The Flea.

Okay. So maybe ''The Flea'' isn't the proper name for this post, since it's actually about parasites.
Yes. You read correctly.

Parasites.

Here's the thing: apparently, it's really common in this part of the world to take a pill that kills the parasites in your body....every 6 months.

I kid you not. There are commercials of Asian families speaking Spanish, singing a jingle about taking their anti-parasitic.

When I first heard this, I thought it was a joke.
"No way." Those are the exact words I spoke.

Jethro proceeded to explain to me that in these parts, parasites live in everything. Your food. Your water. The air in the markets.

Then he told me about one parasite that lays eggs in your body, sometimes in your brain, and if the eggs hatch you die.  Or become a vegetable. Or lose your speech.

....and that is why people take anti-parasite pills.

So it's been about 2 weeks since this terrible news was broken to me, and all I can think about is how never, not a single time in my entire 26 years of existence, have I ever taken a pill to kill parasites in my body.

I'm convinced that my insides are crawling with microscopic, and not so microscopic, blood sucking, intestine biting creatures that are taking my life force and starting families in my guts.

Seriously. Could this be the reason for the dark circles under my eyes? The strange abdominal pains that awake me in the night?

Are parasites nocturnal?

I think I've accidentally waited this long because I'm afraid. I don't think I need to explain why or what it is I'm afraid of.

And here's a question: why don't we do this in the USA? Are we the only country that doesn't do this? Do we think we're just immune to parasites? Doesn't anyone know that a good portion of our produce comes form Mexico?

Or, is everyone in on this? Has everyone always been taking measures against parasites?
Am I the only one who didn't know about this?

A Beautiful Life.

So this is the truth of the situation, my living situation.
You have seen the snapshots and read the snippets I share on Facebook, and have likely come to your conclusions about what life is like down here.

But while I was reading an email from a cousin of mine, who shared a little bit about the culture of where she's living in Argentina, I realized I haven't really explained anything.

So here it is. The truth:

México is not a poor country. The government is incredibly wealthy...however the majority of that money sits in political pockets, and doesn't find its way to where it belongs. You know. With the people.

So México is not poor. But there are a lot of poor Mexicans. Unfortunately, the further you live away from México City, the poorer it gets. It's very Hunger-Gamesy. Those in the Federal District have more money. Those furthest away have the least.

I am living in the 2nd poorest state in México, a place called Oaxaca (pronounced wah-ha-kah). While there may not be a ton of money flowing through the state (it's so poor the government has special prices on everything. Gym memberships are 1/3rd the cost that they are just 3 hours north in Puebla. Tortillas are 7 pesos for half a kilo so that people can afford them), the area is very rich in culture. There is a heavy indigenous presence here, and this translates into everything. Walking down the street you hear the various dialects of indigenous languages (such as zapoteco or triqui) being spoken. The pueblos where they live are about 30 minutes outside the city, and there you can encounter generational crafters making weaved goods, alebrijes (one of the most amazing things I've ever encountered in my life), and barro verde/negro - which is pottery specific to this region.

These things can also be encountered in the city, but you get a deeper understanding of the process when you get into the villages.

Many people equate poverty with danger. I am here to confirm that Oaxaca is not a dangerous state. Many of you are aware of what is happening in Guerrero, Michoacan, and on the border. These areas do not represent the majority of México. Yes, what is happening there is very dangerous, and very sad. But, just like Detroit and the south side of Chicago, or the east side of Los Angeles do not speak for the majority of the USA, these rogue regions of México do not represent the entire country.

Like in any city in any country in the world, crime does occur here...but it's not very unlike what you experience in your own town. In fact, Oaxaca is a safer place than Minneapolis...and the weather is much more agreeable.

Speaking of weather, etc., let me paint you a picture of a normal day in the city (for me):

I leave my house at 830am, and I am greeted by the sound of metal security doors being released as businesses begin to open for the day. Traffic is just starting to pick up, and there is a faint smell of exhaust in the air. The sun hits me and instantly warms me up; this time of year it's in the 60s at night and near 80 in the afternoons. Layered clothing is a must.

I check 6 ways before I cross the street, as pedestrians do not have the right of way and cars and bikes come flying out of nowhere all the time. As I cross out of the sun over to a shadier part of the street, I have to pick up my pace to bustle my way ahead of 3 people blocking the sidewalk, and walking very, very slowly. As I get to the next street, a taxi slows down to see if I want to get in, but all they do is impede my path and make me yell ''muevete!!" (move it!). I pass a really old lady with a witches voice, begging for food or money.

"Señora" she croaks at me. "Me regalas comiiiiida? Por favor!?"
Her voice is desperate but I carry on ahead. There will be another hungry woman on the next corner, and a family begging on the next. There is nothing I can do to remedy the situation.

I pass a man playing an accordion. His son asks for monedas, and I give him a handful of suckers. They both seem satisfied.

I look up and get a chance to take in my surroundings. The teachers are still on strike in the Zocalo, making it impossible to walk through. Vendors have taken up the remaining space. It's best to avoid that area, despite how much I love it. It's a mess and beginning to smell.

I go north, and smile as I remember for the 100th time how much I love the colors on the buildings, and the way the clouds sit always stuck in the mountains. The elevation isn't that high, but for whatever reason those clouds always hover there. I'm not paying attention and I almost get hit by a taxi. Neither of us gets angry.

I pass a man selling tamale tortas on the corner (at this time of day, there is a tamale cart on every corner). School kids huddle around him. It's an easy and convenient breakfast (but an awful lot of carbs!). I walk half a block further and buy fruit and juice from a lady with a post in the doorway. $2.50 for breakfast. She sells the best stuff in the city.

A block ahead is Santo Domingo. I decide if I want to go straight, and greet the jewelry vendors, or take a right and go around the backside of the botanical garden. Either way I end up walking through the modestly size Conzatti park, where one group is meeting for a bike ride, and another is having bible study. There's also a tai chi group by the fountain. I say hello to the shoe shiners and nod at the doctors eating breakfast in Cafe Arabia.

I pass a school as I get close to the place where I work. Parents say goodbye to their kids. One mom is wearing sweats, a tshirt, and 4 inch stilettos. I have to stifle a laugh, and then I almost trip over the tree stump of the tree with a face painted on it.

By this time, 5 people have called me güerita, 3 people have said something crass, several have exchange with me polite hellos, and 1 or 2 stray dogs have attempted to follow me to my final destination.

I arrive at work to be greeted by a chorus of ''buenos días! muy buenos días!'' and run to the bathroom (by this time I've been walking for 30 minutes). The septic system in Mexico cannot handle waste paper; everything goes into the waste basket. I wonder to myself if I will get confused when I get back to the states....

After work, I decide to take a shower. I heat my gas water heater with a lighter, and wait 15 minutes for the water to heat up. In the shower, I wash my socks and underwear because the laundromat doesn't do it for you. I am no longer careful to avoid getting the water in my mouth. I brush my teeth and rinse my mouth with it. I'm still alive. I have to remember to turn off the water heater. My house smells like camping for a while afterward...

I like it.

The kitchen does not have hot water, but if I wait to wash my dishes until the afternoon, the sun will have been heating the water tanks on the roof, and I will get hot water for the dishes. Tricky.

I open my windows and a burst of hibiscus flowers is just on the other side. I listen to the traffic, and wonder if tomorrow I'll eat a tlayuda (google it) or settle for pasta in my apartment.

