Put A Smile On Your Face.

Growing up (and even now) my dad would always tell us that happiness is a choice.
He would say that when you wake up, you get to decide: Am I going to be happy today? Or am I going to be (insert unhappy emotion here).

Now, he'd typically say this when one of us kids was in a particularly bad mood, and hearing that we were choosing to be in a bad mood often just made us (more) mad.

And maybe at that age it wasn't totally a choice; a lot of it was hormonal.
But, there was still some choice involved.

Now that I'm a rational, grown human being I can easily understand where he was coming from with that little bit of insight.

He's right.
He's always been right.

Every day, I wake up and I get to choose the path my day will take; it's always easier to take the positive path.

Even on a bad day, or when things get rough...it's still easier to be positive, to choose to be happy in spite of the issues.

Life was never made easier by frowning or wallowing.
So, yes. Sometimes life gets weird and hard. Sometimes a miserable day is absolutely necessary.
Sometimes life throws curveballs.

But life is too short to waste it feeling sorry for ourselves...for wallowing, for worrying, for anger.
Instead, we should look ahead towards the things we know we enjoy, and move through our struggles with a positive attitude.

Way more can be done to address what's bothering you if you carry a clear head on your shoulders, and a smile on your face.

And now for a list of 10 things that make me happy:
1.) butterflies
2.) snuggling with babies
3.) the trike (a motorcycle)
4.) good friends
5.) fresh pressed juices
6.) avocados
7.) sunshine
8.) learning new things
9.) daisies
10.) running

All The World's A Stage.

Let's start with the positives.
Actually, I'm not so sure it's a "positive" but it's not the angry rant that I have brewing in the depths of my soul.

So let's start with something lighter.

Street kids.

They are literally on every street in Oaxaca. Hungry, dirty, hilarious, vivacious, little kids who typically spend their days begging for money.

And occasionally food.

Because I am almost 100% certain they don't get to keep the money they collect, I will not give them any. But food? Always.

If a child asks me for food, I will never say no. Starving or not.
And so today, when Lisa and I were walking to the little park to sit and eat lunch, and this little chico came up alongside us asking for some of our peanuts, we happily obliged.

And I gave him a sucker.
And then a woman passed by, selling alegría and I bought those and gave him that, too.

The look on his face was pure shock. He had only asked for peanuts.
He walked back towards his accordion-playing dad with his hands full, and a spring in his step, and I felt a little better knowing that they'd have something extra to eat today.

- - - - -

Now about that angry rant.

As much as I love Oaxaca - and I really, really love it here - there is one thing that I just can't figure out how to approach: the bounty of unwanted attention.

I can handle the annoying noises.
I just pretend I don't hear them. I keep my head down. I don't make eye contact. I don't say hello.
Well, 88% of the time.

But despite trying to make myself invisible, the fact of the matter is simply that I'm not. And I'm different.

And I'm not sure why, but for some reason my differentness seems to be synonymous with "Hey, complete stranger! Yeah, you! I don't know you but why don't you come talk to me? I'd really love to answer all your really personal questions!"

At least once a day, but usually 2 or 3 times, I am approached by a complete stranger (of the male variety). Sometimes, these conversations are innocent: why are you here, what do you think about Oaxaca?

But more often than not, they go like this:
Them: (catching pace with me) "Hola."
Me: - Looking at them without saying anything. -
Them: Are you here for vacations?
Me: No. I live here.
Them: What do you do?
Me: I have a job. That's why I live here.
Them: Where did you learn Spanish?
Me: Good question.
Them: Where do you live?
Me: Here.
Them: - laughing because I'm being difficult. -
Me: - still walking -
Them: You're really a beautiful woman.

This typically ends in a proposition of some sort. Am I interested in going to a hotel? Do I want to hook up somewhere? Do I live alone?

What I want...is to walk down the street...in peace.

I realize this sounds like a silly thing to continue to be angry about. But, unless you have to deal with it on a regular basis, you don't really get it. A lot of people here don't get it. I was recently walking down the street with a male friend, local to the area, and out of seemingly nowhere he exasperatedly said, "Is this what it's like for you every time you leave the house?"

And all he was witnessing were the stares. I was walking with him, so no one was going to say anything to me.

Before I could answer his question, he answered it himself saying that it's probably 10x worse when I'm by myself, and that he'd never realized it was so bad.

