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
Monday, October 27, 2008
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).
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