tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63735230205754683462024-02-07T00:27:44.561-06:00Southern LivingExperimentations in MexicoAlicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.comBlogger172125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-63351595122850620462011-07-20T19:33:00.004-05:002011-08-07T13:03:10.330-05:00Natural Birth Resources in Mexico CityBesides an ounce or two of formula the nursery gave my son without asking (sneaky, they were, by feeding it to him in a cup), we were very satisfied with our birthing experience here in Mexico City. While I ended up not giving birth in the water, Kishan was born naturally, but not without a supportive team of doctors, doulas, and my husband.<div><br /><div>Like I posted before, it took some digging to find doctors and hospitals that were pro-natural birth, pro-lactation, and pro-rooming in (<i>alojamiento conjunto</i>). The general term for this here in Mexico is <i>psicoprofiláxsis. </i>Below is a small list of resources I came across as I was researching having a natural birth in Mexico.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://psicoprofilaxis.org/">Psicoprofiláxsis Montaña</a> </div><div><a href="http://www.cepapar.org.mx/welcome.php">CEPAPAR (Centro de Educación para el Parto)</a></div><div><a href="http://www.pronatal.com.mx/home.html">Pronatal</a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><a href="http://www.anipp.org.mx/index.html">Asociación Nacional de Instructoras en Psicoprofiláxis Perinatal</a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a href="http://partohumanizado.org/">Parto Humanizado</a></span></div><div><a href="http://www.joninichols.com/">Plenitude</a> (Guadalajara)</div><div>Links to Mexico resources from <a href="http://www.midwiferytoday.com/international/mexico.asp">Midwifery Today</a></div><div><a href="http://www.llli.org/Mexico.html">La Liga de La Leche de Mexico</a></div><div><a href="http://www.medicasur.com.mx/swb/es_mx/Medica_Sur_Portal_/118">Hospital Medica Sur - Lomas</a> (women's hospital that specializes in maternity)</div><div><br /></div><div>The psicoprofiláxsis community is quite small here in Mexico, and nearly all of them have contacts in other cities besides DF if you can't find what you're looking for on your own.</div></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-32893799942240669232011-07-20T15:41:00.003-05:002011-07-20T15:51:43.614-05:00Welcome to the world, Kishan!<div style="text-align: left;">Born two weeks early, Kishan arrived on July 9, 2011 at 1:16 pm. Everyone's healthy and happy, except when there's gas :(</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNHm81ky4vYcTDDF48GlBCH-rNo613hBK_EmmPbjZPUlqrks3dHy5iH-ZOTbDH0ZULp2n9NdYe5l9po38hOMB-NIFFNHoxRSOZ9jbtQbn-RxjrcymiCegFjYc7U8LJmtuSmZYFcq77w6I/s400/DSC_0104.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631539701756098578" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-17589852758084132112011-07-05T11:13:00.003-05:002011-07-05T12:24:08.979-05:00Natural Birth in MexicoAccording to my lamaze teachers/doulas, caesarean sections account for nearly 85-90% of all hospital births here in Mexico City. Now, of the 85-90%, I don't know what the breakdown is for elective vs. necessary c-sections, but it's pretty apparent that women in the DF are having c-sections more than they should. To the point that there are coined words in the natural birthing community: <span style="font-style:italic;">cesariaólogo -- </span><span>a</span><span style="font-style:italic;"> </span><span>doctor who prefers c-sections -- </span>and <i>innecesaria</i>, in reference to the inordinate amount of c-sections that are performed without real medical need. <div><br /></div><div>In a country where obstetricians still attend labor from start to finish, natural birth can be a slow and not so financially rewarding procedure. From a cesariaólogo's point of view, it's not hard to see why c-sections are preferable: it takes 20 minutes and you don't lose sleep like you would attending a 20+ hour labor, you get paid more by insurance, and you're still be able to attend your other patients in the clinic. Actually, I've quickly learned that a tell-tale sign that your OB/GYN leans towards c-sections is that they always keep their appointments versus the natural birth doctors who are always having to cancel you to attend a labor.<div><br /></div><div>Much before I got pregnant and not realizing the kind of politics that go into having a baby here in Mexico, I blindly chose an OB/GYN through my insurance network. It seemed to work out great because my doctor was only a block away, she spoke English, and she guided us through some fertility issues we were having. But, once I got pregnant, I had an idea of what kind of labor and delivery I wanted: a natural one and probably one that included delivering in water. She seemed taken aback by the ideas I had in my head, and I quickly discerned that she was one of those: a <i>cesariaólogo</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Stunned by her reaction, I decided to search out a new doctor. Who knew that you had to fight so hard to do something your body was designed to do?? I realized that in a country where c-section is the norm, if you want and/or can have a vaginal birth (epidural or not), it is essential to find a doctor who respects that decision. Otherwise, you might get find yourself in the heat of the moment, succumbing to a doctor's advice that a c-section is necessary "for the health of you and the baby."</div></div><div><br /></div><div>I feel like such a rebel for seeking out a doctor who regards natural birth so highly, but it's just the unfortunate rate of c-section here that has me running to the other side like some kind of radical. Which I'm not. I just wanted a doctor who respects my body and what it can do.</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-469786341370004792011-06-14T08:55:00.005-05:002011-06-14T15:08:14.180-05:00Ode to Street Food<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinR5Fh96bH7AqPDJCkdg2EPjWgUJl4XuLisGMnHsAw4HwxS9pl770znekh9K7IO9bWhqUoNDSKdHR02vVhHsL0jtCHNYKY7UmGUo_qimAlbZUlQe2CVNanwkrpm2XMS0fXGJCLMpU10Eg/s1600/220px-Tejuino.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>Mexico City has a street food scene that rivals the best in the world. The street food is so good that it sits in my Top 3 things I'll miss most about Mexico, just behind tropical fruits and the weather. This video by MC Luka is a delicious ode to Mexico's street food, and if you know Mexico City, you'll recognize some or most of the sites. I'll be referring back to this video often when I'm sitting at home in street food-less Madrid, wishing for a freshly-pressed, hot <i>tortilla de masa</i> just off the comal.<div><br /><iframe width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-VKm3k7rzBI?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>There's a drink mentioned called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tejuino">Tejuino</a> that I've never tried because it's only found in certain states. Those of you in Jalisco and Guadalajara, what's Tejuino like? Recently, I saw someone on a travel show drinking it with a dollop of <i>nieve de limón</i>, to which the host described as tasting like a margarita. And, according to MC Luka, a great hangover drink, too?</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-57604345919074577552011-06-09T12:17:00.008-05:002011-06-09T13:20:09.576-05:00Moving onBaby's due date is only five weeks away, but there's a full moon coming next week that has me a little anxious that he/she will come earlier than expected. And friends here have also said it's not uncommon to go into labor early -- something about the high altitude. Probably an urban legend, but between the full moon <i>and</i> the high altitude, I'm gonna pack a hospital bag this weekend.<div><br /></div><div>Besides the impending life overhaul we're about to experience, there's been other BIG news. It's all sort of happening at the same time (not really my preference), but we are gearing up to leave Mexico after the baby arrives. :( Normally, couples move closer to family after having a baby, but we're going much further to <i>La Patria</i> -- Spain. Nick accepted a position within the same company but in the Madrid office.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've known for awhile, but I delayed sharing the news for several reasons. One, I've been wrapped up in the baby thing, and two, I find it hard to write that we are leaving. Our life here in Mexico has been special in so many ways despite the ups and downs of living in what is sometimes a very frustrating environment. We were married right before we moved down to Mexico, so being newlyweds in a new country has been an adventure that required us to lean on one another for support (especially on those days we had to make trips to the bank!). </div><div><br /></div><div>And, obviously, we've developed a community of friends who we'll miss dearly and a way of life that has grown comfortable. Sometimes I do envy the friends back home who've built their nests, speak the native language, and are surrounded by family, but this is the choice we've made. And despite asking myself (more now these days) "What in the world are you doing?" I know it's an opportunity that many only dream about. </div><div><br /></div><div>So once the baby arrives, we'll complete the mountain of paperwork to get him/her US citizenship and a passport, and soon after, we'll be embarking for Spain. I'm assuming this will be around September. It seems far enough away, but I know we won't be the boss of our time once the baby comes. My mind is jumbled with nostalgia and baby thoughts, so if this baby can hold off a few more weeks, I'm going to try and post more frequently.