- - - - -

This is the last I'll complain about it for a while. But sometimes it destroys your confidence. It shakes you. It makes you question everything about yourself. The way you're dressed, the way you walk, the way you hold your head up. It makes you hyper aware of everything.

You always have an audience.

But I have found that if you make a really ridiculous face at people when they say something crass, they often don't know what to do with themselves, or how to interact with you.

And it's hilarious.

A No Good, Very Bad Day. / El Día Horrible y Molesto

I woke up on the right side of the bed.
Me desperté de buen humor.

I had some water, got some work done, put my clothes on and decided to check out a little "natural" foods store by my house in the hopes that I would encounter rice flour and buckwheat groats (to make myself some pancakes, obviously).

Tomé agua, trabajé unas horas, me puse la ropa, y decidí caminar a una tienda cerca de mi casa (trigo verde) de "cosas naturales" con la esperanza de que encontraría harina de arroz y buckwheat (para cocinar pancakes sin gluten).

I wasn't holding my breath about the rice flour and buckwheat, so it wasn't a huge surprised that the store didn't carry it.

Entendí que la probabilidad de encontrar estas cosas no fue probable y por eso no estaba sorprendida que la tiendo no las tenía. 

But, everything else that happened next was kind of annoying.

Pero todo lo que ocurrió después me hizo agravada.

1.) I bought my soy milk, soy sauce, and alegría with 500 pesos. I realize this is a bitch move, but the bank gives you these large, annoying bills...and you have to break them somewhere...

1.) Compré leche de soya, salsa de soya, y alegría con 500 pesos. Lo sé. Entiendo que no hay nadie en todo el país que quiere cambiar 500 pesos. Pero que voy a hacer cuando el banco me los da? Tengo que usar los de alguna manera...

2.) The cashier tried to shortchange me by $200 pesos. Then she acted mad when I requested the rest of my change.  How many extranjeros has she short changed? And seriously, doesn't she understand that "math is a universal language?"

2.) La cajera trató de robar $200 pesos de mi cambio. Y fue ella que se puso enojada cuando le dije que quería mi cambio en completo. Eso me hizo pensar en cuantas personas la mujer ha engañado...y ¿no puede entender que los números son universales? 

That really, really bothered me. But I tried to just shake it off, and headed to el mercado.

Eso realmente me molestó, pero recuperé, y me fui al mercado.

3.) Every vendor in the market was in a bad mood (save the one woman who I buy bananas from. She's always in a good mood). They were all upset about something (maybe it's the influx of 5 million foreigners, half of them being demanding, rude, English speaking snobs). Or maybe the traffic because of the Guelagetza had them all bothered...because there were quite a number of vendors setting up pretty late for a Saturday morning.

3.) Cada vendedor en el mercado era de mal humor (con una excepción: la mujer que me vende los plátanos. Siempre está de buen humor). Todos eran molestos por algo (probablemente los 5 millones de extranjeros en la ciudad, la mayoría sin las capacidades de hablar Español). O...tal vez por el tráfico (debido a La Guelagetza). 

Anyway, that was annoying too...because they're typically all so happy. I didn't like that they had been having bad mornings, too.

Eso me molestó también porque típicamente todos los vendedores están felices! No me gustaba que estuvieran teniendo problemas también. 

4.) On my way home, I was taunted by these two young men. As I am a "tall" white girl living in Oaxaca, I am no stranger to being whistled, "chutched," and called at (or chased down, spoken to, etc.). But because I had already had an annoying morning, these two guys really got under my skin. They followed me down the street, trying to think of things to say about me.

4.) Mientras estaba caminando a mi casa, 2 jóvenes decidieron molestarme con tonterías. Ya que estoy una mujer "alta" y viviendo en Oaxaca, estoy acostumbrada de escuchar chiflas, "ch-ch", y otras cosas (o tener alguien perseguirme, o hablar conmigo, etc.). Pero, como había estado teniendo una mañana molesta, estos jóvenes me hicieron muy enojado. Me estaban persiguiendo y diciendo cosas groseras. 

"Oh, she thinks she's sooooo cool."
"Hey, aren't you going to turn around and flirt with us?"
"Oye, let me just touch one of them (referring to my chest)."

"Oye, ella piensa que ella es súper genial."
"Chica, no vas a coquetear con nosotros?"
"Oye, solo quiero tocar una! (en referencia a mi pecho)." 

