Despite my noticeable lack of book related posts in the last few months, I am actually still working my way through my list of novels. Or, at least, I am trying. Most afternoons I sneak in an hour or so as I wait for classes to resume in the afternoons (after siesta). However, in this week, la Semana Santa, I am indulging in blissful hours of reading in the sun and sand, undisturbed by children, students, teachers, or other administrative demands that come with being a teacher at a busy but small school.
As it sit in my beach chair, I can hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks on either side of our beach and the wind rustling through the palm trees. In one ear I have Bach's Prelude to Cello Suite No. 1. These factors, when combined with the now rising action of my book, Joseph Conrad's Nostromo (romance, rebellion, and the hint of betrayal), work to create a heightened sense of drama and intensity. At any moment I almost expect to see eighteenth century ships coast into this secluded cove. I can almost hear the distant hoof beats and the cries of men as they work to load the ships with carts of silver. I expect to see Nostromo himself, el capataz de Los cargadores, riding up on his impressive steed to oversee all activity with his stern and all-knowing eyes. I imagine that this is the ideal way to read this novel, and I can't imagine enjoying it more in any other setting.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
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!
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!
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Abraham's: Our Home Away From Home
Nestled in the Valley of Tehuacan, the city of Tehuacan is a large city with the feel of a small town. With a population of almost a quarter of a million citizens, Tehuacan is the second largest city in the Mexican state of Puebla. Like any city, Tehuacan has large stores and supermarkets, as well as restaurants and cafés. One of our usual cafés is La Lonja in the town center because it has open seating on the patio and free wi-fi for its patrons. Our favorite place to eat, though, is a small taqueria near our apartment. We don't actually know the name of this stand,but it's run by a man named Abraham. Abraham's is, essentially, a hole in the wall, just large enough for a flat grill and four small tables. There is a tiny cooler in one corner for sodas and fruit juices, and if we want bottled water or una cerveza, he has to send out his assistant to purchase some at a nearby shop. The food at Abraham's, though, is amazing.
We first met Abraham on our first morning in Tehuacan. We had gone out in search of a late breakfast and coffee, but, finding none, decided to try a small taqueria with a friendly proprietor. From the very beginning, Abraham was open and engaging, delighted to talk to us. Although it is the second largest city in Puebla, Tehuacan is not a popular tourist destination, particularly in January. In the nearly two weeks since we've arrived, we are the only discernible outsiders I've noticed. I think it's safe to say that, as a group, we stand out. But Abraham immediately welcomed us and told us about beautiful sights to see, gardens to visit, and where to find the best seafood. By the end of our first meal (a chorizo enchilada burrito with Abraham's super spicy red salsa), I adored this gravelly-voiced cook and his quiet assistant.
Since our first meal, we have returned almost nightly. After our second visit we were greeted as old friends and, before departing for the evening, we were told what the next night’s specialty would be. By our third visit, we had stopped consulting the menu; instead, we walk in, chat for a moment, then ask what's good tonight. In this way we have been to treated to some truly amazing meals that we might never have known to order on our own.
Our nightly fare so far:
Sunday night, after a day of extensive lesson planning and more than a little frustration, we headed to Abraham’s seeking the comfort and warm welcome of friendship and food. When we discovered that he was not there and that we would now have to fend for ourselves, we turned away like heartbroken children abandoned by papa. Fortunately, though, Abraham was waiting for us last night, with rejuvenating beverages and the culinary delight that is carne marinada. I may be speaking prematurely, but I expect that as we trek home tonight at 8:30, after a full day of teaching and prepping, we'll have a barely cursory consultation before heading to Abraham’s for dinner again.
We first met Abraham on our first morning in Tehuacan. We had gone out in search of a late breakfast and coffee, but, finding none, decided to try a small taqueria with a friendly proprietor. From the very beginning, Abraham was open and engaging, delighted to talk to us. Although it is the second largest city in Puebla, Tehuacan is not a popular tourist destination, particularly in January. In the nearly two weeks since we've arrived, we are the only discernible outsiders I've noticed. I think it's safe to say that, as a group, we stand out. But Abraham immediately welcomed us and told us about beautiful sights to see, gardens to visit, and where to find the best seafood. By the end of our first meal (a chorizo enchilada burrito with Abraham's super spicy red salsa), I adored this gravelly-voiced cook and his quiet assistant.
Since our first meal, we have returned almost nightly. After our second visit we were greeted as old friends and, before departing for the evening, we were told what the next night’s specialty would be. By our third visit, we had stopped consulting the menu; instead, we walk in, chat for a moment, then ask what's good tonight. In this way we have been to treated to some truly amazing meals that we might never have known to order on our own.
