I Need Music

Today, I wore the dress that Oaxaca loves.

You're probably wondering what that means. Well, let me explain it to you - - - I have this dress that I love. It's blue on the bottom, white on the top. It's cute, and hits me about 4 inches above the knee. It's not a flashy dress, or a sexy dress.

It's just a dress.

But it is a magical, compliment, attention seeking dress that would make the ugliest of humans feel like the most beautiful...because without fail, every time I exit the house in this dress, I am overwhelmed by comments and compliments and cat-calls and "hey girls" and more.

It's really freaking weird.

But that's the dress I chose to wear today, and let's be honest...it was good for my self esteem. And I needed a power dress because I definitely slept through my alarm - I definitely had to eat a banana for breakfast while bolting to school - I didn't didn't get to take a shower or put on makeup in the morning .... so I felt gross.

But I looked awesome.

And school was alright, too. I think my favorite part was laying in the sun after class, doing my homework. I like homework. I like the sun. I like being able to study around my teachers so that they can answer my questions.

After I finished my homework, I was able to take myself home and eat something.
Oh how I miss my Martita....she cooks better than I ever will.
After eating (vegetables and tortillas), I took a shower. The water in my new apartment gets warm really fast.

Then, I spent some time on my computer - walked to the school - met up with friends - drank a fruit drink - walked to the Cafe and tried to study - came home.

Now I've been home, vegging out and chatting with folks. Sometimes, it's nice to just do that.

He Hates Metallica

Dad, I don't think you're going to like this story. There's a new game I play when I'm bored now. It's called, "I talk to cops."

For example, when I'm sitting at a cafe or in front of a building waiting to meet up with people...and they're late or something, then I go over to the cops and ask them questions that are ridiculous to answer (like where can I find a place that re-sells....).

Or, like the other day, we walked past these two cops that we always see standing in the same place - seemingly guarding nothing (and obviously being sketchy). And so I went over and asked, "What are you doing here every day, all day?"

The cops are usually nice.
Unless they're hitting on me. Then they're not nice.
But usually, they just go along with the game.
That's why it's fun.

And that's my anecdote for the day. Now for the run-day of Tuesday:

I woke up really early with a bit of a stomach bug (which I've seemingly shaken since).
That didn't deter me from eating my last breakfast at my host-home (Martita, I miss you already). At breakfast, we talked about my future plans in Oaxaca, my plan for the day, if I needed a taxi to transport me from there to my new apartment...

And then I left, feeling a little sad and a little sick, for school. I love school. So I'm glad I went, even though I was feeling sick. I enjoy interacting with the various teachers and getting to know the students from around the world. And, of course, I love to learn and I love to practice.

I am good at being a student.

Nevertheless, my awesome student-ness didn't convince Omar to let me ring the bell at the break. He promised that I'll get to do that tomorrow. He's probably going to forget. But not me!

After school, I went home and checked to make sure I had everything packed. Then I ate lunch and spent time with my host family - we talked about Paula & Renee's kids (who are also named Paula y Renee) and then it was time to go!

I got in the cab, promised to visit the host family, and made my way into the "historic center" to set myself up in my new little apartment. I'm about 5 minutes walk from the Zocalo, which means I'm in the action of the city.

Unfortunately, I'm now 25 minutes walking from the school. I guess that means I'll be getting good exercise.

My new little apartment is really cute. It's only one room + a bathroom, but it's all one person needs. I have a tiny kitchen which allows me to cook some things (like boiling potatoes) and a dresser that fits all my things exactly.

Also, I'm like 3 minutes away from Cafe Brujula. If I'm not a regular there already, then I definitely will be now.

Oh - and I went to the market to buy some groceries. I love el mercado, but it's really overwhelming. People want you to buy their stuff, and so they're pretty aggressive about it. They all push things towards you and yell at you to buy it (they tell you what it is, the price, etc). And, if you touch ANYTHING you instantly get a spiel about the product.

I have been learning not to touch things in the markets.
The next thing I need to learn is to go to bed at a reasonable hour.

That's probably not going to happen tonight. 

I Talk to Cops.

Around here you sometimes hear, "If you want to see how real people live, travel outside of the city."

I have a small issue with this saying. The people in the city, the people who I live with, they are real people.