There is always more to share. I could keep writing about food (Oaxaca has a lot to offer. It's best that I just take pictures and do a photo essay to explain it), or people to be encountered throughout the city. I could tell you about the independent art museums, or the atmosphere of the city at night.

But there is time for that in the future.
The point is that there is so much to love and appreciate about this city, and not to share as much as I can would be an utter waste and shame.

It really is a beautiful life. 

Why Oaxaca, and...Don't I Miss My Family?

So, occasionally Jethro and I play the "you ask me a question, and then I ask you a question" game. Yesterday, he asked me the following questions:

1.) Why Oaxaca? 

2.) Don't you miss your family?

A veces, Jethro y yo jugamos el "pregúntame algo" juego. 

Ayer, me preguntó dos preguntas:

1.) ¿Por qué Oaxaca?

2.) ¿Extrañas a tu familia?

I get these questions from other people as well, and figured they'd make for an interesting blog post. If you end up super bored, I apologize. 

Otras personas me han preguntado esto también, y pienso que están buenos temas para un nuevo ''blog post.''

Si mueras de aburrimiento, te ofrezco mis disculpas. 

Actually, I don't. 

Ok, maybe a little. 

...o tal vez no. 

Okay. Quizá un poco. 

Anyway - let's start with #1: Why Oaxaca?

-- When I decided to have the immersion Spanish experience, I asked around. I asked friends who had done Spanish immersion programs all over the place, and they said 1.) do it, it'll work wonders on your Spanish and 2.) go to Oaxaca. 

People who studied in Puebla, Chiapas, Guatemala, Mexico City, and Guadalajara had all come, at some point, to Oaxaca...and it made a big enough impression that all of them said "go there." It didn't hurt that the price was also ridiculously reasonable...and that a lifelong dream of mine to experience a genuine Day of the Dead could be attained in Oaxaca. 

Okay. Vamos a empezar con #1: ¿Por qué Oaxaca?

-- Cuando decidí tener la experiencia de inmersión de español, pregunté a unos amigos que ya habían estudiado en programas en lugares diferentes (en México y otros países) y me dijeron dos cosas... 1.) hazlo! va a ayudar a tu español! y 2.) vete a Oaxaca! 

Gente que había estudiado en Puebla, Chiapas, Guatemala, el DF, y Guadalajara habían visitado a Oaxaca y la ciudad les hizo una impresión fuerte...tan fuerte que todas mis dijeron venir aquí. Y también el precio estaba muy reasonable...y tuve el sueño de tener la experience del Día de los Muertos...y sabía que podría actualizar este sueño aquí. 

So I bought the tickets...and within days was in love. 

Here's the thing...I was born an outsider. I was born in Germany to American parents, I was raised in Japan with blonde hair and blue eyes and an intermediate grasp of the language. I lived overseas longer than I lived in my legal country. I have always been a foreigner everywhere I go, including the US...and if I have to be a gaijin, foreigner, extranjera... I might as well be allowed to choose a place where that doesn't bother me. 

And it doesn't bother me here. 

I finally feel like I have a home, and I refuse to walk away from that feeling. 

Compré mis boletos y me enamoré en unos días. 

Fíjate que siempre he estado una "extranjera." Nací una extranjera. Nací en Alemania a papás de los EEUU, crecí en Japón con cabello rubio y ojos claros y con una comprensión intermedia del idioma. Viví afuera de los EEUU más años que viví en el país. Siempre he estado una extranjera en todas partes, incluso mi ''propio''país...y si tengo que ser un ''gaijin'' o ''foreigner'' or ''extranjera''...¿por qué no elijo el lugar por mi misma? 

Y aquí no me molesta que soy diferente, que soy extranjera, güera, gaijin... porque finalmente me siento como si tuviera un hogar, y me niego rechazar este sentimiento.  

So here comes question #2: Don't you miss your family?

The quick and easy answer is: yes, of course. 

But in the time I've lived overseas, or on the opposite side of the country, I've learned that my family is only ever 12 - 15 hours away (with flights and layover times...25ish hours by vehicle). I grew up understanding that families can love each other without living next door to one another. 

Llegamos a pregunta #2: ¿Extrañas a tu familia?

La respuesta corta es: claro que sí....

...pero en el tiempo que he vivido ''afuera'' o lejos, pero en el mismo país, he aprendido que mi familia siempre está cerca... 12 - 15 horas por avión, o 25 horas por coche. Crecí con el entendimiento de que families pueden querer y apoyar uno a otro sin estar vecinos.  

I do occasionally lament that I can't attend every school function my siblings have, but at the same time they know - without a doubt - that there is no one in this world who loves them more than I do...and that I will easily shake the sun out of the sky to make the important things happen. 

A veces me lamento el hecho de que no había podido asistir cada evento de las vidas de mis hermanitos, pero al mismo tiempo saben que - sin duda - no hay nadie en este mundo que los quiere más que yo, y que fácilmente quitaría al sol del cielo para hacer posible las cosas importantes.  

Plus, living overseas gives my family the opportunity to travel somewhere new and do something exciting. :) 

Además, vivir en otro país presenta a mi familia con la oportunidad para viajar a un lugar nuevo, y hacer algo diferente. 

The hard and dirty truth is this: I'm really happy. 

Oaxaca makes me happy. 

My life here is a happy one. 

My family is happy that I am happy. 

So I suppose, now, I turn the tables and ask you the same questions...

1.) Why are you where you are?

2.)  How does your family factor in the equation?

La verdad - simple y clara es: Estoy muy feliz. 

Estar en Oaxaca me hace feliz. 

Mi vida aquí en una vida feliz. 

Mi familia está feliz porque estoy feliz. 

Ahora, te pregunto las mismas cosas....

1.) ¿Por qué estás donde estás?

2.) ¿Como afecta esto tu familia? 

Hundred. Dollah. Bills.

Picture this:

You are in Billings, Montana. You have a $50 bill in your wallet, and you want some Mountain Dew. That Mountain Dew costs $2.50 (because you're buying it in a bottle, not in a super sized cup). You drive your unnecessarily large truck to the nearest gas station, pick out your bottle, and walk up to the cash register.

The cashier says, "That'll be $2.50." You open your wallet, and hand him a $50 bill.
He gives you $47.50 in change. You say, "Hey, thanks. Have a good one." He nods, and smiles, and says, "See ya around."

And you continue with your life.

Imagínate esto:

Estás en Billings, Montana. Tienes sed, y quieres un Mountain Dew. También tienes USD$50.00 en tu bolsillo. Un Mountain Dew tiene un precio de US$2.50 (porque vas a comprar una botella, no una copa super grande como normal). Manejas tu camioneta enorme al estación de gas, eliges tu botella, y estás lista para pagar. 

El cajero te dice, "Va a costar US$2.50." Abres tu cartera, y le das US$50.00 en efectivo. 
Te da US$47.50 de cambio, se sonríe y te dice, "Gracias. Nos vemos."

Sigues viviendo tu vida. 

Now picture this:

You are in Oaxaca, Oaxaca. You have a 500 peso bill in your pocket (about US$45.00), and you want to eat lunch at your favorite restaurant, with a fixed price menu of 100 pesos. You walk to the restaurant, sit down, eat the delicious food, and then ask for the bill.

You pull a 500 bill out of your pocket, and put it in the check holder. The waiter takes it.
Then he brings it back and asks if you have change. Two things can happen at this point:

1.) You dig through all of your pockets and bags looking for change. You come upon a 200 peso bill. The waiter asks again if you're sure you don't have exact change. You say you're sure. He takes your 200 pesos, but everyone knows he's slightly annoyed.

