It feels a bit strange to be writing about Mexico from my current location--Herb Chambers Honda service center in Boston. But there is a computer here and I am waiting for my car to get serviced and I would not feel like the story of my trip to Mexico would be complete without writing about what I did the last two days... Xochimilco and Teotihuacan.
Xochimilco (zo-chee-milk-oh) is a series of island-spotted channely waterways in the south of Mexico City. It was once the agricultural center of the Aztec city of Tenochtitlan (were Mexico City now is). Xochimilco still has many greenhouses and a lively plants market, but is is presently best used as a kitschy getaway within the city. Families from the urban area (and tourists from all over) flock to Xochimilco to spend the day (usually Sunday) boating through the channels in bright day-glo boats called trajineras. The trajineras are equipped with a long central table and many chairs as well as a pole-wielding gondolier ready to push the boat amid the islands and the many other trajineras in the water (at times it felt like bumper boats!). The waterways are filled with trajineras full of friends and families, and smaller boats also navigate through it all, offering souvenirs, live mariachi music, cubetas (buckets) of cold beers and sodas, and even a floating restaurant, ready to board your boat, cook up whatever you like, cover your table with a table cloth, and serve you tasty eats as you cruise the verdant waters. Too fun! I spent the day there with Victor and Stephany and a handful of their friends and had an absolutely great time. If I lived in Mexico City I would make Xochimilco a monthly tradition.
The next day I met up with my friend Gaby (who had just flown in from NY) and her buddy Buster. We went to the north side of the city to witness the Basilica de la Virgen de Guadalupe. First, you need to understand that the Virgen of Guadalupe is as prominent (if not more so) as the figure of Jesus Christ in this Catholic country. Supposedly she revealed herself to the indigenous convert Juan Diego and his cloak carried her miraculous image. The cloak is housed behind the altar in a huge modern cathedral, and a moving walkway (yes!) transports pilgrims below the cloak to see it. It was pretty neat. I also saw the PopeMobile of Juan Pable. More amazing, perhaps, was the rows and rows of stalls set up outside "La Villa" selling all manner of religious objects... I found some really kitschy things. Truly tacky.
After this, Gaby and Buster and I headed to Teotihuacan, a pre-Aztec city and civilization with incredibly vast and well-preserved ruins. I cannot describe how amazing it was to be in this place. Highlights include seeing (and climbing) the towering Piramide de la Luna and Piramide del Sol. The former is the third largest pyrimid in the world, behind the pyramid in Cholula (which I saw but does not have much preserved) and the pyramid of Cheops in Egypt. I'm no archeologist so I can't write about all the extra neat things about Teotihuacan, except that it was pretty mind-blowing. However, on the Pyramid of the Moon we met a local fellow named Vikis who was superchido (cool) and with whom we spent the rest of the day. He is a local mountain agriculturist who is happiest when walking outdoors or cooking in the woods. He has played four years of semi-professional soccer and played his wooden flute with the likes of The Rolling Stones and White Child. He knows about every plant and bug in the region, and even fashioned me a bracelet from the fibers of the agave plant and showed us how to eat the fruits of the nopal cactus. We drank pulque with Vikis and he showed us how to find ancient ceramic shards and stone knifes in the dirt. It was incredible! I was sad to have the day end but happy to return to Victor and Stephany's apartment. I got a few hours of sleep before leaving super early to catch my flight to the U.S.
So I am back in the states and having a mixed time transitioning back. The weirdest thing is that it feels like I never left. It felt way too normal to use the computer in the science office at school, far too familiar to drive my car... I hope this doesn't mean I will forget the adventures and lessons of the last two months. I also hope I won't be poorly rested for when school starts. As it is, I am feeling wildly unmotivated to think about work at all (this is unlike me!). There are lots of reflections and thoughts to make about my trip to Mexico, but for now I am digesting being home, and wondering when I'll get to go back.
Thanks to all that have read the blog, posted comments, and sent emails. You have been a part of my adventure and I can't wait to talk to you all soon. Gracias.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
La lucha libre
It is like nothing I have ever seen before. Burly men wearing glittery masks and tights "wrestling" in a ring before thousands of crazed fans. It is what I imagine WWE to be but only 6 or 7 times more fascinating. Lucha libre is mexican professional wrestling, more spectacle than sport, and way more popular here than WWE is in the states. The wrestlers each have their own ring name and personality, some wear (rather freaky) whole-head masks, and duke it out weekly in a partially choreographed partially painful match before scream spectators. I cannot even begin to explain the culture and the sensations of lucha libre, which I experienced first hand last night, so I will lamely include the governing body's website so you can get a glimpse at some video clips, though nothing with come close to actually seeing the event live. Not all luchadores wear the masks, but you can purchase them in nearly any street market, and fans walk the streets and enter the arena wearing the masks of their favorite fighters. The image of a half-naked guy in a mask is normal here, thanks to lucha libre, but I am still a bit freaked out every time I see someone wearing one. There are basically two types of fighters, and every match pits teams of one to three fighters from each category against another team and the winner is determined in three rounds, or caidas. Basically you have the tecnicos ("good guys" who play by the rules) and the rudos (the ones who fight dirty). Sometimes people root for the tecnicos, sometimes for the rudos. A good percentage of the fighting takes place in the ring, ranging from open-handed slapping (permitted), to headlocks, to body slams, to full acrobatic leaps and flips off the ropes and into the air (often landing on an opponent). Often, the fighting leaves the confines of the ring and spills out into the floor with many of the same types of maneuvers. It is not uncommon for spectators in the first few rows to be hurt during a match (our cheap seats were much higher and afforded us a better and safer view). I should make a point of emphasizing the perfomative aspects of the luchas. The wrestlers are skilled performers and at times the fight seems more like an amazing (but brutal) dance, with sequences of amazing maneuvers that are jaw-dropping. How much is raw fight and how much is fixed choreography is up for debate, but both elements are present. Personally, I preferred the latter (I'm not much into violence). There were several matches throughout the course of the evening, and the pitch and excitement of the crowd elevated for each one. Fans of all ages, genders, and walks of life shook their fists, chanted, and cheered and booed. I learned some new bad words in Spanish. I had a super fun time at lucha libre and am bummed that I not seem to be able to capture the experience in words.
All of this, of course, is happening in Mexico City, to which I arrived very early yesterday morning after taking an overnight bus from Puerto Escondido. I sat next to an interesting guy named Oscar who spends six months of the year in Puerto working as a tattoo artist, a job he loves. I also saw High School Musical on the bus.
Even though it means my trip is coming to an end (Tuesday!), I am very happy to be in Mexico City, because it means I get to spend time with some good friends here. I am staying with Victor and Stephany (with whom it is wonderfully easy to spend hours conversing with) and making time to see Sarah and Alexis (from teaching in Puebla). There is much more to say about my time here but my coffee awaits... Adiocito.
All of this, of course, is happening in Mexico City, to which I arrived very early yesterday morning after taking an overnight bus from Puerto Escondido. I sat next to an interesting guy named Oscar who spends six months of the year in Puerto working as a tattoo artist, a job he loves. I also saw High School Musical on the bus.
Even though it means my trip is coming to an end (Tuesday!), I am very happy to be in Mexico City, because it means I get to spend time with some good friends here. I am staying with Victor and Stephany (with whom it is wonderfully easy to spend hours conversing with) and making time to see Sarah and Alexis (from teaching in Puebla). There is much more to say about my time here but my coffee awaits... Adiocito.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
La playa...
You all think I am spending my time and money writing this latest blog entry because I want to keep you informed and entertained. Adorable that you should be thusly fooled, but allow me to disabuse you of such notions with the incontrovertible fact that I am in this internet joint, at the expense of 15 pesos an hour, simply because the sign out front boasted air conditioning. And sweet, sweet artificial temperature control it is!
No really, I do have some things to write about and as anyone who has been to my apartment in August knows, I don't generally go for AC, but heat and sun and exhaustion conspire against me here of the pacific coast, and I am grateful for the relief. Truth is, though, that I am having a fine time on the beach these past few days. At present I am in Puerto Escondido, but let me begin back on Sunday evening, on a street corner in Pochutla...
I had a spectacular grueling 9-hour bus ride through the mountains which presented me with some amazing views, five bad movies, and one vomiting episode (courtesy the combination of carsickness and curvy roads). At the end of this voyage, I tumbled out on to sidewalk in front of the Pochutla bus station, dizzy and without a clue about what I was going to do just then, at 7:30 in the evening. I had thought about spending the night in non-beach Pochutla before striking out to the small, coastal towns. As I contemplated about actually getting a taxi, two Italian women--survivors of the same bus ride--asked me if I was going to Puerto Ángel, a nearish coastal town. When I told them I had no plan, I found myself sharing a taxi with them and eventually a room in a small, hippie B&B with an open-air, thatched-roof, hammock-swinging, chill-music common area (a palapa). On side was adorned with a statue of Shiva and the yoga hut was just up the road, overlooking the ocean. The owner of Casa Penélope, swami-looking Marcos, took good care of us and the other guests (two other Italians and two Canadians) with the able assitance of his daughter, Lluvia, and her husband, Osiel. We dined on simple but delicious homemade quesadillas and a stunning, slightly picante, freshly prepared guacamole.
Unfortunately, we brought rains with our arrival and it poured that night as well as the following morning. As such, I spent the next morning lounging over fresh fruit and homemade yogurt, swinging in a hammock. Márica (one of the Italians) and I eventually braved the clouds to check out the local beach, Playa Panteón, while Sara (the other Italian) and the other more intrepid guests had a two-hour yoga session with Marcos. It was a pleasant place, though the rains had dirtied the water a bit. I contented myself with reading until more drops from the sky forced us to scurry back up the hill to Casa Penélope, but a downpour had us make friends with a local fisherman and seek refuge on his patio until the worst of the washing passed.
That afternoon was spent contentedly sitting around the common area, chatting with all and browsing books. My dream house in taking new forms in my head. One word: cob. After a lounging spell, we all (about eight) climbed into the back of Marco's old Dodge Ram to head to neighboring San Augustinillo to enjoy a now-sunny afternoon on a really nice beach. Reading, swimming, boogie-boarding... Amazing. We ate a fresh meal right on the beach at returned to the hotel around sunset. Showers and some more relaxing preceeded our next trip in the truck to Zipolite, another seaside town known for its hippie chillness. There, we enjoyed snacks and drinks and conversation and stargazing on the torch-lit beach, listening to the waves crashing ashore in the nearby darkness.
The following day (which I think was yesterday), I relaxed in Puerto Ángel (the palapa and the beach) while the others went for a boat tour of beaches and turtles and snorkeling. I must remember to bring my contacts on future trips that involve the ocean! At night I headed with the Italians back to the fateful curb outside the Pochutla bus station as they headed to San Cristóbal en Chiapas while I came west to Puerto Escondido.
Last night here I had dinner with yet another Italian, a sort of strange fellow who wore a fannypack that said WANTED and claimed to be an architect. He was one of the guys in my hostel room, and thankfully he left early this morning. Speaking of which, I should say that all of the guys in my 5-bed hostel room are--well--guys. I don't know if it is supposed to be a mixed dorm or if I was put there by mistake, but I don't really mind. The only thing is that the end of a long hot day on the beach, the room smells like boy.
Today I have lazed on the beach, watched some surfing (something Puerto is known for), and relaxed under thatched-roof eatery while watching the waves, reading my book, and marveling at the size of my veggie club sandwich (literally, a quintuple-decker doosie!). I am trying to avoid heat stroke and dehydration. One big bummer about travelling sola is that it is trickier to go swimming at the beach... no one to watch your stuff. Tomorrow I'll lock stuff up at the hostel and be sure to take a swim. I already have my bus ticket for tomorrow night for the 13-hours overnight trip to Mexico City. I am looking forward to meeting up with some friends there, and I will be back in the US in under a week. By the way, I should say that if you want anything special or particular from Mexico, let me know soon. SJS--I'm on the lookout for your items. Dschwa--I've had your treat for 7 weeks! It is on its way.
No really, I do have some things to write about and as anyone who has been to my apartment in August knows, I don't generally go for AC, but heat and sun and exhaustion conspire against me here of the pacific coast, and I am grateful for the relief. Truth is, though, that I am having a fine time on the beach these past few days. At present I am in Puerto Escondido, but let me begin back on Sunday evening, on a street corner in Pochutla...
I had a spectacular grueling 9-hour bus ride through the mountains which presented me with some amazing views, five bad movies, and one vomiting episode (courtesy the combination of carsickness and curvy roads). At the end of this voyage, I tumbled out on to sidewalk in front of the Pochutla bus station, dizzy and without a clue about what I was going to do just then, at 7:30 in the evening. I had thought about spending the night in non-beach Pochutla before striking out to the small, coastal towns. As I contemplated about actually getting a taxi, two Italian women--survivors of the same bus ride--asked me if I was going to Puerto Ángel, a nearish coastal town. When I told them I had no plan, I found myself sharing a taxi with them and eventually a room in a small, hippie B&B with an open-air, thatched-roof, hammock-swinging, chill-music common area (a palapa). On side was adorned with a statue of Shiva and the yoga hut was just up the road, overlooking the ocean. The owner of Casa Penélope, swami-looking Marcos, took good care of us and the other guests (two other Italians and two Canadians) with the able assitance of his daughter, Lluvia, and her husband, Osiel. We dined on simple but delicious homemade quesadillas and a stunning, slightly picante, freshly prepared guacamole.
Unfortunately, we brought rains with our arrival and it poured that night as well as the following morning. As such, I spent the next morning lounging over fresh fruit and homemade yogurt, swinging in a hammock. Márica (one of the Italians) and I eventually braved the clouds to check out the local beach, Playa Panteón, while Sara (the other Italian) and the other more intrepid guests had a two-hour yoga session with Marcos. It was a pleasant place, though the rains had dirtied the water a bit. I contented myself with reading until more drops from the sky forced us to scurry back up the hill to Casa Penélope, but a downpour had us make friends with a local fisherman and seek refuge on his patio until the worst of the washing passed.
That afternoon was spent contentedly sitting around the common area, chatting with all and browsing books. My dream house in taking new forms in my head. One word: cob. After a lounging spell, we all (about eight) climbed into the back of Marco's old Dodge Ram to head to neighboring San Augustinillo to enjoy a now-sunny afternoon on a really nice beach. Reading, swimming, boogie-boarding... Amazing. We ate a fresh meal right on the beach at returned to the hotel around sunset. Showers and some more relaxing preceeded our next trip in the truck to Zipolite, another seaside town known for its hippie chillness. There, we enjoyed snacks and drinks and conversation and stargazing on the torch-lit beach, listening to the waves crashing ashore in the nearby darkness.
The following day (which I think was yesterday), I relaxed in Puerto Ángel (the palapa and the beach) while the others went for a boat tour of beaches and turtles and snorkeling. I must remember to bring my contacts on future trips that involve the ocean! At night I headed with the Italians back to the fateful curb outside the Pochutla bus station as they headed to San Cristóbal en Chiapas while I came west to Puerto Escondido.
