31/10/10

I'm back in Oaxaca, which is supposedly where I'm studying, though I haven't been spending much time here these days. Between trips to DF, the beach at Huatulco, and the nearby mostly indigenous town Teotitlan, this is the first weekend in 5 weeks that I've been here. It's nice to be back. I was starting to forget what normal weekends are like here! Not that this is a normal weekend, exactly. We're smack in the middle of Muertos celebrations (that's Day of the Dead for you cuadros who don't know), so it's been pretty crazy here. But more on that later. Here's what I've been up to the past few weeks:

El DF, Round II:

Hanging out with fellow rubio
and Utahn Pabio O'Higgins in
the Public Education building

Two weekends ago I made a return trip to DF with a few friends to do some of the things we were unable to during our trip with Witness for Peace. Mostly, that meant redeeming ourselves from all of art failures the first time around. We were only there for three days, so that meant packing in a lot, but with lots of ganas and our new mastery of the metro system, we were able to do pretty much everything we were hoping to do. Our first day there we went to the Palacio Nacional (the Mexican equivalent of the White House) and the Secretaria de Educación Pública, both of which house some awesome murals (mostly Rivera, some Siquerios). The Public Education building was cool because literally every square inch of the three floors of wall space facing the giant inside courtyard is covered with Diego's paintings. The paintings reflect the themes of social reform dealing with education, indigenous rights and land appropriation that surged during the Mexican Revolution, which began about a decade before the work was commissioned. In the Palacio Nacional, we got to see one of Diego's most famous works, The history of Mexico: From the Conquest to the future. It is a HUGE painting that surrounds the main staircase in the Palacio, depicting exactly what the name suggests. I can't express how amazing it was to see in person, along with all the other murals we witnessed. In our visit to the Palacio we were also subjected to the strangest propaganda film I have ever seen. After passing security but before being released to explore on our own, we were herded into a room with other visitors that was made up of five giant projection screens on the four walls and the ceiling. We were locked in the room, and shown a five minute film with patriotic images from the past and present set to an intense, chanting beat (I think it was supposed to invoke thoughts of Aztec ritual, though I'm not quite sure. Maybe just intimidate us?). Becca asked her host dad about it afterwards, because we thought it was so bizarre, and after laughing he told her that the Mexican government has to invent ways to instill la patria, since they really have nothing to be proud of. More than a bit cynical, if you ask me, but still pretty funny.

Diego in the Palacio Nacional

The next day we went to Chapultepec, which is a giant park that houses a bunch of national museums. We decided to go to the Castillo de Chapultepec, a giant castle used by both Maximiliano and Porfirio Díaz back in the day that is now home to the national history museum. It was a long walk up a winding hill, and with all the tourists, music, and waiting lines with the view of the giant castle tempting us in the distance, I was reminded more than a little of Disneyland. The castle itself was stunning. I've never before been in a place so huge or so luxurious, I can't imagine living there! Staring off the balcony that overlooks Mexico City, I reflected on the contradictions that so often characterize Mexico. It's hard to believe that a place so beautiful and extravagant can exist in a city that is so dirty and slummy in some places. That's actually one of the things Díaz was criticized for most during his dictatorship (ok - while he didn't build the castle he did live there, and I think it serves as a pretty good symbol for his reign during the Porfiriato): while he helped modernize Mexico in many ways and commissioned a lot of really cool infrastructure projects, he neglected the well being of the masses, and tons of people lived in poverty. The same contradiction exists in Mexico today; while the daily minimum wage is less than the equivalent of five American dollars, the country is also home to Carlos Slim, the wealthiest man in the world. But I digress from my trip... 

Later that day, we finally got to go to the house where Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera lived! While there weren't too many of her actual works there, it was cool to see her personal belongings and living space. There was also a neat photo exhibition - not sure if the photos belonged to Frida or if they were just visiting - with photos by the likes of Tina Modotti and Manuel Álvarez Bravo, some of my favorite photographers. For our last big stop in DF, we tried to go to the Palacio de Bellas Artes (one of Porfirio's cool projects I mentioned earlier), which houses works by some of the most famous Mexican artists, including the recreation of Man, Creator of the Universe, one of Diego's other most famous murals that I was really hoping to see. Unfortunately, the Palacio was closed for what looked like the setup for a concert, so I missed out for the third attempt in a row. Ah well, besides that our trip was quite successful.

Best damn tacos in the world!

The final, and debatably most important element of our trip? The street tacos. During our first trip to DF, we happened upon a taco stand that truly changed our lives called Taqueria el Progreso. I'm not sure how many of you are Food Network fans, but they put on a program called "The Best Thing I Ever Ate," in which famous chefs talk about the best [fill in the blank] they have ever eaten. If I were a television chef, these tacos are what I would talk about. They are quite possibly the best thing I have ever eaten, period. They are super hot corn tortillas filled with delicious greasy thin-sliced "bisteak" meat. I topped mine with nopales (cactus), SPICY guacamole, and peppery potatoes. Top off your meal with a liter of horchata or a freezing glass bottle of coke to cool your mouth, and you will find yourself in taco heaven. We returned there every single day of our trip without shame, despite the many jokes and stares from the men who worked there. After long days of sight seeing from which our legs ached from walking around for hours, we didn't even mind standing in the street and eating off of water barrels while being stared at. It was, without a doubt, totally worth it.

