This bus is going the wrong way. Maybe eventually it will get me where I'm going, since I asked if it would go to my stop before I got on (I have found that this is a necessary practice), and the bus driver said yes. If I weren't alone, I'd probably get off this bus and get on another one, but as it is, I don't have much of a hurry.
I'm fine with taking the long way. I'm wearing a scarf and a sweater and listening to the fucking Postal Service (I hate the Postal Service--so poignant), and as I look around at the traffic, all the other buses filled with people, all their faces, I contemplate the possibilities: what would happen if everyone in the world felt the way I do right now? Surely the earth would hum with tension.
But no, because everyone's feelings are huge all the time, and everything is just fine.
I'm thinking about a piece Mindy Kaling wrote for the New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/20/fashion/20kaling.html?ref=fashion). The piece is cute and wonderful on its own, but I guess in a sense I found it lacking. She mentions that because she is a writer of romance her "capacity for creating and believing in fantasy is huge". I like this idea, and furthermore find myself thinking of the other things that expand this capacity. For one, reading.
I grew up on the basic diet of "Baby-sitter's Club" books and other similar stuff, but someone (who? why?!) gave me a copy of Garcia Marquez's Strange Pilgrims: Twelve Stories (in Spanish, no less), when I was 8 or 9. Sure, I kept reading Ann Martin's creations, but something changed: I understood what people could do with words, if they wanted. In some ways, I think this expands our capacity to exist. There are other things that do this, too--a sense of spirituality, political beliefs, religion. These and others are the voices that encourage us to believe that other worlds are possible and that we must work toward them; anything that allows us to see ourselves as active participants in something incomprehensibly magical.
I believe in all of it, I believe in the multiple, contradictory truths at once. (I tried to explain to Tony that I don't think the Juan Diego story really happened, but that it's one of my favorites anyhow.) I believe that somewhere, impossible things are happening all the time. And the beauty of it isn't the idea of making impossible things happen or hoping they happen to me, it's just the fact that they exist.
I guess the point is, I believe eventually this bus will take me where I'm going, but if not, who cares? I'll get there somehow, sometime.
(It took forever, but I got there fiiiine.)
So! If you are reading this, I probably won't be posting for a while, hopefully because I will be seeing you!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
unreasonably tough
The days are passing in a very good way. A thing I have always noticed is that I make my most superhuman efforts when I am trying not to be gloomy. Contentment is a strange thing.
Yesterday we had a few folks over, some friends and some people we didn't really know very well but someone had met somewhere along the way, and I made ricey-beany thing and led everyone through the Novena. The simplest way to put it is that the Novena is the Colombian version of las Posadas, even though it's not really very similar. They go on for the same amount of time, but the Novena is nine days of prayer with songs. The Posada seems to be mostly singing. They both involve eating afterwards, and even though at times folks were confused by what was happening in the Novena, everyone got kind of into it. It was really sweet.
Today, I had to check in with my boss, which was really good. It's nice to work at a place small enough that your boss gets to know you, but also big enough that she happens to be in Nicaragua. It felt good to get a lot of those things off my chest and it felt like she really cared, which was neat. Then, I got some work done and managed to finally start reading NACLA's report on Colombian paramilitarism (July/August issue), which, surprise! is really depressing. Thorough and interesting, but a downer.
We ate lots of tacos for lunch, which is kind of out of character for me, but they were delicious. Vegetarian taco fillings are usually mushrooms, nopal, or potato. Today I went for cactus and potato, but when we were leaving, I noticed that there was a pot of spaghetti on the lady's stove, which is surely not a taco filling, but it should be! When I go to Colombia, my grandmother makes on every Thursday this pasta that involves tomato, onion, sliced hot dogs (or tuna during Lent? that doesn't make sense for Thursday. maybe just tuna when she is out of hot dog) and she puts ketchup in it and kind of fries it all together. Then, right at the end, she stirs in milk. Yeah, milk. It's a ketchup-milk pasta sauce. I know that that is so messed up, but as a kid, I didn't know and I loved that stuff. That stuff would make the best taco filling. Aside from that, after Wednesday-Pizza Day at Blessed Sacrament, it's the only place in my life where I've known that there is a designated day for a designated food. That kind of planning, laughing in the face of God's omnipotence! blows my mind.
Oh, my. It's midnight now and the church bells of La Soledad are ringing because December 18th is the special day for that Virgen. They sound prettier than usual.
So, then, Betty took us to a choir concert and a Posada. The choir thing started out with a Christmas song, and then they played some old weird stuff, and then they played "Greensleeves". The "Greensleeves" part kind of reminded me of this thing my brother Allen does where he imitates the way people in Colombia sing American pop music. But in truth, it sounded beautiful.
Then, after the Posada bit (which involved some very unsuccessful candle-lighting attempts), they fed us pieces of the bolillo bread smeared with refried black beans and cheese. Then, after that, a lady came by with tamales, which were served in increments of two tamales (having just one was not allowed, she told me). They were sweet tamales, filled with raisins and pineapple, and I ate them with my hands. Then I ate a brownie. Oh, they also served us a soda that was pinkish-red. Dunya said it was strawberry-flavored, but I am pretty sure it was actually "that gel they use to write on cakes"-flavored. You can eat really badly in Mexico, if you want. I should mention that before any of this, we stopped at a coffee place to kill time and we all got dessert (I got apple strudel). I was so full, it kind of stressed me out. Eventually, Dunya and I came home and watched bad music videos on Youtube and drank Rompope, a kind of messed-up Mexican liquor that is purportedly made by nuns. I don't know why nuns, whom I've always thought were awesome and often aspire to be one of, would do this other than to discourage people from the evils of alcohol in general. It's not disgusting, it's just strange: picture sugary raw eggs. Now picture them mixed with vodka. Now imagine what that would smell like, and the feel of the creamy egginess when it touches your lips, as you try to take sips of it, which is is basically impossible. This is what it is like. And yet, in a land where eggnog is nonexistent, where they don't bother putting butter in their baked goods, where you have to doubt the legitimacy of the thing they call butter in the first place, this beverage: it exists. And we drink it.
A note: maybe a not-so-cool thing is when you are trying to entertain yourself and others by watching and singing along to Kelly Clarkson videos (or something, that's just a hypothetical) and you can't because you can't watch certain things on Youtube outside of the US.
Oh, well. We are so close to the vacation now that I can almost smell my parents' apartment. I'm a little scared of some of the realities I will have to deal with when I go home (and therefore will probably just not deal with), but I will be so happy to see my family and spend time with them, and enjoy those mountains, at least for a little while.
Yesterday we had a few folks over, some friends and some people we didn't really know very well but someone had met somewhere along the way, and I made ricey-beany thing and led everyone through the Novena. The simplest way to put it is that the Novena is the Colombian version of las Posadas, even though it's not really very similar. They go on for the same amount of time, but the Novena is nine days of prayer with songs. The Posada seems to be mostly singing. They both involve eating afterwards, and even though at times folks were confused by what was happening in the Novena, everyone got kind of into it. It was really sweet.
Today, I had to check in with my boss, which was really good. It's nice to work at a place small enough that your boss gets to know you, but also big enough that she happens to be in Nicaragua. It felt good to get a lot of those things off my chest and it felt like she really cared, which was neat. Then, I got some work done and managed to finally start reading NACLA's report on Colombian paramilitarism (July/August issue), which, surprise! is really depressing. Thorough and interesting, but a downer.
We ate lots of tacos for lunch, which is kind of out of character for me, but they were delicious. Vegetarian taco fillings are usually mushrooms, nopal, or potato. Today I went for cactus and potato, but when we were leaving, I noticed that there was a pot of spaghetti on the lady's stove, which is surely not a taco filling, but it should be! When I go to Colombia, my grandmother makes on every Thursday this pasta that involves tomato, onion, sliced hot dogs (or tuna during Lent? that doesn't make sense for Thursday. maybe just tuna when she is out of hot dog) and she puts ketchup in it and kind of fries it all together. Then, right at the end, she stirs in milk. Yeah, milk. It's a ketchup-milk pasta sauce. I know that that is so messed up, but as a kid, I didn't know and I loved that stuff. That stuff would make the best taco filling. Aside from that, after Wednesday-Pizza Day at Blessed Sacrament, it's the only place in my life where I've known that there is a designated day for a designated food. That kind of planning, laughing in the face of God's omnipotence! blows my mind.
Oh, my. It's midnight now and the church bells of La Soledad are ringing because December 18th is the special day for that Virgen. They sound prettier than usual.
So, then, Betty took us to a choir concert and a Posada. The choir thing started out with a Christmas song, and then they played some old weird stuff, and then they played "Greensleeves". The "Greensleeves" part kind of reminded me of this thing my brother Allen does where he imitates the way people in Colombia sing American pop music. But in truth, it sounded beautiful.
