Tuesday, January 26, 2010

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 47th 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.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

¡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 16th 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.

.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

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.