Huatulco:
After our successful DF trip, we could hardly believe that four days later it was time for another vacation to the beach, this time with the entire group. I endured the most miserable seven hour unpaved van ride of my life that not even Dramamine could improve, but it was worth it in the end. I was super excited to go swimming at the beach, since the only beaches I've gone to in years are far too cold to swim. And that's exactly what I did for three days straight - swim, with a little lounging in the sand and piña coladas thrown in to mix things up when I got tired. Although I'm not sure I really needed a break from life and school in Oaxaca, it was certainly relaxing. Since it's the off-season for tourism, we were practically the only ones staying in our hotel (or any hotel, from the empty looks of the beaches). It was a little eerie, but mostly fun to have free run of the place. Also, our hotel rooms were air conditioned, a luxury that I had forgotten about during my time here, but welcomed with open arms as it was about 80 degrees with what felt like 1000% humidity. But since when I wasn't in the hotel room I was usually in the water, it wasn't too much of a problem. Unfortunately, on our last full day at the beach, I got a pretty terrible sunburn, which is still wreaking havoc on my poor peeling face a week later. Usually I'm pretty good with the sunscreen, but on the last day I foolishly decided to try out some of Brad's hippie "all natural" sunscreen, with disastrous results. The sunburn made the terrible 8 hour drive back home even worse, but all in all it was a very relaxing weekend.

So that's what I've been up to for the past few weeks. Sure, I guess I've also gone to class in between, but that hardly compares to bulk of my adventures. I think I need a little vacation from vacations, but I have to say that the opportunity to travel is one of my favorite parts about my stay here. Next up? Día (but really more like Semana) de los Muertos. The good times are killing me.

12/10/10

It's been a little while since I've written anything, but I think that that's a good thing. I'm finally settled in here, and my every-day stories no longer seem like disconnected anecdotes about living as a foreigner, it's just my life. I wouldn't say that the transition to this point was especially hard - I never had any of the "oh shit" moments I half-anticipated. But I can definitely tell a difference between how I feel now and my experience living here the first few weeks. It costs me a little trying to come up with what to say now, since everything seems pretty much normal, but I'll do my best to give a sketch of what I do in la vida cotidiana:

I go to school:
Gracias a Dios, our Spanish intensivo class came to an end just before we went to el DF. Four hours of grammar instruction each day became tedious quickly, not to mention that the class was painfully easy. After 60 hours of class time, I can say with confidence that I now know the difference between aun and aún, esta, ésta and está, and I am able to call people names like snob, nerd, and lame when appropriate (fresa, ñoño y huevon - this was one of our most interesting and useful lessons). Needless to say, I was more than glad to move on to our second session of classes. I am now taking Sociology of Oaxaca and Mexican History. My schedule is stacked such that I have both of these classes on Tuesday and Thursday, meaning I have six consecutive hours of class on those days, and a 5-day weekend for the remainder of the week. Really though, it's not as luxurious as it sounds. Both the classes are reading-intensive, and I spend a good amount of time on Mondays and Wednesdays preparing for class. Besides the fact that they present a break from straight-up dry grammar instruction, I am enjoying the classes a lot, especially in conjunction with one another. I feel like I am getting a fairly encompassing education on Mexico's past and present, which, as I've stated previously, is something I see as very important to traveling conscientiously. Most of the other kids opted out of taking the history class - in fact, there are only three of us in the class - because they would rather learn about more "current" (read: relevant) issues. However, I find the class to be the perfect complement to my sociology course, as it gives me the context to understand how the current social and political situations came to be. But back to the fact that I'm in a class of three students. It is certainly a different learning experience, and more than ever before, we are held accountable for learning the material, since you can't just hide behind the rest of the class if you don't finish the reading before a lecture. We also have the opportunity to do some cooler stuff as such a small group - today we walked downtown and got a personal tour of the main cathedral's 500-year-old library and got up-close and personal with some of the manuscripts created during the period of Mexico's independence. Our professor is an adorable old man called Paco Pepe who is clearly enthusiastic about his subject, and despite the fact that he seems to have little concept of time (class frequently gets out 15-30 minutes late), we enjoy every second we have to chat with him. Call me a huevona, but I am enjoying our transition to more serious school mode.

I hang out with the family:
Two weeks ago, by the grace of some mysterious force, Emma and Manuel's grandchildren decided that they LOVE me. Not that they disliked me before, they were always just kind of shy. But two weeks ago, Regina, the youngest at 3 years, invited me to a tea party, and now we are bff's. Regi's spontaneous acceptance of me spurred interest in the older boys (ages 6-11), who soon invited me into their various roughhousing pass times. Now, I can hardly sneak a moment to myself when I'm home during the day, as Regi knocks on my door every 10 minutes and doesn't take "I'm doing homework" for an answer. The majority of my time at home is now spent hunting butterflies and playing dodgeball - I know, it's a rough life. I always felt welcome in Emma's home, but I'm starting to feel like one of the family, which I love, and don't take for granted for one second. Last week, my friend Jennifer's Oaxacan host mother passed away, which has shaken everyone up a bit. It did help me realize how important my family here is to me. Even though I don't have siblings my own age to hang out with, I adore talking with Emma and Manuel, and their grandchildren make me laugh on a daily basis. Even though I'd sometimes prefer a siesta over an imaginary tea-party, I wouldn't change my living situation for anything.

I dance:
I finally took my salsa moves public a few weeks ago, and now I'm hooked. Every Thursday there is a live band at the local salsa hot-spot Candelas, and admission is reduced - double bonus. While our salsa class we took the first few weeks here was a little boring with only four male partners for the 15 women to share, I have no difficulty in finding a partner at Candelas. In fact, it's hard to convince some of the guys I need a break after sweating out several songs in a row. I was pleasantly surprised with how well my classroom skills translated to the club, but things got a little tricky when non-salsa songs came on. Merengue? Check. I remember it from Panamá, and besides that it's pretty self-explanatory. Cumbia? So-so. The rhythm is the same as salsa, but the steps are a little different and I never formally learned them, so I stumbled through the first few songs, but I think I might have it down by now. Bachata? Disastrous. It's completely different from the other rhythms, and as I quickly learned, there is no faking it. I'll admit that after my first disastrous bachata experience in which I'm sure my partner regretted inviting me onto the floor, I did give myself a youtube crash-course on the basic steps. Here's hoping things go more smoothly next time around!

