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.
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