Feliz Navidad

Hello, happy December, and Merry Christmas! I've certainly fallen behind on my blog posts, and I apologize for that. The first few weeks of December were busy, yet not particularly eventful, so it didn't seem incredibly pressing to post an update (as in, today in kindergarten we talked about the number 8). However, with almost a month gone by since I last wrote, I thought you might like to know what I've been up to. So, in no particular order:

• Celebrated a very nice Thanksgiving, YAGM style. After I was glooming and dooming about not being able to spend Thanksgiving with my family, our whole volunteer group got together at our country coordinator's house for a good, old fashioned Thanksgiving meal. I made cranberries; it was the first time I've contributed something to the holiday besides my appetite. It was wonderful to enjoy delicious food, each other's company, and talk about some of our favorite Thanksgiving memories.

• Began celebrating Christmas, Mexican style. I was worried that I wouldn't have much of a Christmas this year, but the truth is, Christmas is everywhere! Stores, restaurants, and homes alike are all decked out in lights and decorations. Even my host family, who is usually pretty bare bones when it comes to decorations, really got into the decorating. We have a nice little Christmas tree, a Nativity scene, lights, and Angeles even decorated the gas can like a reindeer. They also celebrated the Day of the Virgin; the Virgin of Guadalupe is a very important religious and cultural figure here in Mexico. Her image is everywhere, and her name is often invoked to help, guide, and protect the people of Mexico. Thus, she gets her own day in December, where there were masses especially for her, parades, songs, and the like. Our volunteer group also celebrated together this past weekend; we baked Christmas cookies, had a white elephant gift exchange, and watched "A Christmas Story" and a "Charlie Brown Christmas" (classics, for sure).

• Went to the ballet for the first time! The Moscow State Ballet company is touring and performing "The Nutcracker," and they came to Cuernavaca. The movie always scared me a little, but the ballet was wonderful. I love the music; I listen to the soundtrack every year while baking Christmas cookies with my mom, so it was a special treat to be able to see the actual show.

• Witnessed Mexico on Ice, i.e. Cuernavaca setting up an outdoor ice-skating rink in the middle of the zocalo (the downtown plaza). It's an idea copied from Mexico City, which apparently did the same thing last year. Keep in mind that, even though it's December, daytime temperatures in Cuernavaca can easily reach into the 70 or even 80 degree range. The zocalo is not particularly shady. It's a remarkable feat to actually have a cooling system strong enough to keep a sizable ice rink going in such a climate, as well as a pretty remarkable waste of government money. Still, people seems to enjoy it, and it's pretty funny to watch people try to skate, or rather pull themselves along the outside railings to keep themselves from falling (not being a good skater, I strongly identify).

• Put on a Christmas pageant at the kindergarten. Each year, much like in the US, the kindergarten does a Nativity play for the parents, along with some song and dance numbers from each individual class. They decided that it would be a very good idea for the kids to sing a song for their parents in English! So, in less than two weeks, I had to teach the classes a song to perform as the last number in the pageant. I chose "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," though I didn't even attempt to teach them anything beyond the refrain (we just swayed back and forth during the verses). It actually turned out very well; the kids really enjoy singing, and they picked it up a lot faster than I thought they would. The whole pageant in itself was very cute; kind of chaotic, but cute, the nativity play in particular. There was a Mary, Joseph, three wise men, angels, kids dressed as sheep (especially cute) and even a group of boys dressed as devils (I don't exactly know why they included devils in the birth of the baby Jesus, but it was funny, and not totally inappropriate costumes for the boys).

• Saw some pretty grim drug violence go down in our beautiful Cuernavaca. I'm sure almost everyone reading this had heard some reference to the incident on the news, since it broke on all the major US news networks. But if you haven't, here's a brief synopsis: one of the most powerful and malicious drug cartel leaders in Mexico, Beltran Leyva, was killed in a luxury apartment complex during a shootout between his cartel and the Mexican Navy. Apparently the state police and army are so corrupt that they had to call in the more qualified Navy to take care of a drug conflict. During the middle of the afternoon a week ago, helicopters, tanks, and ground forces moved in on the apartment building and began firing on Leyva and his men. Several narco-traffickers were killed, including Leyva, and one sailor was killed as well. It was an ugly scene, but solely between the military and the drug cartels, not civilians. Cuernavaca is not a drug contested city, and who knows why the cartel was here in the first place. Unfortunately, the war on drugs that incredibly incompetent President Felipe Calderon has been waging is tearing Mexico apart. He and news sources claim Leyva's assassination as a victory, but who knows how the drug cartels will respond to their power being challenged. Again, violence is not directed at civilians; I'm in no real danger, and the YAGM program keeps us well protected. But it still hits too close to home.

• On a much lighter note, I went on vacation! My friend and fellow volunteer Sara has family friends that live in Toluca, another mid-sized city a couple hours from Cuernavaca. They invited us to spend the Christmas holidays with them, and they're taking us around to some tourist sites as well. Today they took us to the Monarch Butterfly Reserve in Michoacan, a neighboring state. Millions of butterflies migrate annually from Canada and the Great Lakes region to this part of Mexico. They rest here for the winter, mate in the spring, and then migrate back in warmer weather. Simply put, it was magical; the air was filled with butterflies, and some of the trees were so thick with them they looked like they had orange leaves. They landed on our clothes, our shoes, our hair; it was really special. Pictures to come soon. The family we're staying with is so wonderful, and I'm so grateful for their hospitality. We'll spend the next couple days with them, and then over the weekend head off on another mini-vacation to the beach! How I look forward to relaxing on the sand.

I think that's all in a nutshell. I'm sorry I let so much time elapse between updates, so I can't get much past a simple synopsis of my activities. I'll try to do better (New Year's resolution!) I hope you all have a wonderfully Merry Christmas; know that I'm thinking of and missing all my family and friends, and that your support and kind words are so appreciated. It means a lot to know that people take an interest in what I'm doing here and take the time to follow my blog. Here's hoping and praying for a peaceful Christmas season, in Mexico, the US, and all the world. Feliz Navidad!

Missing Home

Day 93 in Mexico

Thanksgiving: It’s a hard time for me to be away from home, especially since it’s one of my favorite holidays. Great food, a short week of classes, time to relax and spend time with family, the day when I start listening to Christmas music (I refuse to do Christmas stuff before Thanksgiving). This year, it was just another work day. Unfortunately, the week was made even more difficult by my first bout of real stomach sickness since being in Mexico. Being sick is never fun, but it’s worse when you’re not at home. It’s unfortunate that these events had to come on the same week, but perhaps it’s better to get it all over and done with and then move on.

