Day 10: Talking to Strangers

7:30 pm

This morning I went out into the town to see if I could find some kids to talk to. The thing is, none of them would talk to me. That actually makes me very happy. I was very worried about them being out there by themselves, and, I mean, I know that I'm not some sort of psycho, but they don't know that. So I would probably be very worried if they all agreed to talk to me. I talked to three kids, and they all told me their names and their ages and what they were selling and that was it. I guess the majority of my field research will have to wait until I get out in the countryside and I'm properly introduced. That's fine. I'm just glad that those beautiful kids know not to talk to strangers.

I'm having a hard time putting my finger on the rules of ettiquite in this town. The one thing I do have mastered, though, is passing people on the sidewalk. The sidewalks here are extremely narrow; really only wide enough for one person across. In America, foot traffic mostly follows the same pattern as car traffic; everyone stays to the right. But here in San Miguel, they don't base their patterns of motion on left or right, they base it on who is closer to the street. Whoever is closer to the street usually has to step all the way off into the street to let the other pass. The men, especially polite old men, cut to the street side and step off while wishing you good afternoon. With women it's a little trickier. I try to step into the street whenever possible, especially if the lady has kids with her. But sometimes people act shocked when I do that, mostly because it seems that the Americans in this town bash around without a lot of thought to who has to step in the street for them. It seems like a gesture of great respect to step into the street for someone, and I don't think that people expect that much respect from someone as obviously American as me.

Erendira and Johanna, our two Hispanics, and Aneesha, who is Indian, but also darker skinned, with dark hair, have mentioned that they get a lot of looks at their feet, because they wear flip-flops and sandals most of the time, which is a very American thing. People can tell that they're American by their feet. But me? Nobody ever looks at my feet. Even if I wore the most Mexican shoes in existence, I wouldn't blend in. But that's fine. It's kind of odd, getting all those stares and catcalls, though... Something that never happens in the States. The other day, a woman passed me on the sidewalk with a little boy of about 5 years in tow. When they passed me, the boy turned as they walked and kept staring at me long after they passed, mouth hanging slightly open, eyes wide, as the woman kept pulling on his hand. "Stop staring!" she chided him in Spanish. "But, Mama, she's beautiful," he said. How's that for a self-esteem boost? hehe

Then, this afternoon, just as I was about to give up on finding any kids to talk to in the city, on my way up the block to my new apartment I was all but accosted by a few neighbor kids that I always see playing in the alley. I always say hi, but today they finally got over their shyness and asked to play and speak English with me. As it turns out, 9-year-old Fer and her 2-year-old brother Alejandro have a father that just returned from the United States and 7-year-old Pablo and his 4-year-old sister Sofia have a father and 2 uncles who live in the States now and paint houses. Rodolfo and Kris, I gave them a packet of those M&Ms you gave me and some of the Symphony bar. Instant friends. We spent the whole afternoon together, drawing pictures, teaching each other words, and talking about our families. It was amazing. The thing is, though, these kids don't know not to talk to strangers... or, better yet, to take candy from them. At least they were closer to home, though. And they were amazing kids.

Tonight I trekked all the way across town with Aneesha, Erendira, Clea, Erica, and Simone to the only Blockbuster in town and rented Nicotina. None of us know what it's about, but it has that adorable guy from Havana Nights and Y Tu Mamá También, so it can't be all that bad. At least that was our reasoning. I'll let you know how it turns out. Have a good Friday night, everyone! Peace be with you!

Day 9: Becoming a Bag Lady

"La mayoria prefiere tener la razon que ser feliz."

("The majority of people prefer being right over being happy.")

-Wall art at Ten-Ten-Pie

9:00 pm

I met an ex-guerilla this morning. An ex-guerilla who happens to be a woman. Julie DuRand is married to Cliff, the slightly eccentric overseer of the Center for Global Justice. She was born in Guatemala to a privileged family, and she would always see the poor and notice the class conflicts and the violence, and when she was 13 years old she left home, she said, because she couldn't stop asking "¿Porqué?" --"Why?" She was a very interesting lady. She told us a lot of things to make us think. The amazing thing was that I understood every word, even though she spoke in a very poetic form of Spanish. The things that she told us made a lot of sense, especially in the scope of the things that I saw in the campo. I tell you, I can't wait to get out there. I love San Miguel, it's an amazing town, but I have the feeling that my stay in the campo is going to be more than amazing. It's going to be life-altering.

