A Whirlwind

The past few mornings, the first thought that has come into my foggy mind has been, "Where am I?" The past week has been incredibly busy, and depsite my journal-writing and note-taking habits, I am finding it quite impossible to recall everything.

Today is Monday, which means it was more than a week ago that I left Oaxaca City with Andrea. After Tuxtla Gutierrez, Chiapa del Corzo, and San Cristobal, we wrangled our way onto yet another bus and began to ride north to Palenque. We paid a bit extra for the service, but we stopped twice during the 5 hour journey. The first stopping point we came to was Agua Azul, a series of large blue pools and dramatic cascades among dense, mountainous jungle. We spotted the aqua pools through the trees and I thought, "Wow, this was totally worth the extra $5." But then we began to climb, and more pools became visible. The water was bluer, then greener, the cascades higher and stronger. It was incomparable to anything I had ever seen before.

Yes, the sides of the trail were crowded with food and souvenir vendors, but nothing could distract from the beauty of the water. Even seriously horrible translation work (one sign said "Dangerous Notto Swim") could not dampen my spirits. One thing that did stick with me, other than the beauty, was the large quanitity of EZLN/Zapatista t-shirts, backpacks, and other stuff. The sight really solidified my opinion that Marcos is as much of pop culture icon as Che, and such t-shirt stardom distracts from what those men really represent. (Still, I love my Che tee.)



After Agua Azul, we got back on the bus and headed to Misol-Ha, another waterfall closer to Palenque. In the rainy season, I'm sure the 45 meter aquatic drop would seem quite dramatic, but the streams raining down from above lacked the awe inspiring power of the previous rest-stop. The best part of the stop at Misol-Ha was that I found a man with a large knife to cut open the coconut I had purchased at Agua Azul (There was a restaurant with a fullt stocked kitchen, so my savior was no random machete-wielding fellow, although it would make a better story.)
Our arrival in Palenque was dampened by the bus driver's refusal to drop us off where we had agreed, which resulted in our having to wait by the side of the road for 20 minutes, sweaty, guarding backpacks, and weary from a long day of travels. After a bitter, maldicion sprinkled discussion with the bus driver (in Spanish, with Andrea backing me up in English) we got to where we wanted to be. The driver's disregard for our agreement with the agency, our safety, and our comfort will certainly be included in the next update emailed to the Lonely Planet guidebook company.


But ANYway, we arrived in Palenque town, found ourselves a nice hotel room for $8 each, and spent the night eating fresh baked bread and chatting. The next morning, we toured the ruins, which were great, but more crowded than I expected. The jungle had really reclaimed many of the structures, but some fantastic restoration had been completed and the contrast of the dark gray stone and the bright green grass was astounding. However, the perfectly manicured lawn in the central area of the ruins made it a bit difficult to imagine the area as it was during Palenque's golden era. The pyramids did not tower like those in Teotihuacan, I was not blown away by the engineering feat of something like flattening a hilltop (Monte Alban), but Palenque has a different kind of charm. The jungle, the sounds of the howler monkeys high above the temples, the roof combs that appear like misplaced pagodas atop Mayan temples... there was just something about it that, as I look back on that day, makes me smile and feel like I saw something really special.

I spent that night in the hippie hangout of El Panchan, right outside the Palenque ruins park, but still 4.5km outside Palenque town. Andrea had already left to return to Tehuacan, so I was on my own. And on my own I was! I had a whole 6-bed dorm to myself, and silently appreciated the multi-lingual paintings of "peace" that decorated the walls. I read. I wrote. I ate more bread. It was perfect.

Early Friday morning (6am), I got on a minibus to start the journey to Tikal, Guatemala. The first leg of the journey was to the Mexican/Guatemalan border. We then crossed the border on a small boat, traveling about 25km downstream. After that, another minibus took us over unpaved roads for 2 hours. We finally hit tarmac, and promptly got a flat tire. Miraculously, all was well again in less than 15 minutes, and we arrived in Santa Elena, the mainland counterpart to Flores, Guatemala, about 2 hours later. The whole bus load of tourists (about 12 of us) needed an ATM, so we hunted for that. After striking out at a broken machine and one in the middle of a half-hour money change, we found a gas station with an ATM and got the Guatemalan Quetzales that we all so badly needed. From Santa Elena, we drove across a small bridge to the island of Flores, in a large lake of blue water.

Flores is a tourist town, but the island is so small you can walk the whole thing in about 25 minutes. It's charming with lakeside cafes and hotels, small hostels, and good people working everywhere. I befriended a Dutchman named Tom with whom I hunted for a good hostel. We paid Q25 each (about $3) for a dorm at Hostal Doña Goya and enjoyed a hot meal for the first time all day at a lakeside restaurant named La Villa de Chef. The sunset was one the those that kept appearing to be at its peak, only to continue to light the sky redder with each passing moment.

The next day, we headed to El Remate, a small town on the other side of the lake, about halfway between Flores and the Tikal ruins. We were dually warned about crowds at Tikal, so Tom and I both thought it best to avoid the crowds and arrive at the park when the doors open at 6am. Not wanting to awake too, too early, beginning the road to Tikal from El Remate just seemed logical, as it cut the travel time in half. Little did we know that the town had it's own charm with which to romance us. Touristy, but more subdued than Flores, El Remate is a spread out village of maybe a couple hundred local folks -- most of whom must have businesses in Flores or Santa Elena with which they support their families. There was little agriculture or other evidence of subsistence existence, just a couple snack shops, three soccer fields, and then about a dozen small hotels and restaurants. Spread out on the shores of the lake, the town was most notable for the number of piers from which you can dive into the Caribbean-colored water. Horses relaxed near the waters edge in some areas, making for spectacular silhouettes come sundown. That night we went to the town fair and road the ferris wheel. The spectacle of foreigners on the big wheel attracted crowds of spectators. I had never before seen so many people stand to watch a wheel go around and around. But it appeared well constrcuted and maintained, although it was powered by nothing more than a large piece of farm equipment. We spun rapidly, but without so much as a shake or rattle. It was a great ride. My hotel room that night cost $4.

