Actualización final

This will be my last post from Mexico. A little later today I will get into the car that will take me to the bus which will take me to the plane which will take me to the other plane which will take me to the car which will take me to the house where I will spend the first night of what will be at least a year of nights in the United States of America. Whew. Sorry, when I'm tired I tend to rant.

That said, this is pretty much the official end of my JYA in Puebla. Whoa. Just whoa.

Maybe it's because it's pushing 2 in the morning, or maybe it's because I've just come home from my final goodbye party (which may or may not have included several kick-ass mojitos with the foodies), or maybe it's simply because it's too much to express rationally, but I am having a very hard time putting into logical words what I need to say. So I'll put it in emotions:

I feel so full of love for everyone that I have met here and who have shaped my time here in Mexico. I feel sad that I will probably never see some of them again, but happy that I know I will see at least a few of them many more times, both in this life and in those yet to come. I feel excitement to come "home" but immense trepidation at the thought of re-integrating into a culture/society that I'm not so sure I still belong to. I am so grateful to everyone in the USA who made this year possible, and to those who tried to stop me from coming; without them I never would have found my own voice. I feel great love for people on both sides of what I perceive as a rather large gap, and great disappointment that there are differences which simply may never be reconciled (between these two "sides" and within myself). I have spoken of this to many of my friends here, and most of the cooler ones have assured me that none of us can belong fully to any society and so trying to fit ourselves into categories like "Mexican" or "Gringo" are a waste of time. I would honestly love to believe them, but I'm a little dubious about it. Only time will tell, I suppose.

Anyway, life is beautiful. My bags are packed, I have said goodbye to everyone, and whether I like it or not my plane leaves tomorrow to bring me back to the life that I knew so well before coming here. I brought things with me, left some things here, and picked up some new things. The current of life streams onward and I plan to keep my head well above water, because there's too much to do and see to let yourself get pulled under.

Desfile de fotos

In almost exactly five and a half days from this moment, I will be arriving safely at home in upstate New York. It seems like a small event, the same bus ride, the same flight, the same car, the same bed. It will, really, be a return to my normal little life. Or that's the idea, anyway. When I look back at my life, it will be this past year that stands out as something out-of-the-ordinary, but right now it is the return to the "normal" that seems so unusual. I will return to my mother tongue, to the country and the culture which was my home for the first 20 years of my life. I will welcome it with open arms, and surely it will do the same for me. But are we still compatible? I know that I am a very different person from the timid little creature that got on a plane last autumn, and the person I am now will most certainly not fit into exactly the same niche as the one left vacant by Sara Hope Sirois. The question, however, is whether or not Sara Esperanza Suárez will be able to find her own niche in a world that may no longer be hers. To tell the truth, I thought I was "a little nervous" about leaving "the familiar, comfortable northeastern United States for our neighbor to the south, Mexico" but that was nothing compared to how nervous I am about heading back up north. So admist all this whining and complaining and worrying lies the moral of the story: if I seem a little out of sorts upon my return, please be compassionate; I will probably feel rather like a stranger in my own home.

Whew! Okay, so this blog post was supposed to be an exaltation of all my favorite people here in Mexico, but apparently I had something I needed to get off my chest. Sooooo anyway... a photo tribute to all the Mexicans and almost-Mexicans who have made my time here so special:


Phoebe, myself, Cat, and Hugo in Acapulco. Cat and Phoebe are two of the sweetest, bravest, most talented women I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I passed some wonderful times with them (even if they couldn't eat street food) but I don't think I ever made clear to them just how much I admire them and how grateful I am that I had the opportunity to spend last semester with them. Even though Hugo and I may no longer really be speaking (He de-friended me on facebook! Que mala onda!!) he will forever go down in the books as a very important person to me and my time in Mexico. With him I learned how to tune a guitar, I learned where to go for the best milkshakes in Puebla, and I learned that I have a passion for movies and for people who love to talk about movies.




Stephanie and Toby, my most-favoritest after-class-coffee-date friends! Women who will take the world by storm, one well-argued point after another. Both of strong convictions and unafraid to break the rules for a just cause. We damn well better see each other soon, ladies!




Gabriel and Jaime, being... well... themselves. I can only say that we have had some pretty interesting times together. Cholulandia would never have had the same charm without them, and I would never have embraced my drinking-swearing-spitting alterego. Seriously, though, aside from helping turn me into Bonnie Parker these guys have helped me perfect my Spanish (both profane and polite), have celebrated several important holidays with me, and will be sorely missed.




LA FRIJOLAAAAAAAAAA (Can we keep her? Please? Can we? Pleasepleaseplease?)




Andrea and Dofus at the base of Popocatépetl. No words can properly describe how important they are to me, so I won't even try.