2.) You don't have change. You begin to apologize profusely. You thought you had 100 pesos. You were sure. The waiter goes to the kitchen, they don't have change. The waiter asks people in the restaurant if they can break 500 pesos. You hang your head in a shame. They say no (because change for 500 pesos does not exist). Finally, the waiter leaves the restaurant and goes to a neighboring store where someone breaks the 500 peso bill.

Ahora, imagínate esto:

Estás en Oaxaca. Tienes 500 pesos en tu cartera y quieres comer en tu restaurante favorito, con un menú diario de 100 pesos. Caminas al restaurent, te sientas, y comes bien. Le pides al mesero la cuenta, y cuando llegue, pongas 500 de efectivo adentro. El mesero lo lleva....y regresa para preguntarte si tienes cambio. 

Ahora, 2 cosas pueden pasar:

1.) Empiezas buscar frenéticamente en todos tus bolsillos, tu mochila, etc. Encuentres 200 pesos. El mesero te pregunta otra vez si no tienes cambio exacto. Le dices que no, estás seguro que no tienes cambio exacto y el mesero se va con un poco de frustración en su cara. 

2.) No tienes cambio. No sabes cómo pasó esto. Estabas seguro que tenía cambio contigo, pensaste que había 100 pesos en tu cartera. Tienes vergüenza y no puedes mirar a nadie en la cara. El mesero empieza a preguntar a la gente en el restaurante si tienen cambio. Por supuesto, nadie lo tiene. Finalmente, el mesero se va a otra empresa y regresa con tu cambio. 

I have discovered that there are really only 3 ways you can change out 500 pesos:
1.) Have a really good relationship with someone who owns a high traffic business, and be careful not to abuse the 500 peso bill breaking more than 2x a month.
2.) Have a local bank account, and stand in the epically long lines at the bank in hopes that the cashier will break your money.
3.) Buy something that costs more than 300 pesos (but then you're spending a lot of money...to get change...)

Every time I see people running between businesses with bills in their hands, I laugh.
I get it.
It is the game of the 500 peso bill.
A dance. A puzzle. A joke.

He descubierto que realmente solo hay 3 maneras en que puedes recibir cambio de 500 pesos:

1.) Tienes que tener un buen amigo que tiene una empresa con muchos clientes. 
2.) Tienes que tener una cuenta de banco aquí, y tener paciencia con las filas, y también suerte de que el cajero vaya a cambiar tu dinero. 
3.) Tienes que comprar algo que cuesta más que 300 pesos (pero vas a perder 300 pesos, y solo vas a tener ~200 de cambio). 

Cada vez que veo a una persona correr entre negocios, con la esperanza de cambiar dinero, tengo que reírme. 
De repente, lo entiendo. 
Es el juego de los 500.
Es un baile. Un rompecabeza. Una broma. 

And I find that there are no words that describe, in full detail, the look on someones face when you pull out a 500 bill...or when someone walks into a room and asks if someone has change for 500.

It is a pained and exasperated expression which translates roughly to: sorry, I can't help...but boy, do I feel your pain.

If it were up to me, the 500 peso bill would be an ancient artifact.
It is not needed.
It is unwanted.
It has no admirers.

And now, for a musical accompaniment...

Y no hay palabras para explicar la mirada en la cara de alguien cuando otra persona entra el cuarto y pregunta, "alguien tiene cambio de 500?"

Es una mirada que dice algo entre, "Claro que no, pero entiendo muy bien tu posición."

Si podría eliminar el billete de 500, lo haría. 
No es querido. 
No es necesario. 
No tiene ningún amigo ni admirador. 

y ahora...para una canción del tema... 

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 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?

Dictators.

It was a new day; it was a sun-rise over mountains, car fumes in the lungs, and a dirty blonde street dog.
Era un nuevo día; era un amanecer sobre las montañas, el humo de los coches en los pulmones, y una perrita rubia y sucia. 

I was told to walk with purpose, to cross at the corner with as many people as possible. To avoid the small park at night, and not to eat anything spicy or too rich for at least 5 more days.
Me dijeron que caminar con un propósito, y cruzar en la esquina con la otra gente...evitar el parque más pequeño en la noche, y no comer algo picante o rico por lo menos 5 días más.  

Give yourself time to adjust.
Necesitas tiempo para ajustar.

Adjustments. It seems that adjusting just what we do, isn’t it? We adjust to new climates, new cultures, new people, new jobs. All the time we’re just shifting in our own skins, trying to find the most comfortable position.

Los ajustes. Parece que el ajuste es lo que hacemos, no? Ajustamos a nuevos climas, nuevas culturas, nueva gente, nuevos trabajos. Todo el tiempo estamos moviendo debajo de nuestros propios pieles, buscando la posición más confortable. 

It was a new week; it was another language, a bitter drink, and dancing until the early hours of the morning. We represented – at some points – 8 different nations. We spoke of jobs and journeys and one by one, and in various ways, we slowly admitted we were running. Running from oppressive things and closed minded thinking, towards being alive but being afraid. If you don’t adjust in the expected ways, then you really don’t know what is supposed to happen next.

Era una nueva semana; era otro idioma, una bebida amarga, y bailando hasta la madrugada. Representábamos (a veces) 8 países distintos. Hablábamos de trabajos y aventuras y uno por uno admitimos que corríamos...de cosas opresivas, de mentes cerradas, hacia la esperanza de vivir vidas completas...pero con miedo. Si no ajustas a la vida como la mayoría de la gente del mundo, no puedes saber lo que va a seguir. 

And so we created our own realities, we chose the next chapter in the book.
We lived by the dictates of our own consciousness.
Por eso, estábamos construyendo nuestras propias realidades. Elegimos el proximo capitulo del libro. Estábamos viviendo por los dictados de nuestras propias conciencias.

Sometimes, a collective conscious. Other times, we were 8 nations living individually side-by-side. In camionetas. In the streets. On beaches.
A veces con una conciencia colectiva. Otras veces, estábamos 8 naciones viviendo vidas individuales pero lado a lado. En las playas. En las camionetas. En las calles. 
 
It was a new perspective; it was remembering how – who – I was before I forgot.
It was a regeneration.
It was a right decision.
It was all smiles, human contact, and summer skin.

I was told to walk with purpose – and I found one.

Era una nueva perspectiva; era la memoria de cómo - quién - era antes de que se me olvidó.
Era una regeneración.
Era la decisión correcta.
Era sonrisas, contacto humano, y piel de verano.
Me dijeron que caminar con un propósito...y lo encontré. 

Ring Like Silver, Ring Like Gold - Ring Out Those Bells.

At the very beginning of 2013 I decided to write out a "List of Champions" instead of doing a "New Years Resolution." I figured that a list of champions would give me goals to strive for, ways to better myself, ways to reconstruct my reality. "Be the change..." ya know?

I'm so glad I did that.

In the last year, my life has completely changed. Completely. The way I understand myself and others has changed. The way I experience the world around me has changed.

And I can really say I'm proud of myself for allowing me to grow into this person I am (becoming).

Al principio del año (2013) había decidido escribir "una lista de campeones" en lugar de una "resolución del año nuevo." Pensaba que una lista de campeones me daría cosas para intentar a alcanzar - maneras para mejorarme, para reconstruir mi realidad. "Hacer el cambio..." sabes?

Y estoy muy muy alegre que lo hizo. 

