Top Ten

The last several weeks have been so filled with work, study, and experience that I've found it difficult to synthesize everything, to boil all my new experiences down into an entertaining series of brilliantly-worded, charming, or otherwise amusing posts updating friends and family on my life in Mexico. My experiences have run from the comical (see my posts on transportation) to the humbling (pyramids and volcanoes will do that to one) to the slightly sketchy (a bikini wax in a dank room with a woman who doesn't speak English, lying on a cot staring up at what I swear was a penis-shaped watermark on the ceiling as a stranger rips my hair out by the root) to the just plain crazy (singing "Imagine" in the Zócalo, or main plaza, in Puebla with a Mexican Beatles cover band--complete with Beatles haircuts--or dancing until 3am in a rhumba club with a party of lesbians, or countless other moments that, when recounted, sound fictional or, at the very least, greatly embellished). Anyway, over the past week, I have cobbled together a list of ten of my favorite experiences thus far:
10. Surviving the Combi.
I've written about the Combi already--pimped out vans that operate as some mix between a taxi and a bus and driving through the streets of Mexico like a bat outta hell.  Each Combi has a number on it to identify its route, and it has a list of popular destinations, like the mall and the major grocery stores.  Combi routes are not published, though, or adequately advertised, so you have to either know someone who knows which Combi route to take to get somewhere, or you have to learn through experience.  I've done a fair share of the latter.  We got on a Combi that was just finishing its route, so we rode to Headquarters, where we then switched vans for a new driver and proceeded to drive through back alleys and dirt roads to the Centro, or main marketplace of Tehuacan, battling Mexican traffic (pedestrian and motorized).  That particular trip is usually a nine minute ride, but because we caught the Combi at the wrong time, it took 45 minutes; we could have walked there faster.  On another occasion, we got on a Combi that had to pass through the mercado del Purisima, or the major covered market.  On Saturdays Purisima is a popular destination, and to pass through, Combis must enter a slow-moving line that inches forward for two or three blocks before entering the Centro to inch forward through busy Saturday traffic (complete with honking horns, yelling people, and angrily flapping chickens).  This particular trip should have taken less than five minutes, but took about half an hour.  We weren't in any sort of hurry, but it was fairly painful to be in an un-airconditioned van in the middle of an eighty-degree day in Mexico.  Nevertheless, it makes for a great Combi story (which everyone must have) and adds to my personal pride in having survived this singular mode of transportation.
9. Sunshine:
This is silly and shallow and it contributes to my chances of developing skin cancer, but I cannot help it.  After over twenty years with cold, dreary, depressing winters full of snow, ice, and overcast skies, I can't help but absolutely delight in every blissfully warm day here.  I positively revel in every drop of sunshine.  Each report of snow, ice, frost, etc. makes me more and more convinced that I'll never spend another winter in the Pacific Northwest again.
8. Self Progress:
When I started this blog, just over a year ago, I was searching for...something.  I felt like an experimental recipe that isn't quite right--something was missing but I just couldn't put my finger on what it was.  Here in Tehuacan I am still searching, but I feel more complete somehow.  To continue the analogy, I've added some spice to the recipe (maybe some chili or canela) and am closer to finding that missing ingredient.
7. The Novelty of Being Foreign:
I am what I like to call “ambiguously ethnic”. My hair and skin tone hint at a Latin background, but with my mother's fair features showing a more dominant presence over the years (lighter eyes, freckles, auburn highlights in my hair, etc.) my heritage is not obvious.  In Mexico this ambiguity makes me something of a question mark.  I'm not as distinctly foreign as my roommates with their blond hair and fair skin, but nor do I look as though I am native to the area.  When I speak, of course, I instantly mark myself as foreign, as English is not generally spoken in Tehuacan, and my Spanish still has a decidedly Italian pronunciation.  As I've said before, Tehuacan is not a popular tourist destination, so foreigners are a rare sight.  Because my group of friends includes several blondes with fair skin and light eyes, we are subject to a lot of curious glances and outright stares.  While this can be annoying and uncomfortable, it has also had its benefits.  At a local fish restaurant, we were approached by the owner (who spoke English) and we're told about house specialties that weren't listed on the menu. (sidenote: we tried the specialty he recommended, a full fish rubbed with spices and grilled over a charcoal fire and served with fresh corn tortillas. Amazing.)  We have also been taken care of as the hapless tourists that we are.  During our first trip to Puebla and Cholula, it quickly became apparent that we didn't know where to go to see the great pyramid in Cholula, but fortunately the passengers and the bus driver decided to take care of us, alerting us to our stop and directing us where to go.  We are also treated as celebrities from time to time.  Because foreigners are less common in Tehuacan, we are something of a novelty.  Our night at one of the local dance clubs was peppered with requests for photos so the club could post pics of the Americans and Brits dancing in the club.  Each picture earned a round of free drinks, and the evening ended with a VIP card treating us to 50 percent off all future nights.  If this is how the real celebs party in LA and Vegas, I can see the allure.
