Day 26 (My Last Day): Milagros

7:36 pm

I can't believe that I am coming home tomorrow. My time here is up, and tomorrow morning I hop on a plane and come back to my home in the United States. This will be my last entry on this blog, but all good things must come to an end.

Today was a perfect last day; I spent the morning packing and then afterwards I went out to experience the city for one of the last times; just sitting, walking, watching, eating ice cream and memorizing everything. The city is so beautiful and I know that I am going to miss it here very much. But I'll be back someday; I already know it.

Before I finish this blog, I want to mention one other thing about my experience in the campo. On Day 17 (July 7) we went to Maestro León's house for a temascal. A temascal is an indigenous Otomi sweat lodge ritual. They built a half-sphere structure out of rhebar and thin tree branches, with one opening; a small door pointing in the direction of the rising sun.

In the middle of the floor, which is also covered in thin tree branches, there was a brick pit where they put hot stones, fresh from the fire. They pulled a big blue tarp over the top of the temascal hut so the air couldn't escape. Before we went in, they gave us each a length of orange ribbon, to signify the people that we love who couldn't be there with us. It was for all of you. And then eight of us piled into the hut in a circle around the rocks. The leader pours cool herb water over the rocks, creating sweet-smelling hot steam. And we began to sweat. And sweat and sweat and sweat. And talk. There were four "conversations," where we went around the circle and each said something about a particular subject; what God has done for us, what we can do to protect our Earth, and so on. Between each conversation, there was singing. And sweating. I was soaking wet with sweat, but oddly, I didn't mind it. My skin was hot to the touch. I was wearing my pajama shorts, which were the only shorts I had brought with me to Cieneguilla, and they were getting soaked straight through with sweat and getting muddy from the dirt beneath me and green streaked from the tree branches. But I didn't even mind it. After the last song, we were told to exit headfirst, because it was like being born into the world anew. So we exited, one by one. When it was my turn, I pushed out the tiny door that faced the rising sun, dripping with sweat and still clutching my orange ribbon, which was wet by association. Just as the first breath of cool mountain air filled my lungs, a painful, piercing breath, a brightly woven Mexican "recieving" blanket was thrown over my head. I wrapped myself in it and collapsed on the blue tarp outside the hut, alongside the others that had already exited. I disentangled my head from the blanket, and as I was looking up through the tree branches, I realized that it was like being born. It was like seeing the sun for the first time, seeing the sky for the first time, seeing the world for the first time. In ways I don't even know, Mexico has made me a new person.

That place will always be in my heart; the cool early mornings of Cieneguilla; the smell of cooking tortillas; the soft hands and face of little Anita Karen; the beautiful night of the change of the mayordomos, when we walked along behind the saint statues in the dark praying the rosary; the lines across the sky; the sign of the cross with the smoke and the flowers falling all down my face. And San Miguel; the spires of the parroquia; the winding uneven streets; the sky and the air, always the air.

Tonight I went to Mass for the last time at the parroquia. We went to a park on the far side of town, so I came from an unfamiliar direction. There was this postcard I had bought of the parroquia, but I couldn't figure out what angle it was from, because it had a beautiful dome in front of it that I didn't recognize. I was walking toward the church, unsure of where I was and a little worried that I wasn't going to be on time to church. But then, all of a sudden, I took a side road on a whim, and suddenly, I rounded the corner and looked up the street, and I saw... There was the parroquia, a lot closer than I thought it was, from the angle that I hadn't seen before. It was amazing.

When I had been to church on other days, I had seen a statue of Jesus in the church that had pictures and prayer requests and milagros pinned to it. A milagro is a little cheap metal charm that serves as a sort of prayer request in Mexico. People buy one to correspond to their prayer request; an arm for arm problems, a coin for money problems, a cross for faith problems. But the word milagro in Spanish also means miracle. People usually pin a small paper with their prayer request to the milagro, asking for their milagro or giving thanks for their own milagro; their miracle.

Mexico has been my own milagro. I wanted to leave something behind in thanks. The one I brought was a heart. The Heart of Mexico.

