Things Mexicans like #8 - Being Late (llegando tarde)

Here, like traffic regulations, time is merely a suggestion. The bell system at the Institute is one of the office workers grabbing a small hand bell and walking around the campus ringing it more or less at 9 AM. This is not exact, and even after the bell rings, people still mosey to class. I can leave my house at 9 and still be “on time” by Mexican standards. The first few weeks I was generally on time, and therefore very early and very bored in the mornings, so I started sleeping in a little later… now I’m more like my old self in the States. If you know me, then you know that I am perpetually late. Therefore, I fit right in like a native… a really obviously white, foreign native.

Thing I won’t miss #5 - Gas de Oaxaca (and various other morning vendors)
Potable water and gas (for use in water heaters, etc – not cars) are delivered to the population of Oaxaca each morning. Great, right? Exactly what you need brought straight to your doorstep. No. Mexicans have an unspoken pact to share noise. But for me, like the fireworks, dogs, and violated monkeys, the various delivery men shouting out whatever goods they boast at the asscrack of dawn is far from cool. First there’s always the guy with the bell. I don’t know what this guy is selling, but he generally paces up and down each calle at bright and early while ringing a cowbell. What the Fuh? Next comes the water truck. This one is just a dude screaming “AGUA…. AGUA.” And last but not least is the Gas de Oaxaca camión (truck). This is a truck that comes through around 7 or 7:30 every morning and honks its horn. There is a speaker attached to the top of the truck that announces “GAS DE OAXACA” and then commences to play the jingle. Yes, there is a Gas de Oaxaca theme song, and it is thoroughly annoying. I saved this “thing I won’t miss” for last because I was hoping to get a video of it to show how absurd it is, but considering how I’m usually half naked, half asleep, and cursing under my breath when it passes by, that never happened. This morning, though, my new housemate Maria (from Ireland) asked me if it was always this noisy. She, Marta, and I were laughing about all the people who come through in the mornings when I heard the Gas de Oaxaca theme song. I quickly excused myself from the table, ran upstairs to grab my camera, and snagged the above photo. Anyhow, I’m happy to be heading back to a world where people respect others sleeping patterns.

Thing I will miss #4 - Instituto Cultural Oaxaca (ICO)
I really did have a good experience at this school. It’s a beautiful, comfortable, small campus, the people are gracious, and I feel like I really learned a lot here. I met a girl at a bar who had transferred from ICO to another language school in Oaxaca because she felt that the Institute was too “capitalist”. Maybe I’m blind or numb to capitalism at this point, but I really disagree. To me, ICO feels like much more of a grassroots effort (did I mention the class bell system was usually a guy in a lucha libre t-shirt ringing a handbell?). Most of the teachers and students are incredibly progressive, forward thinking, and independent people that I had a great time associating with. I will miss sitting in the garden; I will miss watching people dance on the roof; I will miss looking out the window during class to see palm trees and mountains; I will even miss class itself.

Today is my last day in Oaxaca! Twenty four hours from now I will be near landing in Chicago. I can’t believe it’s time to go home. I have been so ready all week, but today I was walking down the road that leads to my cul de sac and I had to walk through a mariachi band warming up. It really hit me then how different my life has been here and how strange it’s going to be to go home. Tonight I’m going out with a slightly large group of people to celebrate my (and Jennifer’s) last night in Oaxaca. I’ve already booked a collective taxi to pick me up at 9 AM tomorrow. A taxi that will drive me away from this land where dogs live on roofs and spend their days talking shit to the people that cross below them, a land where it’s commonplace to yield for donkeys, turkeys, and men with scythes, a land where everyone and everything (especially the architecture) is very open. The taxi will take me to the ridiculously small Oaxaca airport, and I’ll begin my journey home, along with my funny tan lines, a pocket full of memories, and Spanish skills slightly superior to those of Peggy Hill.

I’m coming home.

Things Mexicans Like #7 - Pepper (chile)

You would probably never think to put pepper in the center of a watermelon flavored candy, but a Mexican would. You would more than likely never desire to coat a lollipop in chili powder, but you can bet your sweet ass that a Mexican would. Here, if it’s not hot, it’s not worth eating. This is understandable with entrees such as chile relleno (a chili pepper stuffed with meat, or if you’re me, cheese. By the way, it’s impossible to be vegan here. Just try avoiding cheese in Mexico. It’s like avoiding crabs in a skeezy strip club where the strippers inform you that you smell like chicken.); however it makes no sense whatsoever to me to add tear jerking spice to something dulce (sweet). If you’ve ever tried Mikey’s “Chocolate Thunder” at Café Coco and likened it to hate in liquid form, just imagine EVERYTHING tasting like that, and you’ll be one step closer to Mexico.