The biology gang!! They are the smelliest, dirtiest, crudest, smartest, most forward-thinking group of people I've ever met. You can't beat bonding over a week-long spell in the desert!



Cristina, whose picture you will find under the dictionary entry for the phrase "salt of the earth."



Jonatan. Big boy, big heart. The truth is that I wish we'd spent more time together. Plus you know he's awesome because in this photo he's making lasagna. HOME-MADE LASAGNA.


Meet Erika, a new addition to the program this semester. Some people should have been Smithies but just never got the message. She is crazy, fun, irreverent, mischievous, and resourceful.




TRIO DE GRINGAAAAAAAAS. We have spent countless hours doing all those non-specific but essential things that girlfriends do. We may all be pretty different, but that's what makes for good friends, right? Jackie has taught me how to kick ass and take names, and Joelle has taught me how to sugar-coat an unpleasant truth. They both have taught me lots of verbs, nouns, and adjectives. But despite their best efforts, I still don't have a hold on the pinche subjuntivo.




Misa and Roy, the daring duo in their traditional Mexican party-sombreros. I love these two like my own brothers, and they think of me as their little sister (which, I assure you, is awesome at certain times and infuriating at others). They truly have been guiding forces for me, and their influence will not soon be forgot.




My host parents!! Alba is a sweet older lady who never thinks that anyone, ever, has had enough to eat. She believes that there is no such thing as too much jewelry, and that Renoir is the coolest thing since sliced bread. Gabriel (known as el Doctor) suffers from dementia and as such seems to bounce between two poles: the friendly jokester who loves to sing along with the old Mexican movies, make silly faces at the dinner table, and gently poke fun at everyone around him... and the angry child who wants everything his own way and needs to know exactly where everyone is. Anyway, they have welcomed me into their home, not just as an exchange student, but as a friend and family member.



This lovely specimen is my dear friend Noel, better known as Fachas. He is the younger brother of Dofus, and we had a class together all of last semester... and never spoke once. Until this semester, that is. And the minute we opened up to each other, we both realized that we share one of those crazy cosmic bonds where you know you met in some earlier life. My first official act was to knock out his four front teeth (his bridge, that is) and his was to laugh hysterically, bear-hug me, and go off on a rant about how it's easier to smoke a cigarette without those pesky incisors. We both recognize that our relationship this semester was a flash in the pan, but we get the sense that it was just one flash in a long series that we have shared. Maybe next time we'll meet in Africa or Antarctica...




And last but certainly not least we have Martha and Rebeca, my sisters. I do not say "host-sisters" because I consider them my true sisters, and that's all one really needs to say


P.S. I stole a bunch of these photos from my friends.

México en la Piel

There is a rather famous song here called "México en la Piel" written by José Manuel Fernández and made famous by Luis Miguel. The song repeats "Así se lleva México en la piel" which basically suggests that 'Mexico is carried in the skin', that it is part of everyone who has ever experienced it, inescapable.

If you would like to hear the song, this video (which was most definitely NOT made by yours truly) has good audio quality and while the quality of the video is poor, this was the only one whose images actually look like the Mexico I know and love.

Anyway, I am here to tell you that while the metaphor may be true, I am not literally carrying Mexico in my skin. Rather, I am carrying it the adipose tissue which lies just underneath my skin. That is, I'm carrying about 20 pounds of Mexico, specifically in my thighs, belly, and love-handles. All this "Mexico" comes not without hard work and dedication, however! Do you know how much street food you have to eat to do this to yourself???

While I consider that my progress in the gastronomic experimentation sector of life has been pretty strong throughout this entire year, since I only have less than 2 weeks here in Mexico I've been really kicking it into high gear and going for it! This is the last 500m of a 5k race, the last 5 questions on a timed test, the last... calf-brain taco in a series of strange foods? It is, as Karen Klinger would say, time to empty the tank (though little does she realize that in this particular case it's really more a question of filling the tank- with delicious food).

Let me say here that Mexican food has a tendency to use all of the animal, so the opportunities for "weird" foods abound. Last night, for example, our late-night taco binge included the very standard tacos arabes (spicy meat- much more than that no one seems to know), the rather unusual but delicious tacos de lengua (cow tongue), the mysterious tacos de cabeza (simply means "head"- I can't visualize it, but it tastes great!), and the texturally unique tacos de ojo (made of some poor creature's eyes- incidentally, actually "taco de ojo" is also the Mexican expression for "eye candy" and echarse un taco de ojo can either mean to eat an actual taco made of eyes or to check out a particularly nice piece of eye candy). On the menu were also tacos made of tripe, cheeks, genitals, lips, brains, and a few things which even my Mexican companions could not identify. To be perfectly honest, however, once each of these tacos is topped with onion and cilantro, drenched in lime juice, and smothered in either red or green salsa (or both, if you're a rebel), they all begin to taste pretty similar.

