When In Enemy Territory, Wear Your Colors Timidly OR ELSE...

After a few naughty fingers, evil stares, and a threat to beat us up after the game, we're ALIVE!! And all this maliciousness brought on by wearing a USA jersey at the game. We had some hesitation, er, fear, that wearing a USA jersey in a sea of Mexican green might bring on some undesired attention, but our Brooklyn-blooded-I-have-NO-fear friends were expecting us to bleed red, white, and blue along with them. So we compromised and stashed our jerseys in my bag until we reached our seats. You know, 'cuz if there was ever a time to be low-profile, this day was it.

Once we reached our **UH-MAZING** seats (thanks to super fan, Dwight, who vigilently stood in line at Ticketmaster for us), we donned our jerseys and Dwight proudly hung up the American flag. It just so happened that we were fortified by a large cement wall -- aka the beer retaining wall -- and barbed wire, and the people in our section seemed somewhat more civilized than the average beer-throwing, taunting young gun. All turned out to be very good things once we realized that we were not in good company.

One day we will show this to our children and advise them that branding your colors on enemy territory might get you beaten up.

There were taunts like, "Yankee go home" and "America sucks," and every time the Mexican team scored a goal, people physically turned their bodies and launched all their anger and pent-up George Bush hatred towards us to suck up. The odds were 6 to 120,000.

Well, the game didn't go well (now we know why: Donovan has AH1N1) , and when Mexico made the second goal in the final minutes of the match, we quickly untied the flag, took off our jerseys, and filed out of the stadium as fast as we could. One young 'un in particular really wanted to fight us, and at that point, we decided to lay down our American pride and walk out with lowered heads. Disappointing. Exhilirating. A once in a lifetime experience.

Here are a few more pictures of the game:

Estadio Azteca seats nearly 120,000 riled up Mexican fans.

The starting line-up

Per Mexican machismo, the pretty girl parade during half-time

This bad boy enjoyed turning around and flinging the finger at us.

Do We Look Like We're Made of Money Part II

As most of us do, I take a brief look at our bank statements every month to ensure all the withdrawals and deposits are correct. Even though Nick is the financier by trade, I end up doing all our personal finances. Minus the frequent "service not available" messages, online banking here is trustworthy and useful. I can check our movements, pay bills, and most of the time, I can successfully transfer money between self-owned accounts and third-party accounts. And you can online bank in English with Banamex--something I find very helpful when dealing in financial matters. Something to consider if you need to open a bank account here.

Well, this week we've been counting our losses--first from our doormen and now from the government. I noticed a suspicious charge on our recent bank statement, and I really couldn't tell what it was because the charge was a mix of numbers and Spanish acronyms. Here is the actual line item: 

000000000164473 IDE RECAUD PER ACTU 164473 CARGO POR IDE AUT. 139764

Between forgetting and mustering up the courage to call the bank, I finally did to inquire about the charge. A sampling of our dialogue in my less-than-eloquent Spanish:

Me: Hello, I have a charge that I'd like more information about.

Operator: Can you read the charge off to me?

Me: (thinking to herself, "I hope this guy knows code.") It says IDE RECAUD PER ACTU

Operator: (sounding annoyed) That's an IDE charge. Any deposits over 25,000 pesos are subject to a 2% tax.

Me: (Brain rejecting this seemingly irrational explanation) Are you telling me that I'm being charged extra if I deposit more than 25,000 pesos in my account?

Basically, yes. In short, there is a tax called called IDE, short for "Impuesto a los Depósitos en Efectivo", or "Tax on Cash Deposits" in English. Beginning July 1, 2008, the government instated the IDE to increase tax revenue, and all cash deposits over 25,000 pesos (per month) are subject to a 2% tax. You can read more about it here in English. Here in Spanish.

Well, hell, if I knew this minute law, I might of just kept the money at home or deposited it in smaller increments. I never, ever, ever thought that I could be charged for depositing money into my bank account. I wonder how many people unknowingly fall victim to this insane tax law. 

Avoiding and ignoring laws here is second-nature, so I'm sure the only contributors to IDE are by first-time victims like me. After that, you smarten up and find ways around it. Anyway, on a lighter note, here are more ridiculous Mexican laws. And, let's not forget the rest of the world. 