Last night here I had dinner with yet another Italian, a sort of strange fellow who wore a fannypack that said WANTED and claimed to be an architect. He was one of the guys in my hostel room, and thankfully he left early this morning. Speaking of which, I should say that all of the guys in my 5-bed hostel room are--well--guys. I don't know if it is supposed to be a mixed dorm or if I was put there by mistake, but I don't really mind. The only thing is that the end of a long hot day on the beach, the room smells like boy.
Today I have lazed on the beach, watched some surfing (something Puerto is known for), and relaxed under thatched-roof eatery while watching the waves, reading my book, and marveling at the size of my veggie club sandwich (literally, a quintuple-decker doosie!). I am trying to avoid heat stroke and dehydration. One big bummer about travelling sola is that it is trickier to go swimming at the beach... no one to watch your stuff. Tomorrow I'll lock stuff up at the hostel and be sure to take a swim. I already have my bus ticket for tomorrow night for the 13-hours overnight trip to Mexico City. I am looking forward to meeting up with some friends there, and I will be back in the US in under a week. By the way, I should say that if you want anything special or particular from Mexico, let me know soon. SJS--I'm on the lookout for your items. Dschwa--I've had your treat for 7 weeks! It is on its way.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
la Sierra Norte
I'm back in Oaxaca City and I can't believe that just this morning I was trekking though some incredible mountains. I am already sad that I chose to return to the city. I think it was a mistake.
Early yesterday morning (was it just yesterday?!) I got on a bus that climbed up up up into the mountains to the Pueblos Mancomunados. I arrived in Llano Grande (population of about 80) and easily found the ecotourism office, where I met two guys from Spain, Asier and Javier. We decided to share a guide on our hike to Piedra Larga. Our guide showed up shortly and I said to myself, "wow... this kid can't be more than 13 years old!" It turns out Roderigo is 12 and has been guiding for 3 years. And while it may seem suspect to put your life in the hands of a 12 year old boy, let me tell you that this kid was amazing. He knew the land like the back of his hand, and expertly and effortlessly led us on a 4 hour hike. The trails were well-maintained but entirely unmarked; even a hearty woodsperson would be lost on the network of forked paths and turnoffs in a matter of 30 minutes. But Roderigo confidently led the way. Just think for a minute... imagine the place you know best...maybe your hometown, maybe where you live now. Be it a city or completely rural, could YOU walk in any direction for 2 hours and know where you are without a map? And speaking of maps, Roderigo never uses one. Turns out he just learned the land from growing up there and taking walks. No compass, no map, no problem.
The hike itself was wonderful. After 2 hours of hiking through such varied fauna (at one point giant grasses made me feel like I was in the movie Honey, I Shrunk the Kids)and peeking at lovely views and crossing all manner of fascinating contraptions to go through, over, and around fences designed to keep cows in place, we made it to our destination... a rocky outcrop with such breathtaking views and mind-twisting altitude that I could decide if I should pass out with joy or faint from fear. I will one day (I hope) get the pictures up, but I'm not rushing since they will do no justice to the experience. I was perfectly content on the hike back and after sharing a soda with Roderigo and the Spanish guys, I headed for my mountain cabana. I took an amazing hot shower (better than in most hostels), visited the outhouse, and cozied up under many blankets... at 3200 meters above sea level, it got pretty chilly! Let me tell you, there is no happiness quite like a wonderful hike, a warm shower, and snuggling under thick covers in a quiet mountain pueblo on a cold night. I was about as content as could be.
This morning I took a bus to a larger (population 1000) pueblo neighboring Llano Grande called Cuajilomoyas. I happened to meet my guide for the day before even reaching the office, as she was the lady I asked for directions. Sonia was a kind woman who led me through the woods while wearing a kitchen apron, sweater, skirt, and what appeared to be house slippers. This lady was awesome. She pointed out all manner of plants and flowers, explaining their names and various medicinal properties. She was a walking treasure trove of natural medicine knowledge, and dispensed her wisdom easily and casually. On our walk we encountered numerous wonders, such as a strange pond that looks opaque and green until you throw in some bread crumbs to feed the fish who then furiously swim to the surface. The trails were twisted and interesting, full of exciting tight curves, ascents, and descents... and wonderful, verdant scenery. Our destination was el Canon del Coyote, a narrow passage between two sheer rocks, at the end of which is a coyote den. We also trekked through a cave (Cueva de Calveria?) where pueblo residents hid during the government attacks during the Revolution. Right around the cave was el Mirador de Calveria, a spiny rocky pinnacle that poked up through the trees, affording rewarding views to those who climbed it (we only went partway, due to ye olde fear of heights that I was sure to pack in my bag). Further along, though, we went to el Mirador de Piedra Colorada, another outlook with a slightly more inviting summit. There Sonia and I sat and ate snacks and chatted and drank in the majesty of the experience. The hike back was more or less along a dirt road, affording a more relaxed walk (and a chance to look at the various bulls and cows and goats in the area).
When we arrived back at the town and the office, I foolishly decided not to spend the night (oh regret) and caught the next bus back to the city. As if to make up for my mistake, I went ahead this afternoon and booked my all-day bus ride to the coast tomorrow. I am not generally a beach person, but I am going to try and keep an open mind and spend a few days taking in the Pacific. I have some reservations about the next 5 days of my trip, though it is nothing I can put my finger on. I hope my nameless hunches are foundless.
I am excited, however, to return to Mexico City after that and spend some time there with new friends. And then... back to the US. I think I am ready, which is good.
Best wishes to all.
Early yesterday morning (was it just yesterday?!) I got on a bus that climbed up up up into the mountains to the Pueblos Mancomunados. I arrived in Llano Grande (population of about 80) and easily found the ecotourism office, where I met two guys from Spain, Asier and Javier. We decided to share a guide on our hike to Piedra Larga. Our guide showed up shortly and I said to myself, "wow... this kid can't be more than 13 years old!" It turns out Roderigo is 12 and has been guiding for 3 years. And while it may seem suspect to put your life in the hands of a 12 year old boy, let me tell you that this kid was amazing. He knew the land like the back of his hand, and expertly and effortlessly led us on a 4 hour hike. The trails were well-maintained but entirely unmarked; even a hearty woodsperson would be lost on the network of forked paths and turnoffs in a matter of 30 minutes. But Roderigo confidently led the way. Just think for a minute... imagine the place you know best...maybe your hometown, maybe where you live now. Be it a city or completely rural, could YOU walk in any direction for 2 hours and know where you are without a map? And speaking of maps, Roderigo never uses one. Turns out he just learned the land from growing up there and taking walks. No compass, no map, no problem.
The hike itself was wonderful. After 2 hours of hiking through such varied fauna (at one point giant grasses made me feel like I was in the movie Honey, I Shrunk the Kids)and peeking at lovely views and crossing all manner of fascinating contraptions to go through, over, and around fences designed to keep cows in place, we made it to our destination... a rocky outcrop with such breathtaking views and mind-twisting altitude that I could decide if I should pass out with joy or faint from fear. I will one day (I hope) get the pictures up, but I'm not rushing since they will do no justice to the experience. I was perfectly content on the hike back and after sharing a soda with Roderigo and the Spanish guys, I headed for my mountain cabana. I took an amazing hot shower (better than in most hostels), visited the outhouse, and cozied up under many blankets... at 3200 meters above sea level, it got pretty chilly! Let me tell you, there is no happiness quite like a wonderful hike, a warm shower, and snuggling under thick covers in a quiet mountain pueblo on a cold night. I was about as content as could be.
This morning I took a bus to a larger (population 1000) pueblo neighboring Llano Grande called Cuajilomoyas. I happened to meet my guide for the day before even reaching the office, as she was the lady I asked for directions. Sonia was a kind woman who led me through the woods while wearing a kitchen apron, sweater, skirt, and what appeared to be house slippers. This lady was awesome. She pointed out all manner of plants and flowers, explaining their names and various medicinal properties. She was a walking treasure trove of natural medicine knowledge, and dispensed her wisdom easily and casually. On our walk we encountered numerous wonders, such as a strange pond that looks opaque and green until you throw in some bread crumbs to feed the fish who then furiously swim to the surface. The trails were twisted and interesting, full of exciting tight curves, ascents, and descents... and wonderful, verdant scenery. Our destination was el Canon del Coyote, a narrow passage between two sheer rocks, at the end of which is a coyote den. We also trekked through a cave (Cueva de Calveria?) where pueblo residents hid during the government attacks during the Revolution. Right around the cave was el Mirador de Calveria, a spiny rocky pinnacle that poked up through the trees, affording rewarding views to those who climbed it (we only went partway, due to ye olde fear of heights that I was sure to pack in my bag). Further along, though, we went to el Mirador de Piedra Colorada, another outlook with a slightly more inviting summit. There Sonia and I sat and ate snacks and chatted and drank in the majesty of the experience. The hike back was more or less along a dirt road, affording a more relaxed walk (and a chance to look at the various bulls and cows and goats in the area).
When we arrived back at the town and the office, I foolishly decided not to spend the night (oh regret) and caught the next bus back to the city. As if to make up for my mistake, I went ahead this afternoon and booked my all-day bus ride to the coast tomorrow. I am not generally a beach person, but I am going to try and keep an open mind and spend a few days taking in the Pacific. I have some reservations about the next 5 days of my trip, though it is nothing I can put my finger on. I hope my nameless hunches are foundless.
I am excited, however, to return to Mexico City after that and spend some time there with new friends. And then... back to the US. I think I am ready, which is good.
Best wishes to all.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Monte Albán y los Valles Centrales
Most of the time I am eager to update my blog, ready to describe all sorts of adventures and ruminations. Strangely, I have not felt the same enthusiasm for typing things up in an entertaining but factual manner, and I apologize to you, my loyal reader(s). My stay in Oaxaca has been enjoyable and protracted. Yesterday I went to nearby Monte Albán, a majestic hilltop site of what used to be the capital of the Zapotec empire. Even though the site is old and is considered "las ruinas," the structures are rather well preserved (have only been discovered and cleared from the jungle in the last century). It was breathtaking--stunning vistas of the ancient city and distant valleys and mountains, magnificent stone edifices and pyramids, gloriously perfect weather... I can't wait to upload the pictures (I've been rather lame in that area). That afternoon I visited la Central de Abastos, a HUGE market full of mazes of stalls of EVERYTHING you could want to buy... from produces to clothes to pet supplies to pets to meats to accessories to health supplies to hardware to electronics to homegoods to live turkeys. Yep, get your live turkey here is aisle 124-A3 (actually there are no aisle numbers... the best way to navigate is to wander aimlessly and for a long time taking random turns and ducking your head from the low-hanging mechandise). Today I visited another Zapotec site at Mitla... this city became the HQ of the zapotecs when Monte Albán declined, and the ruins there are less grand in scale but sport some amazing geometric stone work and a few underground "tumbas." It is worth noting that Oaxaca is the most diverse state in Mexico, with numerous indigenous populations and over 15 indigenous languages spoken. Zapotecs are the most populus in the Central Valleys where Oaxaca City is located, and you can hear it being spoken on the street if you listen carefully in the right places. One of those places is Tlacolula, a city between Oaxaca and Mitla where I stopped for a peek around, as is El Tule, a nearby pueblo boasting a gigantic cypress tree that is over 2000 years old and very, very large. Last night I managed to get into a presentation of classical music in one of the theatres for free here, and I am going to try and do the same tonight, as I have befriended the gentlemen who has access to the extra tickets. That having been said, I have found it less easy to make all kinds of new friends in the recent part of my trip. I don't know if I am less outgoing or I have just been less lucky in meeting friendly travellers, but I've been keeping to myself more lately. (Not that this prevented the guy next to me on the bus today from going on and on about "kids these days" and his thoughts about going to the US... I didn't understand most of what he said, but he seemed content to hear himself pontificate and felt encouraged to continue by a simple nod or two on my behalf.) Tomorrow I am headed into the Sierra Norte mountains for two days of hiking. The area I will be in are the Pueblos Mancomunadas, a commonwealth of villages that operate as a somewhat autonomous group, who have collectivelly decided to support their land and pueblos through ecotourism. I wish I were able to go with someone, another traveller perhaps, but no such luck. I am smart enough, however, to have hired a guide and I hope he or she (probably he) will turn out to be friendly company. A big shout out to recent birthday buddies (KA, SJS, RPS), and I wish everyone health and happiness. I am eager to share both with you soon!
(On a side note... in my spare time I have kept busy by designing my dream house and "solving"--i.e. frustratedly but doggedly working on--a cheaply made faux Rubik's Cube...)
(On a side note... in my spare time I have kept busy by designing my dream house and "solving"--i.e. frustratedly but doggedly working on--a cheaply made faux Rubik's Cube...)
Monday, July 30, 2007
¡Guelaguetza!
So I made it to Oaxaca with fairly little trouble, and despite concerns, things seem rather stable and safe here.... at least on the visible surface. I awoke early this morning to head to a hilltop auditorioum (think enormous ampitheater) for the annual folkloric festival called Guelaguetza. The show started at ten, but the place was almost full by 7-ish when I arrived (or at least the free, first-come-first-serve sections up in the nosebleeds were). Nonetheless, TONS of people continued to flood in and packed the place fuller than I ever imagined possible. Vendors roamed and put Fenway hawkers to shame with their maneuvering. It got hotter and more and more packed and finally... on the small round stage below, a series of wonderful folk dances unfolded, performed by skilled dancers in exquisite costumes to the sounds of a live, jamming band. Between numbers, freebie hats and fans and t-shirts were chucked into the crowd from behind, creating even more excitement. The dances included paired numbers; a presicely choreographed pineapple dance; a fun number with guys in suits and ties and tassley chaps and horns and whips; and more. I stayed on my little concrete perched, wedged between so many people, until about 12:45, when I decided to bail. The crowds outside the auditorio were as tight and excited as those within, but with the added fun of more vendors. I found a Rubik's cube and hope to figure out how to solve more than one face. I also snacked on all kinds of delicious street food and saw a guy demonstrating a Magic Extractor... as seen on TV! Wiped from the day, I returned to my no-name hostel for a brief rest, but I still feel really tired, as perhaps evidenced from the relative boringness of my description of what was actually a very cool day.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
On the road again...
So my stint as hard-working teacher of "talented" kids has come and gone, and I find myself again in the same hostel in Puebla as before going to Cholula. I am back to the life of half-showers with Dr. Bronner's all-in-one soap, saggy mattresses with many bunkmates, meals taken alone, and only occasional conversations with strangers. But I am also re-entering the world of minimal responsibility, of unknown (mis)adventure, of time with my own thoughts, of new places. I miss some of the creature comforts and routine of working at the camp, but what I will feel the lack of more so is the company of some of the good people I met there.
Meanwhile, I am about to head to Oaxaca, but there is a bit of turmoil there and I am overhearing some travellers here deciding against their trip there based on the political troubles. I am going to go anyway, but keeping on a high guard and prepared to curtail my stay at a moment's notice.
As always, please send your notes and comments. They are more welcome than ever.
Meanwhile, I am about to head to Oaxaca, but there is a bit of turmoil there and I am overhearing some travellers here deciding against their trip there based on the political troubles. I am going to go anyway, but keeping on a high guard and prepared to curtail my stay at a moment's notice.