</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-32362494160613717342011-05-25T17:06:00.003-05:002011-05-25T18:42:44.084-05:00If in doubt, try Vermox Plus<div style="text-align: left;">Even after nearly three years here, our intestines are still very welcome hosts to a number of guests. Sometimes these parasites make a fast exit, but sometimes they stick around and prey on everything you eat. For up to years if you don't seek treatment.</div><div><br /></div><div>Earlier this year, Nick was having a very hard time getting rid of some parasites, and he decided to pay his first visit to the gastrointestinal doctor. After diagnosing Nick with a case of the amoebas, he prescribed a common amoeba and worm med called Vermox Plus. One dose of two pills, and <i>voilá</i>, he was cured!</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4Psn7xCOUsA4kx-z0s4It8FxX8KleqlM35R8mcYkXYGjF7342OhZ2KBZD2bPQHBLOiW-TMJ_vUm-Y6Be1EyCHz0CoxZpg_Jdt8sn7bRLbBKo6b9EzmX_Dw6VLTfn3093f78m7V1RLW8/s400/vermox-plus.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610792943490287794" /><div><br /></div></div><div>After hearing about some friends who take a course of Vermox every six months to purge themselves of any unwanted parasites, we thought it wasn't such a bad idea to do the same ($5 USD is a small price to pay compared to having to visit the GI doc every time you've got problems. And there are LOTS of problems.) In fact, Nick's parents said that when they were growing up in India, they would take a spoonful of castor oil every six months to flush out their intestinal tracts. I like the idea of natural castor oil, but be ready to take a day off of work!</div><div><br /></div><div>Obviously, Vermox doesn't cure all our stomach ailments, but I have to say that it has been pretty life-changing :). And with the hot weather and sub-par food storage practices, just imagine the kind of feast amoebas and worms are enjoying these days...</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-64279687518415723712011-05-03T09:28:00.011-05:002011-05-03T11:15:42.680-05:00Pregnancy myths debunked during babymoon<div style="text-align: left;">While we were away in Europe, I consulted several locals on the advice I'd been given about what not to do during pregnancy. Specifically, do the Dutch ride bikes while pregnant? Do pregnant women in France eat soft cheeses and drink red wine? Do Belgian pregnant women abstain from all the delicious beer? I wanted to be adventurous as was safely possible and have a gastronomically good time, so I thought it would be wise to hear what the locals had to say on these matters.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>#1 Do the Dutch ride bikes while pregnant?</b></div><div>Yes. One of the very charming things about the Dutch is that they LOVE their bikes. If you look around, you will find that the Netherlands and the Flemish regions of Belgium are some of the most bike-friendly place in the world. There are well-paved and well-marked bike lines not just in the city but all over the countryside, as well. But there's not a fear of falling? Who was I to ask in a city with the most wretched sidewalks in all the world?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz7SeyKMxp4gkvZQ0zvoqX5A5uPvF7IwP_ggvInrsNnYvd92cEqY9zhEeXoZpodQibrb9o-oqfFnlpchNhDOTI60w1gsomhj7f4t9uDTGuvgdPS1JZ218SYRdVW8LiRsfXEw56pMwUhVA/s400/DSC_0014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602514385209748002" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div>So, asking whether Dutch pregnant women ride bikes is like asking Mexican pregnant women if they eat corn tortillas. It's a way of life! And what to do about your little tots? Attach a big wooden crate to the front of your bike, and it becomes the family vehicle.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>#2 Do pregnant women in France eat soft cheeses and drink red wine?</b></div><div>Depends. Cheese that has been pasteurized is okay, and red wine is definitely okay in moderation. One night, we were presented with a plate of cheeses, one of which was an unpasteurized Roquefort, and I did not partake even though everyone at the table raved about it. I'm not usually one to heed pregnancy advice, but I also didn't want to be that girl who gave her baby some weird bacteria just because mama couldn't resist a little Roquefort. Another time.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>#3 Do Belgian pregnant women abstain from all the delicious beer?</b></div><div>No. In fact, our B&B host in Brugge said that during her stay in the hospital (an astounding 5 days!) she was given a trappist dark brew to facilitate lactation. That's how seriously Belgians believe in their beer. We became such fans of Belgian beer that we were willing to haul two (very heavy) six-packs of Westvleteren trappist beer back home.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.sintsixtus.be/eng/home.htm">Westvleteren</a> is considered the most secretive trappist brewery of the six in Belgium, and the only one where the monks are still involved in the day-to-day making of their beer, making it a special and prized drink if you can get your hands on one. It is considered Beer Advocate's #1 in all the world, and our baby will be one of the lucky ones to have a taste when he/she arrives!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1Fy7I1H2OqGfonjece0xezKbIlpA0IySp0GQSkyu6L1QlTT3krgXmuqOJ1z1iLCQfvTpOtK1QqwwMz2evg75BCD08qjX83eu5D-QslZoouoqY1M0gx0-BsKT0g2RsnumrHSoRmPAHqw/s400/DSC_0414.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602517279628527986" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The blond (8%) was good, but the dark (10%+) is the real deal. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wonder why the monks prefer such alcohol-laden brews?!?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We had such a fantastic time on our vacation, and whoever thought of a babymoon is genius. It was perfectly relaxing, memorable, and delicious. The chocolate, wine, beer, ice cream, waffles, fries, and pastries were divine (the heartburn afterward, not so much).</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZDAhi4W09eCTFpf5Gy-5aKfOxoDH6Emq51GmK9ocQtxJ9V4_zAqxvhPdaw8AsJVmfPBGKuTMBLcsbQC0EZUgftk6r14eiikGdTlfEWnHgRaT-OggUdJD8nXO7fdWho-S6qKv4XTS1Y10/s400/DSC_0043.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602517253101803762" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We planned our trip around the tulip season in the Netherlands, but so did everyone else in the world. It was madness.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-FAh2S0REDLWLCfAyUzeQtpBsQIex4GyDuSdM_2VyYwfCvDb1UrT35r48pL7EgluLj2z1aBkrQz5RtKz5sPivU9wy_qHnBvw_V7Jey1NIJ2GU4NNMcNa8Few4QExT7a5vN-wPaeRzKU/s400/DSC_0220.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602517273406588546" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Walking around Brugge is like being on the set of a medieval movie set</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:16px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXBMt6b8nt65DSd9U25RXL8opsfnYj2MVjoL4A79hUnL9LL9wB7P8may1gN2WJAwcM-hq8UK709ke-oOPE59WnuTgpkWwtOYek9ibiH-i8cu_dWRezBzfoMfdFmdCyUnmPmLV9dyhzDT0/s1600/DSC_0306.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXBMt6b8nt65DSd9U25RXL8opsfnYj2MVjoL4A79hUnL9LL9wB7P8may1gN2WJAwcM-hq8UK709ke-oOPE59WnuTgpkWwtOYek9ibiH-i8cu_dWRezBzfoMfdFmdCyUnmPmLV9dyhzDT0/s400/DSC_0306.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602517276792617250" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Brugge</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZTf-iczYmgkY9Jis0HUhlCfzZu9mUJadmh_lrobk-wZVLKueKg1gG0xxvbzoC6zU2mqJZ1KE4WestU8uawQ9HIVzspvv_MUoYW5AvMLkDittVO1mXh7Zq5KCjSgjbZcg7l0pYCnJSmo/s400/DSC_0499.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602521754470858162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Dutch love their bikes, and the French love their snails</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_eGOPZddgPbkP104yRbu4k5RQXpqsfBceGKSu9MvDqQsWD_vfDicafkjfnoBb4MSXtoVcyW2HqzmoSrNY6Y6Bm3mMmDAWSIxY55M_lPdPDhfRH0ayBATuDuV7N0S5YCUtdV_3uXJnDU/s1600/DSC_0527.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_eGOPZddgPbkP104yRbu4k5RQXpqsfBceGKSu9MvDqQsWD_vfDicafkjfnoBb4MSXtoVcyW2HqzmoSrNY6Y6Bm3mMmDAWSIxY55M_lPdPDhfRH0ayBATuDuV7N0S5YCUtdV_3uXJnDU/s400/DSC_0527.