Rain-drying the Laundry

Before I even get up, the two ladies across the street already have their laundry hung up for the day. The trick is to get it up in the morning and have it down before the afternoon rains. But what happens if there's rain in the morning, too?  

Well, duh! Hang it up in the rain... 

Managing the Predictability of Unpredictability: How a 30-min errand turns into 3 hours

Yes, ANOTHER 3 hour tale, but this time, it has nothing to do with the bank. (Although, feel free to read Lesley's post on her banking experience today.) It wasn't so much a frustrating 3 hours but just one of those days that blared out, "YES, you live in Mexico!!" 

The day had been going pretty routine--work, deadly bus rides, and errands--until about 1pm. Around that time, I decided to finally tackle a major errand to the post office to send off 15 pounds of books to fellow blogger, Amanda. A fairly easy errand in the US; in Mexico, it requires a sober and concerted effort, and it might not be successful the first time, as the post office may be closed momentarily or out of stamps or who knows what else. And post offices are far, especially on foot, and especially while carrying a 15 pound box! 

So first, I had to go buy a box. Then, I returned home, filled the box up, grabbed $1000 pesos ($75 and very excessive but only because I heard sending mail was expensive), and then hauled the box about 15 minutes away. Whew, the post office was open, and whew, it was surprisingly very inexpensive! With just minor communication problems, I had that box shipped off.

At this point in the day, I was feeling quite satisfied that I successfully completed an errand on the first try. It only got better when I saw the sacador de filos, the knife sharpener, on my way home. I asked him if he wouldn't mind stopping by my place and sharpening a very dull knife for me. So, he followed me home, I ran upstairs, and encountered the problem I had considered before in a previous post. How do I carry the knife down without looking like a crazy woman? Well, I grabbed a kitchen towel, wrapped it tightly, and ran it down to the knife sharpener. He completed the job, and I just had to ask him how other people transported their knives to him? "Usually in a towel," he said, and we both grinned at the oddity of this little life dilemma. 

I was so elated to have shipped the package AND encountered the knife sharpener that, in my euphoric frenzy, I realized I forgot my keys and locked myself out of my apartment--WITH A KNIFE IN MY HAND!! I pondered my next move, and fortunately, the doorman agreed to hang on to my knife (a strange request, eh?) while I went to fetch the house keys from hubby at work.

Although three hours is a lot of time spent on an errand that was only supposed to be 30 minutes, I am quite amused by how the afternoon transpired. And I feel like I'm managing the unpredictability of life here better than I was a few months ago. But, before I say it with complete confidence, I want to see that package reach its destination 'cuz that's not the kind of unpredictability I find amusing.

Where's the cambio?

I don't know why I ask because the answer's always the same. Here's a typical scenario:

Me: (expectantly) Tienes cambio? (Do you have change?)

Vendor: (programmed response) No tengo cambio. (I don't have change.)

Whenever I try to use a large bill, the standard response is, "No tengo cambio." And I'm not really talking about big bills like a $50USD or $100USD, I'm talking about bills that are worth less than $10. So here's what I've noticed: 100 or 200 peso bills ($7.50 and $15, respectively) are not gladly accepted, sometimes a 50 peso bills ($3.70) is frowned upon, and don't even try using a 500 peso bill ($37.80). 

Allow me to contextualize the dilemma so many of us face:

• I went to the dentist (400 pesos), but when I tried to pay with a 500 peso bill (reasonable enough, right?), the secretary wouldn't take it.
• A man steps on the bus (3 pesos) and tries to pay with a 50 peso bill. He was rejected at first, but when he had nothing else, the driver surprisingly came up with change.
• I go to the market and buy a bag of clams (70 pesos). I pull out a 200 peso bill, and the man says to me, "I know you have something smaller. (Points to my wallet) Right there."

So, basically, in an effort to keep small change, people lie about not having any. Change is what everyone wants and needs--change for the bus, change for the market, change for the small shopkeepers. But what I have are large bills because that's what the ATM shoots out. In this country, the ATM should be spitting out coins like a slots machine! It's change we all want!! 

Anyway, I'm used to being lied to about change because I'm learning to see it as more of a survival methodology than a lie. Though, in all respects, a lie IS a lie. This is what I wondered today as I saw someone fall victim to "no tengo cambio": if I were a shopkeeper or bus driver, would I, too, engage in this game of lies? Would you?