Julie told talked about seeing life as a bag that should be filled with experiences, and she said that by the time you die, your bag should be so heavy that you won't be able to carry it anymore. She kept mentioning her various "lives;" which was a way of talking about all her different experiences in different places. She also said that it was important to not feel bad for the poor people we see; because although they are poor, it is a poverty of economics, not a poverty of the heart or the soul or the spirit. Meanwhile, people who rush around all day for no particular reason and don't get a chance to enjoy the world around them are the ones who deserve our pity. "Just be happy today," she said. "Not tomorrow, not the day after, but today. Not for me, not for anyone else, but for yourself. Just be happy." I thought it was the best advice I had heard in a long time.

Tonight we went to a fun restaurant called Ten-Ten-Pie. I had sopes de pollo, which were like little fat tortillas that were formed like plates, and there were beans and avocado and tomato and cheese and chicken in the little fat-tortilla-plate. The guacamole was great, too, and everyone was raving about how great their respective dishes were. And, let me tell you, it's very hard to please all of us at once, because we have a few vegetarians, a few tightwads, and a few just really really picky eaters. But the food was amazing and really reasonably priced, unlike most of the restaurants around here that take advantage of the citizens of "Little America." The odd thing was, though, the restaurant doubled as a kind of art gallery, so as soon as we could get over the naked women staring at us from the walls, we were fine. We had fun, too, laughing and gossiping about our various professors that seem to have a lot of tension between them for some reason. (Did that sentence make sense? I am still having a hard time with English. Also, today I couldn't for the life of me remember if I was 19 or 20 years old. I had to really think about it. I must be getting too much sun.)

Tonight, as we were walking home, an adorable little boy with black eyes and chubby little hands came up to us to beg for money. I think I may go back there tomorrow to talk to him and see where his parents are and see if he might have some insight for my research. He was so sad and so beautiful.

Those hummingbirds keep coming back in droves. I got a pretty good picture today, but it's not great. I'm going to get at least one great one before I leave. It's funny, I sit out here in the courtyard with my readings, and every time the hummingbirds come back, I quietly sit and try to take good pictures of them. They are so cute! So, here is the good picture...

I miss you all, but I am falling more in love with Mexico every day. I already feel that by the time I leave here, my "bag" that Julie was talking about is already going to be very, very heavy.

Day 8: On the Move (Just Up the Street)

"El mundo puede cambiar; sólo hay que intentarlo. No hay que odiar, hay que amar. No hay que odiar, hay que amar. Hay que intentar, hay que intentar. No hay que perder la fé. Dame fé, dame alas, dame fuerza para sobrevivir en este mundo."

("The world could change; we just have to try. There's no reason to hate, we must love. There's no reason to hate, we must love. We have to try, we have to try. There's no reason to lose faith. Give me faith, give me wings, give me strength to survive in this world.")

-"Fé," by Maná

8:30 pm

This afternoon, we went into town to just explore a little bit. We found a fun little city garden with lots of kids playing and I found a knockoff version of the pineapple soda that I love. We went to a bagel joint and I ordered a fajita; go figure. It was a great fajita, though. Also, I wrote postcards and sent them today; did you know it costs 10.50 pesos to mail a postcard to the US?! That's almost a full American dollar! All I've got to say is that my little cousins better appreciate those silly postcards! And it seems as though the Mexican postal service tries to make up for the fact that the stamp costs so much by making it a really, really big stamp. I was covering up parts of the names and addresses on some cards, until the lady finally stopped staring (and probably laughing inside) and told me that the stamp could be folded over the edge if need be. Gee, thanks.

The other news from today is that the Pepto-Bismol pink upper room is no longer mine! I'm moving up in the world, or actually just moving down... the street. There are two high school girls (Crazy Jane's granddaughter and a friend) coming to work at the Center for Global Justice, and though my new room is slightly more accommodating for two people, it is also slightly less supervised, which has Jane worried. So. The two girls get jammed into that fun, though cramped, third floor room, and I get this fun subroom of the coveted "apartment" where our supervisor, Peggy, and her husband stayed previously. They moved across the complex. My new room is great! It has huge windows on every wall; one is a huge circle that takes up an entire wall. I have another (just one) patio in front of my door, and the apartment complex is so exotic and pretty! Lots of plants and wrought iron stairs. It's also safe; it has a huge locking door to even get into the complex. But now I have a lot of keys to keep track of. I now live on the Segunda Privada de las Animas, the second private drive of Animas (Persons, but not People) street, about a block behind the Center. Here is a picture of my new room; it doesn't show very much because my new window room is huge compared to the old pink one! hehe


Also, I have to apologize because I know it's incredibly unladylike to keep talking about how weird the bathrooms are, but bear with me a second here. Did I mention that the shower at the Center was a huge square tub with no shower curtain? And I know I included a picture of the painted ceramic toilet and sink in the downstairs bathroom. But my new bathroom; this is a new thing altogether... The bathroom is like one big room, with not even a lip in the floor to keep the shower water in one area. Don't worry, I won't include any more pictures of the bathroom, though I might have to at least mention the baños secos after I get back from the campo.