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602521765187345250" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's only appropriate to stay at a farmhouse B&B set in the rolling hills of France</span></span></span></div></span></span></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-67842601722868718182011-04-04T18:46:00.003-05:002011-04-04T19:32:22.591-05:00Piles of Pink Laundry<div>My sister-in-law was super generous to give us heaps and heaps of clothing for baby's first year. So I decided to go ahead and wash it all and sort through the sizes -- part of the <a href="http://www.parentingweekly.com/pregnancy/pregnancy-symptoms/nesting-instinct.htm">nesting phase</a>, I think, because I've been really into cleaning the house, too. According to the what I read about the nesting instinct, it begins around the 5th month until the time of labor with "sorting the baby's clothes over and over again as a favorite theme."</div><div><br /></div><div>Since my sister-in-law only had girls, she gave us a lot of pink, which means, if we have a boy, he will be our pink prince. Ain't nothin' wrong with boys wearing pink except when everyone starts saying how cute <b>SHE</b> looks. </div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxmKRN9gSnxc1O1hLi89L1dQi71GnY4OORHGjaKo-_HPg8ihBCaQPjtKwiwDlg3tcIavdjrlcWhpOpc_ShbAbgDrWnx9JceyZNqIWxFhhW-TyvKquwYNPr8HL4gXm3Kz7zwIJHkmo00c/s1600/DSCF0209.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxmKRN9gSnxc1O1hLi89L1dQi71GnY4OORHGjaKo-_HPg8ihBCaQPjtKwiwDlg3tcIavdjrlcWhpOpc_ShbAbgDrWnx9JceyZNqIWxFhhW-TyvKquwYNPr8HL4gXm3Kz7zwIJHkmo00c/s400/DSCF0209.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591879306836269090" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Oh, parents, what kind of laundry madness am I getting myself into? The dryer was like a bottomless pit of burp cloths and onesies!</span></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-61017830532692671502011-03-23T09:58:00.006-06:002011-03-23T10:33:26.417-06:00Cactus-shaped Accessories Present Interior Design Challenges<div style="text-align: left;">Nick's parents were in town this past weekend, and we made the obligatory stop at <i>La Ciudadela</i> handicrafts market so Nick's mom could grab a few gifts for the grandkids. It's an overwhelming place with rows and rows of the same thing, and usually the ladies love it and the men want to poke their eyes out with a thousand straight pins.</div><div><br /></div><div>But, look who came home with a "treasure". Nick had been eying a shopkeeper's cactus-shaped magazine holder, and unfortunately, the shopkeeper directed him to where he could buy his very own. Off Nick went -- two different times -- in search of his cactus until he proudly strolled up from "aisle 5" with this thing dangling from his hand. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBzoXTzPWTaKs_1CU8PEYaju4aPjraRKQTMzta3hDROWsQkOka570rEL2MPcErBO6K_BbYgQLHZ-If_O8msmvEXpPRmGlaYhEfw3ubZLyRmv8L4rVw_dRVHy6eGimMLCbTxa6IF4Hi_c/s1600/DSC_0005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBzoXTzPWTaKs_1CU8PEYaju4aPjraRKQTMzta3hDROWsQkOka570rEL2MPcErBO6K_BbYgQLHZ-If_O8msmvEXpPRmGlaYhEfw3ubZLyRmv8L4rVw_dRVHy6eGimMLCbTxa6IF4Hi_c/s400/DSC_0005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587305967511898514" /></a><div>It's cute...I guess. I was just thinking more along the lines of a colorful hand woven basket. And now, with the simple purchase of a cactus-shaped magazine holder, I feel like we've been thrusted into a decor scheme like this:</div><div><br /></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI-k99fSqwp18-qFBIz5ZUXLqa_3PTT5-4rZMvRKNlUSYwwh5QPZdkRKr5dsKozIXMSqC4pmr3ZFc7nH15-xv-Sx8V4iKXDiXqZp8JAFTG_tKsqnxHLEOiuKfW9dOu4p6P_qBInQiREvA/s1600/inside_big.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI-k99fSqwp18-qFBIz5ZUXLqa_3PTT5-4rZMvRKNlUSYwwh5QPZdkRKr5dsKozIXMSqC4pmr3ZFc7nH15-xv-Sx8V4iKXDiXqZp8JAFTG_tKsqnxHLEOiuKfW9dOu4p6P_qBInQiREvA/s400/inside_big.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587311326026770498" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 307px; " /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Rather than something more me, more bohemian, like this:</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDY8abXfbAe0YvHjfrv5SxUFBM2ReAlwbjcbgR5SBvmIgaa3WHoB4AzWvZG2agA1x2xacyi1IYlLEvk4v7YTAhYl5OmipC6MnpktfxP9_Vlj0dE1vVOPyjxBmqOsucRBY1cTpKNTI0pbA/s400/Canadian_house_MichaelGraydonDesiHollyDyment.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587311332445564770" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 400px; " /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2iliHdYxH5f3M5HQS8A_SDpImpme6RigdCtdri25ke8zWksQGI4nP8zmMGRSO3rew-SMUIBUu9iLGrHwKeucbVMKKFMt7GyDQ9YbXLH4XVvMLAy14InDdnRrnpd44sERxdboSp1LwFW8/s1600/Wary+Meyers+MoodboardBlog+on+FLickr.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2iliHdYxH5f3M5HQS8A_SDpImpme6RigdCtdri25ke8zWksQGI4nP8zmMGRSO3rew-SMUIBUu9iLGrHwKeucbVMKKFMt7GyDQ9YbXLH4XVvMLAy14InDdnRrnpd44sERxdboSp1LwFW8/s400/Wary+Meyers+MoodboardBlog+on+FLickr.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587311333943553842" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 252px; " /></a>Can the two be reconciled? Maybe what I'll do is cut the rope, reupholster the jute with a batik print, and paint the cacti aqua blue. :)</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-34982389083740511392011-03-14T11:01:00.005-06:002011-03-14T11:45:12.061-06:00March Mango Madness<div style="text-align: left;">The season came slightly early this year, and I started noticing mangoes in the market in early February. Normally, I'd expect them around this time in March, but I guess the mild winter has been good to the mangoes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDnMXOkXS7PypWCol1VV27RRAZbohLaxKWlYMSkReRefyXbXcQQDt_14dDgxThBB2_o_TpjBG2MTbhZrOfL_YhWVp-wCzAJSQoQVQDC5Tbb9QPb8iwCsyPihK11UrsU82SffRdEdDrr0U/s400/DSC_0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583983288852744354" /><div>One of the first pieces of advice I got from my mother-in-law was a warning that I shouldn't eat mangoes during pregnancy because they're a hot -- a heat-generating -- food, as opposed to cold-generating foods, like apples and bananas. That is, in eastern medicinal philosophy, conditions are classified as 'hot' or 'cold' and should be balanced with the relative hot or cold food. So with pregnancy being a 'hot' condition, I should be avoiding mangoes because they generate heat and could lead to complications like miscarriage. True? I have no idea.</div><div><br /></div><div>And, judging from the mound of mangoes in my fruit basket (and the raw fish I ate this weekend), I've not been following the dietary guidelines of pregnancy very well. And, I can already confirm with you now that I WILL be enjoying lots of soft cheeses and Flemish beers on our trip next month. </div><div><br /></div><div>The other indulgence that I only dream about in my head (because the bakery's in Houston) is the birthday cake I had last year at my niece's 1st birthday party. It is, hands-down, the best cake I've ever put in my mouth, and I savored that moment by eating 4 pieces of it. Last week, Nick did a very mean thing by digging through his jpeg vault and emailing me a picture of the cake. And, I, in turn, did a very mean thing to myself by making it my desktop photo. </div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-yvHjb2gMoUmw3S-pOuzhR7pqOJxscagUCeAZ6Z0E5RHIakD9B9mmChEd_DWK3Af1Az3_epAKddCTTl1P_AWGWmkGutVhqO3wUf1z0Rcw6BaB3RsR_wQJU8fnzqlxjgAGP2Bh-A2ntso/s400/kiran%2527s+cake.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583988553435884642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; " /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The next time I'm in Houston, I'm ordering this cake for myself, and the message will read, "Congratulations to me!"</span></span></span></div></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-54672715885560216822011-03-04T11:48:00.003-06:002011-03-04T12:19:07.878-06:00Learning FrenchWe're coming down to the final months before I should stop traveling by plane, and we've decided that our final big trip will be to Europe next month. Besides sitting under the Cancun sun like a beached whale, it seems Europe will be gentle on the body. And, oh the chocolate!<div><br /></div><div>Part of our trip will include driving through northern France, like around the region of Nord Pas de Calais on the France/Belgium border. And, for someone that enjoys learning new languages, it's kind of embarrassing for me to admit how little knowledge of French I possess. Seems like one of those languages you might pick up from pop culture, gastronomy, and travel, but I can't even tell you how to conjugate the most basic verb <i>to be.