Other 'odd' foods which I have recently included in my diet are mole de panza (a sort of soup which includes chunks of cow stomach), tostadas de pata (fried tortillas layered with lettuce, tomato, cheese, radishes, salsa, and strips of gelatinous hoof meat), flautas de sesos (brains mixed with spices, rolled into a tortilla and fried), tacos filled with a spicy congealed blood sausage (whose name I don't remember), and mole flavored ice cream (which actually tastes like the spicy, savory mole sauce).

The moral of the story is that if you don't eat meat, in Mexico you miss a big part of the culture. And if you don't eat "weird" animal parts, you're just plain missing out! And if you don't eat street food, you will probably avoid 'carrying Mexico in your skin' but what fun would that be?

Los Ahuehuetes (again)

So in case you haven't memorized EVERY WORD of my blog, you can refer back to my first visit to Los Ahuehuetes here.

You will notice that I predicted my return to this magical spot, and last Tuesday that prediction was fulfilled! And this time I brought the camera, so I can share with you what may very well be my favorite place in the world.

Myself, Dofus, Andrea, and my new friend Cristina all piled in to Cristina's old VW bug (called bochos) and made our way to the most special of places. Along the way we stocked up on vittles, chatted, and generally got really silly!

We arrived to the relatively crowded park (nice weather brings everybody out, even on a Tuesday before lunch), set up camp in a sunny spot, broke out the chelas, and sat talking until the heat got the better of us and we all went for a swim!

Important realizations of the day:
• a single piece of trident gum can be stretched to the width of the backseat of a VW bug
• wasp stings hurt
• potato chips a la diabla are the best food EVER
• the city harms your soul
• sometimes things are so beautiful you get teary
• and sometimes they're so beautiful that you have to sob like a baby, indecently and conspicuously, until you can do nothing but laugh (I believe there's a line from the Regina Spektor song On the Radio that pretty much sums up this realization: "You laugh until you cry/ You cry until you laugh/ And everyone must breathe/ Until their dying breath")
• my friends are my life, los quiero un chingo

Guanajuato

Last weekend was filled with a program-sponsored trip to Guanajuato, a small city some 230 miles north of Mexico City. It is famous for its picturesque streets, extensive subterranean tunnel system, a large collection of mummies, silver mines, an obsession with Don Quixote, for the home of Diego Rivera, and for being the cradle of Independence. It is also the home to the University of Guanajuato, which was recently featured in a film called El Estudiante, and also appears on the 1000 peso banknote.

Our trip basically consisted of a very long bus ride on Thursday afternoon, checking in to a very gaudy (and very expensive) hotel, and then the cool kids and I went out to explore the town and have a quiet drink somewhere. What we found was La Diabla, a small dark tavern with beer at 90 pesos the pitcher and a very personable staff (of two chilangos) who kept the fun going until well into the wee hours. That Thursday night was probably the most fun I've ever had on a group excursion!


Jackie and her new sunglasses (she is VERY proud of them) at La Diabla.


The next day we awoke early but still satisfied from the previous night's adventures and went on a forced tour of the city's attractions. The truth is actually that it was a pretty cool tour which included mummies (AWESOME), a silver mine (a real one this time, unlike in Taxco), a museum of the Inquisition's methods (I couldn't handle it; I had to go outside), and several smallish monuments. Then there we had free time to eat and explore, so the cool kids and I went for a fabulously inexpensive lunch, wandered around at such places as the Don Quixote museum, took naps, and finished our day with bagels and another night of fun which began at La Diabla, meandered through Bar Fly, and ended at Los Lobos. Guanajuato is a city with a very young, hip population so the nightlife is one of its main attractions (because seriously, how many monuments can you look at?).


A case of mummies at the museum in Guanajuato. They are all apparently the result of natural mummification which is observed in the bodies disinterred between 1865 and 1958. They range from elderly people to fetuses, from criminals to campesinos, and include at least one stabbing victim, one pregnant woman, and one person who was buried alive.


BABYMUMMY


Inquisition dummy!! He's probably busy sanctioning the torture and murder of countless people just because they're DIFFERENT. (but he does have a pretty sweet Hamlet skull on his desk, so we can cut him a little slack)



One of many, many representations of Don Quixote in the city of Guanajuato. Dashing as ever.



Erika with Diego Rivera's statue. It was love at first sight!