I Heart Guanajuato!!

It's always San Miguel de Allende this and San Miguel de Allende that within the expat community, but why aren't more people talking about Guanajuato? I'm just back from a short trip out there, and I have been completely won over. 

Guanajuato--the entire town--is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Designated so in 1988, it means that the town is subject to strict building regulations--a plus if you're looking to find a piece of Old World Spain in the new world. There are very few streets where cars can even fit (and, trust me, they do try hard in impossibly narrow places), which leaves Guanajuato an enchanting maze of cobblestone alleys called callejones. The streets are so up and down that you are forced to be fit. And forced to be lost. In fact, from the moment I stepped out of the taxi in town, I was lost. But, later you realize that "lost" sightseeing is part of Guanajuato's charm. There are hidden alleys, plazas, theaters, and quaint homes, many of which are marked by their famous inhabitants:

"Here was born the famous composer Chucho Elizarraraz"

Pita, from Casa de Pita, welcomed me into her home on Callejón Cabecita, just steps from one of the main theaters. She partitioned the home of her childhood into five guestrooms and renovated each one with ceramic tiles from Santa Rosa and Dolores Hidalgo. If you're obsessed like me or even just appreciate traditional pottery, this place is lovely eye candy. And next to her "office" is an easel, where she's currently working on a Frida Kahlo piece. Ahhh... don't we all wish we could dabble in our hobbies at work?

Pita serves you a delicious breakfast right at her kitchen table (although, that's a  picture of mine)

Here's what the view looks like from just about any hill you walk up. This was taken while walking up to the Pípila statue, a hero from the Mexican war of Independence. 

Guanajuato is like a natural stairmaster machine--at no moment will you be walking on a flat surface. Can you imagine what it would take to move in to or out of a house in this town? I saw two guys each carrying three garrafones of water on their back without looking like they were going to pass out. I was having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other. 

Guanajuato's most famous potter, Gorky Gonzalez, has a workshop in town, and if you want to see well-done examples of the traditional Mayólica style, you should go. I'm a little "heavier" now with some new pieces of pottery, and when I have more time, I'm trekking up to Santa Rosa and Dolores Hidalgo to visit the workshops and learn their techniques. There's also an English-language bookstore called "Donkey Jote" across from the Diego Rivera Museum (Pocitos #30), and Colleen from Wisconsin lovingly lugs each and every book down from the US. Again, I couldn't help myself and added just a smidge more to my collection of children's books. 

And so, with my first solo journey within Mexico over, I am indebted to all the kind souls I met along the way. Thanks to Pita, her sister Pila, Kathleen from Chicago, and Oscar and his new bride, Guinevere, from Montreal; to shopkeeper Pancho (who I accidentally called 'Ancho') for keeping me hydrated with an assortment of sugary drinks; and, to Guanajuato...I'll be back.

I'm Getting all too Familiar with the Word "Predial"

Impuestos Predial. Or, predial for short. It's the word for "property tax", and I've heard it more than the six times they say it takes to make it stick in your memory. (predial, predial, predial, predial, predial, predial in case you need to learn it, too)

I know, I know... you're asking yourself, "But you don't own any property in Mexico. Why is predial part of your vocabulary?" Well, it turns out that it's an extremely important word to know because the predial is your ticket to accessing many services, such as social security, a bank account, a driver's license, etc. 

Now, doesn't this predial thing just beg the question as to what one does when he/she wants to access a service yet doesn't own property? While there are other proofs of address, such as your telephone bill or utilities bill, they are not 100% guaranteed to get you through the door. Some take the electricity bill, others the water bill, and another the telephone bill. It's really a mystery to me who takes what, but one thing is fact: the predial is 100% guaranteed!! 