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>To avoid assuming everyone in the world speaks English by speaking loudly and slowly with big gestures, I am going to brave a crash course in French. In this next month leading up to our trip, I'm going to immerse myself in French and hope that Spanish helps me out a little (I'm always impressed by how easily the French learn Spanish and vice versa!). </div><div><br /></div><div>One of the new podcasts I downloaded to my iPod is called 'Coffee Break French'. Cheap (free) and cheerful! My goal is to learn basic grammar, basic nouns, verbs, and adjectives, learn how to ask for directions, and be able to order off a menu. And I'm going to work on a lovely French accent, too. </div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-54188646784598143452011-02-28T09:47:00.003-06:002011-02-28T10:56:42.471-06:00Super 99 Chinese Supermarket<div style="text-align: left;">There's a running list on our fridge for the goodies we'd like to purchase when we make visits back to the states. Comfort foods like Combos, but it's mostly a list of Asian food stuffs like dried mushrooms and sauces. There's a lot I can get here but, whew, if you saw the prices, you'd be hauling things back, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>Customs and I have had many encounters (especially over my insistence to bring in dried shrimp because, really, they do taste different from the dried shrimp you find here), but I find the hassle worthwhile compared with the mind-blowing cost of buying them here (bag of dried shrimp in the US: $1.89; same bag in Mexico: $120 pesos, or $10 USD).<div><br /></div><div>Something caught my eye the other day when I was down south near Coyoacán. As a friend and I zoomed by in the car, I saw some Chinese writing and what looked suspiciously like the symbol of the mega Chinese supermarket chain in California called Ranch 99. Except it wasn't Ranch 99; it was Super 99. Could it be?!?</div><div><br /></div><div>On Saturday, we saw it with our own eyes. Super 99 <b>IS</b> Ranch 99, and there were things in there I'd never laid eyes on before in Mexico. I saw dried lotus flowers, spiced tofus, pickled turnips, and the usual suspects like soy sauce, tofu, and seaweed. As you might expect, the prices were eye-piercing, but now there's no complaining about being unable to find this or that rare Chinese ingredient in DF. </div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3BNfsaaAQKvQNMwsGSuKb0K2sikhFQ_UXk4S8D755qjjv2k802v4nT1CsE-Oramvlkh0XCpj9HbJsvu8wVOeQMfewrw0lnbvgl7RHs0ZmztT9tKBmovDB7DoZgn4Z14U3payUP0qe76A/s400/DSC_0180.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578780861069417554" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; ">A chaotic exterior is a must</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><br /></span></div><div>At least until they close their doors. I mean, how many people in DF are looking for pickled turnips? And, from the look of their "fresh" vegetables, I can't say many people are flocking to Super 99. But I'll support them because I support a good effort. And I find the funky smell of Asian grocery stores oddly comforting.</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFxdllfnwUFLFOxDqXAXkt6vUEcrk7OlMYbAfTdbQdCViYTyJcz5xaTYsXCHK_Xi_3f98wahHUSihvUav7bSxWKBzxciru2sLrNI4hiAHLkQzY-E_JRHirLwDwUTAIKIPSwMqmKeX92s/s1600/DSC_0184.JPG"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFxdllfnwUFLFOxDqXAXkt6vUEcrk7OlMYbAfTdbQdCViYTyJcz5xaTYsXCHK_Xi_3f98wahHUSihvUav7bSxWKBzxciru2sLrNI4hiAHLkQzY-E_JRHirLwDwUTAIKIPSwMqmKeX92s/s1600/DSC_0184.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFxdllfnwUFLFOxDqXAXkt6vUEcrk7OlMYbAfTdbQdCViYTyJcz5xaTYsXCHK_Xi_3f98wahHUSihvUav7bSxWKBzxciru2sLrNI4hiAHLkQzY-E_JRHirLwDwUTAIKIPSwMqmKeX92s/s400/DSC_0184.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578780874548722706" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></a></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVx0fuDJErwK3geAAb0HmG4UwxYEJhTfVTgfZYYSi1H2ymVrNfvqNR9OoHO3rXAyCttEPceNPqXvBt9eel09gZat-VHAK6fnjYZDlMnXgP9M-A2AJunpLSSwycX1cSDX3423dVCvZY04/s400/DSC_0181.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578780863603661842" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFfcdd4IwTmnBdLlBviVgHYCu7jbST4rAmTHd_TvPRoa-mrHMVc9enRMtNE9Oi7MWtXWQSzV44akNlcEJCMqCAVuMvgD-LTw058ZUWT9MIXoq4bn6_8YJE-wkKUO0xJ5yeXwp_3V6B8Y/s1600/DSC_0182.JPG"></a></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFfcdd4IwTmnBdLlBviVgHYCu7jbST4rAmTHd_TvPRoa-mrHMVc9enRMtNE9Oi7MWtXWQSzV44akNlcEJCMqCAVuMvgD-LTw058ZUWT9MIXoq4bn6_8YJE-wkKUO0xJ5yeXwp_3V6B8Y/s400/DSC_0182.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578780870299307426" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></div><div>Address: Miguel Angel de Quevedo 310, Colonia Santa Catarina (one block south of Coyoacán's beautiful Calle Francisco Sosa)</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-15860644488449932152011-02-02T14:37:00.006-06:002011-02-02T19:17:01.033-06:00Can't Stop Eating!!<div style="text-align: left;">Yesterday I googled "always hungry second trimester" to see if my ravenous hunger was something many women experience during pregnancy. And, yes, it is. It hits very suddenly. Like the feeling that if I don't ingest something in the next 10 minutes, I might pass out.</div><div><br /></div><div>So when I'm out I'm apt to carrying around one or two snacks with me because, believe you me, there are quite a few tempting and not-so-healthy options out there on the street. Like the torta stand outside my apartment -- it takes WILLPOWER to not want one of those sandwiches mounded with 5 different kinds of processed meats, 2 kinds of cheese, and smothered in mayo. Or the hamburger stand that billows with the char-broiled goodness of ground beef sizzling on the grill. Good thing Wendy's is a 15 minute walk away because I'd be over there everyday for a Frosty if it were closer!</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiAtA4F3sa9NsWyQtQMA4NDOUB2NkxIk-A2hDZajLSUPhAy-QkWImS66QHSHwIgmZvCKVVJR-EHzLf9opQFjWplyWEvzjAqTSM3cjTA84_i5eXus8kyt6RdFlPU9H6eMRq56jZxobYPMI/s400/3262553594_3689053aba_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569204481313440594" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Photo by Flickr user <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/scaredykat/3262553594/">Scaredy_kat</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>What I've found on the street to be quite nutritious are the amaranth, peanut, and pumpkin seed bars sold on the street. It's a stretch to say I LOVE them when I could be having a torta, but they are generally tasty and filling when in a pinch. The <i>alegria</i> bars -- the ones with just amaranth -- I find super unappealing, but the <i>palanquetas</i> -- the bars with nuts -- I like as long as they don't break my teeth. I might even be inspired to make them at home using this <a href="http://forkfingerschopsticks.com/pumpkin-seeds-mexican-peanut-pumpkin-seed-brittle-palanquetas/">recipe</a>. Looks easy enough with just five ingredients.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroTWht8LkyKScAJVPU62kcpl9D53BaHsve3mn6QR0R41cxzWkMapqxxfcPjWpb8GZ2mf0ru1d0tnBCq3CtBfm57zqHsYkN8NUikdcKGLqWI_xc26P2alDZCnBplN28cJZ4BABu6SeVs4/s1600/IMG_1773.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroTWht8LkyKScAJVPU62kcpl9D53BaHsve3mn6QR0R41cxzWkMapqxxfcPjWpb8GZ2mf0ru1d0tnBCq3CtBfm57zqHsYkN8NUikdcKGLqWI_xc26P2alDZCnBplN28cJZ4BABu6SeVs4/s400/IMG_1773.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5569203201884431874" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">You see what I mean? These things won't send you in a tizzy of excitement like a torta might.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>But say it ain't so that healthy eating on the street confines one to nut bars. Is there such a thing as a healthy taco? Or what's a quesadilla like without all that cheese? <i>Déjame investigar</i>, but I can't say that I'm that optimistic.</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-53671845338573817792011-01-19T07:55:00.006-06:002011-01-19T09:07:23.520-06:00Good News!Well, hello there! It's been a long time. So where do I begin? Most of the past month was spent in Texas with family, enjoying our parents, siblings, and nieces. It's usually the only time of year that everyone's together, even if it is just for a day or two. One of my brothers spends half the year in Africa, so for my mom, especially, having him home for the holidays is really special.<div><br /></div><div>The upside to having both parents in the same city is we never have to divide up the holidays or fly to different cities to see each set of parents. The only difficult thing -- and it's really not so terrible -- is having to choose whose house to stay at that night, for how long, and where we're eating dinner. In fact, I think the decision of where to eat dinner trumps all the other decisions. Because our mothers have thought long and hard about just what to make on those special days. That chicken curry that no one else can make as good as Mom, the special herbal soup that will detox us of Mexico City's pollution, or the pan-fried noodles that Nick loves and that my mom loves him for loving. </div><div><br /></div><div>But the holidays isn't really what was so special this year... Just before the holidays, we learned that we are expecting our first baby!! :) Just before we moved to Mexico, we got married, and we always had it in our head to start our family here. However, the outlook looked dim as we realized having a baby wasn't as easy as just saying so. It took a lot of time, but we're both overjoyed to be joining the club -- is it really true that you'll never sleep again?? <i>sigh...