Last week, however, was a very good week; we had our first YAGM retreat. We have periodic retreats throughout our year of service, times where we gather together for a few days and discuss some of the bigger social, political and economic issues that impact Mexico and its people, many of them relevant to our worksites. This retreat was focused on globalization and food supply. It was good to be able to take a step back from work and talk about some “big picture issues,” because I often find myself getting tunnel vision when it comes to my work here. I worry so much about the day to day stuff, which mother is going to take me to eat with her, what lessons I’m going to teach the kindergartners, how I can be useful in the community center, that I forget the reasons why I’m here. The issues that we discussed – globalization, free trade agreements, and agricultural monopolies – are ones that directly impact the women with whom I work. Many of them come to Cuernavaca from rural areas, where they couldn’t make a living anymore working in the fields, and many of them have husbands that went to the United States looking for work. It’s frustrating, and even enraging, to talk about things like food supply and free trade agreements, which often undercut small farmers in favor of giant corporations. I admit, I’m not a very conscious shopper. I don’t think much about where my food comes from; I go to the grocery store and buy brand name products. I like farmers markets, but I usually don’t give that much consideration to buying locally. As much as the documentaries that we watched made me feel helpless about the state of the world and the imbalance of power, they at least made me aware of my own habits and knowledge, and that I need to be much more intentional about my consumption.

At the same time that we were dealing with some pretty heavy issues, we also had to time to relax and just be with each other. None of us have tons of free time, so it was nice to just sit, take a breath, talk and laugh together, have time to take a nap or a walk, do some sightseeing, and enjoy each other’s company. We visited the Robert Brady museum, the once-home, now-museum of a wealthy artist living in Cuernavaca who dedicated his life to traveling the world and collecting all sorts of art and treasures, and some waterfalls, Saltos de San Anton, that are in walking distance of the downtown. As part of our retreat, we also took a field trip to an organic, sustainable farm south of Cuernavaca owned by an American expatriate. She took us on a tour and explained some of her “permaculture” (sustainable agriculture) techniques. It was amazing how simple and sustainable her farm is; no huge combines or crop dusters for her. Here´s a picture of some of the sheep grazing and the beautiful wildflowers that grew everywhere on her farm. Afterwards, we got some more play time, with a trip to the balnearios (pools) in Tehuixtlza, where we got to swim and relax in the afternoon sun. It was a very fast four days, both thought-provoking and refreshing. At the same time, however, it also made me a little homesick when I returned back to my normal routine. Being with my fellow volunteers is easy and fun; we get along well, joke and laugh, and our relationships are not a struggle. As much as the relationships that I’m forming both at home and my work are becoming very meaningful for me, they’re not always easy. There’s a language barrier, many cultural differences, and I often feel like I can’t express myself how I’d like to, sometimes because I simply don’t know the right words in Spanish. Some of the women in La Estación are very close to my age, but we are worlds apart in terms of lifestyle. By the time they’re my age, they’re married with children and spend their days doing housework and taking care of their kids. I love to listen to their stories, but I can’t always relate. I feel so far from home when I’m there that this past week of familiarity was hard to leave. In the face of these emotional difficulties, missing home and my family, this Thanksgiving week has to take on a different meaning for me. Instead of being a time to spend with my family, it is a time to give thanks for my new Mexican family and community. As hard is it is not to be at home, I’m so grateful to Angeles and Fernando, who have taken me into their home, and to the women at La Estación who invite me into their homes every week. It is a blessing that I am able to be here, that I’ve been accepted into a family and a community, even as an outsider who doesn’t always speak the same language. I’m going to borrow some words here from the book Gracias! by Henri Nouwen:

“What is most important is to be grateful today and to give thanks… [Gratitude] reaches out far beyond our own self to God, to all of creation, to the people who gave us life, love, and care. It is an emotion in which we experience our dependencies as a gift and realize that in the celebrations of our dependencies we become most aware of who we truly are: a small but precious part of creation and above all of the human family” (p. 55)

I think that says it perfectly. I give thanks for my home in the States, my new home in Mexico, my family, my friends, good health, well behaved kindergartners, good Cuernavaca weather, and especially for all of you who are reading this, for your love, support and kind words. Happy Thanksgiving!

To Guerrero We Go

Day 79 in Mexico

This week, I´d like to share about last weekend´s adventure, which was very interesting but for much different reasons that the Day of the Dead extravaganza the weekend before. We actually got to take a much anticipated day trip to visit the worksite of the two volunteers, Katie and Sarah, that work outside of Cuernavaca in a puebla in Guerrero. If you remember, when our volunteer group arrived here we spent a week in orientation and visited everyone’s worksites except that of these girls working in Guerrero. They spend three days in Cuernavaca, working at the office that directs development programs in the village, and four days a week they spend in the village itself. Because it’s a pretty long hike to get there (two hours up some pretty windy mountain roads), there wasn’t time to go during orientation, so we planned our visit for this past Saturday. I was excited, but I had no idea what to expect. The very words puebla or village are pretty ambiguous; the first thing that comes to my mind (unfortunately) are images like dirt huts, but the girls told us stories about the Coke and beer trucks that race through town everyday, which didn’t seem to be congruous at all with what I was picturing. So I was very eager to see it for myself.

Before we actually went, we attended a presentation at the organization’s main office in Cuernavaca to discuss the issues that face this village, some of the harsh realities of life for the people there, and a few of the development strategies that are at work (when I say “development,” I don’t necessarily mean modernization, or making sure they have grocery stores and access to American products. I mean better health care, working with women to improve self esteem and confidence, improving and expanding education, etc.). Even after having some idea about what these people face after hearing stories from the girls, it was still daunting and, honestly, depressing to hear about all the problems this village faces. It’s an extremely poor and marginalized community, where everyone makes their living by producing woven palm baskets. Some people go to the forest to cut palm, some dye it and sell it, some sell the actual baskets, but everyone’s livelihood in some way depends on palm. I asked where and who they sell their crafts to, since if everyone’s making the same thing they’re obviously not buying each other’s stuff. Apparently there are people (not tourists; it’s too far off the beaten path to be a tourist attraction) that come and buy their wares for dirt cheap, and them sell them at much higher prices in markets in bigger cities (that tourists do visit), thus turning a profit for themselves but cheating the actual artists. Many of the people live in houses made out of corn husks tied together, and cook over three stone fires (actual kitchens and stoves are few and far between). More than just poverty, though, there are significant health issues in the village. Perhaps the most obvious is a significant water shortage; water is very hard to come by in the village, and the water that is there is contaminated with lead and arsenic. They live on less water per day (every day) than people in severe disaster zones. There are a few wells in the village, but because of the contamination it’s not drinkable. Any drinking water has to be bought, and if they can’t afford it, then they drink the contaminated stuff and take their chances. There are pockets of dangerous metals in the soil too, and many have only dirt floors, so they’re living right on top of it. There are issues with malnutrition, birth defects because of the toxic metals in the water and land, worms and other parasites. There’s rampant alcoholism amongst the men, as well as male migration to bigger cities and to the U.S. and very strong machismo attitudes towards women. Most people are not educated, many of the older women can’t read, lack of knowledge about birth control or family planning… the list goes on and on. And this was all before the actual visit! I know this sounds trite, especially because we´re all working in poorer or marginalized communities here, but it’s hard to think that things we take for granted everyday, the fact that we can drink the water that comes from the tap, that we have a stove, that we live in towns with drainage and sewer systems, are not givens for everyone.