Not much news. Reading, exploring, enjoying... same old, same old, if that's proper to say, even though I've only been here about a week. Thanks to everyone who has emailed me; I really appreciate it! I miss you guys; take care of yourselves in my absence!

Day 7: Missions and Magicians, on Mexican Time

8:30 pm

This morning I woke up at 6:30 am to be ready to leave for the campo by 7 o'clock as Atagualpa and Yolanda, two of our supervisors, told us. We should have known better; "Aquí es México," so they say. Which means that things here run on "Mexican time." Which mostly means, be ready about 30 minutes after scheduled; if not later.

The rural village of Cruz del Palmar is only about 20 miles away from San Miguel de Allende, but it takes more than an hour to get there by way of winding dirt roads. Once we got there, Atagualpa got out of the van to go looking for Doña Vicenta, a woman who was going to "show us around." He walked a little ways up the hill and then disappeared. About 20 minutes later, he came walking up the hill on the other side (?) with a very small old woman. Doña Vicenta welcomed us with open arms and was very excited to see us, even though she didn't speak a word of English (neither did any of the other campesinos that we met) and she couldn't really pronounce any of our names except for Erendira's. (My name has now evolved into something close to "Iyahsha.") Three of the group are going to be staying in Cruz del Palmar next week, and she even seemed a little disappointed that all seven of us weren't staying. She took us around and introduced us to the three families that will be hosting Aneesha, Johanna, and Clea. After that, she said that she was going to "show us around a little." What followed was an amazing 5-hour live exposé of what life is like in the campo. I have no idea how far we actually walked, but we left the community far behind and hiked up the dried river bed of the Río Laja, passing people going about their daily business. I swear, it was like they were all on cue, in place for our tour of the countryside.

Our first stop was at one spot where there still was a little water left in a large puddle. The people of the community have noticed "tierra negra" ("black earth") in their already-questionable water pipes lately. It seems to be some sort of pollution, making their water unsafer than usual. Atagualpa, who is a little crazy, developed two theories: one, that the Cruzdelpalmareños are sitting on top of an oil reserve and are going to either be very rich or severely exploited soon, or, two, that the government is hiding something, which seems to be a classic Ata theory. The people down at the river were cleaning the community water pipes with long pieces of rhebar, like so.



Farther up the riverbed, we saw an extraction project, which is how this community makes all of its money. They separate the riverbed sand from the rocks by hand, with hand shovels and huge sieves, and then sell them separately to rich gringo construction projects in San Miguel. It seems like very hard work, and very rough on the environment. But then, farther upstream, we saw how they build a mini-dam and then let the river heal itself by backing up at the dam and filling in the holes with new sand that it carries from upriver. The riverbed was dry now, but in the rainy season, it flash floods, and Doña Vicenta told us that you can hear the river roaring as it "wakes up again." We also saw a man and his wife chopping wood in the middle of the riverbed, and acres and acres of sorgham plants (now is sorgham season) that varied in size and health depending on the owner's knowledge of irrigation techniques, and a man digging a deeper layer in a well. They dig up the mud and then let the dirt part settle, so there's water on top a little while later.



"How are you going to get out of there?" someone asked him in Spanish.

"With my wings, of course," he answered. A magician never reveals his secrets.

And then we went off on a hike all through the countryside, seeing the way that the people have learned over millenia to harness the power of the river, to redirect it, to use it to grow. Doña Vicenta showed us her little plot of land, that she was very proud of. Here you can see some of the people in our group, Johanna, Simone, Clea and Ata, in front of a sorgham field. Well, you can really only see Simone and Ata, but you get the idea. See how beautiful and green it is?