</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Right now, we're navigating our way through the process of having a baby in Mexico. It requires talking to lots of people, hearing their experiences, and deciding what kind of birthing plan we'd like. C-section is very common here, and using a midwife is something most people here deem antiquated and left to the indigenous. It's like we've made having a baby too technologically advanced.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last week, I was catching up on my back issues of National Geographic, and one of the articles was about the Aztecs. A few years ago, archaeologists in Mexico City's downtown ruin, <i>Templo Mayor</i>, unearthed a stone carving of the Aztec earth goddess, Tlaltecuhtli, squatting to give birth. (You can find the story in the <a href="http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2010/11/greatest-aztec/draper-text">November 2010 issue</a>. She's actually devouring the dead to give them new life, but whatever, I like that she's squatting!) So while everyone pushes me to lay down in bed, get an epidural, or go for a c-section, I'm going to remember that even goddesses had to pain their way through childbirth. </div><div><br /></div><div>Many of you out there in bloglandia are mothers, and I would love to hear your stories. There's a lot to learn before July 22nd.</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-85637772803970393552010-12-02T09:53:00.010-06:002010-12-02T11:08:50.573-06:00Field Trip to the East Side<div style="text-align: left;">Very early last Saturday, we met a friend on the east side of town -- the Neza municipality, if you know these parts. There aren't any high-rise, shiny glass buildings or anything of brand name. What you'll mostly find are simple cement homes housing the family business: snack shops, comida corrida restaurants, and car shops. Brilliant, I think, to live and work in the same place! The original work-from-home scheme. It's the way many Mexicans live but a world in which we know so little about living in our foreigner-friendly neighborhood. So, when the opportunity arises to see a different face of Mexico, I welcome it. Plus, you never know what fantastic food finds you might encounter.</div><div><br /></div><div>We needed our car checked, and if there's one really good thing about the east side, it's the abundance of men who know how to fix cars. Even at 8 am on a Saturday morning, when there wasn't much going on in a usually crowded and vibrant area such as Neza, there were men everywhere fixing their cars. Oh, and if you ever wondered where the microbuses/peseros (small, green buses that terrorize the city) are maintained (they're maintained, you ask?!?), just go to Neza and take a look. Unfortunately, besides car guys and carts selling tamales and atole, I didn't get to see much. I think the real shenanigans start in the evening when the sun goes down.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMobnwY4OGRI8n8CP5oFmOh-97-yi3tkyOUqrNwqtXQ8RriIOjxD_EOTjF1Te3HHGrhzPFeXaZ3hY-uMZ2gsKUee2KGG9X3Ck9ZhfAfzFqEpCl0uKNMeuRHNky1FvbcB5_ekpJEjAGEE/s400/Image004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546121111986632674" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></div><div>This photo I took in Neza is something of a cultural curiosity to me. I've seen it many times before in various parts of the city -- the lack of attention to spelling. On you-can't-take-it-back permanent signage, no less. As a teacher, it makes me wonder how much schools here stress spelling?? We are sticklers for it in the US. I recognize the difficulty in distinguishing between <i>v </i>and <i>b</i>, but seriously, c'mon people, <i>fabor</i>? </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLoUxFAYqKMVYrP7gb9LAGWf0Z7y4NDQfgVjkhMuDPn7tAQv8CI3p2qqCxb8SEN6ltQhxil623DtFbfwVkcjpeiOfXZ3kVo1rF9qk1ui5MMs4KeBn5FzbBi9Np1sa_5IoDfWhl3kxkww/s400/pesero.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546128463819817074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">By golly, these things do get repaired sometimes. Photo taken from the blog </span><a href="http://elanalfabeta.blogspot.com/2008/01/peseros-al-grito-guerra.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">El Analfabeta</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, where the caption reads, "</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Pesero - Pequeño autobús que no cumple con ninguna regla de seguridad</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">." ("Pesero - Small bus that doesn't comply with any security measures.") I love the thrill, but it's a miraculous feat to step off these alive.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:small;"><br /></span></div></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-71735895363318671492010-11-23T08:14:00.003-06:002010-11-23T11:12:47.318-06:00Green Juice<div>Fresh juice stands are ubiquitous in Mexico City. For a mere $20 pesos ($1.63 USD), you can enjoy an entire liter of fresh-squeezed orange juice from oranges squeezed right in front of you. If you've ever made your own juice or smoothie, you know how impossible it is to exactly estimate a cupful. Always a tad leftover, no? Jamba Juice would never do something like this, but here in Mexico the juice man will fill your cup, ask you to take several sips, and fill it full again. Which means I always get my thirst quenched <i>before</i> I even leave the stand.</div><div><br /></div><div>Some juice stands specialize in blends, like a blend for diabetes or a blend for high blood pressure. One of the most popular juices is the blood-red <i>vampiro </i>drink made from the juice of beets, oranges, carrot, and celery. My new favorite, though, is green juice. Literally called <i>jugo verde</i>. It's a blend of orange juice, pineapple, celery, nopal, and parsley. And it goes down a little pulpy with the perfect hint of sweet and tart (and grassiness from the parsley). If you're like me and are always battling the digestive forces in your stomach, this is a good one. It should really be renamed something more appropriate like <i>fibre fuerte.</i></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVazmcteeEXH1rSBYKYXiDQ6onm8tH2ULx_0kMZtsfvgdmuah6mkQipx6h9KLrfhVn_b3G8wRv13kgwSVlqGrPN_KI7O1GU8RO5_b7WyCj9SZD9uWWnIn5JVptks-FcYWcS6fyTEttE2w/s1600/DSC_0035.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVazmcteeEXH1rSBYKYXiDQ6onm8tH2ULx_0kMZtsfvgdmuah6mkQipx6h9KLrfhVn_b3G8wRv13kgwSVlqGrPN_KI7O1GU8RO5_b7WyCj9SZD9uWWnIn5JVptks-FcYWcS6fyTEttE2w/s400/DSC_0035.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541356912243147410" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 400px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Such a lovely shade of green!</span></div><div><br /></div></span>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-22320413466984176082010-11-08T10:08:00.006-06:002010-11-08T11:18:21.047-06:00Out with the cold. In with a portable heater and kimchiAs you know, most homes in Mexico don't have central air or heating. That means finding natural ways to adapt. In the summer, it's wearing as little clothing as we can get away with and sitting near the fan; in the winter, it's drinking lots of hot drinks and wearing heavy jackets and hats in the house. While it's not quite winter yet here, it sure does feel like it at night. Last week it got down to 1˚C! <div><br /></div><div>We'd been holding out for some time, grinning and bearing the cold like everyone else, but this weekend, we caved and purchased a portable heater for the living room. Many others had the same idea, and the heater aisle at Home Depot was buzzing with people out buying their first heater. I felt very guilt for putting it in the cart, as the eco-nut in me was resisting the purchase. But now that it's in the house, we vow to only use it on unbearably cold nights when our fingers can't move and we can't sleep. On the other days, we'll keep adapting naturally.</div><div><br /></div><div>FYI, one of the upsides to having cold temperatures like this is that, if you're into kimchi (the Korean fermented spicy cabbage), 2-7˚C is the perfect temperature to achieve and maintain a delicious kimchi. Instead of storing it underground like they do in Korea, all I'll need to do is set it out on the counter and let the cold weather do its magic. If you want a good recipe, click <a href="http://www.maangchi.com/recipe/kimchi-kaktugi">here</a>.