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!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
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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