Due to popular demand, I have returned to recap the final couple weeks of my life in Mexico.
LA ULTIMA SEMANA EN SAN MIGUEL
The last week in San Miguel. The whole week was one long goodbye, more or less, which made it borderline unbearable because of my previously expressed preference for the quick and painless see-ya-and-flee-ya style farewells. Donna, Amanda, Helen (another volunteer), and I went out to dinner at El Rinconcito (The Little Corner) on Wednesday night and I had a delicious spinach and shrimp quesadilla as my final nice Mexican meal. Thursday was the big send-off. My last day at the daycare. Saying goodbye to the kids was heartwrenching. Despite the best efforts of the maestras, most of them didn't understand what it meant that I was leaving for my home far, far away, never to return. A few intelligent outliers did, though, which only made it worse. My swift escape at the end of the day was facilitated by my plans with most of the daycare staff to go out for drinks that night, thus reducing my number of immediately necessary goodbyes. For some things postponement is always preferable. My bee-line exit turned into more of a fruit-fly-line exit as the moms who knew it was my last day expressed their gratitude and I made sure all of the teachers were invited out that night, but I finally broke free. Over the last 8 or 9 years Casa/Hogar de los Angeles has had over 800 volunteers so I know the majority of the Mexicanitos have already forgotten about me, but I don't anticipate forgetting a single name.
DIA DE ACCION DE GRACIAS
Thursday (the 25th) was also Thanksgiving, as all of you proud, red-white (cell)-and-blue blooded Americans should know. Amanda and I went to Michael's house to have dinner with his very entertaining, very Texan family. Poppy also came to represent the integral British side to Thanksgiving, and Ozvanny came to remind us all that we were still in Mexico. A hired group of Mexican cooks provided the traditional American dishes (minus gravy...) and a father-daughter duo played live music for us, all set in the nicest house I have ever been in. Michael had fun telling the other guests that I voted for Obama. I didn't actually vote this year, so my typical honest response of "You know that's not true!" was usually enough to quell any impending confrontations. We may not see eye-to-eye on everything, but his family is amazing. Fun, quirky, and unwaveringly hospitable in true Southern fashion. I couldn't imagine a better way to have spent my first Thanksgiving away from home. Unfortunately we had to cut the night short to make our date with the teachers. We met them back near the daycare for micheladas. Micheladas are enormous Mexican drinks made of beer and a bunch of other stuff. The first one I ordered had mango, salsa, chili, and whatever else they put in a michelada. The second one was tomato juice, salsa, chili, and whatever else they put in a michelada. Sadly I had gorged myself on turkey at Michael's dinner so I was kind of a downer the rest of the night. The maestras got just drunk enough to keep me awake before slowly filtering out back to their families. Amanda and I ran back to the center of town so I could say bye to Ozvanny, Michael, Poppy, and my life in San Miguel. The next morning I was off to Mexico City.
MEXICO D.F.
I met Stu at the airport in Mexico City late Friday afternoon. I was like "what's up" and he was like "what's up" and we headed off to our Hugo's (our Couchsurfer) house. For those of you who don't know, www.couchsurfing.com is an amazing website that has people all over the world join to offer up their house for travelers to stay in free of charge. Hugo is a 30-year old Shell employee with a comfortable apartment and a disposition to match. Friday night he took us to the Lucha Libre matches (masked Mexican wrestling). It wasn't impressive, but it was fun. On Saturday Stu and I took the bus out to Teotihuacan, the ancient Aztec city. Well, the Aztecs named it Teotihuacan but it's old as sin so lots of people have been there... te Teotihuacan people for instance... Anyway, the ruins were breathtaking. The sheer size of the stone buildings on the expansive site would impress anyone (except maybe a blind man in a wheelchair whose companions refuse to push him around the site or describe it to him). Having just finished reading Aztec made it much more interesting for me personally. The next day we took a Turibus around Mexico City for the most efficient city tour possible. We saw the tallest building in some large area, a huge dog sculpture, and some more ruins (Templo Mayor) right in the city center. It really is the best way to get oriented with a city of that size.
PUERTO ESCONDIDO
Sunday night marked the departure for the first of many overnight bus rides as Stu, my tattoo, and I embarked on our way to Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca. Beach time was a must. We were in Mexico, after all. Puerto Escondido (Hidden Port) is a touristy but very laid back town with a couple pristine beaches. It also gave us a chance to sit around and unwind for a couple days. The beach was relaxing and the hostel was nice but the Australian hostel owner, Steve, was a few poorly delivered jokes short of a Ben Stiller movie, if you know what I mean... Every time we saw him his first words were "Hey who are you boys!" He seemed to be the victim of a permanent mid-life crisis, but he ran a pretty cool hostel. Our one adventure in Puerto Escondido was an early morning sport fishing/dolphin watching/turtle swimming boat ride with three yawn-inducing German girls. One of them, the vegetarian, was horrified when Stu caught a giant fish within the first 10 minutes of the trip. I don't know what part of sport fishing sounded appealing to her, but it didn't seem to be the part where the Mexican boat driver bludgeoned Stu's fish to death with a crudely carved tree branch either. Nobody caught a fish after that, but we saw a bunch of dolphins. On the way back to shore I told the driver I wanted to swim with a sea turtle, so he said we'd find one. The plan was to dive in the water, swiftly commandeer the turtle, and use it to pull me wherever I steered it. Dive in the water: check. I was warned about the danger of the sharp shell and given no pointers on technique, so I was really never even close. After three failed attempts the driver said he'd catch one for me. Of course it was no effort for him to stick the rudder handle between his legs as he took off his hat and shirt, prepare a roap with a loop in it, cut the engine, dive off the moving boat, and lasso the turtle's fin to keep it from swimming away from me. Swith the turtle with a bad guy and it was straight out of a James Bond movie. After that swimming with the turtle was child's play. As he pulled the turtle on board to give everyone a closer look it made a comical attempt at biting me as it was dragged past me in the water. Once on the boat, the driver showed us the strength of the turtle's jaw/beak combo by letting him bite the stomach out of Stu's fish. So much for dinner. The major events of my brief swim on the turtle's back were something like this: Grab turtle's shell. Turtle turn toward boat and swim straight down. Let go of turtle immediately. Totally worth it.
SAN CRISTOBAL DE LAS CASAS
San Cristobal is in the Southeastern state of Chiapas. Chiapas borders Guatemala and is famous for its indigenous population and handmade textile industry. It will be remembered by me for its two peso tacos. We mostly just walked around in San Cristobal, stopping at a couple churches and some local markets. The town would be great to live in, but as a tourist you really don't need more than a day or two. Everything is really lively and colorful and it just has one of those natural easy-going vibes.
PALENQUE
I think Palenque was the consensus favorite stop of our two-week voyage. Palenque is a city in the rainforest of Chiapas. The city itself is nothing to blog about, but the Mayan ruins and rainforest waterfalls most definitely are. We rented a room in this bungalow complex in the forest right outside the pyramids for $10 a night. The Palenque archaeological site was the best of the three we saw, mainly because it was in the rainforest and I love the rainforest. It seemed an unlikely location for a city to develop, which is maybe why it didn't really last all that long. There are plenty of well-preserved paintings and carvings and all the venders you could ever want. The venders are actually a point of interest, though, because of their foreign non-Spanish languages and their extremely colorful art. From the Palenque ruins we took a van to the Misol-Ha waterfall. My camera died at the pyramids so I have no pictures of Misol-Ha, but it's a pretty typical towering rainforest waterfall with a cold swimming hole at the bottom. Behind the waterfall is a 40 meter deep cave in the rock that you can explore for 10 pesos, but you can see practically to the end without even entering. From there we took the van to Aguas Azul, the most famous of the Palenque-related waterfalls. Aguas Azul is a string of shorter waterfalls with lots of pools for swimming or bathing. It gets its name (translated as blue waters) from the clear blue color of the water. Many people live along the waterfall and appeared to be using it for daily bathing activities. We hiked along the falls for around 30 minutes before concluding that they never ended. That's when we finally stopped for some food and a couple souvenirs. The next day we walked aimlessly around the city of Palenque waiting for our third and final overnight bus to leave. While waiting I finally got up the courage to try some disgusting tacos. I ordered two tripe tacos, one tongue taco, and one brain taco. I finished everything except the brain taco, which I ate half of. Horrificly nauseating, but I'm smarter because of it.
OAXACA
Oaxaca City, Oaxaca was the last real stop on our tour. On our arrival day we used whatever energy we had leftover from the bus ride to wander around the city. It's the biggest city we visited after Mexico City but, like Chiapas, it has a large indigenous population which helps make it more than just another big city. It also has a set of ruins on a mountain overlooking the city that we saw the following day. Monte Alban, an ancient Zapotec capital, is another archaeological site worth visiting if ever provided the opportunity. In some ways pyramids are just pyramids, but the three sites we visited each impressive in quite different ways, more for their natural settings than their historical or tribal origins. Hopefully the pictures will get some of that across.
BACK HOME
Uneventful for the most part. We spent our last night back in Mexico City with Hugo, ate some delicious tacos de pastor as our last Mexican meal, and took the subway to the airport the next day. Our first airplane was delayed just enough to make us miss our connecting flight in Atlanta, so my first night back in the US was spent on the wrong coast. But the hotel was comfortable and we were hooked up with some extra food vouchers. The plane ride was uncomfortable and included no free movies, so I played trivia against some other random passengers. Did you know Gerald Ford was the only person to serve as both vice president and president without ever being elected to either office? Well a lot of you probably did actually.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
- Ancient ruins would be way more awesome if they dressed up a bunch of indigenous people in era-appropriate clothing and had them walk around re-enacting the lives of former inhabitants. The most awe-inspiring part of seeing ancient artifacts is trying to imagine them being used in real life!
- In another Berg's Eye View I complained about Mexican people assuming I couldn't speak Spanish. Hugo explained to me that it's actually just the Mexican inclination toward hospitality. All they want is for me to feel at home at comfortable. It's a nice sentiment, but not totally convincing considering all the travellers there who spoke no Spanish.
- Although politics might be good indicators for some aspects of an individual's personality, for many intents and purposes politics are just politics.
- Subway systems are by far the best form of public transportation.
- Conservative people are not smart enough to recognize their own biases. They attributed the attacks in India that week to Obama's recent victory, saying his less aggressive approach to terrorism (the Middle East) opened the door for the attacks. It was irrelevant that although Obama has already assumed everything presidential except the title, technically Bush still has the power to prevent/respond/whatever, as was the fact that 9/11 happened during Bush's actual first year in office. Really Bush saved us by not letting 9/11 happen again. Of course there are equally ignored biases by all other political groups, but why would I want to recognize those?
- Mexican subtitles are really well thought-out. For instance, on High School Musical 2, when the songs are translated to Spanish, they are still made to rhyme. That way if you want to read the subtitles out loud it's still like a real song.
- Twilight might officially be the least enjoyable movie I have ever seen. I'm sure I have seen "worse" movies... meaning worse in a technical sense... but all of those "worse" movies have some redeeming entertainment value that allows Twilight to fall below them. To explain would require a new blog post, longer than all the rest combined. For any of you who enjoyed it, I am thoroughly insulted that you could like both that film and this blog.
- Blogging is so much easier than e-mailing.
ON THAT NOTE
The Blah Blah Blog is officially terminated. I hope those of you who made it this far found it to be, at the very least, a worthwile break from work.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
Seattle Miguel de Allende
I've been having a lot of Seattle incidents lately. In Patzcuaro someone saw me wearing my Mariners hat and yelled "Sea-Town! Yeah!" I already posted a picture of the Shawn Kemp jersey I saw someone wearing (even though it was a Cavs jersey). Also in Patzcuaro, a woman selling random clothing had a Gary Payton Sonics jersey hanging on the wall. And on my way home yesterday there was a Mexican guy down the block from my house wearing a UW sweatshirt. I should have said something to him, but I didn't...
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
More Pictures
Just re-upping the link to my photobucket site. I've also included the last-updated date for each album so it's easy to figure out where there are new pictures (if anyone actually looks at all of them). http://s438.photobucket.com/albums/qq105/alexbergstrom/
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Mi Familia, Mi Viaje, y Mi Tatuaje
A lot has happened since our last installment, so once again I'll break it down into sections.
MOM AND AUNTIE SAL IN SAN MIGUEL
Arrival day didn't quite go as planned, but it wasn't a complete failure. After a flight delay, Mom and Sally didn't reach San Miguel until 11:30 at night. On my way to the bus station to meet them, a dog I pass everyday snuck up behind me and bit my leg. Chances are he is rabid, but fortunately he bit my calf, which probably did more damage to his teeth than to my skin. This turned out to be a false omen as the rest of the trip went smoothly. They helped out in the baby room at the daycare for a couple days, and all other time was spent exploring the city. They treated me to meals in restaurants, which I would otherwise never have, some other treats, and of course, their company. Oh yeah and a tattoo. I've been talking big about getting a tattoo for around five years now, and the deed is finally done. My loving mother wanted to treat me to a souvenir, and we thought a little piece of body art might be a memorable one, considering it's permanent. We stumbled across the tattoo parlor on accident after finding nothing in the phone book or on the internet. Then we looked at hundreds of pictures (since I didn't have anything in mind), and after leaving, thinking, and coming back, I landed on some symbol that supposedly means "water," though could very well be part of some made-up tattoo language. It's pretty small... nothing too crazy... and it's right where my chest meets my shoulder. I don't exactly know how to describe it, but I'll try. There is what looks like an elongated, wavy water drop a little over two inches long, with two smaller but elongated drops running parallel on either side of it, making five "water drops" all together. They're colored two shades of blue and a little bit of white to make them look like water. It has no profound meaning whatsoever, though I suppose I do like water. I simply liked how the lines looked together and liked the tattoo artist's idea of where to put it and how to color it. It's pretty much just a few blue slashes above my armpit... but I like it. Mom and Sally stayed to watch but couldn't be convinced to get their own. Thanks, Mom!