Durante el año, mi vida ha cambiado completamente. Completamente. La manera en que entiendo mí misma, y cómo pienso sobre la gente y el mundo - cómo interactúo con el mundo - ha cambiado. 

Y puedo decir que me siento orgullosa de mí misma para permitir este crecimiento. 

I think as adults we become so comfortable in our thought processes, in the ways that "we are." We don't want our thoughts or belief systems challenged. We don't want to venture to unknown and uncomfortable places. We are who we are, and we don't want to change.

I'm not okay with that. That's part of the reason why I'm making sure that 2013 was just the very strange first chapter to hopefully a fully complete, challenging, and even stranger life.

Push my boundaries. And I'll be sure to return the favor.

Pienso que, como adultos, estamos cómodos en nuestros procesos de pensamientos - en las maneras "somos." No queremos cambiar o desafiar nuestros pensamientos o sistemas de creencia. No queremos explorar cosas nuevas o lugares incómodos. Somos quien somos, y no queremos cambiar.

No me gusta esta idea. Y, por esta razón, estoy haciendo segura que 2013 esta el primer capitulo (capitulo extraño) para una vida - mi vida - compleja, estimulante, y aún más extraña. 

Me desafías - y estaré segura para devolver el favor. 

I want to say so much more about what I've experienced this year, but I feel like it's going to be too much. I'll share one little way I've changed, and maybe every week I'll share a little more and we'll see where we end up.

This year, I've become much more transparent. Maybe it's a culmination of everything that has happened in the last few years, or maybe it's the great experiences I had during this one - but I'm ready for the world to hear and see me. I'm still kind of timid, but I'm no longer willing to backdown or have my voice run-over.

I recognize that my thoughts and feelings are important and relevant. Even as a woman. Even as a daughter. Even as whatever thing you want to make me.

And, like always, I will constantly remind you that yours are too.
For example, this year I was transparent about no longer adhering to or believing in the church I was born and raised in. It was scary.

Discomfort results in growth. I'm going to be a freakin' garden. :)

Quiero decir mucho más sobre lo que he experimentado - pero, siento como va a ser demasiado. Compartiré una manera pequeña en que he cambiado ...y quizá cada mañana vaya compartir un poco más y...vamos a ver donde terminamos.

Este año, me he convertido más transparente. Quizá sea una culminación de todas las cosas que han ocurrido durante los últimos 2 o 3 años, o quizá sea las experiencias excelentes he tenido durante 2013, pero estoy lista para el mundo verme y escucharme. Todavía estoy un poco tímida pero ya no puedo tolerar ser ignorada. 

Reconozco que mis pensamientos y sentimientos son importantes y relevantes - incluso como una mujer - incluso como una hija - incluso como cualquier cosa me quieras poner. 

Y, como siempre, voy a recordarte - constantemente - que los tuyos estén importantes y pertinentes también.  

Por ejemplo, este año yo estaba abierta sobre el hecho que ya no creo en la iglesia de mi infancia y juventud. Tenía mucho miedo. 

Pero, la incomodidad resulta en el crecimiento. Y por lo tanto voy a ser un jardín :) 

Please wait patiently as I come up with my 2014 list of champions.
And don't worry, more stories are on the horizon.

Por favor, espérame mientras pienso en mi nueva lista de campeones. 
Y no te preocupes - más historias están en el horizonte.

Orange.

I write. It's how I learn, it's how I communicate, it's how I process basically everything occurring in the world around me.

Escribo. Es la manera en que aprendo, es como comunico - es la manera en que puedo procesar lo que ocurre en el mundo.

And I don't want to forget everything I've learned (in regards to Spanish) and I want to take it further - eventually.  So I'm trying to solidify and maintain everything I know in preparation for taking "forward" steps.

Y...no quiero olvidar todo lo que aprendí (en relación a español) y me gustaría avanzar mi comprensión. Entonces, tengo la intención asegurar y mantener todo lo que sé en preparación para avanzar.

So, here I am - with notes in hand - and working out exercises for myself.
Obviously. I'm a teacher. What else would I do?

Aquí estoy, con las notas en mano, y ejercicios para hacer. Obviamente. Soy una maestra. Cual otra cosa haría? 

So, you may not know what you're looking at - but it's all verb tenses and phrases and words to remember...artfully put together in a practical and applicable way. Some of my students do really well with drawing comics and applying their words in that way, some do well in essays, other prefer spoken presentations, etc. Me? Poems. Stories. Every time.

Every. Time.

Quizá no entenderás lo que ves...pero todos son verbos y frases y palabras para recordar - conectados en una manera aplicable y practicable a mí. Algunas de mis alumnas tener éxito con comics - o con essays (ensayos?) - y otras prefieren hablar o dar presentaciones. Pero yo? Poemas. Historias. Cada vez.

Cada.Vez.

----

Camino con cuidado
y miro a donde voy -
para evitar el inesperado;
las grietas, los hoyos, y tú.

Pero con ojos azules y
completamente abiertos
te permití bajo pie
bajo mi piel
resbalé en tus palabras y
me caí dentro de tu alma.

O, quizá tiré la tuya dentro de mí.
Quién sabe?
Quién sabrá?

Huello ligeramente
alrededor el lugar
donde guardas los latidos de tu corazón
y pregunto a mí misma
- en voz alta, como Alicia -
cómo me caí esta caída lenta...
lentamente...
lentamente...?

Y por qué no me importa si nunca regreso al lugar donde estaba antes?

Eres la pastilla que hace que crezca, y
tienes todo el poder de hacerme sentirme pequeña
pero
no puedo imaginar que realmente lo usarías
porque haces que
pueda ver las estrellas con ojos diferentes y
tenga confianza y
me sienta importante a alguien en algún manera.

A tí, en la manera tuya.

Y si me pones el color azul,
te pongo el color naranja -
pero una naranja cálido, como la que puedes ver en los minutos antes la puesta del sol
porque eres mis minutos antes la puesta del sol,
porque eres todos los minutos,
porque eres el temblor anaranjado y cálido de la estrella Betelgeuse
porque cuando rías, está cálida
porque tus manos son cálidos
porque tus ojos cuando ven míos - cálidos, en llamas -
llamas anaranjadas.

Supongo que durante mi camino, nunca estaba mirando por llamas.

Las Cosas que Llevamos - The Things We Carry

This little poem came out of my mind while trying to wrap my head around the multiple uses of the verb "llevar." You'll see time and again various forms of "llevar" but they don't all mean the same thing. Llevar expresses many ideas. My best attempt at a translation in English is below the original (which I'm sure is riddled with a million mistakes).

Cada persona lleva algo; llevamos nuestros nombres

y muchas mujeres llevan bien con los hombres

y llevamos cabello, corto o largo
y la mayoría de gente llevan sus manos
y en nuestros bolsas

llevamos las llaves –

o si prefieres, llevas tus claves

Llevo mi corazón en mi pecho, a menos que
quiero llevar mi corazón en mi manga.
Y, todo el tiempo, llevas mi corazón cualquier lugar vayas

Llevo mis libros a clase,

y tú? Llevas los marcadores.
Esperamos que estas cosas va a llevar a algún forma de educación,

pero muchas veces, me llevo un ataque de pánico -

cada vez, siempre llevas mis berrinches con paciencia y con cuidado.

A veces, llevamos en nuestros brazos al uno del otro
y también otras nos llevan en sus coches cuando

no queremos –

no podemos –
caminar.

Y los músicos y los soldados llevan en paso con el ritmo
Y los maestros llevan a sus clases
Y los modelos llevan los estilos nuevos;
llevan camino de ser famosos.
A propósito, este año se lleva el azul.