But then, not too far from Doña Vicenta's land, we saw a little white building up on the hillside. Cruz del Palmar is along the Ruta de las Capillas, or Chapel Route, in Guanajuato, so there are a lot of tiny chapels, built in mission times, that have mostly fallen into disrepair, into neglect, into the deepest parts of the people's minds, barely remembered. This was one such chapel. We were going to walk right past it, but I asked if we could go see it. Doña Vicenta shrugged and said, "Sure," and led the way up the hillside. Did I mention that for such a small, old lady, she could really book it? The rest of us were struggling to keep up with her. I asked what the chapel was called, and she had to dig very deep in her memory before she said, "Capilla Blanca." The White Church. It hadn't been touched; probably hadn't even been thought about, in years. It and the smaller surrounding shrines were dark, crumbling, long emptied by robbers. ("I remember that there used to be angels in here when I was a little girl," Doña Vicenta said.) There was nothing to particularly note it as a house of God except for a white cross scratched into the far wall, above the disintegrating altar. It was amazing. Even though there was nothing left but crumbling walls, I could tell that this place was once important. I could tell that God was still here. In the silence, the stillness, the whispering of the breeze through the doorway in the half-dark and the crumbling angel faces in the ceiling, somehow God was there.



(Here is a picture of me in front of the Capilla Blanca.)

Before we left, Ata had asked Doña Vicenta if we could be back to town by 2 pm so we could get back to San Miguel. "Well, I don't have a watch," she had said, "And it seems to me that keeping track of time is a waste of it. But I´ll do what I can." So, at about 10 till 2, I was thinking that maybe having a watch wasn't such a bad idea. We had been walking for hours; we must have been miles away from the village by now. But then, all of a sudden, she cut a straight perpendicular line to our path and headed directly up the side of the mountain. We followed obediently, panting the whole way. When we came down on the other side, there was the village. Amazing. I looked at my watch as we were walking into town; 1:59 pm. A magician never reveals her secrets. (And so much for "Mexican Time" Theory. I guess now we know the secret; take away their watches! hehe)

Then we left for home. I can't wait to go live in the countryside; I'll be living next week in a village called Cienegilla. Here is a picture of a few of my new friends, on our way home: (from the left) Simone, Aneesha, Erendira, and Erica.


Today was an amazing day. It's the strangest thing. "You can be anyone you want to be in Mexico," Peggy, our other supervisor said today. Anything can happen here. It's a whole other world. The air is all at once hot from the sun and cool from the wind. The sky is all at once the highest and biggest I've ever seen it, and still so close that if I could jump a little higher I might be able to bring a handful home in my pocket to all of you. My heart is all at once longing to be home with all of you, and longing to never have to leave this place. There is an otherworldly beauty here; something that I can feel, though I can't quite understand. It's something that wakes me up inside; something that makes me feel much more alive than I have felt in a very long time.

Day 6: All Quiet on the Western Front... (...Except for that Enthusiastic Corn Vendor)

9:55 pm

Today was just one of those slow and amazing days. I actually did some work today (Yes, Mom, I AM here for a reason, hehe). I went to the FAI (Save the Children Mexico) office and talked to a really nice guy there. My Spanish is already getting so much better. I think I understood about 98% of what he said to me. Unfortunately, though, my English is deteriorating rapidly. I'm finding it very difficult to construct complex sentences, and my copy-editor eye is just sailing over all my spelling mistakes. Today I honestly couldn't remember if the word "passion" was supposed to have two s's or not.

As far as the interview, it was very interesting. He gave me a lot of stuff to read. I can already tell that my work here is going to be fascinating, but heartbreaking. My specific project is researching the effects of immigration on the children that are left behind by migrant fathers and brothers. I will also concentrate on the changes in family dynamics, about what life in the campo is like for the geographic-bachelorettes. (Is that a word? I know they always talk about geo-bachelors.) I guess I should say the geographic single mothers, since that's what they are, anyway. Like I said, it's going to be fascinating, but heartbreaking work. I spent the entire afternoon just reading the studies the FAI guy gave me, but it almost wasn't even like work because it was so fascinating and I was out here on the back patio all afternoon; just enjoying the garden and the hummingbirds and the fresh mountain air. A guy passed by a little while ago, selling corn, and he was advertising his goods by yelling at the top of his lungs something like "eh-LO-teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh." The thing is, he yelled it about 30 times in a row and we were laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. The word he was saying was Helotes, so I thought of home and smiled. I miss you all-- keep writing! Tomorrow we are taking a day trip to the campo just to scope things out. I hope you have a beautiful day!