I am exaggerating a bit about the spice, as there are many restaurants with American influence in Oaxaca. There are plenty of cafés that are very much along the lines of Café Coco or Bongo Java (yes, I have visited them on many occasions). There’s also an Italian Coffee Company (~Starbucks) on nearly every corner in the downtown center, and sporadically throughout the city you’ll find a McDonalds, Burger King, KFC, and Dominos Pizza (I’d like to state on record that I have taken great care to avoid these institutions). But for authentic Oaxacano cuisine that would make you slap your mama if she wasn’t two thousand miles away, I go to La Casa del Tío Güero. There are two really great things about this place: 1 – options sin carne (without meat) and 2 – the food is muy barato (very cheap). For sesenta (sixty) pesos (roughly $6 USD) you get a drink, appetizer, entrée, and dessert. Did I mention that there is no meat! AH! It’s so exciting! The sad part is, there’s hardly ever anyone there, and these cats definitely deserve business, so next time you find yourself in Oaxaca (probably never) make sure you go to Porfirio Diaz and check out La Casa del Tío Güero.

Thing I won’t miss #4 – Only getting hit on by old, ugly, fat men. Wait… that happens in the states too. DAMMIT. At least at home it’s roughly the same demographic, but occurs much less frequently than here. The ridiculously uncomfortable forwardness of men is part of that whole “macho” attitude that you’ll find in throughout Mexico (save the Istmo, where things are much more matriarchal). I definitely won’t look back fondly on lines like, “Hello, I’m a lawyer, can I have your phone number?” or “Would you like to help me practice my English tonight?”
*note* credit for the above photo goes to Caazena. This guy is a prime example of what I won't miss. He informed us that night that there was "mucho amor en Mexico". Lo siento, good sir, but I don't think I want any of your amor.

Here's a more serious thing I won't miss: machine guns. After four and a half weeks, I'm pretty much numb to the truckloads full of police and military personal with automatic weapons in hand. It's something I see in the streets about every other day. Something I'm not exactly used to is having to walk past five guys in plain clothes holding machine guns - and that's exactly what happened on Monday. After I posted my last blog at La Brujala (a cafe in the centro), I was walking back to mi casa on Avenida Reforma, a road I've walked many times during my stay here in Oaxaca. To my left I noticed two Policia (policemen). No big deal. However, across from them, to the right of the sidewalk, and therefore on the other side of me, were three normal looking men with large guns. I'm hoping they were plain clothes officers, but it scared me nonetheless to have to walk through 5 machine guns. I wasn't doing anything wrong, but I didn't want to be on that street anymore. Shit happens, guns misfire, confusion erupts... wars have started that way and I just didn't want to be a part of that. So I hung a quick left on Humbolt... only to find two more armed men who would otherwise pass as civilians. It's a big intimidation thing here, and I'm just pissed that I have to be afraid when I've done nothing wrong. I still don't know what was going down on that corner on Monday, but whatever it was, I definitely won't miss it.

Thing I will miss #3 – Walking. In spite of all the crazy drivers, this is such a pedestrian friendly city. Throughout the center there are constant sidewalks, one way streets that are easy to cross, and several pedestrian only roads. I can’t believe I haven’t driven in five weeks. Also because I have so much time on my hands, I don’t think twice about setting out for somewhere that’s three or four miles away. The other night we left La Olla (where we ate for dinner) en route to Russio (a bar where Sesenta y nueve was playing), and of course Marisol and Montezerrat assured us that the club was “muy cerca” (very close). Like I said, I don’t think twice about walking. I like it, I’ve been here for a long time so I’m used to it. But after a few blocks Caazena (mi compañera de clase de Dallas, Texas) turned to me and said, “Don’t you love it when people here say something is really close and then fifteen minutes later you’re still walking?” I thought that was really funny. And true.

I should also mention that to negate anything beneficial the walking is doing for my health, I will also miss churros.