Y cada carretera lleva a algún lugar
pero la opción es tuya la cual llevas.

Es un hecho de la vida que cada persona lleva algo;

y la cosa importante nunca fue las cosas – no -
sobre todo, la importante es
cuales son las formas en que les llevamos?

-----
Ok. In English, the verbs are going to change (you won't get that constant "llevar" - but that will help illustrate exactly how complicated this verb is). And not even a little bit will rhyme. 

Every person carries something; we carry our names
and many women get on well with men,
and we all have hair, short or long 

and the majority of people have their hands, 

and in our pockets we carry our keys 

or, if you prefer, you carry your keys *two different ways of saying keys in Spanish

And I carry my heart in my chest, unless

I want to carry my heart on my sleeve, 

and always you carry it any which place you go.

I bring my books to class, 

and you? You bring the markers. 

We hope that things things will bring about some form of education, 

but most times I'm brought to a panic attack

and each time, you handle my fits with patience and care.

And sometimes, we take one another into our arms

and other times, others take us where we need to go

when we don't want to, 

or are unable to walk. 

And musicians and soldiers march to the beat, 

and teachers run their classes, 

and models wear the newest styles on the walk to fame;

by the way, blue is in season this year. 

And every road leads somewhere, 

but the choice is yours which way you go. 

It's a fact of life that everyone carries something; 

but the important "thing" never was about "things."

No - above all, the most important thing is 

what are the ways in which we carry them?

Forward - Adelante

It took five weeks, but finally a bug caught me. However, I can proudly say that this bug is something entirely native to me, and is not caused by external factors.

That makes me sound pregnant. I'm not pregnant. Not even close. Sorry to disappoint you.

The truth is I've got some funny things with my blood and stuff, and my own body often makes itself sick. That's what I'm dealing with today. My body is having a war with itself. All I can do is lay in bed while it throws a fit.

But, tomorrow will be better. Because I'm being a good girl.

Tomó 5 semanas, pero una enfermedad finalmente me alcanzó. Sin embargo, puedo decir con orgullo que esa enfermedad es algo nativo a mi, y la causa no es algo externo.

Y no, no, no - no estoy embarazada, ni siquiera cerca. Lo siento. 

La verdad es que tengo problemas extrañas con mi sangre y en la salud en general, y frecuentemente mi cuerpo me hace enferme - por lo tanto, estoy enferma hoy. Mi cuerpo está teniendo una guerra con sí mismo. Todo puedo hacer es descansar mientras mi cuerpo hace un berrinche. 

Pero mañana estará mejor, porque todo el día estoy descansando.  

I bought my return ticket back to the US. I'm sad to know my time in the happiest place on Earth is coming to an end (for now), but there are things back in Minneapolis that I need to do. There are little human-students who need butt-kicking. There are doctors appointments that need to be made. There is a cute little baby who has been waiting his whole life for his Auntie Nikki to hold him (that's right, Moses, I'm talking about you - you little poncho wearing bandit!).

I don't like thinking about leaving. There are things and people here, too. You know?

Yo compré mi boleto de avion para regresar a los EEUU. Estoy triste saber que mi tiempo aquí en la lugar más alegre en todo el mundo va a terminar (por ahora), pero hay cosas en Minneapolis que necesito hacer. Hay niños que me necesitan. Hay citas medicás que necesito hacer. Hay un lindo bebé que ha esperado toda su vida de su Auntie Nikki para sostenerlo (es cierto, Moses, estoy hablando de ti, tu pequeño bandido que lleva un poncho)!

No me gusta pensar en volver a los EEUU. Hay cosas y gente aquí, también. Sabes?

I should tell you about what I've been doing recently. I stopped writing every day, because I've been here so long that most things are routine. I have a life, and writing about the same cobbled stones can get boring for some people.

Not for me. I love those cobbled stones. But for you, maybe.

Over the weekend, I took Matt to Monte Alban and Hierve el Agua (and Tlocolula). Matt had fun with the collective-taxi experience, and riding in the back of a truck up the side of a mountain. That's always fun for everyone. Seriously. The view from the back of that truck is priceless.

We were riding in it with some people who bought some baby chicks to raise. They kept trying to sleep, but then we'd hit a bump and they'd all start chirping. They were very cute.

Debo decirte sobre las cosas yo he hecho en los días pasadas. Yo paré escribir todos los días porque yo he habido aquí un largo tiempo, y la mayoría de las cosas hago aquí son rutinas. Tengo me vida aquí, y para escribir sobre las mismas piedras en las calles es algo aburrido para algunas personas.

Para mi, no. Me encanta estas piedras de las calles. Pero, para ti? Quizá no.

Durante el fin de semana, yo tomé a Matt a Monte Alban y HiervelAgua (y Tlocolula). Matt tenía un buen tiempo en los colectivos, y durante el paseo en la camioneta. La camioneta cada vez es divertida. En serio. Y la vista desde la camioneta es sin precio. 

Estabamos en la camioneta con gente que compraron...pollitos para crecer. Los pollitos querían dormir pero los hoyos en la carretera lo hacían difícil. Monos pollitos!

Oh, but before all that, I was stopped in Llano Park by some middle school students who were interviewing people for a school project about the pros and cons of internet on cell phones. This interview was in Spanish.

Ok, returning to Hierve...Hierve is easily one of my favorite places I've ever been on the Earth. It's indescribably beautiful. Like many things, it's a feeling. Not a word.

In other news, Matt had his first taste of Mezcal up there on that mountain.
And, on our way down the mountain, I made friends with the driver of the truck, and he gave me some recommendations for bands. Success is defined by expanding your database of music.

Oh - pero antes de todas estas cosas - algunos estudiantes me pararon en el parque llano. Estaban haciendo entrevistas con gente para un proyecto de clase sobre los pros y cons de internet en cell phones. Y, la entrevista fue en español.

Okay, Hierve! Hierve es simplemente uno de mis favoritos lugares en todo la tierra. Este lugar es hermoso más allá de descripción. Como muchas cosas, es un sentimiento - no una palabra. 

En otras noticias, Matt tuvo su primer mezcal en Hierve. Y, cuando regresar a Mitla, conocí el conductor de la camioneta - y el me die algunas recomendaciones para música. Alegría es descubrir música nueva.

After too much sun and fun, we went to the big sunday mercado. It's an experience everyone should have if they plan to visit Oaxaca. You can buy all sorts of great (and not so great) things.

But, in spite of all the fun things we did this weekend, the best thing that happened is this: the city has come back to life. I almost cried when I saw the vendors in the street. I have never been so happy to balloons and children playing in a church square in all my life.

It seemed like the whole city was in the Zocalo last night, celebrating the removal of the harlequin mask. I can't help but wonder if I've embedded too much of my identity within this city. Something about being here has allowed me a freedom I've never given myself. In a figurative way, I've done some unmasking of myself.

Like the city, I just want to be loved for what's raw and real about me. Even the controversial, unsightly aspects of me.

Después de demasiado diversión y sol, fuimos al mercado. Pienso que cada persona que visita a Oaxaca necesita visitar a Tlacolula. Puedes comprar un gran variedad de cosas buenas (y cosas no tan buenas).

Pero, a pesar de todas las cosas interesantes Matt y yo hicimos durante el fin de semana, lo mejor que ocurrió fue esto: la ciudad ha regresado a la vida. Casi lloré cuando vi los vendedores en las calles. Nunca antes había sentido tan alegre para ver niños y globos y niños con globos en cualquier lugar en toda mi vida.