So I gave them the finger.
And they laughed.
And that made me mad that they were laughing.

Y los "dí el dedo."
Y se me burlaron.
Y eso me hizo enojada que estaban riéndome. 

5.) When I got home, I realized I forgot to buy tostadas. I had to go back out, despite wanting to crawl into a cave and die.

5.) Cuando llegué a casa, recordé que había olvidado de comprar tostados. Tenía que salir otra ves, a pesar de querer esconderme en una cueva y morirme. 

6.) I got cat called by no less than 10 different men ON ONE BLOCK.

6.) 10+ hombres me dijeron cosas molestas, todos en la misma cuadra. 

7.) A man cut me off in line at the store, and then apologized profusely when he heard me speaking Spanish with the cashier. What the heck?! So, now because I speak Spanish I deserve my place in line?!

7.) Un hombre le tomó mi lugar en la fila en la tienda, pero después de escucharme hablar en Español con el cajero, decidió ofrecer disculpas. ¿Cómo crees? ¿Ahora sabes que puedo hablar español y por eso me vas a ofrecer disculpas?

That bothered me.
And I haven't gone out since (well, I did go running...but my house is attached to the gym). Speaking of which...

Eso me molestó.
Y no he salido de la casa desde la mañana (pues, corrí en el gimnasio, pero es adjuntado a mi casa)...Ah, eso me recuerda... 

8.) The dueño of my depa (apartment) spent 10 minutes lecturing me about how I need to eat more, especially as a vegan, especially because he never sees me eating, especially because I run. He asked me why I don't eat that much, and I said "I haven't been that hungry."

8.) El dueño de mi depa me habló durante 10 minutes, y me estaba diciendo que necesito comer más porque nunca me ve con comida, y especialmente porque me gusta correr. Me preguntó por qué no como mucho, y le dije que no he tenido mucho hambre. 

He looked at me skeptically.
That bothered me.

No me creyó.
Eso me molestó.

9.) When I decided to cook, my chickpeas had gone slightly sour. That wasn't a huge deal, as I had ample other things to prepare myself. But I love chickpeas, and so it made me sad.

9.) Decidí cocinar y descubrí que mis chickpeas se estropearon. Eso no fue algo muy grande ya que tenía muchas otras cosas que cocinar...pero me gustan los chickpeas, y por eso me puso triste. 

So there you have it, the story of my no good, very bad day (so far). Perhaps it will get better, perhaps it will get worse.

Bueno, aquí tienes mi historia del día horrible y molesto. Quizá vaya a mejorar. Quizá vaya a empeorar. 

Either way, it is what it is. Writing about it is cathartic, and reading it to myself makes me chuckle a little. So I suppose everything is fine, if I've ended up here with a smile on my face.

De cualquier manera, es lo que es. Escribir sobre estas cosas es catártico...y leerlo a mí misma me hacer reír un poco. Supongo que cosas no son tan malas si estoy sonriendo. 

The end.

A Love Letter

I love Oaxaca.

I realize that this isn't a huge secret. But it is the truth. I just love it here.
I've been sick since before I got here...but do I care?

No.
How can I?
I'm in love with Oaxaca, and who can be sick when they are in love?

There's enough out there for me to enjoy that I find a way to conquer whatever it is that ails me, and put myself in the sun. On the terrace. In the streets.

I've been here a week, but it feels like forever....in the best way. Like the pieces finally fit. Like somehow, I was always here.

TCKs will understand this. For example, I was walking down the street thinking today about normal things: groceries, my plans for holidays, doctors appointments, hanging out with friends..

...and at no point did I stop to think, "In the next place I live, I'll...."

Nope. That door is closed for now. There is no next place I'd rather live. Not yet. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not next April.

I suppose I never stopped to think about what beautiful feels like.
But it feels like this.

And I hope someday, you find it too.

The Angry Girl Rant.

I am not a cautionary tale.

I am your neighbor, your cousin, your daughter, friend, niece, sister, aunt... and I am an independent thinker, and I'm living my life as authentically as I can.

Unfortunately, there are those who exist in my life who find my way of thinking and living to be less than what they would imagine is acceptable.

Well, I'm just going to take off my filter and say one thing to you (*you* being a general, multiple bodied *you*):

I don't care what you think. The fact that you are putting my life under your microscope only tells me one thing: you want out of your own, and into mine. Otherwise, you wouldn't be meddling. You wouldn't have things to say.