ANGANGUEO
On Saturday we hired a driver to take us to the quaint town of Angangueo. Angangueo had more stores than people, so naturally there were a lot of closed doors. The center of town consisted of a church, another church, and the small space between the churches. The only tourism draw of the town is its proximity to the famous monarch butterfly reserves. Every November, somewhere near 100 million monarch butterflies migrate to the region, probably to make butterfly babies or something. After their vigorous (or however they do it) mating, like humans, they hibernate. Since for some scientifically inexplicable reason winter is coming later this year, so only a third of the butterflies had arrived by the time we did. It was still an impressive site, and the legends of butterflies clumped together so densely that they bend tree branches turned out to be entirely true. At night, with nothing much else to do, we froze. So Sally treated us to our choice of wool accessories from a street-side stand, and we ordered hot chocolate back at the hotel. I wore a hat, a scarf, all my clothes, and shared a bed, and still woke up many times throughout the night. The next morning we rushed off to the nearby city of Zitacuaro to send half our group off to Mexico City and the other half to bustling Morelia. The departure was Band-Aid-esque and just like that it was back to just me and Amanda.
MORELIA
Despite the sad farewell, the three-hour bus ride to Morelia was actually quite pleasant. You know how you'll be on a road trip, or staring at a window, or doing anything else where you have time to think, and a song will come on the radio that fits the situation so perfectly that it feels like you're in a movie scene? That's exactly what happened on the bus as a solo mariachi got up in the middle and played some traditional Mexican music as I gazed out over the choppy hills of beige corn fields pocked with bunches of green cacti or other shrubs, leaning fence posts, and piles of brick crumbs from wall sections (abandoned efforts to build houses) being slovenly chewed up by time and a constricting budget. The city of Morelia was impressive. Not extraordinarily unique, but impressive nonetheless. For one thing, the trash cans on the street had garbage bags in them. Other than that, it's basically a big city with some historical significance and a cool center of town with lots of old buildings. There are plenty of cities like that in the world, and they're always fun to see. We tried the local delicacy: a cup filled with chopped fruit and onions, salt, cheese, chili, and filled about halfway with orange juice. It had the familiar appearance of fresh vomit, but tasted just the opposite. We checked out a free natural history museum in one of the city parks and marvelled at the jars filled with deformed fetuses. Our walking would have been completely aimless, which is of course fine, if Amanda hadn't wanted to stop in every church in town. I was planning to try my hand at Couchsurfing in Morelia but completely forgot, so we ended up paying more than we had hoped for a hostel that had run out of dorm beds for men. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise. We got to watch Bewitched AND Fun With Dick and Jane on our room's TV!
PATZCUARO
Patzcuaro is a neat little town just down the highway from Morelia. They had some old looking buildings as well, but the main draw seems to be the lake. Patzcuaro Lake is fairly big as far as lakes go, and extremely dirty as far as dirty things go. They're local treat is a plate or cup full of tiny little fish fried whole and covered with chili powder and lime (like everything else in Mexico). I didn't get to try any because I was told to not eat fish or pork for a week after getting tatted up due to some toxins in those particular meats. Anyway, in the lake are a few islands, all tiny, but mostly inhabited. The one Amanda and I went to looked more like a floating pile of houses than an island. Stores, houses, restaurants, and whatever else covered every square inch of ground except for the winding path that weaved between them. We made it to the top of the house-mound and back down just in time to head back to Morelia for our bus ride home. That bus ride wasn't horrible, but it didn't go by as quickly as the one there. We watched The Gospel and The Ringer in Spanish, and 10 or 15 minutes of some movie in English before arriving in San Miguel, where I ate some tacos from my taco spot and passed out.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
-Towns with colleges are generally cooler than towns without colleges.
-There is a "public notary" on nearly every block of Mexico.
-Everyone in Mexico who owns a store is an "artisan"
-Everyone gives the "ehh, kiiinnnda" look when asked if tattoos hurt. Obviously they hurt, they're just not the most painful things in the world. Furthermore, tattoos are only as big of a deal as you choose to make them.
-I have a better mom and aunt than anyone else in the world except for Tyler and Tim, who are both tied with me.
-After having a taste of my sweet life at home, I know I'll be ready to be back in Seattle when my trip is over. I miss you all a lot and am looking forward to my return, but I still have a lot of things to do here before I'm ready... like kick it with Rt.
MOM AND AUNTIE SAL IN SAN MIGUEL
Arrival day didn't quite go as planned, but it wasn't a complete failure. After a flight delay, Mom and Sally didn't reach San Miguel until 11:30 at night. On my way to the bus station to meet them, a dog I pass everyday snuck up behind me and bit my leg. Chances are he is rabid, but fortunately he bit my calf, which probably did more damage to his teeth than to my skin. This turned out to be a false omen as the rest of the trip went smoothly. They helped out in the baby room at the daycare for a couple days, and all other time was spent exploring the city. They treated me to meals in restaurants, which I would otherwise never have, some other treats, and of course, their company. Oh yeah and a tattoo. I've been talking big about getting a tattoo for around five years now, and the deed is finally done. My loving mother wanted to treat me to a souvenir, and we thought a little piece of body art might be a memorable one, considering it's permanent. We stumbled across the tattoo parlor on accident after finding nothing in the phone book or on the internet. Then we looked at hundreds of pictures (since I didn't have anything in mind), and after leaving, thinking, and coming back, I landed on some symbol that supposedly means "water," though could very well be part of some made-up tattoo language. It's pretty small... nothing too crazy... and it's right where my chest meets my shoulder. I don't exactly know how to describe it, but I'll try. There is what looks like an elongated, wavy water drop a little over two inches long, with two smaller but elongated drops running parallel on either side of it, making five "water drops" all together. They're colored two shades of blue and a little bit of white to make them look like water. It has no profound meaning whatsoever, though I suppose I do like water. I simply liked how the lines looked together and liked the tattoo artist's idea of where to put it and how to color it. It's pretty much just a few blue slashes above my armpit... but I like it. Mom and Sally stayed to watch but couldn't be convinced to get their own. Thanks, Mom!
ANGANGUEO
On Saturday we hired a driver to take us to the quaint town of Angangueo. Angangueo had more stores than people, so naturally there were a lot of closed doors. The center of town consisted of a church, another church, and the small space between the churches. The only tourism draw of the town is its proximity to the famous monarch butterfly reserves. Every November, somewhere near 100 million monarch butterflies migrate to the region, probably to make butterfly babies or something. After their vigorous (or however they do it) mating, like humans, they hibernate. Since for some scientifically inexplicable reason winter is coming later this year, so only a third of the butterflies had arrived by the time we did. It was still an impressive site, and the legends of butterflies clumped together so densely that they bend tree branches turned out to be entirely true. At night, with nothing much else to do, we froze. So Sally treated us to our choice of wool accessories from a street-side stand, and we ordered hot chocolate back at the hotel. I wore a hat, a scarf, all my clothes, and shared a bed, and still woke up many times throughout the night. The next morning we rushed off to the nearby city of Zitacuaro to send half our group off to Mexico City and the other half to bustling Morelia. The departure was Band-Aid-esque and just like that it was back to just me and Amanda.
MORELIA
Despite the sad farewell, the three-hour bus ride to Morelia was actually quite pleasant. You know how you'll be on a road trip, or staring at a window, or doing anything else where you have time to think, and a song will come on the radio that fits the situation so perfectly that it feels like you're in a movie scene? That's exactly what happened on the bus as a solo mariachi got up in the middle and played some traditional Mexican music as I gazed out over the choppy hills of beige corn fields pocked with bunches of green cacti or other shrubs, leaning fence posts, and piles of brick crumbs from wall sections (abandoned efforts to build houses) being slovenly chewed up by time and a constricting budget. The city of Morelia was impressive. Not extraordinarily unique, but impressive nonetheless. For one thing, the trash cans on the street had garbage bags in them. Other than that, it's basically a big city with some historical significance and a cool center of town with lots of old buildings. There are plenty of cities like that in the world, and they're always fun to see. We tried the local delicacy: a cup filled with chopped fruit and onions, salt, cheese, chili, and filled about halfway with orange juice. It had the familiar appearance of fresh vomit, but tasted just the opposite. We checked out a free natural history museum in one of the city parks and marvelled at the jars filled with deformed fetuses. Our walking would have been completely aimless, which is of course fine, if Amanda hadn't wanted to stop in every church in town. I was planning to try my hand at Couchsurfing in Morelia but completely forgot, so we ended up paying more than we had hoped for a hostel that had run out of dorm beds for men. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise. We got to watch Bewitched AND Fun With Dick and Jane on our room's TV!
PATZCUARO
Patzcuaro is a neat little town just down the highway from Morelia. They had some old looking buildings as well, but the main draw seems to be the lake. Patzcuaro Lake is fairly big as far as lakes go, and extremely dirty as far as dirty things go. They're local treat is a plate or cup full of tiny little fish fried whole and covered with chili powder and lime (like everything else in Mexico). I didn't get to try any because I was told to not eat fish or pork for a week after getting tatted up due to some toxins in those particular meats. Anyway, in the lake are a few islands, all tiny, but mostly inhabited. The one Amanda and I went to looked more like a floating pile of houses than an island. Stores, houses, restaurants, and whatever else covered every square inch of ground except for the winding path that weaved between them. We made it to the top of the house-mound and back down just in time to head back to Morelia for our bus ride home. That bus ride wasn't horrible, but it didn't go by as quickly as the one there. We watched The Gospel and The Ringer in Spanish, and 10 or 15 minutes of some movie in English before arriving in San Miguel, where I ate some tacos from my taco spot and passed out.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
-Towns with colleges are generally cooler than towns without colleges.
-There is a "public notary" on nearly every block of Mexico.
-Everyone in Mexico who owns a store is an "artisan"
-Everyone gives the "ehh, kiiinnnda" look when asked if tattoos hurt. Obviously they hurt, they're just not the most painful things in the world. Furthermore, tattoos are only as big of a deal as you choose to make them.
-I have a better mom and aunt than anyone else in the world except for Tyler and Tim, who are both tied with me.
-After having a taste of my sweet life at home, I know I'll be ready to be back in Seattle when my trip is over. I miss you all a lot and am looking forward to my return, but I still have a lot of things to do here before I'm ready... like kick it with Rt.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
El Presidente Negro
This isn't Mexico related, but I'd like to congratulate everyone on a successful election day, complete with a Christine Gregoire come-from-behind victory (I don't know much about Gregoire but she doesn't seem that great), and a crushing defeat of McCain at the hands of a black guy. We watched the election coverage at Donna's house (she's the daycare founder). We showed up at around 6pm to make sure we saw the results of every state, then stuffed our faces with tostadas, guacamole, quesadillas, and banana bread for the next several hours. I don't have a whole lot to say about the evening, except that California should be embarrassed and McCain should never forgive himself for choosing Palin. McCain's speach didn't seem totally genuine, but nobody enjoys losing like that so I can't blame him. I tried to laugh off the John chants of his crowd in Arizona, but the site of such typical frat-boy-looking young republicans will never fail to annoy me. I admit I can be cynical, which is why I've always buried the concern in my brain that Obama would turn out to be a little bit of a hope monger, especially considering the sloppy seconds he's inhereting, but I was thoroughly impressed with one aspect of his speech: it was completely smile-less. He didn't show one iota of giddy excitement over his convincing win... he seemed sober, focused, and ready, if not stoic. Those speeches, like each of the few political speeches I've ever Chinewe water-tortured myself with, never say anything substantial, but his composure convinced me that he means business.
Most of the Mexicans I've talked to were aware of the election, but surprised to hear that I supported the black candidate. It would have been exciting to be in the US for such an historical election (even for somone who usually steers clear of everything political), but I supposed I'll never forget where I was on election day. Let's hope the next 4-8 years don't include an assassination date to remember, too.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
I'm keeping this one short.
-People here, walking on the sidewalk, walk on the left! Not a day goes by that I don't do the exuse-me dance with a Mexican person trying to pass my right side as I try to pass their left. Honestly... porque?
Most of the Mexicans I've talked to were aware of the election, but surprised to hear that I supported the black candidate. It would have been exciting to be in the US for such an historical election (even for somone who usually steers clear of everything political), but I supposed I'll never forget where I was on election day. Let's hope the next 4-8 years don't include an assassination date to remember, too.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
I'm keeping this one short.