As always, please send your notes and comments. They are more welcome than ever.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
!Festejamos!
Bueno, the session has finally come to an end. We taught our last classes today, had closing ceremonies, enjoyed a great mariachi band during lunch, danced the night away at the last dance, sipped hot chocolate and "toasted" marshmallows over a (somewhat unimpressive) bonfire, etc. etc... The kids made me a nice poster as a surprise, and one kid said I was the best teacher he ever had, and I think he meant it! I was less encouraged when reading the final assessment of others, but overall I think all of them learned some biotechnology (although the range is enormous).
After the bonfire, several of the TA's and I went to an amazingly hip and down-to-earth and tranquilo and super-padre (very cool) bar called Bar Pulque Para Dos. Pulque is a low-alcohol drink made from a cactus-like plant that sometimes comes in fruity flavors. The bar was decorated in that we've-made-trash-look-artsy-and-way-cool sort of manner, and two guys were amateurly but wonderfully rocking out on a candle-lit stage, reviving classics from my middle-school and early-high school years.... Pearl Jam, Weezer, GNR, Soundgarden, Erasure, Incubus, and more. It was AMAZING. The folks I went with were so great... fun, easygoing, life-grabbing people. I could have stayed there all night, but came back "early" (around 1:30) so as to assure myself a spot in a car. I'm not sad about the kids leaving, or about being done with teaching (is that bad?), but I will miss some of the staff here and do wish I had spent more time with them (if only all that bloody lesson-planning hadn't gotten in the way!).
Ahora voy a dormir, y mañana visitaré la pirámide aquí en Cholula (fue la más grande en el mundo). Por la noche hará una cena de agradaciemiento y creo que sería divertido. Además, es posible que saldré con Sarah y Gabriela y Violeta después.... todavía no sé. A ver... Y el sábado resumo mis viajes de nuevo.
After the bonfire, several of the TA's and I went to an amazingly hip and down-to-earth and tranquilo and super-padre (very cool) bar called Bar Pulque Para Dos. Pulque is a low-alcohol drink made from a cactus-like plant that sometimes comes in fruity flavors. The bar was decorated in that we've-made-trash-look-artsy-and-way-cool sort of manner, and two guys were amateurly but wonderfully rocking out on a candle-lit stage, reviving classics from my middle-school and early-high school years.... Pearl Jam, Weezer, GNR, Soundgarden, Erasure, Incubus, and more. It was AMAZING. The folks I went with were so great... fun, easygoing, life-grabbing people. I could have stayed there all night, but came back "early" (around 1:30) so as to assure myself a spot in a car. I'm not sad about the kids leaving, or about being done with teaching (is that bad?), but I will miss some of the staff here and do wish I had spent more time with them (if only all that bloody lesson-planning hadn't gotten in the way!).
Ahora voy a dormir, y mañana visitaré la pirámide aquí en Cholula (fue la más grande en el mundo). Por la noche hará una cena de agradaciemiento y creo que sería divertido. Además, es posible que saldré con Sarah y Gabriela y Violeta después.... todavía no sé. A ver... Y el sábado resumo mis viajes de nuevo.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
We now (almost) return to our regularly scheduled blogging...
So my blog has been pretty lame lately (as one Colorado reader pointed out to me--thanks KA!), but basically I have been working crazy hours with little free time and even less interest in writing about what I do, which is work crazy hours with little free time. (In a week I'll be back to the sort of ambulatory and verbal ramblings that I prefer, not to worry.) In the moments that I do take away from work I am trying to spend time with some of the folks here. On Friday I organized another instructor outing (this time to nearby Cholula) for dinner, strolling, and conversation. It was quite nice talking with other adults about everything from mathematical theories to prehispanic civilizations to tv classics like Saved By The Bell (a few of us could sing the entire theme song... I was strangely proud and mortified at once). On Saturday I spent the whole day writing evals--full-page narrative evaluations for each of my 16 students. Not fun. Today, however, was worth all the working ahead. I spent a few more hours on the damn things in the morning but in the afternoon I went into Puebla with another teacher, Sarah, to visit a park called Analco and meet a friend of a friend and check out the political theatre performance there. The parque was absolutely full of life... throngs of strolling, smiling, Sunday-serene people on open green spaces, crowded in market stall walkways, eating, selling, laughing, bursting with color. Sarah enjoyed a tequila-flavored nieve (like Italian ice) in a chili-lined cup. Given my recent excursion to the agave-lined town of the same name, I took only a small taste of the tequila nieve, only to find it tasted more like the sweet, syrupy indian drink "khus" than a gag-inducing alcohol. It has been years since I have thought of khus! On a side note, a TA was weaving a lanyard so of course I had to introduce her to Billy Collins' poem "The Lanyard." It is an amazing little reflection on this timeless camp craft, but also on the idea of parity. Check out the text of the poem here or better yet, listen to Collins read his own work (the only way to do it justice) here (you'll need RealPlayer...I suggest you listen to the whole clip but if you are ansty, scroll ahead to 5:20). Anyway, I tried to explain to those that would listen that the poem included an allusion to Marcel Proust's "petites madeleines" and went on and on about the power of a galleta famosa (famous cookie) to conjure a fuller memory than any mere sense. I was received with blank looks from everyone, and began for a moment to doubt my sanity. Did I invent this literary allusion? Am I not as well-read as I claim to be? Well, the truth is that I have never read any Proust, but I am familiar with this madeleine business and anyway I'm pretty certain my brother (the renassaince man) has read it and that's good enough for me. Anyway, a little internet "research" revealed that the great writer did in fact compose something about a galleta (a cake, really). Naturally, I immediately send the excerpt from "Remembrance of Things Past" to everyone who doubted me. What to make of this digression? Well, the same effect those madeleines had on Proust overcame me as I tasted the khus undertones in Sarah's tequila nieve. Suddenly I was in Naperville, watching my mom mix the thick, green syrup with milk in gold-rimmed glasses to serve on a silver tray to guests sitting in the living room. With another sip I found myself looking out onto the porch swing, where my dad is sitting and laughing at something or other, drinking the sweet liquid through a straw. Of all the things to hit me in the middle of a park in Mexico--khus. Too much!
Anyway, back the the tale at hand... Sarah and I found the site of the play after wandering the through the joys of the park. Under a large tent, a rectangle of chairs framed a central "stage" where numerous couples danced a metered but incredible dance called "danzón." Sarah declined a request to dance from an older friendly gentlemen (we are both self-diagnosed as dance-floor incompetent), and eventually the couples cleared for the play. Entitled "Mujer no se escribe con M de macho," this three-act one-woman show raised issues of women's rights and more in an engaging, entertaining, and effective manner. Gabriela, a friend of a friend (OG), was the actress and the reason we came. Unfortunately, during the second act, it began to drizzle and the crowd inched in under the tent. Then, it began to rain and chairs were moved inward. Presently, it began to pour and the stage became smaller and smaller as people sought shelter in the tent and the circle of spectators pinched in. At last, the skies gave rain and wind that made me reference Noah, and the show had to stop. The large tent began to leak and gave way to cascading floods of water in a few places. Smaller tents billowed and tumbled in the wind. Strangers became neighbors and neighbors became friends and everything became wet. Other than the fact that the torrent caused the show to stop after the second act, the experience was amazing. Everything transpired in a sort of comic, unbelievable way. I half expected Kafka to peek around the corner and grin. The good news is that after practicing the Mexican art of waiting patiently (used for almost any situation here), Sarah and I managed to meet up with Gabriela and her girlfriend, Violeta. We four passed a most wonderful afternoon together, eating cemitas (a sandwich made from a local bread), walking through town, laughing at my liguistic faux pas in Spanish, standing slack-jawed in the gold-encrusted Capilla de Rosario, sipping coffee drinks, and fruitlessly searching for Rubik's cubes. It was an amazing moment in time, and I am thrilled to have grabbed it. It made even the downsides (missing the student talent show; losing the ring I got in Córdoba, Argentina; having to stay up working on evals) seem not so bad at all. Upon our return to UDLA, I found myself locked out of my dorm--mystical forces kept both my cardkey and the master cardkey from working. But a few rounds of musical keys with those of my roommates and a fair bit of good ol' waiting around, I managed to get in (though I am now afraid to leave since my key still doesn't work). Tomorrow morning we are joining the Medical Sciences and Pharmacology class on a field trip to a pharmaceutical plant, and all I can think about it how I cannot wait for it to be Friday. I am antsy pansty to be done with this program and get back to living life, now that I had a taste of it again today.
Anyway, back the the tale at hand... Sarah and I found the site of the play after wandering the through the joys of the park. Under a large tent, a rectangle of chairs framed a central "stage" where numerous couples danced a metered but incredible dance called "danzón." Sarah declined a request to dance from an older friendly gentlemen (we are both self-diagnosed as dance-floor incompetent), and eventually the couples cleared for the play. Entitled "Mujer no se escribe con M de macho," this three-act one-woman show raised issues of women's rights and more in an engaging, entertaining, and effective manner. Gabriela, a friend of a friend (OG), was the actress and the reason we came. Unfortunately, during the second act, it began to drizzle and the crowd inched in under the tent. Then, it began to rain and chairs were moved inward. Presently, it began to pour and the stage became smaller and smaller as people sought shelter in the tent and the circle of spectators pinched in. At last, the skies gave rain and wind that made me reference Noah, and the show had to stop. The large tent began to leak and gave way to cascading floods of water in a few places. Smaller tents billowed and tumbled in the wind. Strangers became neighbors and neighbors became friends and everything became wet. Other than the fact that the torrent caused the show to stop after the second act, the experience was amazing. Everything transpired in a sort of comic, unbelievable way. I half expected Kafka to peek around the corner and grin. The good news is that after practicing the Mexican art of waiting patiently (used for almost any situation here), Sarah and I managed to meet up with Gabriela and her girlfriend, Violeta. We four passed a most wonderful afternoon together, eating cemitas (a sandwich made from a local bread), walking through town, laughing at my liguistic faux pas in Spanish, standing slack-jawed in the gold-encrusted Capilla de Rosario, sipping coffee drinks, and fruitlessly searching for Rubik's cubes. It was an amazing moment in time, and I am thrilled to have grabbed it. It made even the downsides (missing the student talent show; losing the ring I got in Córdoba, Argentina; having to stay up working on evals) seem not so bad at all. Upon our return to UDLA, I found myself locked out of my dorm--mystical forces kept both my cardkey and the master cardkey from working. But a few rounds of musical keys with those of my roommates and a fair bit of good ol' waiting around, I managed to get in (though I am now afraid to leave since my key still doesn't work). Tomorrow morning we are joining the Medical Sciences and Pharmacology class on a field trip to a pharmaceutical plant, and all I can think about it how I cannot wait for it to be Friday. I am antsy pansty to be done with this program and get back to living life, now that I had a taste of it again today.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Mejor... hoy es el viernes, por lo menos
Okay, so problems are getting solved one by one here and things are improving. At the very least, today is Friday, and that is good.
All the poo-poo of job problems aside, some things are quite nice here. As I mentioned earlier, the campus is beautiful and the weather is perfecto. My students are great: a diverse, quirky bunch. I have some who are frighteningly bright and others who are annoying and others who are thoughtful and sweet and others who I can´t figure out. They love playing "Wah!" (a game I taught them) and getting off-topic. Despite many obstacles in the lab component of the course, things are slowly getting underway (though it is hard to do a DNA extraction with one micropipette and 16 students). A real perk is the people who I´ve met, particularly the Mexican staff. As I´ve mentioned, Mexicans in general are very friendly, and I´ve enjoyed chatting with and joking with some of the UDLA students who are working in the program this summer. I went with a bunch of them to the midnight premier of the new Harry Potter movie--which was fun but totally insane considering it was on Wednesday night in a week of 15-hour work days. This weekend I plan to rest, do laundry, do lots of work, and maybe go out and get dinner tomorrow at a place where I don´t have to eat my food off a tray. Thanks to everyone who has emailed me or left a comment. I hope you are well!
All the poo-poo of job problems aside, some things are quite nice here. As I mentioned earlier, the campus is beautiful and the weather is perfecto. My students are great: a diverse, quirky bunch. I have some who are frighteningly bright and others who are annoying and others who are thoughtful and sweet and others who I can´t figure out. They love playing "Wah!" (a game I taught them) and getting off-topic. Despite many obstacles in the lab component of the course, things are slowly getting underway (though it is hard to do a DNA extraction with one micropipette and 16 students). A real perk is the people who I´ve met, particularly the Mexican staff. As I´ve mentioned, Mexicans in general are very friendly, and I´ve enjoyed chatting with and joking with some of the UDLA students who are working in the program this summer. I went with a bunch of them to the midnight premier of the new Harry Potter movie--which was fun but totally insane considering it was on Wednesday night in a week of 15-hour work days. This weekend I plan to rest, do laundry, do lots of work, and maybe go out and get dinner tomorrow at a place where I don´t have to eat my food off a tray. Thanks to everyone who has emailed me or left a comment. I hope you are well!
Monday, July 9, 2007
Voy a vomitar...
...but not because of my former GI issues (which, by the way, have mostly been resolved). Actually, I´m about to lose my head about my job here. I really am not interested in publically kvetching, but as far as keeping an honest blog about how I am, I would have to say generally.... mal (that´s Spanish for "bad"). I never thought I´d say this, but I actually miss my job at Dana Hall. It is a pretty functional place.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
La enfermidad
Well it was bound to happen. I got really sick yesterday (sharp abdominal pains, diarrhea, body aches, fever, etc.) and went to the clinic. The doctor decided the offending food item was mole poblano (an area speciality), prescribed some drugs, and I spent the evening in bed. Luckily, I am on the mend, though not at 100%. But I´ve got all other manners of pains now that the program is underway. However, I´m going to keep my bellyaching to a minimum, or at least not on a public website!
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Puebla and la UDLA
Well here I am at la Universidad de las Americas (la ood-la) where I will be spending the next 3.5 weeks completely consumed with the summer program and the biotechnology course I´m teaching. Before I describe the place though, let me backtrack...
After Guanajuato, I made the bus trip to Mexico City (5 hrs) and then made a transfer to a bus to Puebla (2 hrs). The exciting part came when I tried to get from the Puebla bus station to the center of town. I managed to figure out which combi to take but--despite my vigilance--failed to get off anywhere near the centro. When I realized that we were WAY past the centro, I explained my predicament to the bus driver, who dropped me off at the next stop and told me to get the next combi coming the other direction. Well, by this point I had been travelling for about 11 hours and not only had to pee but was also getting hungry (I´d eaten a serving of yogurt and several handfuls of trail mix during the day). So I stopped in to the nearest retail establishment I could find. It was a Wal*mart Supercenter. THAT´s how far out of town I was.