Your disappointing behavior is bleeding jealousy everywhere.

My honest thoughts are...if you can't support me and/or at least try to understand the decisions I have made, am making, and will make...then you're just looking for one more thing to distract you from your own unfulfilling lot; I refuse to be that person for you.

And now, here's my unsolicited advice from me to you: wake up tomorrow, and do something different. Ask the questions you've been too afraid to ask. Do the thing you've been too afraid to do. Change the life you're tired of living.

But stay the hell away from mine until you've come to an adult understanding of what it means to live and let live.

Vignettes.

Enjoy these interesting, weird moments from the last two days:

Yesterday, at approximately 9:45 AM, I was sitting in the Organic Market - enjoying some pomegranate. A man in his 60s sat right next to me, and then proceeded to say, "You are a beautiful woman." Then, he looked me up and down and as serious as can be he added: "Are you a vegetarian? You look like a vegetarian."

Say what? I mean, I am a vegan so...there's that.
But I guess I look like a vegetable eater.

I'll take it.

--

Yesterday, Lisa and I spent more time than is probably natural trying to figure out the difference between lemons & limes in Spanish (like, the word for them). After surveying multiple people, it turns out...they are the same. Lemons and limes are both "limón."

--

This afternoon, around 2:00 pm, I was in the very busy mercado. Someone tried to pick-pocket out of my beautiful orange bag, but it has velcro AND straps...so he got caught. Didn't he know I designed this bag specifically with him in mind? Anyway, it really freaked him out when I turned and looked him straight in the face. Then he hurried away.

--

Yesterday evening, I was out with some people for a little while...and ended up unfortunately situated amongst a group of drunk men who got in a beer fight, which almost turned into a real fight, which I was able to diffuse with my sober, rational, friendly words. Unfortunately, I still have to deal with my beer soaked sweater and jeans.

Jerks!

--

Yesterday morning, I was walking with Ryo & Lisa to the ICO when we came upon some little street dogs. I looked at one and she made eye contact with me...and proceeded to follow us almost the entire time. Poor little chica. She was so friendly, and just wanted a snack.

I named her Gomi. My other dog, from last year, lived in the Zocalo and her name was Basura. As you can see, I have a trend going. (Gomi: garbage - Basura: trash --- I name them this because it is 1.) how they are often treated, and 2.) what they eat).

--

The end.

The Day The Girl Came Home

Here I am, at 7:12 in the morning on the 4th of July - a Friday, propped up against the wall with my laptop balancing delicately over the tops of my thighs.

Outside my window, I can hear dogs barking, traffic beginning to stir...church bells, and kitchen utensils. Oaxaca has decided to wake up gently this morning.

The sun is up and out, but the morning rain clouds are preventing it from shining through my window. I should probably be sitting out on the amazing terrace overlooking the Guelagetza stadium on one side, and Santo Domingo on the other, but that would require a series of dressing, bug-repellent-applying, and possibly early morning socializing - none of which I'm quite ready for.

I'm sick.
I have been sick for several days.
Today, it seems to be less in my stomach and more in my chest/sinuses. But, if I have to be sick...I'd rather be it here.

I live in an apartment right in the heart of town. It's close to everything you could ever think of, and equally as equipped. I don't want for anything (except a rice cooker, which I will promptly purchase). José - the rad fellow who owns this place, and deserves a blog post devoted to him - has said I can have some plants if I want.

He laughed when I asked.
"Who asks a question like that?" He said.
"Well what if I bought them and you didn't like them?" I said.
"That's ridiculous." He replied...going on to tell me the best ways to tie up some tomato plants, if I get them, so that they grow just right.

The apartment I live in is more than just an apartment. It's not like what you're thinking, as far as in the USA. I do not have my own little isolation cage adorned with all the things everyone keeps in their isolation cages.  Nope. I have a private bedroom and bathroom, which opens up into communal spaces. The communal bar and living room. The communal terrace and dining area. The communal, and very well stocked, kitchen.

Last night, José, Margot, los franceses, and I passed a few hours on the terrace, chatting, making little plans and laughing while getting pumped for the futbol game -  sharing words, and time.

There are multiple studies that show that communal living makes for happier people. I believe it. What's the point of living if you're not sharing that experience with others?

So, here I am. I'm sick, underslept, and I'm still partially in bed.
But I'm happy.
How could I not be?