Saturday dawned early once again, and after yet another merely par omelet from the hotel restaurant, we set off as a group to visit two small towns: to Dolores Hidalgo where we visited the home of Miguel Hidalgo and ate overpriced (and delicious) sorbet, and to San Miguel de Allende where we only had time for lunch. My favorite group of hedonists and I, in search of cheap gourmet, stumbled upon Bruno's restaurant, a small place run by a very chatty Italian man who has been living there for several decades. He has not lost either his ability to make amazing pesto or to chat up a group of young ladies. He introduced us to the wonders of "chocolate salami" (a cold dessert which makes your heart melt), the merits of oldies music, the subtleties of espresso with sambuca, the origins of square dance, and the time-honored tradition of looooooong conversations over a meal (okay, so we already knew that one, but it's always good to reinforce concepts, right?). Upon our return to Guanajuato there was shopping and galavanting, followed by our traditional Foodie-Night at a local fusion restaurant. There are a select few of us who take every opportunity to use the money the program gives us for meals on program excursions, eat as cheaply as possible for the whole trip (think lots of tacos de canasta), and use the money we've saved for an extravagant meal. This particular trip brought grilled salmon in a chili sauce, Asian tuna steak, garlic shrimp pizza, a bottle of wine, and a slice of chocolate cake. We soooo know how to live! We spent the rest of our food comas in a calm evening of GloZell's translations and a relatively early bedtime.

Sunday consisted of sleeping in, tamales and horchata for breakfast, checking out the local food market, packing our bags, and the very long trip back to Puebla. All in all, a great success!

Tulancinging in the rain

This weekend was spent in Tulancingo, Hidalgo with my friend Gibran and his family. Friday we arrived at their house just in time for dinner (squash casserole, rice, tortillas, and avocados) then went on a slightly rainy tour of this smallish city.
Mode of transportation: red four-wheeler (with matching helmets).
Level of excitement: high.
Probability that a girl from upstate New York would drive a four-wheeler for the first time in urban Mexico: low, but obviously not impossible.
Final touch: guajolotes for dinner (a typical food of Tulancingo, a sandwich consisting of a fried bun stuffed with fried tortillas, salsa, refried beans, meat, onions, and cheese -> like a heart attack, but tastier).

Saturday was spent making pozole and wandering around the center of the city. Pozole is officially my favorite Mexican food, a stew consisting of very large kernels of corn and pieces of meat in a spicy broth. It is then topped with chopped radish, lettuce, lemon juice, and chile, and traditionally eaten with fried tortillas. According to wikipedia, it was made in prehispanic times using human flesh, but except in the sketchiest establishments, that particular foodstuff has been replaced with chicken and pork.

After a very late start (Saturday night consisted of a get-together with a group of very fun people), Sunday we visited a waterfall which flows over a series of large mineral prismatic formations known as basalt columns, which result from the very slow cooling of lava.** You can check it out here. Then on to Real del Monte, a town which is known for its silver mines, the influence of the English, and a delicious little potato, meat, and bean hotpocket known as a paste.


Los prismas

** The information here has been made more accurate thanks to Amie, who has kindly forced me to learn one more thing related to geology.

una epifanía no entendida

I returned to Mexico from my trip to Nicaragua last Friday night (well, very early Saturday morning), but it has taken me until now to write about it here, in this relatively public forum. And even now, I find it hard to put into words what went on, but something very powerful happened to me while on this incredible, perspective-expanding, blew-me-out-of-the-water adventure. I have this nagging suspicion that I discovered something very fundamental about myself, the world, or both. What that epiphany might be, however, I still haven't figured out. Surely, the real import will become clear to me only later in life. Until then, I present you with the facts, mostly in photograph form.




Where did we go?
Ciara picked me up from the Managua airport (1) and we went in taxi to a bus station where we caught a rapi-bus to Chinandega (2), where we caught a local bus to our groovy little hostel, Rancho Esperanza, in Jiquilillo (3). Here I would like to note that Managua is where more than a quarter of the country's population lives (in real life), Chinandega is the hottest place in the world (in my very accurate opinion), buses in Nicaragua are generally used school buses from the USA, repainted with fangs, flags, and religious figures. Jiquilillo is a secluded beach area which is home exclusively to fishermen and English-speaking tourists. From Jiquilillo we took about a million different forms of land transport over the course of an entire day (which sounds awful, but which was very cool, complaining cuñados aside) to arrive in San Ramon (4), the small town where Dylan and Ciara are living. There I stayed with them and their host family, Doña Aracely, Don Agustin, and their god-daughter Rosa. At the end of my stay, I made the journey back to Managua for my flight back to Mexico.





The view from the main "lodge" at our hostel in Jiquilillo. Guests stay in the cabins, which feature sand floors, bamboo walls, thatched roofs, and plenty of beach-kitsch.




This is my room in San Ramon, simply equipped with the essential: a bare lightbulb, a table, a mosquito net, and the most comfortable bed I've slept in for years. I had always imagined sleeping under a mosquito net to be confining and unpleasant, but quite the opposite is true; it feels very safe and comforting.