Finally, Sunday morning, I reached Tikal ruins. It was foggy and cool and entirely void of tourists. I saw all the major ruins before the crowds arrived around noon, and I marveled at the massive pyramids under the cool shade of towering ceibos and other jungle vegetation. My first impression of Tikal was good, but not great. I expected monkeys crawling on the ruins, toucans scattered among the leaves above, and parrots calling out for crackers from hidden shadows in the forest. This was not the case. But as I readjusted my perspective and began to look at Tikal as a sprawling, jungle of limestone buildings set in an even more sprawling jungle of trees and plants, I began to feel the awe that I had expected. From high above Temple IV, I could see the tops of all the trees, and the tops of several pyramids towering over that. I saw parrots and heard the call of several howler monkeys. But it was not until Temple V, pictured at the right, that I fell in love with Tikal. (That's me on the stairs.) The symmetry of the stairs, the rounded corners, and the steep, steep angle at which it was all put together set it apart from not only everything else at Tikal, but all the other Mayan and Aztec sites I have seen. The view from the top was tremendous, and I finally got a glimpse (a long one, too) of a howler mom carrying her baby from treetop to treetop. The miracles of nature and those of mankind spread out before me in harmony, and as I look back on it, I feel more certain than ever that the search for "small wonders" has motivated humans for as long as we have walked the earth.

¡Vive Chiapas!

Today I write from San Cristobal de Las Casas, a small mountain town in the state of Chiapas. This place was made famous on January 1, 1994 when it was captured by the Zapatistas, a radical group fighting for indigenous people's rights in Chiapas. The Zapatistas, led by the pipe-smoking, masking-wearing Subcomandante Marcos, apologized to San Cristobal tourists for the incovenience, saying, "We're sorry, but this is a revolution."
Today, San Cristobal is a buzzing town of indigneous artisans, hippies who have adopted the town as their second home, and tourists from around the world. The Zapatista influence is still strong, but as the group has no ambition to overthrow the government ("We're indigenous and Mexican"), it is quite a tranquil area. Rebellious antics continue in pursuit of equal rights for indigenous Mexicans (1 out of every 4 people in Chiapas is Mayan) and in the hope of forcing the government to honor accords made with the indigenous peoples throughout the 1990s, but most are nonviolent and aimed directly at the landowners who persecute the indigenous people. There are lots of Zapatista-named stores, streets, and organizations in town. Many artisans sell Subcomandante Marcos t-shirts and other wares, but his status as a cult icon has shifted to that of Che Guevara-esque pop culture stardom.

Last night, I attended a Frida Kahlo documentary screening at a local independent film house. Before the show, a group of local children from the organization Sueniños performed a puppet show. They adapted traditional Latin American stories for the theater, working everyday after school on the project under the supervision of a handful of passionate volunteers. The kids are all younger than 10, come from the poorest areas in the city, and were in danger of failing out of school before they joined the program. It was quite an inspiring display, in contrast to the documentary which painted Frida as a poor victim of heartbreak. Although I disagree with the filmmaker's perspective that she was trapped in a marriage with a man who could not be blamed for his infidelity, the movie was still quite good. Several Kahlo experts were interviewed, and their perspectives provided a good balance to the bias of the narration.

After the movie last night, Andrea and I went to Bar Revolucion, where we heard some sappy live music but made a few new friends. We stayed out pretty late last night -- this town stays alive well past midnight. Although it's quite cold (we are 2100 meters above sea level), the air is so fresh it's hard to avoid staying outside until all hours.

Tomorrow, I am headed to Palenque and then it's east to Guatemala for a couple days in the Tikal/Flores area. I am excited to keep traveling, but I have fallen in love with this town. I could definitely see myself coming back here to volunteer at a local school or work on some sort of community development project.


The energy here is great. There are a lot of open minded folks, diverse restuarants, lots of bookstores, and -- of course -- great local crafts. The streets and sidewalks are narrow, but cobblestoned in the European style. The days are cool, but the sun is strong. It feels like winter in the shade, but Mexican summer in the sun. Hostels are cheap (40 pesos per night), the food is good (I bought a Vietnamese stiry fry dish for 60 pesos and got two meals out of it), and everything is clean. Chiapas is Mexico's poorest state, so you can really see the positive impact tourism has made on the local economy. But keeping things eco-friendly is a challenge. Also, the surrounding indigenous towns host tour groups several times a day and while it would be cool to observe the locals who drink soda to keep evil spirits at bay, it's a challenging ambition to observe and respect simultaneously. I opted out of the 100 peso guided horseback tour to San Juan de Chamula. Making people into a stop on a guided tour is a dangerous habit... I think it dehumanizes people and makes them into objects of entertainment, which is contrary to the ideals of most of the tourists here in the first place. Then again, this is the same issue that you always confront when chasing intercultural interaction, and the only solution is to simply be careful of yourself, your fellow tourists, and the impression you leave on the people you visit.

I'll leave you with that thought. But for your entertainment, here are a couple photos from this past week.


Jessica visited me last week, and we went to Oaxaca, which was quite cool. We also visited Monte Alban, the ruins outside Oaxaca City, perched on a mountain top. Check it out -- no other tourists. It was beautiful.










After Jess headed back to the States, Erick and I went back to Oaxaca State and visited San Jose del Pacifico. This tiny, tiny town is located on the edge of some incredible Oaxacan peaks. We rented a cute little cabin. This is the view from our front door.









We had to wait for a loooooong time to get a bus back to Oaxaca City, but we kept ourselves entertained. Behold, the first blog picture of Erick.