Parecía que toda la gente de Oaxaca fueran en el zocalo anoche para celebrar. Es imposible impedirme preguntar si yo he puesto demasiada de mí misma y identidad dentro de la ciudad. Algo sobre estar aquí ha permitido una liberación que nunca he dado mí misma. En una manera figurativa, supongo que quité una máscara también. 

Como la ciudad, estoy listo para recibir amor para las cosas real y cruda sobre mi - incluyendo las cosas controvertidas o feas.  

Please Sir, I'd Like Some More.

You know at the end of the day, when you are laying in bed and you think, "Dang. Today was the best day of my life."....?

No. It wasn't. Today was the best day of my life. Or at least the most incredible day.

I woke up in a fever. My stomach hurt, my body hurt. But as I was laying in bed I thought, "Nikki. It'd be better to die trying to see Oaxaca than to waste your time here laying in bed." So I got up, took some meds, and went on my merry way.

Cordelia, Francis and I met up at the school. From there, we walked to the beisbol stadium where all the cabs pick you up for different places. We hopped in a cab to Tlacoloula and thus the adventure began!

Tlacoloula is home to a huge market full of all sorts of livestock, people, fruit, things, clothes, games, drinks, whatever you can imagine. We saw everything from bananas and lychee, to live chickens, to baskets of crickets, and more. We even got to watch a man making chocolate. I took a video.

We encountered a man who was very proud of his mezcal. He had painted the inside of his own store with the history of "the indigenous people." I put that in " " marks because there are different indigenous groups. Not just one. He was very excited to interact with us, and called Cordelia and I beautiful. He wanted pictures with us as well.

So, of course, we took pictures with the mezcal man.

After we tired ourselves out of this amazing, large, phenomenal, one-of-a-kind market full of colors and sounds, we decided to make way for a cab to Mitla (en route to Hierve el Agua). But first, I had to use the bathroom. I left my bag with my friends so I wouldn't have to carry it through the large crowd, only to discover that it costs 3 pesos to use the bathroom at a bus station...so I looked around helplessly until a man made eye contact with me.

He paid the 3 pesos. I'll be forever grateful. Otherwise, I'd have just wet my pants.

Our cab to Mitla was packed with 3 other people. So, 6 + the drive makes 7. How do all these people fit in cabs? I don't know. But it works. The further we got out of the city, the more obvious it became that we were in Mexico. Or, that we weren't in our home countries. That we were somewhere alive and green and different.

After we got out of the cab in Mitla, we climbed into the bed of a truck to Hierve el Agua. Winding up the side of a mountain in the back of a truck was tossy, turny, bumpy, hilarious, an experience of a lifetime, and oh-my-goodness the views were extraordinary. Never mind that occasionally we looked as though we might fall off the cliff....and never mind that I full on slid from one end of the truck to the other...

It was absolutely mind blowing.

But nowhere near as mind blowing as Hierve el Agua itself. What a phenomenal, living, breathing place. We enjoyed ourselves by swimming in the water, doing yoga on the mountain, and laying in the sun. I am not lying when I say that this is one of the most - in fact, is the most - beautiful place I've ever been in my life thus far.

I appreciate it when life throws gifts like that my way.

We only had two hours there before it was time to trek back down the mountain (this time, we sat in the cab of the truck)....but not before I bought some tortillas to snack on. We enjoyed conversation with a super friendly Argentinian couple (in Spanish, of course) and appreciated the novelty of sharing our road with several herds of cattle, dogs, goats...

We also shared a cab (totaling 6 people) with the Argentinian couple back to Oaxaca (city). They are musicians, and have a performance Wednesday night! Maybe we'll go to it.

We passed the rest of the night at Cordelia's (host family) home. Her host mother's home is a huge mansion with a giant yard. It's old and beautiful and amazing. It has an avocado tree in the back. It has a princess bedroom with a completely round bed. It has marble everything. It was a lovely evening to pass the evening - and, of course, the company was just as wonderful.

And now I lay here, with a strange stitch in my side...and I am considering how fortunate I am to have experienced everything I did today. It's amazing to think that these opportunities and experiences are mine.

That I definitely did yoga on top of a mountain in Mexico, and then laid in the sun.
That I definitely had a full conversation in another language with people I just met.
That I definitely experienced one of the biggest, varying marketplaces ever. That I rode up the side of a mountain in the bed of a truck. That I hung out in an old, amazing home for the evening.

I really wish everyone could have had my day today. I really do.

Benjamin Button

I'm going to go backwards. I'll start with what I did last, and work my way to morning. It's good to change things up I think.

I've just taken a shower.

Francis, Cordelia and I just walked home in the rain. It was a bit chilly, yes, but oddly refreshing. The rain here isn't harsh or aggressive. It's just rain. It's not slanty, like Japan. It's not a downpour, it's not misty and annoying. Just soft, regular rain.

Prior to that, we were in a cafe, but I was feeling quite ill (you know, achy bones and such). Instead of trying to push it and stay out for the night (especially with plans for a long day out tomorrow), getting to our casas seemed like a good plan.

We spent the evening sitting in the Zocalo, people watching. There was a traditional dance competition happening which was fascinating to watch. There are always people selling millions of balloons, scarves, bubbles, flowers, candy and more. Cordelia and I bought memelitas from this cute little family (street vending) and they were so amazingly tasty. And when I say "Cordelia and I bought" them, I mean I had mine paid for by a Mexican man who thought I was beautiful. He wanted to be my tour guide around Mexico.

It was only 10 pesos, but it was 10 pesos I didn't have to pay.

Francis ended up eating elote. So, the three of us with our food just hung out and took some time to recognize how fortunate we are in our own lives. It was a lovely moment. Which we totally deserved because we spent the earlier part of the afternoon at Cafe Brujula, studying our Spanish.

The street artist we met before in the Zocalo (the one from earlier posts) showed up there as well, and we had a little chat. But the majority of the rest of the time was spent practicing, teaching, and speaking Spanish. Francis came up with a clever way to remember when to use "estos, esos, aquellos" and we learned from his audio book that "go go" verbs (tengo) go "ga ga" (tenga) when put into the imperative.

But before all the fun we had practicing our Spanish at the cafe, Francis and I were at the organic market! It's quite small, but definitely awesome. I was able to get just over an 8 oz cup's worth of pomegranate seeds for 10 pesos. To put that into perspective, 20 pesos isn't even 2 dollars - it's closer to $1.50. So I paid about 78 cents.

I also bought an amazing scarf for 80 pesos and 2 little bracelets for 30 pesos. There were a million other things I wanted to buy, too, but decided to wait until next week. I did, however, inquire as to how one might get their hands on a poncho for a certain-about-to-be-born-baby-moses-maurer.

And it's a good thing I ate a hearty breakfast this morning, because I was in full-on Spanish mode at the market. I definitely wouldn't have been able to operate without Martita's miracle enchiladas. This morning, two other women joined me and my host mother for breakfast. They all talked about how the boys their daughters want to marry are usually not very motivated, unemployed, dropouts, etc. In Mexico, you don't get married without the permission of your parents. Paula (host mom) talked about how she'd rejected at least two guys for her daughter.

That's serious business.

Almost as serious as the fact that last night, I dreamt in Spanish. When I woke up this morning, I was definitely super excited about it.

And tonight, I'm super excited for tomorrow. We'll take a cab to Mitla, play there, and then - in the bed of a truck - be carted up to some water falls (Hierve El Agua). Hooray for adventures!!