So, last Saturday, after a couple hour drive, we finally arrived to see it for ourselves. I’ll admit that my first thought when we pulled into town was that it looked better than I expected; at first glance the buildings and roads didn’t seem that much different than those in Cuernavaca (we were told, however, that you need to venture off the main road through town to see how most of the people really live). We visited the community center where the volunteers both work and sleep; there are classrooms, a sewing room, medical exam rooms, lots of people coming in and out and not a lot of extra space! There was a lunch set up when we got there, and maybe about forty or so young women from the community milling around (as I understood it, they are supporters/participants/educators/promoters of the program in the village). They gave us a warm welcome, especially to Peter, another YAGM volunteer – there were several questions directed at him regarding his age and if he had a girlfriend; I enjoyed it very much. I kind of felt like I was back in high school, surrounded by teenage girls laughing, whispering to each other, shyly and a little hesitantly participating when called upon. I guess I’ve gotten used to being the only young adult in a classroom full of five year olds. Very different work environments, that’s for sure. After our initial welcome, we were sent off on a several hour tour of the town with two young girls as our tour guides. They too were shy, and whispered to each other as we walked. They took us on a tour of the wells where people gather water, of the three churches in the town (which is divided into three barrios, or neighborhoods, each with its own church) and then up to the top of the mountain to the best, most reliable well in town (this town, by the by, is literally on the side of the mountain, and thus most of the roads are quite steep). It was quite a hike to get to the top, climbing over rocks, and one of our guides had an empty 18 liter water jug strapped to her back. When we got to the top, we filled the jug from the well and then each took turns carrying it. It was heavy. The women carry water on their backs with a strap going across their forehead, and the girls start doing this at five years old. What’s more, they climb this mountain to get water three times per day! I couldn’t believe what an arduous process it was to simply get water; I couldn’t handle carrying the jug for more than a few minutes. After this, we made a visit to a woman’s home, where she was cooking in her “kitchen,” a corn husk structure with an oil drum lid perched over a campfire. We not only got to talk with her, but try our hand at what she does every day – weaving and making tortillas. It was an interesting role reversal; I think the tendency is usually for the person with more education, more expertise on health or nutrition or whatever to give the instruction. Eat this, don’t drink this, do this when you’re sick, don’t do this when you’re pregnant, etc. I’m sure this woman has gotten a lot of that, but on this visit, she was the expert. My tortillas were lumpy and weird-looking, and I ended up breaking or burning more than a couple. Her tortillas were perfect, and delicious (mine still tasted okay, they just weren’t very pretty). Then we each got to make a small basket, and while she was demonstrating how to weave, her hands moved so fast my eyes couldn’t keep up. She ended up making most of my basket for me, because I was just too slow, and she said that she can make up to thirty of these in a day (here´s her/my finished product). As beautiful as her craft is, however, it sells for very little money, barely enough to scrape by. Meanwhile she told us about her life and her children; she was very friendly and open, and reminded me a lot of the women I work with in La Estación. It still really impresses me that, even with all the work they have to do on a daily basis, these women still take the time to open their homes to us, put up with our bad Spanish, field our questions, and share a glimpse into their lives. I think it’s an incredible display of hospitality. After an hour or so placticando (chatting), we headed back to the community center, rested for a bit, had a bite to eat, and then headed back to Cuernavaca as the sun started to go down.

It wasn’t the longest visit, and I wish I could have gotten to spend more time observing my fellow volunteers in action (Katie was leading a second tour group, and Sarah was teaching a class all afternoon, as she works with education in the village). But I’m very glad I got to see the town, and after seeing it I’m thoroughly impressed not only with Katie and Sarah for the hard work that they do, but also with the women and how they make their lives in this place. When I was carrying the water jug, a woman in my tour group (who declined to participate in the activity) commented on how gutsy and strong I was for carrying it. I replied that I was in no way either, but the women that do this all their lives, day in and day out, certainly are.

¡Feliz dia de los Muertos!

Day 71 in Mexico

Hello and happy November! It seems like just last week that I was saying happy October, and we’re already in a new month. It’s been a little while since I last wrote, and between then and now I got to experience one of the Mexican holidays I was most excited about – Day of the Dead! I didn’t know exactly what to expect. I did know that it’s a deeply traditional event, much more religious than Halloween, where people construct altars and make offerings to their family members who have passed away. They typically lay out food, drink, flowers (marigolds and beautiful fuchsia flowers), candles, candy skulls, and other favorite items of the deceased, both in their homes and in the cemeteries. It’s a time where the living commune with the dead, a day dedicated more to celebrating their life than mourning their passing, and, I think, one of the most uniquely Mexican holidays. I’ve been learning about it ever since high school, so I was very excited to finally get to see it in person.

I was not let down; it was a very interesting weekend indeed. I say weekend, because Day of the Dead did not last one day, but really ran from Friday until Monday. I knew that November 1st is actually Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead or All Saints Day) and November 2nd is All Souls Day, but evidently Day of the Dead here has become a mash-up of the traditional Mexican holiday and American Halloween. There were Halloween masks and costumes for sale everywhere, pumpkin and witch decorations alongside the skull candies, and kids dressing up in their Halloween finery on Friday at school. Children here do wear costumes and ask for candy on Halloween, but there’s no one trick or treating time. For four nights straight there were kids running around the city, asking neighbors and even people in their cars for treats (although here, they have a little song instead of saying “trick or treat,” and people give out sweets, bread, money or fruit – no concerns about unwrapped candy). At the same time, families were setting up their altars. I kicked off my Day of the Dead experience by visiting the large altars in the central plaza in Cuernavaca on Saturday, which are put on display for the public. I took A LOT of photos; here's an example.

I too had a mixed holiday; I followed visiting the ofrendas (offerings) by watching Hocus Pocus and hiding from the trick or treaters with my friend Sara. On Sunday, I visited one of Cuernavaca’s most popular tourist sites, the Jardin Borda, which is a beautiful museum with expansive gardens; however, they transformed it into an artisan’s market and Day of the Dead art show. Skulls and skeletons are very common decorations for the holiday, and in Jardin Borda they set up a show of Catrinas, or dressed up skeletons. They’re a unique combination of art, beauty, and the macabre, and some of them were so beautiful and intricate it was amazing. Again, I took lots of photos, and I couldn’t help but buy myself a miniature Catrina; she’s so pretty, with a blue ballgown and her big skeleton grin.

Then, after a break to watch the Packers/Vikings game (boo Vikings), some of the other volunteers and I headed off to a very unique Day of the Dead celebration just outside Cuernavaca in a town called Ocotepec. There, any household who has had a family member die in the past year opens their home to the public. You can pass through their homes and visit their ofrendas, which were massive beyond words. Every group visiting brings a candle or flowers to give to the family, and in return they give everyone passing through something to eat – tamales, pan de muerto (Day of the Dead sweet bread), atole (a cider like drink that can be fruity, spicy, or chocolatey), or punch. This event lasted all afternoon and all night long, and these families had literally hundreds of people passing through their homes. At times the lines to visit a home’s altar were a block long, and yet they always had something to give everyone that passed through, even if it was just bread and coffee. It was such an interesting experience to be invited into strangers’ homes, to be given something to eat, to give a gift in return to someone you’ve never met, to be invited to share in the celebration and remembrance of their deceased family members. In just passing through, we got to learn about the person through their altar – they had all the foods they liked, cigarettes if they smoked, their pictures, their shoes… one even had his teaching memorabilia. All the front doors had decorated signs saying, “Welcome, Mom,” or “Welcome home, Grandpa.”