So I checked my pack in at the bag drop (and got some strange looks) and then made a beeline for the restroom. At this point it started raining outside so I decided to pass a few minutes exploring the Puebla Wal*mart and picking up a few things (cheese, bread, yogurt, pear) to eat. The Wal*mart is, predicatably, like almost every other Wal*mart in the world--enormous, bright, and advertising "precios bajos--siempre." But small differences stuck out... At the bakery, you pick up a pizza tray and tongs and pluck out your breads and pastries from big bins and put them on your tray. A lady then bags and prices them for you to take to check out. And instead of 4 or 5 "express--20 items or less" lines, there is just one express line that feeds into 4 or 5 registers. So much more efficient! And the food court had, of course, all manner of mexican fare. The place was huge and I got a good chuckle out of the fact that being lost in Mexico put me straight back into the most American of chain stores.
I eventually made it to the centro (thanks to a variety of friendly combi-riders) and checked into a pleasant hostel where I passed the evening with some very relaxed Danish guys, a rather serious French fellow, and an American living in Oaxaca who I couldn´t really figure out.
The next day was relatively low-key: some sight-seeing and walking around punctuated by midday naps. Puebla is a city of nearly 2 million people, but remains relatively sedate due to the lack of towering buildings (several stories at the most) and strong remnants of Spanish influence in the plaza, pedestrian streets, and tile-facade buildings. It has over 70 churches and the main cathedral is stunning inside (which is saying something in a Catholic country with lots of impressive cathedrals). Most interesting to me, though, was the market. Vendors selling all manner of fruits, vegetables, seasonings, or seeds displayed and orally advertised their products in an extensive maze of stalls in the semi-indoor market. The variety of produce was overwhelming--so many colors and shapes and flavors. I definitely could not name everything I saw there in either English or Spanish! The most fascinating parts of the market, though, were the carnicerías (butcher stands). On giant slabs of marble you could get up close and personal with nearly any part of any animal. Whole chickens, some still getting plucked, were piled high like so many rubber prank toys. Giant bins of chicken feet or livers or breasts could be found. Need a hairy goat head? A dozen of them await you in aisle 6 on a shelf of ice. Blue light special. Have a gander at the woman carving into pig hooves with a cleaver or look over your shoulder to the racks of cow halves dangling from hooks. Pig heads, sheep entrails, things I could not even identify! Fresh for the buying! I was spun around with a mix of awe and fascination as well as disgust while trying to keep my breakfast down. Not exactly the shrink-wrapped Tyson packages you find at your local Stop & Shop. I ended up buying some grapes and the cutest avocado ever.
That evening I spent with two Americans each on very extensive travel trips (think on the order of 9 months to more) and a rather overwhelming Australian woman who wore thin on me pretty fast.
Here at UDLA I´ve meet some of the staff (all are very nice) and settled into my room. I will be staying in a 4-room suite but the others haven´t arrived yet. The lodging is nicer than any suite I had in college, and the campus (what I´ve seen so far) is quite pleasant. There is a rose garden (some bushes 300 years old!) and peacocks and ducks roam the grounds rather contentedly. Check out some pictures of UDLA here. I´m having a fair bit of mixed emotions about the program, but most of the unsettled feelings are due to the fact that I find myself once again in the waiting-for-things-to-happen-so-I-know-what-to-expect mode. Orientation starts tomorrow night and I am going to try and do some course work tomorrow. The big coup for today is doing laundry. What a treat!
I have a phone in my suite that can receive calls, so if you are dying to say hello, let me know and I´ll give you the number. You can call Mexico (and a lot of other countries) for 2 cents a minute using PennyTalk. I´ll put up some more pictures soon, but for now I hope everyone is well. Thanks again to those of you that read and post comments. Even when I can´t respond individually, I am thinking about you!
After Guanajuato, I made the bus trip to Mexico City (5 hrs) and then made a transfer to a bus to Puebla (2 hrs). The exciting part came when I tried to get from the Puebla bus station to the center of town. I managed to figure out which combi to take but--despite my vigilance--failed to get off anywhere near the centro. When I realized that we were WAY past the centro, I explained my predicament to the bus driver, who dropped me off at the next stop and told me to get the next combi coming the other direction. Well, by this point I had been travelling for about 11 hours and not only had to pee but was also getting hungry (I´d eaten a serving of yogurt and several handfuls of trail mix during the day). So I stopped in to the nearest retail establishment I could find. It was a Wal*mart Supercenter. THAT´s how far out of town I was.
So I checked my pack in at the bag drop (and got some strange looks) and then made a beeline for the restroom. At this point it started raining outside so I decided to pass a few minutes exploring the Puebla Wal*mart and picking up a few things (cheese, bread, yogurt, pear) to eat. The Wal*mart is, predicatably, like almost every other Wal*mart in the world--enormous, bright, and advertising "precios bajos--siempre." But small differences stuck out... At the bakery, you pick up a pizza tray and tongs and pluck out your breads and pastries from big bins and put them on your tray. A lady then bags and prices them for you to take to check out. And instead of 4 or 5 "express--20 items or less" lines, there is just one express line that feeds into 4 or 5 registers. So much more efficient! And the food court had, of course, all manner of mexican fare. The place was huge and I got a good chuckle out of the fact that being lost in Mexico put me straight back into the most American of chain stores.
I eventually made it to the centro (thanks to a variety of friendly combi-riders) and checked into a pleasant hostel where I passed the evening with some very relaxed Danish guys, a rather serious French fellow, and an American living in Oaxaca who I couldn´t really figure out.
The next day was relatively low-key: some sight-seeing and walking around punctuated by midday naps. Puebla is a city of nearly 2 million people, but remains relatively sedate due to the lack of towering buildings (several stories at the most) and strong remnants of Spanish influence in the plaza, pedestrian streets, and tile-facade buildings. It has over 70 churches and the main cathedral is stunning inside (which is saying something in a Catholic country with lots of impressive cathedrals). Most interesting to me, though, was the market. Vendors selling all manner of fruits, vegetables, seasonings, or seeds displayed and orally advertised their products in an extensive maze of stalls in the semi-indoor market. The variety of produce was overwhelming--so many colors and shapes and flavors. I definitely could not name everything I saw there in either English or Spanish! The most fascinating parts of the market, though, were the carnicerías (butcher stands). On giant slabs of marble you could get up close and personal with nearly any part of any animal. Whole chickens, some still getting plucked, were piled high like so many rubber prank toys. Giant bins of chicken feet or livers or breasts could be found. Need a hairy goat head? A dozen of them await you in aisle 6 on a shelf of ice. Blue light special. Have a gander at the woman carving into pig hooves with a cleaver or look over your shoulder to the racks of cow halves dangling from hooks. Pig heads, sheep entrails, things I could not even identify! Fresh for the buying! I was spun around with a mix of awe and fascination as well as disgust while trying to keep my breakfast down. Not exactly the shrink-wrapped Tyson packages you find at your local Stop & Shop. I ended up buying some grapes and the cutest avocado ever.
That evening I spent with two Americans each on very extensive travel trips (think on the order of 9 months to more) and a rather overwhelming Australian woman who wore thin on me pretty fast.
Here at UDLA I´ve meet some of the staff (all are very nice) and settled into my room. I will be staying in a 4-room suite but the others haven´t arrived yet. The lodging is nicer than any suite I had in college, and the campus (what I´ve seen so far) is quite pleasant. There is a rose garden (some bushes 300 years old!) and peacocks and ducks roam the grounds rather contentedly. Check out some pictures of UDLA here. I´m having a fair bit of mixed emotions about the program, but most of the unsettled feelings are due to the fact that I find myself once again in the waiting-for-things-to-happen-so-I-know-what-to-expect mode. Orientation starts tomorrow night and I am going to try and do some course work tomorrow. The big coup for today is doing laundry. What a treat!
I have a phone in my suite that can receive calls, so if you are dying to say hello, let me know and I´ll give you the number. You can call Mexico (and a lot of other countries) for 2 cents a minute using PennyTalk. I´ll put up some more pictures soon, but for now I hope everyone is well. Thanks again to those of you that read and post comments. Even when I can´t respond individually, I am thinking about you!
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Callejoneadas
While there is more to write about my time in Guanajuato (such as my visit to the mines and a chance re-encounter with Nick from Morelia), I wish to spend the next few minutes describing a fantastic (though perhaps a wee bit touristy) tradition in Guanajuato. First, you should know that the Spanish word for street is "calle" and that Guanajuato is filled with many winding "callejones," or alleys. It is along these callejones that we enjoy callejoneadas...
It begins sometime around 8 or 9 in the evening in the lively and beautiful Jardín de la Union, where musicians clad in impressive traditional costumes start to play music before a growing crowd the the stepped entry to the church in the square. Playing all manner of stringed instruments and a lively tamborine, the tenor- and bass-voiced troubadors sing such classics as "Cielito Lindo" and "De Colores" (and other songs that are actually well-known to Mexicans but not to this gringa). They crack jokes in Spanish and will sell you a ceramic vase as a souvenier. Then the whole band starts to walk through the callejones, singing and walking and being followed by the mob in a sort of delightful procession. Along the way, they will fill your vase with juice to be enjoyed during the evening (I think it used to be wine or tequila that was distrubuted back in the day, but some enterprising fellows brought some spirits to add to their vases!). And so it goes, walking and singing and winding through the streets. I tagged along yesterday and today, but bailed early due to rain and the lack of purchase of the ceramic vase. I´m not sure if I can get such a tradition to start in Wellesley, but you are all invited... let´s go playing music and singing down Cottage Street in the middle of the night! You can see why some things are just better in Mexico.
It begins sometime around 8 or 9 in the evening in the lively and beautiful Jardín de la Union, where musicians clad in impressive traditional costumes start to play music before a growing crowd the the stepped entry to the church in the square. Playing all manner of stringed instruments and a lively tamborine, the tenor- and bass-voiced troubadors sing such classics as "Cielito Lindo" and "De Colores" (and other songs that are actually well-known to Mexicans but not to this gringa). They crack jokes in Spanish and will sell you a ceramic vase as a souvenier. Then the whole band starts to walk through the callejones, singing and walking and being followed by the mob in a sort of delightful procession. Along the way, they will fill your vase with juice to be enjoyed during the evening (I think it used to be wine or tequila that was distrubuted back in the day, but some enterprising fellows brought some spirits to add to their vases!). And so it goes, walking and singing and winding through the streets. I tagged along yesterday and today, but bailed early due to rain and the lack of purchase of the ceramic vase. I´m not sure if I can get such a tradition to start in Wellesley, but you are all invited... let´s go playing music and singing down Cottage Street in the middle of the night! You can see why some things are just better in Mexico.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
¡¿Gonna-what-o?!
To give my inital thoughts about my current location, what follows is more or less chunks quoted from my journal, written yesterday...
"Holy Wahoo! Guanajuato! Where to begin? It can´t be done... like the gorgeous mess of streets and the lovely mess of people here, description defies beginning and end, evades orderly process and layout. The city is a wild and charming maze of hilly, windy streets and alleys that curve in all three dimensions! There are colorful edifices on the hillslopes and charming buildings, gardens, and plazas hidden in the street valleys. A crazy and amazing system of arched stone tunnels runs underground, as if out of some fantastic film (making the Big Dig in Boston look SO LAME). The variety of people here is overwhelming--many young, hip university types and retired-looking gringo types. I´ve heard as much English as Spanish here. The city is a bustling, topsy-turvy place that confounds me. Get this--some of the callejónes (alleys) are so twisty and hilly that I´ve seen several people on mountain bikes (in full hard-core gear) pumping and bumping along the cobblestone trails. Crazy!"
"Some folks have commented via the blog and email that I seem to make friends effortlessly here. I´ll have to disabuse them of some things. The truth is that hostels tend to be networking havens and Mexicans are really very friendly people once you start talking to them."
---------------
On a whim, I decided to attend a concert last night by Orquestra Sínfonica de la Universidad de Guadalajara. 40 pesos with my ID--not bad at all. What I realized is that the symphony is like baseball... boring to listen to or watch on radio or TV, but SO INCREDIBLY AMAZING to spectate live. I had an absolute ball listening to the music and watching the musicians. Really incredible.
Today I began the day by moving to a different hostel (I didn´t much like the one I was in... the entry way is part of a children´s furniture shop with ill-looking beta fishes and the dorm room felt strangely like something out of Annie). I then checked out El Museo de las Momias, where they have on display a variety of corpses that have been naturally dessicated and preserved by the properties of the cemetery (something about minerals and hydroscopic conditions). When families cannot pay the fees to keep the corpses buries, they are disenterred by the municipality and either cremated or put into this bizarre musuem. I won´t have pictures (not permitted) but you can try
http://www.mummytombs.com/mummylocator/group/guanajuato.closeup.htm
or another search on the web for the mummies of Guanajuato.
I also visited a museum devoted to Don Quixote, boasted room after room of the Cervantes hero (along with Sancho Panza at times), who is immortalized in a surprising collection of paintings, sculpture, murals, sketches, and artifacts like playing cards, postage stamps, and chess sets. Oh, Señora Vaimburg, if only I´d remembered more from our readings of Don Quixote back in Spanish IV at NHRHS. A side note about this particular Spanish teacher that I had in high school--she was a bit of an eccentric little lady but a pretty darn good teacher with high expectations for us. One thing I distinctly remember, however, was her telling us that we might one day master the grammar and vocabulary of this wonderful language, but that we estudiantes would never (¡nunca!) be able to speak without an accent (i.e. like a native speaker). Well, Señora, I will have you know that I definitely haven´t mastered the grammar or vocab (though I´m not too shabby of a speaker), but my accent is awesome. I am occasionally mistaken for Spanish and am often told that I speak Spanish "muy bien." So Señora Vaimburg, I owe you both a sincere "thank you!" and grinning "ha!"
After the Don Quixote smorgasbord, I climbed another ledge to the cliff-top monument La Pípila, which was as interesting for the views it offered of Guanajuato below than its historical significance (for me, anyway). I followed this with lunch at a vegetarian Indian restaurant, which had good Indian music but the food made me miss home cooking by my Indian family. It also made me excited to go to India next year with my parents (right, mom and dad?!).
I plan to be in Guanajuato tomorrow as well and then make the 3-legged long journey from here to Mexico City to Puebla to Cholula where I will (yikes!) start teaching biotechnology to eager children. ¡Díos mío!
"Holy Wahoo! Guanajuato! Where to begin? It can´t be done... like the gorgeous mess of streets and the lovely mess of people here, description defies beginning and end, evades orderly process and layout. The city is a wild and charming maze of hilly, windy streets and alleys that curve in all three dimensions! There are colorful edifices on the hillslopes and charming buildings, gardens, and plazas hidden in the street valleys. A crazy and amazing system of arched stone tunnels runs underground, as if out of some fantastic film (making the Big Dig in Boston look SO LAME). The variety of people here is overwhelming--many young, hip university types and retired-looking gringo types. I´ve heard as much English as Spanish here. The city is a bustling, topsy-turvy place that confounds me. Get this--some of the callejónes (alleys) are so twisty and hilly that I´ve seen several people on mountain bikes (in full hard-core gear) pumping and bumping along the cobblestone trails. Crazy!"
"Some folks have commented via the blog and email that I seem to make friends effortlessly here. I´ll have to disabuse them of some things. The truth is that hostels tend to be networking havens and Mexicans are really very friendly people once you start talking to them."