I get called "guera:"
Guera: Meaning someone with fair hair/complexion, debatably less offensive than the word "gringo." While this word can be applied normally to Mexicans with a lighter complexion, the way in which it is used about (or more appropriately, at) my fellow travelers and myself isn't generally so innocent. Appearance-wise, I am about as far from the typical Mexican as you can get. My blonde hair, "refrigerated" skin as it was once called here, and 5'10" stature garner me a lot of unsolicited attention. As such, I am called "guera" by strangers a minimum of 10 times per day (a conservative estimate). The majority of the guera comments are made by relatively harmless but big-mouthed men, and are accompanied by statements like "get in my taxi, guera," "share your money, guera," "I loooooove you, my beautiful guera," or the oh-so-original "no quieres mi salchicha, guera?" from just about every taco cart man on the street. Sorry guys, but calling me guera and winking doesn't get my interest that easily. The worst of the guera moments happened last week, when Becca, Bradia and I were followed by a guera-hissing car for a few blocks as they walked me home one night. Usually comments are less threatening and overall pretty harmless, but it bothers me that this is such a normal part of life here.

I eat:
(A lot). One of the most pleasurable, but least productive pass-times here. Once I learned to carefully navigate around some of Oaxaca's less-appealing dishes (I finally told my family that I hate eggs. Nobody was offended, and breakfast has been a lot more pleasant since then), I learned that the culinary offerings here are delightfully endless. Mangoes, taco cart confections, and esquites (cups of corn/corn water, lime, chili salt and Oaxacan cheese - better than it might sound) are some of the favorite items found on the street. Our professor Monica also introduced us to a hidden Irish pub in town, so Guinness has also become a regular part of our diet here. Maybe not the most Mexican item on the menu, but hard to turn down. Thank goodness PLU/UPS give us a monthly dinner stipend, or my bank account would be draining alarmingly quickly.

And finally... I travel:
I'll save my travel stories for another day, but this month is full of exciting excursions (say that 10 times in a row). The past two weekends were spent in the mostly indigenous town Teotitlan del Valle, where I learned a lot about rural life here and picked up a few phrases in one of the many Zapoteca dialects (on a side note, if you are ever interested in learning about indigenous Oaxacan life and migration patterns because you are a freak like me, I recommend the book Transborder Lives by Lynn Stephen. Read it for a sociology class last year, and it is proving to be extremely relevant these days). This weekend I'm heading back to Mexico City with a few friends to do everything we were unable to on our hyper-scheduled Witness for Peace trip, and the weekend after that the group is headed to the beach. This doesn't leave a lot of spare time on the weekends, but I love getting to know some of the spots outside of Oaxaca.

And that is my life in a nutshell. I feel comfortable here. It's hard to believe that my time in Mexico is nearly half way over, but that's a thought I try to push out of my mind. Instead, I'm just finding ways to make the most of my time, not a hard task at all. That sounds pretty trite, I know, but it's the truth.

I am alive.

There was a massive mudslide here today. Central Oaxaca and I are fine, but Mexico just can't seem to catch a break these days.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/29/world/americas/29mexico.html?_r=2&hp


Today at lunch my abuelito Manuel told me he's not yet convinced that the Maya were wrong about 2012, and I'm starting to agree with him...

El Bicentenario!

And the saga of my trip to el DF and Puebla continues....

Maguey plant, where tequila comes from!

On the morning of the 15th we packed up and left the Casa de los Amigos and headed to Teotihuacan, an archaeological site not that far from the other side of the city. Before checking out the pyramids, we met up with our guides at a workshop that produces many kinds of artisania as well as tequila and mezcal, a liquor similar to tequila that is special to Mexico. We watched as the artisans sculpted figures out of obsidian, and learned all about the many uses of the maguey plant, which include everything from weaving and paper-making to the production of the aforementioned drinks. At the end of our maguey charla, we found a table with shots of their most special tequilas and mezcals waiting for us. Not wanting to seem rude, we of course accepted the offer (including the 9-year-old daughters of our director Monica). The mezcal was amazing! It is distilled with almonds and honey, and that is exactly what it tastes like (Cathy - I picked you up a bottle. As if you weren't excited enough to see me already, now you definitely should be).

It was then time to explore Teotihuacan. The history nerd in me? Loving it. The site is huge, and has two giant pyramids (dedicated to the sun and the moon), countless other smaller structures, an Avenue of the Dead, and the remains of several murals. The city is a little more than two thousand years old, and has been inhabited by many different groups of people over the course of its existence. At its zenith, it was quite probably the largest city in the world, showing up European cities like London by several thousand inhabitants. We climbed both of the step pyramids (constructed in traditional mesoamerican talud-tablero style - thanks, art history class) and enjoyed stunning views of the entire valley from the top. The sun was unforgiving up there, but in the end the burns were well worth the experience.

We are the Mexican flag!