Things Mexicans Like #6 - Converse

Volkswagon : Los Coches (cars) :: Converse : Los Zapatos (shoes)
They’re everywhere. Worn by people of all ages, shapes, sizes, and colors. Now of course, converse is a popular brand of shoe, but here, it’s like the only shoe that matters. Generally low-top all stars. I constantly look around at los niños en la calle (the kids on the street), la gente en las tiendas (people in stores), y a mi maestro (and my teacher) and wonder, “why the hell did I leave my beloved high-top chuck taylors behind in the States?” The answer – because it’s fucking hot here and I wanted to pack light. That’s how I ended up with this wicked Chaco’s tan.

Thing I won’t miss #3
I honestly am not sure how to explain this, but you’ll come to realize that most of the things I won’t miss are things that go bump in the night. Or rather, anything that goes bump whenever I try to sleep. One of my vecinos (neighbors) has an animal. I don’t know what kind of animal it is, but I liken the noise it makes throughout the night to a monkey being sodomized with a hot curling iron. This is not to say that I’ve ever heard the noises a monkey makes while being sodomized with a curling iron, nor do I know if this particular event has ever transpired in the history of the world. I hope it hasn’t. The point is, this animal (in reality it is more than likely some type of bird) makes this awful, terrible, no good, very bad sound all through the day and night. While I’m studying, sleeping, reading, taking a nap, etc. It sucks, and I won’t miss it. The end.

Thing I will miss #2 - The Llano
The Llano is the casual name for Parque Juarez, a park just a few blocks from both my house and the Institute. It is one of the first places I explored on my first day in Oaxaca when I got lost looking for ICO (my school). If Oaxaca were NYC, the Llano would be Central Park. In truth, there are many places in Oaxaca where people go to pass time on a daily basis (Zocalo, Santo Domingo, Parque Conzatti, etc.), but the Llano is my favorite. It is so full of life. I love just sitting and watching the families playing soccer, boy scouts having their weekly meetings, couples pushing babies in strollers or walking dogs, men shining shoes, women selling elotes (corn on the cob), and little kids racing around the paths on their tricycles. Despite the incredibly unnecessary construction on both the north and east sides of the park (yet another example of corruption and misuse of public funds in the Oaxacan government), it is a very serene place and I will miss it greatly. (Pictured above: the statue of Benito Juarez located in the center of the Llano.)

This past week has been so crazy! Several of my classmates returned to the U.S., leaving only TWO of us in class! It’s really nice though because I basically get a private tutor. I do, however, miss the kids who left. We partied on Thursday and Friday to celebrate their leave-taking. Both nights we went to see my teacher’s friend’s band named Sesenta y nueve. If you know your numbers in Spanish, then you just had a little chuckle. They were nice guys and they played a Frankie Valli cover on Thursday which took me by surprise. On Thursday I also went back to Monte Alban, because I realized that during the reforestation project I didn’t actually get to see the principal part of the ruins. WOW. I am way too sentimental, emotional, and nerdy about this kind of thing to even describe it, but there will be pictures on facebook by the end of the nite. Also, I thought there would be no better way to kick off MI ULTIMA SEMANA EN OAXACA than by reading Derrick Brown poems in the sand, so I took an impromptu road trip to Puerto Escondido and saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time! Once again, pictures on facebook. Not en este momento (at this moment), but soon. I stayed in a hostel para mujeres (for women) owned by an artist named Esperanza who I’m pretty sure was doing the nasty when I arrived, so I didn’t have to pay until the next day. Also, she smelled like weed. The ride to Puerto was through the Sierra Sur, a MASSIVE mountain range, so a trip that is the same distance as Nashville to Memphis took six hours. At first I thought it was awesome, being a part of the mountains and ascending from the valleys up until we were in the clouds, and then going back down again… but it made me really dizzy and sick like being on a wooden roller coaster that jerks you around a lot. On the way there I thought to myself, “dude, this would SUCK in the rain.” And the next day I found out, that yes, it does suck in the rain. I basically prepared myself for my death. I put my ipod on shuffle and had faith that only the songs that I was meant to hear before my demise would play. I also wondered if I would attempt to save my stuff or other people in the event that we found ourselves upside down in a gulch somewhere. I decided that were I not too disabled, I would follow the old “women and children first” rule. I should also point out that illusions of safety, such as guardrails do not exist here. Not even on the side of a mountain, 3,000 ft above anything. The good news is we lived, and there was much rejoicing.

DISCLAIMER- no monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.