</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-65499888827985493822010-10-27T08:25:00.008-05:002010-10-27T09:40:12.890-05:00From the depths of cultural prejudice we get lard<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In most parts of the world, no one bats an eyelash when recipes call for heaping tablespoons of solid fat, whether it be butter, ghee (clarified butter used in Indian cuisine), or lard. I had a friend in high school who used to bring chickpea patties smothered in ghee for lunch, and the sight of solid fat going straight into her mouth was so revolting to me that I can still remember it nearly 15 years later.</span></div><div><div><br /></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WwiZgfzr3kY/TMgsp9HA8vI/AAAAAAAAAuw/R_KcwDuKnM4/s1600/lardDSC_2263.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WwiZgfzr3kY/TMgsp9HA8vI/AAAAAAAAAuw/R_KcwDuKnM4/s400/lardDSC_2263.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532721241514898162" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Photo by: </span><a href="http://homesicktexan.blogspot.com/2008/05/how-to-render-lard.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Homesick Texan</span></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Now I'm an olive oil kind of girl. I buy it bulk at Costco, and even if I'm supposed to be using a higher temperature oil for stir frying, I most always use olive oil. Despite learning that canola oil is an equally good cooking oil, I've maintained my loyalties to olive oil. Why? I'm not really sure except to say that I've been brainwashed into thinking olive oil is </span><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">the</span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> only oil to use.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Recently, however, I've been realizing that I need to just get over my American vanity and step into the realm of cooking with solid fats. If most of the world cooks this way, then I'm thinking something is probably wrong with the way we Americans dissect our food down to the kind of fat it should be cooked in. I already know things taste better cooked in butter or lard, and perhaps that's why my </span><a href="http://wagamamawonderings.blogspot.com/2009/06/homemade-street-food.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">homemade tlacoyos</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> never tasted that good. </span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">On our trip to Buenos Aires, I took a cooking class where I learned how to make empanadas. Most of the group was American, and when the teacher started spooning lard into the pastry dough, we collectively shrieked. Then, someone asks, "So how much lard should we put in there?" (We Americans like to know exactly how much fat we're ingesting, no?)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"Oh, you know. Just enough to make the dough soft," she replies. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdaab2JKErqZ_MZjAds_ssDKwl-WEYO2d9Oj8JlFqQVuAUZrAs2T_s2mWEhz0xvnNBvm8KJy4TEHTf6nL_tQX2EBjGZuspVxaw5Kxhu6uQX6JnRTZGO4s_CGIWb7kzwFqx1NWx5Yx0F4E/s400/DSC_0251.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532729323763137954" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Beef empanadas made with a generous helping of lard</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">At that moment, between the shrieks and looks of disgust, I started to feel sympathy towards the misunderstood lard. I like to maintain as healthy a diet as the next person, but do I want to be that person that disregards hundreds of years of traditional cooking based on a cultural prejudice? It's not always about the calories.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So, to be true to the art of cooking and, well, living, I'm going to start keeping lard in the fridge and won't feel bad about it. If someone asks what's inside those delicious empanadas, I'm going to proudly tell them I used lard. And that cake? Two sticks of butter, thank you very much.</span></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-1144564413112469392010-10-14T09:07:00.005-05:002010-10-14T10:02:34.395-05:00Get your paws off my bag!For all the <i>malas noticias</i> about the dangers of Mexico, I'd like to report that our first encounter with thuggery happened in Buenos Aires. The last time we came here, I <a href="http://wagamamawonderings.blogspot.com/2009/11/meeting-mafalda-in-buenos-aires.html">glowed</a> about how safe it was -- how I could walk down the street without having to bear-hug my bag -- but I take it back. <div><br /></div><div>Nick and I were walking through a very nice neighborhood on Monday, and I felt something wet spray across my back. A man walked up from behind to warn me about water dripping from an awning. Really? It sprayed horizontal, sir, like from your direction. The man tried to reach out and show me where I got wet, but I immediately got in attack mode, and started yelling. Something about the situation didn't seem right. I called his bluff, identified the squirt bottle hidden in his right hand, and told him to get away. And he ran across the street behind a car like a scared cat. Yeah, that's right, don't mess with Asian girls -- we may be small, but we can be vicious! And, FYI, this Asian girl doesn't have any <a href="http://www.entrepreneur.com/tradejournals/article/164421461.html">Louis Vuitton</a> or anything even close, so take your eyes and your paws off my bag, and move along. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, the moral of today's post is: crime is everywhere. But you knew that already, right? Even in this charming, Paris-of-Latin-America, you can never hold your bag too tight.</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-31802855014126537682010-10-04T09:30:00.005-05:002010-10-04T10:40:19.326-05:00Sunday Tianguis in Colonia Popo<div style="text-align: left;">We've been dining <i>al fresco </i>lately on the roof garden, and yesterday during breakfast, Nick eyed the red and pink <i>lonas</i>, or tarps, that are characteristic of only one thing: a tianguis (from the Nahuatl word, <i>tianquiztli</i>, for day market). I turned my head left, <i>lonas</i>. Turned my head right, <i>lonas.</i> This was a tianguis of enormous proportion -- and two blocks away.</div><div><br /></div><div>The joy I get from going to the tianguis is kind of unexplainable. Why I get so excited about mangos or leafy greens or guavas, I don't know, but there are perhaps a few of you who can understand. We are the types that buy beyond what we can eat, then go home and proudly display everything on the counter like we've just purchased pieces of fine art. When the spouse comes home and sees the harvest, he/she asks, "Don't we already have like<b> <i>fifty</i></b> other types of cheese/chilis/bread?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Each tianguis is unique in what they offer. Some focus on fruits and vegetables; others do food stalls, furniture, antiques, <a href="http://mx.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20061124134005AAEY85K">cars</a>, etc. Ours is more like a US strip mall -- it has a little of everything with over 300 stalls spanning about 10 streets. Here is what's inside our strip mall:</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2O-DSjji-AOL5FHcjJu3NRq3kqpEB7VHhujGV_xtu57CwCmRCkIj0fMFkPSxg37bNo1Zu-SxI6EA0ilsTEwSS5hgjKCkBTi30Kgz5l3OW4uJtFcOo_2mhZ0SOvQO5EOMtWBirmiGFQuA/s1600/DSCF1993.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2O-DSjji-AOL5FHcjJu3NRq3kqpEB7VHhujGV_xtu57CwCmRCkIj0fMFkPSxg37bNo1Zu-SxI6EA0ilsTEwSS5hgjKCkBTi30Kgz5l3OW4uJtFcOo_2mhZ0SOvQO5EOMtWBirmiGFQuA/s400/DSCF1993.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524208341087128530" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 400px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Walgreens</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6PEOquSEAF40dpEjKxeLKzYa-0PRSmB9ovLkotuVG77s1KgATSfz8VqNFl2JBCfargcUbcGfrdON94Y6GRwe2qSEU6qYPlfGeKa3eZ1hqM52n1lpC-9OXpCmo6wJ9_u3AoEat3yY1C4/s1600/DSCF1991.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6PEOquSEAF40dpEjKxeLKzYa-0PRSmB9ovLkotuVG77s1KgATSfz8VqNFl2JBCfargcUbcGfrdON94Y6GRwe2qSEU6qYPlfGeKa3eZ1hqM52n1lpC-9OXpCmo6wJ9_u3AoEat3yY1C4/s400/DSCF1991.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524208336081990658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Goodwill</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4sjuQMEMJ_y2Ur9i-c6P4ynRw0Ij6Jk9Q6_mLvSVEL2Z4LpdgbaWsETuLaHaRmGjYAa1uw6FW7ke_RwsNhop219HtZ9XugLQUya0UE5rxNf6jFu0ChCd6UAD47DMza7z6tXn62Ja2fAs/s400/DSCF2000.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524209118427483666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pro-Cuts</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPr6N3WQPRbb0C7dEojOMju41pd6f1nKcy_UXWAggCSd69S0QP8jl7RaxMXDri8jS1r_Mb-FeqW7yeFKRjXQzWGSqrZlv6yzibqUzzfEWdLpdufXz_WeIg2Hv_u2kYS4pL878mtxPunE/s1600/DSCF2002.JPG"></a></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEO1iyD0EVAV3jZ1avNgd-JwreYpIxynWYreWY-JB6BbbGPKA0hDztiFDK00Rme1JdN07dIF2P_CBtLxaNHwqWeoMf6riFgZGFK5eMj0JVmggwXu7Y_y8PO5wOd_rlJ2S54ZSO1phlRRk/s400/DSCF1998_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524209107796614914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Krispy Kreme (actually not donuts but mini gorditas de nata)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPr6N3WQPRbb0C7dEojOMju41pd6f1nKcy_UXWAggCSd69S0QP8jl7RaxMXDri8jS1r_Mb-FeqW7yeFKRjXQzWGSqrZlv6yzibqUzzfEWdLpdufXz_WeIg2Hv_u2kYS4pL878mtxPunE/s1600/DSCF2002.JPG"></a></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_6UdAp-GJEXdTESalU3d4fJFSMqOOA3mOzvzZgNEJfgjY4JtfJPw7cJGLdJxKESbmjwx-CqXh7GTRsO32Ar2sZp3x0i35WKJdOrV1Hi2uwcZbLgtnmEovn8aGtLPDrovrYTbzuBb_d8/s400/DSCF1996.