It was a bittersweet display for sure, sad because the person was gone, but joyful because this one night was dedicated to communing with them as if they were still alive. The whole event was so much more involved than I expected; I can’t even imagine the amount of effort and time that must have gone into preparing the ofrendas and all the food. Even the churches in town had offerings in them; I think it was the only time I’ve ever seen skeletons hanging from a church door (the church usually isn’t so big on Halloween). It was a very cool night, to be sure, but it was more than cool; it felt sacred. It was about celebrating family, community, and the life beyond; to me, it seemed much more special than knocking on doors asking for candy or watching horror movies (though that's fun too). I’m glad that I got to be included. Monday is typically the day when families take their offerings to the actual cemetery, decorate the graves with flowers, and even share a meal or a drink at the gravesite. I thought my host family would be doing this, but we didn’t go. As Angeles explained it to me, the cemetery would be packed with people and because of the rain it would be muddy, so better we save a visit for another day. Still, I feel like I had a very complete Day of the Dead experience. Who knows, maybe next year I’ll be making my own mini altar next to the bowl of Halloween candy! ¡Hasta luego!

The Many Faces of Angeles and Fernando

Day 60 in Mexico

I thought this might be a good time to talk a bit more about my host family. Who are Angeles and Fernando? After all, these people have invited me into their family and home for a year, it would seem fair that I should get to know a little bit about them. And so I have, mainly through our after dinner conversations, which can easily stretch an hour or more. There’s no two ways about it – they are a couple of characters, and their lives have been far crazier than I could have ever imagined when I originally got a description of them, or even when I first met them. I’ve already said a little bit about them, and for those of you who don’t remember, here’s a refresher – Fernando is a taxi driver. Angeles takes care of the house. They have three grown children, all of whom live in the same neighborhood and have families of their own. They have their family over for a late breakfast on Saturdays. They are very involved in their church, and often have meetings in the evenings regarding church events. However, this isn’t the half of it. When I mentioned that they’ve dedicated their lives to social justice, I didn’t realize exactly how literal that statement was. Let’s start with Fernando…

Fernando – taxi driver, father, life risking social activist, Zapatista, lucha libre fighter. I don’t know exactly how we got started on the topic (I don’t know how we start talking about half of the stuff we talk about) but one night Fernando proceeds to tell me about the time he went to Nicaragua. During their civil war. Apparently, during the war between the Contras and the Sandanistas in Nicaragua, Fernando went with a group from Mexico to cut the coffee plants during their harvest season in Nicaragua. He didn’t exactly explain why he went to do this; I think it was a way in which to assist the poor people of Nicaragua, who during the time of violence didn’t have time to attend to their crops. This was no small trip; he told me that it was so dangerous to go there during the war, he went figuring he had a 50-50 chance of coming back. His daughter got married a couple days before he left, just in case. Their priest called Angeles the “almost-widow.” As he was describing his trip, he told me how he was always armed with a gun and grenades while he was there, how they heard gunfire all around them, how one time he got lost and separated from his group and was wandering around by himself, trying to find them. He stayed there for a month and a half, until the coffee harvest was done. Just as I was thinking that how crazy he was for risking his life like that, Fernando launches into his next social justice story. He went down to Chiapas in 1994, right after the appearance of the ELZN (Zapatista National Liberation Army). For those of who don’t know, the Zapatistas are a guerrilla army that primarily fight for social justice and land rights for the indigenous people of Chiapas (Chiapas is one of the states in Mexico with the greatest indigenous population). This army is often at odds with the Mexican government and army, which have never been known to cater to the poor, indigenous populations, and Chiapas has experienced some turbulent and violent times because of this. The Zapatista leader is Subcomandante Marcos, whom Fernando (surprise, surprise) has been in meetings with. He went to Chiapas to help support the ELZN movement, to bring the people living in the mountains there supplies, and aid Subcomandante Marcos and the army in their (he said he was usually appointed as one of the watchmen, to make sure no one attacked Marcos or his men). So, there you have it. My host dad is a Zapatista.

His story doesn’t end there. He was also a lucha libre fighter in his spare time! Lucha libre is Mexican wrestling, where men in masks and costumes with crazy names wrestle in arenas. It’s more show that actual wrestling however, much like the WWE. Apparently this is what Fernando did on weekends for 20+ years, and Angeles would take the kids down to the arena to watch him. I thought it was interesting that there was a significant amount of lucha libre apparel and memorabilia in our house (like his mask, shown here), but just thought they were fans of the sport. Never would I have guessed Fernando was actually the one doing the wrestling. As Angeles put it for me, “He fought inside the ring, and fought outside of it for justice.” Which brings me to Angeles…

Angeles – mother, devout Catholic, tireless and fearless fighter for social justice. Though she didn’t accompany Fernando on his trip to war torn Nicaragua, she did go with him to Chiapas to help bring aid to the people in the mountains. This little woman has stood face to face with Subcomandante Marcos (she was describing how he was actually a pretty attractive guy, even though he always wears a black mask covering half his face) and has trekked through the mountains of Chiapas, sleeping on the ground and giving her clothes away as she went to lighten her load. She also told me that during the civil war in El Salvador, she and Fernando helped El Salvadorians fleeing their country to come to Mexico. They helped arrange places to stay for these refugees, but had to speak in code over the phone, in case the phone lines were tapped. And of course, she and Fernando both have marched and protested in many different demonstrations here in Mexico. There was recently a protest about the power company here, Luz y Fuerza. Angeles told me that it was going to happen, but that she doesn’t participate as much as she used to now that she’s older. The next day, the protest was shown on the news, and Fernando turned to Angeles and said, “We really should have been there.” She just nodded in agreement. Apparently age hasn’t slowed them down much. It should also be mentioned that they decided to tell me all these stories on the same night, back to back. All I could say is, “You guys are crazy.”

So, there you have it. I feel like I’m living with living Mexican history; they haven’t let Latin America’s turbulent times pass them by quietly, they have been involved the whole way, fighting to make their country a better and more just place. For those of you who would like some more background information about the social movements I mentioned above, here are some helpful links (they’re Wikipedia, but they’ll do):

Nicaraguan civil war: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Contras

Zapatista movement: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zapatista_Army_of_National_Liberation

Lucha libre: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucha_libre

Why Are All My Birthdays in Latin America?

Day 50 in Mexico

Good news this week – the creepy crawly critters have not shown themselves in my room, the bathroom, or the stairs. Either the second fumigation really did do them in (I think the first fumigation attempt just riled them up), or they’re in hiding, regrouping and planning their counter attack. I’m really, really hoping it’s not the latter.