---------------
On a whim, I decided to attend a concert last night by Orquestra Sínfonica de la Universidad de Guadalajara. 40 pesos with my ID--not bad at all. What I realized is that the symphony is like baseball... boring to listen to or watch on radio or TV, but SO INCREDIBLY AMAZING to spectate live. I had an absolute ball listening to the music and watching the musicians. Really incredible.
Today I began the day by moving to a different hostel (I didn´t much like the one I was in... the entry way is part of a children´s furniture shop with ill-looking beta fishes and the dorm room felt strangely like something out of Annie). I then checked out El Museo de las Momias, where they have on display a variety of corpses that have been naturally dessicated and preserved by the properties of the cemetery (something about minerals and hydroscopic conditions). When families cannot pay the fees to keep the corpses buries, they are disenterred by the municipality and either cremated or put into this bizarre musuem. I won´t have pictures (not permitted) but you can try
http://www.mummytombs.com/mummylocator/group/guanajuato.closeup.htm
or another search on the web for the mummies of Guanajuato.
I also visited a museum devoted to Don Quixote, boasted room after room of the Cervantes hero (along with Sancho Panza at times), who is immortalized in a surprising collection of paintings, sculpture, murals, sketches, and artifacts like playing cards, postage stamps, and chess sets. Oh, Señora Vaimburg, if only I´d remembered more from our readings of Don Quixote back in Spanish IV at NHRHS. A side note about this particular Spanish teacher that I had in high school--she was a bit of an eccentric little lady but a pretty darn good teacher with high expectations for us. One thing I distinctly remember, however, was her telling us that we might one day master the grammar and vocabulary of this wonderful language, but that we estudiantes would never (¡nunca!) be able to speak without an accent (i.e. like a native speaker). Well, Señora, I will have you know that I definitely haven´t mastered the grammar or vocab (though I´m not too shabby of a speaker), but my accent is awesome. I am occasionally mistaken for Spanish and am often told that I speak Spanish "muy bien." So Señora Vaimburg, I owe you both a sincere "thank you!" and grinning "ha!"
After the Don Quixote smorgasbord, I climbed another ledge to the cliff-top monument La Pípila, which was as interesting for the views it offered of Guanajuato below than its historical significance (for me, anyway). I followed this with lunch at a vegetarian Indian restaurant, which had good Indian music but the food made me miss home cooking by my Indian family. It also made me excited to go to India next year with my parents (right, mom and dad?!).
I plan to be in Guanajuato tomorrow as well and then make the 3-legged long journey from here to Mexico City to Puebla to Cholula where I will (yikes!) start teaching biotechnology to eager children. ¡Díos mío!
Friday, June 29, 2007
Tequila and Tlaquepaque...
So the national drink of Mexico, I am told, is tequila. And the town of this same name is two hours from Guadalajara (and listed as a top 25 Mexico/Central America highlights in the book KR game me) so I figured I'd be a little touristy at check it out. The town of Tequila itself is small and very pleasant; I wish I had spent more time walking through its few center streets. However, I was on a mission, so I walked past the many shopes selling all manner of tequila straight to La Rojena, Jose Cuervo's distillery in Tequila. There a fellow named Eduardo led a few of us on a pricey and touristy but still rather enjoyable tour of the process and facilities. I'll summarize the steps for making tequila here (don't try this at home, because what I'm about to relate is based on what I understood of Eduardo's fast/talking Spanish.... plus to be called "tequila" you'd have to make the stuff in the Mexican state of Jalisco).
--The blue agave plant (looks like a cactusy aloe pineapple) is grown from 8-10 years until the heart of the plant reaches the size of a beach ball. It is then harvested using a flat spade called a coa and the heart is brought to the distillery.
--The many agave fruits are chopped using axes and then put into ovens to help the starches turn into sugars (we ate some agave after the ovens).
--The cooked agave is then mashed and milled, separating the juice (agual miel) from the fiber. The fiber is used for non-tequila applications.
--The liquid is then fermented with yeast and subsequently let to age in other vats. We sampled some of the tequila product at each stage. To be a good sport I had a sip but nearly puked after just a drop. Others managed to down a swig of the brew.
--Tequila is then stored in barrels like wine, and the type of tequila you get (there are 4 kinds) depends on how long it has aged and what % of the sugars some from agave (vs. cane sugar additives).
--I didn't spring for the tasting part of the tour, but a nice lady from Colorado did and she let me sit in and watch as I drank the weakest margarita ever made (part of the tour). It turns out that there is a whole process to sniffing and tasting tequila, similar to wine. First you swirl it in the special tequila glass, noting color, body, and the "legs." Second you sniff in three places of the glass opening: the bottom for the alcohol, the middle for the sugars, and the top for the other flavors. Or something like that. Then you take a quick sip without tasting to get your mouth accustomed to the alcohol. Next you take a sip and hold it in your mouth for 5-7 seconds to let the other flavors come out. You can also hold a sip in your mouth and then breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose to bring out the other flavors. So next time someone offers you tequila, you can go through these steps as a connessier. What is the best kind of tequila? Eduardo says sincerely, "It is whichever kind you like the most. Tequila has the power of eliciting memories." For him, the smell of tequila reminds him of the smell of money (since it is his job!).
Before heading back to the bus, I stopped to eat a chile relleno, and saw a woman making fresh tortillas. The process was eerily similar to making rotli (and Indian flat bread) except instead of rolling the dough they use a very effective press machine--maybe I'll bring one back for my mom, grandmother, and aunt!
Upon returning from Tequila, I met up with Andrea (a photography student from Australia) to head to the suburb of Tlaquepaque. A truly pleasant neighborhood, known for its fine artesanias and shopping, this little town was celebrating its patron saint in the annual Feria de San Pedro. As such, the place was like a carnival/fair and super fun to be around. I drank a giant coconut (dad!) and chatted it up with Oscar, the coconut guy. We saw a different kind of churro being made (like traditional fried dough--yum) and entertained ourselves walking though the pedestrian maze of stalls, vendors, games, etc. Andrea had an enormous camera and was taking photographs (f/stop and all that... Mo-mo) while I was taking snapshots! There was a procession of San Pedro himself, along with bottle rockets, that ended in the church along with what appeared to be an en masse confirmation ceremony. We then went to sit for a while and listen to mariachis serenading more spend-happy customers and then played a bingo-like game called loteria. It was SUCH a fun game--instead of letters and numbers, you have to cover the tarot-card like pictures on your loteria card with corn seeds until it is full. It is excellent practice for ones Spanish and a hoot with the other ladies who play, shouting "Buena!" when they win. The night ended with a nice chat with a friendly fellow of the bus ride home.
Today I'm headed for Guanajuato, and as check-out is in 5 minutes, I'd better log off!
--The blue agave plant (looks like a cactusy aloe pineapple) is grown from 8-10 years until the heart of the plant reaches the size of a beach ball. It is then harvested using a flat spade called a coa and the heart is brought to the distillery.
--The many agave fruits are chopped using axes and then put into ovens to help the starches turn into sugars (we ate some agave after the ovens).
--The cooked agave is then mashed and milled, separating the juice (agual miel) from the fiber. The fiber is used for non-tequila applications.
--The liquid is then fermented with yeast and subsequently let to age in other vats. We sampled some of the tequila product at each stage. To be a good sport I had a sip but nearly puked after just a drop. Others managed to down a swig of the brew.
--Tequila is then stored in barrels like wine, and the type of tequila you get (there are 4 kinds) depends on how long it has aged and what % of the sugars some from agave (vs. cane sugar additives).
--I didn't spring for the tasting part of the tour, but a nice lady from Colorado did and she let me sit in and watch as I drank the weakest margarita ever made (part of the tour). It turns out that there is a whole process to sniffing and tasting tequila, similar to wine. First you swirl it in the special tequila glass, noting color, body, and the "legs." Second you sniff in three places of the glass opening: the bottom for the alcohol, the middle for the sugars, and the top for the other flavors. Or something like that. Then you take a quick sip without tasting to get your mouth accustomed to the alcohol. Next you take a sip and hold it in your mouth for 5-7 seconds to let the other flavors come out. You can also hold a sip in your mouth and then breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose to bring out the other flavors. So next time someone offers you tequila, you can go through these steps as a connessier. What is the best kind of tequila? Eduardo says sincerely, "It is whichever kind you like the most. Tequila has the power of eliciting memories." For him, the smell of tequila reminds him of the smell of money (since it is his job!).
Before heading back to the bus, I stopped to eat a chile relleno, and saw a woman making fresh tortillas. The process was eerily similar to making rotli (and Indian flat bread) except instead of rolling the dough they use a very effective press machine--maybe I'll bring one back for my mom, grandmother, and aunt!
Upon returning from Tequila, I met up with Andrea (a photography student from Australia) to head to the suburb of Tlaquepaque. A truly pleasant neighborhood, known for its fine artesanias and shopping, this little town was celebrating its patron saint in the annual Feria de San Pedro. As such, the place was like a carnival/fair and super fun to be around. I drank a giant coconut (dad!) and chatted it up with Oscar, the coconut guy. We saw a different kind of churro being made (like traditional fried dough--yum) and entertained ourselves walking though the pedestrian maze of stalls, vendors, games, etc. Andrea had an enormous camera and was taking photographs (f/stop and all that... Mo-mo) while I was taking snapshots! There was a procession of San Pedro himself, along with bottle rockets, that ended in the church along with what appeared to be an en masse confirmation ceremony. We then went to sit for a while and listen to mariachis serenading more spend-happy customers and then played a bingo-like game called loteria. It was SUCH a fun game--instead of letters and numbers, you have to cover the tarot-card like pictures on your loteria card with corn seeds until it is full. It is excellent practice for ones Spanish and a hoot with the other ladies who play, shouting "Buena!" when they win. The night ended with a nice chat with a friendly fellow of the bus ride home.
Today I'm headed for Guanajuato, and as check-out is in 5 minutes, I'd better log off!
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Wednesday, June 27, 2007
El Estribo and Guadalajara
So in the end I did take a hike up El Estribo, which turns out to be a big hill that takes about an hour to hike up along a pretty cobblestone path. María came along and we left around 6:30 in hopes of catching the sunrise from the summit (which we only sort of did). The hike up was pleasant enough and I was impressed by the intrepid joggers that trotted on up while we happily went with the speed of "slow and steady." There were some impressive views of Pátzcuaro, the lake, the islands, and the surrounding mountains from the peak. Also at the vista point is a 418-step staircase leading to a further summit. In the time it took María and I to climb (and count) the steps and then descend with trepidation (ye olde acrophobia kicked in), yet another one of the intrepid Mexicans had (along with her dog), jogged up and down the rugged staircase twice. Upon return to Jaime´s house, I headed into town for a bite to eat and then had a brief rest before heading to the bus station (without getting lost). The bus trip was overall non-descript, as I tried to nap through most of it.
Upon arrival in Guadalajara (the second largest city in Mexico, home of the sombrero, mariachi, and tequila), I managed to hop on a bus and successfully navigate the relatively long bus ride into the main part of town, getting off on the same block as my hostel (where I had called ahead for reservations!). The hostel is rather pleasant, though I miss the homey feel of Jaime´s house and my quickly-made friends from Morelia. Though decidedly a big city, the centro historico of Guadalajara is not too overwhelming--parks, plazas, pedestrian walkways, and fountains make for a navigable area. I explored this part of town, exhausting myself today with several museums, churches, parks, and more. I have yet to see a full mariachi band in action, though that may happen tomorrow when I head to the "suburb" (more of an outlying neighborhood) of Tlaquepaque. I also may head to the town of Tequila to see how the brew is made, though I can´t say I´m particularly interested in the samples they supposedly give you along the way.
In truth, I am doing rather well, but am feeling a bit out of sorts mentally. As such, this post is not so fascinating or detailed, and I apologize to those of you that managed to read this far. I´ll bring you a tequila.
Upon arrival in Guadalajara (the second largest city in Mexico, home of the sombrero, mariachi, and tequila), I managed to hop on a bus and successfully navigate the relatively long bus ride into the main part of town, getting off on the same block as my hostel (where I had called ahead for reservations!). The hostel is rather pleasant, though I miss the homey feel of Jaime´s house and my quickly-made friends from Morelia. Though decidedly a big city, the centro historico of Guadalajara is not too overwhelming--parks, plazas, pedestrian walkways, and fountains make for a navigable area. I explored this part of town, exhausting myself today with several museums, churches, parks, and more. I have yet to see a full mariachi band in action, though that may happen tomorrow when I head to the "suburb" (more of an outlying neighborhood) of Tlaquepaque. I also may head to the town of Tequila to see how the brew is made, though I can´t say I´m particularly interested in the samples they supposedly give you along the way.
In truth, I am doing rather well, but am feeling a bit out of sorts mentally. As such, this post is not so fascinating or detailed, and I apologize to those of you that managed to read this far. I´ll bring you a tequila.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Pátzcuaro and environs
I don´t want to jinx anything, but I *think* I will be able to upload a few pics... It is taking a very long time, so we will see if my patience (and my pesos) will permit. Meanwhile, since you are here reading anyway, I´ll type a bit about my day.
First of all, I should say that Jaime has been a most gracious host. With some warnings about the mosquitos (which have ready access to the "cabaña" via the giant gaps in the structure), he welcomed me into his home and I slept in a spare room for the same price. And I should mention I finally slept through a full night here, to be awoken (rather nicely, actually) but some rooster crowing. I enjoyed an evening chat and a morning breakfast with Jaime and María (a lady who helps him with the house) and really enjoyed the comfortable, homey feel and the chance to talk with them about all manner of things.
This morning after a breakfast of avocado and bread (which I had originally bought for dinner yesterday, but was too stuffed from my huge, delicious lunch to eat last night), I headed out. I took a combi to the muelle (dock) and boarded a lancha (boat) to get to Isla Janitzio in the lake. The lancha embodies the wonderful concept of time that exists in Mexico: you buy your ticket and board the lancha, you wait around until it is full, and then you go. No "scheduled departures", just go when we are ready to go. Tranquilo until then, amigos.
Janitzio itself is a rather small island in Lago Pátzcuaro and has the three-dimensional shape of a gumdrop. It is basically a big hill topped by a towering monument to independence hero José María Morelos. There are no cars on the island and a series of stepped alleyways wind their way through many oddly-angled souvenier shops and restaurants. The island is a rather touristy spot and a mecca during Mexico´s "Día de los Muertos" celebrations. The meandering climb was eye-popping and kitchy and fascinating.
At the summit, I opted to climb the 40+ meter hollow statue of Morelos. I pretty much ignored the 56 interior murals depicting his life as I tried not to lose my marbles fighting my irrational and yet very real fear of heights. I made it up into Morelos´ upwardly thrust wrist (think Lady Liberty), took a deep breath and a few snapshots and made my slow-footed retreat. I enjoyed a bowl of sopa tarasca (think about the best tomato soup you ever had and then add delicious mexican cheese and crispy tortilla bits... this is a mere sketch of this culinary delight) during my return to the muelle. I chose *not* to sample the cupfuls of small fried fish topped with chili sauce.