I met up with Andrea in Oaxaca City, and we took an overnight bus to Tuxtla Gutierrezx. From there, we took the short ride to Chiapa del Corzo, a small town beside a huge canyon. We toured el Cañon del Sumidero by boat, and I was luckily able to snap some amazing photos. We saw a lot of crocodiles, too.

This past weekend, I finally climbed el Cerro Colorado, a small mountain outside Tehuacan. I had previously planned to climb el cerro three times, but my ambitions were thwarted by a hurricane, a cold, and the lack of transportation. Needless to say, I was looking forward to the climb excitedly.

I awoke at 6:40am on Saturday, as the cerro is a cactus covered mound of dry dirt and rock, hardly offering the shade of a cactus flower. To avoid the heat, my goal was to start the climb before 8am. At 8:10, I started trekking across a wide plain of donkeys and crops, towards the base of the mountain. I had to jump across a literal river of shit before reaching the bottom of the trail. It was disgusting, more so than anything I have ever seen before.

But anyway, the climb started with a steep incline, but then leveled off for several kilometers. I expected the hike to take three hours, but I reached the peak in two. I think I actually could have done it faster, but knowing that coming back down can be as exhausting as the climb up, I figured there was no point in pushing it. Out of my group of four, I was actually the first to the top. It was a liberating experience to stand at the edge of the upper plateau and look down on my city. I am really proud that I was first to the top, as I ever never been the fastest at anything except, well, reading. But I guess all the walking I do to and from school has really helped out my little legs muscles.

At the top of this mountain, there is a big cross that sort of overlooks the whole Tehuacan valley. There is a ladder inside, so I -- of course -- climbed to the top of the cross. For about ten minutes, I was the tallest thing in the Tehuacan valley, which was very cool. I had three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while at the peak, and took a few pictures. There were lots of butterflies everywhere, and one actually landed on my hand! It stayed there for almost 3 minutes, and I was luckily able to snap a few photos. Coupled with the rainbow earlier in the week, I was feeling showered in good omens.

I certainly am lucky. I have had a great time here in Tehuacan, and although I am really excited to travel east to Chiapas and Guatemala and then south to Nicaragua, I am a bit sad about leaving this place. So many great people have touched my life here, and I have rarely felt as loved as I have felt the past few months. I hope this is not the last time I walk the streets of this town.

Somewhere over the arco iris...

Monday afternoon, I had the urge to play outside, even though it had been thundering and the clouds were threatening heavy rain. I must have been having a premonition of something good to come. David and I climbed up the hill at San Lorenzo, just outside Tehuacan, for a view of the city. And when we got there, what a sight there was waiting for us!

The arco iris (rainbow) was one of the brightest I have ever seen, which caused me to obsess over taking pictures of it. Luckily, this was quite easy to do. My house is probably somewhere in this picture to the left (in the lower right hand corner), but I have no idea where.

My city, my rainbow, and me. It was so pretty -- these pictures hardly capture it.

I also took some pictures from the car on the way back to school. By then, the rainbow was even more incredible, and it arced across the whole sky.

That's all for now. Happy rainbow hunting!

Puebla Party People

This past weekend, I spent one night outside of Tehuacan, but when I came back so much had changed that I felt like I'd been away for 2 weeks. First of all, my host family set up a computer with internet in the previously unused and unfurnished front living room! I am posting from my house, it's fantastic! Secondly, when I ventured out back on the way to my room last night, the dog was unleashed! Yup, our St. Bernard was free to roam the back courtyard, and free to molest me as I attempted to climb the stairs up to my room. (This morning when I awoke, he was back on the leash. No surprise...) I don't know what spurned these sudden changes, but they are generally welcome ones, especially the part about having furniture and internet access in the living room. I am spoiled.

Saturday afternoon, David and I took the 3:20 bus to Puebla. David's old friend, Rudy, lives there and was planning to throw a party Saturday night, so it seemed like the perfect weekend for a visit. Rudy picked us up at the bus station in a taxi -- his taxi. He was off duty, but it's still the thing he drives. I had never been in a taxi diriven by anyone younger than 45 in this country, let alone someone who speaks fluent English. Needless to say, it was the best taxi ever.

We arrived at Rudy's house around 5:30, where I met his sweet little puppy and cracked open an ice cold bottle of Noche Buena, a seasonal beer that is only around for the holiday season. Noche Buena translates directly as "good night," but it's also the phrase that Spanish speakers use to talk about Christmas Eve. Noche Buena is not only delicious, but also a self-fulfilling prophecy. There were about 10 or 11 other people at Rudy's party, but it felt like fifty. I hadn't laughed that hard in a long time. Among the party people was Rudy's dad, who is the guy caught in a fit of laughter in the picture above (Rudy is the one in black at the top). He was a riot of a man, and great company -- plus, he was incredibly tolerant of the fact that his house was being taken over by a dozen rowdy 20-somethings. You've got to give the man a hand.

David and I were planning to spend the night at a nearby hotel, but Rudy and his dad wouldn't hear of it, so we crashed in spare bedroom upstairs. I have no idea what time it was that I crawled into the cozy, fleece-adorned bed, but it was definitely after eating three servings of cheesy potatoes (deeeelicious!). Miraculously, I awoke hungry the next morning, so while David went through his beauty routine (that spikey hair takes some work), Rudy and I made a batch of pancakes. Our achievement was quickly minimized, however, by the fact that Rudy and David both wanted pizza. As they argued over where to go, I flipped through the channels on the TV and watched part of the Raiders game. It was beginning to feel a lot like home. This feeling would only grow as we ended up driving to Domino's and ordering two large pizzas. For the record, the "large" here, is really like a medium in the States. I don't know why they do that, but I think it's just an attempt to make people think they are getting more for their money. Anyway, my second attempt at Mexican Domino's pizza was more successful than the first. Whereas the first time I got the 4 Cheese, which includes liquid nacho cheese, this time I got mushrooms and it was saboroso to the max (that means really good).