-People here, walking on the sidewalk, walk on the left! Not a day goes by that I don't do the exuse-me dance with a Mexican person trying to pass my right side as I try to pass their left. Honestly... porque?
Monday, November 3, 2008
Dia de los Muertos
Dia de Muertos consumed my entire weekend.
The festivities begin on October 31st and contain an obvious Halloween influence. Kids Trick-or-Treat at houses or simply walk around with their hands out. Instead of saying "trick-or-treat," however, the door-to-doorers simply say "Halloween!" After exhausting our entire supply of two chocolate paletas, we headed to the corner tienda to buy the whole box of Kinder Eggs. They were gone in a flash, and instead of going for a re-up we decided to get on with the night. We had heard reliable rumors of a costume party at a bar called Mama Mia's but for that, as for the trick-or-treaters, we were unprepared. In a house with four women and one man, the logical option was to dress me up as a woman. Apparently, despite my wide frame, stubble, and hairy armpits, I made a convincing mujer... several people poked my arms and then my fake breasts (a bra stuffed haphazardly with washcloths) to see if either or both were real. One group of girls realized I was born male, but asked if I prefer men or women... sexually. Another guy went as far as to ask Nastja and Petra if I was hombre o mujer. I'll post the pictures when I get them from Amanda's camera and you can judge for yourselves. The prizes for the contest turned about to be huge... the second place winner got a trip for two to somewhere in Canada... and with the pathetically low costume turnout the odds were in my favor. Unfortunately places one, two, and three went to a group of friends dressed in elaborate Wizard of Oz costumes. I suppose they deserved it, but they could have at least invited me to Canada.
On Saturday we explored the center of town which was filled with colorful commemorative altars, of which I have muchas fotos. We spent a good chunk of the day searching out Catrina dolls; the female skeleton dolls with beautiful clothing and headdresses that some of you may have seen before. I never would have thought I could find a skeleton to be such an attractive piece of art, but I wanted to buy every single one I saw. Another tradition is to make borreguitos; figures of skulls, animals, Mexican foods, and anything else imaginable... all made out of a mixture of powdered sugar, lime, and egg whites. People placed these, along with pan de muertos (a sweet bread), Catrinas, and real food on altars as offerings for the dead. Luckily dead people have limited stomach space because the bees claimed most of the sacrificial rations. Later that night we attempted to rescue Michael from the date he won (in a dance contest) with some Mexican girl (winner of the female group) the Thursday before. The floozy didn't show up and he was left having dinner with Hidalo and a couple of her friends. He was happy about it, but I still maintain that they bring absolutely nothing to the table.
On Sunday, the official day, we went to the cemetery. It was easily my best cemetery experience ever. This is partially because the only times I've been in a cemetery for something other than a recent family death were late at night and absolutely frightening. The cemetery was packed. Every grave, tomb, urn-cubby was covered in flowers, pictures, and borreguitos. Mariachis played to some graves, people adorned in amazing tribal costumes picnicked on others, and a few gringos took pictures. There's even a section in the cemetery for white folk. As far as we could tell this was the only section with Americans, jews, and urns. There was an enormous variety of graves and tombs in the cemetery. Some had huge, white sculptures with windowed openings where flowers or other offerings could be placed. Others looked like someone dug a small hole, threw in some body parts, covered them with dirt last week, and pulled some branches off the nearest tree to make a cross on top. Still no grave went flowerless. There were quite a few people wielding shovels and pick-axes to plant bouquets, and kids ran to and from the fountain filling buckets of water for people for a peso or two. I had to consciously keep myself from displaying the somber expression that the American attitude toward death associates with cemeteries. The celebratory aspect of Dia de Muertos (and the fact that I'd never witnessed one before) is why I think it picks up Halloween by the witch hair and swiftly beats that ass.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
-Mexican guys, by American definition, are extremely disrespectful of women. I'd have to live here for a long time before I could get used to the whistles and cat calls.
-Speaking of whistling, every Mexican can whistle extremely loud. If I could have any souvenir, it would be that ability.
-The Mexican diet is full of extremes. The salsa is hot as sin, the sweets are pure sugar, and they dump salt on everything. It's no wonder Mexicans have lots of kidney problems, urinary tract infections, and weight issues. Luckily it's all optional, so I still can't get enough of the food.
-Michael knows every single English-speaking person in town.
-It's amazing that a city with so many Americans could assume so freely that gringos don't speak Spanish. At a restaurant yesterday, a woman came up and said she would be the translator for us. Only one person was eating, and she actually still translated "un pozole, nada mas" for the waitress. Since we said it in Spanish, the translation was more like an echo.
-Although I will be having a traditional Thanksgiving with Michael's family, the next holiday for the Mexicans is Christmas. They erected their 30-foot Christmas tree on Wednesday of last week and stores should be ready for Navidad any day now. I love it.
-I read Catcher in the Rye, which I may or may not have read at some point for school. I was thoroughly unimpressed. Obviously the writing style was on purpose, but the words and slang and dialogue were so repetetive that, if given the main plot points, any teenager could have written it. Of course, of course... it was some kind of breakthrough when it came out... "ahead of its time." Well it's not ahead of my time, and I wasn't alive for the time that it was ahead of, so if highschool English teachers still consider it a must-read, I think it's about time they get a new curriculum. Call me unsophisticated/unappreciative if you want, but I thought On The Road (with the same soul searching themes) was way better. On the other hand, The Hound of the Baskervilles (my first Sherlock Holmes book), is a timeless classic.
The festivities begin on October 31st and contain an obvious Halloween influence. Kids Trick-or-Treat at houses or simply walk around with their hands out. Instead of saying "trick-or-treat," however, the door-to-doorers simply say "Halloween!" After exhausting our entire supply of two chocolate paletas, we headed to the corner tienda to buy the whole box of Kinder Eggs. They were gone in a flash, and instead of going for a re-up we decided to get on with the night. We had heard reliable rumors of a costume party at a bar called Mama Mia's but for that, as for the trick-or-treaters, we were unprepared. In a house with four women and one man, the logical option was to dress me up as a woman. Apparently, despite my wide frame, stubble, and hairy armpits, I made a convincing mujer... several people poked my arms and then my fake breasts (a bra stuffed haphazardly with washcloths) to see if either or both were real. One group of girls realized I was born male, but asked if I prefer men or women... sexually. Another guy went as far as to ask Nastja and Petra if I was hombre o mujer. I'll post the pictures when I get them from Amanda's camera and you can judge for yourselves. The prizes for the contest turned about to be huge... the second place winner got a trip for two to somewhere in Canada... and with the pathetically low costume turnout the odds were in my favor. Unfortunately places one, two, and three went to a group of friends dressed in elaborate Wizard of Oz costumes. I suppose they deserved it, but they could have at least invited me to Canada.
On Saturday we explored the center of town which was filled with colorful commemorative altars, of which I have muchas fotos. We spent a good chunk of the day searching out Catrina dolls; the female skeleton dolls with beautiful clothing and headdresses that some of you may have seen before. I never would have thought I could find a skeleton to be such an attractive piece of art, but I wanted to buy every single one I saw. Another tradition is to make borreguitos; figures of skulls, animals, Mexican foods, and anything else imaginable... all made out of a mixture of powdered sugar, lime, and egg whites. People placed these, along with pan de muertos (a sweet bread), Catrinas, and real food on altars as offerings for the dead. Luckily dead people have limited stomach space because the bees claimed most of the sacrificial rations. Later that night we attempted to rescue Michael from the date he won (in a dance contest) with some Mexican girl (winner of the female group) the Thursday before. The floozy didn't show up and he was left having dinner with Hidalo and a couple of her friends. He was happy about it, but I still maintain that they bring absolutely nothing to the table.
On Sunday, the official day, we went to the cemetery. It was easily my best cemetery experience ever. This is partially because the only times I've been in a cemetery for something other than a recent family death were late at night and absolutely frightening. The cemetery was packed. Every grave, tomb, urn-cubby was covered in flowers, pictures, and borreguitos. Mariachis played to some graves, people adorned in amazing tribal costumes picnicked on others, and a few gringos took pictures. There's even a section in the cemetery for white folk. As far as we could tell this was the only section with Americans, jews, and urns. There was an enormous variety of graves and tombs in the cemetery. Some had huge, white sculptures with windowed openings where flowers or other offerings could be placed. Others looked like someone dug a small hole, threw in some body parts, covered them with dirt last week, and pulled some branches off the nearest tree to make a cross on top. Still no grave went flowerless. There were quite a few people wielding shovels and pick-axes to plant bouquets, and kids ran to and from the fountain filling buckets of water for people for a peso or two. I had to consciously keep myself from displaying the somber expression that the American attitude toward death associates with cemeteries. The celebratory aspect of Dia de Muertos (and the fact that I'd never witnessed one before) is why I think it picks up Halloween by the witch hair and swiftly beats that ass.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
-Mexican guys, by American definition, are extremely disrespectful of women. I'd have to live here for a long time before I could get used to the whistles and cat calls.
-Speaking of whistling, every Mexican can whistle extremely loud. If I could have any souvenir, it would be that ability.
-The Mexican diet is full of extremes. The salsa is hot as sin, the sweets are pure sugar, and they dump salt on everything. It's no wonder Mexicans have lots of kidney problems, urinary tract infections, and weight issues. Luckily it's all optional, so I still can't get enough of the food.
-Michael knows every single English-speaking person in town.
-It's amazing that a city with so many Americans could assume so freely that gringos don't speak Spanish. At a restaurant yesterday, a woman came up and said she would be the translator for us. Only one person was eating, and she actually still translated "un pozole, nada mas" for the waitress. Since we said it in Spanish, the translation was more like an echo.
-Although I will be having a traditional Thanksgiving with Michael's family, the next holiday for the Mexicans is Christmas. They erected their 30-foot Christmas tree on Wednesday of last week and stores should be ready for Navidad any day now. I love it.
-I read Catcher in the Rye, which I may or may not have read at some point for school. I was thoroughly unimpressed. Obviously the writing style was on purpose, but the words and slang and dialogue were so repetetive that, if given the main plot points, any teenager could have written it. Of course, of course... it was some kind of breakthrough when it came out... "ahead of its time." Well it's not ahead of my time, and I wasn't alive for the time that it was ahead of, so if highschool English teachers still consider it a must-read, I think it's about time they get a new curriculum. Call me unsophisticated/unappreciative if you want, but I thought On The Road (with the same soul searching themes) was way better. On the other hand, The Hound of the Baskervilles (my first Sherlock Holmes book), is a timeless classic.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Mi Vieja, Atotonilco, y Los Vampiros (Now edited w/ correct spelling of Suzie)
Mark me down for another successful weekend. Unfortunately, we didn't end up going to Mexico City for the Chivas game. Apparently I fell for the legendary "Mexican Lie." Mexican people, instead of telling the truth, prefer to tell you what they think you want to hear. This is, of course, stupid. The recipient of the lie ends up disappointed either way, but initial honesty at least allows said recipient to make other plans. Anyway something else came up so it was all gravy.
MI VIEJA y ATOTONILCO
As promised, I spent Saturday with Suzie. First she took me to Alma, a retirement home, where once a month they have a giant garage sale for all of their donated items. They had some cool art and decent clothes, but all I got were books... 17 of them I think. After that we went to Atotonilco, a famous church 10 or 15 minutes outside of town. On the way there she told me about life in Austin, Texas. It sounds pretty great. They call Austin "the blueberry in the tomato soup" because of its political preference. Anyway, every square inch of the walls and ceiling at Atotonilco is covered with paintings. They also have some impressive gold and silver art as well as some statues that they dress in different clothing every week or so... just like that sculpture in Fremont, only less fun. At certain times of the year people make pilgrimages to Atotonilco, commonly flogging themselves en route. Suzie cursed organized religion almost the entire time and we both had a good laugh over it. After indulging in a couple ice cream bars we checked out the vendors outside so Suzie could purchase her obligatory kitch. She wouldn't let me leave without a few pieces myself so she bought me two tiny little keychains depicting Jesus or saints or something looking like they came straight out of a South Park episodes. One of the keychains has a poorly translated sentence on the back (courtesy of the Chinese manufacturer) that says to not set the keychain down in the vicinity of thieves. I'll try.
After that we went to Suzie's house so I could borrow the ATV. Sadly there wasn't as much gas as we all thought left in the tank so I only road around for a couple hours. Aside from the fact that quatrimotos are a blast to ride, it was a really good experience. I was able to see parts of town I hadn't seen before and might not have otherwise seen at all. I got a jacket-full of dust, a face-full of bugs, and an Alex-full of enjoyment.
All the roomies were off in Guadalajara so after returning the quad I hung out at Suzie and Randy's for a few hours while they packed. Back at Atotonilco Suzie had inquired about the name of one of my keychain saints who looks more like an ancient samurai master, and while I was gone she looked him up and stumbled across some Catholic Online website that listed every saint ever. They also had some links to political videos... anti-Obama, pro-McCain, pro-life. She concluded that the only people who would ever stumble across those videos are "dumb fucks" like the two of us. As she and her husband got to packing I settled into a comfortable seat with the computer on my lap and was treated to beer and freshly baked cookies. She also sent me home with a full bottle of tequila and an unopened jar of extra crunchy peanut butter. I'm going to miss Suzie.