After Mass today, I went and pinned it with a little piece of paper to Jesus' long purple robe. I knelt to pray in thanks and when I stood up, a small grey flurry of motion flew into the side of my leg, there in the church. It was a bird; a very small and very scared gray and black pidgeon, partly blown in by the wind and partly chased in by the 5-year-old child who followed soon after. The child picked up the bird and carried it out the side door of the church. I was speechless. I think that God wanted a way to say that he was hearing me. I think that God wanted to comfort me, to let me know that He will be with me, even when I can't be here.

My paper that was pinned together with the Heart of Mexico to Jesus' robe was a message of Thanksgiving for this beautiful place, my beautiful memories, and the almost inaudible heartbeat of the mountains and the valleys and the sky, a heartbeat that will softly thud in my dreams for a long time. And this is what it said:



"HIJA, TU FÉ TE HA CURADO"
(Daughter, your faith has made you whole)

Thank you, Lord, for bringing me back to life.

Thank you, Lord, for Mexico.

The End

Day 25: Guanajuato, Inside and Out (literally)

9:50 pm

This morning we got up at what felt like waaaay to early to go and catch a bus for our day trip to the city of Guanajuato. The six of us piled into a tiny taxi and went to the bus station. Our trip to Guanajuato was terrible; we were stuck in the back, so it was bumpy and smelly (near the bathroom) with no air circulation and I almost yakked several times. By the time we finally got there, we all piled out of the bus, gasping for air. And we were in Guanajuato.

We caught another cab (two cabs for the six of us this time) and went to meet our teachers at the Iconographic Museum of Don Quixote. That's right, Don Quixote de la Mancha. Apparently, back in the days that the mining economy of Guanajuato was in decline, they decided they needed a new gig. So they declared themselves a cultural center of Mexico and took as their literary patron saint the old oddball dreamer that was already very dear to the people of Spain; Don Quixote himself. The museum was a collection of various paintings, etchings, drawings, ceramics, sculptures, murals, and even a deck of playing cards that were all depicting or inspired by Don Quixote. I never knew that there were so many people from so many different eras and parts of the world that were inspired by that story. It also showed me that any single subject can inspire a very wide spectrum of reactions. If you'd like to see some of the works and learn more, their website is located at http://museoiconografico.guanajuato.gob.mx/ .

Then we decided to take the bus up to the mines on the outskirts of Guanajuato, which once kept the town booming and have long since been depleted. We went to a mine called San Ramón, but not after a long bus ride up the side of the mountain with a bus fuller than the UT Forty Acres during a passing period. And they kept letting more people on. And a guy walked through the aisle of the bus, pushing and nudging, to collect fares AFTER the bus was already moving. Let´s just say it´s a way to make new friends fast.

The best part of the mine visit was when we actually went down INTO the mine. We had to climb down a flight of very steep steps with a very low ceiling to get down there, not for the very claustrophobic or tall... ahem.



Later we saw a map of what all the mines under Guanajuato looked like before they were all shut down, and there was layer after layer after layer of tunnels. They must have been at least 2000 feet under the Earth. I can´t imagine being that deep under the Earth; the one we were in was only 25 meters below ground and I already missed the sun.


Also, something else interesting about Guanajuato is that a lot of its major streets are tunnels under the city. So a big part of Guanajuato´s existence is underground. We definitely saw Guanajuato, both inside and out, today.

After the mines we had lunch and then went shopping at the Mercado Hidalgo. I was so happy, because I got the chance to buy souvenirs for my little cousins and everyone; I hadn't found anything good in San Miguel. We also got the chance to explore the town a little bit. It´s a beautiful city. It´s definitely more of a city than San Miguel, which is relatively small. The two towns are very different, but I love them both. They are both so beautiful and there is so much to explore and learn there.


This is Aneesha, Mickey, me, Peggy, Daphne, David, Simone, Laura, and Clea on a typical Guanajuato street. See how vertical the background is? Guanajuato is in a valley, and it seems that they built directly into the sides of the valley. That´s part of the reason they need tunnels to get around.


Hmm... Kinda creepy. This face is about 4 feet tall and sticking out of the side of a building on the street.




This is Laura, one of the high school interns, and me playing around with one of the "musicians" in downtown Guanajuato.

Then, before we went home, we stopped for ice cream at a place called Michoacana. I ordered Choco-Chip ice cream, and, oddly enough, the ice cream part was a medium yellow color. (The chocolate chips were regular.) I think they put a lot of butter in the ice cream, because it tasted different than usual ice cream (And I don´t think I´ve ever seen yellow chocolate chip ice cream before). But it was really really good. They have Michoacana stores in San Miguel; maybe it´s a good thing I only discovered their ice cream this late in my stay, hehe.