Things Mexicans Like #5 – Honking their horns (tocando sus bocinas)

Mexicans are very aggressive drivers, and honestly, they have to be. There are no rules of the road – merely suggestions. Stop doesn’t mean stop; it means continue rolling until you’re sure (or maybe not so sure) that you can make the intersection and then floor it. Lanes? What lanes? Slower vehicles straddle the shoulder while taxis, autobuses, and privately owned vehicles weave around each other in the remaining space. Also, no one uses seatbelts (cinturones de seguro). Nothing about driving (or riding) here is safe. But the point is, people don’t hesitate to honk their horns – even when there’s not much to honk about. And once one person honks, everyone wants a turn. I can’t even remember the last time I used my horn at home, even when I am being run off the road. I generally just stare in agony at my impending accident and scream obscenities until the other driver realizes what a dumbass they are.

If you don’t know yet, my “Things Mexicans Like…” trend is inspired by a site called Stuff White People Like. They randomly post new “stuff” but since the “Stuff White People Like” book was just released in May, many of the recent posts have been about that. I seriously wet my pants over this shit because it hits so close to home for me… standing still at concerts, recycling, being vegetarian, loving Asians, Wes Anderson flicks, and Obama… It’s great. If you’re white and these stereotypes don’t apply to you, then you should probably check out your gene pool… or just laugh because you can at least think of 50 white people off the top of your head that do wear New Balance or think they know what’s best for poor people. If you’ve never had a chance to check it out you should, especially since you found out about it from a white person who is Studying Abroad (#72).

Things I Won’t Miss #2 – the neighborhood dogs (los perros del barrio)
I haven’t been able to sleep well at night lately – partially because the dogs in this town NEVER SLEEP. It’s sort of like the honking of the horns thing. Once one dog opens his damn mouth, they all have an opinion, and they voice their opinions, LOUDLY, until a las dos o tres en la manana (2 or 3 in the morning). I’ve gotten so restless listening to them at night that I create dialogue in my head. Last night it went a little something like this:

-Political Dog – “So who do you guys think Obama and McCain are going to choose for running mates?”
And because all Mexican dogs care deeply about American politics…
-1,000 other dogs in the general vicinity of my house – “RABBLE RABBLE RABBLE….”
This goes on for thirty minutes. Until one voice of wisdom emerges…
-Sensible Dog – “You know, the media is only making a big deal out that and every other detail of the election to take your minds off the damage that the Bush administration is still causing.”
1,000 dogs realize that Sensible Dog is correct, and the night falls silent for about 15 minutes, until…
-Music Snob Dog – “In Rainbows is totally the best album since the Bends.”
And because all Mexican dogs have an infinite knowledge of Radiohead…
-1,000 other dogs – “RABBLE RABBLE RABBLE RABBLE”
Once again, this occurs for approximately half an hour, until diehard Kid A and OK Computer fans get sick of arguing. Finally, the night is calm, until…
-Stupid Fucking Dog – “So, the new Terminator movie is going to kick ass.”
Silence.
Because even Mexican dogs know that casting Christian Bale won’t save the concept of another Terminator flick from sucking big time.

In the past couple of days I’ve visited three art museums (graphic, contemporary, and Oaxacan painters), a etnobotanical garden, the city cemetery (WAY cool and creepy – check out the facebook pics), the ginormous, sprawling Sunday market at Tlacolula, a shanty town called Yagul (I thought I was going to the Zapotec ruins, but the bus driver left me next to a village of wooden shacks in the middle of NOWHERE), and Santa Maria del Tule. Tule is byfar one of the coolest things ever. It’s a tree which is over 2000 years old (possibly the oldest living thing on the planet), with a height of over 130 feet and a circumference of approximately 178 feet. I’m a tree hugger, but to surround this tree (possibly the world's largest biomass) in total, I would need about 34 other people to help! It’s really a beautiful thing. And the tour guides… are local kids! They are really cute! The town of Santa Maria del Tule is adorable and I wanted to stay there all day, but I had to get back to conversation class by 4. On the ride back I tried to take in all of the sights and smells the entire time. I know I’ve been doing the “things I won’t miss section,” but since I only have ten days left, here’s one thing I definitely will miss when I return to the States: The Sierra Norte Montañas. The mountains are absolutely marvelous – literally breathtaking- and I don’t know what I’ll do when I wake up and look out the window only to find the Cumberland Plateau. Today was the first day I cried not because I miss home (I’ve done that enough), but rather because I will miss Mexico.