Here's another concern with the predial. I coincidentally received a notice about the predial today, and I opened it, despite it being for the landlord. (Yes, he continues to have important mail sent here despite it not being his residence anymore.) Well, good thing I did because it was a six-day notice to the landlord to fulfill, as it says, his "obligación constitucional" (constitutional obligation) to pay property taxes. For fear of facing eviction or serious fines, I did a quick search on the internet about paying property taxes in Mexico, because I had a feeling most people avoid it like they do their income taxes. Here's what I got from Yucatan Living: 

Well, apparently, we [writers of Yucatan Living] are among the few who pay their predial happily and the city seems to have trouble collecting. So, there are discounts: 12-15% discount if you pay in January, 10% in February and 8% in March. There are also other rather interesting incentives. If you are jubilado (retired), you might get a discount up to 100%! You can pay with a credit card and get a discount from the bank. People who pay early might win any number of prizes, including two brand new cars, 15 trips to the Riviera Maya, 12 laptop computers and 12 Sony Wiis!

If you know more about the predial, or in general, about comprobantes, please enlighten me. I am having a stroke of "newcomer" luck.

Cinépolis VIP

Rewind my life back about a month, and every Thursday or Friday I was asked, "What do you want to do this weekend?" (aka "You wanna go to that movie theater Luis told us about?") 

Soo... the thing is, Nick REALLY likes movies. And the boy really likes to drink, too. So when our friend, Luis, told us about a place he likes to go where you can do both, Nick was really excited to go. Because, you know, there are just some things in your past American life that you wish you had here, and the Alamo Drafthouse in Austin was one of those places. You could drink Shiners, eat fried pickles, and watch both new and classic movies. And sometimes have Michael Jackson sing-a-longs on the big screen. 

Now fast forward to last weekend, and we made it to that movie theater: the Cinépolis VIP!! I can't really explain to you how VIP it is, except that it was one of the most surreal experiences of my life, having felt like I stepped into the space pod of luxury. We reclined in our leather loveseat, propped up our feet, ate sushi, and drank beers. Everything short of a martini.

The ticket price? A lavish 115 pesos ($9 and nearly three times the price of a regular movie ticket) per person! And, in the end, I was so captivated by the throws of luxury that I didn't even pay attention to the movie. It's truly, truly, truly an absurd price to pay in such a poverty stricken country, but it is one of the finest displays of what private sector/individuals/this country can do if they put their mind to it. 

Apparently, this concept is so popular that the tickets sell out. Buy online here, have the reservation/receipt texted to your phone, show the text to the ticket collector, and you're in. 

Cinépolis VIP: Located at your nearest mega mall

THE BAR!!!

THE LOUNGE!!!

THE THEATER!!!

Probably not good for digestion to throw down some beers and eat while laying at a 145 degree angle

Phrase of the Week: Más Tarde

It's been over a month ago, April 21st to be exact, that I had my last three hour bout with the bank. So perhaps the time was right for another round of misstatements and let downs as we tried to REOPEN our bank account. That's correct, ladies and gentlemen, the bank CLOSED our account. Shut it down, kaput, cerrada...

Last week, before our road trip to Tequis, Nick tried to withdraw some money from the ATM. "Operación no está disponible. Intente más tarde (Operation not available. Try again later)." Más tarde (later) we tried again, to no avail. Obviously, we weren't going to get any money out for the weekend, but we had around 200 pesos ($20) and our credit card to get us through. Fine, lessons learned: 1) always keep a stash of cash at home because ANYTHING can happen here and 2) don't wait until Fridays to withdraw money. 

The weekend passed, and on Monday, we gave a call to customer service because we were not only having problems withdrawing money, but our online banking hadn't been working for nearly two weeks. Customer service, too, was having some computer issues and asked me to call back "más tarde". Several calls later, I find out our account's been CLOSED and am directed to my branch to find out why. 

Más tarde the next day, Nick and I trek far over to our branch. **Note to all newcomers: open your account where you will live or where you will think you will conduct most of your banking** We stand in line, wait about 30 minutes (for the bank, that's amazing!), and find out that the government closed our account because we had a US address registered as our main address. HUH? Where'd the money go?!? He says, "Come back más tarde with the appropriate documents to reopen your account and everything will be fine."

A few days later, when Nick and I both have a good half day to devote to this endeavor, we trek over once again to our branch. Documents in hand, we are about to step in to the branch, excited to see a really short line, and we are stopped. The guard says, "The systems are down, regrese más tarde." MÁS TARDE ME BACK MY MONEY, HSBC!!! 