Then, after the Posada bit (which involved some very unsuccessful candle-lighting attempts), they fed us pieces of the bolillo bread smeared with refried black beans and cheese. Then, after that, a lady came by with tamales, which were served in increments of two tamales (having just one was not allowed, she told me). They were sweet tamales, filled with raisins and pineapple, and I ate them with my hands. Then I ate a brownie. Oh, they also served us a soda that was pinkish-red. Dunya said it was strawberry-flavored, but I am pretty sure it was actually "that gel they use to write on cakes"-flavored. You can eat really badly in Mexico, if you want. I should mention that before any of this, we stopped at a coffee place to kill time and we all got dessert (I got apple strudel). I was so full, it kind of stressed me out. Eventually, Dunya and I came home and watched bad music videos on Youtube and drank Rompope, a kind of messed-up Mexican liquor that is purportedly made by nuns. I don't know why nuns, whom I've always thought were awesome and often aspire to be one of, would do this other than to discourage people from the evils of alcohol in general. It's not disgusting, it's just strange: picture sugary raw eggs. Now picture them mixed with vodka. Now imagine what that would smell like, and the feel of the creamy egginess when it touches your lips, as you try to take sips of it, which is is basically impossible. This is what it is like. And yet, in a land where eggnog is nonexistent, where they don't bother putting butter in their baked goods, where you have to doubt the legitimacy of the thing they call butter in the first place, this beverage: it exists. And we drink it.
A note: maybe a not-so-cool thing is when you are trying to entertain yourself and others by watching and singing along to Kelly Clarkson videos (or something, that's just a hypothetical) and you can't because you can't watch certain things on Youtube outside of the US.
Oh, well. We are so close to the vacation now that I can almost smell my parents' apartment. I'm a little scared of some of the realities I will have to deal with when I go home (and therefore will probably just not deal with), but I will be so happy to see my family and spend time with them, and enjoy those mountains, at least for a little while.
Monday, December 14, 2009
vamos vamos vamos vamos pastorcitos
The Christmas spirit is setting in and I am feeling lighter. Today in yoga my special intention (can you tell people those? is it like a birthday wish?) was just to be kind to myself, at least in the yoga context. It felt like it was coming together, not in the sense of being perfect, but in some sort of abstract sense of okay-ness and finally focusing.
Which is, of course, my metaphor for other things, too!
The heartbreakiness of the past few days has subsided and in its place I am finding calmness: not peacefulness, just embracing the mess.
We are having a Colombian Posada party with an absence of Colombian foods! It will be a lovely time.
Then, I am thinking of spending a day in the DF so that I can ice-skate and see the world's biggest Christmas tree before I go back to America.
Yay!
Which is, of course, my metaphor for other things, too!
The heartbreakiness of the past few days has subsided and in its place I am finding calmness: not peacefulness, just embracing the mess.
We are having a Colombian Posada party with an absence of Colombian foods! It will be a lovely time.
Then, I am thinking of spending a day in the DF so that I can ice-skate and see the world's biggest Christmas tree before I go back to America.
Yay!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
a mi no me importa nada, pa' mi la vida es un sueño
Well, what a weekend! I did shoot many of the promised Oaxaca photos, which means I am now editing. The more I get into photo editing, the slower the process becomes because I am nit-picky-er. Then Tony and I argue about the contrast levels in miso soup. It's really healthy.
We went to many parties this weekend, and even though I was on the verge of declaring tonight's party the most heartwarming, the truth is that they all were, just in different ways.
On Friday, we were invited to a Quinceañera that was thrown by the folks who own our apartments. We dressed up, and I was feeling pretty emotional anyway, so I got all teary-eyed and rueful watching the parents presenting their daughter proudly. It was also kind of funny watching the birthday girl, Luz Maria, dance around to the Michael Jackson songs that she replaced all the Quinceañera standards with: she was self-assured, but something about the way she looked on that dance floor, and especially in the big, poufy "woman" dress struck me as not-a-day-over-fourteen. Anyway, we were clearly the rowdy faction of not-high-schoolers at that party, so we danced around for a while and drank the party beverage of choice (brandy--like old men, yes).
On Saturday, we went to some of the Virgen de Guadalupe festivities (December 12 is Her big day). The best part was that at this one park they had lots of little boys dressed like Juan Diego--painted mustache and all. There were "scenes" set up so that you could pose your tiny Juan Diego and little indigenous girl in some sort of idyllic setting involving burros. We also went to see the big nativity scene in the zocalo, which was kind of weird, and involved scenes of Egypt and also Mexico that didn't entirely make sense:
Mexico in the nativity (you can tell by the cactus--and the sheep??!)
This isn't really relevant, but sort of. Some of the Oaxacans we've met work for the city government, which is kind of interesting, and they will say things like "Oaxaca has ruled Mexico for longer than any other state thanks to Porfirio Diaz and Benito Juarez". This is pretty funny because, well, no one really brags about Porfirio Diaz.
Anyway.
After this, we rested up for the big event of the weekend, which was a Vela Istmeña, a party thrown by folks originally from the Isthmus. We were told that there was a strict dress code of traditional Isthmus dress.
watching the traditional dances
Naturally, we took very many photos of each other in these outfits, and I could basically wear the thing every day, because there is really nothing I enjoy more than a big, poufy skirt. The party was a lot of fun, the families seemed kind of clannish but the family we were sitting with was very welcoming. They fed us lots of delicious Isthmus food and warm punch (the party was outside and it was really cold), and we partied til about 3 (we were some of the first to leave! these things go all night). The family aspect of this one, especially being dressed and prepared for the party by a really sweet family, was the best part of this party. But watching everyone in their amazing outfits and trying to get all the traditions just right was fun, too.
Then, today, we went to the last party of the weekend, at the migrant house. This party was complete with a bonfire for roasting marshmallows and an awesome band. There were some awesome dancers, and everyone there was really warm and welcoming. We all made something to take, and I made this cake, which tastes better than this photo probably makes it look (stupid flash).
Also, before the party today, Tony and I managed to go up to San Agustin Etla for an art bazaar. When we got there, it was basically just the Etla expat crowd out in full force, and it was their art (and their American prices, in many instances). Everyone is really friendly, and in truth the house and much of the art were very beautiful. On the other hand, it stirs these weird feelings in me--these folks can come here and make their art and sell it at these prices to each other, basically, while the Oaxacan artisans were nowhere to be seen. I guess I just wonder what kind of a contribution that really is. I was also really prone to negative feelings at that point, anyway, but the trip back down from Etla and baking and the COMI party helped a lot.
We're powering through to Christmas break now. We have a heavy week of community visits and a trip to the Sierra Juarez ahead of us, but I think those will all be pleasant. There's Kirtan and the beginning of las Posadas (which is also the beginning of my favorite, the Novena al Niño Jesus, a Colombian tradition that is sort of like las Posadas) this week, too, so probably some more events are in order.
Oh--also because I'm kind of nostalgic and life is silly, I know these videos have been all over the internet but I think this little kid is adorable and he reminds me, mostly in his silliness, of my nephew Anthony (I am missing all my little nephews and niece very much): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErMWX--UJZ4
Yes, friends, warm happy things: hugs to all of you!
We went to many parties this weekend, and even though I was on the verge of declaring tonight's party the most heartwarming, the truth is that they all were, just in different ways.
On Friday, we were invited to a Quinceañera that was thrown by the folks who own our apartments. We dressed up, and I was feeling pretty emotional anyway, so I got all teary-eyed and rueful watching the parents presenting their daughter proudly. It was also kind of funny watching the birthday girl, Luz Maria, dance around to the Michael Jackson songs that she replaced all the Quinceañera standards with: she was self-assured, but something about the way she looked on that dance floor, and especially in the big, poufy "woman" dress struck me as not-a-day-over-fourteen. Anyway, we were clearly the rowdy faction of not-high-schoolers at that party, so we danced around for a while and drank the party beverage of choice (brandy--like old men, yes).
On Saturday, we went to some of the Virgen de Guadalupe festivities (December 12 is Her big day). The best part was that at this one park they had lots of little boys dressed like Juan Diego--painted mustache and all. There were "scenes" set up so that you could pose your tiny Juan Diego and little indigenous girl in some sort of idyllic setting involving burros. We also went to see the big nativity scene in the zocalo, which was kind of weird, and involved scenes of Egypt and also Mexico that didn't entirely make sense:
Mexico in the nativity (you can tell by the cactus--and the sheep??!)
This isn't really relevant, but sort of. Some of the Oaxacans we've met work for the city government, which is kind of interesting, and they will say things like "Oaxaca has ruled Mexico for longer than any other state thanks to Porfirio Diaz and Benito Juarez". This is pretty funny because, well, no one really brags about Porfirio Diaz.
Anyway.
After this, we rested up for the big event of the weekend, which was a Vela Istmeña, a party thrown by folks originally from the Isthmus. We were told that there was a strict dress code of traditional Isthmus dress.
watching the traditional dances
Naturally, we took very many photos of each other in these outfits, and I could basically wear the thing every day, because there is really nothing I enjoy more than a big, poufy skirt. The party was a lot of fun, the families seemed kind of clannish but the family we were sitting with was very welcoming. They fed us lots of delicious Isthmus food and warm punch (the party was outside and it was really cold), and we partied til about 3 (we were some of the first to leave! these things go all night). The family aspect of this one, especially being dressed and prepared for the party by a really sweet family, was the best part of this party. But watching everyone in their amazing outfits and trying to get all the traditions just right was fun, too.
Then, today, we went to the last party of the weekend, at the migrant house. This party was complete with a bonfire for roasting marshmallows and an awesome band. There were some awesome dancers, and everyone there was really warm and welcoming. We all made something to take, and I made this cake, which tastes better than this photo probably makes it look (stupid flash).
