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!