Jueves.

I'm writing this post before the end of the day because I actually have some time to do it, and I hate rushing things. You know me.

So this morning started like every other morning.

0400 hours - wide awake
0600 hours - the children (or animals? I'm genuinely not sure) next door start screaming - as my host sister says, "they sound almost human."
0720 hours - Yo: "Martita. No voy a comer desayuno hoy. Me duele mi estomago. Necesito descansar un poco mas." ("Martita, I'm not going to eat breakfast today. My stomach hurts. I need to rest a little more.") Martita: "Si? No quieres fruta? Quieres te?" (Yeah? You don't want fruit? Do you want tea?) Yo: "Si, te por favor."
0725 hours - I take my "te" to my room.
0820 hours - I get ready for school
0850 hours - I give my mug to Martita...."Como te sientes? Ayuda el te?" Yo: "Si, si, gracias." Martita: "Quieres fruta? Platanos? Puedes tener dos!" Yo: "Okay! Gracias, gracias. Adios!"
0900 hours - Arrive to class.

Class is always really interesting. We end up talking about really random stuff, and then Herman (el maestro) finds ways to fit in a learning objective. So this morning, he asked how we were all feeling. Generally, we were all feeling quite tired/sick. He asked me specifically why I was tired, so I told him how we could hear the music from a huge concert up in the stadium (that didn't end until about 1).

Apparently, this stadium is called El Auditorio Guelaguetza and was built specifically for the guelaguetza. The guelguetza is an event that "showcases" the indigenous cultures - there is food, dancing, music. It used to be free, but now that foreigners use it at a tourist destination, they charge a price to enter. Only those who can afford to are allowed to appreciate indigenous culture, I guess. -_-

Then, we talked about about mezcal (an alcoholic beverage specific to the area). You can buy it at the bar, you can buy it at a mezcaleria, you can buy it in a bottle from a guy off the street (if you know what you're doing). It can come with a worm in it, it can come without a worm in it. It can be smoky or it can be more like tequila. While talking about mezcal, we learned the difference between "que" y "cual" - and then moved onto other exercises to solidify it.

I, and I'm very proud of myself, already knew the difference. (That doesn't mean I don't sometimes mess it up, though). In fact, today was the first day of my classes where I really opened up and just spoke Spanish freely.

I guess I'm getting there. :)

After class, I walked home with Francis. He wanted to go to the store to buy a notebook, first. So we did that. Then I came home, pet Pirata, went upstairs, looked at Facebook, and went back downstairs for lunch.

Martita (and my host mother Paula) are the best. Martita made two types of soup (perfect for a sad stomach!!) - a broccoli, cilantro soup and a chayote, tomato, and poblano soup. With it we ate tortillas that a guy from the neighborhood sells. About halfway through lunch, Paula showed up with - wait for it - a fresh guayaba (guava) for me!!! She remembered how much I liked the first one, and bought me another just for the helluvit. We talked a little bit about mezcal (I mentioned a discussion we had in class about worms - gusanos - in the mezcal) and local laundromats.

Then she told me to go upstairs and rest! So I did. And now I'm here, and I happen to know that Pirata was in my room because he left a perfect pawprint on my bed.

So, what's next for my day?
Well - at 4 I have my last salsa class. After that, a group of us are supposedly going out to a salsa bar as a goodbye party for Britt, who is leaving tomorrow. We'll see how long I last, though. Ideally, I'll be home early.

Sick, tired girls don't get to stay out late. I guess you'll find out tomorrow whether or not I make the right decision.

The United Nations

I think this post will be a little shorter, because it's midnight and I've just gotten home (and need to sleep)!

This morning started - yet again - with "Martita, me duele un poco mi estomago." Bananas for breakfast for me! My stomach hurt until about 11 - at which point I became annoyingly hungry. I waited and waited for 2:15 to roll around...

and then I got to eat delicious mole negro con papas and a little salad, y mas bananas (platanos). After that, it was off to intercambio where I learned 3 words in Zapoteca (an indigenous language here). And, apparently I have a really good Zapoteca accent. Here are the words:

Tortillas = get
Water = niz (sounds like niece)
Eye = lua

After intercambio was salsa, and after salsa was wandering around with my friends. We went to a really pricey place with a rooftop view, and then a group of us went to a taqueria. The experience at the taqueria was really strange.

When we got there, it was kind of busy. We put in our orders and waited and waited. A table was served before us, then a few of us were served, then another table. Then the rest of us. It was really frustrating because we were there for almost 2 hours. It took an unnecessarily long time, and we were a bit angry.

We had been patient and polite. We had ordered in Spanish. Why were they treating us like we weren't important?

It was a little weird. The food was good, though. I doubt we'll go again, simply based on the service.

After that, we found ourselves at Barracuda. The boys wanted to take advantage of a 3 beers/50 pesos deal. At the bar, we realized that each of us was from a different country (England, USA, Australia, Germany - and the waitress was from Spain). We appreciated how uncommon that situation was, and at the end we got a picture.

I think it's really up to Francis to post it.

Ultimately, it was another successful day in Oaxaca. Every day that I'm here is another day that I'm certain I'll never be able to leave. 

And on the Third Day....

Today started a little like this:
"Martita, my stomach hurts. Would it be okay if I just eat fruit for breakfast?"

I had a lovely fruit cup, and some fried bananas. Even that was a bit much, but I couldn't reject it...so I just ate it. And, as usual, the conversation around the breakfast table was really interesting. We talked about the US government shutdown as well as the Mexican president. My host father talked about corruption and then made a comment about certain government workers - and how you can't trust people who work for the state. His words were something like "If you are a police man, you are the president."

Bam.

Then, I made my way to school. I ran into Francis on the street, so we walked together and then - obviously - went to our separate classes. In my class, we talked about command forms and past tense. That's where I really struggle. Using that past tense. No one ever forces me to use it, and so I just don't use it.

I really, really need to use it!

Then, I returned back to mi casa to find a huge lunch (of course) de arroz, eggplant soup and a plate of guayabas (guavas). I had never had a fresh guava until today...and I have to say it's my new favorite fruit. I could eat guava all day long!

In fact, I ate one while walking back to school for my intercambio. Intercambio is basically a language exchange. I'm paired up with a 26 year old dentist named Luz. She's really lovely. Basically, we talk a lot about random things and correct each others grammar.  It's only for an hour. Today was kind of awkward.

I hope things get more interesting.

Anyway...despues de intercambio was the salsa class. That class is so much fun, and it's really good exercise dancing for 2 hours. A few times, Francis and Marc showed up how to do more pop&lock type dancing, and at the very end of class the salsa teacher showed us some fancy footwork. We had a lot of fun, which is great. Sometimes, dancing with people you hardly know can be really awkward and not fun. Everyone in the class is kind and light hearted and patient.

It's hard not to have a good time.

In fact, we were having such a good time that about half of us decided to go down to the Zocalo after class to shoot the breeze, eat, etc. No matter what, the Zocalo always brings with it exciting experiences. We met a really interesting street/portrait artist (originally from LA) who travels around Mexico doing his thing. I drew a picture of him (it was a stick portrait) and then he drew an amazing photo of my friends and I, and just gave it to us.

There was also a stray dog hanging around the table that I loved. I tried to feed it a peanut, but it wasn't interested, even though it was obviously emaciated. I told it that beggars can't be choosers, but it didn't listen.