I think what people mean to say is this: "If you want to see how the majority of people live around here, travel outside the city center."

I agree with this.
If you want to know how the majority of the people live in the state of Oaxaca, you're going to have to travel outside the area in which I currently live to see it.

It's a little bit "backwards." It's opposite from the US. At least close to the city. All the poverty is on the hill, and the wealth is in the valley.

Of course, there is a hill that is ridiculously wealthy.
So maybe I'm wrong.

I'm just trying to describe how things are around here. But, like I say in every post, it's not really possible. You have to see it and know it for yourself.

And on that note - you might be wondering what I did today.
Well, I went to school. And upon entering the school, I found out I was in a new class with a new teacher. And, after crying to Omar for 5 minutes about the injustices of these changes, he convinced me that I am ready for a more advanced level Spanish and assured me that new classmates and a new teacher won't be the end of the world.

I am hoping this is true. I'm apprehensive about the people in my class. I'm apprehensive in general. I miss my teacher.

After class, I dropped off laundry, picked up the keys to my new apartment in Oaxaca, packed my things, and then around 4 I started studying....until 830.

At some point, I met up with Francis (and Thora) at Cafe Brujula and my favorite barista has a cold too! So, maybe he spread his disease to me via money or licking my tea-mug? Or maybe it's coincidence.

Anyway, that's been my day. Tomorrow, I move to my new place.
I'll take photos.

Can't Let a Cold Slow Me Down

I think I've eaten potato chips or french fries every day this week.
The people who sell them on the street must sprinkle crack on them.

Tomorrow, I will not eat potato chips or french fries.
I will not.

And, I think I live here now...because there are two places in the city where people know me (and my preferences) by name. This morning, I walked into Cafe Brujula - I haven't been for like 4 or 5 days - and they all cheered.

I guess they missed me.

And then, this evening, when I walked into the taco place, the chef just looked at me and put 4 fingers in the air (as in "would you like 4 tacos?") and started making them. He even put fresh avocado in them.

I think that means I'm eating too many tacos.
But, a girl's gotta eat.

And I must live here, because I'm not afraid to talk to people in Spanish on the street. And because I know what's a fair price and what's a price gouge. And I bought a book in Spanish. And I have an apartment.

Yep, today, I got my own apartment - right near the Zocalo!

But before I secured a place to live for the next month, I had a super-fun day with Francis and Thora. We walked through a massive book festival in the Zocalo (which I was basically drooling over) and then I bought some potato chips and then we asked about 400 people for directions to a place to catch a bus to Monte Alban.

Eventually, and kind of by accident, we found the place and (after buying water and advil) made our way up there. The road to Monte Alban is ridiculous. It winds and curves and twists and narrows and makes you sick and scared and astonished all at once.

Think knight-bus from Harry Potter meets cat-bus from Totoro, and then put it in Mexico.

I would be terrified to drive here. It's really scary.
A few times, I was certain the vehicle would flip right over the mountain. Right over the edge.

Obviously, that didn't happen.
Instead, we made it up the mountain alive - and walked up a ways further - and passed all the street vendors (maybe we stopped to try on hats) - and made our way to the ticket counter where I tried to convince him to let us in for free (as we are all students at a school in Oaxaca, and students with ID get in free)....but we didn't have ID (because the school doesn't issue IDs).

So we bought our tickets and went in.
There is something about mountain air, and about getting out and away from the noise of the city...

Monte Alban (an archeological site that is said to be one of the earliest cities in Mesoamerica --- about 500 BCish) is a beautiful place. Right now, because of the rainy season (which hasn't totally ended yet), everything is amazing and green. The view from the top of the mountain is - in a really cliche way - absolutely breathtaking.

Or maybe that's just the altitude reminding me I'm far above sea level (after climbing the steepest stairs ever).

And, not surprisingly, I found myself contemplating my own existence as I walked on the proof of others...and Thora and Francis and I engaged in a conversation about the current year/dating system (A.C. and B.C.) and existence and evidence and Stonehenge and Easter Island.

After ooh-ing and aww-ing and dodging one of my many new "friends" (I'm really good at making unsolicited friends wherever we go) we returned to our beloved city, bought french fries, ate tacos, hung out at Billy's house and went our separate ways for the evening.

I viewed an apartment.
Now, I'm contemplating the packing I should be doing...and wondering if I ought to take a taxi to my new place.

