Impassioned Serenity: Mexico v. 2.0

WARNING: The first three paragraphs of this post are a bitter tirade. If you do not care to read about the writer's loathing for passport-carrying bros and their hos, please advance to the fourth paragraph. Thank you.

When I was in college, I never took vacation during Spring Break. No Cancun, no Tampa, not even a trip to New York for the Big East tournament (although this would have been a great year to go -- P I T T Let's Go Pitt!). But this past week, I found myself picking my way through the Atlanta airport among throngs of flip-flop wearing, beach towel toting college kids, all on their way to the warm sun of the Caribbean/Latin America. It wasn't until I started praying that I'd be seated as far away as possible from these rowdy packs that I realized that what I scheduled as a week-long visit with a friend in Puebla, Mexico coincided with the unholy institution to which hordes of pale kids in Greek-letter t-shirts loudly declared their loyalty at least a dozen times a day -- "Spring Break '08!"

Air travel isn't something I generally enjoy. It involves long lines, hours of seated boredom, and lots of fossil fuel. But generally, the benefits outweigh the annoyances -- it's fast, it's uncomplicated, and it's fairly affordable if you do your booking right. I recommend it to strangers who say they have never left the country. I tell them to buy the cheapest ticket they can find and purchase the Lonely Planet guide for their destination; trips are easy to plan. But I would never, ever recommend that anyone try a taste of travel during the chaos and obscenity that is Spring Break. Just thinking about it makes me feel like I need to take a shower -- hot water beating into my scalp and loud, shower door-enhanced singing are the only things that can block out the memories of the insanity.

I am all for rowdiness and fun. Give me some beers and tickets to the game, and I'm set for hours of cheers and jeers. Switch out the tickets for a handful of good friends and a stack of red Solo cups, and things will only get better. But maneuvering myself through pockets of (soon to be) hungover students after navigating check-in lines, immigration, and customs, well that's just the straw that breaks the traveler's back.

Between ugly experiences at the airport, I enjoyed a week of sunshine and tortillas in Puebla, Mexico. It was nothing more than a week of art museums, afternoon walks, and hot drinks in the evening, but it was an ideal escape from suburban Maryland. In Puebla (city), I saw an exhibit of Julio Galan. Critics say his work is Kahlo-esque, and I think they're right. But whereas the meaning of Kahlo's work is sometimes so obvious it violently hits the viewer like an anvil to the cranium, Galan's paintings force viewers to create their own interpretations. His work is interactive: his paintings are a question and he left few clues as to his original intentions before his untimely death in 2006. The discovery of Galan was uplifting for me. It gives me someone new about whom to wonder, read, and talk. I want to see more of his works, so the discovery gives me a new treasure to hunt, too.

Back in Cholula, where I was staying, I experienced another highlight of my trip: Container City. I was walking through the town with my friend Erick one evening when I saw a sign for Container City (red with white letters), posted on a high pole a couple blocks ahead. As we neared the sight, I saw a number of large containers, much like the kind people use to store their belongings on their driveways during home renovations or as they prepare for a move. "Oh, self-storage," I thought to myself. For some reason, it struck me as strange that a self-storage facility would be necessary in a town like Cholula. People didn't seem to have all that much "stuff." But then I remembered that it's a college town, and I concluded that self-storage, although costly, is a logical solution for many nomadic college students.

Well, all my thinking was for naught. Container City is not a self-storage company. It's a city within a city.

A students at UDLA, the largest university in Cholula, came up with the idea fairly recently. The containers, which were indeed initially designed for self-storage, are modified slightly. Each of them has at least one wall of glass, usually sliding doors. These window/walls face the interior of the "city," which is why I didn't see them from the street. Companies of various kinds rent the units as store fronts. There is a fashion boutique, a salon, and even a tea house. Originally, the brains behind this project had intended to rent some of the units as small apartments, but this idea wasn't too popular. Although the units are large enough to house a bar and three tables or four clothing racks, they'd be quite cramped as living space. And in a town where rental properties abound, they just didn't appeal as homes. But they definitely appeal as commercial space (at least to me).

I don't know how many units comprise the entire city, but a good estimate would be something like 20. I visited only a handful, and by far my favorite was the Mandala tea house. Mandala was set near the city's entrance, but far enough from the street that it gave me the feeling that I'd discovered something secret when I stepped in. From it's entrance, you face a wall of glass jars, each filled with tea bags of the exotic nature from all over the world. As you approach the bar, the tea maiden (that's not really her title, but I like how it sounds), takes two or three jars from the wall and brings them to you for a sniff. These are her recommendations (which she makes based solely on your appearance). They're always dead-on. The first time I entered Mandala, I was offered an Indian black tea and a South African vanilla. The first was meant to be served in water, the latter in milk. I wasn't in a milky tea mood, so I opted for the Indian black. While waiting for the tea maiden to prepare my drink (which she did with the utmost care and the use of at least three different technologically-advanced tea machines), I took a seat at one of the small, low tables. Across from me, a large East Asia-inspired mural charmed my eyes with its swirls of cool colors and serene faces. My gaze shifted to the table beside me, and I spotted a book, "20,000 Secrets of Tea" by Victoria Zak. I began to leaf through it and soon found myself completely engrossed. There were profiles of hundreds of herbs, charts listing which can be used as treatments for which ailments, and pages of herb history. I've never been a tea aficionado, but this book called out to me like Straight Jacket to Shaun Brumder. I found a new passion.