Our nightly fare so far:
Visits Number 1 and 2: Enchilada burrito. We've learned that enchilada roughly means “in chili,” so an enchilada burrito is cooked with chilis, rather than the enchiladas with red or green sauce that are common in the United States.Since we have arrived we have made several friends within the institute and through students and host families. Abraham’s is our first independent friendship. His taqueria has a television, so as we eat, he often educates us on news items and cultural tidbits, such as La Dia de Reyes. This is the day of the Three Kings, when we celebrate the Wise Men reaching the baby Jesus. This is the day when children get their presents, rather than on Christmas. La Dia de Reyes is also celebrated with a cake, Rosca de Reyes, which is a pastry/cake hybrid topped with candied fruits and has a small baby Jesus hidden within, much like a King Cake. According to Abraham, whoever finds the baby must host the next party. He also has internet, and as he tells us about the beaches we need to visit, he has his assistant pull up pictures for us to see and, last night, they looked up bus and plane ticket rates.
Visit Number 3: Argentine Chorizo in a quesadilla; this was some of the most flavorful chorizo I had ever encountered before.
Visit Number 4: Burritos with local chorizo and meats, paired with Oaxaca cheese. Oaxaca cheese is a local favorite and looks a bit like string cheese, but tastes ten times fresher and better. I believe Abraham purchases his cheese from a local mercado, so it is incredibly fresh and, delightfully local.
Visit Number 5: Alambre. Alambre is a popular dish in Tehuacan, much like a stir fry or fajitas, but with an emphasis on meats and cheese. For the five of us, Abraham recommended two plates of alambre with a constant influx of flour tortillas. We had local ham, chorizo, and beef delicately grilled with bell peppers, onions, and Oaxaca cheese melted on top. It was accompanied by fresh avocado and tomato slices and wedges of lime, and by the end we were groaning with over-indulgence and pleasure. As a final treat, Abraham made a small sample of “carne marinada,” beef grilled in pineapple juice, with grilled pineapple and Oaxaca cheese. Amazing.
Last night, after an absence of three days in which we fended for ourselves, we returned to have the Carne Marinada in burrito form. Our general consensus is that Abraham outdoes himself each evening.
Sunday night, after a day of extensive lesson planning and more than a little frustration, we headed to Abraham’s seeking the comfort and warm welcome of friendship and food. When we discovered that he was not there and that we would now have to fend for ourselves, we turned away like heartbroken children abandoned by papa. Fortunately, though, Abraham was waiting for us last night, with rejuvenating beverages and the culinary delight that is carne marinada. I may be speaking prematurely, but I expect that as we trek home tonight at 8:30, after a full day of teaching and prepping, we'll have a barely cursory consultation before heading to Abraham’s for dinner again.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Bienvenido a Mexico
In the months following my last post on Emma, I have attempted to write numerous times, only to be thwarted by numerous setbacks: my laptop finally stopped recognizing the Internet, so I literally could not post; I became so absorbed in Jeffrey Eugenides’ The Marriage Plot that I completely abandoned my latest novel, Conrad’s Nostromo; I was suddenly packing to move from Eugene back to Blackfoot and had no time to sit down and write a thoughtful post; I was so busy studying Spanish and reveling in the delights of being home that I didn't have time to write... The list could go on, but underneath each of these reasons or excuses was the plain truth that I am, for once, at a loss for words and have been since the day that I signed on to temporarily move to Mexico.
At first I intended to write about how exciting this new change would be, and how deliciously relevant my book choice was--Nostromo is not only set in a Spanish speaking country and full of Spanish-speaking characters, but the title character is Italian. The novel itself blends South American history with Italian, peppering character dialogue with a curious mix of English, Spanish, and Italian. After signing with the HELP! Organization, this intersection of cultures in my life and in my book seemed serendipitous to say the least. Each time I sat down to write, though, words failed me and soon enough some excuse or distraction presented itself and off I went.
After I moved home, again I had ideas of filling my blog with pictures of home, of my sweet Carlee, of my new kitty friend Gracie, and all the beautiful elements that make my parents’ house such a wonderful escape. But again there were distractions--Carlee, Gracie, and all those elements of home that needed attention one last time before I left for Mexico. My blog languished as, again, the proper words seemed to fail me.