After Teotihuacan we headed to Puebla, where we had one last globalization lecture at the uni before being set free to celebrate the Bicentenario! Despite the buckets of rain that were dumping down around us, we were all super excited for the celebrations that night. Hundred-year anniversaries only roll around every so often, and since I missed the US bicentennial by a good 14 years, I was stoked to experience the 200th anniversary of Mexico's independence. It is all we had been hearing about since we first arrived - there are even countdown clocks on every major street in all the cities here that have been counting down the date to the minute for the past year! In our talks with Witness for Peace, there was a lot of disaccord on whether grand celebrations were appropriate, considering all the problems Mexico is facing right now. I agree that the amount of money that was put into preparations for the bicentenario definitely could have been applied to much more pressing causes, but at the same time, I also feel that the unity and pride I've seen throughout the country is a good thing. It's not a distraction, exactly, but a source of hopefulness and solidarity in the face of everything else that's going on right now. So with that in mind, I went out ready to celebrate with Brad, Bri, Becca and Jen. We headed to the Zócalo, and it was madness! Not uncomfortable-no-personal-space madness like in the Zócalo in DF, everyone was just in complete celebration mode! There were lights and streamers on every tree and every building in sight, and everywhere people were decked out either in their green, white, and red gear or in costumes of revolutionary figures - my personal favorite costume piece was the Miguel Hidalgo wigs, kind of a bald/long white mullet combination. We wandered around for a while until the fireworks, which were breathtaking, and only to be rivaled by the fireworks display I watched at the close of the Salt Lake Olympics. The cathedral bells were ringing, everyone was cheering, it was wonderfully overwhelming. Next up was the Grito de Dolores, or the reenactment of the battle cry given by Miguel Hidalgo that began the fight for independence in 1810; we watched a live reenactment in the Zócalo, followed by the televised version done by Felipe Calderón in the capital. The rest of the night was filled with live music and A LOT of dancing in the streets. All in all, it was one of the most exciting nights I have in memory, and I'm so glad I was here to experience it.

Pyramids of the Moon and Sun

Heading down the Pyramid of the Sun

El Distrito Federal, aka where I was peed on by a stranger.

This is what I had to say about Mexico City before the flood took precedent:

True to my nature, I have procrastinated writing about my week in the DF, despite the luxuriously long four day weekend I've had since returning. I guess in part it's because I'm still trying to process everything. It was an intense week, full of lots of learning, thinking, exploring, and more learning and thinking. I guess it'll be easiest to start at the beginning:

Friday morning after finishing up the last session of intensivo (YES!) the group went straight from the ICO to a six and a half hour bus ride to Mexico City. The ride was not that bad, actually - plenty of talking time, and it was neat to see so much of the landscape outside of Oaxaca. Southern Mexico is one of the most beautiful places I've been; everything is super green, and there are plenty of mountains to keep me from missing Utah too much. Anyways, once in DF, we headed to the Quaker-run hostel we were to call home for the next several days, Casa de los Amigos. The Casa is a great place. The people there were super friendly, the beds were super soft, and the food was delicious. I have to say, la comida norte americana that they offered was a nice change of pace from the steady supply of tortillas I've had for the past month. I was excited to find that there was a library across the hall from my room, and was elated to learn that it actually used to be the studio of the Mexican painter José Clemente Orozco. Sadly, there wasn't much left in the house indicating his presence, but it was cool knowing that I was living in his workspace for a few days. Bri and I also discovered a semi-secret staircase leading to the roof, which came in handy when we were awoken later that night by the loudest display of fireworks I have ever experienced, accompanied by some unnaturally loud opera music coming from the building behind us. I still don't understand what was going on, but the roof served as perfect front-row seating to the show!

The next day brought the beginning of our studies with Witness for Peace. The group is a non-political, non-profit organization committed to bringing peace and justice to the Americas, in large part through spreading knowledge of how past and present policies have affected human rights. They scheduled several charlas for us throughout the week, covering an array of topics from the effects of globalization and neo-liberalism on the Mexican economy, to sustainable agricultural practices, to human rights conditions here. It was a lot of information to take in, so thankfully we also had a number of processing sessions during which we synthesized, clarified, and reflected on what we learned. I am very grateful for our opportunities to learn so much here. Like I said earlier, I think it is important to understand the past and current social context of a place you are visiting in order to better comprehend your experiences, and our work with Witness for Peace helped me do just that. While there is still a lot that I'm sorting through and trying to understand (and even more about which I haven't even begun to learn!), I'm starting to feel like I have a more solid grasp of what's going on in the country. Every night I watch the news here, and while before I knew what was happening here, now I am beginning to understand why some things are the way they are. I'm also starting to figure out how I feel about being a US visitor in Mexico, and what my role can be in relating to the country both here and when I return home. But more on that later.

Palacio de Bellas Artes

WFP scheduled our trip pretty exhaustively, so unfortunately we were not left with a lot of free time to explore the city. I was most excited to check out the art scene, since Mexico City is a huge center for the arts, and home to a lot of big names like Kahlo, Rivera, Orozco, and Siqueiros, to name a few. Unfortunately, our sparse free time didn't leave much opportunity to see everything I wanted to, and there were several additional road blocks impeding my quest. Art failure #1: Our first afternoon, the group was supposed to check out the Palacio Nacional in the city's center, which houses some awesome murals by Rivera, but the building was closed due to preparations for the Bicentenario celebrations. Art failure #2: Later that evening, we were left with a few hours to explore the downtown area, so Bri and I decided to head to the Palacio de Bellas Artes. It is a stunning neoclassical/art nouveau building that houses works of all the aforementioned artists, but we were only able to admire the exterior as it closed ten minutes before we found it. Art failure #3: We had the next morning free as well, and I REALLY wanted to go visit Frida Kahlo's house, just two short subway rides away. Unfortunately, I was outnumbered 10:1 as the rest of the group wanted to go to the National Anthropology Museum. So I went with them, and it ended up being a pretty cool place, but I was still a little disappointed. Art failure #4: On our last afternoon in the city, in which we had two free hours between lectures, I went with Jennifer to check out the murals in the Public Education building. Guess what? It was also closed for the Bicentenario. Grrrreat. Not willing to give up, we made one last-ditch effort and sprinted several blocks to an indoor market, whose building housed some lesser-known murals that Jen had written a paper about (yes, we are art history nerds). Finally: ART SUCCESS (sadly, the one and only). We had twenty minutes to admire murals by the US sisters Marion and Grace Greenwood, and another wall sculpted and painted by Isamu Noguchi. A few of us are planning on heading back to the DF in October on our own time, so hopefully I'll be able to report a few more art successes after that trip.