Rudy was kind enough to drive us back to Tehuacan in the taxi, so I arrived at my house last night sometime before 9pm. The ride was incredible, as the moon was doing this really-low-on-the-horizon-looking-like-a-giant-
orange-in-the-sky thing. I had never seen a moon so big except for one amazing night on the ship during Semester at Sea. There was no way I could have captured it through the window of a moving car, so I didn't try. But I had taken pictures from the bus on the way to Puebla, which were also quite nice. Mountains... cactus... palms... entertaining shapes in the clouds.... ah, Mexico.

Now I only have two more weeks of teaching left. My students are learning a couple new things this week, and then next week we will review together for their final. I won't be supervising the administration of their finals, since I'll be trapsing through Central Mexico with my sister, but the school director is going to keep an eye on my students for me, which is nice. Jessica and I will probably head south from Mexico City to explore a bit of Oaxaca. After she returns to the States, I'll be headed all the way to Guatemala, by way of the Oaxaca Coast and Chiapas. I can't believe the time for that is almost here. The last month has gone by so very fast. I am beginning to feel anxious about leaving all the friends I have made here, especially the spikey-haired bartender with whom I tend to pass the days. But ah, the world is calling to me. After New Year's with David, I'm off to Nicaragua for five weeks. I can hardly believe that all this adventure is really happening to me -- I am such a lucky gal.

International Insomniac

Tonight I find myself writing from under the covers of my glorious bed in Columbia, MD. No, I am not hallucinating, I am in the United States. Thanks to a generous plane ticket of a gift from my mom, I am spending 80 hours at home -- an all too short visit with my beloved friends and family. However, tonight (my third night north of the border), the sandman has refused to come, and so here I sit, the light of my laptop reflecting in my eyes, while the Discovery Channel broadcasts dreamlike images of Earth into my bedroom. (Planet Earth is still the best show ever.)

The voyage to Columbia -- and it does deserve to be called that -- began at 5:45 Friday morning when I arose in my Tehuacan bedroom. After a quick shower and even quicker breakfast, I walked the seven or eight blocks to the bus station, with my Vietnamese day-pack strapped to my back and a purseful of transportation documents on my shoulder. I arrived 20 minutes before the departure of my prompt 7:00 bus. Arriving in Mexico City at 10:30, I had several hours to kill, as my flight to the States would not depart until 3:20pm. I locked up my belongings at the bus station, and set off to explore.

After a short metro ride and a long walk, I arrived at the zocalo, the city center and middle of the MC historic district. I was prepared for some street vendor browsing, crowded intersections, and a cheap lunch. I was not prepared for the sight which greeted me: 100 men dancing in the street, clad only in shoes and tiny, strategically placed signs displaying the face of a Mexican senator. That was it. 100 naked men... dancing. Yeah.

It turns out, the men were actually accompanied for a dozen or so similarly clad (or rather, unclad) women, who sported nothing but shoes. The women, naked from head to ankle, tan, and jiggling all over the place, were handing out fliers. From the flier, I learned that this enthusiastic crew was part of a movement called the 400 Villages, which represents the rights of indigenous farmers based in the state of Veracruz. The villagers had traveled to Mexico City to hold this demonstration in protest of Senator Dante Delgado, the former governor of Veracruz. The demonstrators accuse Delgado of stealing their land and "demand the return of the land of the dispossessed and incarcerated." (direct translation from flier)

The sight of the dancing men, unencumbered by clothing, and the appeals of the woman haunted me for the rest of the day. It was a sight unlike any I had ever seen. It proved not only that Mexico City has no public indecency law, but that democracy and peaceful protect in Mexico City really functions better than in most U.S. cities. After I watched the protest for a few minutes, I continued my walk around the historic district. Two blocks from the zocalo, I saw a smaller gathering of unarmed police officers. They seemed prepared to intervene at the protest, should the need arise. But I don't think it did.

The protest was stunning, dramatic, even crude, yet perfectly legal and perfectly managed by law enforcement. It made me a little jealous to see such a well-functioning peaceful protest, but then I began to think: are these protests only tolerated because the police know they will be fruitless? After all, this has been going on for years. Or will this desperate cry for the public's attention and the government's reparations be successful? Learn more about the story here.

I had to return to the bus station at 1:00, and after that I headed to the airport. After confusion among airport staff as to where to send Delta customers for check-in (the counter just moved to the newest wing), I was rushed through check-in and security with my plane mates. We left on time and flew over New Orleans right at sunset. After a layover in Atlanta, I landed in DC at 11:15pm. Met by my mom and stepdad, my sister, and her fiance, I found the homecoming to be everything I hoped. After the airport, we went to IHOP and chit chatted over hot chocolate, coffee, pancakes, eggs, and french toast for 2 hours.

On Saturday, I lounged around the house until late afternoon, when I enjoyed a delicious Thanksgiving dinner at Pittsburgh South (my friends' house in McLean, Virginia). My late fall good cravings fulfilled, I met more friends and family today in Columbia for bagel brunch. Chinese food for dinner with Dad rounded off the weekend of indulgence. Tomorrow I have some stateside errands to run (banking, a haircut, battery shopping), lunch with one friend in Baltimore, and then dinner with another in DC. I leave for my journey back to Tehuacan at 7:55 Tuesday morning. This whirlwind weekend is the result of more than 30 hours of travel -- but so far it's all been worth it.

My return to Mexico will mark the beginning of the end of the semester -- just three more weeks of classes. Then, I'll start a 20 day backpacking journey that will take me as far as Tikal, Guatemala. I hope to find the answers to some of my Mexico questions on trip, but I know that the journey will leave me with more question marks than could ever be erased in 20 days.

Adventures in Coyomeapan

This past weekend I went to Coyomeapan, a small mountain town near Oaxaca, with David, Andrea, and Estefano. On Friday, we drove for two hours through dusty towns and down bumpy roads. We made a couple wrong turns, but over all, the trip was uneventful and we arrived at our destination a couple hours before sunset.