Now, however, I am in Mexico and my whole world is teeming with words. Instead of struggling over what to write, I am trying to figure out how to fit the adventures of each day into a readable post. I've been here less than a week and already I've made several new friends, tried more interesting dishes than ever before, and embarrassed myself on a regular basis and I'm loving it all. I've seen cockroaches (live and dead), carried on (small) conversations in Spanish with some of the locals, befriended a waiter at a bar and the owner and cook of a delicious taqueria, and I've learned how to efficiently brush my teeth with bottled water. Our apartment has been without power for over a day now, and our water stopped working this morning. As I write this, one roommate is doing crosswords by candlelight while another is washing up via waterbottles and a teacup. It seems like my companions and I have had an adventure dictated by Murphy’s Law thus far, but despite it all, I am nothing short of euphoric at the moment.
I could wax on longer over the amazing effects of this trip thus far, but suffice to say that this trip has been in no way what I expected, and for that I am grateful. And I hope that, as this trip continues, I continue to be surprised by myself and by Mexico.
At first I intended to write about how exciting this new change would be, and how deliciously relevant my book choice was--Nostromo is not only set in a Spanish speaking country and full of Spanish-speaking characters, but the title character is Italian. The novel itself blends South American history with Italian, peppering character dialogue with a curious mix of English, Spanish, and Italian. After signing with the HELP! Organization, this intersection of cultures in my life and in my book seemed serendipitous to say the least. Each time I sat down to write, though, words failed me and soon enough some excuse or distraction presented itself and off I went.
After I moved home, again I had ideas of filling my blog with pictures of home, of my sweet Carlee, of my new kitty friend Gracie, and all the beautiful elements that make my parents’ house such a wonderful escape. But again there were distractions--Carlee, Gracie, and all those elements of home that needed attention one last time before I left for Mexico. My blog languished as, again, the proper words seemed to fail me.
Now, however, I am in Mexico and my whole world is teeming with words. Instead of struggling over what to write, I am trying to figure out how to fit the adventures of each day into a readable post. I've been here less than a week and already I've made several new friends, tried more interesting dishes than ever before, and embarrassed myself on a regular basis and I'm loving it all. I've seen cockroaches (live and dead), carried on (small) conversations in Spanish with some of the locals, befriended a waiter at a bar and the owner and cook of a delicious taqueria, and I've learned how to efficiently brush my teeth with bottled water. Our apartment has been without power for over a day now, and our water stopped working this morning. As I write this, one roommate is doing crosswords by candlelight while another is washing up via waterbottles and a teacup. It seems like my companions and I have had an adventure dictated by Murphy’s Law thus far, but despite it all, I am nothing short of euphoric at the moment.
I could wax on longer over the amazing effects of this trip thus far, but suffice to say that this trip has been in no way what I expected, and for that I am grateful. And I hope that, as this trip continues, I continue to be surprised by myself and by Mexico.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Finishing Emma
I finally finished Emma and I have to say that in the end, despite my dubiousness and reluctance, she won me over, as she must have so many others. Her serious, honest, and rather unflinching reflection and personal reform reached me as her so-called charity and charms could not. And, I admit, like so many others, I have a decided soft-spot for Jane Austen’s leading men. Mr. Darcy is, of course, my favorite, but Mr. George Knightley runs a very close second (particularly if I envision him as he was portrayed by Jeremy Northam, though I am eager to see Jonny Lee Miller’s version of Mr. Knightley as he cut quite a fine figure as Edmund Bertram in the film version of Mansfield Park).
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| He's just swoon-worthy as the stern but affectionate (and oh- so-correct) Mr. Knightley... |
As I said in my earlier posts, I didn’t like Emma for the majority of the novel. This doesn’t mean, however, that I disliked the novel as a whole; in fact, the language was beautiful and Austen did an accurate job creating a small, rural community with its quirks and its charming characters. But I was overwhelmingly repelled by Emma herself, as Austen intended us to be. When she created Emma, Austen created a character that no one but she herself would truly like. I so disliked Emma as a character that I found it hard to invest myself entirely in the novel, unlike my experiences with previous novels. In the last quarter of the novel, though, Emma reforms. In a moment of childish insensitivity, she insults an old friend and, upon receiving harsh criticism from Mr. Knightley, examines her actions and attitudes and vows to change. After she reforms Emma becomes a likeable character. Her honest reflection forces her to admit her own shortcomings and petty actions and she begins to redeem herself.
Up to this point in the novel, I found myself preferring the various film adaptations of the story because Emma was more likeable and the story flowed better; after her reform, though, the entire novel gets better than any film adaptation. Emma finally moves beyond her petty jealousy of Jane Fairfax and the two form a friendship, a relationship upon which none of the adaptations elaborate. Jane Fairfax on the whole becomes a much better developed character on the page than she does as a living, breathing human being on screen. Furthermore, the reader gets a better explanation and justification of Frank Churchill’s actions than the films offer. Frank was a character whom, like Emma, I found it hard to like; ultimately, though, he drops his artifice to reveal his true character. By embracing his faults and seeking redemption from those he loves, Frank becomes a better man and a much more likeable character. I appreciated this effort by Austen, and I found the climax and denouement much more gratifying than the previous three-quarters of the novel.