The view of the house in San Ramon from the street. We spent countless hours seated here chatting, playing games, reading, and saying Adio' to anyone who happened to walk by. (The other gringos and I also spent hours getting stared at relentlessly by all passers-by.)



The house, from the Doña's very impressive garden.




Rosita, my Nicaraguan sister. I promised her that I would come back to San Ramon, a promise I fully intend to fulfill.




The Nicaraguan version of a tamal, called nacatamales. They consist of corn masa, rice, tomato, potato, meat, and some sort of mildly spicy sauce, all wrapped up in banana leaves (and tin foil), then boiled.




Doña Aracely, Dylan, and Ciara with makeshift mustaches! I haven't laughed so hard in a very, very long time (and I'm not sure if the Doña has EVER laughed so hard. This was the only photo, out of at least a dozen, where she has contained her laughter enough to keep her mustache in place.)




A sampling of beautiful woven fabrics




One of the women who weaves said fabrics. She is part of the El Chile women's weaving cooperative, which is empowering women, reviving a traditional indigenous art, and creating a whole host of geniously constructed bags, wallets, cases, purses, and scarves.

No hay pedo, güey!

Among my many discoveries about this frequently magical and completely awesome (in both good and bad senses of the word) country is that vacations are taken very seriously. No one messes with your vacation, but it's totally okay if you want to mess with their productivity. SO, in the spirit of Mexican lengthening of vacations, I set out tonight for my spring break. So what if spring break (semana santa) doesn't start until Saturday? This is Mexico, for crying out loud! And, as if any proof were needed, my Fridays are always class-free as I am trying to assimilate as best I can and NOTHING says Mexican college student like perpetual 3-day weekends, plus my usual Thursday class has been canceled this week because the professor is also leaving early for break. Add that all up and you are left with the perfect reason to leave early: I may be missing a day of classes, but I'm making up for it with nearly a whole week more of vacation. A result which is completely acceptable in the mind of the typical college student (well, really, the typical anyone) here.

So where am I going to spend this luxurious 3 (THREE) weeks? Tonight I leave for Nicaragua where I will be visiting my friends Ciara and Dylan for 10 days. Once I get back I will probably feel guilty, do homework for a few days, get sick of it (this is called hueva), then set off on some other adventure for the next week and a half. So far I've talked with people about going to Chiapas, Pahuatlan, and Acapulco. Decisions, decisions... Life here sure is tough! ;)

Until next time (which may or may not be coming to you straight from Nicaragua), be safe, have fun, and keep it chill because, as I've repeatedly been told, No hay pedo, güey!

Asociación de palabras

So for this blog post, we're going to play a word association game: I'll say a phrase and you think of a list of words that you immediately associate with said phrase. Then I'll share my list (which has been affected by my recent experiences here in Mexico).



1. A "traditional" Saint Patrick's Day

Your list here:
-
-
-
-
-

My list:
- wrong bus, Jackie
- Guiness
- green t-shirts
- potatoes
- ginger carrots
- a bunch of smoked hamsss
- po-po popo Popo Poe poema
- Spice Girls and Backstreet Boys
- sleeeeepy



2. Mesoamerican archeological site

Your list:
-
-
-
-
-

My list:
- re-mota places
- new friends
- sunshine
- breeze
- temple-top contemplations
- seated siestas



3. Clubbing on a Friday night
Your list:
-
-
-
-
-

My list:
- boars
- boring
- borrachos
- blurry


4. Escape from the club!
Your list:
-
-
-
-
-

My list:
- Friends beat strangers 100%
- Chiapas casual-wear
- warm
- fuzzy
- Greased lightenin'!!!!
- laid-back Beatles
- pillow talk
- sleepy sunrise
- chilaquiles and coffee

La guitarra

So as you may remember, I have been taking guitar lessons this semester. I would like to present to you a video of the first "real" song I have learned: "Waltz" by Italian classical guitar composer Ferdinando Carulli (full name Ferdinando Maria Meinrado Francesco Pascale Rosario Carulli). My version of it is not perfect, but gives you an idea of what I've been up to!

hipopótama hambrienta

As I write this, I am seated at my desk in my sunny upstairs room (which has a full view across the courtyard into the kitchen below). I am ostensibly doing homework, but unless my homework is downloading "The Lost Boys" on megavideo and listening to Carol King music (and writing a blog post), how much homework I am currently doing is debatable. Up until about 20 minutes ago, I was studiously reading, underlining, researching, and writing. What is it, then, that causes this change in my productivity by which I am afflicted every afternoon at around 3 PM? HUNGER.