Oh, and I'm blowing my nose a lot because I have a terrible cold.
Booooo!

Days of the Dead

This post is a two-in-one, since I didn't get to post yesterday (the festivities required my full attention). So, fasten your seatbelts. I have a lot to say.

It feels like Christmas.

That probably sounds weird, but it's the truth. I woke up yesterday at 6 AM to the garbage man ringing his jingle-bells and made my way to the kitchen (today, too) to a table of bread and orange juice and hot chocolate and tea and water and the magical foods Martita makes. If you know my family, you know Christmas means hot chocolate, orange juice, bread...

It feels like Christmas. Or family. 

It feels important. 

It is important.
In fact, nothing is more important than this. You'll have to figure out why on your own someday.

There is a beauty in the Day of the Dead that I haven't experienced in any capacity in any way near to what I've been feeling and experiencing these last few days. It is inspiring. It is comforting. It's community, tradition. It's perfect.

It's perfect.

The city is buried in millions of flowers. The city is buried in Day of the Dead bread. The city is buried in sugar skulls, chocolate, mezcal and comparsas. Yesterday after classes, Francis and Thora and I went to the panteon here in the city. It was dark and beautiful, and the care and affection of family and friends towards their loved ones was made evident by the elaborate and ample offerings of gifts. This cemetery had a few walking tourist-tours, which made me a little annoyed. But the overall experience was a good one, which left me pumped for the rest of the night.

After the panteon in the centro, my schoolmate-friends and I took cabs from el centro to Xoxo to visit two more panteones (cemeteries). I told my Spanish jokes to the cab driver. He laughed harder than anyone ever has laughed at my jokes.

Anyway, it's very important that there are two panteones in Xoxo. One of them is very old. The other is "new." The experience of the Day of the Dead in the new panteon is a even mix of authentic and commercial. When there are port-a-potties and 15+ street food options, you know that there must be a lot of visitors around.

In the new panteon, people sat and stood everywhere. People lit candles, cried, laughed, danced, sung. There was a band playing on the far right side, and we went to listen. As suddenly as I appeared in the area, I was swept off to dance by an older Honduran man. His accent was really hard to understand, by the way. After that, we encountered a man who invited us to hear about his experience with Day of the Dead. He told us of his baby daughter, of the comfort there is to be found in remembering the lives of others with others. He said that, for as long as he could remember, there had always been vendors in the panteon, selling cotton candy and chips.

He didn't like the commercial aspect of it. It's a beautiful thing to want to experience and adopt the traditions of others, but you shouldn't expect them to alter or be catered to you. You embrace it, or you are best to leave it alone.

I didn't like the commercial aspect either. I didn't like that so many of the spectators of this tradition chose to pre-grame heavily with alcohol. How can you appreciate a tradition, a culture, an experience if you are too drunk to walk in a straight line? Yes. This is a celebration. A celebration you must be present for.

I heard someone say tonight that they were bored last night. That is because you cannot enjoy something you are not present for.

I was far from bored. I was in awe, in shock, in wonder; I was annoyed at the disrespect and lacking of understanding bleeding from the pores of idiots. I was stopped in my tracks and humbled by forgotten graves. By the evidence of class differences even after death. I was encouraged and surprised by peoples willingness to share their stories.

It was much easier to get to hear peoples stories after separating myself from the larger group.
When you are 1 or 2 people, other people will feed you candied pumpkin and ponche. They'll let you use their bathrooms, explain traditions to you, tell you stories...

Learning experiences. Teachable moments.

There was a second panteon. The old one. I much, much preferred it to the other one. There were families there, but there were no vendors. There weren't any tourists because there wasn't a giant party happening. And who wants to watch people practicing their traditions?

That's obviously so boring. ^^^
Let me stop to roll my eyes now.

There is nothing boring about something as beautiful as this. In the old cemetery, a very old chapel had crumbled. The graves are wonky and hodge podge because they've shifted. And no one was forgotten. Every grave had a flower, even if it was only one.

It is obviously a place where everyone gets taken care of. Including the gringa (me). Over these last few days, if people have anything to offer - they offer it. Even to me. The outsider. If their comparsa stops in the street and they have food, their food becomes our food. When the music starts, and the dancing begins, everyone dances. Spectating is allowed, but participation is much more desired and encouraged.