We stayed at Cabañas Las Flores, owned by a retired couple who really know how to treat ther guests. We ate a delicious dinner, then explored a bit of the town. There wasn't much to see, but it was nice to stretch our legs and explore the muddy streets.

That night, we had some drinks and played cards next to the fire in our cabin. The señor prepared the fire for us, brought us poker chips, and hung out for a while. He is a well-traveled, interesting man and he was great company. The next morning, he led us on a hike down to a beautiful river. I twisted my ankle, so we went back a little earlier than expected. Along the way, David and the señor picked wild flowers for me, which totally made my day. On the way back to the cabins, we stopped in an old abandoned house that had been built 200 years ago. It's rumored to be haunted -- I'm not so sure about that, but it was definitely creepy. However, the view from the house was beautiful. After a couple beers and a medicine-man type episode in which our tour guide spit alcohol on my ankle, I felt 100% better.

Late that night, Estefano and David returned to the haunted house (with my flashlight). I believe Estefano got so freaked out that he actually asked David to hug him. I kick myself everytime I think about the fact that I missed this hilarity... but a girl has got to get her beauty sleep.

Here are some pictures from the weekend:



Coyomeapan -- view from the cabins.















The pretty river.














View from the "haunted" house.















Wildflowers! (this picture was totally staged, but I still think it's sweet)
















The crew: Estefano, Andrea, David, and me. Our kickass tourguide/owner of the cabins is in front.

Bread of Death

Well folks, this has officially been the easiest and most exciting week in Tehuacan thus far. I gave my students a practice version of the TOEFL (Test Of English as a Foreign Language), and that took all of class Monday and Tuesday. Today, we don't have classes because it is Halloween and there is a school-wide party tonight. Not being able to afford a costume (or all that jazzed about the idea of dressing up), I am going as the Spirit of Halloween. My "costume" consists of a black shirt, the cute new orange sweater that my wonderful mom mailed me from the States, and lots and lots of black and orange face paint. I was going to be an American Football player, but as I started putting my costume together I began to look more and more like Troy Polamalu, and I decided that this costume would be best worn in an environment where it could be rightfully appreciated (read: Pittsburgh or some other football town).

Tomorrow and Friday, school is closed in honor of El Dia de Los Muertos (the Day of the Dead). To help David's family prepare, the boy and I went to La Purisima, which is Tehuacan's largest market. It brought me right back to Costa Rica. We bought yellow candles made of honey, decorative paper to hang in the bar, candies, some dried fruit that was so sweet that it tastes like pure sugar, a skull-shaped coffee mug, and pan de muerto (bread of death) which tastes like challah, but is drier and has cinnamon in it. (Doesn't "bread of death" sound like it belongs in an Eddie Izzard standup routine?)

At the market, I saw a ton of cool candies shaped like household items (kitchen tables, bedroom furniture, trees, pets, etc.) which people traditionally use to make dioramas representing their dead ancestors in celebration of the holiday. But David's family isn't really into that, nor is mine, so there will no diorama-making for me this year. (frown)

On Friday, I'm headed to the mountain town of Coyomeapan with Mary and Andrea, Estefano, David, and one or two of his friends. There are cabañas there that are supposedly quite comfy. There is also a lake and lots of pretty things to see. Three meals a day are included in the $25 nightly fee. We will be staying there until Sunday, and my wonderful gentleman friend is helping me out by paying for one of my nights in the cabins. So I'll be taking a 3-day, 2-night all inclusive vacation for $25. All right, maybe it's not quite that posh. We are bringing our own snacks and imbibements, and we have to pay for the gas to get to our spot (it's 3 hours a way), but the whole trip still seems like it will be a great value even if I was going to be paying full price.

In other travel news, I'll be making a brief Stateside appearance in November thanks to my incredibly generous and loving mother, who has purchased a round trip plane ticket for me for the 4-day weekend I have in mid-November in honor of the Mexican Revolution. Since I was expecting a number of familial and platonic visitors over the holidays (all of whom have since canceled), this trip home will be extra special. I am still UTTERLY excited that my splendid sister is coming to visit in December, but now going to Maryland for 3 days is icing on my passport-carrying cake.

I'm sorry for the lack of Tehuacan pictures, which have been requested by a number of people. But batteries here are expensive, especially the long-lasting lithium AAs for cameras. During my brief visit to Maryland, I'll be hoarding lithium batteries and go on a photo-taking tear when I return to Tehuacan.

Finally, an update related to the previous post entitled "Sighted in Tehuacan." Before Game 3 of the recent World Series, the announcers did a retrospective report on the '97 World Series (Indians versus Marlins). They made a comment about the Indians tough closer and, no joke, referred to him in English as JOE TABLE! So it's offical: Jose Mesa has the most chuckled-at name in baseball on both sides of the border.

Fotos (episodio 3)

...in which I appear in the local paper, and behold, the boy smiles...






Every week, the paper prints a page about stuff that happened over the weekend. It's sort of a "Happening in Tehuacan". Two weeks ago, we ran into this well known reporter at our favorite bar/club, Dharma. Well, he had his camera, but we thought there wasn't a chance that the pictures he took would end up anywhere but on his laptop. We were wrong. Check out the bottom, right corner.












A close up. (Right to Left: Me, David, Estefano, and Andrea). Note that the caption reads The "Horse" accompanied by his friends. David is "el caballo." Back in the day, he had really long hair and his ponytail earned him a nickname that stuck. So he gets in the paper with his nickname, while the rest of us are nothing but "companions." However, I really shouldn't complain seeing as I look like a prom date while 'Fano and Andi look like sloppy drunks. So it goes...















We had a party last weekend at David's family's empty house. We made a campfire and camped out in the yard and everything. Here are a bunch of people being ridiculous. I enjoy that. (Left to Right: Oswaldo, some guy, Luis, another Luis, Pepe, and David).