6. History: 
While I don't consider myself an historian, I am a huge history nerd and, for me, it is an absolute thrill to be surrounded by history.  I love old buildings, art and culture, and practically get a contact high when I visit historic sites.  I love Idaho and Oregon, and to be fair, there are some very cool sites along the Oregon Trail in the areas in which I have lived, but it isn't enough for me.  I have always preferred the East Coast for my American history; Colonial Williamsburg and Monticello are about as close to my idea of American History Mecca as I can think of.  But I have always bemoaned my country’s lack of historical sites.  I delight, therefore, in the fact that the city of Tehuacan is currently celebrating the anniversary of its independence from Spain, which was purchased in 1660.  On an almost daily basis, I walk past buildings that date back to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.  To put this into perspective, my own beloved hometown of Blackfoot just recently celebrated it's centennial....  And Tehuacan is merely the tip of the iceberg, paling in comparison to Puebla and Cholula.  When I visit Puebla this weekend, I'll be staying in a hotel whose architecture dates back to  the mid-sixteenth century and I'll be visiting the pyramids in Cholula, whose origins reach back to the third century. It is a truly incredible experience to wander among artifacts older than the common era and taste foods and drinks that are prepared today in the exact same way that they’ve been prepared for centuries.  When I was in grad school, I studied history, but in Mexico I have had the opportunity to see history, to touch, smell, and taste it.
5. Food in General:
As I no doubt made obvious in my earlier post, I am loving the food in Mexico.  I’ve had dishes that originated in my own state of Puebla, like Poblano mole (Poblano means ”from Puebla”) and cemitas, a huge sandwich served on a round roll with avocado, carne arabe, and mucho mucho quesillo.  I've had typical Mexican fare, like tacos and tostadas, tamales, and real enchiladas.  And I've had odd combinations of food, like yesterday's meal: cooked corn mixed with mayonnaise, chili, and queso, purchased from a woman from a neighboring pueblito, in town for the month’s cultural festival.  I've even sampled some of the local drink options, ranging from the traditional (the original chocolate drink, a foamy chocolate drink with hints of vainilla y canela, made in the same fashion now as it has been made for centuries) to to popular (like micheladas, a drink I'd had before in college--beer with clamato and lime--but in Tehuacan they add fruit favors like piña or tamarindo...not my favorite, but still drinkable), and the truly strange (also known as a camarina, beer with clamato, chile, and other salty spices, with shrimp thrown in for truly odd effect.  It's disturbingly tasty.)  I have, I admit, refrained from some delicacies, like mole de panza (cooked goat's stomach served in a red broth and reputedly tasting as horrendous as it sounds) or chapolines, dehydrated crickets doused in spices and salt and reportedly quite similar to chicken or popcorn.  On the whole, though, I am loving the cuisine and the regular adventure of ordering from a foreign menu and never being entirely sure what I'll be getting.  And as much as I entirely despise it, I'm afraid I'll become one of those people who, having traveled abroad, comes back to the States as something of a food snob.  