30 minutes más tarde, we return and find things up and running. Without making this story too much longer, I'll just say that another Friday's gone by and we still don't have our account reopened. When we both find a full day to devote to the matter (because I don't think half a day cuts it anymore with getting things accomplished at the bank), we are going to march in there, get it done, or else we're taking our money out and shoving it under the mattress!

Tequisquiapan, Querétaro

Last weekend we went puebleando-ing (pueblo-hopping) to Tequisquiapan, a small town located in Querétaro state and about 2.5 from Mexico City. Tequis is well-known for its wine and cheese production, and every year, they host the national wine and cheese festival. So, of course, we had to check this out! 

At the turn-off for Tequis is a small town called San Juan Del Rio. San Juan Del Rio doesn't seem to have that much to offer a puebloando-er like myself, but one thing that might be of interest to a tourist, and maybe a Mexican, too, is the slice of America you get while traveling through to get to Tequis. It is so blatantly unnatural that I'm sure it makes everyone kind of go, "Whoa, where are we?!?!" So what is this bit of America in San Juan Del Rio?

I give San Juan Del Rio the distinction of having THE nicest road I've ever seen in Mexico. It's paved beautifully, not a single pothole, fashionable street lamps, modern traffic signals, green grass medians, and flat sidewalks. Even just one of these amenities might draw a notice, so you can imagine how the sight of ALL of these might alter your sensibilities. There are an unusual number of multi-national factories along this stretch of road, so who bribed who to have this road installed is anybody's guess. 

Right about where the nice road ends, Tequis welcomes you with its own nice windy, cobblestone streets. The Zócalo has a magnificent church, and there are cheese shops or artisan stalls on nearly every street. If woven baskets are your thing, this is the place to enhance your collection. Unlike other pueblos, Tequis' Zócalo is blocked off the car traffic, which means the young 'uns aren't driving by at a snail's pace and blasting their reggatón while you're trying to have a peaceful lunch or coffee on the plaza. I like that. A lot.

So we came here for the wine and cheese festival, but I wouldn't recommend it to those actually interested in trying new wines and cheeses. It was so disappointing that I actually don't have that much to write about it except that this festival was an ode to the infamous, low-budget Riunite Lambrusco. It was kind of fun, or more like funny, watching everyone drink Riunite. If you're really interested in trying the area's wine and cheese, there are some wineries and cheese producers that open their facilities to tours. 

The festival was a bust, but the town's a gem, and you're always guaranteed an adventure when you go puebloando-ing. AND, driving conditions/skills are looking brighter, and we managed to only get in like 5 near-death accidents on the highway! 

Wrong Ways to Do the Kiss

I started a new job on the side last week, which means meeting lots of new people. And meeting lots of people means doing lots of kissing...kissing on the cheek, that is. And with all this practice I'm getting, I'm starting to notice that I'm actually not very good at it. I'm still awkward at the kiss, but yesterday was an obvious "you're doing it all wrong" kind of kissing day.

For the standard hello and good-bye kiss with someone I've met before, I usually go at it with my right cheek. Sometimes I do the semi-hug as well, which really is just my left hand on the individual's right shoulder. Although, I think I do it more for stability purposes, as I can just see myself going in for a kiss and toppling over. The standard hello and good-bye kiss is pretty straight forward, right? Wrong. It CAN go wrong...

Yesterday, in one of my regular greeting kisses, the person and I both moved in for the kiss, but we didn't go in far enough for our cheeks to touch. We ended up giving each other air kisses, and I wondered afterward if I should have reattempted the kiss. In a way, I felt I had disrespected this person by not touching him. I doubt air kisses happen that often, and when they do, I'm sure there's an awkward thought from both sides as to what the hell just happened. It was the worst kissing attempt to-date, and I vowed not to do that again...

Until a few minutes later.... I made another horrible kissing mistake. Not another case of the air kiss but of the handshake and kiss combination. Think of it as the regular handshake but with the added kiss as I've described above. It's usually a combination reserved for two people that have never met. 

And this is how it went: the person came forward with both her cheek and hand, and I kissed the cheek but left the hand hanging. It wasn't meant to be disrespectful; I just didn't expect a handshake. And too, the handshake/kiss combination doesn't always come with meeting someone new so I never really know when to expect it. Perhaps this was a display of professionalism, which I clearly lack and do not respond to :). Hey, it's hard to remember you're a professional sometimes when you're usually around kids with the maturity level of toddlers! 