I can´t believe how soon I´ll be home. Tomorrow is my last full day here in Mexico. I can´t believe how the time has flown! But I miss you all, and even though I will miss Mexico after I´m gone, I´ll be so glad to be home with all of you.

Day 24: Already Almost Missing Mexico

8:37 pm

I can't believe that I'm coming home on Monday! I only have one weekend left here in beautiful Mexico. Tomorrow we're taking a day trip to Guanajuato, the capitol city of this beautiful state, and it's going to be amazing!

Here is a group picture from our farewell dinner last night...

Today I finished my paper, so my official work here is done. (Yay! hehe) There are still a few pieces that I would like to write, about the campo, but mostly for my own benefit, so they can wait a little while. For now, I am doing my best to soak up what is left of Mexico for me.

Since not much happened today, I'll talk a little more about Cieneguilla.

Wednesday, July 5 and Thursday, July 6, 2006

Days 15 and 16: A Whole New World

Most of Wednesday, my first full day in the campo, was spent watching and learning and trying very hard to not look as awkward as I felt. The highlight of the day was when Erica and Simone stopped by for a visit in the afternoon. After more than 24 hours of straight Spanish and unfamiliar faces, I was so happy to see them that I almost ran to give them hugs. The majority of what I did on Wednesday was watching the amazing art form known to every woman in Cieneguilla and many men too: carrizo reed stripping and basket making.

First, this picture, from Doña Vicki's (Simone and Erica's) yard, shows the carrizo in three forms, so you can get a better idea of what it looks like. Sorry it's not that clear, but the long vertical plants in the background are carrizo growing. They grow about 15 feet long, maybe a little more. The pile in the foreground is harvested but unstripped carrizo, and the long light yellow reeds leaned against the tree on the right are old stripped carrizo, which are also used for firewood and fence building.

First, they strip all the leaves off the outside of the reed. Then they cut the reed straight down the middle to make two U-shaped halves. (This was the fatal step for my poor finger.) Then they decide whether they need wide pieces for the frame of the basket, really thin pieces for the sides of the basket, or medium-sized pieces for decoration. For the wide pieces, they pound the half flat and then strip the top layers of wood off till the carrizo is as thin as a ribbon. For small or medium pieces, they just subdivide the U-shaped half until the pieces are the right width, and then they just shave and shave and shave until it's thin enough to bend. And then they make the basket.

If you have any more questions, ask me later. I took a video, but for some reason I can't figure out how to post videos here.

Thursday I went to Doña Vicki's house again to see Simone and Erica. One of Doña Vicki's daughters, little Vicki, was graduating from "secondary" school, which is the equivalent of middle school. It seems like graduations at any level are very big deals here; I am not sure if it's because most people don't go to high school, or if these fun-loving people just look for any excuse to have a party. We went to the graduation, which had a lot of cool dances from different parts of Mexico in between the calling of names; I think they should do that at US graduations, to break the tedium. Just my opinion. We had a party at Doña Vicki's house later, which was fun. Simone and Erica and I ate jalapeños until we thought we would die and then we made a makeshift band from bottles (for the notes) and bottle caps (for the percussion). All the children were very amused. And then a fly flew into Simone's Corona and swam around without dying for about 20 minutes. Lovely.

Okay, I know I promised to stop talking about the bathrooms here, but I have to at least give you one last parting shot, of the shower at Doña Chabel's house. Keep in mind that this is in the middle of the backyard...

... You figure out how it works. I had to! hehe

I miss you all, but I'll be home soon.

Day 23: Writing Writing Writing Like a Madwoman!

9:39 pm

Hi everyone!

Not a lot happened today; I was mostly writing writing writing like a madwoman all day. I knew that sooner or later I was going to have to do some actual work, and today I guess it snuck up and bit me on the ankle. Luckily I got the bulk of it done; I cranked out 9 1/2 pages of my report, and I'm almost out of material to write about.