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524209106060539634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sally's Beauty Supply</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPr6N3WQPRbb0C7dEojOMju41pd6f1nKcy_UXWAggCSd69S0QP8jl7RaxMXDri8jS1r_Mb-FeqW7yeFKRjXQzWGSqrZlv6yzibqUzzfEWdLpdufXz_WeIg2Hv_u2kYS4pL878mtxPunE/s1600/DSCF2002.JPG"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPr6N3WQPRbb0C7dEojOMju41pd6f1nKcy_UXWAggCSd69S0QP8jl7RaxMXDri8jS1r_Mb-FeqW7yeFKRjXQzWGSqrZlv6yzibqUzzfEWdLpdufXz_WeIg2Hv_u2kYS4pL878mtxPunE/s1600/DSCF2002.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPr6N3WQPRbb0C7dEojOMju41pd6f1nKcy_UXWAggCSd69S0QP8jl7RaxMXDri8jS1r_Mb-FeqW7yeFKRjXQzWGSqrZlv6yzibqUzzfEWdLpdufXz_WeIg2Hv_u2kYS4pL878mtxPunE/s400/DSCF2002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524209123640908322" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 293px; height: 400px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Guacamolería/Aguacatería</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">Nick came down with mall-itis and became disorientated at the sight of all that there was to buy. So, probably, on future Sundays, I'll leave him to watch football while I gorge myself on fruits and vegetables and barbacoa tacos. </div></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-15316005379295120202010-09-27T14:35:00.012-05:002010-09-30T10:36:13.989-05:00Deluxe Apartment in the Sky<div style="text-align: left;">I've moved nearly every two years for the past 13, but something about making a move within Mexico City had me out of sorts. I was having meltdowns, forgetting important events, and making crazy talk. And, a few things happened -- unrelated to the move -- that triggered my angry button. Finally, though, we're all moved in, and we are hooked up with all our utilities, cable, internet, a new fridge, microwave, and washer/dryer (I've never had a washer/dryer in my apartment, so I am over-the-moon excited about doing laundry).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The linguistic debilitation that I thought would happen never came to pass, although I highly recommend studying this <a href="http://www.learn-spanish-smart.com/polite-phone-spanish.html">link</a> and this <a href="http://www.learn-spanish-smart.com/spanishphonephrases.html">one</a> before attempting polite phone conversations in Spanish. Because phone Spanish just ain't what they say on the streets. In fact, I think customer service derives great pleasure in finding ways to complicate phrases like "Who's calling?" into "With whom do I have the great pleasure and luxury of speaking with today?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Of the new words I learned during the move, the word <i>volado </i>appeared a lot. I believe it derives from the verb <i>volar (</i>to fly), and it refers to the act of doing this:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubKJWvHc-oKAIJJIokOk54LF-vDEerzC-rGF6hJaFZv2uKNQrYFOfZQcjf19x4mHk7NcAK7LCyKrtBmMFhkkwmvyBnfwR_YFTQN9v9WOGEHBp1R2pk5aNWBe6u2FoTi0Tc0Noo9WbtII/s400/DSC_0046.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522484944817207506" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Hoisting objects up or down the side of a building</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoTl_wGpYEXuMyUWDCHcJ9uRR0COkilrxOKZF7iYUuSSm5y8SNe0EIPeZi76dIhj7hPzNcnV6O27iEVPSMZPeb0hw6mIU80Eh8d16afdgoQm2o-IvxByqKuqi3xugBPbzCALPmszRNNE/s1600/DSC_0049.JPG"></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoTl_wGpYEXuMyUWDCHcJ9uRR0COkilrxOKZF7iYUuSSm5y8SNe0EIPeZi76dIhj7hPzNcnV6O27iEVPSMZPeb0hw6mIU80Eh8d16afdgoQm2o-IvxByqKuqi3xugBPbzCALPmszRNNE/s1600/DSC_0049.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAoTl_wGpYEXuMyUWDCHcJ9uRR0COkilrxOKZF7iYUuSSm5y8SNe0EIPeZi76dIhj7hPzNcnV6O27iEVPSMZPeb0hw6mIU80Eh8d16afdgoQm2o-IvxByqKuqi3xugBPbzCALPmszRNNE/s400/DSC_0049.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522484955175997138" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Like our way-too-big couch that we will be cutting in half the next time we move</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Figuring out how to get the couch into the apartment was a feat of engineering, and the good 'ol folks at </span><a href="http://www.mudanzasgou.com.mx/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Mudanzas Gou</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> (whom I 100% recommend if you need to move in, out, or within Mexico) carried it up 15 flights of stairs to the roof and lowered it one floor to our apartment on the 14th floor. Do we sound like the Jeffersons?? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Well we're movin on up, t</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">o the east side. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">To a deluxe apartment in the sky." </span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRUhZc4rs8ipfrS1m227fb45TplqzzP6aTUKCZahYD8qv8xnraQCHtG_rv5Nc7w5VAGN2fwARSwjJiLOT2YTlTmmrdsRFc2SDIIWiQr0Rpv3-8lIg4_V-LHKDasAniWTyMTKKOL_M5fTI/s400/DSC_0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522706392525602994" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In the daytime, you can see the mountains to the north of Mexico City. Better than that, you can see the traffic whirring around you, but you don't hear it! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9siPLQYR_vtr7KeMtuA-zhpP1_uBRRnJrGDzd5MHw3L0a0ijRNKe4qz1B-cGrPwthrYkNm8M5ZMFSiGGQg6D6X7f5gIh24cUccpdJBoC6T95OVdLERqkp6Qq7wMMNaSNpIhRFWoNz-M/s1600/DSC_0005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9siPLQYR_vtr7KeMtuA-zhpP1_uBRRnJrGDzd5MHw3L0a0ijRNKe4qz1B-cGrPwthrYkNm8M5ZMFSiGGQg6D6X7f5gIh24cUccpdJBoC6T95OVdLERqkp6Qq7wMMNaSNpIhRFWoNz-M/s400/DSC_0005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522706174192953810" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The view at night is something pretty spectacular.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/p9y4iXAso4I?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/p9y4iXAso4I?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-34841029544793189662010-09-13T18:52:00.006-05:002010-09-13T19:42:25.128-05:002010 Mexico City Fun-a-thon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXTn38IqarxhE0nEW3VJLt1nHNQPvGDVPgPynMr2BEVFrvxuStA3XccMkWKlNzD7S6Ft2v276g1GagvUwM1T1GU06srRfi9Pl_tc7WD9V0qR1R8PoF5feT4YDQog9NB6yLa0CRHA4OOA/s1600/DSC_0076.JPG"></a><div style="text-align: left;">"Should we bring the camera?" Nick asks before we head out to the street to watch the marathon.</div><div><br /></div><div>"OK, let's bring it," I say.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Well, what are you going to do with pictures of people running?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"OK, let's not bring it."</div><div><br /></div><div>But, the moment I saw someone run by with a wig on, I ran back inside and grabbed the camera. If there were wigs, there'd probably be costumes. And there were. And many other non-traditional marathon sightings: activists, clowns, Mary lovers, and a generous helping of patriotism. We foreigners like to say "Only in Mexico" when we see the occasional oddity, but, really, I do believe marathons like this exist ONLY in Mexico.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQDLI8_fiizSmEY8G03SJz6E1PD7hAgtuOyJUS8Yiz5mlL9YcfDQAZ43VOi0MAqsm2fswSlpxpiIUreb6FuQ_V36tGWcFr_sGo8tBjrsrLPPwzQqEsnedOWMDJ4zBuRookRKB4Yd-rpkg/s400/DSC_0001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516552799120906962" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYhve4WChTTyqIRaNtfzOdCXdSt3bdg51duYnDb8gX1XFlWABOZGVKpQI8a69MBOYnLnNhtT5J_IZwqY0GwixVt7OK_kdh_2k37lQBS8-0Oun6sV7efG215u8B3U3HNyv6uVQX-B1br8/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG"></a></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmR1WZhXCPw5TPbBWvxvckg8cOVm-IHdPHdSFv1BxcVBmzuQyd3k4w-yi7j3T1yJdnQ6x7BXAojHX24gDRVwbhCrlPn4mN7g0pH1SMUL-EnzVNrpPtcR9aAaRwf6LTIAYFuqhHCPOmcgU/s400/DSC_0026.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516552809532286386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYhve4WChTTyqIRaNtfzOdCXdSt3bdg51duYnDb8gX1XFlWABOZGVKpQI8a69MBOYnLnNhtT5J_IZwqY0GwixVt7OK_kdh_2k37lQBS8-0Oun6sV7efG215u8B3U3HNyv6uVQX-B1br8/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG"></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYhve4WChTTyqIRaNtfzOdCXdSt3bdg51duYnDb8gX1XFlWABOZGVKpQI8a69MBOYnLnNhtT5J_IZwqY0GwixVt7OK_kdh_2k37lQBS8-0Oun6sV7efG215u8B3U3HNyv6uVQX-B1br8/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYhve4WChTTyqIRaNtfzOdCXdSt3bdg51duYnDb8gX1XFlWABOZGVKpQI8a69MBOYnLnNhtT5J_IZwqY0GwixVt7OK_kdh_2k37lQBS8-0Oun6sV7efG215u8B3U3HNyv6uVQX-B1br8/s400/DSC_0032.