like the obsession with Guadalupe. Like in America, many of the faithful aren’t in agreement with certain tenants of the Church. Then there are others who are extremely faithful, like my host mom. She attends mass every day, is part of an apostolic group, does a ton of volunteer work, and occasionally talks to me about how fetuses try to dodge forceps during abortions. Yes it was an awkward moment. But she’s also very loving and reasonable in other regards. Her 35-year-old daughter is divorced and moved back in with her parents so they could help her take care of the two children.

After the Basilica, we drove to Teotihuacan, but were stuck in quintessential D.F. traffic for a very long time in a hot, hot van. Finally we got to the outskirts of the national park and lunched at one of many spots that is combination onyx store/silver jewelry/all souvenirs Mexican and buffet luncheon. I had been to a similar spot on my first Teotihuacan trip but I still enjoyed the demonstration of the different uses of the maguey plant. We were shown how the outer layer was used as paper, how the pointy end of the plant is a pre-threaded needle, and how different flower petals were natural dyes. After we were given samples of pulque, a 24-hour ferment of the liquid that’s sucked out of the maguey, tequila and mescal. After we were all liquored up, they ushered us into the onyx store to buy figurines that no college student could afford. However, in the back room we lunched at an incredible buffet that offered lots of traditional dishes (mole, nopal ‘salad,’ etc) but also some really interesting choices like spinach with pecans and raisins, or the classic elbow macaroni with mayonnaise and ham. Yecch.

We were definitely fortified, maybe too stuffed, for the excursions up the pyramids of the Sun and Moon. The ascent is physically straining but the descent is way more terrifying, as the steps are incredibly narrow and steep. But the view, oh the view. And knowledge that you are standing atop these incredibly important and old temples. Both trips to the top, I kept wondering why were allowed to climb up these incredible archeological ruins. Aren’t we destroying something that should be preserved? Our guide for the day, Umberco (?), an unlikely archeologist, made lots of crude remarks about getting 200 points if we ran over Japanese people. Later we learned the source of his resentment was because a team of Japanese archeologists had “shoddily” excavated the interior of the Pyramid of the Moon and caused large sections to crumble. End result: you can’t scale the whole pyramid. He was entertaining, if nothing else.

Saturday night I explored a little more of the Centro Histórico and found an amazing bookstore, Gandhi – huge amounts of foreign films, music and books, mostly at really low prices. I bought a copy of Saramago’s newest book, Cain, translated into Spanish. Later I ate a mediocre vegetarian restaurant.

Sunday we woke up a bit later, packed our bags and had a really lovely day at two much more low-key destinations. First we went to the Coyoacan neighborhood of DF to tour the Casa Azul, Frida Kahlo museum. This is the house Diego and Frida lived in from 1929 and 1954. It houses a small percentage of their original artwork and rotating exhibitions. At the time of our visit a collection of personal photographs was on exhibit, including many photos that Frida’s father, a German photographer, took of her family. I know, I know... who isn't intrigued by Frida Kahlo, but I couldn't help myself. Walking through her spaces was bittersweet and almost magical.

We finished the weekend lunching on a trajinera (human powered raft) on the canals of Lake Xochimilco. Lake Xochimilco was part of the other lake systems that were home to the Aztecs, Teotihaucanos and Toltecs. Since this is the only place in Mexico City that has access to fresh water, many people live on man made islands and raise bonsais, flowers and vegetables to sell. We had lunch called in ahead of time, so we just relaxed and nibbled as we floated through some intense canal traffic. All kinds of vendors will float up to your trajinera trying to sell their wares. You can buy: a mariachi band for 3+ songs, beers, bonsais, elote (the supremely delicious corn on the cob slathered in mayo, crema, chili, lime and cheese), marimba songs… if you want it, it’s probably for sale.

A totally relaxing way to end the weekend.

¡Que viven los tamales!

My second week in Guanajuato has left me longing to be in the kitchen. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but really I can’t remember the last time someone waited on me like this. My mom even refuses to let me help her with dishes. Desayuno around 8 AM consists of some fresh fruit (pineapple, melon, orange – not papaya, I’m one of those people who thinks it tastes like stomach acid) toast with butter and jam, some frighteningly pink yogurt, and coffee. Sometimes I substitute cereal with soy milk (Splenda added, unfortunately) for the toast.

I typically like to eat a bigger breakfast so it’s taken a little bit of time getting used to a small breakfast and a much later lunch. Comida is served anywhere between 2 and 4 pm. In my house everyone eats at different times. Dad has snacked throughout the day, so he’s not typically hungry. The [grand]children sometimes eat when they get home from school, but they’re often spoon-fed because they’re too distracted while watching cartoons or playing with new gadgets. Mom eats very slowly after the children are done. Her daughter, Rocío, and her boyfriend, Gerardo, eat when they come home from work at the electric company, around 4 o’clock. Sometimes Delia’s son Lalo will stop by around 6 or 7 and eat leftovers.