Day 5: PAN? What about pan de vida?

10:10 pm

So... is your home parish as huge and beautiful and historic and featured on as many postcards as this church, the amazing Baroque parroquia that I attended today?

Ever since I got here; actually, ever since I first saw pictures of San Miguel de Allende and saw this church in all those photos, I wanted to come to Mass here. And today I did; my first Spanish Mass in a long while, and, I think, my third in history. Rodi and Kris, you'll be happy to hear that the "Mi Primera Comunión" book that you gave me as a joke came in very handy. And, those of you who have heard anything at all about my "new friends" will be surprised to hear that three of them: Simone, Erica, and Aneesha, came with me to Mass... I think, as a way to "experience the local culture" or some such nonsense, but, hey, at least we got them in the door, right?

On the way to Mass, we had to wade straight through a political rally that was all but picketing across the front door of the church, completely by coincidence. The "public garden," or town square, of San Miguel just happens to be right in front of the parroquia. And the political rally, for the PAN (Party of National Action) party, just happened to be in the town square. Just as Mass happened to be happening. So. We could hear shouts and yells and crowd-pleasing Reggaeton hits through the walls of the church as Mass was going on. The amazing thing, though, was that during certain times in the Mass, like when we were all singing the Alleluia (which, amazingly enough, has the same words in English and Spanish, hehe), we completely drowned out the rabid crowd outside. Our voices echoed up and into the high vaulted ceilings and through the centuries-old rafters. It was amazing. Also, I took the Eucharist straight to the mouth for the first time today; a little odd to have someone stick their finger in your mouth, though, strangely enough, not that gross. I did it to avoid culture shock confusion on the part of the priest. Also, the little altar boy had a long brass paddle to use as a sort of fancy crumb-catching bib, following the priest's hands in case he happened to drop anything. That was kind of funny.

This morning we went to check out the Artisan's market, but I went with Aneesha and Clea, and the prices seemed a little inflated to us. We figured we must be facing the notorious gringo tax that Jane had warned us about. We plan to go back another day with Erendira and Johanna, our Hispanic secret weapons, and see if the artesanos can't cut us a better deal. The PAN Party's party has been raging all day long in the public square; this morning we saw some amazing indigenous dances where the men were wearing less than the women. The drums were so loud that they made my whole body buzz. I also finally found the only bottle of Piña Jarritos in this entire town. I thought for sure that they would be everywhere, but apparently this Mexican soda is more popular in Texas than in it's own motherland. Or else it's just so popular that shopkeepers can't keep it in the shop. Tonight we went to a little cafe with a big balcony overlooking the public square, just as the sun was setting. Wow.

(Sorry, Mom, I'm really tired, so the jet-lag style of writing is coming back, I know.) Just wanted to let you guys know what I'm up to and how much I miss all of you. Have a blessed day and think of me-- you know I'm thinking of all of you.

Day 4 (Evening): TODAY: On Sale Here

9:05 pm

This morning, on the way to the botanical gardens, I saw a sign outside a store that said "se vende HOY aquí." ("TODAY: on sale here") Now, those of you who are familiar with Spanish language periodicals would recognize the title Hoy right away and keep right on moving. But, for me, maybe it was the way that the light-paved Calzada de la Luz was making the buildings glow, the odd hot-cold mountain air, or the fact that I was just so happy to be here, but when I saw the sign, I thought to myself, TODAY: on sale here, and I started humming "Who Will Buy This Beautiful Morning?" ("Oh, my, I don't want to lose it, so what am I to do to keep the sky so blue? There must be someone who will buy...")

In case you can't tell, I find this town perfectly suited to my dramatic, romantic, dreamer side.

The botanical gardens, though not quite what I expected, were beautiful in their own desert arroyo kind of way. To me, when I think of botanical gardens, I think of bright colors and exotic flowers, probably an assumption based on past trips to Hawaii. So, I was a little taken aback at first to realize that this particular botanical garden was the home to over a thousand varieties of cactus... and little else. But soon I realized that even the cactus could be beautiful. I never knew that there were so many kinds. There was also a canyon and a floodplain that had chest-high plants and a dam across it. We sat on the dam for a while and had collective quiet time.

None of my pictures from today turned out all that well, and besides, I think that pictures without people get pretty boring, so I'll have some of my new friends take pictures of me doing San-Miguel-ish things soon.