Mural by the Greenwood sisters

One cool thing we did get to do in the DF was check out the Zócalo, the city center, and experience all the preparations for the Bicentenario. All the buildings were decked out with lights and giant streamers, it was like Christmas on crack. Even though we left before the actual Bicentenario, there were SO MANY PEOPLE there every night! I have never in my life experienced such a crowd. Not only were there tons of people, but they were also packed in tightly. At one point, Bri and I couldn't even control the direction of our bodies, we were literally shoved by the current of people. Hands from all directions were all over our bodies, feet were tripping us right and left, but it didn't even matter because there was a sea of people to break our fall! And here, we reach the highlight of my trip. As Bri and I were walking around the Zóc our first night there, admiring the lights and standing in awe of the crowd, it began to rain. I was wearing my trusty chacos, so my feet were pretty cold and wet. All of a sudden, I felt something very warm. I looked around, confused, trying to figure out if I was standing on an air vent or something. No. To my horror, I saw that the man next to me was peeing. On me. HE WAS PEEING ON MY FEET. I grabbed Bri and pushed my way out of the crowd and dumped my water bottle on my feet, but the damage was done. I don't think I'll be able to get the memory of that sensation out of my mind any time soon. Writhing in my skin, I decided to call it a night and head home.

Bicentenario decorations in the Zócalo

And that, my friends, pretty much sums up my experience in el DF. I learned a lot, saw some cool places, missed out on others, and worked on getting over personal space issues. Next up: The two days we spent in Puebla for the Bicentenario! But I'll spare you that story for now, since I've pretty much already written the next Great American Novel.  

When it rains...

Well, last night I finally began writing about my week in el DF. And then, the river overflowed. Remember all that rain I was talking about? There's been a lot more of it. And despite our best efforts to hide out far inland up in the mountains, some of that flooding has caught up to us. Thank you, Hurricane Karl. It's not that bad up by my house since I live a little higher up and not that close to the river (Mom - you can stop freaking out right now, I will be fine), but a bunch of the houses near the riverbank (including those of some of the students at the ICO) were flooded with mud and water.

Last night I headed over to Bradia's house to hang out with a few kids on our last night before classes begin. It was raining pretty hard as I walked over to her house, but thankfully I arrived without getting struck by lightening. I have to cross a few bridges to get to her neighborhood, and I did notice that the water level beneath them was a lot higher than usual, but didn't think that much of it. Fast forward a few hours. Right as we reach the credits of the movie we were watching (a surprisingly high-quality pirated version of Toy Story 3, complete with Chinese subtitles), Bryan gets a call from his family, asking him where he is because the bridge by his house has been wiped out by the river. Oh shit. That is the bridge I have to cross to get back home. We rush outside to see what's going on, and are affronted by a swarm of ambulances, firemen, and some very wet people. After asking around a bit to gauge the situation, we learn that everyone is ok, and the firemen are just there to block off the roads since the bridge has been wiped out. We wade around in the mud for a while, surveying the situation. There is no way I am crossing the bridge to get home. I call my house to let them know what's up, but nobody answers. After resigning myself to the fact that I will probably not be going home, Bryan informs us that some of the houses nearby have begun to flood, and the people need help moving their things and blocking off the water. As we head back to Brad's house to look for shovels or anything else to help out, we run into Bryan's dad, who stops us in our tracks. He tells us that it's no use trying to stop the flooding, because it's only going to get worse, and there's nothing we can really do until the water level starts to drop. He then tells us to go home immediately for our safety, and thankfully informs me of an alternate route to get back. So we all head home, a little shaken up.

When I got back, everyone in my house was asleep, so I was left alone to contemplate the night. It was such a strange feeling, sitting safely in my home, knowing what was going on, wanting to help, but also knowing that there was nothing I could do. The whole situation made what I've been watching on the news seem so much more tangible. While the flooding here does not even approach the scale of the scene in Veracruz and the rest of Southern Mexico, I really began to understand the tragedy of how much damage has been caused by the rain here. Thankfully, when I checked on the scene this morning, I learned that the water levels have dropped, and all that's left are the cleanup efforts. The rain has stopped (for now, at least), and as far as I know the worst that happened was some property damage.

This is the larger bridge near my house, not the one that was wiped out last night. Usually the river is pretty tame, but this morning the water was super wild and muddy.

Today, I discovered that there is mold growing on my shoes. Yes, that's right, mold. My fuzzy friend was able to take up residence on my poor shoes thanks to the non-stop rain we've had in Oaxaca since my first night here. I never thought I would use an umbrella - I am much too cool for that, and besides, I've managed just fine the past few years in Tacoma with just my rain jacket. So didn't think twice before ignoring "umbrella" on the packing list my school sent me before coming here. Now, I very much regret that decision. I have hit up several stores trying to buy one, but everywhere I've gone has been sold out. No wonder, since it has been seriously raining everywhere in Mexico for weeks - I'm not the only one in need of an umbrella. And when I say rain, I mean real rain, not the drizzly stuff in Tacoma. There has been massive flooding throughout southern Mexico because of recent tropical storms. It has caused major rivers to overflow, and now entire cities have been evacuated. The images I see on the news every day are horrifying - buildings submerged, people wading neck deep through the water, landslides from all the erosion. Thankfully, the nearest flooded area is still a few hours away from where I am, and we don't have much need to worry since we're up in the mountains. I guess I'm pretty lucky that all I have to worry about are moldy shoes.