David and his bud Luis (and me). Luis is in love with Mary (see previously posted picture of us being in love with our hot chocolate). Unfortunately for Luis, Mary is seeing someone. Fortunately for Luis, most of the time "being in love" in Tehuacan means thinking someone is goodlooking and not an idiot.

David, Pepe, and me. I heart Pepe. He and David have been friends since elementary school. See how the Mexicans don't smile?

Wait, what is that? Is it the beginning of a smile? ...

VICTORY!

Some random notes. I watched games 4-7 of the ALCS. Go Sawx. Those last two games were particularly satisfying since David's family was rooting for the Indians, and they implied they know more about baseball than I do. Oh, silly fools. Now they know better... Despite my great joy over the Mediorojos victory last night, there is a black cloud in my heart. Losing to the freaking Broncos by 3 points with 2 seconds remaining in the game is NOT how I imagined the triumphant return of the of-injured Ward and Polamalu. But the world keeps turning....

I am running out of Mexican things to talk about, so email me at smallwonderblog@gmail.com, and let me know what you want to know. I'd love to do a mailbag, but like I said -- I don't have anything to write about.

Fotos (episodio 2)

>

Mary and I are in love with our hot chocolates... or are they in love with us? (Italian Coffee Company)

I'm sorry that the boy doesn't smile. It's a macho thing. It's also 2:30 in the morning and freezing cold outside. Thank goodness for campfires. (Puerto del Aire)

In the morning, the fog begins to lift. Sorry I don't have better pictures... next time. (Puerto del Aire)

Sighted in Tehuacán

Although homogenity rules the coop here in the City of Health, this past weekend I spotted a gay couple openly flirting in the town square. It was incredible... score one for diversity! Other unusual things spotted this week -- two apparently pure bred stray dogs (yellow labs); three healthy, vibrant kittens; license plates from Utah, Minnesota, and Iowa.

In other news, I watched the Steelers game yesterday. It was a blast, not only because the Black & Gold won 21-0, but because I could actually hear the commentators who really know their stuff. Here is a direct translation of the commentary during a Steelers drive in the 3rd quarter:

He's past the 35, the 30, the 25 yard line. And he's down at the 20. The
Steelers are in the Red Zone, the Ketchup Zone!

Yup, he said ketchup. Well, he said "salsa de tomate," but somehow that makes it even cooler.

Also, on a quasi-related note, my family and I watch the news everyday before lunch. The anchor's name? Jorge Salsa. If we translate that to Pittsburghese, the dude's name is Georgie Ketchup. Almost as good as everyone's favorite Latino pitcher, Mr. Joe Table.

La Limpieza

I know it's been a while since my last entry, so I apologize for the apparent banality of my chosen topic, but I just have to get his off my chest: cleaning in Mexico is hilarious.

Sure Mexicans are notorious for sweeping the sidewalks and the streets in front of their homes. But I doubt that this actually achieves the goals of removing dirt -- instead it just moves the dirt from the ground to the air where one of two things happens. 1) The dirt is enhaled by passersby like me, who sneeze appoximately 25 times a day. 2) The dirst blows around until a draft of cool air carries it into a home, where it settles on bedsheets, kitchen counters, hallway floors, and oven burners. The result? Everything needs to be dusted once a day. But people dust with the same rag everyday, resulting in the creation of a muddy paste of dirt and water. When wiping doesn't suffice anymore, people use laundry detergent to wipe down the counters in the kitchens and bathrooms. So everything smells linen fresh, but nothing is actually disinfected! This is all fine by me because everyone's clothes smell great, but sprinkling powdered laundry detergent on my bathroom coutner every Sunday still seems a bit bizarre. However, I am building up a grand immunity to Mexican germs.

And I do have to admit that I have come to love cleaning here. All the floors are tiled. In fact my entire bathroom and kitchen are tiled up to the ceiling. So when it's time to clean, we just thrown buckets of water everywhere and after an hour it all drains away or evaporates. Sometimes I think it would be best to do it all carwash style -- in my bathing suit with music blaring and a gang of friends. But then again, I clean with laundry detergent so whatever splashes onto my clothes only makes them fresher!


On another, completely unrelated note -- someone kidnapped my family's little dog, Frida, last night. She was small and gray and had a curly tail that wagged in circles. She shall be missed. Her owner, my hostsister Jossie, is unaware of her disappearance because she is away at university and only comes home on weekends. I fear her reaction when she discovers this tragedy. I plan to strategically avoid my house this Friday afternoon. The kidnapping occurred sometime between 5 and 9pm. She is afraid of the street, so she couldn't have run away. But one of the painters who was working on the front of the house left the gate open and my host mom is certain that someone came in and took her. ¡Pobrecita, Frida! I hope she has found a new, happy home.

News Bites

BREAKING NEWS: The other day, I had what can only be described as a Mexican matzah ball. It was made with corn meal, I assume, but the texture and color were sure matzah-ish! What´s more: I came across it in my bowl of chicken soup! Deeeelicious, but still no comparison to the ones my mom makes.

This past Saturday was Mexican Independence day. An otherwise un-noteworthy day was punctuated with a riotous time at a new club in town, Dharma. Being in Dharma must have brought me good Karma because I met someone who I am now dating. Wow things happen fast here! His name is David, he listens to ska, has an NFL and an NBA blanket, and he loves Jack Black. On our first date, we went hiking in the most beautiful valley ever, Puerto del Aire (think Jurassic Park meets "Are You Afraid of the Dark?") and watched Nacho Libre (his selection). After seven hours of Spanglish, we felt like old friends. On our second date, he gave me a mix CD. I´m smitten.