After our street artist friend left, a beggar (drunk/high?) came 'round and wanted cigarettes and money. He was crying and telling a very sad story. Then, he was asking if I knew any coyotes to smuggle him across the border. I really hope the story he told was a false one, because it was incredibly sad. A tragic story of death and murder and losing everything.

I hope he finds whatever it is he's looking for.

Other highlights of the day:
Host father makes awesome political statements
I eat a guava for the first time in my life

Adjustments:
The exhaust in the air
Eating the biggest meal in the middle of the day

Anyway, I always feel really frustrated at the end of these blogs posts because I feel like I've capture NONE of the essence of my day. I haven't explained the way it feels to stand in the middle of terrifying traffic. I can't capture the Zocalo with words. I can't describe my encounters with people on the street, or explain the conversation with friends/classmates.

It's all beyond words, beyond photos.
But it's the best I can do.

Back to School

Today was the first day of classes.

In true Nikki fashion, I woke up with a nervous stomach and wasn't able to finish my delicious breakfast. Me duele un poquito mi estomago (my stomach hurt a little bit) and I was pretty nervous that I'd caught a bug because of the ice in my drink.

By lunch, I had overcome the achey stomach and devoured arroz y verduras y mole amarillo con tortillas, fruta...and this seed spread. I can't describe it. It's just ground seeds (like amaranth) with chili....but that really doesn't do it justice.

It was really, really good. Everything was good. Everything I eat here is good.

Anyway, mi profesor is Herman. He's really nice and gesticulates a lot so it's easy to get the idea of what he's saying. I'm in an intermediate class, which is exactly where I need to be...and there are about 6 others in there as well. Getting to know people and their stories is always really exciting.

For some, Oaxaca is a stop on a 6 - 9 month journey. For others, it's a 2 week trip to round out their language and experience the culture.

There are even two girls that speak Icelandic! They're not in my class, though. They're still technically beginners.  But, really. How hard can Spanish be when your mother tongue is Icelandic?

Classes empieza (begin) at 9:00 and run until 1:00 pm. Then, it's home for almuerzo. At 3, we do intercambio with a student who is trying to learn English. At 4, we do an activity. This week our options were cooking or salsa dancing. The guy who gave me my orientation strongly suggested the salsa class (and teacher) and so I went with it.

It was a surprisingly good time. Those who know me know that I'm quite picky when it comes to dancing. Class is for two hours, and we learned quite a lot! There are a few more girls than boys, though, so sometimes that was weird. Although, you can kind of take a break whenever you want - so there were times when only half the class was dancing. It's pretty good exercise dancing for 2 hours!

I will probably be a professional by the end of the week.
Just kidding.

After salsa class, everyone kind of hung around and got to know each other. That was pretty fun! Then Francis and I (we live about a block apart) went back to the rooftop restaurant and chilled (literally, it was a bit cold) up there. He ate, I pondered eating but ultimately decided against it.

So, today things were less adventurous because routine has set in. But, learning is being had...and, of course, new experiences. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'm having a new experience.

Highlights of today would be:
-- Fresh papaya at breakfast. I have always hated papaya. I really, really liked this papaya.
-- Chayote in my Mole Amarillo. It's a squash, but it's got the consistency of a potato squash lovechild.
-- Speaking Spanish with less reserve than usual, and in front of peers.
-- The rooftop restaurant at sunset!

Adjustments:
-- Having a set time to wake up in the morning.
-- Eating breakfast at 8:00 on the dot.
-- Eating a huge lunch and little to no dinner.
-- Speaking Spanish.

Oh, and today...my feet are horrendously dirty because I salsa-d without shoes....! Nevertheless, my pedicure looks amazing. In case you were wondering.

And I know you were.

A Feeling, Not a Word.

My morning started with a multivitamin. And breakfast. A breakfast made for the gods...no - by a god(dess).

Seriously. I sat at the table with a glass of orange juice, a plate of sliced bananas and watched as Martita made tortillas filled with squash flowers. She even sauteed the squash and some carrots for me. She plated it beautifully and it tasted like Heaven.

Like. Heaven.

My host father was sitting at the table, and he chuckled over my joy. Food. He complimented Martita, and I stuffed my face. We eventually talked un poco de topics like familia (family), amigos (friends), y cosas mas politicas (more political things). We talked about globalization, cheap products, the destruction of communities...you know. The things people talk about over breakfast.

During that conversation, I found out Renee (host dad) is a retired architect. He built this house about 30 years ago and they've lived in it ever since. The house is amazing, and my windows are soundproof to the point that they keep 90% of the noises out. I've also got this amazing bathtub in my bathroom, but I can't use the tub because there's not enough water to fill it without depleting a huge chunk of the supply.

I also found out he owns a small ranch/orchard with orange and lime trees. Awesome. And that all of his siblings are dead now except for 2. Not as awesome.

Anyway, around 10:00 AM I met up with my british friend. Being my dad's daughter, I had already made us a few plans. We went to an art museum (pictures will be on Facebook) with all sorts of ancient art(ifacts). We enjoyed the exhibits there for a while, and then meandered down the street to a beautiful church with a nice courtyard.

Beautiful doesn't really being to describe it, though. It's strange, because when you're looking at these things - churches, artifacts, fountains - it's more of a feeling than anything else. It's a physical response, an interaction with it.

Adjectives don't work.

After that, we wandered into the Zocalo, and over to Lobo Azul. It's as though this place was built with the knowledge that someday I would visit. The first thing I saw was a side-bag/satchel/purse with a woman in a red bandana stamped with EZLN on it.

I don't need to say much more than that. I think you know, based on this alone, I felt I'd come exactly to the right spot. I ordered memelas and lemonade. The lemonade was hand-squeezed and delivered in a measuring cup!

After that, activities included sitting in a park, me fawning over every dog that walked by, going to the corner store and buying little snacks, dropping our snacks off at our homes, looking for a place with wifi and failing, but finding this really cool rooftop restaurant/cafe.

Seriously. This place is gold. From the roof there is a fantastic view of the city around us. I was so sucked in by this view - and distracted by good conversation - that I really wasn't aware of the ice in my drink until I started drinking it. Mi amigo (my friend) and I decided that it was best that I just fish the ice out, and then we chuckled at the fact that my fingers were probably dirtier than the ice could have been to begin with.

So, I potentially drank tap-water ice. But I kind of doubt it. My host family doesn't drink from the tap, so I assume that most people don't use the tap for that kind of stuff....?

Anyway, we enjoyed it there...but then we moved to the Zocalo for the evening - and we're lucky we did!! Apparently, Sunday nights are really really lively. There was an epic Edward Scissorhands "actor" - he even had a red chair and pretended to cut hair for people! There were these giant people-puppets that just walked through...and other fascinating street performers. There is always music playing in the Zocalo as well - and it felt very surreal.

Everything happening felt other-worldly. Especially this moment where we happened upon another church courtyard (in the Zocalo) and people were tossing these large, air-filled, decorated tubes. But they just kind of float, and they're long and straight. Music was playing, people were everywhere, and these tubes were just kind of floating about.

It sounds silly. It wasn't. It was a feeling, again, I guess.
The closest thing I can compare it to is a scene out of Big Fish. And that's not even right. Or fair.

I feel like I should have more to say, but all we really did was take everything in. We sat. We watched. We chatted. We ate. We listened. We wondered.

Tomorrow, classes begin - routine! Homework! Hopefully, my Spanish (and confidence) improve 10-fold. I'm tired of this plateau I've come up against.

Until tomorrow, folks!