Yesterday taught me two things: 1) I need to be more observant of how people execute the kiss and 2) I need more kissing practice (aka, get out there and meet more people)

Something THIS Beautiful Should Not be Eaten

I haven't been able to stop staring at this since I brought it home from the market today. Never did see anything like it before, and it's so top-heavy that the only suitable thing I found to keep it from tipping over was my utensil holder. Can you tell what it is?? 

An affordable and stunning bridal bouquet. With a bloom so large, you'd just need one.

It's an alcachofa (artichoke) flower! I know what you're thinking--how come I've never seen this before?? While you can't see the stem, it is nearly an inch think and was, before I had it snipped, over a meter long. I see now why artichokes are so hard to eat--that beautiful bud inside requires some hefty protection against the vicious world. Doesn't this make you wonder what color some other vegetables flowers would be if we let them be?

Get it Right: Toilet Paper-Throwing Etiquette

Sometimes when you move to a new country, the organization you're with offers classes titled "Social Customs" or "Sensitivity Training", etc. You know, just to give you a heads up before you drain the communal bath water (as a friend did in Japan) or signal with the wrong finger and accidently give the bird (as the Chinese often do since they use their middle finger as a pointer). And as much as you read up through books, the internet, and blogs, there's still some things left to be discovered on your own, especially when you're in the confines of a bathroom stall. 

At school this week, a fellow teacher on the way out warns me as I enter the bathroom, "Be careful. It smells really bad in there." The other two teachers inside nod in agreement.

I walk in a stall, and what do I see? Not the usual unflushed mess in the toilet (although, that too, will create the same kind of chaos in the ladies room), but an upturned HUUUGE wad of toilet paper in the trash can soiled in you-know-what!! I think to myself, "That is sooo wrong." 

And apparently, everyone else thought so too. It was a commotion you might find amongst the students, not the teachers, as they stood around and gasped at nerve someone had to foul up the bathroom like that. You just don't leave the dirty side of the toilet paper exposed. You purposely throw it face down, and in the event that it fails to fall in the appropriate manner, either do the deed and dig down there and turn it over, or, as my husband suggested, lay a clean piece of toilet paper over it so as to not offend the next user with your personal belongings (dare I say that he might have some experience in this practice?) 

Now that I think about it, this is a universal social custom. If you had to throw your toilet paper away in the trash in any other country, you would do the same, no? Though I'm not really sure, as I have no other experiences to compare it to. But something tells me deep down inside that this is a fact of life. A fact of life that doesn't need to be written up in any book or blog... that is, until someone violates THE UNIVERSAL CODE OF CONDUCT. 

Swine Flu Transmitted NOT by Pork But by Planes

A few months ago, we made plans to visit Texas during the upcoming long weekend. However, since school's been cancelled until May 6th and the airlines are waiving fees for us wee folks in the middle of the storm, I decided to push up my trip and head back to the US today. 

So here I am, back in Texas, and honestly, I am a little concerned by how little was done to "passively monitor" the situation both in Mexico and in the US. Here is what "passive" entails: not once was anyone asked about their health, not once was anyone's temperature taken, not once was anyone offered a mask or encouraged to wash their hands more frequently. Us young 'uns between the age of 25-37 were not even culled out for further questioning. And there I was trying not to sniffle, cough, or sneeze for fear of being detained. The only thing I saw differently was a leaflet handed out to some incoming passengers in the US concerning the flu.

Now that's passive. So passive I'd call it dismissive. Not that I believe this thing is spreading out of control, or that they should seal off borders, but you would think that authorities in both countries might be taking more precautions, especially when international boundaries are concerned. It's not that surprising to me now that there are cases showing up on nearly every continent-- so few precautions taken even up to today. Nick comes in tomorrow; let's see if the raised WHO alert level changes anything. 

Allow me to revise the hype: SWINE FLU NOT TRANSMITTED BY EATING PORK BUT BY PEOPLE TRAVELING BY PLANE FROM MEXICO. 