LOS VAMPIROS
On Friday night Michael, Ozvanny, Poppy and I stayed out until an ungodly hour of the morning.. the norm in Mexico despite the prevalence of god-fearing Christians. The night would not have been complete with out a Miguelito (Michael's Mexiname) dance exhibition. At a bar called Mama Mia's, while Michael was putting on a show, some tall Dutch-looking fellow decided to step up. He and Michael "battled" back and forth (flailed) for a good 20 minutes while onlookers cheered and laughed. One audience member, a gothy-looking overweight woman who I took for a Mexican at the time, jumped into the center of the circle during one song and gyrated ferociously. We didn't think much of it at the time... noted that she was probably 40 years old and drunk, commented on the impressive tattoo on her back, and gawked at the hypnotizing Jello-like jigglation of the fleshy parts protruding from her constrictive black tanktop. The dance contest continued, Michael was the unanimous favorite, and we moved on. Saturday night, after Suzie's, we all met at a sports bar, Manolo's, to watch the Ohio State-Penn State football game. Michael and Poppy arrived first and when I showed up they were shooting the shit with a group of Americans that included the owner of Manolo's, the crazy dancing woman, and the crazy dancing woman's friend. The crazy dancing woman has quite a life story... though none of it came as a shock. Her name is Hidalo... or something... and she grew up on a boat somewhere near Miami. We speculated that her name maybe comes from the rising and falling tide (High-to-low) but we didn't ask. Now she lives off in the country side in a small group of four or five self-sufficient houses. They collect (most of) their own electricity through solar panels, water from rain, and they compost all their sewage. She's the classic free-spirit, wild-living, boisterous neo-hippie type who is so formulaic in that sense that you can more or less predict everything she's going to say. Things like "I just want to live the way I want to live," and "those people just don't know how to live, man." At any rate, she invited us to her weekly lunch party the following day, Sunday. I was visibly uninterested until she mentioned garlic mashed potatoes... then it was on. She gave us some really sketchy directions to her secluded ranch community and we realized that in all likelihood, she and her friends were all vampires inviting us to an eating party. Like an orgy where group sex is subsituted for group human blood chugging. All signs pointed to them being vampires. Nothing on the menu (stew, mashed potatoes, bread, key lime pie) required a knife (stake), and she clearly only mentioned garlic mashed potatoes to throw us off.
We finally arrived, nervously, at around 4pm and were relieved to see them all sitting out in the sunlight without melting. Her friends were equally predictable... a couple were adorned in full-body tie-dye, and every single one was either already stoned or just absent minded. They were the type who, when asked what they do, tell you all the stuff they enjoy doing with a spacy smile on their face like life is just so great to them. They list off 10-15 earth/spirit-friendly hobbies that they probably aren't any good at, and leave you wanting to respond with something along the lines of "so what you're saying is you don't do jack shit." They would also constantly say something cryptic/idiotic and give each other those inside joke smiles that might usually make me feel left out, but in this case just made me feel thankful for my intelligence. One woman asked me if a ladybug had landed on me recently. I said that I didn't think so, and another woman (who said she has survived three strokes which is why she still doesn't know any Spanish after living here for four years) asked me if I know what a ladybug is. It was a humorous experience that I don't regret for a second. The food turned out to be amazing. Instead of stew (which we figured was actually some guy named Stu, the main course), we had salmon, garlic mashed potatoes that were muddy with cream, carmelized carrots, broccoli, garlic bread, and blackberry cheesecake and key lime pie for dessert. Hidalo's house and property were extremely cool and the company was pleasant enough. My favorite moment came when Ben, an Israeli-born American who sells solar energy systems in San Miguel, brought up the election and upon learning of Michael's Texan origins, called him a "lost fucking cause."
Hasta Luego
MI VIEJA y ATOTONILCO
As promised, I spent Saturday with Suzie. First she took me to Alma, a retirement home, where once a month they have a giant garage sale for all of their donated items. They had some cool art and decent clothes, but all I got were books... 17 of them I think. After that we went to Atotonilco, a famous church 10 or 15 minutes outside of town. On the way there she told me about life in Austin, Texas. It sounds pretty great. They call Austin "the blueberry in the tomato soup" because of its political preference. Anyway, every square inch of the walls and ceiling at Atotonilco is covered with paintings. They also have some impressive gold and silver art as well as some statues that they dress in different clothing every week or so... just like that sculpture in Fremont, only less fun. At certain times of the year people make pilgrimages to Atotonilco, commonly flogging themselves en route. Suzie cursed organized religion almost the entire time and we both had a good laugh over it. After indulging in a couple ice cream bars we checked out the vendors outside so Suzie could purchase her obligatory kitch. She wouldn't let me leave without a few pieces myself so she bought me two tiny little keychains depicting Jesus or saints or something looking like they came straight out of a South Park episodes. One of the keychains has a poorly translated sentence on the back (courtesy of the Chinese manufacturer) that says to not set the keychain down in the vicinity of thieves. I'll try.
After that we went to Suzie's house so I could borrow the ATV. Sadly there wasn't as much gas as we all thought left in the tank so I only road around for a couple hours. Aside from the fact that quatrimotos are a blast to ride, it was a really good experience. I was able to see parts of town I hadn't seen before and might not have otherwise seen at all. I got a jacket-full of dust, a face-full of bugs, and an Alex-full of enjoyment.
All the roomies were off in Guadalajara so after returning the quad I hung out at Suzie and Randy's for a few hours while they packed. Back at Atotonilco Suzie had inquired about the name of one of my keychain saints who looks more like an ancient samurai master, and while I was gone she looked him up and stumbled across some Catholic Online website that listed every saint ever. They also had some links to political videos... anti-Obama, pro-McCain, pro-life. She concluded that the only people who would ever stumble across those videos are "dumb fucks" like the two of us. As she and her husband got to packing I settled into a comfortable seat with the computer on my lap and was treated to beer and freshly baked cookies. She also sent me home with a full bottle of tequila and an unopened jar of extra crunchy peanut butter. I'm going to miss Suzie.
LOS VAMPIROS
On Friday night Michael, Ozvanny, Poppy and I stayed out until an ungodly hour of the morning.. the norm in Mexico despite the prevalence of god-fearing Christians. The night would not have been complete with out a Miguelito (Michael's Mexiname) dance exhibition. At a bar called Mama Mia's, while Michael was putting on a show, some tall Dutch-looking fellow decided to step up. He and Michael "battled" back and forth (flailed) for a good 20 minutes while onlookers cheered and laughed. One audience member, a gothy-looking overweight woman who I took for a Mexican at the time, jumped into the center of the circle during one song and gyrated ferociously. We didn't think much of it at the time... noted that she was probably 40 years old and drunk, commented on the impressive tattoo on her back, and gawked at the hypnotizing Jello-like jigglation of the fleshy parts protruding from her constrictive black tanktop. The dance contest continued, Michael was the unanimous favorite, and we moved on. Saturday night, after Suzie's, we all met at a sports bar, Manolo's, to watch the Ohio State-Penn State football game. Michael and Poppy arrived first and when I showed up they were shooting the shit with a group of Americans that included the owner of Manolo's, the crazy dancing woman, and the crazy dancing woman's friend. The crazy dancing woman has quite a life story... though none of it came as a shock. Her name is Hidalo... or something... and she grew up on a boat somewhere near Miami. We speculated that her name maybe comes from the rising and falling tide (High-to-low) but we didn't ask. Now she lives off in the country side in a small group of four or five self-sufficient houses. They collect (most of) their own electricity through solar panels, water from rain, and they compost all their sewage. She's the classic free-spirit, wild-living, boisterous neo-hippie type who is so formulaic in that sense that you can more or less predict everything she's going to say. Things like "I just want to live the way I want to live," and "those people just don't know how to live, man." At any rate, she invited us to her weekly lunch party the following day, Sunday. I was visibly uninterested until she mentioned garlic mashed potatoes... then it was on. She gave us some really sketchy directions to her secluded ranch community and we realized that in all likelihood, she and her friends were all vampires inviting us to an eating party. Like an orgy where group sex is subsituted for group human blood chugging. All signs pointed to them being vampires. Nothing on the menu (stew, mashed potatoes, bread, key lime pie) required a knife (stake), and she clearly only mentioned garlic mashed potatoes to throw us off.
We finally arrived, nervously, at around 4pm and were relieved to see them all sitting out in the sunlight without melting. Her friends were equally predictable... a couple were adorned in full-body tie-dye, and every single one was either already stoned or just absent minded. They were the type who, when asked what they do, tell you all the stuff they enjoy doing with a spacy smile on their face like life is just so great to them. They list off 10-15 earth/spirit-friendly hobbies that they probably aren't any good at, and leave you wanting to respond with something along the lines of "so what you're saying is you don't do jack shit." They would also constantly say something cryptic/idiotic and give each other those inside joke smiles that might usually make me feel left out, but in this case just made me feel thankful for my intelligence. One woman asked me if a ladybug had landed on me recently. I said that I didn't think so, and another woman (who said she has survived three strokes which is why she still doesn't know any Spanish after living here for four years) asked me if I know what a ladybug is. It was a humorous experience that I don't regret for a second. The food turned out to be amazing. Instead of stew (which we figured was actually some guy named Stu, the main course), we had salmon, garlic mashed potatoes that were muddy with cream, carmelized carrots, broccoli, garlic bread, and blackberry cheesecake and key lime pie for dessert. Hidalo's house and property were extremely cool and the company was pleasant enough. My favorite moment came when Ben, an Israeli-born American who sells solar energy systems in San Miguel, brought up the election and upon learning of Michael's Texan origins, called him a "lost fucking cause."
Hasta Luego
Thursday, October 23, 2008
The Trampoline Store
This actually happened last Thursday, but amidst all the excitement over the weekend I forgot to write about it. There's a supermarket here, Kike's, that has a giant trampoline outside of it. Some of you might already be familiar with my affinity for jumping on/off anything bouncy. If you weren't, now you are. You can imagine, then, how often I'd like to treat myself to a bounce or two on Kike's tramp. Unfortunately, I'm not completely shameless, and I've only been using it if I happen to pass by there at night after the store is closed. This particular time I made plans with Nastja and Petra to go for a jump. It was my first extended jump. Because it sits there 24/7 open to anyone who might want to use it (namely little kids and me), it's not in great shape, but it's still a trampoline and beggars can't be choosers. Actually it's quite dangerous. The blue tarp-like cover for the springs is connected at only one point, so the rest is strewn across the black tramp surface. There are many gaps along the circumfrence where springs have broken over the years, some with over two feet of springless space. Twice, while all three of us were jumping simultaneously, I decided to land butt-first in the center of the tramp, at which point I connected with the ground below as it sagged under our weight. I was a little sore the next day, but no bruises. When Nastja and I had had enough, we threatened to leave Petra alone, who was bluffing to spend the night sleeping on the tramp. Instead of leaving, the two of us started to walk around the block to commence a surprise attack from behind. Around the second corner, however, we saw a pickup truck facing us from the end of the block with the high beams on. Standing the back were two men waving at something. Then the truck drove forward. We were half-rattled, half messing around, and sprinted back around the corner to hide behind some bushes. A few seconds later the truck rolled by at walking speed and we saw that the two men in the back were wearing full face masks looking around. After they passed we fetched Petra and booked it home. Of course they could have just been city workers fixing an electrical line or something, but it still seems a little sketchy.
MI VIEJA
If the new 58 year old volunteer is anything like the current 58 year old volunteer, Suzy, we are going to have a hell of a time the next two weeks. I don't know if I've mentioned Suzy before, but she lives here part time and volunteers daily at the daycare for a couple hours. She's from Austin, Texas, loves tequila, and has a house full of awesome Mexican trinkets. Last night she had us younger volunteers over to her house where her husband cooked a delicious meal, she taught us to play dominoes, and let me tool around on her ATV for a few minutes. As a mother herself, she knew how to take care of me: overfeed me and still send me home with leftovers. She grew up catholic and now despises organized religion. She also hates most of the older American women in this town, which only makes her cooler. She can hold her tongue but chooses to speak candidly because she knows it's funnier (i.e. denouncing religion at the table in front of the daycare founder who also teaches advanced theology online, then giving me a nudge, laughing, and saying she can't help it) and loves black comedians. She actually kind of reminds me of Gram... maybe the rest of the Wilmas, too... only a little more southern. Anyway, as strange as it may sound, on Saturday I'll be spending the day with her. The three girls are going to Guadalajara for the weekend and I'm staying so I can go to the soccer game in Mexico City on Sunday, leaving Saturday open. Our plan is to go to this enormous once-a-month sale at an old folks home, then check out some impressive church, then the afternoon will be mine to take the ATV wherever I want. It should be an excellent weekend.
Other updates:
I finally approached the doctors here about doing some more work for them. They were enthusiastic enough. One of them, Samuel, talked to me for an hour or so about high blood pressure, Mexican health problems, and the difference between school in Mexico and school in the States. Then he taught me how to take blood pressure, emphasized the importance of practice, and let me take the blood pressure of the next patient who came in. This should lead to more such lessons and increased time in the clinic.