We walked home from the botanical gardens and got back just in time to see the Mexico - Argentina soccer game. The entire town was out and in the restaurants to see the game; we finally found a place to sit and watch after walking up and down almost every street in the town. We climbed the narrowest, steepest winding staircase I've ever seen in my life to a teetery little balcony in a smoky bar that could have safely held about 20 people (it seemed like there were about 200 in there). The balcony was so close to the ceiling that some of the men up there had to stoop to move around. I had some sugar right before I went, so I was bouncing off the walls. I wish I had been that awake for the Ecuador game... When Mexico scored their first (and, sadly, only) GOOOOOOOOOOOL, I leapt up from my little corner of an unstable wooden bench... and cracked my head on a ceiling rafter so hard that I blacked out for a second. It was an exciting game, even if the outcome left the whole town sort of down in the dumps the rest of the day.

Then, this afternoon, we went to a free dance show at a little corner theatre. It was mostly folkloric and traditional Mexican dance with some hip-hop and ballet. There were lasso dances, breakdancing, and a traditional folclórico number where the dancers balance open jugs of water on their heads. Also, one of the dancers was probably the most beautifully formed human beings that I have ever seen. Unfortunately for me and my drooling friends, he also seeemed to be one of the most... ahem. Let´s say that he seemed to kick with the other foot, since that´s what they say in Spanish. Que lástima. The dancing was very good, but the professionalism of the show was about as professional as the shows that Abbie and I used to put on in the living room when we were kids. It was just very, very informal. Very, very Mexican. Afterwards, we went and ate enchiladas at a place called, get this, Las Enchiladas. They were amazing enchiladas.

Well, I promised no pictures without me in them, but I have to leave you with this fun parting shot from the botanical gardens...

...I HEART you all! Lots and lots of love!

Day 4 (Morning): The Heart of Mexico is Still Beating

10:18 am

This morning I woke up (finally) naturally, without any noises to wake me. I just wanted to mention that in response to a command from somebody that I love very much, I went straight out the door to one of my balconies and just smelled the air. The air was all at once cool from the mountains and hot from the sun, just like I said, and the air smelled fresh and beautiful. I think that today in San Miguel is a great day to be young and free and alive. And, if I listen closely enough, I can still hear the gentle thudding of the deep and ancient heartbeat of Mexico.

More to come...

Day 3: Pepto Pink and Matters of Practicality

9:30 pm

This morning I woke up to the sound of something like a very loud thudding heartbeat. I wasn't able to figure out what it was exactly, but in my half-awake stupor, I thought to myself, "¡Es el corazón de México!"-- "It's the heart of Mexico!" because that's what San Miguel de Allende calls itself in all of its tourist propoganda. I learned today that yesterday was the feast of the Sacred Heart, and that was the reason for all the bells that woke me up yesterday. Well, this morning I woke up to the sound of the Sacred Heart itself, and I'm not quite sure that I want to know exactly what it was, because my more romantic side wants to be able to dream about the Heart of Mexico.

Today I confronted a few more of the practical aspects of life in San Miguel; first, I had to wash some of my own clothes in the sink and then, get this, hang them on a line on my rooftop patio. I swear, it's straight out of Hemingway and I'm loving all of it. I am also trying to find ways to avoid the thin layer of dust that settles on everything. As soon as you stand up, your seat gets filled with dust. The computers, etc., are all covered in sheets when they're not in use.

Not much happened today. We discussed our individual projects this morning, and I think I may concentrate on the effect of migration on the family unit, particularly children. Mini-investigations begin next week, but we mostly get the weekend off. Tomorrow I'm going to the botanical gardens with some of the other interns.

I also forgot to mention yesterday what a small world it is after all. I went into town to the market with some of the other interns, and two of the girls stopped off at a birrieria for lunch. "We're getting birria!" they said, "You should try some." Since I had know idea what birria was, I took a leap of faith and ordered a bowl, keeping in mind that I wouldn't eat it if it looked at all sketchy. So, I ask for birria and the lady hands me... a bowl of pho. I swear! It's exactly the same as that Vietnamese soup that we love, except here you're supposed to put hot sauce in it! Que locura, ¿no?

I promised more pictures, so here they are. First, here is my very own upper room; the Pepto-Bismol pink room with the two rooftop balconies. I am the only intern here without a roommate; mine simply never showed up. Not that I'm complaining. The room is mostly the right size for one person. But I wouldn't mind having to co-habitate in such a small space. I see these mini-sacrifices as a way to learn a little bit more about those who have less. My week in the campo is going to be amazing. Anyway, here's the room...