On the brighter side of life, I just finished packing for our week-long group study trip to Mexico City. We leave tomorrow morning after classes finish (thank goodness for the last day of intensivo!) for a six hour bus ride do the DF. We're going with a group called Witness for Peace, a politically independent grassroots organization committed to peace, justice, and sustainable development in the Americas. While exploring the city (the third largest in the world, by the way), we'll be talking and learning about globalization and the economic relations between the US and Mexico, and what that has meant for human rights here. It is sure to be very informative and thought provoking. For our last two days, we are headed to the state of Puebla, where we will celebrate Mexico's 200th Independence Day! I'm not sure what exactly the celebrations will entail, but I am super excited to find out. I picked quite the year to visit - November also marks the 100th anniversary of the Mexican Revolution.

Un fin de semana educativo.

Well, I'm finally starting to feel like my UPS minor has some relevance. I decided to tack on Latin American Studies to my list of especializaciones mainly because I've always had a strange interest in that region of the world, but also because I happily discovered one day that I had accidentally completed pretty much all of the requirements by the end of my freshman year. Also, it didn't hurt that LAS and Spanish go together like chocolate and ice cream. Still, I've always sort of felt like my LAS classes were something I have been doing just for fun, because they are interesting to me, but not because I would do all that much with them. Now, however, I am suddenly very glad for everything I've learned about before showing up in Mexico. I do think it is important to be informed about the history and current social context of a country when visiting in order to understand your experiences. While I am by no means and expert on the happenings of Mexico, I at least feel like I have a pretty solid foundation.

Yesterday I was able to tap into last year's Mexican and mesoamerican art history class when the group took a day trip to Ocotlán, a town about an hour away from where we're staying that is a center for popular art. We learned a lot about the artist Rodolfo Morales, who had a pretty big impact on the city before he died a few years ago. Morales was a printer and painter who invested a lot of energy into bringing public attention to the art scene in Southern Mexico, and was also involved in the restoration of a lot of historic buildings around the city, one of which we got to visit. After checking out one of his public murals, we headed to a Dominican convent-turned prison-turned museum that Rodolfo headed renovations on, that now houses many of his paintings, along with those of other Mexican artists. Next, we headed to his house and workshop a few blocks away, which is now a museum of his works. The house was beautiful, complete with a stunning (albeit slightly mysterious and only a tad bit creepy) Secret Garden-esque atrium, but what really got me excited was seeing all his lithographs in a gallery upstairs. The trip really brought me back to last year when I had the opportunity to talk to Arturo García Bustos and Rina Lazo, a couple of Mexican artists who also worked as assistants to Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera - a lot of the same ideas resonated with me. Learning more about Morales and actually seeing so much of his work reinforced what I've already learned about modern and contemporary Mexican art - that is, a main priority is its publicity. A lot of artists favor printing because their works can be quickly and mass-produced, which helps to widely distribute social messages. Murals are all over the place here because they are essentially the most accessible form of communication; not only do they appear in highly visible public spaces, but the imagery is also capable of communicating to the masses, regardless of culture, class or language differences (you get the same idea from all of the street art and graffiti here, which, believe me, is copious - I still need to get some good pictures though). I love the art scene here, and I can't wait to see even more when we head to the Districto Federal next week when we have a break from classes.

Beyond experiencing the art scene, I also love talking with Manuel about a lot of the political and social issues here. We watch the news together every night, and while it can be pretty depressing with story after story about flooding, mine cave-ins and the drug cartels (don't worry Mom and Dad, I really AM safe here), it gives us a good foundation for conversation. We compare a lot of what is going on here to situations in the US, and he asks me my opinion on social issues. Usually I love learning about the popular opinions here, but sometimes, like today at lunch when Manuel asked me how I feel about abortion, I am a little uncomfortable because I don't know how to respond. I want to be honest and share an open conversation about topics that are really important, but I also don't want to offend when I suspect that our opinions strongly diverge. I guess I'm just not sure of the best way to handle the situation. Maybe I am being overly cautious, but maybe it really is a good idea for me to keep quiet sometimes. I'm going to keep feeling out the situation to try and figure this out. Manuel is very well informed about current events, both in Mexico and in the rest of the world, so I can learn a lot from him. Today, though, we managed upon the topic of Mormons (I AM from Utah, after all), and I had to set him straight that the majority of Utahns are not, in fact, polygamists (thinking of you, Tiegs ;) ). On a side note, while Spanish has not been much of an obstacle for me here, I am pretty proud of myself for keeping up with such diverse conversations.

I can't wait for the next session of classes to start in two weeks, so I can learn even more about Mexico's history. I am taking Mexican literature and Mexican history. It will be a nice change from my Spanish intensivo, which I have to say I am getting pretty tired of. The class seems pretty unfocused, and while I've picked up some useful grammar pieces here and there, all in all I do not think I am gaining that much from it. Also, four consecutive hours of one class is a bit much for my attention span. Oh well, I just have to push though one more week, and then we're headed to Mexico City for a few days before the bicentennial Independence Day and the next session of classes.

Here, I will leave you with a few photos from this weekend's events:

Ex-Convento/prisión de Santo Domingo de Ocotlán

Inside Morales' house

One of Morales' murals in Ocotlán

Good food, bad luck.

My day began with pancakes and chocolate. In a place where I sometimes find eating to be the biggest cultural obstacle I have to overcome, a good meal can help make my day. Is that pathetic? I hope not. Anyways, despite the fact that I was recently exalting the mole here (and believe me, it deserves the praise), in the past few days I have had to do battle with my fair share of questionable dishes, including my arch nemesis of culinary challenges: liver. So, I was more than pleased when I walked into the kitchen this morning to find Emma setting out a plate of steaming pancakes and chocolate con leche. A good start to a great day, I thought to myself. Well, I was only sort of right.

