Saturday, October 12, 2013

Brave Little Champion

I've lived a full day in Oaxaca. I wasn't sure I would after such a fitful sleep last night! I dreamt of cockroaches and crashed parties and old friends, but in between these odd dreams I woke up sweating, or freezing, or dying of thirst.

I imagine the type of sleep I had was not very unlike one's first night in rehab.

But, in the morning – I rose! With the sun, even, because apparently the sun comes up rather late (and rather quickly) here in October. Or maybe my haze made me feel that way.

At about 7:20 AM I took a shower, but it took me about 3 minutes to realize that it takes about 3 minutes for the hot water to come on. Then, at 7:45 AM I went down to the cocina (kitchen) where Marianita (the house maid) was cooking my desayuno (breakfast). Up to this point, I still hadn't met either of my host parents. One plate into breakfast (fresh, cut cantaloupe which I usually hate but really enjoyed) my host father entered the room.

Renee. A lovely, jovial man who smiles often and gently corrects my flawed Spanish. He asked me all about veganism, my family, told me about his two sons, and then (despues de desayuno) walked me to the Instituto where I needed to take a test. We arrived early, and the gates were closed, so he walked me to a park – which is safe to run in during the day – and around a few blocks before we happened upon the gates again. This time, a young man (foreign as well) was there, and he asked if I felt safe enough to wait the last few minutes with this guy so he could get about his day.

So he left, and I made friends with Frances. Frances is from the UK and is studying Pyschology. He graduated recently, and is making his way for a masters soon – but not until after he's done working a resort during the ski season (5 months in France). Lucky. He speaks a little Spanish, but I speak quite a bit more...which meant that during our exploration of the city, I was the one that spoke.

Surprising, right? I was terrified.

But before all of that...I took a placement test, paid tuition, and had an orientation that informed that a.) STDs and AIDS (I guess it's not an STD) can be spread in Oaxaca and b.) traveling while female and alone is generally a terrible idea, so make friends. Luckily, I had already met Frances.

After we spent about 15 minutes on the school WiFi discussion tattoos and technology addiction, we decided to be brave little champions and wander out into the wild, wild Oaxaca. First, we walked aimlessly and got lost. We ended up asking for directions at a cell phone store. Then, we walked back to the school, and used a map to get us to food: Itanoni!!

I read about this place before coming, and was excited to offer it up as a suggestion when we became hungry. Just as I had suspected, it did not disappoint. I had two tetelas (corn tortillas stuffed with things) – one with beans, and one with mushrooms. Yum. They were each about the size of a large piece of pizza. All in all, my whole lunch cost me 40 pesos (or somewhere in the ballpark of just under 5 dollars).

What the awesome.

After eating, I dropped my backpack off at my host family's place (by the way, I basically have a private apartment within their home. A living room and a bathroom all to myself). The rules state that we must leave our host friends of the opposite sex outside (which I understand), so Frances had to stay on the street.

Weirdly, that reminds me that I made friends with a street dog today. I found it charming, my host father found it kind of gross.

After ditching my laptop (and briefly talking to my host mother, Paula), we walked down the street to the zocalo (square). It's a straight shot and only about 20 minutes away. And there's a pedestrians only section! We just weaved through the square, stopped to listen to several people protest the arrest of the protesters recently arrested in Mexico City, and read the amazing, political street graffiti. There's no better way to be heard than to put your message in an intensely public place.

We wandered into a large market (only to take a gander) and then over to a technology show/hacker's convention next to a large church. Then, we spent about 10 minutes at a public display with information about mental illness. We stood and read the long description of how mental illness affects people, the mission of the group, and other things – all in Spanish. At one point, I said a word funny (because I was reading in Spanish but speaking in English simultaneously) and we both stopped and laughed. Then we realized the woman with the group was right behind us, and felt odd – what if she thought we were laughing at mental illness? Both Frances and I walked away feeling proud at our abilities to understand so much Spanish.

After all of that, we decided to walk around our neighborhood a bit more (we're about a block apart), and, after happening upon an Irish pub, we had to go in. The curiosity was too much. It looked so very Irish publike. Inside was intensely hilarious for both of us. The chairs were upholstered in Scottish tartan fabric, the music was generally American (sometimes a bit of reggae), the wall decorations were all American, and they only served 2 Irish beers. However, it was very very much like an English /American bar, and both Frances and I felt a bit like we were back in our home-cities.

Now I'm back at home, but my family is out. They have WiFi, but I haven't gotten the code yet, so I'm typing all of this into a word document. I'll hopefully get to copy and paste it in to my blog tonight. I've taken a few photos with my phone, and hope to upload them soon.


Oh – and last night, I brushed my teeth with the tap water. I'm still alive, but I freaked myself out because I could hear all of your voices telling me “use bottled water to brush your teeth.”

And, I successfully did not allow water into my mouth during my shower. Which I made sure to take quickly, as water is not an easy commodity to come by in Oaxaca. In fact, it is delivered by truck, and a bit murky colored. The family buys 10 gallon cases of drinking water.

I wish I could say more – about the hazy clouds that hang over the mountains, the way the rain sounds when it hits the tin rooftops, how it smells when it meets the hot asphalt, about the graffiti, the taxis, the wild dogs. In due time, I suppose. I'm sure I'll find the accurate words to describe these things eventually.

If not, you'll just have to see it for yourself.  

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