Paolina, the little girl who used to scream at the mere site of me, is now my friend. As promised, because she warmed up to me I didn't trash the pictures of her and they're now up on my Photobucket page. I also organized everything a little bit so you can pick and choose what you want to look at pictures of. Specific trips, festivities (parades, fairs, etc.), daycare, and general life in San Miguel.
Hasta lunes
MI VIEJA
If the new 58 year old volunteer is anything like the current 58 year old volunteer, Suzy, we are going to have a hell of a time the next two weeks. I don't know if I've mentioned Suzy before, but she lives here part time and volunteers daily at the daycare for a couple hours. She's from Austin, Texas, loves tequila, and has a house full of awesome Mexican trinkets. Last night she had us younger volunteers over to her house where her husband cooked a delicious meal, she taught us to play dominoes, and let me tool around on her ATV for a few minutes. As a mother herself, she knew how to take care of me: overfeed me and still send me home with leftovers. She grew up catholic and now despises organized religion. She also hates most of the older American women in this town, which only makes her cooler. She can hold her tongue but chooses to speak candidly because she knows it's funnier (i.e. denouncing religion at the table in front of the daycare founder who also teaches advanced theology online, then giving me a nudge, laughing, and saying she can't help it) and loves black comedians. She actually kind of reminds me of Gram... maybe the rest of the Wilmas, too... only a little more southern. Anyway, as strange as it may sound, on Saturday I'll be spending the day with her. The three girls are going to Guadalajara for the weekend and I'm staying so I can go to the soccer game in Mexico City on Sunday, leaving Saturday open. Our plan is to go to this enormous once-a-month sale at an old folks home, then check out some impressive church, then the afternoon will be mine to take the ATV wherever I want. It should be an excellent weekend.
Other updates:
I finally approached the doctors here about doing some more work for them. They were enthusiastic enough. One of them, Samuel, talked to me for an hour or so about high blood pressure, Mexican health problems, and the difference between school in Mexico and school in the States. Then he taught me how to take blood pressure, emphasized the importance of practice, and let me take the blood pressure of the next patient who came in. This should lead to more such lessons and increased time in the clinic.
Paolina, the little girl who used to scream at the mere site of me, is now my friend. As promised, because she warmed up to me I didn't trash the pictures of her and they're now up on my Photobucket page. I also organized everything a little bit so you can pick and choose what you want to look at pictures of. Specific trips, festivities (parades, fairs, etc.), daycare, and general life in San Miguel.
Hasta lunes
Monday, October 20, 2008
Pyramids
I had a full weekend.
GUANAJUATO
Amanda and I went to Guanajuato, a city nearby that has been holding an art festival dedicated to Cervantes for the last couple weeks. We only went for the day so we missed a lot of the music performances that were held in the evening, but we saw a couple street entertainers and a Mexican reggae band. If you asked me, I'd say the band was decent. If you asked the dreadlocked, hemp-wearing, staff-wielding stoner dancing and yelling in the back of the crowd, they were otherworldly. The city itself was awesome. There is no real center of town, which means the people (which are especially numerous during the festival) were absolutely everywhere. There are several gardens and plazas outside of museums that provide good staging areas for venders and performers, but those who couldn't claim those prime locations simply took over the sidewalks and roads. In terms of the buildings and houses Guanajuato is easily the most colorful city I've ever seen. Greens, yellows, reds, oranges, blues, all right next to each other or practically stacked on top of each other on the steep hillsides. They also have a big university, which means more young people romping around. Apparently they have a fairly prestigious medical school... I wonder if that reputation extends to the nursing program...
We also went to see el Cristo Rey (King Jesus... Amanda's idea), a big Jesus statue on the top of a hill. We had heard the bus ride was 20 minutes. After being on the bus for an hour Amanda worried that we missed the stop. Another 20 minutes later, we arrived. There was a service going on in the chapel Jesus was standing on and the entire hilltop was packed with high school groups and families. Having been to the enormous Jesus in Rio de Janeiro, I was less than impressed... especially considering the four hours the trip took. However I have to admit... even as a gentile... there is something kinda cool about giant Jesi.
THE PYRAMIDS
This was the highlight of el fin de semana. We had been hearing about these recently excavated pyramids for a few weeks so we were excited to finally be going. Not much is known about the history of the pyramids, or at least not being shared with the public yet. They suspect they were constructed by either the Chichimecas or Olmecas, but I couldn't get any concrete answers. The route there wasn't quite as I expected. I assumed a well-known archaeological site would be a major tourist destination, drawing enough money to build roads and a parking lot. Of course I was expecting too much. And so the adventure began. We pulled off the freeway onto an unmarked, narrow dirt road. We had to pass through two or three gates that appeared to be property markers. This involved one passenger jumping out, inspecting the gates for locks, and opening them if there were no locks. Eventually, one of the gates was unpassable, so we parked outside of it. Amanda, Miguel, and I were joined by Miguel's son, Josue; the two guides from the first hike, Ricardo and Fortino; Pati, who also hiked Los Picachos with us; and Ricardo's daughter and her boyfriend. While we stood outside the cars contemplating our path, Miguel asked Ricardo if he brought his pistol. He did. The pyramids are surrounded on all sides by canyons, and typical defense measure, so we had to explore for a while looking for a way across. We found one, and we reached the site in just over an hour. I noticed that Ricardo, Miguel, and Fortino all kept looking off to the left just above a tiny dammed lake, but I couldn't figure out why until I heard Miguel say something about the area being a federal reserve. As we neared the pyramids, Fortino told us to be quiet, and said we'd go up just over the last hill to take pictures. This sounded lame to me, as I had imagined climbing the ancient ruins. Momentarily, when we saw that the entire dig site was surrounded by barbed wire fencing, I worried my dream would be crushed. Luckily Mexican laws don't intimidate everyone. I followed the lead of Fortino, Miguel, and Josue, and hopped the fence. Admittedly I was nervous as we tiptoed through the brush, guerilla-style, pausing every 20 or 30 feet to look around and listen for any activity from, I suppose, some federal guards? We came up on a camp with a tarp shelter, some cooking supplies, and an outdoor stove. Somehow we concluded that nobody was around, so we broke from there to the pyramid. We ran around frantically climbing the steps, running across the walled field, and taking as many pictures as possible. We spent maybe 20 minutes enjoying the adrenaline-infused glimpse into ancient history, but the others were waiting for us so we had to go. Walking toward what will someday be the public entrance to the reserve we noticed a small building with bathrooms, what looks to be a future taco stand, and a trailer where a guard probably stays... except for Sundays I guess. We conquered some more barbed wire on the way out, and seconds after we had all cleared it we heard a popping sound. It sounded close, but not that loud, like it came from just inside the fence. It sounded to me like a smaller firecracker, but I heard Florentino say something about a 22. He could have been talking about anything, and there were no more bangs, so we shrugged it off. Only after leaving did we see the sign that warned trespassers of a fine and up to 10 years in jail.
Finally, at around noon, we ventured off to find our lunch spot. This, not surprisingly, was also somewhat of an ordeal, but entirely worth it. We passed through a few farms and by some solitary houses (more gates), and waited while Miguel and Florentino stole part of our lunch from somebody's corn field and put it in my backpack, for some reason. We settled on a scenic, rocky river bank as our dining room. Like at Los Picachos, everyone brought some comestible to share. I was prepared this time, armed with a bottle of tequila. The peaceful, tranquil riverbed was the location for my scariest moment. After finishing my corn, I was standing near the fire spacing out, and realized I was getting dizzy. I tried to look up to shake it off, but my vision started closing in from all sides like Hal was closing the pod bay doors on my eyes. Before I felt like I was going to pass out I made myself sit down on some uncomfortable fallen tree branches. I regained my vision and my head stopped spinning, but I was a dazed for a little while trying to figure out what just happened. Probably some combination of dehydration, altitude, hunger, and maybe standing in the smoke trail of the fire for too long (which is practically unavoidable with these looks). Anyway I had no further incidents and decided I better gorge myself in case hunger was the cause. I ate a disgusting amount of food and felt like tossing my cookies (which I had seven of) until I woke up this morning.
Coming soon:
We have a new volunteer arriving this Friday. Her name is Jan, she's from Wisconsin, and she is 58 years old. I don't know what she's expecting, but the only private room left in the volunteer house smells like crap because it leads to the small patio where we keep the garbage. I don't expect her to last too long in the house, but she's only scheduled to be here for a week or two anyway.
This Sunday is some important soccer game between Chivas and América in Mexico City, and I'm planning on going with Miguel and Donna, so that should be exciting.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
- Slovenians make the most delicious treat. Thin apple slices (across the diameter, shaped like donuts after the core is removed), dipped in flour, then egg, deep fried, and covered in powdered sugar or cinnamon and sugar. They're like bite-sized apple pies. Delectable.
- I stand corrected about the VW Bug observation. The most popular vehicle here is the ATV... then the VW Bug.
- The Mexicans I hike with never like to retrace their steps. I guess they adhere to the John Horn philosophy that taking different routes as often as possible exercises the brain.
- Stu has bought his ticket to Mexico for November 28th. Anyone else smart enough to join us for two weeks of sheer elation should contact me about it relatively soon. I know some of you will need a vacation.
- Mexicans don't really eat dinner. They eat breakfast, a big lunch between 2 and 4 in the afternoon, then just have a small snack later on. I can get down with the big lunch, but skipping dinner is one practice this gringo won't be adopting while in Mexico.
GUANAJUATO
Amanda and I went to Guanajuato, a city nearby that has been holding an art festival dedicated to Cervantes for the last couple weeks. We only went for the day so we missed a lot of the music performances that were held in the evening, but we saw a couple street entertainers and a Mexican reggae band. If you asked me, I'd say the band was decent. If you asked the dreadlocked, hemp-wearing, staff-wielding stoner dancing and yelling in the back of the crowd, they were otherworldly. The city itself was awesome. There is no real center of town, which means the people (which are especially numerous during the festival) were absolutely everywhere. There are several gardens and plazas outside of museums that provide good staging areas for venders and performers, but those who couldn't claim those prime locations simply took over the sidewalks and roads. In terms of the buildings and houses Guanajuato is easily the most colorful city I've ever seen. Greens, yellows, reds, oranges, blues, all right next to each other or practically stacked on top of each other on the steep hillsides. They also have a big university, which means more young people romping around. Apparently they have a fairly prestigious medical school... I wonder if that reputation extends to the nursing program...
We also went to see el Cristo Rey (King Jesus... Amanda's idea), a big Jesus statue on the top of a hill. We had heard the bus ride was 20 minutes. After being on the bus for an hour Amanda worried that we missed the stop. Another 20 minutes later, we arrived. There was a service going on in the chapel Jesus was standing on and the entire hilltop was packed with high school groups and families. Having been to the enormous Jesus in Rio de Janeiro, I was less than impressed... especially considering the four hours the trip took. However I have to admit... even as a gentile... there is something kinda cool about giant Jesi.
THE PYRAMIDS
This was the highlight of el fin de semana. We had been hearing about these recently excavated pyramids for a few weeks so we were excited to finally be going. Not much is known about the history of the pyramids, or at least not being shared with the public yet. They suspect they were constructed by either the Chichimecas or Olmecas, but I couldn't get any concrete answers. The route there wasn't quite as I expected. I assumed a well-known archaeological site would be a major tourist destination, drawing enough money to build roads and a parking lot. Of course I was expecting too much. And so the adventure began. We pulled off the freeway onto an unmarked, narrow dirt road. We had to pass through two or three gates that appeared to be property markers. This involved one passenger jumping out, inspecting the gates for locks, and opening them if there were no locks. Eventually, one of the gates was unpassable, so we parked outside of it. Amanda, Miguel, and I were joined by Miguel's son, Josue; the two guides from the first hike, Ricardo and Fortino; Pati, who also hiked Los Picachos with us; and Ricardo's daughter and her boyfriend. While we stood outside the cars contemplating our path, Miguel asked Ricardo if he brought his pistol. He did. The pyramids are surrounded on all sides by canyons, and typical defense measure, so we had to explore for a while looking for a way across. We found one, and we reached the site in just over an hour. I noticed that Ricardo, Miguel, and Fortino all kept looking off to the left just above a tiny dammed lake, but I couldn't figure out why until I heard Miguel say something about the area being a federal reserve. As we neared the pyramids, Fortino told us to be quiet, and said we'd go up just over the last hill to take pictures. This sounded lame to me, as I had imagined climbing the ancient ruins. Momentarily, when we saw that the entire dig site was surrounded by barbed wire fencing, I worried my dream would be crushed. Luckily Mexican laws don't intimidate everyone. I followed the lead of Fortino, Miguel, and Josue, and hopped the fence. Admittedly I was nervous as we tiptoed through the brush, guerilla-style, pausing every 20 or 30 feet to look around and listen for any activity from, I suppose, some federal guards? We came up on a camp with a tarp shelter, some cooking supplies, and an outdoor stove. Somehow we concluded that nobody was around, so we broke from there to the pyramid. We ran around frantically climbing the steps, running across the walled field, and taking as many pictures as possible. We spent maybe 20 minutes enjoying the adrenaline-infused glimpse into ancient history, but the others were waiting for us so we had to go. Walking toward what will someday be the public entrance to the reserve we noticed a small building with bathrooms, what looks to be a future taco stand, and a trailer where a guard probably stays... except for Sundays I guess. We conquered some more barbed wire on the way out, and seconds after we had all cleared it we heard a popping sound. It sounded close, but not that loud, like it came from just inside the fence. It sounded to me like a smaller firecracker, but I heard Florentino say something about a 22. He could have been talking about anything, and there were no more bangs, so we shrugged it off. Only after leaving did we see the sign that warned trespassers of a fine and up to 10 years in jail.