Things Mexicans Like #4 – Popeye

Besides every single waking hour in my own mind, I can’t remember the last time Popeye received the admiration that he so deserves in the United States. This is entirely not the case in Mexico. Elvis isn’t king here – Popeye is. On my flight from Mexico City to Oaxaca, there was a kid with a stuffed Popeye doll, which I thought was the strangest and cutest thing ever. Once I arrived I realized that it wasn’t strange at all. Popeye is everywhere. He even has his own brand of Popsicles! And for the record, asking to take this guy’s picture was probably the single most awkward thing I’ve done on this trip.

Mexican emo kids – They do exist, Daniel. This is a picture of the sign for the Mexican equivalent of Hot Topic, where the jovenes (young people) can go to purchase the latest, hippest My Chemical Romance camiseta (t-shirt) or Nightmare Before Christmas mochila (backpack). American pop-culture and bands with lyrical content in English are incredibly popular here. I’ve seen kids sporting the merchandise of Iron Maiden, the the Strokes, and Foo Fighters; walking down the street I’ve heard the sounds of Metallica, Amy Winehouse, and Gnarls Barkley escaping the windows of bars; there’s even a garage band living behind me that plays System of a Down and Cranberries cover songs. We’ve really penetrated their culture, but in the U.S. Mexicans don’t have anything to show except Carlos Santana and Rodrigo y Gabriela.

I’m at Café Orgasmico (again). With all the iced coffee, wifi, bohemian art, and great music I could ever want, it’s kind of like my Café Coco away from home. They play a variety of music with English and Spanish lyrics, so it isn’t too touristy. In fact, I’m the only guera (whitey) here right now. I can hear Mexican jazz/funk/alt/indie (that mariachi polka shit can get old), plus Bob Dylan and Feist in one sitting. It’s great. Viva Café Orgasmico! Viva Mexico!

There are newsstands on all the corners I pass on my way to school every morning. These not only carry daily papers, but a variety of magazines and other printed material. The Banky Edwards in me is dying to snag a copy of Archie en espanol, and… well, to completely liken this situation to a Kevin Smith flick, the Jay in me is dying to buy a smutty Mexican porno. Maybe I’ll meet in the middle and get some Hentai in spanish (they have that too!).

I made it past the halfway point! I’ve currently been here nineteen days, with only fifteen left before I’m back in the States! So I’ve decided to start a new trend in my posts called “Things I Won’t Miss”. Thing I Won’t Miss #1 – the Mothman. Remember the whole no air-conditioning situation? Well, it’s been rather hot in the evenings lately, so I’ve had my windows constantly open. Unfortunately, the lights in my room attract bugs, and the occasional mysterious character from that Richard Gere movie The Mothman Prophecies. This thing is absolutely HUGE, it makes a giant ruckus, and I have no idea how to get it out of my room. Usually when it decides to stop by, I sleep on the couch in the den so it doesn’t eat me. So far this has meant two nights on the couch for me (couch = smaller than a loveseat). I’m just excited to get back to my little world where insects are reasonably sized.

By the way, I’ve dropped out of the Cultural Institute and joined this new Spanish language program.

Things Mexicans Like #3 - Volkswagon (...Volkswagon)

In reading my guidebook before I arrived, I noticed the travel writers described some of the potholes in the super carreterra (super highway) as being fierce enough to swallow a VW bug. Now I realize how relevant that explanation was. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Volkswagon has a monopoly on the automobile market around here, but EVERYONE drives VW. Not just bugs, though they are the most common. Trucks are usually Nissans, which of course makes me feel right at home.