4. Fresh Produce:
This is embarrassing to admit, particularly after spending three years in the locavore’s haven that is Eugene, but I've never really cared all that much for fresh produce.  Don't get me wrong, I do adore fresh basil and mozzarella on a grilled pizza, and fresh strawberries from the farm is one of my favorite aspects of being at home in the summers, but I've never really actively sought out fresh produce at the grocery store.  Here in Tehuacan, though, I've had to change and adapt my tastes.  Our apartment doesn't have an oven (it blew up last semester. Really.) and our gas stove has two settings--hot and burning hot--so cooking is an adventure to say the least.  Add to that the fact that our kitchen contains two frying pans, two sauce pots, and a bottle of ketchup, and we found ourselves loathe to cook.  As I've written before, we spent our first few weeks at Abraham’s indulging in Argentine chorizo quesadillas and chiztorro cemitas.  For the past few weeks, though, we've had Spring Break in mind and thus decided that cooking our meals was both less expensive and less fattening.  Enter: Fruit Lady.  Sadly, we don't actually know her name, but she operates a fruit and vegetable stand next to Abraham’s.  She carries a fairly wide range of fresh produce for impossibly low prices.  This evening I bought two bananas and five aguacates (avocados) for 18 pesos.  Our apartment is rarely (if ever) without fresh avocados, limes, and bananas.  We have also come to fully embrace the nearby panaderia, or bakery.  Less than a block away, the bakery carries a delightful assortment of breads, rolls, muffins and other pastries.  Yesterday morning I bought six (fresh from the oven) croissants, a doughnut, and a flaky custard-filled pastry for 23 pesos.  I now live for my morning coffee and banana, my afternoon yoghurt with banana and pastry, and my vegetarian dinners (tonight's was corn tortillas with fresh guacamole, rice, and stir fried bell peppers, tomatillos, zucchini, and spinach. In other words, amazingness).  I cringe at the thought of going back to the States, where I'll pay a dollar for one avocado.
3. Remembering that I'm in Mexico.
Because so much of my day is spent in daily routine, I have absorbed and processed many of my daily interactions and daily occurrences.  They are so familiar at this point that they no longer seem foreign to me.  So it isn't until I do something out of the norm that I actually stop and realize, ”Oh holy #*%*! I'm in MEXICO.”  This has happened several times, but each time it does, I feel this rush of emotions--the cold of shock, the warmth of happiness, and the thrill of adventure--and I marvel anew at the fact that not only am I IN a foreign country, but I'm living and thriving in said country.  It's a pretty awesome experience (awesome in its true definition, meaning that it fills me with awe each time) and I feel fortunate that even after three months of living in Mexico, I can still feel the same excitement I had when I first arrived. 
2. Becoming acquainted with Mexican custom and culture:
One of the main reasons I wanted to teach abroad (instead of just traveling for an extended period of time) was that I wanted to spend a significant amount of time in one place so that I could absorb as much culture as possible.  I wanted to learn the language, but also really experience life in a foreign country, not just glimpses as I toured site after site.  In Tehuacan, I must practice my Spanish every day just to survive and operate on a daily basis.  Making my way from the junior high (where I teach in the mornings) to Heslington (where I teach in the early evenings) requires me to hail a Combi and effectively communicate with the driver.  It's not exactly a riveting conversation about the state of world affairs or the strength of the global economy, but it feels like a victory each time I successfully travel from Point A to Point B.  better than that, though, is the ability to embrace aspects of Mexican culture.  I say hello and goodbye to friends and students with a kiss to the right cheek, just like a real Mexican.  And when I enter a Combi, I greet my fellow passengers with a ”buenas tardes” like the best of them.  I still attract attention when I walk through the city streets because I am a foreigner in a very homogenous population, but I have also earned an approving nod and ”buenos dias” from many of the local shopkeepers I pass each morning.  These may seem like small things, but to me they are brilliant signs of acceptance and an indication that I am accomplishing my goal here.
1.Teaching:
 When I signed up to teach English, I did so primarily because I wanted change and adventure.  I wanted to learn and experience new things.  I expected to try new foods and local delicacies, to learn a new language, and to step outside of my comfort zone.  I thought that the greatest moments would be atop ancient pyramids or reveling in some Mexican city, but I was wrong.  One of the greatest experiences I have had is the opportunity to witness a student learn and comprehend.  When I present a new idea, concept, or word, I watch my students to gauge their understanding.  At first there's confusion and doubt as they struggle to understand what I'm saying and begin to second guess themselves.  After that comes the look of determination, a look that says, ”I will conquer this.”. Finally is the truly beautiful glow that comes with comprehension.  The shoulders lift, the spine straightens, and the smile that follows is almost magical.  After hours of struggling and frustration, that moment is both reward and motivation to keep going, both for my students and for me.  It's humbling and inspiring and addictive.