Also, before the party today, Tony and I managed to go up to San Agustin Etla for an art bazaar. When we got there, it was basically just the Etla expat crowd out in full force, and it was their art (and their American prices, in many instances). Everyone is really friendly, and in truth the house and much of the art were very beautiful. On the other hand, it stirs these weird feelings in me--these folks can come here and make their art and sell it at these prices to each other, basically, while the Oaxacan artisans were nowhere to be seen. I guess I just wonder what kind of a contribution that really is. I was also really prone to negative feelings at that point, anyway, but the trip back down from Etla and baking and the COMI party helped a lot.
We're powering through to Christmas break now. We have a heavy week of community visits and a trip to the Sierra Juarez ahead of us, but I think those will all be pleasant. There's Kirtan and the beginning of las Posadas (which is also the beginning of my favorite, the Novena al Niño Jesus, a Colombian tradition that is sort of like las Posadas) this week, too, so probably some more events are in order.
Oh--also because I'm kind of nostalgic and life is silly, I know these videos have been all over the internet but I think this little kid is adorable and he reminds me, mostly in his silliness, of my nephew Anthony (I am missing all my little nephews and niece very much): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErMWX--UJZ4
Yes, friends, warm happy things: hugs to all of you!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
PSA
There is a silent killer in the serene fields and bustling cities of Mexico. This killer does its work without regard to its victim's age or size or anything. This killer seems sort of harmless, but is actually heartless.
This killer is nixtamalization.
"Oh, sure," you say, "whatever." Or maybe what you say, because you are not jaded, is "What is nixtamalization?"
I'm so glad you asked! This is nixtamalization:
Anyway, it's whatever fucked up thing that many people in the world do to corn to make it "digestible" and increase the protein content. I guess this is important to folks who eat many tortillas. A funny sidenote: some American students, I think public health folks, did some popular health education with communities here in Mexico and informed them of how many tortillas each person should eat per meal: 3--this is hilarious information for the Mexicans. Silly Americans!
Nixtamalization hates me and I hate it. Mostly it hurts my tummy and so I've chosen to boycott, yes! boycott! the nixtamal. I've mostly been eating toast lately, a product of this boycott and also a constant stomachache. At least I don't have the green apple quickstep like some people. But yesterday when I spoke to my uncle Dario on the phone, I complained about how I missed that most holy of corn products, the arepa, and he asked if I could just buy the right flour and make my own. When I explained that the Mexicans do this terrible thing to all the corn he paused, probably contemplating the gravity of what I was telling him. "How sad," he finally said.
So onward, til the 22nd when I gorge myself on every fresh corn product ever made.
Things are okay, work is good, I'll put up more Oaxaca photos later!
This killer is nixtamalization.
"Oh, sure," you say, "whatever." Or maybe what you say, because you are not jaded, is "What is nixtamalization?"
I'm so glad you asked! This is nixtamalization:
Anyway, it's whatever fucked up thing that many people in the world do to corn to make it "digestible" and increase the protein content. I guess this is important to folks who eat many tortillas. A funny sidenote: some American students, I think public health folks, did some popular health education with communities here in Mexico and informed them of how many tortillas each person should eat per meal: 3--this is hilarious information for the Mexicans. Silly Americans!
Nixtamalization hates me and I hate it. Mostly it hurts my tummy and so I've chosen to boycott, yes! boycott! the nixtamal. I've mostly been eating toast lately, a product of this boycott and also a constant stomachache. At least I don't have the green apple quickstep like some people. But yesterday when I spoke to my uncle Dario on the phone, I complained about how I missed that most holy of corn products, the arepa, and he asked if I could just buy the right flour and make my own. When I explained that the Mexicans do this terrible thing to all the corn he paused, probably contemplating the gravity of what I was telling him. "How sad," he finally said.
So onward, til the 22nd when I gorge myself on every fresh corn product ever made.
Things are okay, work is good, I'll put up more Oaxaca photos later!
Sunday, December 6, 2009
breakfast and cookies
Ali, this post is just for you (and thanks to everyone else who's been commenting! I miss you all tons!):
I could not find just where that story all begins
I can't sleep.
I downloaded the Sinful Savage Tigers' album from their website, and I love it. It is called Rain is the Soup of the Dogs in Heaven, and I recommend it.
It's been a hectic weekend, but with a semblance of habit. We worked all week, and then on Friday, we went to the weird patio outside our nearest church, la Soledad, to eat ice cream. For some reason, the patio vendors sell only ice cream in flavors like "burnt milk" (tastes like it sounds) and "corn". Maybe my favorite thing, other than the wide availability of coconut slushy, is that all the individual ice cream vendors have their own furniture that can really only be described as "American Girl Samantha doll Birthday Ice Cream Social". It is fabulous. Also, there happened to be a middle school band contest at la Soledad at this time. This is what living in Mexico is like: you turn around and something is being inaugurated, something is a contest, something is immigration trucks and police officers with bandanas to cover their faces not explaining why they are hanging about in droves.
After ice cream and some sad good-byes with our coworker, Ann (who is headed back to the states to have a baby!), we had our friend Lalo come over and we all went out. Then Lalo and a friend of his and a coworker and I went to some silly bar I can't remember and it had a live reggae band with a trombone and saxophone and an open-air patio/dance floors. A note: generally, I like to say noncommittal things like "oh, I like all music", but I've finally pinpointed the music I am opposed to, and that music is reggae. However, we were joking around and drinking caipirinhas, so it was fine. Then, the band started playing some crazy ska type stuff and I went out on the floor and thrashed around with the kids. I'm pretty sure Ben Jeuck told me that thrashing to ska is called skanking, and thus, I skanked. It was excellent.
Today, we got up super-early and went to the two Pochote markets (used to be one organic market, split in two on different sides of town). I stalked the Italian/Korean bakers, who I usually stalk Sundays at the train station eco-tianguis, so God knows what I'm going to do tomorrow (probably Xiguela and some Llano-wandering or hot chocolate and a new book now that I finished Kavalier & Clay (disappointing ending for the romantics out there)).
And then.
If you are reading this, you probably know that I have a bad habit of waking up one day determined that my hair must get cut that very day, and I spend the day looking for someone willing to do it and get so desperate that it clouds my judgement and the next thing you know, I have weird bangs and eyebrow paint and four different kinds of smelly hair product and a 1950s housewife flip. Not a good look. My mother asks always why I sabotage myself like this, and I don't have an answer to that silly question, but it happened today. The man who cut my hair was really very nice, but nice doesn't get you a good haircut.
After that, I read books and ate french fries for several hours. Then, I came home and made cookies (chocolate peanut-butter pillows, vegan, they are ugly--something went wrong) and my coworkers and I watched youtube videos on the couch. Then, Tony and I went to some place that had mulled wine and we spoke in Spanish about Spanish-y things.
I am fooling myself about the sense of routine I am feeling (markets, cookies, etc.), but it's the best kind of fooling right now, and it is warm and happy.
I downloaded the Sinful Savage Tigers' album from their website, and I love it. It is called Rain is the Soup of the Dogs in Heaven, and I recommend it.
It's been a hectic weekend, but with a semblance of habit. We worked all week, and then on Friday, we went to the weird patio outside our nearest church, la Soledad, to eat ice cream. For some reason, the patio vendors sell only ice cream in flavors like "burnt milk" (tastes like it sounds) and "corn". Maybe my favorite thing, other than the wide availability of coconut slushy, is that all the individual ice cream vendors have their own furniture that can really only be described as "American Girl Samantha doll Birthday Ice Cream Social". It is fabulous. Also, there happened to be a middle school band contest at la Soledad at this time. This is what living in Mexico is like: you turn around and something is being inaugurated, something is a contest, something is immigration trucks and police officers with bandanas to cover their faces not explaining why they are hanging about in droves.
After ice cream and some sad good-byes with our coworker, Ann (who is headed back to the states to have a baby!), we had our friend Lalo come over and we all went out. Then Lalo and a friend of his and a coworker and I went to some silly bar I can't remember and it had a live reggae band with a trombone and saxophone and an open-air patio/dance floors. A note: generally, I like to say noncommittal things like "oh, I like all music", but I've finally pinpointed the music I am opposed to, and that music is reggae. However, we were joking around and drinking caipirinhas, so it was fine. Then, the band started playing some crazy ska type stuff and I went out on the floor and thrashed around with the kids. I'm pretty sure Ben Jeuck told me that thrashing to ska is called skanking, and thus, I skanked. It was excellent.
Today, we got up super-early and went to the two Pochote markets (used to be one organic market, split in two on different sides of town). I stalked the Italian/Korean bakers, who I usually stalk Sundays at the train station eco-tianguis, so God knows what I'm going to do tomorrow (probably Xiguela and some Llano-wandering or hot chocolate and a new book now that I finished Kavalier & Clay (disappointing ending for the romantics out there)).
And then.
If you are reading this, you probably know that I have a bad habit of waking up one day determined that my hair must get cut that very day, and I spend the day looking for someone willing to do it and get so desperate that it clouds my judgement and the next thing you know, I have weird bangs and eyebrow paint and four different kinds of smelly hair product and a 1950s housewife flip. Not a good look. My mother asks always why I sabotage myself like this, and I don't have an answer to that silly question, but it happened today. The man who cut my hair was really very nice, but nice doesn't get you a good haircut.
