Feeling 25 (Old).

This time last week, I was sitting in the Atlanta airport (freezing to death) and waiting, nervously, to board my flight to Mexico City.

Now I've been here an entire week, and I'm laughing at the fact that I was nervous at all. Oaxaca is an amazing, beautiful place with an amazing, beautiful culture (and subculture(s)). The people are kind, the food is great, the atmosphere is lively.

And there is a way that the clouds hang over the mountains that I've never seen before.

This morning started at 6 am (because apparently that's when I like to wake up) - stomach ache free! I woke up, showered, looked at the hazy mountain and then happily devoured a breakfast of watermelon and chilaquiles.

Every morning with breakfast, I get tea and juice. And, to top it off, Martita cooks the best food in the world. I eat the best food in the world 2x a day!! How lucky am I?

Then I went to school - and in class we watched a film-short called El Viajero which offered an interesting perspective on fear and race.

School was ordinary...lunch was amazing (seriously, I ate so much. Avocado, spinach, potato, celery, more chilaquiles, tortillas).

And now, I'm in my room unsure of where the evening will take me. Last night, however, the evening took me to a mezcal bar with my friends. It had amazing live music, and everyone was dancing cumbia and/or salsa. It was like something you only see in movies. Tiny bar, tons of people, everyone dancing, everyone happy.

But the last few days have been busy. It's like I hit the ground running the moment I stepped off the plane. I think tonight will probably be pretty calm [perhaps people watching in the Zocalo], we're all a little tired.

But it's the best kind of tired to be, by far.

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!

Brave Little Champion

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprising, right? I was terrified.

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

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

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

What the awesome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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