There's a Very Fine Line Between Prostitutes and Weather Persons

I had the news on tonight eagerly awaiting to hear whether they would cancel school next week. And, of course they did. While I sometimes loathe the way the government haphazardly makes decisions, i.e. who gets water, who doesn't, I am loudly and selfishly applauding this measure. And did you hear that they extended the tax deadline another month? Just in case the swine flu was preventing you from paying your taxes... 

Anyway, here's what I really wanted to show you. Can YOU concentrate on the news when a hot-pink-peek-a-boo-check-out-my-latin-curves woman is covering the very important topic of the weather??? I especially like how she hooks her mic to the hole in her chest. YES, WE CAN HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR! 

Armageddon

In the past 24 hours, there's enough scary business going around town to make you think that the world might be coming to an end soon. Yesterday, a few streets over, a building collapsed, injuring 31 people, and attracting gawkers and emergency personnel at all times throughout the evening. There was so much noise that I tried to think of it as a wonderful Dvorak symphony of sirens, horns, helicopters, and shouting. 

Then, today, Mexico City and the State of Mexico closed all schools in the wake of a severe respiratory outbreak in which most of the reported deaths are people from Mexico City. Dios mio! This we find out only after we decide to congregate with hundreds of other people who waited to file their taxes at the last minute. There we are like good foreigners doing the extremely odd behavior of paying our taxes in a country of people known for trying their damnedest to avoid it, and we become targets of an influenza epidemic. 

With nothing else to do in a line about half a mile long, I watch people milling around and notice an unusual number of people wearing surgical mask-type coverings over their face. That seems strange, I think, because I've never seen that before. Then, I see the newspaper headlines: "All Schools Cancelled in Mexico City and the State of Mexico: Influenza". INFLUENZA?? Cancel school for the flu? I get the flu a lot working with kids, but then I find out it's a rare and deadly strain of swine flu. Repeat, I GET THE FLU A LOT WORKING WITH KIDS. 

 

It appears I need to purchase a few blue masks (if I can find one in a city stricken with panic) and hole up at home. Avoid the musty and germy subway. Wash hands religiously. Eat at home. Avoid schools, aka work :). What other precautions should I taking? 

                    

                                                         El Universal

The New York Times online just broke the news. 

Top 5

I've had such a frustrating morning at the bank that I have been cursing, not just the inefficiency of the bank, but the entire state of the country! There are greater woes to be had, but the bank really knows how to set me off, as there are only so many 3 hours trips to the bank that I can tolerate before I lose my patience. Patience, smatience... 

So, since I've found myself in an expat slump at the moment, I thought I'd cheer myself up with the "Top 5 Bestest Things About Mexico So Far". In no particular order,

#1 Food. Need I say more? 

#2 This sort of falls in with #1 since it's the food I love here. The local food markets make me so giddy that if you took my brain chemistry, I do think my seratonin levels rise when I am in the presence of such a luscious cornucopia of fruits and vegetables. 

#3 Hmm..I'm seeing a trend here. This might also be related to #1. I LOVE the fresh juice and smoothie stands. Seems like they're on every corner except when you're really craving it. Don't see it as much in other towns--is this a Mexico City phenomena?

#4 Okay, it's not ALL about food. I love visiting the charming pueblos around here, and I'm dreaming about the day when I can own my own lovely piece of Mexico with flowering bouganvillas spilling over the walls and into the cobblestone streets of my pueblocito. 

#5 Don't focus on the picture of that wretched bank in the background, but rather, imagine what it feels like to cruise down one of your city's biggest avenues while all the drivers watch in envy. It's what we try to do every Sunday morning here, and props to my hubby for sticking it out with his "new" Benotto bike. Everything but the frame has been broken and/or replaced in the few months that we've owned it. Even the brakes never worked!

Ok, I feel better now...but I'm still furious with the bank. 

My Semana Santa

With all that goes on during Semana Santa in Mexico, I should have probably spent my first one here experiencing the festivities, but instead, I went in search of cooler climates, fresher air, and some peace and quiet. So to Northern California we went (though with all the Spanish speakers around, we didn't feel too far from home). We road tripped our way from the Russian River Valley in Sonoma County, down to Muir Woods (apparently not the right woods where you can drive your car through a Redwood), to the city by the Bay, and finally down Highway 1 to Monterey, Carmel, and Big Sur. Oh, and ate my way through every conceivable type of Asian cuisine there was, including something called 7-course beef. Highly not recommended for those with cholesterol concerns. 

