Mi Familia Poblana

I’m finally moved in with my family in Puebla, and I can’t imagine a better match! After all the waiting (and sightseeing) it’s great to be able to dispel any worries I had. My family is so sweet and caring, and made me to feel immediately at home. The rather large family begins with my “mamá,” Alba, and her husband, mi papacito. Both are retired; papacito is 85 years old, but he tells everyone that he’s 90. He always is pulling someone’s leg. Alba just rolls her eyes and asks if he wants more coffee.

Alba also has a daughter, Genie, who lives here with her husband (very knowledgeable about EVERYTHING), three kids, and three poodles. Genie is a French teacher, but is at home until the school year starts. The eldest of her children is a daughter of 21, the middle a daughter of 18, and the youngest a son of 16. We get along really well, and I’m really glad to have family members my age. Rebecca, the eldest, attends the BUAP as well, and Marta, the middle child, finds out in a few days whether she passed the BUAP entrance exams. The three of us might all be there together!

I chose my classes today, but plan on changing a few of them once I find out what other classes are available to me. They couldn’t provide us with any info concerning science classes, but I have a meeting on Monday to discuss biology classes with a bio major at the BUAP. As it stands, I have a folkloric dance class, history of the Mexican Revolution, migration and new conceptions of “rural”, and a survey of Mexican and Latin American politics and economics. I think the survey class will probably be replaced with some good local ecology class, but I can’t say for sure. I *might* even find a good geology course, but we’ll see.

Oh, and most importantly: food. As I suspected it would, Mexican food has turned out to be rather different than the American conception of it. Carrot soup, followed by tortillas filled with potato fried, topped with salsa verde and sour cream made up our dinner/lunch/big meal thing at mid-afternoon today. (Of note here, is that in Mexico City the word for tomato is “tomate” and the word for tomatillo is “ghitomate.” Here in Puebla, the exact reverse is true; tomates are green and ghitomates are red.

So, between writing this paragraph and the last I have been fed again. This time a ham and cheese melt on a croissant twice the size of my hand. Just a little snack, you see! In keeping with this sort of behavior on the part of my mamá, I’m going to be seriously gordita by the time I return home.

In conclusion, I love it here!