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.