Amongst it all, I saw Mexicans working, working, working the land--the grapevines in Sonoma, the lawns of the Bay Area, the artichoke and strawberry farms in Castroville and Watsonville. One gardener I met was from Jalisco and has been away from his family for six years. Obviously a choice he made and possibly an illegal one but still a courageous decision to leave his family in hopes of a brighter future for his children. 

In Texas, it's the same, and I've seen it for years, but what's now different is me. It's been about eight months in Mexico, and each time I go home to the States, I feel myself siding more and more with the plight Mexicans face. Why stay in your own country when a better life is not too far off? You can't blame the human spirit for wanting better (and you can't build a wall high enough or a fence long enough to keep it tamed). So while the debate on immigration continues, I think what Americans can start doing more of is being appreciative for what Mexicans do for the US economy. Balance out what the media shows about a nation of drug thugs and illegals with what really happens on a day-to-day basis in your restaurants, front lawns, construction sites, and on farms across the US. And if you can, take a trip down here to see for yourself.

The landscape of Northern California is so beautiful that I am impelled to share a few photos with you. 

Muir Woods' Coastal Redwoods, the tallest living things in the ENTIRE WORLD!!

Biked this 'lil bridge

Where the land meets the sea in Big Sur

Migrant workers in Watsonville picking strawberries

Teotihuacán

We've had a number of visitors in town the past few weeks, which means lots of touristy trips around the city. One of our first stops last week was to Teotihuacán, the ruins just north of the city. Almost every town we've visited in Mexico has their own ruins, and, honestly, sometimes I just get tired of seeing them. BUT, Teotihuacán blew me away for its enormity, ingenuity, and architectural prowess. Don't you just wonder how they accomplished this feat? Amazing! And equally baffling were the modern stone mountains on the drive back to the city. 

Teotihuacán took over 200 hundred years to erect.

The gophers are clearly not camera shy.

If you can leave without buying anything, you should be rewarded back your admission fee for exhibiting such self-control. 

Notice the good angel over my right shoulder telling me, "Don't do it!" And I didn't.

Here's to what could of been-- animal noise makers

Mountains of concrete homes stacked on top of one another. Definitely not the place to be in an earthquake.

Noises: The Series

If you've followed my blog, you know I like to comment on the ubiquitous noise of Mexico City. If I had to categorize them, I would place the noise into two categories: 1) harmony and 2) discord. In the category of discord would be the following noises: trucks, cars, dog-beating, abusive neighbors, neighbors that play Tracy Chapman on repeat at 4am, sirens of all sorts, honking horns, and people who yell "Pinche, cabrón" and/or other sordid profanities in front of children. Did I really just forget to list Shania Twain at 6am?? In the category of harmony would be: the tamale vendor's cry, the sweet potato man's steam blower, street musicians, the ringing bell of the garbage collector, and my latest discovery, the knife sharpener's whistle. 

Unlike the sweet potato vendor, the mysterious whistling sound is heard in the daytime, usually in the morning. I have always attributed this bit of noise to the music school across the street, but while going about my morning chores today, I heard that faint whistle out my window. Of course, in accordance with my noise-y obsession, this required voyeuristic investigation.

On a bicycle with a sharpening stone attached to the back was the the sacador de filos, the knife sharpener!! Oh, was I elated to have finally found this man! Everyone I know seems to have one in their neighborhood, and I was beginning to feel a little left out. No one told me about his distinctive whistle, but honestly, it was very pleasurable to have discovered him and his noise all on my own. Given that he was on a bike, this fella was quick and almost out of sight once I put two and two together. And no way was I going to gather all my knives in the fist of my hand and run them down like a crazy woman just to get them sharpened. As crooked as the cops are here, I think they know a crazy when they see one. So this time next week I'll carefully bundle them up and hope he comes again.

Listen to this NPR podcast to hear the knife sharpener's whistle and learn more about Mexico's informal economy of street food vendors and tradesman. Hmm..this makes me a little interested in starting my own informal economy of homemade Asian delights.

A knife sharpener in Oaxaca who props his back wheel up while pedaling backwards to turn the sharpening stone.

(Courtesy of  http://hdl.handle.net/10090/1736)