This is the top of the stairs leading up to my room.

And here is one of my rooftop balconies, and the proof that I washed and hung my own pants!

Here is our cozy sala, the main room.

The sala has a door that leads directly up to the back patio.

The back patio is amazing. It's so beautiful, and this is where we do most of our work.

See the hummingbird, right up and to the left of the arch?

The bouganvilleas are in full bloom.

Okay, personally, I feel that all these pictures are getting a little boring, so one more fun one and then we're done, I promise. At least for today, anyway.

I've got nothing for this one.

Anyway, now is my whining section. I want you all to EMAIL ME!!! I'm getting lonely without all of you! You all know my email, right? It's hppyjessa@yahoo.com and now you have no excuse! Thanks to those of you who HAVE kept in touch, especially to Claudia for here helpful comments to fill out the cultural holes in this blog...

I miss you all! God bless and have a happy day!

Day 2: My First Full Day in San Miguel de Allende

11:30 pm

This morning I awoke to the sound of the bells from the approximately five churches within a five-block area. I didn't mind it this morning, though I woke up a little confused as to where I was, but the bells probably won't be such a fresh awakening if they happen at that particular volume every single morning...

Speaking of fresh awakenings, I have found the cure for the common shower. For those of you who have ever complained that I take too long in the shower, I set a new record this morning at 4 minutes flat; shampooed, conditioned, soaped, and shaved. This is because the water was FRIGGIN' FREEZING!!! Four minutes, count 'em, and shivering violently the whole time. Also we're back to the whole brushing-your-teeth-from-a-water-bottle thing, since I really don't want to do anything to upset ole' Señor Monteczuma...

We had a discussion with another American college professor, Arthur (or Arturo) this morning, about migration, which is more of what I'm interested in, so it was cool. Then we watched a video called The Future of Food, which talked about genetically engineered foods and their fate worldwide, as well as the way that the American government subsidizes their crops and makes them so much cheaper, even in other countries, who then buy, say, American corn rather than Mexican corn. The Mexican government has outlawed the growing of genetically altered corn, while the US welcomes it and has even supported huge corporations in patent lawsuits against small farmers. It's an odd world, one that I still don't quite understand. But Mexico used to have 2,000 different types of corn, and now it has 200. That's still far more than the USA, which has come to value uniformity, mass production, and high profits rather than diversity, as far as crops are concerned. This whole thing may not be that interesting to you, but it's fascinating to me, and it makes our roadside pit stop for roasted corn all that more meaningful. I already feel as if I've been here forever.

Well, I promised pictures, so here are a few. Unfortunately, the didn't all come out that well because they were taken at dusk or later, but I promise more, and better, pictures soon. Till then, here they are...

the front of Calzada de la Luz #42:

Centro Para La Justicia Global: The Center for Global Justice!

A little father down Calzada de la Luz

A typical street in San Miguel... narrow sidewalks and brightly colored buildings.

See what I mean about the narrow streets (and sidewalks)?

The famous "parroquia..." I'll be going to mass there on Sunday; wow!

Tonight we went to hear "the best music in the world!" at a restaurant called Pueblo Viejo with two chic older ladies who are expatriates and friends of the people at the Center for Global Justice: Jane and Nancy. Jane was such a character; dressed in a Cruella DeVille-esque black and white striped jacket with a black mink collar. The whole expatriate culture fascinates me; I swear, it's something straight out of Hemingway. The music was good, though maybe not the best in the whole world as Jane and Nancy insisted. The band was called Mayahuel, named after a Mexican Indian goddess, and the musicians were good friends with Jane, who seems to be something of a local celebrity. Also, I had a Spanish lesson at Pueblo Viejo; since the drinking age in Mexico is 18, I had a glass of red wine. But I asked for vino rojo, and the waiter told me that in Spanish, it's called vino tinto. However, when I had finished, a busboy came by to ask each of us if we wanted more vino rojo. I don't know if he was making fun of us, or if the other guy was just more cultured, more particular, or more concieted than the busboy. Any comments, all you hispanohablantes? I also have another question for all of you; would someone like to explain this sign to me?

It's a really bad quality picture, but it's a sign from Pueblo Viejo, next to a wagon, that says, "El que tenga vurros que los amarre y el que no... po's no" Any ideas?

Anyway, more pictures, and more news later. God bless you all in my absence!

Con cariño

Day 1: I'm here!

8:30pm

My first night in San Miguel de Allende, and I think that I have already fallen in love.

