Adapting to Life in Tehuacan

So I must start this post with an apology.  In the months preceding my move back to Idaho, and my subsequent sojourn into teaching ESL, my laptop of three years started a systematic shutdown.  The screen, which had been immobile for over a year, lost a screw and was only held together by a small binder clip; the internal cooling fan began malfunctioning; and the wi-fi worked sporadically at best.  Fortunately, my parents decided to give me a new computer for Christmas.  Together we agreed on an iPad2 and, given my laptops shortcomings, I opted to bring only the iPad to Mexico.  For my day-to-day business, the iPad is perfect; I can show short movie clips, play songs, and consult my online dictionary quickly and effectively.  It also allows me to Skype easily with friends and family. In short, I'm in love with it.  For some reason, though, I cannot upload photos to my blog from my iPad.  So, while I promised pictures on this blog, and, quite frankly, I abhor the look of pages and pages of solo type (it reminds me too much of my all-too-recent stint in grad school), I'm afraid I cannot keep my promise.  Fortunately, though, my friends upload pictures with regularity, so Facebook is routinely updated with the latest photos of our adventures and mishaps.  Also, my friend and comrade-in-arms, Betsy, maintains a wonderful blog which I recommend. Betsy's blog, Livin La Vida Loca, can be found here. So I apologize for the lack of color and life on my blog for the next few months.

And now for an update.  In the past month, I have settled into life in Tehuacan and into my life as “Teacher.”
1. I started private Spanish lessons and am doing fairly well thus far.  I embarrass myself almost daily, but I'm learning.  Most effective are the situations where no one is there to translate and I am left to fend for myself in conversation.  The owner of our neighborhood fruit stand is even helping me with the names of produce.  This all makes me admire my students' progress in a foreign language so much more. 

2. I am becoming a transportation pro.  In Mexico walking is a demanding activity, requiring simultaneous awareness of the sidewalks’ cracks/dips/rises/etc. and the flow of traffic (pedestrian, cyclist, and motorist on both sidewalk and street), all the while maintaining a general idea of direction.  As I learned in Italy, stop signs and speed limits are merely suggestions; cars only stop at a stop sign if a car is entering the intersection from the crossing road, and vehicles fly by at frightening speeds, paying little to no regard to crossing pedestrians.  
Buses in Mexico are quite different than the organized and well-managed buses I knew in Oregon.  Regular buses here drive at harrowing speeds and do not stop at predetermined stops.  A passenger must hail the bus, pay whenever it's convenient, and keep a vigilant eye out for her stop.  To escape (or exit), the passenger must stand up approximately one block before the desired stop, run to the front of the bus, and request to be let off at the corner (“batman in la esquina, por favor”).  This works to varying degrees, depending on the day, traffic, and the driver’s mood.  The other mode of public transport is a combi, a glorified van outfitted to cram in as many passengers as possible.  Like buses, combos are hailed and require constant vigilance because the combis do not have set routes and may not always take the passenger to her desired destination.  Surviving a combi ride is generally an accomplishment and a mark of pride.  
Finally there are taxis, which only differ from their American cousins in capacity limitations.  Saturday night we squeezed five people into the backseat of a compact car with a sixth in the front seat next to the cab driver.  The drive was cramped (and a bit stinky), but deemed a success all around.  I am proud to announce that not only have I survived each mode of transportation, but I've even schooled some of my friends in the art of bus and combi riding.  Next up: how to determine the best menu items.

3. I have passed as a local at least once.  A little girl heard my roommate and I talking and shyly asked where I had learned English.  She seemed surprised when I answered “en los estados unidos” and that I was, in fact, American.  Since then, I have so casually said “buenas tardes” and “hasta luego” to my fellow combi riders after requesting to exit that I think I passed as a local.  This delights me as I am working to drop my American/Italian pronunciation of my new Spanish vocabulary.

My friends and I went to Puebla, the capitol city of the state of Puebla, the state I'm living in.  I will be posting a full description of our trip soon!