After that, I read books and ate french fries for several hours. Then, I came home and made cookies (chocolate peanut-butter pillows, vegan, they are ugly--something went wrong) and my coworkers and I watched youtube videos on the couch. Then, Tony and I went to some place that had mulled wine and we spoke in Spanish about Spanish-y things.
I am fooling myself about the sense of routine I am feeling (markets, cookies, etc.), but it's the best kind of fooling right now, and it is warm and happy.
Friday, December 4, 2009
So I got a little intense today--
and now I am very full.
I have been feeling like cooking is a thing I can do that I can control and be good at and contribute with, so I've been doing a lot of it. Most of the time the results are just food, but today we made a couple of things that I thought were damn impressive-looking and I took some photos.
Here goes!
seitan, pepper, heirloom tomato tortas (we sprouted those sprouts here in the apartment! i made that seitan myself! we are crazy!)
vegan crepes with pears, oaxaca chocolate sauce, whipped cream
So yeah, it's getting a little out of control and I'm going to yoga in the morning to make up for it, I promise.
It's fun, we went to the migrant office today and they had been told about me, because they said "You're the one that bakes! You can come bake whenever you want!" And I would love to go help bake and garden, so I'm excited about that.
I want to get more involved with the local art projects and stuff like that, but I think things are shaping up!
I have been feeling like cooking is a thing I can do that I can control and be good at and contribute with, so I've been doing a lot of it. Most of the time the results are just food, but today we made a couple of things that I thought were damn impressive-looking and I took some photos.
Here goes!
seitan, pepper, heirloom tomato tortas (we sprouted those sprouts here in the apartment! i made that seitan myself! we are crazy!)
vegan crepes with pears, oaxaca chocolate sauce, whipped cream
So yeah, it's getting a little out of control and I'm going to yoga in the morning to make up for it, I promise.
It's fun, we went to the migrant office today and they had been told about me, because they said "You're the one that bakes! You can come bake whenever you want!" And I would love to go help bake and garden, so I'm excited about that.
I want to get more involved with the local art projects and stuff like that, but I think things are shaping up!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
"Look! Grilled-flavor mayonnaise!" "Let's get out of here!"
Life is settling a bit. Everything still seems very new, but I am making sense of it. We've been working at the office, so now we ride buses and figure out transporting ourselves around Oaxaca. I have been to yoga a couple of times, and doing the ride/walk by myself is helping me feel like I have a better handle on where things are in town (I still need the little map that I carry in my bag). Then after work and yoga I come home and make dinner, usually Tony helps and then we all eat together. Tonight's creation was hibiscus flower enchiladas with a chipotle cream sauce and rice and black beans. I am trudging through the days a little, and looking tremendously forward to spending Christmas with my parents.
It's soon now.
It's soon now.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
por eso el diablo muy triste esta
Well, Thanksgiving came and went and I didn't take any pictures of the spread that we ate at a new friend's potluck dinner party (that seemed awkward), but I did take a photo of the pizza I made out of my leftover chickpea gravy:
I am very proud of it. I'd never made a pizza before, and the dough was pretty perfect at first. Tony helped by doing some fancy tossing moves that I probably would've messed up. He is a great enabler of my baking habit. Today he and I also spent hours reorganizing shelves and moving things around. I guess on my part I am feeling disoriented because we don't have to go into the office until Monday, which means we have nothing to do. I know it probably seems silly to complain about having nothing to do in a new city, but there's a lot of stress about expectations, money, making ourselves feel at home here, getting used to Mexico in general, and not knowing quite what the future holds. It's also hard for me to deal with missing my family (this was my first Thanksgiving without them) and nursing some gloominess without dwelling on it. I think we are making the best of it, for the most part.
Last week, I went on a tiny beach vacation with my coworker. I would put up pictures, but really I only took a couple of photos for my own documentation purposes, and visually it wasn't a very interesting vacation. Mostly I lazied on the sand or in the water and read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, which took a few chapters to build up, but has turned into a really good book (at least for now). I read something in the NYT quoting someone, the basic idea was something like "If you have a library and a garden, you have everything you need." I guess in that respect my needs are basically covered here--we have a constant flow of books, everyone is constantly reading and talking about books, which I enjoy. We also have access to a few markets, not even including our silly, stupid local supermarket. We've started our own sprouts and stuff like that, and I've heard there are some urban gardening projects happening that I think I might get involved with. So yeah, the city is getting more familiar, slowly.
I am also beginning to nest a bit. I have trouble with this, because I am used to the chaos mentality of leaving everything packed: "who knows how long I'll ever be anywhere?" These are some photos of little angles in my room:
closet
My parents sent me a package of warm clothes. Winter is descending in Oaxaca, and though it certainly isn't as cold as it was in San Cristobal, it's still pretty cold at night and early on. I put the clothes away today, but as I did, I tried my best to smell out my parents' house in there, that soapy warmth. I guess the clothes had travelled too far for too long: they just smelled like box and air. I endured Thanksgiving with the help of my friends, but today I couldn't help trying to track down the old silly "december music" that we'd start listening to around this time on the internet, and I found my favorite one (this isn't a video, just the song): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8RttPmVJiXc
This is another picture:
dresser (Tony and I have started draping our rival hipster gang keffiyehs around random things in the house. They never stay anywhere for long.)
Tony helped me move stuff around and hang the awesome Zapata poster I got in Chiapas. It says "Nos vemos en el 2010"--the centennial of the last revolution, and bicentennial of the other one. The government is using this event to build lots of highways (which of course cut through indigenous communities whenever possible) and do lots of other big projects that are all titled 2010, for example "Ruta 2010". Some folks anticipate another revolution (unlikely). At the beach we talked to someone about 2012 and they started rambling about the events leading up to 2012 (which apparently began sometime in 1980 or something?), and underground city-dwellers, fourth dimensions, and shamans. This person was certainly engaging in the quite popular Puerto Escondido drug culture, but you know?
We've been throwing around some Buddhist writing lately, which is making me feel better about my expanding and shrinking world and life and feelings. I've adopted a way of joking-but-not-joking about things that is Buddhist, Zapatista, and CrimethInc-y. It helps. Thinking about the Abejas and trying not to hold in any anger or anxiety helps, too.
Whatever works!
I hope, if you find yourself reading this, that you also find yourself happy and warm, because I would like to send out as much happy warmth as I can over the silly internet.
I am very proud of it. I'd never made a pizza before, and the dough was pretty perfect at first. Tony helped by doing some fancy tossing moves that I probably would've messed up. He is a great enabler of my baking habit. Today he and I also spent hours reorganizing shelves and moving things around. I guess on my part I am feeling disoriented because we don't have to go into the office until Monday, which means we have nothing to do. I know it probably seems silly to complain about having nothing to do in a new city, but there's a lot of stress about expectations, money, making ourselves feel at home here, getting used to Mexico in general, and not knowing quite what the future holds. It's also hard for me to deal with missing my family (this was my first Thanksgiving without them) and nursing some gloominess without dwelling on it. I think we are making the best of it, for the most part.
Last week, I went on a tiny beach vacation with my coworker. I would put up pictures, but really I only took a couple of photos for my own documentation purposes, and visually it wasn't a very interesting vacation. Mostly I lazied on the sand or in the water and read The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, which took a few chapters to build up, but has turned into a really good book (at least for now). I read something in the NYT quoting someone, the basic idea was something like "If you have a library and a garden, you have everything you need." I guess in that respect my needs are basically covered here--we have a constant flow of books, everyone is constantly reading and talking about books, which I enjoy. We also have access to a few markets, not even including our silly, stupid local supermarket. We've started our own sprouts and stuff like that, and I've heard there are some urban gardening projects happening that I think I might get involved with. So yeah, the city is getting more familiar, slowly.
I am also beginning to nest a bit. I have trouble with this, because I am used to the chaos mentality of leaving everything packed: "who knows how long I'll ever be anywhere?" These are some photos of little angles in my room:
closet
My parents sent me a package of warm clothes. Winter is descending in Oaxaca, and though it certainly isn't as cold as it was in San Cristobal, it's still pretty cold at night and early on. I put the clothes away today, but as I did, I tried my best to smell out my parents' house in there, that soapy warmth. I guess the clothes had travelled too far for too long: they just smelled like box and air. I endured Thanksgiving with the help of my friends, but today I couldn't help trying to track down the old silly "december music" that we'd start listening to around this time on the internet, and I found my favorite one (this isn't a video, just the song): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8RttPmVJiXc
This is another picture:
dresser (Tony and I have started draping our rival hipster gang keffiyehs around random things in the house. They never stay anywhere for long.)
Tony helped me move stuff around and hang the awesome Zapata poster I got in Chiapas. It says "Nos vemos en el 2010"--the centennial of the last revolution, and bicentennial of the other one. The government is using this event to build lots of highways (which of course cut through indigenous communities whenever possible) and do lots of other big projects that are all titled 2010, for example "Ruta 2010". Some folks anticipate another revolution (unlikely). At the beach we talked to someone about 2012 and they started rambling about the events leading up to 2012 (which apparently began sometime in 1980 or something?), and underground city-dwellers, fourth dimensions, and shamans. This person was certainly engaging in the quite popular Puerto Escondido drug culture, but you know?