But first things first. I woke up at 3:30 this morning... pretty painful considering the Girls State hangover and all. The Houston leg of my flight was uneventful, but the leg to Mexico City, I had two little girls behind me who alternately kicked the back of my chair and sang Las Mañanitas and The Itsy-Bitsy Spider at the tops of their lungs (bilingual preschool anyone?). Remarkably, I was still tired enough to sleep through most of it. When I got off in Mexico City, they told me to go claim my bags, take them through customs, and bring them back. So, imagine my surprise when the last bag was claimed and I watched the carousel grind to a halt... and my bags were nowhere in sight. You would all be proud of me. I did NOT panic. At least, not quite. As it turned out, I had to go through customs in Queretaro instead, and my bags were going straight there. So. I checked in with my other airline, found my gate, and when they called for boarding, I climbed down the stairs (jetways seem to be mostly dispensible here), and I found at the bottom of the stairs... a bus. A slightly smaller, slightly dingier version of the 100 bus to the airport in Austin. That was a new one. But I went with it. The bus wound in and out of the normal jetway traffic, between taxiing planes and abnormally long luggage trains... I tell you, that ride was enough to make anyone religious. At least we didn't try and cut in front of any planes that were taking off. Finally we got to the other side of the runway, and our plane was the singular smallest commercial plane I had ever seen. It was mostly empty-- there were nine people on my flight and they told us not to move around... for balance reasons. It was a very bumpy and scary flight. Kind of like the Rattler, without the shoulder harness. And then, the Queretaro airport was the singular smallest airport I have ever seen. Two commercial flights per day. The luggage train was an overgrown Radio Flyer, and the baggage carousel was mostly manually driven. But I had my own private little customs area there, and the semáforo fiscal wasn't going to let its one daily customer by without an inspection-- I got red-lighted and had to open up my bags in front of a bunch of men. But the two guys who brought me to San Miguel were cool-- they insisted at one point that we stop off on the side of the road for roasted corn. The driver paid. The corn sellers mostly walk out their back door and through the cornfield in the morning, picking stalks as they go, and then they set up their tarp on the side of the road and sell roasted corn with lime and chili powder for the rest of the day. At one point, a car cut us off and the driver threw the "Hook 'em" sign at the slow car as we passed. I thought of Sebastián. There were donkeys, horses, entire flocks of sheep, all grazing unattended and unfenced, dangerously close to the road. Buildings painted in bold, bright colors, as if the brightness could hide the fact that a new coat of paint was the only repair done on the buildings in years. Then, finally, we arrived in San Miguel de Allende, the self-proclaimed heart of Mexico.

Then, it was straight to work. We had a discussion, which began ten minutes after I arrived, about the Zapatista movement worldwide. When that was over, I ventured into the town with some of the other girls to find some bottled water and a money changer.

The town is amazing. I got the chance to explore it just a little this afternoon, but I already know that this town is going to hold a special place in my heart for a very long time. My room is on the third floor of the compound, and I have, not one, but TWO rooftop balconies straight off my room. There is a courtyard with bouganvilleas in full bloom, which is where I am sitting now, and a hummingbird just flew past. (There will be pictures on this blog at some point, I promise.)The building is very uneven, as are the extremely narrow cobblestone streets of the town. But everything is painted in very bright colors, and my Spanish is a lot better than I thought it had become in the past few months. I live on a street called Calzada de la Luz, which means something like Street of Light. But since calzada actually means something closer to pavement, it seems to me that the street is named after the fact that it is paved with light... you know how they always say that in the land of plenty, the streets are paved with gold? There are many people here who don't have much. But I would say that the streets of San Miguel de Allende are paved with light. Today, all I saw was the quiet and still golden light of the afternoon on the streets. There were children playing alongside stooped old men, enough Americans that I didn't feel self-concious to be there, and two-way traffic flying by pedestrians on a street that should only safely hold one car across. I don't know much about the town yet, or everything that's going to happen here, but I have a feeling that it's going to be great. Today, as I was walking back from the market with two of my new friends, a $2 pineapple in one hand and a huge smile on my face, I suddenly realized something.

I am all alone in a foreign country.

But, best of all, I am not afraid.



PS. I love you and miss you all! If you want to write to me, send it to this address in Laredo and they'll forward it here. ¡Vaya con Dios!

Center for Global Justice
9902 Crystal Court Suite 107
BC-2323
Laredo, TX 78045