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| I'd say I wonder what Emma would be like were she to live in the present, but I honestly think she would be something very close to Clueless' Cher |
While I appreciated the other characters and the caricatures of English society they represented, in the end I am most intrigued by Emma as a character. Throughout most of the novel, Emma’s one redeeming quality is her loyalty to those she loves, particularly her ever-suffering father. The unwavering attention to Mr. Woodhouse’s pains and worries would be a credit to any person, but particularly to the spoiled and self-centered Emma. Emma is so devoted to her father’s care that she decides herself against marriage because it would take her away from her father’s house and would cause him daily distress.
More than Emma’s loyalty to her father, though, I find her attitude towards her station in life fascinating. Unlike the Bennett sisters of Pride & Prejudice, Emma does not need to marry to secure her station in life. She flirts with the idea of falling in love with Frank Churchill, but it is more from a childish desire for romance and intrigue than a genuine desire for love and comfort in the future. Emma did not feel the same pressures that Austen’s other female characters would have encountered. This level of comfort, in fact, is what defines Emma is crucial aspects because it allows her to spend her days in relative ease and, because she did not paint or sing or play music particularly well, Emma constantly finds herself bored. She tries to compensate for this by involving herself with charity work, visiting the less fortunate families in the neighborhood, but charity work can only distract one so far. This boredom is what induces Emma to take an interest in Harriet Smith. Austen refers to this boredom offhand, referring to Emma’s moods being dictated by inclement weather and her restlessness at being cooped up inside, clearly not intending for this to be a dominant facet of the story. Emma would have been a much different character, though, had she been born in a different class or as part of a later generation. Had she been born to a lower class, Emma’s time would have been consumed with housekeeping, or working to better herself so that she could become a governess. Had she been born a few generations later, she could have become an educated Bluestocking or a suffragette or other reformer and doer of good deeds. But as she was born into the gentry during the reign of King George III, she was doomed to a life of constantly visiting the same few families and bestowing her attentions on those she deems worthy.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Letters to Home, Week Two
Day 5, Tuesday, September 27:
Finished The Game today. Am left with a strong desire to dress in a silken sari, drink chai tea, and eat red curry, butter chicken, and some garlic naan. Also feeling the need to read Kipling’s Kim now. Maybe after I finish my book project.
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| Fall colors are starting to appear in Eugene |
Day 7, Thursday, September 29:
My manager “introduced” me to “Into the Mystic.” I got the distinct impression that he thought I’d never heard of Van Morrison. It was so hilarious that I just let it slide while I giggled to myself. Spent my last half hour listening to a Van Morrison play list that I made, pretending that instead of sitting at my desk in the office, that I was stretched out in our old living room on that horrid green carpet, the sun shining through the windows, and Van playing over the stereo. The music made me feel almost as if I would open my eyes and see you come around the corner, mom with a cup of tea and Ralphie with some alternative (possibly rude) lyrics in mind.
Day 9, Saturday, October 1:
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| I had so much hair that we had to put it into two ponytails to cut it for donation |
Met Martha for brunch this morning. We went to a very Eugene café and had the most delightful Orange/Mango/Peach mimosas, I was rather tipsy after just one! Then we went down the street to the salon for my hair cut. We cut 10 ½ inches for donation, and after trimming and evening out the cut, my hair is just below chin length. It swishes when I shake my head, and is short enough for a shampoo Mohawk, which I love. It’s a pretty liberating cut, so far at least.
Day 10, Sunday, October 2:
Watched the Hollywood version of Emma last night. I was left with the following impressions:
- Jeremy Northam was born to play characters like Mr. Knightly. When I read Emma, I picture someone exactly like Northam, handsome but not devastatingly so (he’s not exactly Colin Firth/Mr. Darcy here), but elegant and a true gentleman with a stern look and a dashing air. Didn’t love Gwenyth Paltrow as Emma, I felt that Romola Garai was a much better Emma, but Jeremy Northam was perfect. Also, Toni Collette as Harriet Smith: Genius.
- I am right thus far with my impressions--Emma is much more likeable in the films than in the novel. In the film, we aren’t really privy to her every thought and judgment, as we are in the novel, and this leaves her as a much nicer and likeable character. Am hoping her personal growth in this last quarter of the novel leaves me with a better impression.
- As much as I love him, I absolutely detested Ewan McGregor as Frank Churchill, though I am unsure if this is because I so very much dislike Frank as a character or because McGregor’s wig was truly terrible.
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