We've been throwing around some Buddhist writing lately, which is making me feel better about my expanding and shrinking world and life and feelings. I've adopted a way of joking-but-not-joking about things that is Buddhist, Zapatista, and CrimethInc-y. It helps. Thinking about the Abejas and trying not to hold in any anger or anxiety helps, too.
Whatever works!
I hope, if you find yourself reading this, that you also find yourself happy and warm, because I would like to send out as much happy warmth as I can over the silly internet.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
"It's Not About You, Hipster! Now Keep Clapping!" (or, "The Great Chiapas Rundown")
When you first step off the bus in San Cristobal de las Casas, you might find yourself under the impression that you are in a lovely, colonial town in Latin America. It is imperative to your survival in Chiapas that you do not let yourself be entirely swayed by this impression. I've probably mentioned the pre-recorded marimba music playing from loudspeakers hidden in trees, I know I've griped about the hippie zapatourists, and all that whatnot.
There are a few things to talk about when you talk about southern Mexico, and maybe you know these things, because I guess I sort of knew these things, but it is different to know things and see them, so there.
A street in San Cristobal
So, for starters, Oaxaca and Chiapas, despite holding vast amounts of Mexico's natural resources, are basically the two poorest states in Mexico. This coincides with the fact that they also hold the highest percentage of indigenous populations in Mexico. There are sixteen "most common" indigenous dialects in Oaxaca alone, if that gives you any idea of the scope of it. Many of the folks living in Chiapas, even in a largely tourist-y area like San Cristobal, don't speak much Spanish at all. This is maybe the first thing that made me feel "weird". I had to confront a lot of my ideas about why the Mexican government would ignore the needs of such a large number of people, while simultaneously realizing that, just like all over Latin America, it's easy for us mestizo folks to push the indigenous communities to the back of our minds, because, after all, they could come down to the cities and conform to acting like the rest of us.
So, while that was "hard" or whatever, I felt even worse for thinking that it was a big deal at all, because no matter what my little crisis of emotions was like, it's nowhere near the issues many people in the small communities in Chiapas have to deal with.
At the same time, amazing things are happening. Collectives for artisans and coffee growers are forming and growing. We got to sit in on a meeting for a coffee collective in Simojovel (a small town I mentioned earlier). It took three hours to get there. We had to take a taxi up curvy mountain roads to a certain stop where a bus would pick us up. At the stop, we waited in the cold at a store where taxi drivers were taking breaks, joking around in a language I couldn't understand while eating shrimp Cup o'Noodles with tortilla chips.
When we got to the collective, the whole meeting was in Tsotsil, in a warehouse full of sacks of coffee, with delegates from each community sitting or lying on top of these sacks. Even though I couldn't grasp most of what was happening, I appreciated the indigenous tradition that we would experience a couple more times, of not ending a topic until everyone who wanted to speak had spoken. Consequently, the meeting took forever, but we still got to speak to the president of the board for a few minutes, and we bought some of their delicious coffee (which is that "Mind, Body, and Soul" stuff you folks buy from Equal Exchange back in the States). In small communities in Chiapas, they drink coffee with most of their meals. They make it kind of weak and black but very sweet, and it's delicious hot with a bowl of black beans, their insanely spicy hot chile salsa, and a big pile of homemade corn tortillas (they don't even bother giving you utensils): the meal we ate most often.
Also in Simojovel, we went to the amber museum, which I thought was mostly boring. The man working there offered us some terrible fruit-nut thing called cacate. The nut inside the shell starts out tasting deliciously nutty or chocolatey, and then becomes horribly bitter. We asked about the health benefits of amber and he said that was superstition, and that only Jehovah really knows things. Then, he added that a thing that isn't superstition is that pregnant women lose the ability to fry chicharron adequately. He has seen this, and he knows it to to be true.
I know I hated on the zapatourists a whole lot, but the truth is that many of the people who come to Chiapas from elsewhere are doing important work. In the wake of government injustice and pretty blatant violence against small autonomous communities, many people come from all over the world to do human rights monitoring and "accompaniment" with the people in the communities. Many people in the community that we stayed in, Tzajalchen, seemed grateful just to know that people in the world knew about them and cared, just to know that they are not alone. On that note: in Chiapas, "autonomous community" does not mean that a community has chosen to side with the Zapatistas. Many indigenous communities have simply not wanted government intervention for many years, finding that the government's help is often insufficient and politically motivated. Instead, many are finding ways to do things like build the schools and clinics the government has failed to provide on their own. In this undertaking, only some communities have fully embraced the Zapatistas. Many, like the one we stayed in, sympathize with the EZLN but don't believe in taking up arms.
However, declaring your community autonomous and nonviolent makes you somewhat of an easy target. The government has had a ceasefire with the Zapatistas since almost right after their uprising in 1994, and although it has violated terms of their treaty many times, outright conflict hasn't restarted. Instead, there is low-intensity warfare all over Chiapas (Mexico is second in number of delegates sent to the SOA every year, Colombia is first). And there was the massacre in Acteal.
The new church at Acteal (the first church still stands)
In 1997, a community in Acteal populated by a prayerful nonviolence group called las Abejas ("the Bees") found themselves terrorized by a paramilitary group. Men, women, and small children, many of whom were in their tiny wooden church at the time, were shot at for six hours. No help ever came. The survivors identified many of the murderers as members of neighboring indigenous communities, presumably payed off by the government to do this terrible thing. Now, the government is slowly releasing the killers, arguing that due process was not followed in their trials. However, the "intellectual authors" of these crimes have never been prosecuted. Now, the murderers want to return to their homes among the community members, and they are scared.
They aren't fighting back, though. Some say that if it is the will of God, then we have to be okay with the killers coming back. When the leader of the board of the Abejas explained to us the origin of their name, he said, "Bees work, and their are reigned over by a bigger bee. We too work, and we live in the reign of God. Like bees, there may be a bigger, busier world outside of ours, but we live and work here, with God."
And that's that.
There are a few things to talk about when you talk about southern Mexico, and maybe you know these things, because I guess I sort of knew these things, but it is different to know things and see them, so there.
A street in San Cristobal
So, for starters, Oaxaca and Chiapas, despite holding vast amounts of Mexico's natural resources, are basically the two poorest states in Mexico. This coincides with the fact that they also hold the highest percentage of indigenous populations in Mexico. There are sixteen "most common" indigenous dialects in Oaxaca alone, if that gives you any idea of the scope of it. Many of the folks living in Chiapas, even in a largely tourist-y area like San Cristobal, don't speak much Spanish at all. This is maybe the first thing that made me feel "weird". I had to confront a lot of my ideas about why the Mexican government would ignore the needs of such a large number of people, while simultaneously realizing that, just like all over Latin America, it's easy for us mestizo folks to push the indigenous communities to the back of our minds, because, after all, they could come down to the cities and conform to acting like the rest of us.
So, while that was "hard" or whatever, I felt even worse for thinking that it was a big deal at all, because no matter what my little crisis of emotions was like, it's nowhere near the issues many people in the small communities in Chiapas have to deal with.
At the same time, amazing things are happening. Collectives for artisans and coffee growers are forming and growing. We got to sit in on a meeting for a coffee collective in Simojovel (a small town I mentioned earlier). It took three hours to get there. We had to take a taxi up curvy mountain roads to a certain stop where a bus would pick us up. At the stop, we waited in the cold at a store where taxi drivers were taking breaks, joking around in a language I couldn't understand while eating shrimp Cup o'Noodles with tortilla chips.
When we got to the collective, the whole meeting was in Tsotsil, in a warehouse full of sacks of coffee, with delegates from each community sitting or lying on top of these sacks. Even though I couldn't grasp most of what was happening, I appreciated the indigenous tradition that we would experience a couple more times, of not ending a topic until everyone who wanted to speak had spoken. Consequently, the meeting took forever, but we still got to speak to the president of the board for a few minutes, and we bought some of their delicious coffee (which is that "Mind, Body, and Soul" stuff you folks buy from Equal Exchange back in the States). In small communities in Chiapas, they drink coffee with most of their meals. They make it kind of weak and black but very sweet, and it's delicious hot with a bowl of black beans, their insanely spicy hot chile salsa, and a big pile of homemade corn tortillas (they don't even bother giving you utensils): the meal we ate most often.
Also in Simojovel, we went to the amber museum, which I thought was mostly boring. The man working there offered us some terrible fruit-nut thing called cacate. The nut inside the shell starts out tasting deliciously nutty or chocolatey, and then becomes horribly bitter. We asked about the health benefits of amber and he said that was superstition, and that only Jehovah really knows things. Then, he added that a thing that isn't superstition is that pregnant women lose the ability to fry chicharron adequately. He has seen this, and he knows it to to be true.