So yesterday was pretty much the greatest day ever. I had planned to go with my housemate to something we had seen flyers for around town, however she likes to bitch a lot but doesn’t like to do work (“The system my friends is bringin’ us down… so we should fight together now!” “But how?” “Uh, how? That’s not my job. Let me finish this bongload and we’ll ask my third eye.” - DCB), so I set out on my own and met a group of about 40 people at la Casa de la Ciudad for the Reforest Monte Alban project. We filled a whole bus with volunteers – standing room only, and hit the bumpy trail to the Zapotec ruins. The ascent to Monte Alban in the bus was ridiculously steep, it was no 90 degree angle, but it sure as hell felt like it. Then we had to unload and carry all the arbolitos (baby trees), picos (pickaxes), and palas (shovels) up to the reforestation site. I was armed with a pickaxe, and I wish I had counted how many trees I actually planted on my own; I stopped counting after two. As a whole, we seriously planted HUNDREDS of trees yesterday. There were 77 arbolitos in a box and we planted at least 6 boxes of those, plus dozens of different types of trees piled in wheelbarrows. After about two hours we finished and got a free tour of the ruins! This involved even more climbing, and I realized that no estoy in buena forma (I am not in good shape). I also got an awesome free t-shirt and a salutatory cheek kiss from a cute Mexican dude in plaid. Afterwards I decided to go balls to the wall and try the popular sabor de helado (flavor of ice cream) “leche quemada” or literally, burned milk. It wasn’t orgasmic, but I didn’t hate it – of course my opinion may be skewed. Working in the heat all day makes any ice cream taste like world peace.

Speaking of orgasmic, for whatever reason la red (the internet) at my house wasn't working today, so I'm at a cafe in Santo Domingo with wi-fi. It's called Cafe Orgasmico and EVERYTHING in here is art. In fact, I feel really bad for sitting ass on this chair because it's such a cool chair. You can all look forward to my next blog, which examines the life of a Mexican emo kid and celebrates Popeye the sailor. As always, pictures are on facebook and TE AMO!

Things Mexicans Like #2 - Accordions (acordeónes)

Just about everyday I walk to or through the Zocolo (city centre + La Catedral) which is a very touristy district. Touristy streets mean three things: beggars, solicitors, and buskers. I generally prefer the latter (if they are working for their money and supplying me with quality music, then they deserve a buck or two), some of my street instruments of choice are saxophone (preferably tenor), Stroh violin, accordion, and ten gallon plastic pickle jug. If you know me, then you know that I cannot resist an accordion player... and unfortunately for my wallet, Mexico has TONS of accordionistas. I had to stop giving out my spare change the second day. Speaking of the destitute searching for a better life (or at least dinner) in a tourist’s pocket, last night I was walking up La Calle Macedonia Alcala thinking about how awesome Mexico was and how great life is and how perfect the night air feels, etc… when I noticed a woman holding out her bowl on the side of the street. Like in any big city, there are homeless people here, and like I said before, if they aren’t working for the money in some way, I generally don’t feel bad for looking past them and not offering what I can. What caught my eye here was some figure behind the woman. It was her two year old son sleeping on the pavement. All of the positive thoughts were immediately shattered. This image occurs quite a bit in Oaxaca. I have never seen this many homeless children before in my life. I struggled for the next two blocks over whether or not to turn around and offer her the 20 pesos I had found on the ground earlier that day. I finally forced myself to come to the realization that my 20 pesos wouldn’t change the fact that a toddler calls the sidewalk home... and commenced to blow my money on alcohol.

So I saw the Dark Knight (in English with Spanish subtitles - I learned how to say shit) on Wednesday at the Cinepolis, which is a theatre far superior to any commercial movie theatre I’ve been to in the states. The Cinepolis theme is apparently MGMT’s “Time to Pretend” because that was played over and over in the lobby and in the theatre prior to the previews. Wednesday night is dos por uno night, so the place was PACKED (lleno)… and did I mention I only paid $2.80 USD? Fucking A. Batman (one of the theatre employees in costume) ripped our tickets, helped direct traffic and find seats for people, and even staged a chase scene with one of the other employees before the previews. I love Mexico.

Last night I went to a German Orchestra concert in the Municipal Palace. German vs. Mexican is quite possibly one of the most awkward culture clashes ever imagined. I’m sorry, but ringing cell phones, screaming children, Spongebob (Bob Esponja) balloons, and psychedelic light shows have no place at a German Orchestra concert… but somehow they all found their way in. Plus the acoustics were terrible, the music selection was slightly worse than god-awful, and the German conductor’s Spanish language skills were embarrassingly laughable. Luckily, I had an excuse to leave early (unfortunately this didn’t save me from musical selections from Walt Disney’s “Tarzan”… I shit you not). I left to meet some other students from the institute and we all went to a salsa club called “La Candela”. My usual dance partner, Barton, had consumed far too much mezcal before we even got to the club, so our moves were less than impressive; though I’m sure they were entertaining. Our salsa maestro, Roberto, even came! Yesterday was mi último día de salsa (my last day of salsa class). Next week I’ll start a conversation class.