David´s parents own a billiard hall/bar with huge TVs everywhere and a great soundsystem. I eat and drink for free there (his parents are really generous and sweet) AND David said they get ESPN, EPSN 2, Fox Sports, and more. HELLO baseball playoffs and football! I am psyched to have a place to chill and watch my teams. HERE WE GO STEELERS! We can also watch all the European soccer matches. Today there was an FC Barcelona game -- it´s sports heaven.

The weather has turned from cloudy and hot to windy, cloudless, and hot. After this wind, the cold is supposed to come. I got a taste of it this past weekend, and although it was hard to believe at first -- it got really cold! I am going to have to purchase more sweatshirts or at least start layering. It´s nuts. These mountains make the weather crazy. But the morning clouds are fantastic. SASers, imagine Table Mountain surrounded by dramatic peaks of gray rock and cactus. It´s awe-inspiring, and I get a view every morning during my walk to work.

Fotos

I am having problems uploading photos to the blog, so I am posting them on Webshots until Blogger straightens out its technical problems.

This past weekend, I went to Mexico City (el distrito federal) with two of the other teachers, Mary and Andrea. We stayed at a really amazing hostel right near the zocalo and almost on top of the metro stop. It was clean and beautiful and had lots of plants. Our beds were amazingly comfortable, and it was silent at night. There was also free internet and a small buffet breakfast. It only cost $10 per person for everything. Long live Hostel Mexico City!

We walked around the historic part of the city on Saturday and saw a lot of action in anticipation of the upcoming Independence Day holiday. There were decorations everywhere, carnival rides in the zocalo, lots of performers, a small art festival, and lots of live music. It was INTENSE, but wonderful. Mexico City has a population of 22 million, which is more than the whole of Australia!

On Sunday, we went to Teotihuacan, which is the largest of all the Aztec ruins in Mexico. It was really cool. We didn´t even get to see everything, but what we did see was really cool. It was only an hour away from the city, so I hope to go back. I climbed the Palace of the Sun and saw an amazing view of all the ruins.

Check out pictures by going here http://travel.webshots.com/album/560611672mFrQYP?vhost=travel&start=36.

The Price of Self-Awareness

Ian Buruma´s introduction to V.S. Naipaul´s A House for Mr Biswas has made me more aware than ever of the internal journey that has been catalyzed by my travels.

Buruma says that the only way to become truly self-aware is to remove oneself from the daily rituals that create the sense of home to which everyone clings. The people who look after us, the habits, the language -- none of this can be truly understood without completely removing oneself from one´s native surroundings. But when a person breaks free from the patterns and conditions of home, she risks losing everything valuable about that place: the comfort it offers.

Stepping back from our native lives forces us to risk losing the connections to the people who looked after us as children. Gaining a deeper understanding of our native rituals as more than just the motions we go through causes us to sacrifice receiving comfort from those rituals. And when the safety and comfort of home are gone, there is nothing left to do but keep moving. The more we explore beyond our native land, the more self-aware we become -- but the more inconsolable we become, as well.

And here, Buruma says, enters the importance of the written word. For Naipaul, the tradition of funerals provides no relief from the melancholy that accompanies losing a loved one -- no comfort from the fear of his own mortality. But words that last, the written word, provide a path to refuge from the sadness and fear.

When the words don´t come, there is no escape from the pain. Words become both mother and father -- nurturing and encouraging us and pushing us further down the road of exploration. The more we write, the further from home we find ourselves. The words gain exponential importance. They push us away from what we´ve known, but bind our feet to the earth, also. The words help us find our path. As we trod along the road of exploration, we gain self-awareness, and the words are our sole companion. But as the path becomes more clear, it becomes ever more impossible to go back; as the road opens before us, it close in our wake. There is never any going home, as home is no longer there to us.

The yearning for self-awareness is born of chaos in one´s life -- be it externally perpetuated or an internal struggle. People search for truth and peace by developing many (often destructive) habits. But for me, as with Naipual, inner peace is achieved through the adventure of exploration -- the physical removal of ourselves from our chaotic surroundings and the search for comfort from the written word.

When home cannot protect us from our fears, we turn to writing to open the door to immortality and peace. Family can never guarantee our ability to leave something behind -- only words. Once the initial break from home is made, travel becomes self-perpetuating. And when self-awareness becomes painful, the only relief is to continue searching until we discover the root of the pain. Then, we write about it.

Algunas Fotos

Check it out! I moved! This is my new bedroom.


And this is my sweet bathroom!


And this is me with my host brother, Estefano, and one of the other teachers, Haley, on top of a big hill where there is a church that overlooks the Tehuacan Valley.


And here is something I can´t escape (not that I would want to)!

La Ciudad de Salud

TEHUACAN, Puebla, Mex. -- Officially, my family eats two meals a day: breakfast and lunch. In reality, it´s more like five: breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, and bed time snack. It usually goes something like this...

Most mornings, everyone has fruit, toast, fried tortillas, and coffee. They drink NesFrappe, the instant cappuccino mix made by Nestle. I find it tasty, but ironic. This is a coffee-exporting country, and yet every Mexican I know drinks instant Swiss grounds!

Around 11:00, it is time for brunch -- usually tortillas and fruit, maybe some beans and more coffee. This is also around the time that the taco/tortilla lady comes to the house. She walks around the neighborhood, selling freshly baked tortillas and freshly fried tacos door to door. People buy the tacos in bunches of 3 or 4 and eat all of them at once, in addition to their mid-morning ¨snack.¨

Between 2:30 and 3:30, it is time for lunch, the biggest meal of the day. Carefully prepared meat, chiles, tomatoes, and more are combined and serve as the main dish. My host mom is awesome and has started buying turkey and soy-based meats to accommodate my ¨no red meat¨ lifestyle choice. I was surprised to find out that turkey hot dogs and soy sausage are readily available here. And my mom is a great cook -- everything she makes is delicious, so much so that it is hard to believe that it isn´t real steak. But I have read the packaging and it´s true -- she´s amazing. Anyway, along with the meat we get rice or beans, fried tortillas, regular tortillas, and sometimes some vegetables and fresh juice. All of this is followed by dessert. The other day, my family and I made a stop at Sam´s Club, and I introduced them to cheesecake. This was probably a mistake, but more about that later.