I know I hated on the zapatourists a whole lot, but the truth is that many of the people who come to Chiapas from elsewhere are doing important work. In the wake of government injustice and pretty blatant violence against small autonomous communities, many people come from all over the world to do human rights monitoring and "accompaniment" with the people in the communities. Many people in the community that we stayed in, Tzajalchen, seemed grateful just to know that people in the world knew about them and cared, just to know that they are not alone. On that note: in Chiapas, "autonomous community" does not mean that a community has chosen to side with the Zapatistas. Many indigenous communities have simply not wanted government intervention for many years, finding that the government's help is often insufficient and politically motivated. Instead, many are finding ways to do things like build the schools and clinics the government has failed to provide on their own. In this undertaking, only some communities have fully embraced the Zapatistas. Many, like the one we stayed in, sympathize with the EZLN but don't believe in taking up arms.
However, declaring your community autonomous and nonviolent makes you somewhat of an easy target. The government has had a ceasefire with the Zapatistas since almost right after their uprising in 1994, and although it has violated terms of their treaty many times, outright conflict hasn't restarted. Instead, there is low-intensity warfare all over Chiapas (Mexico is second in number of delegates sent to the SOA every year, Colombia is first). And there was the massacre in Acteal.
The new church at Acteal (the first church still stands)
In 1997, a community in Acteal populated by a prayerful nonviolence group called las Abejas ("the Bees") found themselves terrorized by a paramilitary group. Men, women, and small children, many of whom were in their tiny wooden church at the time, were shot at for six hours. No help ever came. The survivors identified many of the murderers as members of neighboring indigenous communities, presumably payed off by the government to do this terrible thing. Now, the government is slowly releasing the killers, arguing that due process was not followed in their trials. However, the "intellectual authors" of these crimes have never been prosecuted. Now, the murderers want to return to their homes among the community members, and they are scared.
They aren't fighting back, though. Some say that if it is the will of God, then we have to be okay with the killers coming back. When the leader of the board of the Abejas explained to us the origin of their name, he said, "Bees work, and their are reigned over by a bigger bee. We too work, and we live in the reign of God. Like bees, there may be a bigger, busier world outside of ours, but we live and work here, with God."
And that's that.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
any old lie will do
Don´t worry, folks! I´ve been taking very fastidious notes on my great Chiapas adventure so that I can write a long entry explaining the whole thing once I get back to Oaxaca (only two more days left on this delegation!), but today is my day off and since, unlike my coworker Tony, I value slowness and the ability to sleep in and take photos much more than any old Mayan ruin, I´ve been lazying about town. I got to really shower today, unlike most days when I shower half-assed-like. The constant wearing of woolly hats has made my head itchy, and since, like all my other bizarre personal problems, I told Tony about this, he bought me some special itchy-head shampoo at the Museum of Mayan Medicine while I was in Tzajalchen. I used it for the first time this morning and it smelled like a combination of cigarette butts and fish. I think this may have been a joke.
I just realized I lost my woolly hat. I´d be happy about this, except that that hat is basically the warmest thing worth wearing in San Cristobal. San Cristobal, on that note, has hugely stupid weather. It is cold in the morning and in the afternoon, very cold at night, but in the middle of the day, it becomes uncomfortably warm, even hot. It makes it so that you have to layer for three different climates, and then carry around a big enough bag to hold the extra layers when you don´t need them. Maybe this is why the hippies wear their stupid baggy pants, but those don´t even seem that helpful. Whatever.
Well, there´s more day-off-ing to do! Onward!
I just realized I lost my woolly hat. I´d be happy about this, except that that hat is basically the warmest thing worth wearing in San Cristobal. San Cristobal, on that note, has hugely stupid weather. It is cold in the morning and in the afternoon, very cold at night, but in the middle of the day, it becomes uncomfortably warm, even hot. It makes it so that you have to layer for three different climates, and then carry around a big enough bag to hold the extra layers when you don´t need them. Maybe this is why the hippies wear their stupid baggy pants, but those don´t even seem that helpful. Whatever.
Well, there´s more day-off-ing to do! Onward!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
We take walk-in dreadlocks from 10 til noon
Backpackers are everywhere! And they keep on showing up at the organizations we have meetings with! The same people! This town is too small for all of us, guys, come on. At least in Oaxaca we can hide in the multitudes.
Our delegation came in today and so far, so good. I saw an amazing presentation on zapatismo today by a woman named Marina Pages at an organization called SiPaz. It was seriously genius in action.
In a few days, we´ll head out to Tzajalchen. Time is not flying, but maybe it will start to?
Our delegation came in today and so far, so good. I saw an amazing presentation on zapatismo today by a woman named Marina Pages at an organization called SiPaz. It was seriously genius in action.
In a few days, we´ll head out to Tzajalchen. Time is not flying, but maybe it will start to?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The Great Chiapas Stomachache
Greetings from Chiapas!
Chiapas is an adventure in ways that I am not ready to articulate yet. I think I will need to process some more before I am ready to really talk about it. I am learning things about myself, among them how much I need to process things before I am ready to talk about them (I NEED TO PROCESS A LOT).
It´s colder, for one. San Cristobal is pretty touristy, for another. I actually had no idea it was such a hot spot.
I keep having moments where I deeply appreciate this opportunity, because I am getting to see things that even the brave tourists probably can´t see. I´ll write about that in more detail once I´ve processed.
The food is pretty good. I´m finding ways to make eating work. I´m not really a picky eater, but still. Yesterday we had one of my favorite meals the whole time at the workers´cafeteria in a coffee co-op in a town called Simojovel (a name which in Tsotsil means ¨field of ants up on high¨): beans, tortillas, eggs, and a bowl of chopped hot chiles and lime juice (basically my favorite food).
I am glad we´re moving so fast because I feel some homesickness starting to crawl in. Mostly I only hear from my parents (whine whine whine) and that´s sort of hard. On the other hand, I hear from my parents quite a bit, and that´s awesome! But I think that, combined with the coffee I´ve been drinking the past two days (not drinking coffee in Chiapas is sort of like deciding to tour some great wine valley and saying ¨nah, wine´s not really my thing¨), combined with the fact that the delegation arrives tomorrow, is the source of my stomachache. So I´m suppressing that, too, until I can process.
Until then--
Chiapas is an adventure in ways that I am not ready to articulate yet. I think I will need to process some more before I am ready to really talk about it. I am learning things about myself, among them how much I need to process things before I am ready to talk about them (I NEED TO PROCESS A LOT).
It´s colder, for one. San Cristobal is pretty touristy, for another. I actually had no idea it was such a hot spot.
I keep having moments where I deeply appreciate this opportunity, because I am getting to see things that even the brave tourists probably can´t see. I´ll write about that in more detail once I´ve processed.
The food is pretty good. I´m finding ways to make eating work. I´m not really a picky eater, but still. Yesterday we had one of my favorite meals the whole time at the workers´cafeteria in a coffee co-op in a town called Simojovel (a name which in Tsotsil means ¨field of ants up on high¨): beans, tortillas, eggs, and a bowl of chopped hot chiles and lime juice (basically my favorite food).
I am glad we´re moving so fast because I feel some homesickness starting to crawl in. Mostly I only hear from my parents (whine whine whine) and that´s sort of hard. On the other hand, I hear from my parents quite a bit, and that´s awesome! But I think that, combined with the coffee I´ve been drinking the past two days (not drinking coffee in Chiapas is sort of like deciding to tour some great wine valley and saying ¨nah, wine´s not really my thing¨), combined with the fact that the delegation arrives tomorrow, is the source of my stomachache. So I´m suppressing that, too, until I can process.
Until then--
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The days off are going well! Yesterday we explored Oaxaca markets and today will probably be more of the same. We ate at my new favorite place, the naturista store I mentioned earlier. They had soy tacos al pastor, which were pretty good, tiny tacos with pastor-seasoned soy meat, guacamole, and lots of cilantro. We went to a huge market that sold some touristy Oaxaca things but then also mazes of random metal parts, appliances, cookware (ALL OF THE COOKWARE IS ALUMINUM. CAST IRON DOES NOT EXIST.), toys, and of course one black-light-lit stand where an apathetic young guy was blasting Mexican rock music and selling Ramones shirts.
Other than those adventures, we made ricey-beany-thing with a side of green beans, which was really comforting. Then! I actually made vegan brownies out of Abuelita chocolate! Personal triumph! Then I passed out.
Today, more wandering, and then preparations for Chiapas.
Other than those adventures, we made ricey-beany-thing with a side of green beans, which was really comforting. Then! I actually made vegan brownies out of Abuelita chocolate! Personal triumph! Then I passed out.
Today, more wandering, and then preparations for Chiapas.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
soy saves the day once more
Training is over!
Last night was way better and my higher spirits flowed into today, too. First, every night we've had a segment in the agenda called "In-depth Personal Stories", and we tended to go other places to do that. Yesterday, we went to a coworker's rooftop, where we could see most of the city, to tell our stories. After, I got two cell phones, a wfp one to use for stuff in Mexico, and then another one to use mostly to call home. I got the cheapest cell phones that didn't look like they were made of cardboard, and they are tiny and bricklike and almost identical. Then, we walked into a natural foods store. These are referred to as "naturista" stores and don't actually sell a lot of food at all, mostly loaves of dense, heavy-looking whole wheat bread and then a few shelves of vitamins and herbal supplements, henna, and other randomness. But then there was a near-empty refrigerator that had fake meats in it! We bought some soy chorizo and then one of my new coworkers and I walked to "Pizza Italia" and had some very not-Italian seeming pizza, which we purchased from an Italian man in a keffiyeh.
