La tecnologia no es mi amiga

In the past month my phone, camera, and computer have all failed me. Luckily, those are the only electronics that I own, so I really don't have to worry any more. At least my phone works now. I'm probably better off without a computer anyway. But I would like to have the life of my camera back. It turns out human CPR doesn't work on camera anatomy. Or maybe I just did the wrong number of compressions.

This Friday is the welcome party for the re-start of the program, since it's a technically a semester-long program, and I'm staying for two of them. However, since I've already been here for 8.09 months (!!!!) and have only 3.46 months left, I feel like the year is already coming to a close. BUT, I will make the best of the time that I have left by going salsa dancing more often and doing homework less often.

And now on to my essay.

Cheers, whacks and explosions

The past Christmas was the first one spent without my biological family (cue sad face), but luckily other families adopted me for various parts of winter vacation. I spent Christmas eve and Christmas Day in Orizaba, Veracruz with Eduardo's family.

Christmas tradition that does not exist in the US: piñatas! A common one is the "piñata de picos," a sphere with 7 spikes sticking out of it, representing the 7 deadly sins: pride, greed, envy, lust, sloth, anger, and gluttony (I had to look those up, I can’t claim to know them off the top of my head). And of course, being a piñata, it (ie, the sins) should be bashed to pieces with a stick until candy falls out. I think that’s where the metaphor ends, though. I love that everyone gets really into it, even (especially) adults, everyone shouts and cheers and laughs if (when) you miss the piñata and whack the air. It’s more difficult because the piñata is hung from a rope and someone is moving it up and down so that you can’t find it---because you’re also blindfolded and dizzy from being spun around three times. They even have a song, which varies from region to region:

dale dale dale, no pierdas el tino

porque si lo pierdes, pierdes el camino

ya le diste una, ya le diste dos

ya le diste tres y tu tiempo se acabó

The day after Christman we went for a great hike/scale/slide through a trail, up a wall of rocks, and into a cave. The gate we wanted to go through to get to the path said “NO PASAR” so Eduardo found a different “entrance” and we hacked/crawled our way through some bushes to meet the real trail halfway.

It was the first time I had been real rock climbing—I think the climbing wall at REI doesn’t quite count. I did not fall off the mountain.

The cave at the top was quite slippery and the floor was not flat, so I eventually ended up in a non-vertical position and managed to slide/crab-walk the rest of the way to the exit. We climbed back down the rock wall (much more difficult than going against gravity on a rock wall for some reason), went back down the path (where I took a nice spill and put a big bruise on my left buttcheeck) and went out the gate that said NO PASAR. It only said that on the outside, it never said we couldn’t exit from there. Overall the adventure was definitely worth the mud stain on my pants.

Assortment of explosives

Playing with fire! Another awesome pastime. Fireworks come in a variety of colors, shapes, and intensities of boom—they’re illegal to sell, but not to use or set off...how convenient! You have to be careful though—don’t hold one in your hand while it’s lit if it says on it “do not hold in hand.” Just because they’re not supposed to explode doesn’t mean they don’t.

For New Years I went to a friend’s house in a village nearby. The first activity of the night was to bring a pack of twelve candles to a church to be blessed by the priest. Each candle represents a month, and they light one on the first day of every month so that the entire month is blessed. After pushing through the hordes of catholics and getting some water sprinkled on us—maybe that means we were blessed too?—we made our way back to the house to wait for midnight to eat dinner. I didn’t quite make it, I had to eat a snack around 9:00. And my friend ate some too so I wouldn’t feel bad. We passed the time by playing a bilingual game of Guess Who, so that they could practice their English. The minute between 11:59 and 12:00 was not very dramatic compared to what we do in the states. I tried to explain to them about the ball dropping in New York, but it probably sounded ridiculous to them. The youtube videos just make it look silly. When the New Year came we were making a toast, and everyone said something. It was a very family moment between my friend, his parents, and two siblings, so I tried to look as inconspicuous and Mexican as I could, but they didn’t mind at all having me there, and included me in the toast. Then we each ate 12 grapes, supposedly making a wish for each grape. I really don’t have that many wishes, if I make one wish does that mean it will come true twelve times? There was a bonfire outside and the festivities continued long into the night, yet I still heard a group of kids whacking a piñata at 9:00 the next morning. I’m going to have to find a way to concentrate more sleep into fewer hours, so I can have more waking time.