The time since I last wrote did indeed prove to be eventful, most notably with my birthday on Sunday. It’s never ideal to spend your birthday away from your friends and family, but my fellow volunteers came through in fine style for me. Like I mentioned, we had a mini celebration at our monthly meeting last weekend, but we got in a good deal of celebration this weekend as well. We all decided to meet in the downtown on Saturday night, after the Tlamacazapa girls got back into Cuernavaca. When I arrived there, I got out of my taxi to an absolute madhouse:

people everywhere, many in Mexico jerseys with painted faces, yelling and cheering, dancers, drummers, people waving Mexican flags, and a group of crazies running out in the street to jump en masse on the bumpers of passing cars and buses, jiggling them up and down. At first I was like, what Mexican holiday is it that I don’t know about it? Turns out it was even more important than a national holiday; Mexico’s football (read: soccer) team beat El Salvador, qualifying them for the World Cup. I don’t even know if I can describe how important or prevalent soccer is here; I guess there’s obsession, and then there’s Mexican soccer. Anyway, as I was busy snapping some photos of the revelry, Peter and Sara arrived, and we went out for a few birthday beers at a café while we waited for the other girls to join us. Not only did I get a free beer, I also got sung to by my fellow volunteers (Katie and Sarah too, once they arrived) and a surprise birthday treat (it was kind of like a fancy ho-ho) brought to me by the waiters; they even wrote “Happy B-day” on it in English. I was impressed.

Afterwards, we wandered down to La Plazuela, a popular bar lined street that features everything from small watering holes with live guitar music to full-on discotheques. We opted for a livelier spot with dancing. It was the first time we had been actually “out” in Cuernavaca, and we all had a lot of fun. Of course, when we left it was pouring rain and none of us had any sort of umbrella or jacket, but luckily we all got taxis quickly and headed home. On Sunday, my actual birthday, we met up again at the same retreat center we were at for orientation for relaxing and swimming. I also took advantage of the phone and Internet to make some birthday phone/Skype calls. The pool turned out to be a bit chilly; only Katie and I were brave enough to get in. Still, it was a very enjoyable afternoon, and I left feeling refreshed. Sara even brought me a scarf that she knit herself as a present; every time I see her she has a new craft that she learned at her work sites. It’s a legit scarf too (like you would actually pay money for it); once it actually gets chilly enough to wear scarves (if it ever does) it won’t leave my neck. My birthday present to myself (besides blowing almost a third of my month’s allowance in one night, haha) was having a Mass-free weekend. As much as I like that Angeles and Fernando include me, their weekends are so full of activities (almost always church activities) that I sometimes feel like I don’t get a weekend when I go along. It was very nice to have a couple days all to myself to do as I pleased. I may try to cut my Mass count down to one a week, try a different church once in awhile, and have an occasional church-free weekend.

Work has also been busy for the last few days. As I mentioned, I had a visitor from EdgewoodCollege come to watch me work in the kindergarten on Friday morning. She’s doing half a semester of student teaching here in Cuernavaca at an elementary school, and then returning toMadison to finish her student teaching there. I really enjoyed hearing about her experiences as a teacher here, and sharing some of my own. It was also very nice to have an extra pair of hands to help with the day’s project. She and another girl working in Cuernavaca participated in a mini-immersion program over the weekend, part of which was visiting the community in which I work. After I finished with work, my fellow volunteers and I met with the girls at the retreat center to talk about our experiences living here, working here, and being Americans in a foreign place. Again, it was nice to share and hear some of the experiences of other foreigners, where our experiences overlap and where they differ.

Then, just yesterday, we had perhaps one of the biggest events of the year at the community center in La Estación – a visit from their sponsors. As I may or may not have mentioned, children in the La Estación community project can be sponsored by families in the US and Canada, who send money for things like food, school supplies, and clothing. In return, the children’s mothers must participate in the center, the children must write letters and send pictures to their sponsors, and they also must attend the workshops that the community center provides. Five of the sponsors came to visit the center, as well as the staff of the organization that coordinates the sponsorship program, and everyone in the community went all out for it. The center was cleaned like I’ve never seen it cleaned and decorated with paper chains and flowers. The kids and I made cards for them in one of our workshops. Tons of kids packed into the center to welcome the guests, so many that there wasn’t space or chairs for all of them. There were readings, gifts (embroidered pillowcases that the women made), a traditional Mexican dance performance, two home visits… it was definitely the busiest and one of the most wonderful mornings I’ve had to date. It was wonderful to see both the outpouring of gratitude that this community has for those who help them ensure that their kids are properly prepared to receive the education they deserve, as well as the delight of the foreign sponsors at the warm welcome they received.

I did, however, have two regrets about the event, the first being that I forgot my camera! It would have been the perfect opportunity to take pictures. The second is that it didn’t last longer; the sponsors only stayed for about an hour and a half, which seemed very short. Even when they visited the homes of the mothers, they only stayed about twenty minutes. Logistically I understand why they couldn’t stay longer, but at the same time I wish they could have stayed a while, talking to the families and learning their stories. Their conversations couldn’t get much beyond asking how many children the women had, their ages, their names, how long they had lived in the community, etc. However, one of the women they visited, Lulu, was asked about what dreams she had for her five children, and she started to cry. She said, “I have such enormous dreams for my children. I want them all to become successful professionals, so that they don’t have to live like this, so that they can leave this life of poverty.” It was such a touching moment; more than anything, I wanted these strangers to be able to stay, to talk to her and her daughters, who, I have learned from them coming to workshops, are incredibly bright, talented, social, and driven, to show them really how much they deserve every opportunity in the world and how vital their sponsorship is in making sure these girls receive those opportunities. At the same time, all the sponsorship in the world doesn’t change the fact that these girls, because of where they live, because of their socioeconomic status and lack of resources, are going to be fighting an uphill battle the entire way. In that moment, the reason I am here became much clearer; I am here for them. I cannot provide monetary support, but I can give them knowledge and encouragement, learn their stories, and share their lives more than any immersion group or day visitor ever could. Unfortunately, that won’t put food on their table or books in their backpacks, but nonetheless I choose to believe that my presence here can make a difference in their lives and the lives of those in the community. Sorry if that sounds soap-boxy or sappy, but it’s moments like those that keep me going here – moments where I feel useful and part of a community. I almost started crying along with Lulu! But, luckily, I restrained myself.

That’s all for now; this week looks to be a quieter one, but here you just never know what will happen next.

The Good, the Bad, and the Creepy Crawly

Day 43 in Mexico

Happy October to all! September has come and gone, and now we’re into one of my favorite months – the month of Halloween, my birthday, and cooler temperatures in Tucson. However, this October will surely be different than those back home, for obvious reasons. As for my favorite highlights of the month, I do think they celebrate Halloween, though it’s not nearly as big a deal as Dia de los Muertos, which I am looking forward to. My birthday is only days away, and I’m not too freaked out about celebrating it away from home, since I turned 21 while studying abroad in Argentina; I’m more worried about being 23. I seem to be getting older very, very quickly. Everyone in my group is a good six months to a year and six months younger than me, so that doesn’t help much. And as for the weather, it seems to be getting warmer instead of cooler now that the rainy season is coming to a close. I guess I’ll have to modify my ideas about the month.