Something I've continuously felt while being here is "taken care of." I'm surrounded by people who take care of one another, and when I'm here "one another" includes me. I have more words I want to say about this, but I don't want to ruin it. I don't want to dissect it.

Today was probably too exciting for my own good. I woke up at 7, ready to eat breakfast and go to school....running on 3.5 hours of sleep. Strangely, I had enough energy to engage in class (I even wrote a poem for someone for their birthday) and to celebrate with the school after class.

And boy what a celebration we had. I can't tell you what happened in full detail because you'd be ashamed and jealous all at once.
I will tell you that we made a video, and you'll probably be able to put the pieces together. 

I had a lot of fun. I danced a lot.
I talked to many people.
I wore a mask.
I climbed a tree with a child.
I laid on a bench. I laid on a ledge. I laid in a tree. I laid on the sidewalk in front of the school.

Eventually, I went home and slept for a little over an hour. But only because I needed more energy for more partying! Luckily, we just had a chill little get together at the hostel where an older Iranian man wrote something beautiful in Farsi on my arm.

Then we went into town to enjoy the festivities in the streets.
Then I came home and failed to put it adequately into words.

Bolsa Chica - Papas Fritas

There are currently 4 other students living here now, in addition to myself. And I'm pretty sure the longer I stay, the worse my Spanish gets.

That's a lie. I'm just hyper aware of all the mistakes I'm making. I need to get over the fear.
That's why I'm staying much longer than anticipated.
Don't freak out.
I'll come back.
Probably.

This morning started with tortillas and potatoes and beans and vegetables. I. Love. Tortillas.
Then, it was off to school where I showed off my new haircut. My teacher called me pesada. Apparently, that means I look tough. After a while, the side of my head got cold....so I covered it with my hair.

Who knew I'd ever have that issue.

Class was - as always - super exciting. Herman is a super fun, engaging teacher. He has to listen to us butcher his language for 4 straight hours. He almost never laughs at us, and he never loses his patience. As a fellow teacher, I know this cannot be easy.

Today, we focused on apenas and acabar. It was especially hard for Marc and I to keep it together as an elderly female class member kept saying "a-penis" instead of "apenas." Apenas basically signifies that you've just finish doing something. So, if I say apenas comí, chances are I have eaten in the last 15 - 30 minutes.

She said a-penis comí (I ate a penis).
Laughing, laughing, laughing.

For whatever reason, I've had a headache for like 3 straight days. It feels like my sinuses have dried out. I find that odd, as it has been raining every day. That being said, it is what it is. It could be the painkillers and the antibiotics.

Because of the painkillers and sinus pain (and the lack of sleep from last night), I basically slept through my last hour of class. That's just how I roll, I guess.

After class, I ran home for lunch and - for the first time since being here - really had a hard time understanding Martita. She was talking, and I wasn't comprehending. I blame the headache.

Then I packed my laptop and took my homework to mask making class. I'm done with my mask, but I like my teachers and figure(d) it's better to study where there are people who can answer my questions. For instance hubo v. habia.

Now I understand. I wouldn't if I hadn't studied near my teachers.
I also wouldn't have been able to call them swear words and command them to do things.
That's what school is like around here.

Afterwards, I had intercambio and worked on translating an article from English to Spanish. After that, Francis, Billy, Thora, Lisa and I walked down to chocolate row and bought some chocolate con almendras.

I'm going to make hot chocolate with it tomorrow.
Con agua. (With water).
Calm down.

Then, Francis and I grabbed food on our way home (why am I a sucker for potato chips and fries?!?).
So that was my day.

Speaking of potato chips...you're probably thinking I stopped in a corner store.
NO.
There is this freaking amazing street vendor who just basically stands there all day slicing and chopping and cutting potatoes for making fries/chips and these spiral potatoes. Then, he puts all these sauces on them - and some fresh lime....

There is always a long line. I think he sprinkles crack on them.
And now you know!

Let's Just Get It Out Of The Way

2% of my day was not so great. But 98% was amazing, and so I'm going to start with the "bad" so that when you finish reading the post in its entirety, you feel happy.

On my walk home tonight, I stopped to look at an interested Day of the Dead display tucked in a courtyard just off the Zocalo. A man approached me and said (this conversation happened in Spanish)
"Hey, do you remember me?"