Finally, at around noon, we ventured off to find our lunch spot. This, not surprisingly, was also somewhat of an ordeal, but entirely worth it. We passed through a few farms and by some solitary houses (more gates), and waited while Miguel and Florentino stole part of our lunch from somebody's corn field and put it in my backpack, for some reason. We settled on a scenic, rocky river bank as our dining room. Like at Los Picachos, everyone brought some comestible to share. I was prepared this time, armed with a bottle of tequila. The peaceful, tranquil riverbed was the location for my scariest moment. After finishing my corn, I was standing near the fire spacing out, and realized I was getting dizzy. I tried to look up to shake it off, but my vision started closing in from all sides like Hal was closing the pod bay doors on my eyes. Before I felt like I was going to pass out I made myself sit down on some uncomfortable fallen tree branches. I regained my vision and my head stopped spinning, but I was a dazed for a little while trying to figure out what just happened. Probably some combination of dehydration, altitude, hunger, and maybe standing in the smoke trail of the fire for too long (which is practically unavoidable with these looks). Anyway I had no further incidents and decided I better gorge myself in case hunger was the cause. I ate a disgusting amount of food and felt like tossing my cookies (which I had seven of) until I woke up this morning.
Coming soon:
We have a new volunteer arriving this Friday. Her name is Jan, she's from Wisconsin, and she is 58 years old. I don't know what she's expecting, but the only private room left in the volunteer house smells like crap because it leads to the small patio where we keep the garbage. I don't expect her to last too long in the house, but she's only scheduled to be here for a week or two anyway.
This Sunday is some important soccer game between Chivas and América in Mexico City, and I'm planning on going with Miguel and Donna, so that should be exciting.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
- Slovenians make the most delicious treat. Thin apple slices (across the diameter, shaped like donuts after the core is removed), dipped in flour, then egg, deep fried, and covered in powdered sugar or cinnamon and sugar. They're like bite-sized apple pies. Delectable.
- I stand corrected about the VW Bug observation. The most popular vehicle here is the ATV... then the VW Bug.
- The Mexicans I hike with never like to retrace their steps. I guess they adhere to the John Horn philosophy that taking different routes as often as possible exercises the brain.
- Stu has bought his ticket to Mexico for November 28th. Anyone else smart enough to join us for two weeks of sheer elation should contact me about it relatively soon. I know some of you will need a vacation.
- Mexicans don't really eat dinner. They eat breakfast, a big lunch between 2 and 4 in the afternoon, then just have a small snack later on. I can get down with the big lunch, but skipping dinner is one practice this gringo won't be adopting while in Mexico.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Houseguests
First thing's first. What is Montezuma's problem? Why is he so vengeful? I don't recall meeting him ever, or even seeing him on the street from afar. But apparently we must have crossed paths at some point because he got pissed at me. What an unreasonable jerk. Anyway I went all Double Chee on the Pepto and now we're on good terms again. I don't know why that would make him so happy... strange guy.
It's alright, though. At least I'm finally getting some color... red. Inexplicably, at an altitude 6,000 feet higher than Seattle, and a latitude thousands of miles south, in a town that as far as I can tell sees the sun 364.25 days a year (on average)... I have managed to get sunburned. Ra and Montezuma must have been friends with one of the fruit flies I killed or something, because I'm pretty sure they're both out to get me. Unfortunately for those putos I have my buddies Sunscreen and Pepto on my squad, and that makes three against two.
Short book report: I liked Life of Pi a lot. I'm reading Travels now, by Michael Crichton. I liked it at first but now it's starting to annoy me. I could write for a while about why, but that would be a waste of a blog. I should reiterate that reading anything but this blog is for nerds.
THE NEWBS
The two new Slovenian volunteers are Petra, 25, and Nastja, 24. Petra is a thesis paper away from earning her Masters in Architecture, and Nastja already has her degree in Translation/Interpretation. Ironically, Petra's English is far superior. I think she might is gooder at English than me be. They are both really tall, impressed with how much I eat, and have really good attidudes about traveling and working in the daycare (which Nastja keeps calling an orphanage). They'll be here until November 10th, so I should have some more adventures to share soon enough.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
Because I like the name so much, I've decided to make this a recurring section of my blog.
- VW Bugs may be the most popular car in this city. There is easily at least one per block.
- Americans here act like they're part of some elite gringo club. They pick you out if they think you're American and say hello in English on the street. I don't know you anymore than I know any of these Mexicans, so stop assuming I think it's cool that we're both white. One lone, drunk American at a bar on Saturday was watching us for a while, then finally approached and said "Are y'all Amurricans?" Annoyed, I said that the white ones among us were, then rewarded him with a few minutes of conversation after he said he loved Seattle. He's a kid from Dallas working at a law firm in Mexico City translating documents. He said he'd been dying to talk with some other Americans... good thing you took a job in Mexico, hombre. He introduced himself to Miguel as Frank aka Francisco, but when we left he told me his name is Cart...
- I don't know if it's evident in the Blah Blah Blog, but as my Spanish (kind of) improves, my English is getting worse. I regularly draw blanks as I talk to Donna (the founder) or the other volunteers when trying to think of simple words. Part of it might be that I also dumb things down for the German/Slovenian/even British volunteers to make sure they understand me.
- I sat at Parque Benito Juarez (constructed by Zorro himself, Antonio Banderes) to watch some organized basketball games yesterday. I waited for a while in hopes of seeing some good players. The last game I watched was decent. There were some taller guys and individually the players were better, but with that comes selfishness and crazy shots so it wasn't necessarily more fun to watch. It would be fun to be on a team while I'm here, but it doesn't seem possible. They all have jerseys with company names on them and I think the league/season has been underway for a while. They seem to have built all the hoops to match the average height of the population, because they are all dunkable (by me). Maybe it's better that I'm not on a team... my lifelong dream of dunking on somebody on (what people believe to be) a regulation hoop probably wouldn't win me too many amigos...
I finally labeled all my Photobucket pictures. I'm going to take more of the kids and the daycare staff this week. I hope everything is going well in Seattle (or wherever you are) despite the shortcomings of the economy, the presidential candidates, the Seahawks, and probably the weather by now.
Hasta luego.
It's alright, though. At least I'm finally getting some color... red. Inexplicably, at an altitude 6,000 feet higher than Seattle, and a latitude thousands of miles south, in a town that as far as I can tell sees the sun 364.25 days a year (on average)... I have managed to get sunburned. Ra and Montezuma must have been friends with one of the fruit flies I killed or something, because I'm pretty sure they're both out to get me. Unfortunately for those putos I have my buddies Sunscreen and Pepto on my squad, and that makes three against two.
Short book report: I liked Life of Pi a lot. I'm reading Travels now, by Michael Crichton. I liked it at first but now it's starting to annoy me. I could write for a while about why, but that would be a waste of a blog. I should reiterate that reading anything but this blog is for nerds.
THE NEWBS
The two new Slovenian volunteers are Petra, 25, and Nastja, 24. Petra is a thesis paper away from earning her Masters in Architecture, and Nastja already has her degree in Translation/Interpretation. Ironically, Petra's English is far superior. I think she might is gooder at English than me be. They are both really tall, impressed with how much I eat, and have really good attidudes about traveling and working in the daycare (which Nastja keeps calling an orphanage). They'll be here until November 10th, so I should have some more adventures to share soon enough.
BERG'S EYE VIEW
Because I like the name so much, I've decided to make this a recurring section of my blog.
- VW Bugs may be the most popular car in this city. There is easily at least one per block.
- Americans here act like they're part of some elite gringo club. They pick you out if they think you're American and say hello in English on the street. I don't know you anymore than I know any of these Mexicans, so stop assuming I think it's cool that we're both white. One lone, drunk American at a bar on Saturday was watching us for a while, then finally approached and said "Are y'all Amurricans?" Annoyed, I said that the white ones among us were, then rewarded him with a few minutes of conversation after he said he loved Seattle. He's a kid from Dallas working at a law firm in Mexico City translating documents. He said he'd been dying to talk with some other Americans... good thing you took a job in Mexico, hombre. He introduced himself to Miguel as Frank aka Francisco, but when we left he told me his name is Cart...
- I don't know if it's evident in the Blah Blah Blog, but as my Spanish (kind of) improves, my English is getting worse. I regularly draw blanks as I talk to Donna (the founder) or the other volunteers when trying to think of simple words. Part of it might be that I also dumb things down for the German/Slovenian/even British volunteers to make sure they understand me.
- I sat at Parque Benito Juarez (constructed by Zorro himself, Antonio Banderes) to watch some organized basketball games yesterday. I waited for a while in hopes of seeing some good players. The last game I watched was decent. There were some taller guys and individually the players were better, but with that comes selfishness and crazy shots so it wasn't necessarily more fun to watch. It would be fun to be on a team while I'm here, but it doesn't seem possible. They all have jerseys with company names on them and I think the league/season has been underway for a while. They seem to have built all the hoops to match the average height of the population, because they are all dunkable (by me). Maybe it's better that I'm not on a team... my lifelong dream of dunking on somebody on (what people believe to be) a regulation hoop probably wouldn't win me too many amigos...
I finally labeled all my Photobucket pictures. I'm going to take more of the kids and the daycare staff this week. I hope everything is going well in Seattle (or wherever you are) despite the shortcomings of the economy, the presidential candidates, the Seahawks, and probably the weather by now.
Hasta luego.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Felíz Cumpleaños
Tyler´s Birthday. Happy birthday, bruh... No idea if you actually read this, but if you do you can put in a request for some kind of Mexican birthday gift that you won´t get until around Christmas time. You´ll probably get some kind of Mexican Christmas gift as well.
In other news...
I´ll have a few more people to talk about behind their backs this weekend. Amanda´s (the remaining roommate/volunteer) sister is coming in on Friday for a short visit, as are two new Slovenian volunteers who will be here for a month. I´ve never met anyone Slovenian, so that should be... well probably unremarkable unless they´re both slammin´ 23-year old girls (cross your fingers). Luckily Christina moved out just in time for me to claim the other top floor, private bedroom. Also, I wrote in the last post about the crazy party for La Alborada. Apparently the party never really stopped until bright and early Monday morning, but it did take a more innocent turn. Starting at around 5pm Saturday evening there was a parade that paused, but never really stopped until late Sunday night. A bunch of tribes from around the area dressed up in impressive, elaborate tribal costumes and danced through the streets in the center of town. I took some pictures that I´ll post later, but they don´t do the costumes justice. I started taking pictures of the daycare chillens as well so those should be up by the weekend. I even took one of the stupid little girl who showed up today and appears to hate me. If she warms up to me by Friday I´ll consider putting her picture up. Otherwise it´s straight to the basura. Speaking of garbage, I´ve picked up my reading pace in the last few days. On Sunday I finished a book, read all of another one, and started a third. I´ll probably finish The Kite Runner today and start another tomorrow. Much more time-worthy are the dirty jokes Miguel and his friends like to tell each other. They pretty much all go like this: spanishspanishspanishspanishspanishPROSTITUTEspanishspanishSPANIIIISHHHH HAHAHAHAHAHA! ...I don´t get it...
A note about the food here...
Qué rico. It is delicious. I´ve probably had 50 tacos so far and I have no intentions of slowing down. If anything I might start having them more often. Typically I get five a time for dinner for 30 pesos ($3) from this place down the block. There are a couple more hoopty taco stands even closer to my house that I´ll try within the next couple days. All of the salsa is spicy as sin and I love it. There are chilis in everything. On one of my bus trips they gave me a snack bag with a pre-packaged ham and cheese and jalapeño sandwich. I´m going to start making those myself. Tamales are around 5 pesos each (do the math), and tortas are 15 or so. Considering I have 10 meals a week at the daycare, I´m doing a relatively good job of budgeting. One thing I have not tried, but inevitably will, are the chicken feet the daycare workers snack on when we have pollo for lunch. Clearly, it looks absolutely revolting.
OH! I also made sure to take a picture of one of the crazy old-ass white women I mentioned before. There is a group shot containing three of them and a close-up of the most typical one.