I’ve had some interesting moments in the past week, both good and not so good. Work has still proven to be challenging in several respects. As much as I do enjoy teaching my English classes in the kinder, the kids are often a handful, and it’s hard to garner a lot of authority with five year olds when I don’t speak the language as well as a five year old. I’m still searching for the balance between having good activities that get them actively learning and activities that are calm enough that I can keep some semblance of control. My last blog was about the lessons that I’ve learned, but I think I forgot the most important one: Kids are hard work. At the same time, I get frustrated with myself when I feel I haven’t progressed as much as I should have; that I don’t know the women of the center like I should, the kids don’t know their colors as well as they should, I don’t feel as useful as I should. I get hung up easily on how things “should” be, which is a complete figment of my imagination, rather than how they are. However, I had a breakthrough moment this past week (I love those). A group of study abroad students from NAU (fellow Arizonans!) has started to come on Wednesday afternoons to give an English class in the community center. This last Wednesday was their first session, and it falls under my job to the facilitator for their sessions, observing, making sure they have all the materials they need, etc. When I welcomed them to the center, after introducing myself, I gave them a brief introduction to the community center. I shared about the center itself, who sponsors the project, a little about the community that it serves how the kids and their families come to be involved, and so on. When the kids came to the class, I knew their names from the kinder, I knew the moms that dropped them off, I knew how much English they could be expected to know, I knew which colors they would be able to correctly identify… I realized that I know a lot more about my job than I think I know. It took another group of outsiders to make me realize that I’m not as much of an outsider as I used to be. Slowly but surely (or, poco a poco, a phrase I use a lot here) I am becoming part of a community, and that realization was one of the most reassuring moments that I’ve had to date.

My time with my host family is still proving to be very enjoyable; however, I seem to be attracting the attention of some less favorable residents of the house: the bug population. After my first encounter with the whopper of a spider in my bathroom, word must have spread amongst them that I’m afraid, and they’ve decided to join together and take advantage of that fact. I’ve seen a couple in the past weeks on the stairs; I’m the only one who lives upstairs, so they must get a kick out of me being too scared to pass by them to get to my room. However, they’ve taken things to a new level. This past week, on my way to brush my teeth before bed, I flicked on the light in my bathroom and there was a centipede on the wall. If there is a bug that rivals a spider for the fearful reaction elicited from me, it’s the centipede. I yelped and called for Angeles and Fernando to come kill it. It wasn’t super huge, but it was a good couple inches long. It made me feel kind of jumpy as I headed to bed, but I didn’t see anything else. I got into bed, turned off the light, and was on my way to falling asleep when I heard a very faint scratching sound. I debated for a few seconds whether or not to turn on the light and find out what it was, figuring I might regret it if I did, or try to forget about it and fall asleep. Long story short, I turned on the light and there was a centipede, at least twice as big, on the ceiling above my bed. I flipped out, ran yelling for Angeles and Fernando to “Come! Come! Kill it! Kill it!” They came, and, because they didn’t want it to fall in my bed, scraped it into a jar to get rid of it. It took me a looong time to fall asleep after that dual encounter. The next morning, I wake up, and sure enough, there’s a big, black spider hanging on the wall over my bed. I told Angeles, so she could come kill it, and she said, “I don’t even believe you.” But it’s true. They know I’m afraid, they think it’s funny, and they’re stalking me. Today another spider was on the wall directly behind my pillow. The suckers are getting bolder. I wish they would figure out that it’s not worth the risk; they might get a good scare out of me, but it’s a suicide mission. They always end up on the bottom side of a shoe.

On the brighter side, we had our first monthly volunteer meeting. Every month, the five of us meet at our country coordinator’s house for an evening of food, conversation, and relaxing. It’s a very informal meeting, where we can just hang out or watch a movie or whatever. This Sunday, we all brought an appetizer and sat around the table talking a long time about our experiences so far. It’s really cool to hear how everyone else is doing, especially the two girls who don’t work in Cuernavaca, because we don’t get to see them as often. It’s also reassuring to hear that everyone has struggles; they might not be the same as mine, but it’s reassuring to hear that it’s common theme (it’s not just me!). I like that we have a good group where we can share those struggles, as well as our successes, and get support from each other. My country coordinator and her husband will actually be in Tucson over my birthday (lucky devils; I would stow away in their suitcases if I thought I could pull it off) so they had a mini celebration, made me spinach artichoke dip and delicious birthday cupcakes, and sang Happy Birthday to me (in English; the Mexican Happy Birthday song is called Las Mañanitas, which is actually a very complicated song with multiple verses that are not repetitive). It was very enjoyable. I think those monthly meetings will be some of the times I look forward to most; it’s not often that we all get to be together as a group.

I think that about sums up the big events of the week. This coming week may prove to be an eventful one as well: there’s another American volunteer (from Madison, go figure) coming to shadow me at work, my actual birthday, and a much anticipated visit at the community center from their sponsoring organization. Here’s hoping it all goes smoothly!

Lessons Learned

Day 34 in Mexico

Two days ago, I had my one month anniversary in Mexico. I won’t claim that every day has flown by (though the weekends sure do), but looking back it’s hard to believe that I’ve been here that long already. I’m quickly falling into a routine, feeling surer of myself as I continue to learn the city, and my Spanish speaking skills are starting to come back to me after a long period of disuse after my study abroad time in Argentina. I thought it might be interesting to reflect on some of the things that I’ve learned so far in my time here. We (the YAGM group) were told at our Chicago orientation that we would almost certainly be taught more by the people we lived and worked with than we taught them, but some of these things I never expected to learn. I’ve already mentioned learning the difficulty in saying no, and that water usually isn’t really water, but that was just the beginning. So, in no particular order:

1. Vocabulary. I thought my Spanish was actually pretty good before I came, forgetting that the only time I was using it was in classes, writing essays and analyzing literature, not related at all to daily living. Some of the new words I’ve learned actually summarize my experience here pretty well, I think.

§ Órale and Ándale, pues – probably the most common phrases I’ve heard here. Órale translates to “cool” or “okay.” As in, “Look at this (insert cool object here).” “Órale.” But it’s a word that seems to pretty much fit any situation, person, greeting, or conversation. Ándale, I would say, translates to a more polite way of saying “Get out of here, you.” When I tell someone I have to go, this is almost always the response.

§ Mande? – also very common, Mexicans here use this phrase instead of como, meaning “Come again?” if you didn’t hear what someone said. It is a phrase I hear often, and a more literal translation as it relates to me is, “Good lord, I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

§ Me pica – what you say if something’s spicy (the verb picar means to bite); probably the next most commonly used phrase for me after the above phrases. Also formed as the question, Pica mucho? or, “Is it really spicy?”

§ Goteras – leaks, as in, “the roof over my bedroom has several goteras.”