P.S. – In researching the Stroh violin for this blog, I came across this article: http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio3/world/onyourstreet/mssophie3.shtml. It sounded so uniquely awesome that I bought the album and I’m so excited about it. Also, the picture of the Stroh violin player linked above is the same dude I gave a Euro to outside the Reubens House in Antwerp this past spring!

¡Hasta luego!

Things Mexicans Like #1: Fireworks (Fuegos artificiales)

Mexicans take their celebrations VERY seriously. It’s go big or go home around here. There are a few things you can always count on in a fiesta: free shit (the real free shit – the kind that doesn’t cost anything), dancing (bailando), and fireworks. Unfortunately, most of the fireworks around here suck. The fireworks used by the general population of Oaxaca could never compare to a 12” Maximum Thrust, Funky Fantasy, or Total Blowout. No, these fueras are definitely not Big Bad Bangers of Deep Impacts. Far from it. They generally make a lot of noise, set of various car alarms, cause dogs to bark incessantly, wake me up, and then erupt into a little cloud of smoke equivalent to a medium sized fart. It is Guelaguetza weekend (more about that can be found in the Facebook photo album) so fireworks are everywhere as a part of the celebration. What I don’t understand is the frequency at which people shoot them off early in the morning. Seriously? 6 AM? What’s the occasion? Did you have a particularly awesome bowel movement and think, “Hot damn! Let’s break out the fireworks!” Anyway, I hope this dies down a bit after La Guelaguetza.
I spent all weekend acquainting myself with Oaxaca. I walked the perimeter of the historical district, climbed the escaleras to the Guelaguetza Auditorium, and walked to and from the Guelaguetza Alternativa, which was located at the Instituto Tecnologico…a good hour and a half from my house. I know earlier I compared the weather to Tennessee, which is very true (minus some of the humidity); however, I forgot to mention one important thing: no air conditioning. I have yet to encounter it in any building. Most buildings have breezeways, open courtyards, or lots of windows to help ventilate, so no one seems to mind… including me. I’m getting rather used to having my room fluxuate between 73 and 85 degrees (in the seventies at night), so I’m sure when I get back I’ll be fighting over the thermostat with Dad. Also, there’s no ice in drinks, and unless refrigeration is necessary for preservation, drinks are usually room temperature (namely water). Once again, not really a big deal. I only break down and buy a cold drink when I’ve been walking in the heat for a couple of hours. This Saturday, after wandering around for five hours, I decided that I wanted apple juice, but what I ended up accidentally buying was some nasty “apple flavored” soda. Yuck.

¿Que Onda, Guero?

My schedule here is as follows:
Desayuno (breakfast) – 8 AM
Clase de gramática (grammar class) – 9 AM – 12 PM
Hora de conversación (conversation hour) – 12 PM – 1 PM
Intercambio exchange (Oaxacan conversation partner) – 1 PM – 2 PM
Clase de baile (salsa class) – 3:30 PM – 5:30 PM
I usually wander around town a bit, after mi intercambio or after salsa class. Then I do my homework and go to sleep. Last night I let my hair down a bit and watched Los Simpsons en español. Anyhow, It's weird that the 50+ year old students en mi casa are out until all hours of the night drinking mezcal, while the 19 year old party animal is early to bed.

There are two things I try to do every other day: shower and blog – but obviously that’s not working out. I started typing this up yesterday, but my battery died before I could get it posted. I am showering every other day, though. It is the rainy season here in Oaxaca, but families still have to pay to have water delivered to them and I don’t want to be wasteful. And no, I haven’t been drinking “the water”. I get a small pitcher of water in my room each day for drinking, brushing my teeth, etc. Who puts this water in my room, you ask? Marta, the housemaid. Yeah – weird. She even makes my bed and yesterday she folded my pajama pants too… it’s nice but it sort of makes me uncomfortable.