Enamorada?

I absolutely love Mexico. I love the language with the r that I can't pronounce, the chile-filled food that is eating away at the walls of my stomach, the lively salsa and cumbia dancing, the waterfalls and caves that are always hiding just around the corner, the markets full of vibrant colors and smells, the unique mix of tradition and industrialization, the weather that always keeps you on your toes, the celebrations that are had just to have one, the excess of house decorations and other items involving skeletons or skulls, and above all, the people, who endlessly point me out for being different, tease me for mixing up words or for looking confused, and completely accept me into their lives with welcoming arms and without hesitation.

Less abstract post coming soon.

(festival en Tlaxcalancingo)

For the Record

We went to another non-existent salsa class today. I'm beginning to think they are all a myth.

Yesterday I bought tomatoes, lemons, a head of broccoli, a bag of rice, an onion, a packet of drink mix, almost 2 liters of milk, mixed vegetables, beans, cheese, and ground meat at the local grocery store for ten dollars. I was so impressed I almost picked up some peanuts, too.

Time flies when you’re almost tipping over in four-wheeled bicycles, trying new foods that sometimes make your stomach angry, and going to free orchestra concerts complete with star wars characters (we came close to converting to the dark side. Oh wait, we’re already on the dark side). Yay for free concerts! Although I do support supporting musicians, I must say. Anyway, three tests (including one oral test, in front of the entire class), five essays (one of which I was kindly told by my professor didn’t make sense), and six presentations (not including the one on marijuana, my expertise, that I made but didn’t end up presenting) and one coloring activity later, the semester is almost over!

Learning-to-salsa-dance update: Two further attempts attempted, said attempts failed. We had seen a sign that said “Dance classes here!” so we returned on the correct day and time, but it turned out to be an aerobics class in a gym. Good thing I hadn’t worn my high heels. We looked ridiculous enough already, not knowing what we were doing, next to the other experienced people in their exercise gear. The next day, we tried to go to a different class, and when we found it and asked a guy if he was giving the salsa class, we received the response, “yes but it’s too late to sign up.” I will keep looking.

This past month has been a time of travel—as mentioned in a previous post (wow! I finally have previous posts to refer to! That means I'm making progress), for the day of the dead I went with the group to the city of Oaxaca, capital of the state of Oaxaca. We also visited an amazing place there called Hierve el Agua (hierve = boil), which is called that because on top of the spectacular “petrified” waterfalls that are there, water bubbles up from the ground and it appears to be boiling. But it’s not hot, so you can swim in it. Why do I keep typing bowling instead of boiling?

The water fall from above, with Sara unknowingly posing perfectly:

From the side (ch ch ch):

And from down below:
The next weekend I went with Eduardo to Xalapa, the capital of Veracruz, and from there we went to a small pueblo about half an hour to an hour and a half away (depending on who’s driving) to go zip-lining, rappelling, and (checking off something on my life goals list) white water rafting (add it back to my life goals list, so I can do it again)! I had my heroic moment when Eduardo fell out of the boat on a particularly white and choppy rapid, and I bravely threw myself into the river to save him from certain risk of getting wet…oh no I didn’t, I just watched and laughed while the guides hauled him back into the boat. It would have been a futile rescue, because we were already soaked to the bone and life jacket and helmet and clothes.

And then another weekend, my friend Asaki, also from the program, and I ventured to Morelia, Michoacan, a beautiful city with museums, el Mercado de Dulces y Artesanía (Artisan and Candy Market), a fountain of half-naked women, and a Gum Tree.