Talking to my parents after all that adventure was over was great. I miss them, but they were being really sweet and that makes talking to them much easier.
Today went well in terms of training, and our soy chorizo breakfast was delicious. We celebrated the successful training with a tres leches cake, and then we "decorated" our apartment, hung out, planned a bit of the day off tomorrow, and my roommate played Bob Marley while stringing up Christmas lights.
Then, we all played Apples to Apples and laughed a bunch, and since our ED has been down here for the training, she is heading out tonight and we joined her for a late meal. We went to a place really close to our apartment and ordered Oaxacan specialties, tlayudas (big, toasted tortillas filled with Oaxaca cheese (which is amazing) and other stuff--mine had black beans, onions, and mushrooms) and hot chocolate. They offered me bread for my hot chocolate (like, as a side) and I fell in love (because how can you not love a place that believes in bread as a side?!). They also brought out steamy hot bowls of a tomato-jalapeno salsa they'd just made, and a bowl of onions with hot peppers (tasted like habanero but looked very pale green and they left it seeded) and lime juice. The whole thing was delicious and now the combination of hot chocolate, good food, and general loveliness of the evening has me feeling warm and happy.
Tomorrow, we're out to buy kitchen wares and I'll probably gather up some last things before my trip to Chiapas. Saturday will probably be more exploring, maybe getting around to organic markets. Through a friend of a friend, I met someone on facebook who lives in Oaxaca and today he invited me to a metal concert he is having on saturday night! I'm definitely going to try to make it out to that! Then on Sunday, I think I might go to a benefit lunch for one of our partner organizations and explore a small town called Mitla that is supposed to be really awesome. Then, back to the house, and then off to Chiapas, which'll be an all-night bus ride.
Exciting stuff!
Last night was way better and my higher spirits flowed into today, too. First, every night we've had a segment in the agenda called "In-depth Personal Stories", and we tended to go other places to do that. Yesterday, we went to a coworker's rooftop, where we could see most of the city, to tell our stories. After, I got two cell phones, a wfp one to use for stuff in Mexico, and then another one to use mostly to call home. I got the cheapest cell phones that didn't look like they were made of cardboard, and they are tiny and bricklike and almost identical. Then, we walked into a natural foods store. These are referred to as "naturista" stores and don't actually sell a lot of food at all, mostly loaves of dense, heavy-looking whole wheat bread and then a few shelves of vitamins and herbal supplements, henna, and other randomness. But then there was a near-empty refrigerator that had fake meats in it! We bought some soy chorizo and then one of my new coworkers and I walked to "Pizza Italia" and had some very not-Italian seeming pizza, which we purchased from an Italian man in a keffiyeh.
Talking to my parents after all that adventure was over was great. I miss them, but they were being really sweet and that makes talking to them much easier.
Today went well in terms of training, and our soy chorizo breakfast was delicious. We celebrated the successful training with a tres leches cake, and then we "decorated" our apartment, hung out, planned a bit of the day off tomorrow, and my roommate played Bob Marley while stringing up Christmas lights.
Then, we all played Apples to Apples and laughed a bunch, and since our ED has been down here for the training, she is heading out tonight and we joined her for a late meal. We went to a place really close to our apartment and ordered Oaxacan specialties, tlayudas (big, toasted tortillas filled with Oaxaca cheese (which is amazing) and other stuff--mine had black beans, onions, and mushrooms) and hot chocolate. They offered me bread for my hot chocolate (like, as a side) and I fell in love (because how can you not love a place that believes in bread as a side?!). They also brought out steamy hot bowls of a tomato-jalapeno salsa they'd just made, and a bowl of onions with hot peppers (tasted like habanero but looked very pale green and they left it seeded) and lime juice. The whole thing was delicious and now the combination of hot chocolate, good food, and general loveliness of the evening has me feeling warm and happy.
Tomorrow, we're out to buy kitchen wares and I'll probably gather up some last things before my trip to Chiapas. Saturday will probably be more exploring, maybe getting around to organic markets. Through a friend of a friend, I met someone on facebook who lives in Oaxaca and today he invited me to a metal concert he is having on saturday night! I'm definitely going to try to make it out to that! Then on Sunday, I think I might go to a benefit lunch for one of our partner organizations and explore a small town called Mitla that is supposed to be really awesome. Then, back to the house, and then off to Chiapas, which'll be an all-night bus ride.
Exciting stuff!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
tlayudas and internet
I thought for a long time about writing tonight because I am feeling whiny. I figured no one would want to read some lucky jerk who gets to up and move to Mexico complain about the minute details. Then I realized that maybe I would want to look back later and read about those things. Besides, this is the first time I've felt crappy since I was here, and I think I should document it. (Ever the documentarian!)
Today started out innocently enough. Actually, today started out well! My roommate and I went to the market and bought produce and cheese and tortillas, and we made breakfast for everyone. I had had nightmares all night last night, so it was good to get in the kitchen, which is generally a thing that makes me happy. During check-in, a couple of other people admitted they'd also had nightmares all night, which was kind of weird, but made me feel better.
The training today was actually pretty awesome. We talked about popular education, which is a thing I like, and rounded out the day with personal stories from a couple of people, which I also really enjoyed. The not-so-bright side of this is that we were basically "working" from 9 to 9, so there wasn't time for much else, including the photography show I wanted to go to.
I'm also beginning to feel weird about not cooking for myself. I just don't feel like I've been cooking enough and while I'm all for exploring Oaxaca's culinary amazingness, our meals have felt really rushed. Also, since we don't really have tons of money, we're basically eating at super-cheap places, which are easy to find here, but I don't know. It hasn't really been working for me.
I guess today I am feeling the way I felt early on into puppet tour, where I just felt out of place and weird and like there were too many feelings happening, and everyone was being too sensitive. And, much like then, I think this will all turn out great if I just take a step back from being so sensitive and find ways to make this work.
So, you see, it'll be just fine.
Today started out innocently enough. Actually, today started out well! My roommate and I went to the market and bought produce and cheese and tortillas, and we made breakfast for everyone. I had had nightmares all night last night, so it was good to get in the kitchen, which is generally a thing that makes me happy. During check-in, a couple of other people admitted they'd also had nightmares all night, which was kind of weird, but made me feel better.
The training today was actually pretty awesome. We talked about popular education, which is a thing I like, and rounded out the day with personal stories from a couple of people, which I also really enjoyed. The not-so-bright side of this is that we were basically "working" from 9 to 9, so there wasn't time for much else, including the photography show I wanted to go to.
I'm also beginning to feel weird about not cooking for myself. I just don't feel like I've been cooking enough and while I'm all for exploring Oaxaca's culinary amazingness, our meals have felt really rushed. Also, since we don't really have tons of money, we're basically eating at super-cheap places, which are easy to find here, but I don't know. It hasn't really been working for me.
I guess today I am feeling the way I felt early on into puppet tour, where I just felt out of place and weird and like there were too many feelings happening, and everyone was being too sensitive. And, much like then, I think this will all turn out great if I just take a step back from being so sensitive and find ways to make this work.
So, you see, it'll be just fine.
Monday, November 2, 2009
dia de los muertos
So, day one in Oaxaca is over. Our training began today and will go on for the next three days. If today was any indication, that means three more days of sitting around a table (with a couple of breaks) from 9 am to 6 pm, with the advantage/disadvantage of it being the kitchen table in my apartment, which means I don't necessarily have to leave the place.
We basically spent the whole day eating, which is not so bad. We had the typical Mexican big lunch, tiny dinner thing, which honestly kind of weirds me out. Lunch was pretty good mole and dinner was some sort of fried tortilla filled with potato, which is maybe the best idea ever. I got the world's most useless, tiny fork to eat it with, but still.
I actually just wrote a paragraph about things I was annoyed by, but they're boring, so I erased it. In short, there are some boring things I am annoyed by.
Today after training we went to the zocalo to look at what they call "tapetes" (which I've only ever known to mean 'rugs'), big sand sculptures on the ground, mostly of skeletons, which are then spray-painted. We also tried to go to one of the cemeteries to see how people decorated the graves of their loved ones, but they were closed by the time we got there. Fear not! There was a tiny street festival outside, with hilarious carnival games, horribly unsafe rides for tiny children, and lots of food (including doughnuts and bacon-wrapped hot dogs). Then, we started to head home but one of my coworkers spotted what looked like another event, with a stage, so we stopped to look at that. It was actually a dance happening outside of a church where you could get your cumbia on and get your picture taken with the grim reaper, dead prom queens, dead surgeons, other sundry dead people, or Montezuma (definitely dead as well).
I took my camera out, but I realized that I forgot to buy another crappy flash which I could then break, so I'm stuck with my even-crappier on-camera flash. It kind of sucked, but I tried to make the best of it. I guess I'm stuck mostly taking daytime photos for a while.
Anyway, life is good for now. So I'm going to bed.
Yay! Happy Dead Day! I hope you fed your loved ones and they will not cause mischief upon you!
We basically spent the whole day eating, which is not so bad. We had the typical Mexican big lunch, tiny dinner thing, which honestly kind of weirds me out. Lunch was pretty good mole and dinner was some sort of fried tortilla filled with potato, which is maybe the best idea ever. I got the world's most useless, tiny fork to eat it with, but still.