I've been waiting for today to come since we had our orientation last week when we learned about the intercambio program hosted by the ICO. Basically, the program pairs up international students with Oaxacans who are learning English. They get to practice the language with native speakers, and we get to hang out with people our own age who know the city and, obviously, the language and culture. Bingo. While I love the people I've met from PLU/UPS and the ICO, I am sick of feeling like a tourist. Ok, so I really am a tourist. But I hate walking around here feeling like I'm wearing a giant sign around my neck that reads 'EXTRANJERA.' While there's no way in hell that as a 5'10" blonde I could ever pass for a native Oaxaqueña, I would like to be able to hang out without causing too many heads to turn or eyebrows to lift. Easier said than done, so far. Any time I head out for a walk or a drink with any more than three other students, I feel as though we are causing a scene. I need some Oaxacan friends. Unfortunately, since the ICO only boasts international students and I live with two 70+ year olds, those have been hard to come by so far. So, needless to say, I am pretty enthused about this whole intercambio thing. I showed up at the ICO after lunch today, super excited to meet my intercambio partner. As everyone else was paired up one by one, I waited patiently for my compañera Estefanía to show up. After about 20 minutes, I was the only one left. Ok, I thought, she's probably just running on Oaxacan time, where showing up anywhere on time means you're early, and showing up late means you're on time. Wrong. I got stood up by my intercambio. I'm crossing my fingers she shows up tomorrow, but as of now my closest Oaxacan friends are still the 5-year old grandchildren of Manuel and Emma.

Trying to put the intercambio bit behind me, I headed to the laundromat to pick up my laundry. I was sort of amazed when Bri and I showed up to the lavandería on Sunday, prepared with our dirty laundry and plenty of soap, when the dueño snatched our bags away from us and told us to return on Tuesday. Apparently, you don't do your own laundry in the laundromats here. It works more like dry cleaning... only, as I came to discover today, a whole lot less luxurious. Try taking the 'dry' out of 'dry cleaning.' The laundry that I picked up was still wet. Surprised and a little confused, I accepted my clothes and took them home to put away. As I was hanging them from the shower curtain to dry, I was faced with the unpleasant surprise that not only were they still wet, but they also smelled pretty bad. Great. To top it all off, when I was done hanging, I realized that three of my shirts were missing. Thankfully, when I rushed back to the laundromat, they were waiting for me. Still though, I think it's time to pick a new lavandería.

I headed to salsa class, feeling a little dejected. After two hours of spinning, stepping, and swinging with our eccentric maestro Roberto, I felt a little better. I then decided to head out in search of coffee with a few other ICO kids. Good decision. After wandering around in the rain for a while, we found a cafe slash (wait for it) BAGEL SHOP! Ok, so I know it is not the most Oaxacan of places, but I'm not about to turn down a bagel. Once again, a good meal can go a long way in shaping an afternoon here. A good end to a great day? Maybe not. More like a good end to a long day. Still, I'll take what I can get. And I will definitely be heading back for more bagels in the future.

Mosquitoes and Crickets and más... oh my.

I would like to ask you to all please cross your fingers and say a silent prayer that I don't catch malaria, because the mosquitoes here are eating me alive. It is taking some serious will power right now to continue typing and not scratch my legs raw, because I might as well have the chicken pox. For some reason, the mosquitoes here prefer me and my fellow gringo travelers 1000:1 over native Oaxacans, despite the fact that I perpetually smell faintly of Deet - although, fun fact, I recently learned that mosquitoes actually prefer birds to humans, who knew? Emma assures me that it is because I have "sangre dulce," which in her book is a good thing. Personally, I'd prefer to have bitter blood over a thousand bug bites. I somehow managed to get through this week alive, and though I swore I packed some benadryl, I was unable to find it among my things. When I went to a pharmacy, I was informed that I need a prescription for any sort of antihistamine. Damn. Blessedly, I found the bottle of benadryl today in a hidden pocket of my backpack, although I would have loved to have made this discovery much earlier in the week.

I was able to reassert my position at the top of the food chain later in the week when I was presented with the opportunity to try chapulines, a Oaxacan delicacy. What are chapulines, you may ask? They are crickets, covered in chili powder, eaten with chips like guacamole. They're not bad, really, just a bit salty for my taste. I have to admit, I'm still getting used to some of the eating customs here. The Oaxacan meal schedule consists of two main meals each day, rather than the three to which I am accustomed. We eat a fairly big breakfast early in the morning and an even larger meal in the early afternoon. This leaves me a little hungry come nightfall, though an evening coffee usually settles my stomach down. I really understand the appeal of a siesta now; after eating such a hefty midday meal, I definitely appreciate the opportunity to quietly digest for a while before continuing my day. All in all, the food here is pretty good. I could eat mole negro, tamales and avocados every day until I die and be blissfully content. I'm a little more wary of other meals, like mystery meat balls and eggs with chili paste and chorizo, but then I just remind myself that after eating crickets, anything else should seem like a piece of cake (pun intended).

While it sometimes seems like my days here are centered around the meals, I have, in fact, been doing other things. I started class at the Instituto Cultural de Oaxaca, affectionately refered to as the ICO. Four hours of Spanish intensivo in the morning followed by two hours of salsa in the afternoon. I have to say, I'm getting pretty decent at salsa, though in a class with 14 girls and only 4 men, getting any face time with a living, breathing partner is pretty competitive for us damas. I think I need a little more practice before I hit up any of the salsa clubs here, but according to my sweet, 72-year-old abuelito Manuel, I will be able to "shake my ass" in no time at all.