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516552828073639042" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5Row5iGUYP_ChvHmjZVQPcWHXFP_SX7ye4latk7Ao_8KMkzhrlL3-GN6HRVKQResxrdFGlKT2iUjYZ3HA1HMMt0Ef-VIxCIDI0Ny2hexAuSVWC9mMB-quS3p6pwMUwIjr-GI5_vdEJc/s1600/DSC_0098.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5Row5iGUYP_ChvHmjZVQPcWHXFP_SX7ye4latk7Ao_8KMkzhrlL3-GN6HRVKQResxrdFGlKT2iUjYZ3HA1HMMt0Ef-VIxCIDI0Ny2hexAuSVWC9mMB-quS3p6pwMUwIjr-GI5_vdEJc/s400/DSC_0098.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516554803626764258" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:16px;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBiZrxYmAOAdyJDLN32QLYJXTeXO7hF-RVY_lBwxyk-GSu0DU8xzaZYbYYGpdv0SBM-Vy0wzB4qEFkxEw80XkzaPFgcAP895eTBDtusFZqC59MOa-PQQw9ovN4pv9QncZgi8znPUEc158/s400/DSC_0090.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516555484316996418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">If you carry a framed picture of Mary on your back for 26 miles, I think you deserve to go to heaven.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikTH6wqx5gH3EacsH3gw2p6PKRCb_LYM3uke3uhxTWxHKCSQIqp0FrYCEA93d5bF9_W4lf5dSJq4UYVg8uulOC3JGUPAStDM22bgkbqICmEH8KA6AJ64i3AZk6seHXUPBbUDMvYBBFKxY/s1600/DSC_0078.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikTH6wqx5gH3EacsH3gw2p6PKRCb_LYM3uke3uhxTWxHKCSQIqp0FrYCEA93d5bF9_W4lf5dSJq4UYVg8uulOC3JGUPAStDM22bgkbqICmEH8KA6AJ64i3AZk6seHXUPBbUDMvYBBFKxY/s400/DSC_0078.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516554782119239026" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " /></a><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMEVN60-FDhdIfdN7C6F2C1oFczNJj3vLUYAYanuWsvWYfiGryvPv_kvJvKAX8Md3IRzQjyy8bUCzszhX2Oha6ISiSIlhMWhPlW673hj3Dpu6HXkvd2A7rWs_hXg5qKR9EWxU8LAHkktQ/s400/DSC_0034.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516554753656628994" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8Lo-nkgvA15pzrhrmuVqOTnPuuCJ_5xg5puNyL6Oafkg9x8QgCbUfEoQ4NaT4-le542PPU1TOgzKjMHQqO8yXkbDszK8a3y9VjIk1tYGp_sUxigfaU7laEQ6spdPI5r_B2rP0saIHNs/s1600/DSC_0054.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO8Lo-nkgvA15pzrhrmuVqOTnPuuCJ_5xg5puNyL6Oafkg9x8QgCbUfEoQ4NaT4-le542PPU1TOgzKjMHQqO8yXkbDszK8a3y9VjIk1tYGp_sUxigfaU7laEQ6spdPI5r_B2rP0saIHNs/s400/DSC_0054.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516554763769414578" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXTn38IqarxhE0nEW3VJLt1nHNQPvGDVPgPynMr2BEVFrvxuStA3XccMkWKlNzD7S6Ft2v276g1GagvUwM1T1GU06srRfi9Pl_tc7WD9V0qR1R8PoF5feT4YDQog9NB6yLa0CRHA4OOA/s1600/DSC_0076.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsXTn38IqarxhE0nEW3VJLt1nHNQPvGDVPgPynMr2BEVFrvxuStA3XccMkWKlNzD7S6Ft2v276g1GagvUwM1T1GU06srRfi9Pl_tc7WD9V0qR1R8PoF5feT4YDQog9NB6yLa0CRHA4OOA/s400/DSC_0076.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516555492452758082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5Row5iGUYP_ChvHmjZVQPcWHXFP_SX7ye4latk7Ao_8KMkzhrlL3-GN6HRVKQResxrdFGlKT2iUjYZ3HA1HMMt0Ef-VIxCIDI0Ny2hexAuSVWC9mMB-quS3p6pwMUwIjr-GI5_vdEJc/s1600/DSC_0098.JPG"></a></div></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-92030813309737368842010-09-07T12:47:00.009-05:002010-09-07T14:19:00.867-05:00Friends, Moving, and Losing Your Linguistic EleganceWe're rounding out our second year here in the DF this week, and there have been so many changes/transitions in the past few weeks to make me feel like we're starting this adventure from scratch. <div><br /></div><div>One of the most difficult things about living abroad is seeing the friends you've made leave. This summer, we said goodbye to six friends, all of whom moved to far away places. I suppose it's in mental storage that this happens amongst the Mexico City expat community, but it never fails to bother me. I am a creature of routine and comfort, so if you leave me, be assured that you have ruffled my feathers. :) </div><div><br /></div><div>We are also uprooting ourselves from the lovely boho Colonia Roma to move to a place closer to Nick's work. We decided against the apartment a block away (in hindsight, a very good thing since a new club has just opened across the street, and they play freakishly loud music from Wednesday to Saturday) and will be moving to a new neighborhood which, from many accounts, is also a very amiable place. All I ask for is good street food, ok? Preferably less than two blocks from my door. Thank you.</div><div><br /></div><div>And, related to the move, I know it'll really feel like starting over when I have to make contact with the utilities, cable, and phone people. As happens every time I encounter these people, blood rushes to my face, the temperature in the room suddenly rises, and I become linguistically debilitated to the point of providing ridiculous answers to standard questions. </div><div><br /></div><div>Examples of linguistic debilitation: </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Census taker: </b><i><b>How many bathrooms do you have in your house?</b></i></div><div><b>Husband : </b><i><b>95</b></i><b> (the number of meters in our apartment)</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Census taker: </b><i><b>Do you speak any indigenous languages? </b></i></div><div><b>Husband: </b><i><b>Yes</b></i></div><div><b>Census taker: (mystified) </b><i><b>Which ones?</b></i></div><div><b>Husband: </b><i><b>English</b></i></div><div><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div><b>Store clerk: ¿</b><i><b>Con quien le atendió?</b></i><b> (Who helped you?)</b></div><div><b>Me: </b><i><b>Mi nombre es Alice </b></i></div><div><b>Store clerk: (annoyed) </b><i><b>No, no, no. ¿Con quien le atendió?</b></i></div><div><b>Me: </b><i><b>Alice </b></i></div><div><b>Store clerk: </b><i><b>Un segundo...</b></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><b>(only after post-phone reflection did I realize what he was saying)</b></span></i></div><div><br /></div><div>In the next few weeks, I will be making quite a few "Why hasn't your service worker showed up the past three times he's made an appointment with me?" conversations, but, hopefully, all my insides won't come unraveled. But, if they do, I'll make a note of it so we can all have a good laugh.</div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-25684680624771785702010-08-24T18:38:00.005-05:002010-08-24T19:20:22.303-05:00Taco Bell Cantina Tacos<div>This weekend, we celebrated our niece's 1st birthday in Houston. She excels in heavy lifting, doesn't like to hit the books like her sister, and she can eat! Isn't she a cutie?!? </div><div><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfVeRpycmBmvNiYJ-8l2Qf6Lm4xN0L6BKn04uo-vNE1U_h6UBfsx7tLhPLueN9BQe5K_tD3xfSfoPOUcNxs0_6pBhzREdcwt_Dl-vLEKr_bzS0Phd7Z-yaNRHnvrov4YC5drcxHIBc2s/s400/kiran.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509128614221319554" /><div><br /></div><div>While there, I sold out to Taco Bell but only because I wanted to try the new <a href="http://www.tacobell.com/food/tacos">Taco Bell Cantina tacos</a>. They come double-wrapped in corn tortillas ... just like the taco here. They're topped with fresh cilantro and onions ... just like the tacos here. And they come with lime ... just like the tacos here. Did they <i>taste </i>like the tacos here? Not really, but, mmm... they were tasty. A move in the right direction, Taco Bell!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJ1hOJh7nCjNzmJeX9pqM_QaRoiG64flsxE8tNDMl8T20dDyW0SQv17tFJvSVlDsP5_AwI5Iz1Iimfuyr713xuhN6wBPQoE3FhUsqERWNK5mpYKzX05r5sobSoA9NURqUzrkWYiW1VlE/s400/taco+bell.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509128610372937138" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pigs on the left; chickens on the right</span></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6373523020575468346.post-41865864375948230222010-08-19T13:38:00.003-05:002010-08-19T14:29:29.345-05:00Learning eh-slang via YouTubeWe're coming on **two** years here in Mexico, and I'm finally getting around to understanding and using slang. Which pretty much means I'm finally learning to speak Spanish... While I highly recommend the blog <a href="http://swearindf.blogspot.com/">Effective Swearing in DF</a> for lovely explanations of slang, I find this YouTube sensation, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/werevertumorro">Werevertumorro</a>, to be pretty amusing. He teaches me lots of useful slang, and I like his social commentary on the craziness that often goes on here. <div><br /></div><div>See how many references to Mexican pop culture, TV, and futbol you can get in this video:<div><br /><div><div><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1sEos7uweWo?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1sEos7uweWo?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div></div></div></div>Alicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963493525235524241noreply@blogger.com3