Delia typically prepares a good amount of food, but not an overwhelming quantity. Comida starts with a soup, usually vegetable of some sort. Today it was cream of chaote, very delicious. 5-year-old Samantha spooned it into her mouth on Ritz crackers. Soup was followed by herbed spaghetti, garlic sautéed mushrooms and a salad. In general, Delia is a very health-conscious cook and her portions are smaller in comparison to some of my classmates. She does not stand over me with a heaping spoon and demand that I have seconds and third helpings. I leave the table satisfied but not stuffed. Other days we will have some type of meat simmered in sauce accompanied with warm, corn tortillas, bought fresh from any one of numerous local tortillerias.

Right now I don’t have any afternoon classes so I go exploring, or take a nap, or try to write. Last night I went to yoga class held in a very cold tile room, with very little flow between the poses. I know I should be able to make the most of the experience despite the conditions, but at this point I still need lots of instruction to stay focused. This is one of the reasons that I can’t practice in my room by myself. Tonight I tried Zumba (aerobics + Latin dance.) I have no rhythm. I made a fool out of myself and it was awesome. I won’t be able to walk up these hills tomorrow most definitely.

La cena is anywhere from 8 to 10pm and does not consist of anything substantial: sometimes a ham sandwich, or some sweet bread. Tonight after Zumba I begged the girls to stop for elote on our walk home. After seeing approximately 15 vendors, we took the 16^th as a sign that we were supposed to indulge. It was the one thing that I had been craving since I got here. We split two cups full of delicious roasted corn cut off the cob and slathered with chili/lime mayo, hot sauce and cheese.

It’s usually too long of a stretch between desayuno y comida for me and I inevitably need a snack. The first week I was buying bad salted products from one of a million OXXO stores (like 7-11.) Then I wizened up and started buying the most delicious gorditas for 9 pesos every morning. Every morning three or four ladies set up shop in a callejon muy cerca de la escuela de lenguas. Two ladies hand press masa into thick circles and then continuously flip them on a large flat circular griddle, el comal. For about 75 cents you get a fat hand-made tortilla stuffed full of chorizo, nopal, arroz, frijoles, huevos, papas, queso, garbanzos and other things I can’t figure out. It’s incredibly delicious and definitely a part of my routine now.

It’s nice to have a routine.

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el comienzo

Yes, indeed, I was supposed to start a blog. I’ve been intensely avoiding this first post. It seems like forever since I’ve journaled, or done any writing for that matter. In elementary and high school, creative writing was my strength and I always saw some form of writing in my future. But I’ve shied away from it in the years that I’ve been in college, and those years in between. Except for the required literature analysis or research paper, I have not written anything of substance in close to 10 years. It actually feels really awful to read that out loud. And yet I know that part of my inability to really be in the present comes from this creative void. Instead of enjoying what is happening right now, I busy myself worrying about tomorrow’s plans or agonizing even more over future problems. Being constructive and creative (challenging myself emotionally and artistically) stimulates me and gives me purpose.

The resistance to starting this blog is logical then, as it involves confronting my shortcomings and, in some ways, starting from scratch. I hate sounding inarticulate or anything less than eloquent. These same fears of imperfection transfer into my second language practice; even though I know I have to practice conversing in Spanish to improve at all, I have been absolutely stubborn about starting conversations with hispanohablantes or beginning a language partnership. I have refused to speak because I fear sounding like a 3 year old. Completely aware that this is counter-productive, I have complacently stayed in the comfortable waters of homeostasis, in just getting-by.

I could make a bunch of corny comparisons here to yoga practice; how I immediately feel emotionally and physically better when I pick up practice after a long hiatus, how creative writing is indeed a practice just like prana or the asanas. But the truth is that both yoga practice and writing make me feel better and neither should embarrass me or me da vergüenza.

Whines and disclaimers aside, here I am. If you choose to follow my posts, thanks. I can only hope that as I continue writing I will gain the fluidity I once had. It’s an interesting choice, given that I’m immersing myself in Spanish for 16 hours of the day (not dreaming en Español todavía.) Some updates might be in English, Spanish, Spanglish. We’ll see.

And where am I exactly? Colonia Pastita, Guanajuato in the state of Guanajuato, México. I arrived Saturday evening and moved in with my new family on Sunday night. My new parents Delia and Lalo (Eduardo) have 5 children in their 30s and 40s. One of their daughters, Rocío, lives with them, as do her children, Samantha and Hector, aged 5 and 7. Mom and Dad are retired from their jobs at the electric company and they’re quite helpful and cheery. They’re quite encouraging and have complimented me multiple times on my conversation abilities.

Along with 11 other American students, I will be studying at the University of Guanajuato through the study abroad program CIEE. Currently we are enrolled in a three-week propedeutico course, designed to acclimate us to certain cultural elements, the Mexican university system, as well as provide an intense review of Spanish grammar.

At the end of the month, I will enroll in at least two courses at the U, which has departments spread out over the city. I hope to take a Mexican film and literature class that is taught by one of the host fathers, a literature professor, and an intro to printmaking course. Additionally I’ll take two classes offered through CIEE: one literature class on revolutionary Mexican novels and the other a sociology class on migration issues.

Bueno, ya es tarde. Adios.