Back on the mainland, I did a few laps in the wrong directions but managed to eventually find a bus to Tzintzuntzan, a small lakeside village about 15 km to the north. There I saw some fine straw handcrafts. I also visited a former monastary where there are the oldest olive trees in the americas. The town is so small and sleepy that the feel of everything I did in Tzintzuntzan was one of peace. I then (after receiving another series of bad directions) trekked just out of town to visit the ruins of the former capital of the Tarascan empire. The most impressive feature of the site was the circular-bottom pyramidal structures called yácatans. The hilltop archeological site was so serene that I felt almost to be floating.
Since then I have returned to Pátzcuaro, bought a ticket to Guadalaja for tomorrow, ducked out from under a rainstorm, gotten lost (again), and ended up here typing. I *may* try and climb El Estribo tomorrow, but it will have to be very early in the AM as my bus leaves at noon, and I am hearing the voice of that guy I met in the combi saying I probably shouldn´t go there alone. We´ll see.
So I think the photos have successfully uploaded, so please go through and browse some earlier entries and see the pics. View them in the blog, or click on the Shartcast logo to be taken to a larger slideshow at the Sharpcast site (when you get there, click on "slideshow" on the right).
As always, keep the emails and comments coming. I love them!
First of all, I should say that Jaime has been a most gracious host. With some warnings about the mosquitos (which have ready access to the "cabaña" via the giant gaps in the structure), he welcomed me into his home and I slept in a spare room for the same price. And I should mention I finally slept through a full night here, to be awoken (rather nicely, actually) but some rooster crowing. I enjoyed an evening chat and a morning breakfast with Jaime and María (a lady who helps him with the house) and really enjoyed the comfortable, homey feel and the chance to talk with them about all manner of things.
This morning after a breakfast of avocado and bread (which I had originally bought for dinner yesterday, but was too stuffed from my huge, delicious lunch to eat last night), I headed out. I took a combi to the muelle (dock) and boarded a lancha (boat) to get to Isla Janitzio in the lake. The lancha embodies the wonderful concept of time that exists in Mexico: you buy your ticket and board the lancha, you wait around until it is full, and then you go. No "scheduled departures", just go when we are ready to go. Tranquilo until then, amigos.
Janitzio itself is a rather small island in Lago Pátzcuaro and has the three-dimensional shape of a gumdrop. It is basically a big hill topped by a towering monument to independence hero José María Morelos. There are no cars on the island and a series of stepped alleyways wind their way through many oddly-angled souvenier shops and restaurants. The island is a rather touristy spot and a mecca during Mexico´s "Día de los Muertos" celebrations. The meandering climb was eye-popping and kitchy and fascinating.
At the summit, I opted to climb the 40+ meter hollow statue of Morelos. I pretty much ignored the 56 interior murals depicting his life as I tried not to lose my marbles fighting my irrational and yet very real fear of heights. I made it up into Morelos´ upwardly thrust wrist (think Lady Liberty), took a deep breath and a few snapshots and made my slow-footed retreat. I enjoyed a bowl of sopa tarasca (think about the best tomato soup you ever had and then add delicious mexican cheese and crispy tortilla bits... this is a mere sketch of this culinary delight) during my return to the muelle. I chose *not* to sample the cupfuls of small fried fish topped with chili sauce.
Back on the mainland, I did a few laps in the wrong directions but managed to eventually find a bus to Tzintzuntzan, a small lakeside village about 15 km to the north. There I saw some fine straw handcrafts. I also visited a former monastary where there are the oldest olive trees in the americas. The town is so small and sleepy that the feel of everything I did in Tzintzuntzan was one of peace. I then (after receiving another series of bad directions) trekked just out of town to visit the ruins of the former capital of the Tarascan empire. The most impressive feature of the site was the circular-bottom pyramidal structures called yácatans. The hilltop archeological site was so serene that I felt almost to be floating.
Since then I have returned to Pátzcuaro, bought a ticket to Guadalaja for tomorrow, ducked out from under a rainstorm, gotten lost (again), and ended up here typing. I *may* try and climb El Estribo tomorrow, but it will have to be very early in the AM as my bus leaves at noon, and I am hearing the voice of that guy I met in the combi saying I probably shouldn´t go there alone. We´ll see.
So I think the photos have successfully uploaded, so please go through and browse some earlier entries and see the pics. View them in the blog, or click on the Shartcast logo to be taken to a larger slideshow at the Sharpcast site (when you get there, click on "slideshow" on the right).
As always, keep the emails and comments coming. I love them!
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Sunday, June 24, 2007
"The crown jewel of highland Michoacán..."
...is how Lonely Planet describes my current location, Pátzcuaro. Located south of the lake of the same name, it has thus far lived up to its moniker, though I have been here but a few hours.
Last night in Morelia I enjoyed a lovely evening with Marion, the aforementioned "francesa loca" who is a treat to spend time with and speaks Spanish with the most beguiling French accent. Every Saturday night, it seems, the cathedral in the town square is magnificently lit and crowds fill the streets and plaza (along with vendors selling balloons and glo-toys and cotton candy) to see a series of fireworks set off from in front of the cathedral. The air had a thoroughly enjoyable flavor of chill fiesta, and it was most enjoyable. The rest of the evening was passed with card games, smoothies, food, and a return visit to a bar of an earlier night (Alquimia) where a really great rock band played cover songs ranging from Red Hot Chili Peppers to Juanes and Jarabe de Paulo (shout out to ER and SL!).
This morning after a leisurely start to the day (it was oddly raining in the AM; downpours tend to be reserved for the afternoon.... every afternoon), I took leave of the wonderful hostel and town and friends in Morelia to come to Pátzcuaro. This viaje can be repeated by following these simple steps:
1) from the hostel, walk several blocks away from el centro to an enormous and confusing intersection, populated by friendly people who are eager to tell you where the combi comes, but none of whom will point you in the actual direction
2) since you will be asking several folks the same question, try and mix things up. For some, you might try, "Discúlpeme señor, ¿sabe Usted de donde sale la morada dos a La Salida de Pátzcuaro?" If you tire of this, consider the approach, "Perdóname, señora, ¿podría ud. decirme donde puedo subir la combi morada numero dos?" As you will have to go through this routine several times as you navigate the area, don´t hesitate to mix things up! (Hint: the actual stop is behind the left butt cheek of the towering statue in the center of the square, where the friendly guy is waiting and who will also take the same combi is ready to chat it up with you about all the various ways to get to Pátzcuaro)
3) board the combi (think: a small van with benches around the edges instead of seats) and make an awkward show of getting in with your giant backpack. Erase awkwardness by paying the fare promptly and offering a polite "buenos días."
4) once abord and seated, you are now ready to begin wondering if you will know where to get off, as you have never been to this "salida de pátzcuaro." Take a minute to look around the combi and decide who to ask.
5) if your neighbors seems friendly enough, ask them to let you know when we get to the salida de pátzcuaro. They will then proceed to tell you that they also are going to the salida (and can thus show you where to get off) as they have relatives in pátzcuaro whom they are visiting. They will have grown up in Pátzcuaro, and will answer your questions about the islands in the lake and the nearby hill (El Estribo) that you might climb, though upon further discussion the gentleman will tell you not to go alone and to try and climb it during the morning.
6) the three of you will get off at La Salida where you *could* wait for a bus but since there are taxis that are there that will take you there for the same price when they are full, the three of you can get in a taxi with another gentleman and cruise out of town.
7) as you drive out of Morelia, sit back and take in the scenery. On the outskirts of town, keep an eye out for such sights as the giant Cinépolis, Wal*Mart, and Home Depot that have sprung up as so many box stores tend to do. You will get a bit nostalgic for Framingham and a little sick at the thought of these stores near a town as sweet as Morelia, but before you taste the bile in the back of your throat, the city will melt away into a lush countryside filled with trees and plots of tilled land and framed by hazy mountains.
8) you will get dropped off at a seemingly random place in Pátzcuaro, where your friendly couple will take their leave, but the taxi drivers who sit around there waiting for fares will gladly tell you which combi to take to get to the center of town (answer: any of them).
9) repeat step 3
10) discreetly pull out your guidebook (which by now you have covered in a white placemat from the vegetarian restaurant in Mexico City using duct tape so as to avoid looking too much like a bungling packpacker waving around a brightly-colored Lonely Planet guidebook) and open up to the map of Pátzcuaro. In this way, you will be able to trace the combi´s progress and know when to get off. Be sure to mess up in a moment of being flustered and ask to get off a block past where you actually want to go.
11) rather than going to one of the hotels near the pleasant Plaza Quiroga, attempt instead to find the "Casa del Sol Hostel." Not in any guidebook, you heard about this place from a guy named Pavel in Morelia, who is from Toluca but has been travelling a bit for a few days. Pavel has informed you that you can find a place to sleep here for 50 pesos in what is actually some guy´s house with a few extra rooms. With the crude map he has drawn you burned into your brain, you set off to find this place. In the long tradition of drawing maps without all the cross streets on them, your thoughts will go from "hey, this place is just 2.5 blocks away!" to "wow, I sure am getting a workout climbing this big hill for many, many blocks" to (and this should tell you something) "maybe I should have sprung for a taxi..."
12) after much walking (read: hiking) up the hill, you will think you are getting close (since the "second" cross street on the map has been found), though the few elderly gentleman will have no idea what you are talking about when you ask about this place. Don´t worry, because eventually you will find the place, and spend a few minutes wondering how to ring the bell (there is no sign, and no buzzer button). Further inquiries to some nearby ladies reveals the secret: look for the green string dangling from the left side of the garage door... it is tied to another rope that ends in a little bell upstairs in the house. Tug the cord a few times, and be prepared for the door to open just as you are wondering if you have come this far for nothing.
13) a kindly gentleman will open the door and introduce himself as Jaime. He will usher you in and make you feel right at home, smiling when you say that Pavel sent you. Since this is literally the guy´s house, you get to hear him say those lovely words, "mi casa es su casa."
14) he will show you the two rooms right in the house for 100 pesos each and will tell you about the cabaña for 50 pesos a night. The cabaña turns out to be a shack out in the back yard, "decorated" with some children´s pencil artwork and several calendars of scantily clad women and furnished with a wooden slat bed. You say you´ll take it, and wait patiently in the house as Jaime makes the bed.
15) you are then free to trek back into the town, have a look around, enjoy a four-course meal more expensive than your hard-earned lodgings, and invite a lost-looking gringo to join you. Since the gringo David turns out to be nice, you have a leisurely chat and walk-around in the plazas and mercado before he has to get back to meet his bus for his exchange program, as they are on a weekend excursion from Guanajuato. You enjoy the football game on TV (Gold Cup 2007), trying not to cheer too loudly when the US beats Mexico, 2-to-1.
Now you, too, can make the viaje from Morelia to Pátzcuaro in 15 easy steps. Enjoy!
Last night in Morelia I enjoyed a lovely evening with Marion, the aforementioned "francesa loca" who is a treat to spend time with and speaks Spanish with the most beguiling French accent. Every Saturday night, it seems, the cathedral in the town square is magnificently lit and crowds fill the streets and plaza (along with vendors selling balloons and glo-toys and cotton candy) to see a series of fireworks set off from in front of the cathedral. The air had a thoroughly enjoyable flavor of chill fiesta, and it was most enjoyable. The rest of the evening was passed with card games, smoothies, food, and a return visit to a bar of an earlier night (Alquimia) where a really great rock band played cover songs ranging from Red Hot Chili Peppers to Juanes and Jarabe de Paulo (shout out to ER and SL!).
This morning after a leisurely start to the day (it was oddly raining in the AM; downpours tend to be reserved for the afternoon.... every afternoon), I took leave of the wonderful hostel and town and friends in Morelia to come to Pátzcuaro. This viaje can be repeated by following these simple steps:
1) from the hostel, walk several blocks away from el centro to an enormous and confusing intersection, populated by friendly people who are eager to tell you where the combi comes, but none of whom will point you in the actual direction
2) since you will be asking several folks the same question, try and mix things up. For some, you might try, "Discúlpeme señor, ¿sabe Usted de donde sale la morada dos a La Salida de Pátzcuaro?" If you tire of this, consider the approach, "Perdóname, señora, ¿podría ud. decirme donde puedo subir la combi morada numero dos?" As you will have to go through this routine several times as you navigate the area, don´t hesitate to mix things up! (Hint: the actual stop is behind the left butt cheek of the towering statue in the center of the square, where the friendly guy is waiting and who will also take the same combi is ready to chat it up with you about all the various ways to get to Pátzcuaro)
3) board the combi (think: a small van with benches around the edges instead of seats) and make an awkward show of getting in with your giant backpack. Erase awkwardness by paying the fare promptly and offering a polite "buenos días."
4) once abord and seated, you are now ready to begin wondering if you will know where to get off, as you have never been to this "salida de pátzcuaro." Take a minute to look around the combi and decide who to ask.
5) if your neighbors seems friendly enough, ask them to let you know when we get to the salida de pátzcuaro. They will then proceed to tell you that they also are going to the salida (and can thus show you where to get off) as they have relatives in pátzcuaro whom they are visiting. They will have grown up in Pátzcuaro, and will answer your questions about the islands in the lake and the nearby hill (El Estribo) that you might climb, though upon further discussion the gentleman will tell you not to go alone and to try and climb it during the morning.
6) the three of you will get off at La Salida where you *could* wait for a bus but since there are taxis that are there that will take you there for the same price when they are full, the three of you can get in a taxi with another gentleman and cruise out of town.
7) as you drive out of Morelia, sit back and take in the scenery. On the outskirts of town, keep an eye out for such sights as the giant Cinépolis, Wal*Mart, and Home Depot that have sprung up as so many box stores tend to do. You will get a bit nostalgic for Framingham and a little sick at the thought of these stores near a town as sweet as Morelia, but before you taste the bile in the back of your throat, the city will melt away into a lush countryside filled with trees and plots of tilled land and framed by hazy mountains.
8) you will get dropped off at a seemingly random place in Pátzcuaro, where your friendly couple will take their leave, but the taxi drivers who sit around there waiting for fares will gladly tell you which combi to take to get to the center of town (answer: any of them).
9) repeat step 3
10) discreetly pull out your guidebook (which by now you have covered in a white placemat from the vegetarian restaurant in Mexico City using duct tape so as to avoid looking too much like a bungling packpacker waving around a brightly-colored Lonely Planet guidebook) and open up to the map of Pátzcuaro. In this way, you will be able to trace the combi´s progress and know when to get off. Be sure to mess up in a moment of being flustered and ask to get off a block past where you actually want to go.
11) rather than going to one of the hotels near the pleasant Plaza Quiroga, attempt instead to find the "Casa del Sol Hostel." Not in any guidebook, you heard about this place from a guy named Pavel in Morelia, who is from Toluca but has been travelling a bit for a few days. Pavel has informed you that you can find a place to sleep here for 50 pesos in what is actually some guy´s house with a few extra rooms. With the crude map he has drawn you burned into your brain, you set off to find this place. In the long tradition of drawing maps without all the cross streets on them, your thoughts will go from "hey, this place is just 2.5 blocks away!" to "wow, I sure am getting a workout climbing this big hill for many, many blocks" to (and this should tell you something) "maybe I should have sprung for a taxi..."