Not that I ever go hungry here, as there is more food than I know what to do with and it is (often forcibly) readily available. The problem is that even if I wasn't hungry before, around 2:30 my host mom gets down to the preparation of the midday meal and the delicious smell begins to waft up through my open window until I am simply ravenous.

(Side note: Have I mentioned that my room is equipped with jalousie windows which never really close and have an inch-wide gap at both the top and the bottom? They're great for keeping a room fresh because they let in lots of air, along with lots of smells, both good and bad.)

The 45-minute wait between when the smells start and when we get to eat the deliciousness is excruciating. My host mom has to be the VERY BEST COOK in all of Puebla, and every meal is outstanding. While I'm sure that if I went downstairs and was like, "hey, I'm hungry" I would get a ton of snacks thrown at me, but I maintain this puritanical guilt about "ruining my appetite." Therefore, I suffer in non-productive silence.

Another interesting tidbit of information is that, while I said that we get cookin' around 2:30, that's just the actual assembly and frying (it's almost ALWAYS frying) of the food. Do not be deceived! My host mom has been preparing food since around 10 this morning, shopping for, washing, peeling, chopping, marinating, and doing various other delicious things to what invariably becomes another amazing culinary wonder from the kitchen of Alba Escudero y Uribe de Vallejo (who besides being an awesome cook has an awesome name).

Oh! I just got called to eat, so here I will leave you. Buen provecho!

Güeyes, magueyes, y pulque-es

Today was a class-free gift from the anthropology gods, which my little group of friends (known affectionately as la banda) decided was a clear sign that some cultural education was seriously in order for yours truly. Aaaand because my friends are awesome, the form that cultural education took was a trip to a pulqueria. What is this, you ask? Well, take a seat on the hearth rug, children, and I will spin you a yarn.

It all begins with an agave plant (a maguey) whose sugary sap has been collected and fermented in a process which dates from prehispanic times here in Mexico. The result is a milky, viscous (read: just shy of snotty), mildly alcoholic beverage known as pulque. This unique beverage held a sacred status before the arrival of the conquistadors, but has since become very much a drink of all social classes in rural Mexico.


These are magueyes, which take 12 years to reach harvest maturity, and only produce sap for a year at most.


Pulque is relatively high in vitamins, minerals, and calories, which has helped maintain its status as a highly popular beverage, even among children and pregnant women. And, of course, among college students on a Thursday afternoon. It can be "cured" or "uncured," though I am still not completely clear on the difference. It sometimes comes in flavors (note 3/7/10: I tried strawberry-flavored pulque for the first time last night, and it is GROSS. It tastes like fruit at first, followed by a vomit-like aftertaste. I highly recommend sticking with unflavored), or can be served mixed with a little bit of soda.

So my day begins with a fun group of people waiting for somebody to get there (this is a constant in ANY group event here), followed by that same group shoving itself into an ancient, tiny Porsche convertible. There are then 8-peso gorditas at a roadside stand, a walk along an old railroad track, and the arrival at the pulqueria (the bars which specialize in this lovely little beverage) which is marked only by a sign saying "Good pulque sold here".

We pass through the curtain which serves as a door, past the table of men discussing livestock, and enter into the window-less concrete back-room which is inhabited only by an abused bicycle, a large wire spool which serves as the table, Corona lawn chairs, and several calender cut-outs of women in very skimpy outfits. It is immediately clear that this is going to be VERY GOOD pulque.*

*I have found that the smaller, dingier, and sketchier an establishment is, the better whatever their specialty is. This theory very rarely fails.



This is a photo of pulque that I stole from here. Note what looks like a stream of liquid running off the back of the serving cup. That is not a stream of liquid, rather it is a string of the mucus-like beverage.

So we purchase our 15-peso tupperware jug of pulque (decidedly as uncured, unflavored, and unadulterated as is possible), fill our glasses, propose a toast, and get down to our cultural education. After our second jug, when we have all dabbled our ways into good spirits, we are joined by an older gentleman known as "Don Gabi", who regales us for the next hour with off-color jokes, bits of wisdom, filter-less cigarettes, and brings out a bottle of some sort of fruit-based and vile-tasting liquor sure to cause blindness. (We were all definitely more keen on his jokes than on his brew.) He also invited us to his granddaughter's first communion party in two weeks. Will we go? Of course! It would be a serious offense to accept an invitation and then not show up. Plus, there will be plentiful food and music.

So the verdict? Pulque is delicious, friends are awesome, and conversations with strangers are so much better than your parents told you.

No estoy muerta/ A what? A duck.

So despite the significant lapse since my last post, I assure you all that I am not dead. Since my last post, I have experienced my first serious Mexico-related stomach upset (dubbed "Montezuma's Revenge" for a reason), laughed hysterically at ducks' tails and at a friend whose front-tooth bridge fell out (on separate occasions), taken my first exam of the semester, learned to dance Danzón and the Cha-cha-chá, and been given a new nickname: Alubia.