After finishing up our first week of classes, we had a couple of fun activities this weekend. On friday we did a "Juego de Pistas," or scavenger hunt, in which we were paired off and set loose to find important landmarks in the city, armed only with our spanish, some maps, and our cameras. After roaming around for a good three hours, we were treated to tamales and chocolate con leche back at the ICO. Yesterday, the group set off for Monte Alban, the site of thousands of years-old Zapotec ruins, just outside of the city. That was definitely the coolest thing I have done here so far, and actually one of the coolest places I have ever been in my whole life. It was incredible to stand on top of an intensely lush, green mountain, overlooking the city from all directions, and walk through the remains of such an old civilization. Maybe it's just the art history nerd in me coming out, but I thought it was pretty cool. Today, I've just been enjoying a day off from everything. After a leisurely breakfast, I hit up the laundromat with Bri and then went for a run in the rain. The rest of the day has just been filled with more food, some futbol on the tele, and a lot of down time. Now, it's time to do a little "light reading" and writing about piracy before I go back to intensivo tomorrow. While I'd much rather head back to Monte Alban or tuck into some arroz con leche, I guess I have to accept schoolwork as part of this whole study abroad thing.

Well then. I'm finally here, taking advantage of what is likely to be a unique spare moment, as the rest of the week is jam packed with orientation, school, and explorations of this beautiful city! I arrived last night, and despite what seemed like the longest trip through customs ever where my bag was searched and I had to re-fill out the same form three times, I eventually made it safely and soundly into the arms of my homestay family. I am living with a retired couple, Manuel and Emma. They have three grown children and five grandchildren who are in and out of the house several times a day, and after some embarrassment I think I've finally picked up everyone's names.

As I finish unpacking and settling in, I can't help but be surprised by how normal this all seems. Admittedly, I was a little freaked out when I arrived in the Houston airport all by myself yesterday with no way to get ahold of anyone at home, in Mexico, or on my next flight. As soon as I ran into Bradia and Briana, two girls from my program, however, I immediately recovered my cool. Somehow the fact that we were all a little freaked out served to calm me down. I was free of nerves for the entire two and a a half our flight to the Oaxaca airport, and even when I stepped out of the airport and was whisked away from my traveling companions by Manuel and his son Victor, I was surprised by how calm I felt. When we arrived at the house, I was immediately greeted by Emma with a welcome cup of coffee (my only "meal" since a snack in Houston hours earlier). I kept waiting for the moment to hit me when I would realize that I am in a foreign country, speaking a foreign language, functioning basically on my own... but as of now that moment has yet to come. Maybe this transition will be easier than I anticipated (knock on wood)!

This morning I was awakened by a bird in my bedroom. Yep, that's right, a bird - in my bedroom. I'm not sure how exactly to describe our house, but I guess what distinguishes it most from my house back home in Salt Lake is that most of our casita is not covered by a roof. Only the bedrooms, bathroom, and kitchen are, and they all open into an uncovered atrium by means of numerous doors and windows. Hence, the bird in my room. After that incident, I dined with Emma on a "light" meal of coffee, freshly squeezed juice, melon, tamales, and mole. SO delicious! Anyways, the reason we weren't supposed to eat much this morning is because we were invited to a four-year-old's birthday party later in the day, where we snacked on more fruit, popcorn, mayonnaise-slathered corn, bread soaked in vinegar and onions (not my favorite), cake, jello and, wait for it, chicken nuggets (I guess things aren't so different after all). Everything, of course, was covered in chili sauce. After eating and watching four-year-olds whack at giant piñatas for a good four hours, Manuel took me on a mini walking tour of the city. Although I am no more oriented than before (and perhaps even a bit more confused), I have a tremendous appreciation for how beautiful it is here! All the buildings are brightly colored, and every block is filled with colonial architecture. I am particularly enamored of the cathedral in the town's centro and this old, greenish aqueduct that runs through the city.

Ok, well, the entire extended family just showed up, so it's time for me to go! I'll stick some photos up soon!

45 Pounds for 4 Months.

So. In approximately 15 hours I will be in Oaxaca, Mexico. I've been waiting for this day to arrive all summer, and now that it's here I can hardly fathom it. I just can't seem to wrap my head around the fact that for the next four months I will be living in another country! I know that four months is no longer than I would spend at school for a regular semester, but it seems so much longer knowing that it will be spent abroad. Beyond my disbelief, I'm not sure how I really feel right now. Excited? Sure. Well, I know that I should be excited, I just don't know what to be excited for yet. Nervous? Not exactly. I know that the first few hours, days, or even weeks will be pretty tough, and I am certain to face my fair share of "oh crap" moments, but somehow knowing that ahead of time makes it less scary. I guess that more than anything, I am just anxious to finally arrive. This past week in between when I stopped working and when I arrive in Mexico has seemed like a strange limbo, if you will. I've tied up my loose ends at home and said my goodbyes, but haven't yet begun my new adventure.

Well, it's finally time for the adventure to begin! After a day filled with frantic last minute errands and final goodbyes, I finished packing about an hour ago, and somehow managed to squish everything I will need for the next four months into one 45lb backpack. Really, it's a small miracle I was able to zip that thing up. Now all that stands between me and Oaxaca are two measly plane rides! Still though, I have a hard time believing that my trip is finally beginning. As I sit here in my bed sandwiched between my two best friends, it seems just like a regular night at home. Maybe it will really hit me when I get to the airport. Or maybe it won't seem real until I'm actually in Mexico. Either way, things are about to change really soon! I'm going to miss you all tons, but I can't wait to share my exciting (and hopefully interesting!) stories with you all through this little blog of mine. Well, I think it's past time for me to go to bed and rest up for my action packed day tomorrow! Chaocito!