12) after much walking (read: hiking) up the hill, you will think you are getting close (since the "second" cross street on the map has been found), though the few elderly gentleman will have no idea what you are talking about when you ask about this place. Don´t worry, because eventually you will find the place, and spend a few minutes wondering how to ring the bell (there is no sign, and no buzzer button). Further inquiries to some nearby ladies reveals the secret: look for the green string dangling from the left side of the garage door... it is tied to another rope that ends in a little bell upstairs in the house. Tug the cord a few times, and be prepared for the door to open just as you are wondering if you have come this far for nothing.
13) a kindly gentleman will open the door and introduce himself as Jaime. He will usher you in and make you feel right at home, smiling when you say that Pavel sent you. Since this is literally the guy´s house, you get to hear him say those lovely words, "mi casa es su casa."
14) he will show you the two rooms right in the house for 100 pesos each and will tell you about the cabaña for 50 pesos a night. The cabaña turns out to be a shack out in the back yard, "decorated" with some children´s pencil artwork and several calendars of scantily clad women and furnished with a wooden slat bed. You say you´ll take it, and wait patiently in the house as Jaime makes the bed.
15) you are then free to trek back into the town, have a look around, enjoy a four-course meal more expensive than your hard-earned lodgings, and invite a lost-looking gringo to join you. Since the gringo David turns out to be nice, you have a leisurely chat and walk-around in the plazas and mercado before he has to get back to meet his bus for his exchange program, as they are on a weekend excursion from Guanajuato. You enjoy the football game on TV (Gold Cup 2007), trying not to cheer too loudly when the US beats Mexico, 2-to-1.
Now you, too, can make the viaje from Morelia to Pátzcuaro in 15 easy steps. Enjoy!
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Pues...
I strangely don´t have much to say at this juncture. I think I´m feeling a bit restless as I don´t know where I´ll be going in the next week and a half and (I never thought I´d say this) I´m actually anxious to hurry up and start teaching the summer course. I think more than anything, I´m looking forward to a bit of routine (the antithesis of this kind of travel).
Morelia is, as mentioned, a beautiful town and I have enjoyed wandering through it. The heart of the city is the cathedral (which took over a century to build) and last night I attended an organ concert there. Quite an experience. Afterwards, I ended up making crepes with Marion the French girl and several Mexicans. We then proceeded to go out and I figured--what the heck, let me see the night life here. The first place was a sort of typical club like in the states... loud electronic-pop music, eye-piercing flashing lights, smoke, etc. We stayed for a bit as good sports for a guy named Carlos Alejandro (who insisted on being called Alexander) who initiated our trip to said club. But after a while Marion, me, and another Mexican fellow (whose name I can´t remember because he refused to spell it for me!) went to a more "mexican" place, where a live band played all kinds of fun music, like banda and ranchera and the locals danced well and the three of us danced a lot (not well). To give you a sense of the music, just imagine that in addition to a singer and a guitarist or two and a bassist and several horn players and a keyboardist there were two, yes TWO, full drum sets being played by two beat-pumping drummers. Wow! I got a workout, if you can believe it.
There is much more to write, but alas I´m not really feeling up to it. Apologies. Thanks as always for your comments and emails. I do get homesick at times and the familiar voices are welcome.
Morelia is, as mentioned, a beautiful town and I have enjoyed wandering through it. The heart of the city is the cathedral (which took over a century to build) and last night I attended an organ concert there. Quite an experience. Afterwards, I ended up making crepes with Marion the French girl and several Mexicans. We then proceeded to go out and I figured--what the heck, let me see the night life here. The first place was a sort of typical club like in the states... loud electronic-pop music, eye-piercing flashing lights, smoke, etc. We stayed for a bit as good sports for a guy named Carlos Alejandro (who insisted on being called Alexander) who initiated our trip to said club. But after a while Marion, me, and another Mexican fellow (whose name I can´t remember because he refused to spell it for me!) went to a more "mexican" place, where a live band played all kinds of fun music, like banda and ranchera and the locals danced well and the three of us danced a lot (not well). To give you a sense of the music, just imagine that in addition to a singer and a guitarist or two and a bassist and several horn players and a keyboardist there were two, yes TWO, full drum sets being played by two beat-pumping drummers. Wow! I got a workout, if you can believe it.
There is much more to write, but alas I´m not really feeling up to it. Apologies. Thanks as always for your comments and emails. I do get homesick at times and the familiar voices are welcome.
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Thursday, June 21, 2007
Hostel karma...
...as opposed to hostile karma.
I rolled into Morelia this afternoon, the capital of the state of Michoacán. I was nervous about finding a place to stay, as the only hostel in the city (according to the LP guidebook) has one room with four beds. But upon arriving, I hopped into a "combi" (like a microbus--think minivan that make routes) and made for town. A block and a half of walking and--aha--there it was...Hostal Allende. It is a beautiful little place on a cute little residential street and they had an available bed! I met some other travellers there--two american college guys here to study spanish and a woman they call the "francesa loca." We cooked up some cheese enchiladas with fresh veggies (oh how I was craving vegetables) and sat around and chatted, in a mix of spanish and english. A local dude named Alberto whom Paul and Nick had apparently befriended earlier stopped by to chat as we sat in the pleasant, open, sunny, shaded courtyard. We chatted in Spanish and it was so low-key that I may stay here a day or two longer than planned. I have yet to do a thorough tour of Morelia, but already I love it. It has so much colonial architecture (the town center and its many glorious buildings are a UNESCO world heritage site) and the attitude here seems rather ´tranquilo.´ It is a truly pleasant change after Mexico City, where the bustle and pollution wore a bit thin on me. I can see myself passing an hour or two in the verdant town square here, where such a thing would have been far from pleasant in el DF (Distrito Federal). Buildings are not as tall here, and the weather is pleasant (thus far!). This evening it seems that several of the hostel residents and some townies are going to go out. I´m not sure what this will entail, but it will be excellent Spanish practice and a good time, I´m sure. And we´ve somehow convinced Nick to sing a Swedish song from his childhood. A few observations after spending a short while with these folks. (A) At 27, I am a fair bit older than the average backpacker (the two americans and the french girl are each 20). (B) I think I would like to really study Spanish and get it to a much better place. I can definitely get by (I understood almost all of "The Big Empty" which was shown on the bus ride, dubbed in Spanish), but my grammar and vocab could definitely use a big boost. Maybe I´ll enroll in a course this fall...
So while in Mexico City, I did a combination of walking through different parts of the city and visiting sundry sights and museums. I have to say, since I didn´t really feel all that well while there (mental? physical?), I didn´t do all many of crazy looking around. But a few highlights before my time on the internet expires:
As you may know, Mexico City was built over the Aztec city of Tenochtitlán. The aztecs were only one of many civilizations to populate what is now Mexico, but their reach was broad. Well, right next to the main square (the Zócalo) and the cathedral is the site of the aztec Templo Mayor (Great Temple). This is the most important place for aztec ritual and administration. The great gods were offered their (human) sacrifices here in almost unbelievable quantity. The Templo Mayor occupies the site that the Aztecs believed to be the very center of the universe--the intersection between the horizontal world (the four directions) and the vertical worlds (the many levels of heaven and hell). And it is all right there in the middle of the city, partially excavated amidst the modern city. And so as I stared at the altars of Huizilopotchli and Tláloc where hundreds of thousands of human sacrifices were made, I could hear the sounds of street vendors hawking their wares and foods and the tunes of the city´s ubiquitous organ grinders (hard to envision a human heart getting cut out when one hears circus music and "elotes! elotes! quince pesos!").
After visiting the templo (where my Dana Hall ID earned me free admission to the site as well as the extensive and very good adjacent museum), I sat on a ledge amidst sundry vendors to decide what to do next. Before I know it, I find myself chatting politics with a fellow from Oaxaca. He approached me as a local and started asking me questions about my opinion of the Mexican government´s handling of certain issues. I said I was not from Mexico, and we got to talking... It was a truly awesome encounter and we talked for the better part of an hour about politics and democracy and revolution. He is working with a group of people (in solidarity with the teachers from Oaxaca) trying to foment a revolution in Mexico. A psychologist and a well-educated fellow, some of his ideas and opinions were solid, others made him sound a little loco (which he himself smilingly admitted). A selection follows; you can decide which are which for yourself:
-Mexico needs a revolution.
-the government is blind to the needs of the pueblo, as many mexicans live in poverty
-all wars are caused by injustice and inequality
-democracy in mexico is a facade, votes are cast but don´t matter
-the government is in the pocket of foreign transnational corporations, and as a result the people of the country get exploited while the govt and foreign companies profit
-change can be peaceful (Gandhi, MLK, etc), but...
-true revolution is violent as the people take up arms against the ruling class
-in fact, conflict is a part of human nature--it´s in our chromosomes...consider dominant and recessive genes from each of your parents, duking it out in your own genetics
-but we much reach a higher level of understanding, where we can see that we are all part of the same universe, that we share carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen
-and this higher level of understanding will be reached when the human species undergoes a single mutation in its genome, probably by the year 2012, and it will come from god as a very bright light (brighter than our sun) that is not hot to the skin will shine upon the Earth and god will make the mutation in everyone, allowing them to overcome their own conflicted nature
-until then, though, we need to fight... a revolution with "arms"
-or, we could try a more pacifist approach: build a solid movement in the country, where transnational enterprises are shunned (no eating at the many McDonald´s here or drinking Coca-cola) and mexican business are supported
-and, people could join land collectives and be self-sustaining communities, growing and producing their own goods and needs
-and, people should band together and concienciously object to paying their taxes, thereby striking the government in the coffers....
Rafael and I talked about other things, but here you get the sense of it. It was actually pretty fascinating to have a back-and-forth dialogue (in spanish) where we each challenged each others ideas and listened to new ones.
In other news altogther, I took in a fair bit of art in el DF (there is a huge exhibit on Frida Kahlo at el Palacio de Bella Artes, Diego Rivera´s murals--as well as those of Tamayo and Orozco--are all over the city, and a fascinating cutting edge art gallery featured some wild installations). I am really getting into Kahlo and Rivera--not only their story (they were married) but also the work of each of them...
Ay! My internet time is up and it is about to pour outside and I´ve got to get back to the hostel....
As always, thanks for your emails and comments...
I rolled into Morelia this afternoon, the capital of the state of Michoacán. I was nervous about finding a place to stay, as the only hostel in the city (according to the LP guidebook) has one room with four beds. But upon arriving, I hopped into a "combi" (like a microbus--think minivan that make routes) and made for town. A block and a half of walking and--aha--there it was...Hostal Allende. It is a beautiful little place on a cute little residential street and they had an available bed! I met some other travellers there--two american college guys here to study spanish and a woman they call the "francesa loca." We cooked up some cheese enchiladas with fresh veggies (oh how I was craving vegetables) and sat around and chatted, in a mix of spanish and english. A local dude named Alberto whom Paul and Nick had apparently befriended earlier stopped by to chat as we sat in the pleasant, open, sunny, shaded courtyard. We chatted in Spanish and it was so low-key that I may stay here a day or two longer than planned. I have yet to do a thorough tour of Morelia, but already I love it. It has so much colonial architecture (the town center and its many glorious buildings are a UNESCO world heritage site) and the attitude here seems rather ´tranquilo.´ It is a truly pleasant change after Mexico City, where the bustle and pollution wore a bit thin on me. I can see myself passing an hour or two in the verdant town square here, where such a thing would have been far from pleasant in el DF (Distrito Federal). Buildings are not as tall here, and the weather is pleasant (thus far!). This evening it seems that several of the hostel residents and some townies are going to go out. I´m not sure what this will entail, but it will be excellent Spanish practice and a good time, I´m sure. And we´ve somehow convinced Nick to sing a Swedish song from his childhood. A few observations after spending a short while with these folks. (A) At 27, I am a fair bit older than the average backpacker (the two americans and the french girl are each 20). (B) I think I would like to really study Spanish and get it to a much better place. I can definitely get by (I understood almost all of "The Big Empty" which was shown on the bus ride, dubbed in Spanish), but my grammar and vocab could definitely use a big boost. Maybe I´ll enroll in a course this fall...
So while in Mexico City, I did a combination of walking through different parts of the city and visiting sundry sights and museums. I have to say, since I didn´t really feel all that well while there (mental? physical?), I didn´t do all many of crazy looking around. But a few highlights before my time on the internet expires:
As you may know, Mexico City was built over the Aztec city of Tenochtitlán. The aztecs were only one of many civilizations to populate what is now Mexico, but their reach was broad. Well, right next to the main square (the Zócalo) and the cathedral is the site of the aztec Templo Mayor (Great Temple). This is the most important place for aztec ritual and administration. The great gods were offered their (human) sacrifices here in almost unbelievable quantity. The Templo Mayor occupies the site that the Aztecs believed to be the very center of the universe--the intersection between the horizontal world (the four directions) and the vertical worlds (the many levels of heaven and hell). And it is all right there in the middle of the city, partially excavated amidst the modern city. And so as I stared at the altars of Huizilopotchli and Tláloc where hundreds of thousands of human sacrifices were made, I could hear the sounds of street vendors hawking their wares and foods and the tunes of the city´s ubiquitous organ grinders (hard to envision a human heart getting cut out when one hears circus music and "elotes! elotes! quince pesos!").
After visiting the templo (where my Dana Hall ID earned me free admission to the site as well as the extensive and very good adjacent museum), I sat on a ledge amidst sundry vendors to decide what to do next. Before I know it, I find myself chatting politics with a fellow from Oaxaca. He approached me as a local and started asking me questions about my opinion of the Mexican government´s handling of certain issues. I said I was not from Mexico, and we got to talking... It was a truly awesome encounter and we talked for the better part of an hour about politics and democracy and revolution. He is working with a group of people (in solidarity with the teachers from Oaxaca) trying to foment a revolution in Mexico. A psychologist and a well-educated fellow, some of his ideas and opinions were solid, others made him sound a little loco (which he himself smilingly admitted). A selection follows; you can decide which are which for yourself:
-Mexico needs a revolution.
-the government is blind to the needs of the pueblo, as many mexicans live in poverty
-all wars are caused by injustice and inequality
-democracy in mexico is a facade, votes are cast but don´t matter
-the government is in the pocket of foreign transnational corporations, and as a result the people of the country get exploited while the govt and foreign companies profit
-change can be peaceful (Gandhi, MLK, etc), but...
-true revolution is violent as the people take up arms against the ruling class
-in fact, conflict is a part of human nature--it´s in our chromosomes...consider dominant and recessive genes from each of your parents, duking it out in your own genetics
-but we much reach a higher level of understanding, where we can see that we are all part of the same universe, that we share carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen
-and this higher level of understanding will be reached when the human species undergoes a single mutation in its genome, probably by the year 2012, and it will come from god as a very bright light (brighter than our sun) that is not hot to the skin will shine upon the Earth and god will make the mutation in everyone, allowing them to overcome their own conflicted nature
-until then, though, we need to fight... a revolution with "arms"
-or, we could try a more pacifist approach: build a solid movement in the country, where transnational enterprises are shunned (no eating at the many McDonald´s here or drinking Coca-cola) and mexican business are supported
-and, people could join land collectives and be self-sustaining communities, growing and producing their own goods and needs
-and, people should band together and concienciously object to paying their taxes, thereby striking the government in the coffers....