Final note: My address is something like:
#80 Avenida Colonial
Infonavit Malanquin
San Miguel De Allende, Mexico
Not that anyone would, but don´t send mail to this address. 1) It could very well be incorrect, and 2) We don´t get mail delivered to the house. The address is for those of you who were trying to find me on Google Earth.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
La Alborada
"THE DAWN"
This is what they call the Feast of Saint Michael (of San Miguel fame). This is the festival commemorating some significant part of Mexico´s battle for independence that occurred here or near here. The festivities were interesting, to say the least. The main gathering started at 3am Saturday morning in El Jardín (the garden in the center of town). There was a parade, music, and, most importantly, fireworks. It´s safe to say La Alborada was the most intimate, passionate, careless, and dangerous display of patriotism I have ever seen... but then again I´ve never been to Texas on the 4th of July so who knows... Unfortunately my camera died after taking those first few pictures of La Parroquia (the giant church in el jardín) so words will have to suffice. An insignificant part of the firework show was the organized, occasional launch of bigger fireworks like many of us used to see 30 times a year for Griffey in the kingdome (accounting for road game dingers). It appeared as though these fireworks, fired every five minutes or so, served solely as flares for those not already gathered in the center, as if to say "Hey idiots who aren´t already here, there´s a giant party and you´re supposed to be at it." The majority of the show, the heart of the show, was the constant spray of fireworks (more like firecrackers) directly into the crowd. This continued non-stop for two straight hours. It basically sounded like a war scene out of Forrest Gump. Within ten minutes of arriving I was dotted right between the eyes with some firework debris. I was surprised at first, but when I realized they didn´t hurt (a very weakly founded conclusion), I figured why not get all up in it. There was an area cleared for only the bravest of souls where the majority of the fireworks were exploding, so I made a bee-line for the lion´s den with Ozvanny and Michael. With our hoods pulled down over our faces we ran and jumped around in a circle with Ozvanny´s cousin and some other friends for a good 45 minutes. Understandably I was hit all over by flying shit, but it never hurt and left a very faintly warm spot on my clothing. There was a guy whose leg caught on fire, but he must have been jumping around wrong... After we got tired and I realized I probably just looked like another drunk American asshole, Michael went home and the rest of us retreated to Poppy´s house, which has an amazing view of La Parroquia (see the new pictures). However, because the fireworks rarely made it above eye level, all we could see were the infrequent professional looking displays and the glow of the more popular, more incendiary ones. This only made the whole event seem even more for la gente (the people); completely blocked off for anyone too busy or too tired to show up. Though the fireworks seemed random, as though people just couldn´t help but shoot them off, calling them unsanctioned would be like saying this isn´t the greatest blog in history. The vast majority of them came from behind La Parroquia´s gates, and the church bells rang for the entire two-hour duration, barely audible from within the crowd. Que increíble, que fatigoso...
BERG´S EYE VIEW
· The grasshoppers here are on PCP... or maybe, because I haven´t seen any apple trees around, they just don´t know about gravity yet. They casually throw themselves around like they don´t realize they´re going to land. They skid and roll across the ground on their stomachs, backs, sides, whatever, and get up just to do it again. Or maybe it´s like that thing with sharks where they become immobile when turned upside down in water... Either way, evolution fucked with them.
· Matías is gone now. His mom pulled him from the daycare because of his screaming and crying problem (from what I understand). Yesterday was eerily tranquil without him. He had only been there a week, but I don´t think anyone felt quite right with him gone. I have a few pictures up with him and a new crying baby, Saul, who will have to take his place now. One of the teachers called me "la papa de los bebes que siempre lloran"... the papa of the babies who always cry. Really it just seems like those are the niños the teachers need the most help with. It beats changing diapers.
· There are a whole lot of insane looking old white women here. They all fit a general description. Older than 60, makeup like a clown, with space-cadet eyes that I would swear are glass if it weren´t for the occasional blink. None of them even try to learn Spanish. Any words they know were probably absorbed accidentally.
· The entire city is eternally under construction. Apparently in Mexico you don´t need an occupancy permit to live on your property, so people buy land and gradually save money to build the houses up around them. In many cases construction will cease completely for a year or more while people work to save up. This means a lot of houses look abandoned or damaged, but really it´s an excellent idea.
· My Spanish vocabulary is steadily growing, but my grammar remains on par with the daycare kids.
· Bakeries here smell heavenly, but most of the sweet bread products are too dry.
· People here are much more affectionate than in the US, though I think that´s true for most countries. It´s a good thing, in my opinion.
· Taking good pictures is hard. I don´t know how anyone does it. Every landscape-type picture looks the same. Sorry for all those flower close-ups. The flower setting on the camera was the only one I could notice a difference with so I tested it out... exhausted it, apparently. Posting them on this blog is also hard. Well maybe it´s not, but it´s not working as smoothly as I had hoped. You´ll just have to click on the oversized, cropped versions when I post them and it´ll take you to my album on Photobucket. Sorry.
· There are a ton of basketball courts here but nobody uses them. When I do see someone shooting around it always looks like they´ve never touched a ball before. Apparently there are some competetive organized games on the weekends but if the PBA (Phillippines) game I watched was any indication of foreign basketball, these games aren´t worth my time.
· For all you Google Earthers, I forgot to look at my address before coming to this internet cafe. Looking at the street sign outside of the door, I think I´m on Avenida Colonial. I´ll try to remember next time.
· ¿Dónde está mi iPod? Chinga tu madre... (Sally, don´t read that part to your kids, even if they say it all the time).
This is what they call the Feast of Saint Michael (of San Miguel fame). This is the festival commemorating some significant part of Mexico´s battle for independence that occurred here or near here. The festivities were interesting, to say the least. The main gathering started at 3am Saturday morning in El Jardín (the garden in the center of town). There was a parade, music, and, most importantly, fireworks. It´s safe to say La Alborada was the most intimate, passionate, careless, and dangerous display of patriotism I have ever seen... but then again I´ve never been to Texas on the 4th of July so who knows... Unfortunately my camera died after taking those first few pictures of La Parroquia (the giant church in el jardín) so words will have to suffice. An insignificant part of the firework show was the organized, occasional launch of bigger fireworks like many of us used to see 30 times a year for Griffey in the kingdome (accounting for road game dingers). It appeared as though these fireworks, fired every five minutes or so, served solely as flares for those not already gathered in the center, as if to say "Hey idiots who aren´t already here, there´s a giant party and you´re supposed to be at it." The majority of the show, the heart of the show, was the constant spray of fireworks (more like firecrackers) directly into the crowd. This continued non-stop for two straight hours. It basically sounded like a war scene out of Forrest Gump. Within ten minutes of arriving I was dotted right between the eyes with some firework debris. I was surprised at first, but when I realized they didn´t hurt (a very weakly founded conclusion), I figured why not get all up in it. There was an area cleared for only the bravest of souls where the majority of the fireworks were exploding, so I made a bee-line for the lion´s den with Ozvanny and Michael. With our hoods pulled down over our faces we ran and jumped around in a circle with Ozvanny´s cousin and some other friends for a good 45 minutes. Understandably I was hit all over by flying shit, but it never hurt and left a very faintly warm spot on my clothing. There was a guy whose leg caught on fire, but he must have been jumping around wrong... After we got tired and I realized I probably just looked like another drunk American asshole, Michael went home and the rest of us retreated to Poppy´s house, which has an amazing view of La Parroquia (see the new pictures). However, because the fireworks rarely made it above eye level, all we could see were the infrequent professional looking displays and the glow of the more popular, more incendiary ones. This only made the whole event seem even more for la gente (the people); completely blocked off for anyone too busy or too tired to show up. Though the fireworks seemed random, as though people just couldn´t help but shoot them off, calling them unsanctioned would be like saying this isn´t the greatest blog in history. The vast majority of them came from behind La Parroquia´s gates, and the church bells rang for the entire two-hour duration, barely audible from within the crowd. Que increíble, que fatigoso...
BERG´S EYE VIEW
· The grasshoppers here are on PCP... or maybe, because I haven´t seen any apple trees around, they just don´t know about gravity yet. They casually throw themselves around like they don´t realize they´re going to land. They skid and roll across the ground on their stomachs, backs, sides, whatever, and get up just to do it again. Or maybe it´s like that thing with sharks where they become immobile when turned upside down in water... Either way, evolution fucked with them.
· Matías is gone now. His mom pulled him from the daycare because of his screaming and crying problem (from what I understand). Yesterday was eerily tranquil without him. He had only been there a week, but I don´t think anyone felt quite right with him gone. I have a few pictures up with him and a new crying baby, Saul, who will have to take his place now. One of the teachers called me "la papa de los bebes que siempre lloran"... the papa of the babies who always cry. Really it just seems like those are the niños the teachers need the most help with. It beats changing diapers.
· There are a whole lot of insane looking old white women here. They all fit a general description. Older than 60, makeup like a clown, with space-cadet eyes that I would swear are glass if it weren´t for the occasional blink. None of them even try to learn Spanish. Any words they know were probably absorbed accidentally.
· The entire city is eternally under construction. Apparently in Mexico you don´t need an occupancy permit to live on your property, so people buy land and gradually save money to build the houses up around them. In many cases construction will cease completely for a year or more while people work to save up. This means a lot of houses look abandoned or damaged, but really it´s an excellent idea.
· My Spanish vocabulary is steadily growing, but my grammar remains on par with the daycare kids.
· Bakeries here smell heavenly, but most of the sweet bread products are too dry.
· People here are much more affectionate than in the US, though I think that´s true for most countries. It´s a good thing, in my opinion.
· Taking good pictures is hard. I don´t know how anyone does it. Every landscape-type picture looks the same. Sorry for all those flower close-ups. The flower setting on the camera was the only one I could notice a difference with so I tested it out... exhausted it, apparently. Posting them on this blog is also hard. Well maybe it´s not, but it´s not working as smoothly as I had hoped. You´ll just have to click on the oversized, cropped versions when I post them and it´ll take you to my album on Photobucket. Sorry.
· There are a ton of basketball courts here but nobody uses them. When I do see someone shooting around it always looks like they´ve never touched a ball before. Apparently there are some competetive organized games on the weekends but if the PBA (Phillippines) game I watched was any indication of foreign basketball, these games aren´t worth my time.
· For all you Google Earthers, I forgot to look at my address before coming to this internet cafe. Looking at the street sign outside of the door, I think I´m on Avenida Colonial. I´ll try to remember next time.
· ¿Dónde está mi iPod? Chinga tu madre... (Sally, don´t read that part to your kids, even if they say it all the time).
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
La Vida y Los Picachos...
I already have a lot to write, so I´ll try to break it down into sections so people can pick and choose what they want to read.
SAN MIGUEL y LA CASA
Things are good here. The weather is hot during the day and cold at night. There is something going on every night and people stay out until well into the morning. I have also now seen Poppy´s house, Ozvanny´s house, and the apartment that this 23-year old Texan, Michael, is renting while his mom builds a house complete with pool table and massage parlor. Both Poppy´s house and Michael´s apartment are extremely nice. This weekend we went to La Feria; a fair with many less white people than I expected. It was alright, but I cut myself running away from something in the house of horrors and all the food was expensive. On Sunday Amanda and I went on una caminata (a hike) en los Picachos (some of the mountains outside San Miguel) with Miguelón from the daycare and four of his friends as well as his son, Josue, and his dog, Leo... more on the hike later. This weekend is the celebration for the feast of Saint Michael (San Miguel). Apparently the festivities don´t actually start until around 4am Saturday morning, so you really have no choice but to stay up until then drinking. Everyone from La Casa de Los Angeles will be there along with just about everyone else in the city. Hopefully that will provide some material for my next entry.
Yesterday (Monday) I had my first day in the little health clinic at La Casa de Los Angeles. The reception area/pharmacy plus the doctors´ office itself total about 250 square feet and there are already two doctors, a married couple named Sam and Cristina, so there isn´t really a ton of space or work for me. However, they let me sit in on both patient consultations yesterday and soon I´ll start taking the blood pressure of the patients who need it. The consultations were pretty interesting. I will now assume that since I am not a doctor nor a patient, doctor-patient confidentality does not apply to me. The first patient was a 29 year old man complaining of fatigue and an increase in his heart rate. I had a lot of trouble understanding him, as I do most people here, but the doctor spoke nice and clear and I found out later that I was guessing right. I even wondered to myself at one point if he had diabetes, and after he left the doctor told me she is worried he might be diabetic. Maybe I can just skip nursing school. The next appointment was a little boy with diarrhea. I understood almost nothing of that meeting, but the impression I got that there wasn´t really anything wrong with the kid also turned out to be more or less correct. The only thing I knew I was understanding was when the parents started asking about herpes.
I won´t be spending much time in the clinic, unfortunately, because there simply isn´t enough work. Our strategy from this point on is to have me work in the daycare until there is a patient, at which point the doctors will call for me and I´ll come and make some more patients wonder why the hell there is some clueless white boy in the room with them. The kids at the daycare are a lot of fun. Most like me because I am a white male... neither of which traits they see very often. One boy, Matías or Mathías, has taken a particular liking to me. His dad, an American, died recently, and we think he is comfortable with me because I resemble him to some degree. Matías arrived at the clinic a few days before me and when I showed up he was already famous for his day-long screaming fits. He cries and screams like something from Alien vs. Predator... except for when I´m with him. Apparently he finds me calming because he´ll fall asleep in my lap without a fuss and reaches for me whenever I´m in his site. Today he started crying and waving when it was time for me to leave. Maybe I´ll just marry his mom.