One cool thing that happened today was that Cliff, one of our teachers (who lives in San Miguel but doesn't speak Spanish-- does that tell you how many Americans live here?) was trying to talk to a guy about the big conference next week, but the guy barely spoke any English. So... they asked me to be their translator! That was pretty cool; that shows how much better my Spanish is getting.

Then tonight we all got together for one last time, because tomorrow morning Erica is leaving. So all six of us interns (me, Simone, Erica, Clea, Aneesha, and Johanna-- Erendira had to leave last week) and the two new high school interns (Daphne and Laura) and Peggy and Mike and Betsy and Bob and Ata and Cliff and Arturo and his wife and Gino, and Peggy's friend Mickey, all got together to have spaghetti and sopes and wine and we talked and talked and talked.

I know I promised to talk more about the campo tonight, but the problem is that I have no idea where to start. I guess what they say is that when you don't know where to start, just start at the very beginning. So I will.

Tuesday, July 4, 2006

Day 14: A Celebration of Independence

We arrived in Cieneguilla mid-morning and our first stop was the house of Doña Vicki, where Simone and Erica ended up staying. Her kitchen was a lean-to shack made of carrizo reeds; dirt floor, the whole bit. A completely separate building from all the bedrooms. She asked us if we wanted any breakfast, and before even waiting for an answer she started up with heating beans and making tortillas on a huge flat metal circle suspended over an open flame. Then she made a sort of egg and vegetable concoction, which looked really good. It made me wish that I ate eggs. Simone also doesn't eat eggs. When Doña Vicki saw that we were only eating the beans and tortillas, she asked what was wrong. As it turned out, Erica doesn't eat meat, I don't eat eggs, and Simone doesn't eat meat or eggs. So she asked us if we wanted nopales. Nopales. I knew that word. What was it? I realized I recognized it from hours of cutting up Lotería cards for projects. Doña Vicki ducked out the side door of the kitchen shack I started flipping through my mental rolodex of Lotería pictures; half-naked mermaids, tall black boots, soldiers, parrots, drunks, and... I landed on the correct picture just as Doña Vicki burst in the side door with a huge smile on her face and two handfuls of... cactus. Yes, cactus. Nopales were cactus. And we were going to eat them.



I was actually very surprised; I liked the way they tasted after they were cooked and cut, though they were unnecessarily slimy and of a slightly disgusting consistency. When you picked up a spoonful, it left behind a long snot-like string, like glue gun cobwebs. Yum. They were especially good with a little lime and salt.

Then, a little while later, we went to the house of Doña Chabel, the lady that I ended up staying with. We walked up to the top of a hill, the edge of her property, and it was beautiful. From there, we could see all the way across the valley. On the far side of the valley, where Tierra Blanca is, there was a message on the hill: Adorado Sea El Santísimo Sacramento; Ave Maria Purísima; 1958. (Adored Be the Blessed Sacrament; Hail Pure Mary; 1958. VERY Catholic.)
Here is a picture I took of the hill later, from Tierra Blanca.




Then they told us that two of us would stay with Doña Vicki and the third with Doña Chabel. Which meant that one of us would be alone. I was a little apprehensive about that, but since Erica and Simone are working together on their project, I figured it made sense for them to be together. I think they were relieved. I really had a great time, there, though, and I think I learned even more being there by myself. My week there was amazing.

The first night, Pera and Anita Karen and I went to the neighboring community of Tierra Blanca for a fiesta celebrating the feast day of Maria del Refugio. It was chaos; a huge grandstand where a bunch of cute boys were playing a cumbia, a dancing expedition, and a huge speaker system playing Reggaeton were all vying for the title of Loudest. There were carnival rides, peddlars of everything you could think of, and kids EVERYWHERE. I was the only non-Mexican face in the crowd, but by now I had grown almost accustomed to stares. First we went to the church to pray for a short time; the church, like all the churches here, was ancient and beautiful. But partway through our prayer time, a brass band came in the back of the church and started up playing. At first I was annoyed; wasn't there a better place for them to be playing? I knew it was loud outside, but really. Until I remembered that feast days were happy occaisions; a time to celebrate the blessings that the Lord has given us. And I couldn't think of a better place for that band to be playing.

This is a cross I saw at the fiesta; more on the significance of these beautiful symbols later.

Little Anita Karen had such a good time on the carnival rides. We all rode the bumper cars together, too. That was so much fun!