Rafael and I talked about other things, but here you get the sense of it. It was actually pretty fascinating to have a back-and-forth dialogue (in spanish) where we each challenged each others ideas and listened to new ones.
In other news altogther, I took in a fair bit of art in el DF (there is a huge exhibit on Frida Kahlo at el Palacio de Bella Artes, Diego Rivera´s murals--as well as those of Tamayo and Orozco--are all over the city, and a fascinating cutting edge art gallery featured some wild installations). I am really getting into Kahlo and Rivera--not only their story (they were married) but also the work of each of them...
Ay! My internet time is up and it is about to pour outside and I´ve got to get back to the hostel....
As always, thanks for your emails and comments...
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Keep looking...
A hot shower and a cold drink have the combined power to put nearly anything in perspective, to provide respite after even the most taxing of voyages.
However, the price of this realization was hard won. Although my flight into Mexico was simple and my passage through customs only impeded by my inability to write things like my "nombre" and check the correct box after "are you carrying billions of dollars into the country?", things got a bit tougher once I was in the country.
I managed to find space for me and my 50 lbs of luggage (most of which is books and binders for the course I will teach) on the city´s metro. The subway is fantastically easy to navigate and at 2 pesos (about 20 cents) a ride, it is a great deal. And very forgiving if one needs to travel much...
Having consulted my Lonely Planet guidebook, I had picked out a cute-sounding hostel (Hostal San Sebastian) in la Zona Rosa of the city. The sky was overcast as I made my way through various subway transfers and sundry streetways, toting my pack. I managed to find the building--or at least the address--of the hostel, and found it oddly uninviting... no sign, no answer to the doorbell. I inquired about this with the gentlemen across the street who confirmed my suspicion that "este hostal ya no existe¨" Bueno. I stopped to eat a rice krispie treat that I had brought and looked up another hostel--Villa H. I navigated many blocks and found what I thought should be the hostel. It was strangely guised as a barbeque restaurant. I asked the gentleman leaning against the window, and he pointed me in another direction after consulting a friend. Like a scavenger hunt, this scenario repeated itself as each person I asked at the new location proceeded to give me directions to a different place. The hostel seemed a mirage. After I realized I had done several laps through the Zona Rosa, I began to feel a bit fatigued. Strike two. I tucked into the lobby of a fancy hotel to avail myself of the couch and a chance to make a plan C about sleeping arrangements (and eat another rice krispie treat). I had all but decided to head to a totally different part of town when the concierge-type fellow asked if I was coming or going. I explained I was heading to the metro ("with that giant backpack?!") and we began to chat. I explained about the hostel I was looking for and Adrian told me to go to Hostal Casa Viejo, just one metro stop away, where his buddy Alberto Rivera worked. Super--a personal connection! I used the trusty metro again to find this next possibility. After looking all around near the metro stop Sevilla, I began to ask more people about this Casa Viejo. I came up empty everytime. I finally asked a policeman who said he didn´t know about that place but had seen another hostel with a brown sign around the block. Circling further, I made several more attempts to find a brown sign, or any sign. I sat on the curb and ate my last rice krispie treat. Strikes three and four. I felt a few raindrops from that grey sky.
I decided to head into el Centro Historico and try my luck there. While riding all the way back on a very crowded metro, I had time to consider how much faith I ought to put in this tome of a guidebook. It is well within my travel style to go with the flow on these sorts of things, but truly this was getting to be a bit much. The upside was that everyone I talked with was friendly and helpful. They asked others to get an answer if they didn´t know it, and they would kindly tell you what they could (which, unfortunately in this case, was overall very little).
In el centro, I took my chances on a "Hotel Zamora," which I managed to not only find but it also existed and had a room available. As a hotel, I was able to get a single room with a shared bath as opposed to a bed in a dorm-style accomodation. But seeing as to how it was only a few dollars more than a hostel ($13 vs. $10), and seeing as to how I was there, it was a wonderful option.
The room is on the third floor and has a double door that opens onto a view of the street. It is airy and clean and I am so happy I found it. I took a shower, and the frustrations and sweat went down the drain. Perspective was restored and I was set to get some dinner (not rice kripsie treats) and explore la ciudad--without my pack!
However, the price of this realization was hard won. Although my flight into Mexico was simple and my passage through customs only impeded by my inability to write things like my "nombre" and check the correct box after "are you carrying billions of dollars into the country?", things got a bit tougher once I was in the country.
I managed to find space for me and my 50 lbs of luggage (most of which is books and binders for the course I will teach) on the city´s metro. The subway is fantastically easy to navigate and at 2 pesos (about 20 cents) a ride, it is a great deal. And very forgiving if one needs to travel much...
Having consulted my Lonely Planet guidebook, I had picked out a cute-sounding hostel (Hostal San Sebastian) in la Zona Rosa of the city. The sky was overcast as I made my way through various subway transfers and sundry streetways, toting my pack. I managed to find the building--or at least the address--of the hostel, and found it oddly uninviting... no sign, no answer to the doorbell. I inquired about this with the gentlemen across the street who confirmed my suspicion that "este hostal ya no existe¨" Bueno. I stopped to eat a rice krispie treat that I had brought and looked up another hostel--Villa H. I navigated many blocks and found what I thought should be the hostel. It was strangely guised as a barbeque restaurant. I asked the gentleman leaning against the window, and he pointed me in another direction after consulting a friend. Like a scavenger hunt, this scenario repeated itself as each person I asked at the new location proceeded to give me directions to a different place. The hostel seemed a mirage. After I realized I had done several laps through the Zona Rosa, I began to feel a bit fatigued. Strike two. I tucked into the lobby of a fancy hotel to avail myself of the couch and a chance to make a plan C about sleeping arrangements (and eat another rice krispie treat). I had all but decided to head to a totally different part of town when the concierge-type fellow asked if I was coming or going. I explained I was heading to the metro ("with that giant backpack?!") and we began to chat. I explained about the hostel I was looking for and Adrian told me to go to Hostal Casa Viejo, just one metro stop away, where his buddy Alberto Rivera worked. Super--a personal connection! I used the trusty metro again to find this next possibility. After looking all around near the metro stop Sevilla, I began to ask more people about this Casa Viejo. I came up empty everytime. I finally asked a policeman who said he didn´t know about that place but had seen another hostel with a brown sign around the block. Circling further, I made several more attempts to find a brown sign, or any sign. I sat on the curb and ate my last rice krispie treat. Strikes three and four. I felt a few raindrops from that grey sky.
I decided to head into el Centro Historico and try my luck there. While riding all the way back on a very crowded metro, I had time to consider how much faith I ought to put in this tome of a guidebook. It is well within my travel style to go with the flow on these sorts of things, but truly this was getting to be a bit much. The upside was that everyone I talked with was friendly and helpful. They asked others to get an answer if they didn´t know it, and they would kindly tell you what they could (which, unfortunately in this case, was overall very little).
In el centro, I took my chances on a "Hotel Zamora," which I managed to not only find but it also existed and had a room available. As a hotel, I was able to get a single room with a shared bath as opposed to a bed in a dorm-style accomodation. But seeing as to how it was only a few dollars more than a hostel ($13 vs. $10), and seeing as to how I was there, it was a wonderful option.
The room is on the third floor and has a double door that opens onto a view of the street. It is airy and clean and I am so happy I found it. I took a shower, and the frustrations and sweat went down the drain. Perspective was restored and I was set to get some dinner (not rice kripsie treats) and explore la ciudad--without my pack!
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Thursday, June 14, 2007
Hooray for photos...
Thanks to my brother for helping me bumpily merge into the 21st century by integrating photos in my blog. I'll try and post future photos in this way. Enjoy the embedded slideshow as is or click on the picture to see the slideshow larger. You'll be taken to the Sharpcast website, where you can click on "View as Slideshow" on the upper right (even though my brother says "no one is really going to want to take those two extra clicks to see your pictures enlarged when they are right there in the blog to begin with." Point taken). But you can try it if you like.
So here are basically "test photos" under the guise of "an artful series on the metaphysical nature of packing."
So here are basically "test photos" under the guise of "an artful series on the metaphysical nature of packing."
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Voy a México?!
There are times when one is overcome with thoughts and feelings in such a way that the prospect of writing it all in words is too daunting of a task to do those ideas justice. In these moments, one way to settle the mind is to distill the churnings of the mind into a disciplined format. The finite frame of the seventeen simple syllables of haiku seems a welcome constraint in such times when one might otherwise drown in the flood of thought and emotion.
Now is not one of those times. But, as I anticipate the coming of such moments, I will now practice putting my thoughts into haiku*.
La ocsuridad
El estrés de no saber.
Voy a México?!
(which I intend to mean something like... "the darkness, the stress of not knowing. I am going to Mexico?!"...)
All of this is to say that I leave for Mexico in something like 80 hours and I'm nowhere near prepared to do so. I feel I have much to do before then, but the kicker is that I have no real sense of that I have to do before then. There are concrete things like "figure out how to use my new camera" and "get a travel size bottle of Pert Plus because I like how it cleans my hair" and "deposit that old check in the bank." But what looms darker are things like "figure out where to go and what to do in Mexico" and "plan the course I am teaching." The latter is particularly unsettling because I really have no idea what to expect in this course and as a result I'm not sure how to go about preparing for it in terms of lessons, materials, and even my own mental approach. I'm going to teach a course I've never taught (Biotechnology) to a group of students unlike ones I've ever taught (coed, "gifted" 7th-10th graders) in a very different format (7 hours of class a day) at a site I've never seen (a university) in a country I'm a stranger to (Mexico) with a summer program I've never worked with (CTY) at a site that is even new for the program itself. It's a lot of "new" and "different" and "first" experiences. It will be really good for me, but like anything that is good for me, it won't be easy. I suspect things will get easier once I have a clue about what is going on, and I suspect this won't be until I'm already teaching.
As for the planning the trip part of it, I'm less concerned. I have some experience in Latin America and I am a pretty easy-going, take-it-as-it-comes traveler. I may take a bus somewhere or I may not. I may stay a day or I may stay three. I may find a hostel right away or I may have to walk around a bit asking for a room. I may have a meal at that local comedor on the corner or I may get bread and an avocado at the market. I may meet some other travelers or some locals or nobody at all. This all having been said, I have yet to read up on Mexican history and culture (though I have the books, gracias a E.G.) and determine whereabouts in Mexico I want to go. As with the course, this all will fall into place and seem far less daunting once I'm actually IN Mexico. Perhaps at that time I'll have something more interesting to report on than ocsuridad and estrés. I certainly hope so, and I'm sure you do too. Still, it is a fascinating thing to say that I have no idea where I will be or what I'll be doing a week from today. All I can say is I'll be somewhere in Mexico and I will hopefully be remembering to take my weekly malaria pill (I'm on a "take the chloroquine on Tuesdays no matter how much I don't want to" regimen so as to avoid a repeat performance of the time I got malaria in India....).
I'm off now to continue swimming in this darkness that is the unknown before departure.
*okay okay I know true haiku need not be restricted by syllable and often includes references to season and is a much more complex poetic form than I make it out to be here... still, there is utility to this elementary take on haiku!
Now is not one of those times. But, as I anticipate the coming of such moments, I will now practice putting my thoughts into haiku*.
La ocsuridad
El estrés de no saber.
Voy a México?!
(which I intend to mean something like... "the darkness, the stress of not knowing. I am going to Mexico?!"...)
All of this is to say that I leave for Mexico in something like 80 hours and I'm nowhere near prepared to do so. I feel I have much to do before then, but the kicker is that I have no real sense of that I have to do before then. There are concrete things like "figure out how to use my new camera" and "get a travel size bottle of Pert Plus because I like how it cleans my hair" and "deposit that old check in the bank." But what looms darker are things like "figure out where to go and what to do in Mexico" and "plan the course I am teaching." The latter is particularly unsettling because I really have no idea what to expect in this course and as a result I'm not sure how to go about preparing for it in terms of lessons, materials, and even my own mental approach. I'm going to teach a course I've never taught (Biotechnology) to a group of students unlike ones I've ever taught (coed, "gifted" 7th-10th graders) in a very different format (7 hours of class a day) at a site I've never seen (a university) in a country I'm a stranger to (Mexico) with a summer program I've never worked with (CTY) at a site that is even new for the program itself. It's a lot of "new" and "different" and "first" experiences. It will be really good for me, but like anything that is good for me, it won't be easy. I suspect things will get easier once I have a clue about what is going on, and I suspect this won't be until I'm already teaching.
As for the planning the trip part of it, I'm less concerned. I have some experience in Latin America and I am a pretty easy-going, take-it-as-it-comes traveler. I may take a bus somewhere or I may not. I may stay a day or I may stay three. I may find a hostel right away or I may have to walk around a bit asking for a room. I may have a meal at that local comedor on the corner or I may get bread and an avocado at the market. I may meet some other travelers or some locals or nobody at all. This all having been said, I have yet to read up on Mexican history and culture (though I have the books, gracias a E.G.) and determine whereabouts in Mexico I want to go. As with the course, this all will fall into place and seem far less daunting once I'm actually IN Mexico. Perhaps at that time I'll have something more interesting to report on than ocsuridad and estrés. I certainly hope so, and I'm sure you do too. Still, it is a fascinating thing to say that I have no idea where I will be or what I'll be doing a week from today. All I can say is I'll be somewhere in Mexico and I will hopefully be remembering to take my weekly malaria pill (I'm on a "take the chloroquine on Tuesdays no matter how much I don't want to" regimen so as to avoid a repeat performance of the time I got malaria in India....).
I'm off now to continue swimming in this darkness that is the unknown before departure.
*okay okay I know true haiku need not be restricted by syllable and often includes references to season and is a much more complex poetic form than I make it out to be here... still, there is utility to this elementary take on haiku!
Saturday, June 2, 2007
South of the Border, baby!
Even though this stack of exams and a looming set of grades and comments might conspire to have me think otherwise, I am in fact going to Mexico in just under two weeks! I will be resuscitating my rusty Spanish skills, dusting off my pack, and heading south of the border to travel, teach, and travel again for the summer. I landed a job teaching science in a summer program in Cholula, Mexico for the month of July, and I plan to explore the richness of Mexico for two weeks on either side of my stay in Cholula (near Puebla, southeast of Mexico City). I've never been to Mexico, never combined work and travel quite like this, never taught in a summer program... In many ways this will be an adventure of "firsts" and I suppose that is the best kind to have. I expect to learn a lot from the teaching experience (it will be rather different than my usual teaching gig in terms of students, schedule, curriculum, colleagues, and location) and thoroughly enjoy my travels as well.
I will do my best to update this blog periodically, bringing you all the stories you never knew you didn't want to read about my time abroad. Do email me with your comments, queries, and more. A familiar e-voice will be more than welcome once I start my peregrinations.
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