They didn’t have water shooting out of their mouths though, like I expect of all fountains of posing naked people.

Gum tree. Call me when I get back with your top three choices of color, for samples.

We also took a day trip, 3 hours in a van each way, to see a bunch of little flying creatures with 6 legs. It was well worth it:

All the little black spots, except the ones that make up the trees, are Monarch butterflies that fly down from the US and Canada this time of year to mate. There were so many you could actually hear the wings flapping, it sounded like wind going through the trees.

It’s been get a little bit colder, but still hasn’t snowed yet. I think I’ll be waiting for a long time, since it’s almost December and two days ago I was still able to go swimming in the outdoor pool at the university, the most important part of which is pictured below:

On the bottom right you can almost see someone who stood on the lowest diving platform for 30 minutes and took the exit of shame back down the stairs. Whited out for protection of identity. Will give out a name if tempted with wheat thins and nutella, turkey pot pie with three slits or other creative design cut in the top, or another white water rafting trip.

And how could I forget our Halloween party!? I was a chile en nogada, which is a typical Mexican dish because it’s red, white, and green, the colors of the flag. It’s seasonal, only available around July and August. Luckily I was here then so I got to try them, and even (attempt to) help make them!

Above, my friend Enriqueta and I (with my super-sized fork and knife), and a real chile en nogada for comparison (photo “borrowed” from the internet). The white is the nogada sauce, made from a special type of nut that I don’t remember the name of (this is not the end of a sentence so I can put a preposition here right?), the green is cilantro, and the reds are pomegranate seeds.

I have officially lived more than half of my Mexican life (unless I decide to move here...).

And I only have 4 blog posts to show for it.

Oh dear.

I'm not dead yet!

Two weeks ago found us heading south to the state of Oaxaca to celebrate el Día de los Muertos. Literally translated to “Day of the Dead,” it’s a celebration, rather than mourning, of deceased (obviously) friends and family members. Someone was explaining this tradition to me, and he mentioned the following observation: “foreigners have a hard time understanding it…you probably think we’re really crazy, celebrating death like this.” Meanwhile I had actually been thinking, “this is the awesomist holiday I’ve ever heard of.” Does that put me into the category of crazy once again?

Sidenote: I know awesomist is not a word, but that’s the word I was thinking. I am trying to maintain the authenticity of the story. Sank yo doctor.

And it was indeed the most amazing celebration I’ve experienced. Before the actual day (well, several days—when you can’t fit it all into 24 hours, just add more hours) there is the usual commercialization that comes before every holiday: there are sugar- and chocolate-skulls sold in the shops, the kids dress up in costumes and go around asking for money, the Catrinas (skeleton figurines) appear in windows…

Calaveras de azúcar (sugar skulls)

But in reality it is still taken seriously, and in each house the family puts up an ofrenda, or offering, for the family member being remembered. A table of three layers is elaborately decorated with food, drinks, incense, a photo of the person, hojaldra (a special type of bread), flowers, candles, and the person’s favorite items, so that they feel welcomed when their spirits come back. And when they've had their fill, if you get hungry, you can steal food from the table. So that it doesn’t go to waste.

Una ofrenda en un restaurante

By far the part that made the biggest impression on me was the nighttime visit to the cemetery. I had never before seen more alive people than dead people in a graveyard, but there it was, packed to the brim with people, flowers, and the occasional mariachi band, all ready to spend the night there. It simply amazed me…all these people sitting by the tombstones of family members, but no one crying. They were there just to be with them, because the spirits supposedly come back on this night. We couldn’t have been more out of place, a group of United Statesians weaving through the Mexican families, tripping over mounds of dirt and speaking spanglish, and we could feel each other’s discomfort, but we brought flowers to put on the abandoned graves, and I’m glad I got to go as I have never seen anything remotely like this before.

Wouldn't it be interesting to see what your own ofrenda would be like?