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. 

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. 

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!

Departure Day

It's been a while. I've had a bit of a dry spell, I guess. Everything worth writing about has been to important for a public blog, so it's been somewhere else.

You know. Girls and their diaries.

Anyway - it's time to revive the blog....at least for now. Because I'm going to Mexico. Between traveling alone, as a vegan with celiac disease and a compromised immune system...If I can't come up with something interesting to write, then I should never write again.

Today, right now, I travel. Currently, I'm sitting the freezing Atlanta airport and trying to keep myself entertained. And warm.

I've been up since 0430 hours, and in the last 8 hours I've stood in the longest security line of my life, I've been groped (apparently wearing a sparkly shirt through those body scanners just makes you look like you're sprinkled in shrapnel or something), I've cleaned out a currency exchange office of their entire stock of pesos (luckily, I was the first customer of the day...at 6AM), made an airplane friend, and walked the entire length of the Atlanta airport.

I even had time to squeeze an episode of Grey's Anatomy in. Parting is such sweet sorrow....

By the way, the first flight (MSP - ATL) was so cold, it refrigerated my water. I'm pretty sure between the cold airplane and airport, I'm going to get hypothermia. I'll die before I ever even get to Oaxaca.

Oh, I should talk about that. Why am I going to Oaxaca? Well, there are a few reasons.

1.) The insatiable appetite for travel. I was born into the world. Not into a city, a town, a state. The world. This is my home, and I want to make sure I know my neighbors, brothers, sisters, friends.

2.) Spanish. I've been working on and trying to learn Spanish for a while. I'm a fairly functional reader/writer/listener...but I'm basically mute as far as speaking is concerned. I have never had to step outside my comfort zone. I have never had the Spanish-immersion experience. I'll be at an immersion school in Oaxaca - for 3 weeks - and living with a local family. If that doesn't force me to (as I tell my students) "use my words" then nothing will.

3.) El Dia de Los Muertos. I remember learning about it in school when I was 13. But textbooks and google searches and a 40 minute class period can only take you so far. I've wanted to experience this for myself for quite some time. Nothing makes you feel more like a grown up (and a totally awesome person) than actually crossing some things of your childhood "dreams" list.

There are other reasons, too. But you've got the ones you need :D

I've got another airport to sit in this afternoon. 4.5 hours in Mexico City. Hopefully I pass through customs without issue. Maybe I'll make a few more new friends. Then a quick flight to Oaxaca, a cab ride to my host family and....October.

Octubre.
Prepare for lift-off.

I will never go to Africa.

I feel like I'm already there.
5 people from Minneapolis (originally Somali refugees) were recruited by Al Qaida (right here in the cities) and went to Somalia. 4 blew up in Somalia, 1 decided to blow himself up in Afghanistan.

Also, the guy who lives below me is African. He is loud. He always has his TV blaring loud, and his friends shout. Sometimes the noise doesn't stop until 5 or 6 in the morning.
As soon as I "wake up" around 8:30, I usually try to make as much noise as I humanly can to show him how sucky it is to be woken up when you're trying to sleep.

Sometimes I lay on the floor and shout as loud as I can through his ceiling. Immature? Maybe a little.

-----

Also, I've stopped arguing with idiots. If you want to talk politics with me - they better not be about Obama.