LOS PICACHOS
The hike... Pinche caminata... I had been looking forward to this hike, and apparently for good reason. The scenery was pretty amazing. We saw snakes, horses, donkeys, cows, some kind of giant bird, and tiny frogs, which seemed especially strange at the top of a mountain. I took pictures until the camera battery died, and I´ll hopefully have those added to the blog after I finish with this entry. Anyway, two of Miguelón´s friends served as guides for the hike, and dazzled me with what, at the time, I understood to be an intricate knowledge of El Picacho. We walked through woods and along fields that didn´t seem to have any sort of paths. We also saw some rocks painted some large amount of time ago. I guess they are famous or something, because all the Mexicans knew to get water from the nearby waterfall and spray it from their mouths onto the rocks to make the paintings visible. It was actually pretty cool. We were told to bring a lunch, so I had two pathetic PBJ´s and a banana that I ate on the way up. We shouldn´t have been told to bring a lunch, because the Mexicans brought a feast. They made a fire and brought metal trays for cooking chorizos, beef, and pieces of cactus they gathered at the top of the mountain. They also brought tortillas for tacos, some premade tacos, pico de gayo, two types of salsa, and probably some other stuff that I´m forgetting. It was incredible. We also ate the fruit from the cactus, called tuna. It basically tasted like watermelon.
Anyway, on the way down things took a temporary turn for the worse. We basically just walked over the side of the mountain, and of course I didn´t think anything of it because the way up was so smooth. I realized something was wrong when one of the "guides" started swearing, inexplicably, in English. Then when the slope only seemed to be getting steeper and the bushes taller and thicker, people started asking if we should go back up. That seemed slightly more impossible than going down, so we forged on. I had shorts on and my legs are still cut up. There were all sorts of plants that they kept telling me not to touch, as well as two different snakes that were apparently both very dangerous. People then created a guessing game called "What time do you think we´ll get back?" I don´t know who won, but it took us about six hours longer than expected. We eventually saw traces of horses or cows or something and realized we were near a way out. I had never been so comforted by feces in my life. We were finally led to a river, just like Bear Grylls would have wanted, and we followed it to a small pool of water where we all had a soak (word to Sweet Lou). It was worth it. I don´t know how many a buttload is, but the amount of pictures I took must have been nearing one before the camera begged for mercy. I´ll try to load them now...
I´ve been eating a lot of tacos and am having breakfast and lunch at the daycare in order to minimize the meals I have to buy (some things never change... even in Mexico). Really, though, this city isn´t that cheap and the food at the daycare is muy delicioso.
Hasta luego.
SAN MIGUEL y LA CASA
Things are good here. The weather is hot during the day and cold at night. There is something going on every night and people stay out until well into the morning. I have also now seen Poppy´s house, Ozvanny´s house, and the apartment that this 23-year old Texan, Michael, is renting while his mom builds a house complete with pool table and massage parlor. Both Poppy´s house and Michael´s apartment are extremely nice. This weekend we went to La Feria; a fair with many less white people than I expected. It was alright, but I cut myself running away from something in the house of horrors and all the food was expensive. On Sunday Amanda and I went on una caminata (a hike) en los Picachos (some of the mountains outside San Miguel) with Miguelón from the daycare and four of his friends as well as his son, Josue, and his dog, Leo... more on the hike later. This weekend is the celebration for the feast of Saint Michael (San Miguel). Apparently the festivities don´t actually start until around 4am Saturday morning, so you really have no choice but to stay up until then drinking. Everyone from La Casa de Los Angeles will be there along with just about everyone else in the city. Hopefully that will provide some material for my next entry.
Yesterday (Monday) I had my first day in the little health clinic at La Casa de Los Angeles. The reception area/pharmacy plus the doctors´ office itself total about 250 square feet and there are already two doctors, a married couple named Sam and Cristina, so there isn´t really a ton of space or work for me. However, they let me sit in on both patient consultations yesterday and soon I´ll start taking the blood pressure of the patients who need it. The consultations were pretty interesting. I will now assume that since I am not a doctor nor a patient, doctor-patient confidentality does not apply to me. The first patient was a 29 year old man complaining of fatigue and an increase in his heart rate. I had a lot of trouble understanding him, as I do most people here, but the doctor spoke nice and clear and I found out later that I was guessing right. I even wondered to myself at one point if he had diabetes, and after he left the doctor told me she is worried he might be diabetic. Maybe I can just skip nursing school. The next appointment was a little boy with diarrhea. I understood almost nothing of that meeting, but the impression I got that there wasn´t really anything wrong with the kid also turned out to be more or less correct. The only thing I knew I was understanding was when the parents started asking about herpes.
I won´t be spending much time in the clinic, unfortunately, because there simply isn´t enough work. Our strategy from this point on is to have me work in the daycare until there is a patient, at which point the doctors will call for me and I´ll come and make some more patients wonder why the hell there is some clueless white boy in the room with them. The kids at the daycare are a lot of fun. Most like me because I am a white male... neither of which traits they see very often. One boy, Matías or Mathías, has taken a particular liking to me. His dad, an American, died recently, and we think he is comfortable with me because I resemble him to some degree. Matías arrived at the clinic a few days before me and when I showed up he was already famous for his day-long screaming fits. He cries and screams like something from Alien vs. Predator... except for when I´m with him. Apparently he finds me calming because he´ll fall asleep in my lap without a fuss and reaches for me whenever I´m in his site. Today he started crying and waving when it was time for me to leave. Maybe I´ll just marry his mom.
LOS PICACHOS
The hike... Pinche caminata... I had been looking forward to this hike, and apparently for good reason. The scenery was pretty amazing. We saw snakes, horses, donkeys, cows, some kind of giant bird, and tiny frogs, which seemed especially strange at the top of a mountain. I took pictures until the camera battery died, and I´ll hopefully have those added to the blog after I finish with this entry. Anyway, two of Miguelón´s friends served as guides for the hike, and dazzled me with what, at the time, I understood to be an intricate knowledge of El Picacho. We walked through woods and along fields that didn´t seem to have any sort of paths. We also saw some rocks painted some large amount of time ago. I guess they are famous or something, because all the Mexicans knew to get water from the nearby waterfall and spray it from their mouths onto the rocks to make the paintings visible. It was actually pretty cool. We were told to bring a lunch, so I had two pathetic PBJ´s and a banana that I ate on the way up. We shouldn´t have been told to bring a lunch, because the Mexicans brought a feast. They made a fire and brought metal trays for cooking chorizos, beef, and pieces of cactus they gathered at the top of the mountain. They also brought tortillas for tacos, some premade tacos, pico de gayo, two types of salsa, and probably some other stuff that I´m forgetting. It was incredible. We also ate the fruit from the cactus, called tuna. It basically tasted like watermelon.
Anyway, on the way down things took a temporary turn for the worse. We basically just walked over the side of the mountain, and of course I didn´t think anything of it because the way up was so smooth. I realized something was wrong when one of the "guides" started swearing, inexplicably, in English. Then when the slope only seemed to be getting steeper and the bushes taller and thicker, people started asking if we should go back up. That seemed slightly more impossible than going down, so we forged on. I had shorts on and my legs are still cut up. There were all sorts of plants that they kept telling me not to touch, as well as two different snakes that were apparently both very dangerous. People then created a guessing game called "What time do you think we´ll get back?" I don´t know who won, but it took us about six hours longer than expected. We eventually saw traces of horses or cows or something and realized we were near a way out. I had never been so comforted by feces in my life. We were finally led to a river, just like Bear Grylls would have wanted, and we followed it to a small pool of water where we all had a soak (word to Sweet Lou). It was worth it. I don´t know how many a buttload is, but the amount of pictures I took must have been nearing one before the camera begged for mercy. I´ll try to load them now...
I´ve been eating a lot of tacos and am having breakfast and lunch at the daycare in order to minimize the meals I have to buy (some things never change... even in Mexico). Really, though, this city isn´t that cheap and the food at the daycare is muy delicioso.
Hasta luego.
Friday, September 26, 2008
La casa
The first night I spent in Mexico City, an enormous, sprawling, dirty town. The hostel I stayed in was nice enough and offered free breakfast (cold scrambled eggs with some spicy shit in them). At night I drank a bunch of beer with the typical type of people you find in hostels; wayward backpackers who don´t seem to have much purpose in life other than believing they´re too good to live in their home countries but don´t do anything when they travel except drink, move around, and complain about the world without doing anything about it (or quite often without knowing what they´re talking about). I felt like every single one of them was a philosophy major who got bad grades. There was one Danish guy who seemed a little more intelligent, but I got the impression he was depressed.
Anyway...
I´m in San Miguel now and everything is bueno. On the bus ride from Mexico City we watched Juno en español, so that was... impossible to understand. There was also some guy who jumped on at the bus station trying to sell some kind of dental prophylactic cure-all in an eyedrop bottle. I didn´t get one. There are two other people living in the volunteer house right now, which I took pictures of but will have to post later (the house, not the girls). One is a 20 year old German girl, Kristina, and the other is a 22 year old girl named Amanda from a tiny town in Southern California. Kristina leaves in a week or so but Amanda is staying until long after I leave. There are other volunteers living on there own: Poppy from England who is living in a huge house her mom owns, Hazel from somewhere who I haven´t met and might not meet, and a married couple comprised of some guy from somewhere and some girl who went to UW. I also met the Mexican friend of Amanda and Christina, a 23 year old named Ozvanny. He and Poppy got arrested last night, but we´re still not sure why. They were released after being ¨interviewed.¨
Today was my first day of work in the Hogar (home) de (of) Los Angeles (me). The founder, an ebullient Christian from Chicago, showed me both guardarías (daycares) and introduced me to whoever was there. There were a bunch of Mexican women. Some names I can remember are Isabel, Flor, Nezvi (or something), Ana, Fabiola, and the only Mexican guy, Miguel. All of the women hired are mothers of children who are or were in the daycare. All mothers of children are required to volunteer one hour for every day their child is at the center. The kids are pretty great... their ages range from somewhere around three months to three or four years. All I really did today was rub some backs, play around, and change some clothes. Next week I´ll start helping in the miniscule health clinic at the new daycare, run by Mexican husband-and-wife doctors. Who knows what they´ll have me do, considering the extent of my health-related vocabulary is "are you sick?"
The city is pretty cool. Hilly streets made of cobblestones. Tonight I´ll spend some time in the city center, which is a 20 or 30 minute walk from my house. This weekend should provide some time for exploring on Saturday and a hike with some other angels on Sunday. I think that´s enough for now. I don´t really expect to post entries as often as I have been but there isn´t anything to do in the house except read, and reading is for nerds.
Anyway...
I´m in San Miguel now and everything is bueno. On the bus ride from Mexico City we watched Juno en español, so that was... impossible to understand. There was also some guy who jumped on at the bus station trying to sell some kind of dental prophylactic cure-all in an eyedrop bottle. I didn´t get one. There are two other people living in the volunteer house right now, which I took pictures of but will have to post later (the house, not the girls). One is a 20 year old German girl, Kristina, and the other is a 22 year old girl named Amanda from a tiny town in Southern California. Kristina leaves in a week or so but Amanda is staying until long after I leave. There are other volunteers living on there own: Poppy from England who is living in a huge house her mom owns, Hazel from somewhere who I haven´t met and might not meet, and a married couple comprised of some guy from somewhere and some girl who went to UW. I also met the Mexican friend of Amanda and Christina, a 23 year old named Ozvanny. He and Poppy got arrested last night, but we´re still not sure why. They were released after being ¨interviewed.¨
Today was my first day of work in the Hogar (home) de (of) Los Angeles (me). The founder, an ebullient Christian from Chicago, showed me both guardarías (daycares) and introduced me to whoever was there. There were a bunch of Mexican women. Some names I can remember are Isabel, Flor, Nezvi (or something), Ana, Fabiola, and the only Mexican guy, Miguel. All of the women hired are mothers of children who are or were in the daycare. All mothers of children are required to volunteer one hour for every day their child is at the center. The kids are pretty great... their ages range from somewhere around three months to three or four years. All I really did today was rub some backs, play around, and change some clothes. Next week I´ll start helping in the miniscule health clinic at the new daycare, run by Mexican husband-and-wife doctors. Who knows what they´ll have me do, considering the extent of my health-related vocabulary is "are you sick?"
The city is pretty cool. Hilly streets made of cobblestones. Tonight I´ll spend some time in the city center, which is a 20 or 30 minute walk from my house. This weekend should provide some time for exploring on Saturday and a hike with some other angels on Sunday. I think that´s enough for now. I don´t really expect to post entries as often as I have been but there isn´t anything to do in the house except read, and reading is for nerds.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Vamos!
Alright... here we go. I am safely in Mexico City where I will stay for only one day. Nothing interesting has happened, but I did ask the woman at the Torta stand if it was going to rain. Va a llover... Tomorrow I think I´ll head off to San Miguel and hopefully I´ll have some more interesting things to say in the near future... just thought I´d let you know that the plane didn´t crash.
Monday, September 22, 2008
The Inaugural Blahgural Blog
So here it is: my trip blog. Aside from some infrequent an generally uninformative e-mails, this is where you'll be able to read about my time in San Miguel De Allende, Mexico over the next couple months or so. Please don't take this unwillingness to e-mail as anything more than my own laziness. Also, assuming I can figure these internets out without Stu's help, I'll be able to post all my podcasts on here as well. Just kidding I'm not doing podcasts, but I should have pictures and a couple videos. The weather widget on the right seemed like a cool idea but it looks like you might have to type in the city every time... so only those who really really care will get to see how warm I am.
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