Here's the review:

-Bacteria are fun until they're not. Luckily God invented antibiotics.

-Ducks wag their tails ridiculously. They also get all pissy when you laugh at them. Wanna buy a duck?


-Friends with their front teeth missing are amazing, and do NOT get all pissy when you laugh at them. They laugh too, which is how you know they're your friends.

-Exams have always been and will always be a necessary evil.

-¡Danzón es la neta! (Danzón is a type of salon dance popular among the older crowd. It is of Cuban origin, but arose originally from English contradance. It was once considered scandalous but is now a fixture of the Puebla Lion's Club Sunday evening dances.)

-Alubias are a type of small, white bean. You do the math.

Photo montage!!

So in the interest of laziness and how I have homework to do tonight (I know, yuck!), I present to you fine folks a photo montage of last weekend.


On Friday we went to Cuernavaca, where we went first to the Palacio de Cortes museum, which does not merit a photo (read: sucked), and then to the house/museum of the late Robert Brady, an Iowa-born art collector who made his home in Mexico and then filled it with a ton of art from around the world. He also made sure to place his carefully hoarded pretties in arrangements which highlighted cool aspects of them. This, for example, is on the left: Josephine Baker, an entertainer from the 1930's who never gave birth to any children, but who adopted 12. On the right: an African goddess of fertility. You can't say he didn't have impeccable taste.




On Saturday we went to Taxco, a relatively nearby town. There is nothing to do there aside from buy silver jewelry (which apparently no longer even comes from Taxco, all the mines have been exhausted and they now have to import it). BUT thanks to my amazing friends Jackie and Erika, we managed to find something way better to do, we climbed all the way up to the Jesus statue which overlooks the town. It was basically a case study in different types of men: the nice old men who invite you in for conversation, the unpleasant men (young and old) who catcall you incessantly, boys like Edgar who give you directions and take your picture, and carpenters who died thousands of years ago but still get their statues put on hills.




That night Jackie and Erika and I decided that we deserved an awesome dinner, and we were not going to settle for anything less than extraordinary. How do you say "extraordinary" in Spanish? Italian Food. There was bread and oil, various pasta creations, a slice of chocolate-almond cake, and this bottle of wine. For all of that we spent less than $50 US and had a kick-ass time. Mexico I love thee. (plus it was really nice to NOT eat another Mexican dish for a change)



On Sunday we went to Tepoztlan, a very small town with a very big hill. Sitting like a small and insignificant bump on this hill/mountain is an ancient pyramid, which was ostensibly what we wanted to see. You will note that it did not merit a photo, but these cute little guys, called coatis, did. There are bunches of them at the summit, and if you are not careful they will steal any food you might have with you. Also, if you are not careful they will charm you so thoroughly with their adorableness that you will go temporarily insane, kidnap one, carry it down the mountain and back to your hotel room, feed it Valentine's candy, and be arrested by the Mexican police for poaching. So watch out!

Lo bonito, lo esencial

There are four things in my room that were not there before. I am very fond of each of them.


1. The first addition to my room is this guitar, shown here in its natural state. It is on loan from my exchange program, which is also providing me with lessons. I am quickly becoming obsessed with it; I now understand my father's love of the guitar, and can only hope that I have inherited his talent. I have definitely inherited his affinity for bluesy folk music. But despite any visions of grandeur, so far I'm still finding my way around the fingerboard and struggling to hear the difference between a string which is in tune and one which is not.




2. The second addition to my room is this drawing, sent to me from the USA, along with some much-needed supplies (i.e. chocolate and other valuables). Turns out that packages CAN indeed arrive here from across the border, safe and sound, albeit thoroughly inspected for any signs of value/ease of theft. The catch, however, is that the customs fees cost far more than the market value of what is contained in the package. Sentimental value, however, wins in the end, and I am very thankful to my dear friends back home! Los quiero mucho!





3. The third addition to my room is a print of this photo, which shows myself and Hugo (remember him from Acapulco?) at the program welcome party on Friday night. It was a very nice evening of socializing, eating, and DANCING. Hugo is an excellent dancer and a very patient teacher, and I can now say that I have a pretty good handle on cumbia, salsa, and a variety of banda styles. I am sure that I will go through dancing withdrawal once back home.




4. The final addition to my room is this Gerber daisy. Do you remember when I said that traditionally in Mexico if a man wants to date a woman there is a specific process involved, which usually includes flowers? If not, you can review it here, item #6. As with all things, to understand one needs only be told, but to comprehend one must experience. Let's just say that up until Friday night I merely understood this specific process of courtship, of which this flower is part. ¿Comprendes?