I looked up and sure enough it was the man who randomly bought me a memelita in the Zocalo last week. I said, "Yes. Thank you for buying my memelita last week. That was nice." He started explaining to me what the display was about, and giving me a short history of Catholic traditions + Day of the Dead.

I asked him about indigenous customs. He couldn't answer me; I should have known then that he was a creep. Instead, he told me a few more things and then asked "What are you doing tonight?" I responded with "My family is waiting for me at home. They're expecting me for dinner."

This is a classic military brat lie. It's the "I'm not going to tell you I'm walking home alone with no one expecting me" move.

Then he asked for my phone number. I told him I didn't have a phone. Then he asked if we could meet in the park and chat (at this point, I was moving out of the dark courtyard and back towards the main road with tons of people). He grabbed my hand and said he'd really like to do an intercambio (like language exchange) with me. At this point, I wasn't sure if he was being creepy or just an older man who wanted an intercambio. I told him that my friends could use the practice too, but that I wasn't comfortable meeting him alone.

He said, "I only want to be with you."
I said, "Sorry. I need to go. My family is waiting."
Then he grabbed my arm (just as I was a foot away from the main road) and said, "You're not going anywhere." He pulled me towards him.
Maybe he meant to hurt me as much as he did. Maybe my pulling violently away from him and stumbling into the road hurt me more than he intended. Either way, he got aggressively angry and followed me out into the street.

He looked really mad.

I ran to Cafe Brujula (about 10 feet away) and hid for a while. I asked the barista to check to make sure he was gone. He went out and said he didn't see any creepy looking angry dudes, and I booked it back to my house.

I guess I can't walk alone in the Zocalo anymore. That guy will probably see me and grab me and then I'll be afraid to leave the house ever again.

--- Now, before you get freaked out and say "That's Mexico for you" or something racist and inappropriate let me remind you that I have been accosted other times in the US by men of my own (and other) races. This man does not represent Mexican men. In fact, he represents the polar opposite. His actions in no way speak for the male population here, nor do his poor manners reflect the manners of men here. If you are thinking that, you are wrong. ---

Now let's get to the 98% awesome part of my day.

Breakfast. I love breakfast. Every morning, Martita feeds me gold.
Class - I love class! I love being a student! I love studying! I love learning! I love Spanish! I love my teacher! Today, we spent the whole day working on something I asked about. Luckily, my whole class didn't know the concept either, and so I didn't feel like a jerk for hijacking the class (or his lesson plan).
Mask Making Class - Mask making class is super fun. I love the 2 Octavios (teachers) and Omar. They are funny, hands on teachers that make you feel like an adult in a craft class - not a baby in a craft class. We are planning to make a video in which all of us/our masks appear. We spent class time telling jokes in Spanish and learning Spanish slang from one of the Octavios.

After mask making class, Lucy, Saskia, Billy, Thora and I all walked to the barber shop. Yesterday, Lucy and Saskia and I decided we were going to shave the sides of our heads (like Cordelia)! The two barbers there are MS13 gang members and are fully tatted (arms, necks, faces).

They're really nice dudes!

There was also the cutest little boy in there who was playing peek-a-boo with me, and would laugh hysterically every time I pretended to cut his hair. Anyway, Billy basically got us all hooked up with this place...we were the 3rd, 4th, and 5th girl Billy has brought to this shop. I'm sure the guys are wondering what the deal is. But, they didn't ask questions. They just shaved away. And they did great jobs of it. We all look really awesome. :)

After that, Saskia and Lucy went home. Thora, Billy and I went to the taco place...they didn't eat. But I ate 4 tacos + 2 extra tortillas to clean up the taco spill leftovers at the end. In the restaurant, the waiter's name was Gego. Or something like that. And they thought my hair was cool, too. And they were weirdly shocked that I was ordering and speaking in Spanish.

I'm not sure why. I must not look like I can do it.

After that, I walked home.

There were a million little things about today which I loved. Lots of laughing. New experiences. Cute little kids, smart remarks in class, being dared by a teacher to steal free fruit from a conference at our school and chickening out. Climbing on the tables at the school. Walking in the rain. The Day of the Dead festivities around the city. Talking with Martita.

98% is okay with me.