I have a nalgene bottle that I generally drink water from, but this week I’ve bought a few drinks in plastic and glass bottles. If you know me, then you know that it would be impossible for me to throw these away. It would physically hurt me to place these recyclable objects in a trashcan and therefore en route to a landfill. Yesterday I asked both my maestra (teacher), Monezerrat, and my intercambio partner, Paula, where I could recycle things in Oaxaca. Their responses were the same, and it comepletely broke my heart. There are NO recycling facilities in Oaxaca. None. Hay nada. People know what recycling is, but all they really know is that they are unable to do it. I’ve used three botellas (bottles) since I’ve been here – two plastic and one glass – and if I can help it I’m not going to use anymore. This saves my conscience but doesn’t quite solve the problem. So today I was walking to the Zocalo (the big cathedral and town square) to take pictures and check out the market, when I noticed outside of a tienda (store), a clear plastic bag with a sign connected to it that said something along the lines of “please rinse out your plastic bottles and place them here. Help the environment. Thank you for reusing and recycling!” I was so excited that I went straight into the store and started talking to the woman in broken Spanish about recycling in Oaxaca. Her name is Martha Davila Padilla, and she owns a small clothing store on Quintana Roo where she does custom embroidery for school sports teams, company uniforms, etc. She was playing really cool Mexican indie rock, and did my mention she gave me the names and addresses of all the recycling facilities she knew of in this area? She’s like mi nueva mejor amiga para siempre (my new BFF). Anyway, I really needed that pick me up, so I’m glad I met her.

Speaking of pick-me-ups, I made it through a week of school! On Monday I’m going to La Guelaguetza (a HUGE annual dance festival in Oaxaca – we’re talking Bonnaroo size – 80,000 people in one place) and on Tuesday I’ll be advancing to a new grammar class. So today decided to treat myself to some helado (ice cream)! The food here is muy sabrosa (very flavorful), but honestly, I’d kill for a PBJ and some chocolate milk.

There’s much more to share, but I’ll post it later. Tune in next week for the premiere edition of “Stuff Mexicans Like," plus complete details of La Guelaguetza.

Takeoffs and Landings

I'm sitting on the patio at the ICO (Instituto Cultural de Oaxaca, pronounced "eeko"), where the free wireless is slow, yet steady. I'm watching the salsa class which is taking place on the roof of the main building and wondering how they got so many dudes in that class – we only have three. I didn't really want to take la clase de baile (dance class) until the last week (workshop classes last 2 weeks each. in my five weeks I will have the opportunity to take 2 full courses and 1 week of a seperate course), but I'm so glad I ended up in there and I will probably take it again that last week to refresh my memory before heading home.
Anyhow, I arrived here Sunday around 4:30 PM (I'm still in Central time) and took a taxi to the house. Rene met me there and showed me to my room, which has a SPECTACULAR view of the mountains just north of the city. I turned in early that night (I had only slept one hour the night before) and woke up to a completely vegetarian breakfast of frutas y pan (bread and fruit) native to Oaxaca. There are 3 other students living with the Rodriguez family: Kevin (de Texas), Carol (de Nueva York, es vegetariana tambien), y John (de California). I am byfar the youngest person in my homestay and in my grammar class, but there is one little dude in my salsa class that looks about 15 or 16 (and he’s an awful dancer) and my intercambio partner (local Oaxacan conversation partner) is 14. Her name is Paula and she is a student en la escuela secondaria (high school) here in Oaxaca. She is also an avid volleyball player as well as a very patient conversation partner.
The weather here has been awesome. The first day I was out taking pictures of una iglesia (a church) and el parque de Juarez (Juarez park, named for Benito) and it started raining fucking buckets on me. It is the rainy season here in Oaxaca (July-October) , but rain usually comes in the evenings. It is warm, but there are always clouds and a breeze, though yesterday I walked to una papeleria (literally paper store, though they carry all sorts of school supplies) to buy un cuaderno y unas fichas (a notebook and index cards) and then went straight to salsa class and got really sweaty. I should also mention that our salsa class takes place on the side of the institute nearest the bus stop. There is a clay wall surrounding the institute, but in this particular section there is an iron gate, so anyone at the bus stop gets to laugh and point at all the gringos who can’t dance. Yesterday un payaso (a clown) stopped by to watch for a couple of minutes. My dance partner told me that he had also been there last week! That’s almost as weird as seeing Ronald McDonald riding a bike through West Chicago at 2 AM… which also happened to me this week. Seriously, ask my mom.

I’ll have to share more later, but my battery is about to die and it’s almost time for salsa class. Thank you to everyone who came to my going away fiesta – it was so much fun and your gifts were so freaking thoughtful. I can’t wait to see you all again in August! Hasta luego!

p.s. - pictures are on facebook - i'm working on the flickr thing for you non-facebook folks, but i've been really busy. i'll get it eventually.