Veracruz

Last Sunday I met 7 other members of my Ethnomusicology class (plus our teacher and his girlfriend) at 7 AM in the cloudy, deserted cold of early-morning Puebla. We all loaded into a large red van and drove to the town of Tlacotalpan, Veracruz, the coastal state just to the east of Puebla. The town was holding its annual festival of the local Son Jarocho music, which has been named Patrimonio Mundial (world patrimony)!

We arrived in the afternoon and wandered around to all the town parks, which were littered (well jam-packed would be a better description) with tents in which people who had come from all over the place were camping. We were unable to find a spot for our 10-person tent in any of the parks, so we knocked on the door of a big house with a big walled-in yard and basically asked if we could set up our tent in the yard and stay for a few days. We were warmly received and made our temporary home!



Once the parks filled up, people pitched their tents in whatever space they could find. The whole town was one big, happy, musical, well-fed Hooverville.


Later that day we watched a parade through town of tons of people in traditional costume on horseback, we ate tamales de elote (like a regular tamal, but with whole-ish corn kernels in the masa), listened to hours of traditional Son, and topped off the night with toritos, a creamy alcoholic drink which comes in flavors like coconut, peanut (my favorite, of course!), caramel, chocolate, and several different fruit flavors.

The forum in which Jaranero music is played is called a fandango, which seems to be a large group of people who get together and jam. These sessions include instruments, singing, dancing, and of course drinking, and last well into the night/morning. Groups can perform on stage or can wander around. The tent cities were pretty well stocked with dueling jaranas!



This was my favorite group, La Familia Utrera. They were amazing. Sometimes Son Jarocho (that's what the genre is called) tends to be sort of yelled more than sung, but this group had its shit together. Not only that, but the songs they sang were not just the same traditional ones you heard over and over, but new and different. There's one sad one that translates loosely along the lines of "I won't sing of my sadness at the fandango, because the fandango is happiness. Call me llorona (a woman who cries too much) but just let me cry."



Sisters, two of many young performers at the Jaranero festival with their jaranas, resembles a guitar but has a sound all its own. There seems to be a big emphasis in continuing this art form by instilling it in the youth of the society. Seems to be working; people of all ages performed together!



The next day we basically did the whole thing over again, with more exploration of the festival. There were also several temporary markets, plenty of men on horseback, vociferous shrimp vendors, carnival games and rides, dancing, hippies from all over the world (seriously I have never seen so many white people with dreds wearing sandals and baja hoodies in my whole life; it was like Ithaca in Spanish), and all manner of delicious food! There were also rows of really ripe portable toilets, or you could pay 5 pesos in almost any restaurant or store to use their bathroom. Showers cost 20 pesos, but after so much humidity and dirt it's SO WORTH IT.




So their were games for the kids and for the -ahem- kid in each of us. This is my classmate Rodrigo, letting his inner child beat the socks off of me and Camille.

Tlacotalpan is not a huge city, so after the first two days we were all a little cabin-feverish. The cure? Impromptu road trip. On Tuesday we hit the road to Catemaco (which in Nahuatl means "the place of burnt houses"), a pueblo about an hour's drive from Tlacotalpan. Along the way we stopped at some incredible water falls called the Salto de Eyipantla, got soaked in the spray, which felt amazing in the humid heat of the coast. Then in Catemaco we went for a boat tour of the lagoon there, at 300-some-odd meters above sea level, the lagoon is a relatively pristine nature preserve. There are, however, various businesses thriving on its shores. We all got mineral facials, for example, then all got to pay a few pesos for the privilege to wash the mud off our faces in a mineral spring. There is also an island with monkeys on it! It's a small piece of land (like the size of a small house) with 5 or 6 macaques, but it was still cool! After our boat tour, we hit a fondita for some awesome food! I ate estofado, which is basically chicken cooked with tomatoes, onions, peppers, olives, and spices. It was very delicious!




The waterfall, view from the top. BREATHTAKING.



The lagoon of Catemaco. The picture really doesn't do it justice; it was incredibly beautiful! I recommend to anyone planning to visit Mexico that they swing through here and enjoy this rare gem.




Getting mud masks in the jungle! It felt nice to be pampered after a weekend of porta-potties and sleeping on the hard, wet ground, but I'm not sure it made any of the magical changes in my complexion that the lady promised.

We returned Wednesday, sunburnt, exhausted, and completely (at least in my case) sick of listening to Jarocho music. All in all a seriously awesome field trip!


This is my classmate Camille, from Quebec, while we were at the waterfall. This is my favorite picture of this whole trip (and possibly my whole time in Mexico) because her facial expression basically sums up my feelings about my experience here.