After lunch, I usually am stuffed and feel like never eating again. Usually, I don´t eat for the rest of the day, but my host mom complains that I am starving myself, and Monse (age 12) says I eat less than a bird. Fortunately for me, I miss the next meal because I am in class.

Around 8:00pm, a ¨light¨dinner is served: beans, tortillas, and chiles. My host mom sometimes pickles the chiles and serves them as a side dish. They are a hit with everyone in the family. But, like I said, I feel fortunate to skip this meal.

I get home from work around 9:00 or 9:30. Around 10:00 or so, the two youngest kids go to the store to get their night time snacks -- cookies, candy, or more fried stuff.

I think on an average day, the kids eat about 3,000 calories. They´re all chubby, but not as fat as you might expect. I believe that school mandates a certain period of exercise each day, and they do walk a lot, I suppose. But I think the biggest factor is the elevation. People must burn more calories when they live at high elevations because the air is thinner. Their bodies work harder to carry oxygen to all the muscles and organs. This means that even when I am sitting still, I am burning more calories than I would being sedentary in Maryland. And at 5,500 feet, Tehuacan´s air is pretty thin.

However, eating like this over the course of a lifetime certainly does cause health problems. High blood pressure is very common, but heart disease is not the number on killer. In fact, intestinal problems like colon cancer claim more lives in Central and South American than anything else. Because of this, people are making a greater effort to incorporate more fiber into their diets. Therefore, foods like All Bran and other high fiber cereal and snacks are gaining popularity. But they are expensive, and the poorest people can´t afford these ¨luxuries.¨I think it would be a heck of a lot easier, anyway, to just cut tortilla consumption in half -- especially the fried stuff. Eating 2 or 3 tortillas per meal is just crazy! But man, are they good.

Like many other foods here, the tortillas are different than those we´re familiar with north of the border. First, here they´re made with corn, instead of flour. Second, they are only about 5 or 6 inches in diameter. But rememeber, people eat 10 or 15 a day.

Many times, tortillas are stuffed with about 2 ounces of chicken, rolled tightly, and deep fried. This is called a taco. No lettuce. No tomato. Salsa and sour cream are served on the side as dipping sauces or drizzled over the top when the tacos are served on a plate. It´s greasy, greasy, greasy. But the night street vendors sell them for less than a buck a piece and they are delievered door to door, so it is unlikely that they will lose popularity anytime soon.

I hope my attempts to keep my calorie intake below 2,000 doesn´t cause my host mom to have an aneurysm!

Tehuacan is called ¨the city of health,¨ but this is obviously not a reference to the local diet. This city is home to some of the best mineral water in the world -- water that is believed to have special healing powers. (Peñafiel is the biggest local beverage company. It´s owned by Cadbury-Schweppes, so our local mineral water is exported far and wide in Orange Crush and more than a dozen other popular beverages.) But no amount of magical Orange Crush is going to help me reverse the effects of this greasy diet. The only things I can do are to be strategically absent during meal times and make my commute to work a brisk 25 minute walk, two or three times a day.

La Llegada

TEHUACAN, Puebla, Mex. -- I arrived on Friday, August 17 in the evening after an uneventful 12 hour journey. My flight, which went through Houston, was smooth and easy. I then took two buses from Mexico City, one which took me halfway, to the city of Puebla, and another which took me the next two hours to Tehuacan. I met my host family that night -- all six of them! There are the parents and then 4 kids: Estafano, 19; Cosi, 18; Amarilis, 16; and Monse, 12. They are building a house that is almost done that we should be moving into in the next couple weeks. But until then, I am living in a tiny apartment with all the women. I share a room with two of my sisters, who sleep in bunk beds next to my twin bed. My mom and my other sister sleep in an adjacent room. Estefano and his father live in another house a few blocks away. The one they are in is very nice, but ours is really dirty and falling apart. There are bugs everywhere and the one toilet doesnt even have a seat on it! I am quite capable of roughing it, but I am really glad that we will move soon.

The new house is HUGE and GORGEOUS. There are 4 and a half baths and four bedrooms. I am will have my onw mini-apartment there, with a bedroom and full bath all to myself. There is also a huge kitchen in the new house, two terracces, two living rooms, and lots of natural light. It is very cool and there are no bugs, which is great because I have about 20 bugbites right now. (There is no danger of malaria, stop worrying mom :-) ). The new house is also closer to the school and across the street from the park, so it is all around a better place. I am antsy to move!

In other news, classes started yesterday and my students are great. I am teaching high intermediate and advanced older teens and adults. My youngest student is 16 and the oldest is in her early 40s. We have talked about many things already, but mostly the students like to talk about love and family. Those two topics involve quite a lot of vocabulary, so I am happy to entertain their interests.

We have two four day weekends in November, so that month will fly by. Until then, I am sure the weeks will be long, but I will travel on some weekends and go out to bars and clubs on others. Estafano is away at college from Sunday night to Friday afternoon, but when he comes home for the weekends he is a great host. This past weekend we went out dancing with some of my friends and some of his until 3am. I am really glad to have such a fine family!

I will be writing more soon -- something less biographical and more reflective, but please bear with me because the internet is unreliable and its so nice outside, I hate to spend my hours hanging out in Internet cafes.

What's Your Secret

The frailty of the human soul fascinates me.




http://www.postsecret.com

Cooperstown Pictures

Billy and the Pirates on-deck circle.

Sweet World Series programs.

More programs.

Old poster.

Another old poster.

The massive crowd.

Picture in picture -- Cal and his plaque.

The sweet theater in the HOF museum.

More from the theater.



Best. Baseball card. Ever.