I went back to Mandala two more times that week. Container City was so comfortable -- intimate, young, efficient. The setting was as inspiring as the tea itself. Using containers as storefronts was cheaper than construction, used fewer materials, was gentler on the environment, and gave each business an automatic audience of interested potential customers. I was surprised that I had never before heard of such an arrangement but certain that it must be in used elsewhere.

Check out this site and containercity.com for more information about these pre-fab wonders. I'm off to relax with a cup of oolong tea before the next round of the NCAA men's tournament.

The Last Day

Managua, NICARAGUA -- It's my last day in Nicaragua, my last day of traveling for a while. I arrived in Managua around 9:00 this morning, which was surprising because I didn't leave Granada until almost 7:30, but the bus was efficient, although packed. I quickly found a room in a part of the city that Lonely Planet describes as "quiet and leafy." Well, it's not only that, but also close to a mall, lots of restaurants, and 50-cent per hour internet. My room is a double with a private bathroom, and it costs $15 for the night. The owners are super helpful, and I'm loving it. The Lonely Planet guide lists the hotel as "Nicaragua Guesthouse," but it's actually called "Backpacker for Backpackers." I know that doesn't make any sense, but neither does "Mochilera de Mochilera," the Spanish name that is also written on the front sign. No matter, the place is a mini-paradise.

This area of Managua reminds me a lot of Zapote (the area where I lived in Costa Rica). It's middle class and everything is colorful. It's actually almost suburban. The streets are a lot better here than they were in CR, though. Pretty much everywhere has better streets than CR... I bought fresh baked bread (2 loaves for a dollar) at a nearby bakery, and purused shoestores in search of new footwear. I wore through two different pairs of sneakers on this trip. Since today's search was unsuccessful, I am heading back to Maryland (where supposedly there is snow on the ground), with a pair of torn up mesh-sided sneakers and black flip-flops that are beginning to curl at the heel. Ah well, as I return to the land of climate-controlled buildings and cars, I have a feeling my footwear won't matter nearly as much to me as it has for the past 5 months.

Anyway, I am totally tuckered out, even though I haven't done a whole lot today. Basically, I am ready for home. This trip has been such an adventure. Although the last leg was a bit of a disappointment, I still feel great about the whole thing. I loved Granada, and I made a few really good friends in La Prusia. I hope we all keep in touch, and I think we actually will thanks to these good ol' internets. Leaving La Prusia was harder than I expected. As I walked down the dirt lane for the last time, I kept passing people I realized I was going to miss. There were lots of hugs and kisses and well wishes. It's amazing how quickly that community opened its arms to me.

I have to admit I am already researching discount airfare from Baltimore to Mexico City. I hope to go back for a visit around Easter. Another teacher from Instituto Heslington wrote to me about his own rough transition away from Mexico. "I think you're suffering from Mexico withdrawal . We had it good there. Didn't we?" We sure did. It's hard to be so spoiled and not realize it. I wish I hadn't taken so much for granted in Mexico. The food, the weather, and most of all the company. I'm happy to say I think I fully appreciate it all now, and when I go back I am going to soak up every drop of wonderfulness.

Signing off from Latin America...

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.

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.

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.

Fotos (episodio 2)

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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)

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.

She just keeps going, and going, and going...

It has begun. And by "it," I mean the process of cramming 3 months of summer activities into one hyperactive month of fun.

This past Wednesday night, I said goodbye to Pittsburgh in style -- my style. I spent the evening parked on a bar stool, sipping on a steady stream of delicious brews from all around the world. Surrounded by about 20 friends, it was the only way I could have imagined a farewell for me to be. No pressure. No raucousness. Just beer and laughs.

On Thursday, I packed my car and drove to MD, arriving in time to grab an ice cream with my dad at sundown, but then my body gave up and I fell asleep. On Friday, four of my friends and I packed into my little, exhausted car and drove to Baltimore for the Os game (which they actually won!) After oohing and aahing at the post-game fireworks, we headed to Fell's Point and bar hopped until 2am. We slept at my house in Columbia, and then did it all again on Saturday: Baltimore, record stores, tasty lunch, ska show, good times.

It was the perfect way to kick off what is sure to be a crazy month of summer. This week is pretty calm, but on July 22 I'll be making a one-day trip to Wilmington for a BBQ and Counting Crows concert. Then it's off to Cooperstown the following weekend for Cal Ripken, Jr.'s induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame, plus camping and brewery tours with friends. Right after I get back from that epic road trip, I'm headed to the beach first with friends, then with family. And less than a week after I get back from the beach, it's off to Mexico!

I cannot get a handle on the amount of stuff I am about to do in such a short amount of time. Looking back, I see how I was really in a rut (maybe I should just called it a routine) that had kept me from living it up in Pittsburgh. No offense to the town or the people there, it's that whole "comfort thing"; I didn't have a fear about missing out or wasting time because when I was there I felt like I had all the time in the world. Now that I am in transition and I know I only have a limited amount of time to hang with friends and family, I'm packing it all in.

At the heart of things, that's what I really love about traveling. When I'm on the road, I go-go-go to pack in as much as I can because I know the adventure will end. That's why just living in another country would never satisfy my wanderlust. That's why as soon as I arrive somewhere, I figure out when I will be leaving -- the fear of running out of time gives me the energy to pack in as much as possible.

I am not a calm person. I never will be. But I'm sure as heck glad that I can look back and say, "Yup, I did that!"