§ Topes – speed bumps, a very common occurrence here. Particularly unpleasant to go over in a bus, they are even more common in some smaller towns, like Temixco, a small city close to Cuernavaca. There you can find them every 20-25 feet or so on virtually every road.

§ Zancudos – mosquitos.

§ Patas – Chicken feet, as in, “My friend Sara frequently has patas in her soup.” I have not yet had the pleasure of trying them.

§ Cinta – tape, learned from projects at the kinder.

§ Guajolote – turkey, and ardilla – squirrel, both learned from animal bingo at my job.

§ Internet inalámbrico – wireless Internet. Quite helpful.

§ Various new food words, such as chilaquiles, tunas, micheladas and nepales.

2. My bus routes. This is something I did expect to learn, but some things about them are rather unexpected. The buses here very widely, from glorified vans to luxury tour buses. I take two of the various rutas (another vocab word, simply meaning bus), the 1 and the 13. I have learned to expect good things from the 13 buses. Most of them are much more luxurious than average, with cushy cloth seats and less jarring transmissions, although there do exist the few exceptions. Other things I’ve come to expect from them include truly impressive, tricked-out sound systems, black lights both inside the bus and underneath it, and gleaming silver spikes on the hubcaps. I do love my number 13 buses, and I find my rides to and from work surprisingly relaxing, and some of the time I do my best thinking, planning, and reflecting.

3. To take my umbrella with me everywhere, no matter how pleasantly warm or sunny it is. The chances of it raining any given day are very high during this season.

4. That roosters are smart enough to start crowing every morning at 6:30 a.m. (pretty much on the dot) but are not smart enough to realize that morning is over, and thus keep crowing throughout the day. They have also not gotten the memo about weekends.

5. That, for young children learning English, yellow is across the board the easiest color to say, and usually their favorite.

6. That, every Monday, Mexican school children must wear white for Honores, a ceremony saluting the Mexican flag.

7. Traffic rules. I think it’s a very common experience for Americans to go abroad and be surprised, even shocked, at the lack of traffic control in different countries. That was my experience going to Spain, Guatemala, and Argentina, so I expected the same in kind from Mexico. Still, it’s always an adjustment period. I’ve learned that in Mexico, the right of way belongs to the one who muscles his way in. If you want to turn left across traffic, you pull out and force the oncoming cars to yield to you, and then continue. Same for roundabouts, same for merging onto highways. Pedestrians are not given right away, but there are traffic cops that prove helpful for this purpose. Seatbelts are almost never used by anyone besides the driver (even for young children, which I admit I have a hard time accepting).

8. Slowly but surely, some of the many cafés here. I now know, for example, which ones have wireless Internet, which ones are considered expensive, which one serves the best chicken sandwich ever (I would say equivalent or better to the turkey sandwich at Tucson’s Coffee Xchange, and that’s saying something), which one serves heavenly mango smoothies, and where you can get alfalfa sprouts. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to learn where I can get a truly reliable Skype connection (one of my big priorities right now).

9. That if my host parents eat something and think it’s really spicy, that I should not try to eat it myself. I have had two dangerous run-ins with spicy food – once I was told to try the beans in a soup to see if I liked it. Mistaking a floating chile (added only for flavor, not for actual eating) for a large bean, I ate the entire thing. Oops. I also tried adding a very small chile to my dinner one night, as it seemed like it could have benefited from a little spice. It didn’t seem that harmless when I tasted the tip, so I added the whole thing, seeds and all (it really was quite small). The smallest chiles, turns out, are often the spiciest. There was some serious crying, mouth fanning, and milk drinking that followed.

10. Some of the basic responses at mass; I do, after all, average two masses a weekend. It’s really quite similar to the Lutheran service, but unfortunately even when I recognize something from our service I don’t know how it translates into Spanish. I’m learning just enough, however, to become a more active participant.

11. Many of the injustices, corruption, inequalities, and difficulties that plague Mexico, as well as the stories of some of its people, related to me through my host parents over and after dinner. I’ve heard some of their stories from travels to poorer, more indigenous states, like Chiapas and Guerrero, as well as some from their conversations with the inmates at the jail they visit on Saturdays. Though the subject matter is not often easy to hear, they’ve already taught me a lot, and our conversations after the meal and before I head off to bed are some of my favorite times.

I’m sure there are many more lessons that I’m forgetting, but it’s a start. Next I’m searching, as I said, for reliable Skyping locales, as well as some lessons in Mexican cooking. Hasta luego!

¡Viva Mexico!

Day 27 in Cuernavaca

Another week gone, and another begins. I’ve started teaching English in the kindergarten at La Estación, which was a little nerve wracking for someone with absolutely no teaching experience. I did work in a tutoring center, but I don’t think doing the crossword puzzle while making sure no one messed up the computer log-in system qualifies as experience. Thankfully, it is going pretty well (though I’ve only had two classes, so I guess we will still have to wait and see). I have to teach five different classrooms English, half an hour each, three mornings a week. When each class averages about 30 kids, it’s not an easy task. The kids, however, seem to like me okay. I’ve now become “Maestra Katy” or “Meesss Katy,” which they started calling me before I had even taught them anything; they see me walking by on the street and call out “Maestra! Maestra!” (Teacher! Teacher!). We’ve started with colors; next I’m thinking numbers. In addition to teaching, I’m spending time in the community center, primarily helping out with serving breakfast, cleanup, and whatever other odd jobs they find for me to do; basically, my job description is ESL teacher/dishwasher/inept babysitter. I’ve also begun eating lunch, or comida, in the homes of the women who come to the community center. It’s really remarkable to me how much work these women squeeze in a day, though they don’t work outside their homes. Many of them have upwards of five children, who only go to school for half the day (either morning or afternoon), so they have to do all the cooking and cleaning for a family of seven or more by themselves, plus pick up and take care of their kids when they get off of school, plus do all the shopping, and still find time to spend at the community center, making breakfast for 120 people. I ate today with a mother of five, who was also in charge of the community center breakfast today. She was apologetic that she didn’t have much time to fix me a good meal – she made me chicken in mole sauce, Mexican rice, and tortillas. It was fantastic.

I had a shorter week last week, because of the Mexican Independence Holiday. That was an interesting experience for sure. They block off the downtown and there were tons of people in the zócalo (the central plaza) for the Grito, the cry that kicked off the Mexican War for Independence that they reenact every year at 11 p.m.; at the end they all shout the names of the heroes in the war and “Viva Mexico!” several times. There was mariachi music, street vendors, lots of food, dancing, etc. etc. Before going, I heard all sorts of advice and opinions on the celebration, ranging from “everyone’s drunk and crazy and it’s really really dangerous” to “it’s not dangerous at all, everyone takes their kids.”