I actually just wrote a paragraph about things I was annoyed by, but they're boring, so I erased it. In short, there are some boring things I am annoyed by.
Today after training we went to the zocalo to look at what they call "tapetes" (which I've only ever known to mean 'rugs'), big sand sculptures on the ground, mostly of skeletons, which are then spray-painted. We also tried to go to one of the cemeteries to see how people decorated the graves of their loved ones, but they were closed by the time we got there. Fear not! There was a tiny street festival outside, with hilarious carnival games, horribly unsafe rides for tiny children, and lots of food (including doughnuts and bacon-wrapped hot dogs). Then, we started to head home but one of my coworkers spotted what looked like another event, with a stage, so we stopped to look at that. It was actually a dance happening outside of a church where you could get your cumbia on and get your picture taken with the grim reaper, dead prom queens, dead surgeons, other sundry dead people, or Montezuma (definitely dead as well).
I took my camera out, but I realized that I forgot to buy another crappy flash which I could then break, so I'm stuck with my even-crappier on-camera flash. It kind of sucked, but I tried to make the best of it. I guess I'm stuck mostly taking daytime photos for a while.
Anyway, life is good for now. So I'm going to bed.
Yay! Happy Dead Day! I hope you fed your loved ones and they will not cause mischief upon you!
Friday, October 30, 2009
going down without a fight
I have four Ativan left. Four. I haven't taken the stuff in months, to be honest, because I keep thinking that the worst is yet to come and I should save it for that time, which I guess I am assuming I will recognize as the worst immediately and without a doubt.
Tonight seems like the right night for it, but instead I am taking lots of deep breaths, and writing this. I think everything is packed. And by "everything", what I actually mean is "whatever fit into one suitcase without making it weigh over 55 pounds". One suitcase and my sweet new backpack, that is. This is not enough stuff. This is not logical. I already know there are things I am not packing: sandals of any kind, an alarm clock, an iron. My father's comment, upon inspecting my suitcase, was that I am packing "entirely too many dresses". According to him, people "don't really wear dresses" in Mexico. The observation "pants are what you will need the most" (which, let's face it, is extremely wise) was made several times.
Ultimately I can't think of too many things I just can't live without, so that's good.
So: the cell phone is cancelled, the bills are paid (mostly. the ones that aren't have been "addressed". ahem.), the car is sold (holy crap! remind me to cancel the insurance payments!), the stuff is stored, aaaand stuff is packed in a suitcase. I'm ready. Important questions like "when will WfP pay me?" or "where do they sell nutritional yeast?" have not been answered, or even asked. I told a friend of mine earlier that I've been so busy focusing on the preparations that I haven't had time to focus on what's going to happen once I get there. I have no idea what's going to happen.
A bright side in all of this is that there are people in my same boat. The other two people going down are having the same issues (what are we forgetting?!), and I guess in a way that's comforting.
I guess I wanted to capture this moment in time, mostly for myself. This is not exciting. It is painful and anxiety-inducing. It is difficult and there are lessons to be learned--about how much stuff I carry around, about my relationship with my family and people outside of it.... I am not sure that there is an amount of planning, foresight, or pre-reading that would've better prepared me for what's coming.
I am amazed by my parents, who think this is the world's worst idea, but are still watching, pitching in every once in a while when I am being absolutely irrational, and I guess in general being really emotionally generous. Maybe this seems silly, but their nudging, their way of expressing care, is really wonderful. I am grateful.
And those are the things that are keeping me glued together--not the wild enthusiasm, the sense of adventure, the need to be brave. It's the way my family still goes along with something they disagree with, because they won't let me go alone. And right now, on the brink of a time that seems like it could bring enormous loneliness, that is a wonderful feeling.
Tonight seems like the right night for it, but instead I am taking lots of deep breaths, and writing this. I think everything is packed. And by "everything", what I actually mean is "whatever fit into one suitcase without making it weigh over 55 pounds". One suitcase and my sweet new backpack, that is. This is not enough stuff. This is not logical. I already know there are things I am not packing: sandals of any kind, an alarm clock, an iron. My father's comment, upon inspecting my suitcase, was that I am packing "entirely too many dresses". According to him, people "don't really wear dresses" in Mexico. The observation "pants are what you will need the most" (which, let's face it, is extremely wise) was made several times.
Ultimately I can't think of too many things I just can't live without, so that's good.
So: the cell phone is cancelled, the bills are paid (mostly. the ones that aren't have been "addressed". ahem.), the car is sold (holy crap! remind me to cancel the insurance payments!), the stuff is stored, aaaand stuff is packed in a suitcase. I'm ready. Important questions like "when will WfP pay me?" or "where do they sell nutritional yeast?" have not been answered, or even asked. I told a friend of mine earlier that I've been so busy focusing on the preparations that I haven't had time to focus on what's going to happen once I get there. I have no idea what's going to happen.
A bright side in all of this is that there are people in my same boat. The other two people going down are having the same issues (what are we forgetting?!), and I guess in a way that's comforting.
I guess I wanted to capture this moment in time, mostly for myself. This is not exciting. It is painful and anxiety-inducing. It is difficult and there are lessons to be learned--about how much stuff I carry around, about my relationship with my family and people outside of it.... I am not sure that there is an amount of planning, foresight, or pre-reading that would've better prepared me for what's coming.
I am amazed by my parents, who think this is the world's worst idea, but are still watching, pitching in every once in a while when I am being absolutely irrational, and I guess in general being really emotionally generous. Maybe this seems silly, but their nudging, their way of expressing care, is really wonderful. I am grateful.
And those are the things that are keeping me glued together--not the wild enthusiasm, the sense of adventure, the need to be brave. It's the way my family still goes along with something they disagree with, because they won't let me go alone. And right now, on the brink of a time that seems like it could bring enormous loneliness, that is a wonderful feeling.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
It starts like this--
So here's the deal: after realizing that I was really bored at my old job and never going to go anywhere, I started looking for other jobs. Finally, I got offered a job that seemed like a sweet deal: sure, the pay is pretty much nonexistent, but I'm going to be doing social justice work in Mexico, which is a cool-sounding thing!
So I'm moving to Mexico! In a little over a month!
There are a lot of things to think about when you are leaving the country. It is probably good to have more than a month, maybe even more than two months, to wrap these things up and maybe have some time to sit and enjoy the people you love who think this is a terrible idea and the people you love who think this is a good idea. Well, I don't have that much time, so I'm spending some time being sort of ambivalent and some time being pretty hysterical. It's probably really attractive.
My problem is that I have a lot of dreams. My "living abroad and doing something intense" dream is about to come true, but I'm going to have to totally cancel my "make the revolution happen at my place of work" dream, and I'm going to have to postpone my "become a famous journalist", "go to medical school in Cuba", "open up an Etsy shop", "study social work", and "become a wedding photographer so I'm not that creeper ogling at people's wedding photos online" dreams--also, I learned last night that my newer "keep a garden year-round in sunny Mexico" dream probably won't come true, as my new apartment is surrounded by cement. Geez louise, living in Mexico is already hard and I'm not even close to doing it yet.
I'm also having massive insecurities about what this decision means for my life in general. Well, really, what I guess I mean is that I've developed a fear that this decision is actually caused by my massive insecurities which make me take the rougher path. I'm not sure if an easy life is something I think I don't "deserve", or that people can deserve it at all, but there you go. I am concerned.
Anyway, it's happening no matter what so I guess I should be way more serious about things like getting rid of my stuff, trying to sell my stuff, and moving around my stuff, but mostly I'm so tired. Today I have excuses, my (first!) flu shot and the rain. I know this rain isn't going to stop. I saw it coming.
I guess I'd better get to work anyway.
So I'm moving to Mexico! In a little over a month!
There are a lot of things to think about when you are leaving the country. It is probably good to have more than a month, maybe even more than two months, to wrap these things up and maybe have some time to sit and enjoy the people you love who think this is a terrible idea and the people you love who think this is a good idea. Well, I don't have that much time, so I'm spending some time being sort of ambivalent and some time being pretty hysterical. It's probably really attractive.
My problem is that I have a lot of dreams. My "living abroad and doing something intense" dream is about to come true, but I'm going to have to totally cancel my "make the revolution happen at my place of work" dream, and I'm going to have to postpone my "become a famous journalist", "go to medical school in Cuba", "open up an Etsy shop", "study social work", and "become a wedding photographer so I'm not that creeper ogling at people's wedding photos online" dreams--also, I learned last night that my newer "keep a garden year-round in sunny Mexico" dream probably won't come true, as my new apartment is surrounded by cement. Geez louise, living in Mexico is already hard and I'm not even close to doing it yet.
I'm also having massive insecurities about what this decision means for my life in general. Well, really, what I guess I mean is that I've developed a fear that this decision is actually caused by my massive insecurities which make me take the rougher path. I'm not sure if an easy life is something I think I don't "deserve", or that people can deserve it at all, but there you go. I am concerned.
Anyway, it's happening no matter what so I guess I should be way more serious about things like getting rid of my stuff, trying to sell my stuff, and moving around my stuff, but mostly I'm so tired. Today I have excuses, my (first!) flu shot and the rain. I know this rain isn't going to stop. I saw it coming.
I guess I'd better get to work anyway.
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