Our YAGM group (at left) decided that we couldn’t miss out on the experience, so we decided to go to the Grito but leave fairly early before things got too crazy (though I’m pretty sure Peter thought we were going to get shot). We had absolutely no trouble at all, which was great, and there were a lot of families there. We were going to eat at the house of one of Sara’s teacher friends, but that didn’t exactly work out. She wasn’t there when we arrived, and her family had no idea we were coming; just another cultural mix-up. By that time it was getting closer to the Grito, and also pouring rain, so we went back to the center and camped out in a tarp-covered outdoor restaurant to munch on quesadillas. Then we grabbed a spot standing on some park benches to watch the festivities from a bit of a distance. The crowd went crazy for the mariachi music, though to me it really all sounded the same. Every song that they played, however, got a big cheer from the plaza. They had big screens set up too, so everyone could watch the governor of Morelos as he came out onto the balcony and delivered the Grito, waving the Mexican flag. It was pretty cool to see everyone get whipped into such a patriotic frenzy. Immediately after the Grito, they had a huge fireworks show right overhead; it was so close that I’m pretty sure they shot them off from the other end of the plaza.We did book it out of there fairly shortly thereafter, though, for safety reasons and because of the rain and because two members of our group didn’t have a day off the next day (poor girls!) The rest of us, however, got to sleep in on Wednesday, because there was no work or school. It was very nice to have a mid-week break, though I think that’s the last holiday that we’ll have in awhile, perhaps until Dia de los Muertos in November. Here are some pictures of the festivities, the rain-soaked crowd, and me and Peter (also rain-soaked) all courtesy of Sara's camera/Facebook album that I decided to steal. Gracias!

Other than that, things are going pretty well; I’m just starting to settle into a routine, which apparently involves two masses a week – one on Saturday at the jail, and one on Sunday (and I’m not even Catholic!) The weather has improved, thankfully, and although it still rains quite a bit it’s interspersed with some warm, sunny days. I’m starting to catch on to some of the Mexican customs; I’ve recently discovered how difficult it is to say “no” to an invitation, especially since it’s considered rude here to say “no” outright. At the same time, even if you do manage to say “no” in an indirect way, that somehow translates into “yes, of course.” It’s just easier to accept and go along. Thing is definitely a learn as you go experience; it’ll be interesting to see what I learn next.

Am I in Mexico or Seattle?

Day 21 in Cuernavaca

Well, unfortunately the beautiful weather has subsided for now and has been replaced by almost relentless rain. It not only pours every night, it now rains almost every afternoon, and some mornings as well. It seems to have been perpetually cloudy for the past week and a half, and my host family said that Mexico City is having some pretty major flooding problems. Yikes. I look forward to seeing the sunshine’s return (my Arizona summer tan has, alas, faded away).

I’ve completed my first week of work and am just starting on the next. I’m still working on figuring out my role at work, as there appears to be a lack of the workplace structure that I am familiar with. I’ll walk you though what has so far been a typical day: I arrive at my first work site, the community center at La Estación, shortly before nine, at the tail end of their breakfast program. One of their most successful programs is their breakfast program; they provide a hot meal with juice and jello to the neighborhood’s mothers and children. Between 100 and 120 people show up between 8 and 9 a.m. every weekday to eat, and it’s no dining hall. It’s a rather small space that for an hour comes alive with people. The mothers in the community sign up for rotating breakfast shifts every week, doing all the shopping, cooking and cleanup. They make a mean breakfast, though it’s not a breakfast that I’m used to. I am now, before nine in the morning, eating tamales, enchiladas, quesadillas, tostadas, and everything with salsa picante (translation: spicy!). It’s really something. Then I go to the kindergarten. There are three different levels, from three year olds to five year olds, and I’ll be teaching (or trying to teach) them some basic English – colors, numbers, basic vocabulary. This first week I spent observing, and now I’ll be forming some lesson plans and starting this week. I think we’re going to start with the color red. The three year olds don’t know their colors in Spanish yet, so it will be interesting for all of us, especially since I have no teaching experience and the kids can be rather… rambunctious.

When the kinder gets out at noon, I go back to the community center (it’s right across the street). So far, there hasn’t been too much to do there; the center offers workshops, but apparently the workshops haven’t been doing well, and it’s hard to maintain an interest level in the community. I did go to a reading workshop for children on Friday afternoons, where the kids can borrow books to take home, bring them back and exchange them for a new one. It’s a good program, but not very many kids came. I imagine that the day to day life in the community, which as I mentioned is one of the most marginalized in town, can be so demanding that attending community workshops almost inevitably takes a backseat to other, more pressing needs. There are several very dedicated women, however, that spend a lot of time in the center. I’m beginning to understand the importance here of “placticando,” or chatting. Face to face communication is not curtailed like it is in the U.S. There is a lot of importance placed on simply talking, chatting, and catching up. I spend quite a bit of time placticando, either at work or with my family, though my Spanish is definitely in need of some improvement. Hopefully that will come with time. We also eat in the early afternoon as well, and starting this week I’ll be going into the women’s homes to eat. I’m very much looking forward to that; some of them are talking about teaching me how to cook, which sounds fabulous, though since I’m so inept in the kitchen it might be harder than they expect.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I leave after lunch and go to Casa Tatic, where I am helping seven to nine year olds with their reading, homework, and spelling (in Spanish). I’ve only been twice, but it seems to be a good fit for me; there aren’t as many kids (in the kinder at La Estación, class size averages around 30), so I can sit and work with them individually. I feel more like a tutor or reading specialist than anything, and it’s really a joyous feeling to sit and listen to a little girl read a book aloud. We also eat at this worksite; Casa Tatic is part of a larger group of programs, and it not only provides an after-school program, but the kids get a meal, a vitamin, brush their teeth, and get some play time. A couple of them haven’t gone to school, and this is their only place to learn how to read. It’s really an impressive program, I think.

My host family continues to include me regularly in their activities. This Saturday I accompanied them to the prison outside of Cuernavaca. Every Saturday they and other volunteers visit the inmates, bring a meal, and host a Mass. I walked with them into an outdoor courtyard with about 400 inmates milling around. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous; in fact, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. We’re taught to be wary of men here in general, that they can be more verbally aggressive than men in the States, and I was walking into a crowd not only of 400 men, but 400 men convicted of crimes? However, it turned out to be a really good experience. All of the men were very kind, friendly, and respectful. I ate with a few of them (eating is a very common theme to my activity here, if you haven’t noticed), and one even got me a Coke when I said I didn’t like the water (which isn’t really water, it’s fruit juice, or agua de whatever fruit). Many of them came up to shake my hand after the mass, and a couple even spoke some English to me (not much more than “where are you from?” but I was still impressed). I definitely think it’s an activity I will continue with.

I’m enjoying the company of my fellow volunteers, though I do miss seeing them as much as I did when we were in orientation. Still, it’s nice to meet up and chat, and watch television when we can, haha. Poor Peter is seriously missing his tennis and football, and I almost died when I went to Sarah’s house over the weekend and Friends was on. I am such a television addict; it’s like going through withdrawal. I also miss my kitty friends, though I did stop by the retreat center this week to say hello. They didn’t seem overly impressed to see me.

Looking forward to this week; it’s Dia de Independencia on Tuesday night/Wednesday, which kicks off with the Grito de Dolores in the city center and is followed by much celebration and a day off on Wednesday. Should be quite the experience. Also hoping the weather will improve, but we supposedly have a month to go in the rainy season. Ah, well. Hasta pronto!