I felt a little sad whenever I thought about the fact that it was Independence Day and nobody here even knew. It was my first Independence Day away from the United States, and it made me a little homesick.

"Today is our Independence Day," I told Pera. "My friends are probably watching a fireworks show right now."

I didn't see any fireworks while we were at the fiesta, though there were lots of naval flares the entire week I was there; it scared the crap out of me the first time I heard it, but by the end of the week I barely even heard it. But then, just as we were walking away from the fiesta, one huge green firework went off right above the church. That made me so happy; it was like a little part of Independence Day found me all the way in the Mexican countryside. A way to celebrate my own independence; being alone in a foreign country, staying at Doña Chabel's house by myself; proving that there are things that I can do all on my own.

Day 22: Compound Sweet Compound

10:30 am

I got back to the land of running water and microwaves yesterday late afternoon. I'm sorry I didn't write anything on the blog yesterday, but by the time I got around to thinking about the computer, I was so tired that I didn't even want to unzip the case.

Anyway, I'm back! And none worse for the wear. Unless you count the scorpion stings that I already told you about, and Sunday night's slight mishap with a carrizo knife. I was stripping carrizo reeds with the ladies, and my knife (which looks like a little 10-inch machete) slipped and gashed my finger open. (Don't read this if you're weak of heart or stomach: I felt the knife hit the bone when I cut myself!) I don't think I need stitches, though, luckily. Band-Aids seem to be doing the trick. And, right after I cut myself, Doña Vicki put a slice of an "aloe cactus" plant on the cut, and the bleeding stopped for the most part. Folk medicine never ceases to amaze me.

I will now reward your patience with a few fun pictures of my stay in Cieneguilla...

This first picture is, I think, my favorite. Yesterday morning, my last morning there, I finally got up the courage to ask Doña Chabel if I could make tortillas with her. So I did, and, as you can see, they came out a little (okay, a lot) less than perfect. But, even better, I asked her to take a picture of me with my bad tortillas, but she had never taken a picture before in her life! And, as you can see, her first picture also came out a little less than perfect... But I love this picture because it's a picture of firsts and cross-cultural experiences.

Our first morning in Cieneguilla, at Doña Vicki's house. From the left, Betsy and Yolanda (who dropped us off), Simone, me, Erica, and Doña Vicki.

This is a picture of Simone, Auralia (one of the girls at Doña Vicki's house), Erica, and me in the "garden" (public square) in Cieneguilla.

This is Doña Chabel, stripping carrizo, so you can get a better idea of what it looks like.

This is me with my little Anita Karen. She is SO CUTE!!!

My host family: from the left, Doña Chabel, Don Primi, me, neighbor Ipolita, Esperanza and Ana Karen, and Doña Chabel's sister, who lives next door. I don't think she ever told me her name, they all just call her "sister."

This is Ana Karen with her grandmother, my host mother, Doña Chabel. She calls her "Ma Chabel," which I think is hilarious. Isn't this a sweet picture?

Anyway, that's it for now. Definitely more to come! Have a great day!

Day 19: News from the Middle of Nowhere

6:36 pm

Hello, everyone! Didn´t expect to hear from me so soon, hmm? Let me tell you, the very last thing that I ever expected to find here in Cieneguilla, Guanajuato, México, was... an INTERNET CAFÉ. If you can call this that. A few really old computers in a cement and cinderblock room with bars on the glassless windows. And mariachi music blaring in huge speakers at the door. Ah, México. Anyway, of course I had to find this "internet café" when it´s almost time for me to head back to civilization, hehe.

Anyway, I´ll just give a quick lowdown on my life here; I´ve been staying at the house of a very sweet old lady named Doña Chabel (which is short for Isabel). She lives with her husband, Don Primi (which is short for PRIMITIVO. What an odd name, right?) and two of her six children. The two children are 32-year-old Esperanza (whom they call Pera) and 26-year-old Maria de Lurdes (whom they call Lulu). I´m staying in Lulu´s room, and I really like her. She has a lot of patience with my Spanish and she is a very good listener. Also living there is Pera´s 3-year-old daughter, Ana Karen, who is absolutely adorable. She really likes me, too, though it didn´t seem that way at first. On the first day that I arrived, she made a point of ignoring me the entire afternoon, but the funny thing was that she made a point of ignoring me in whatever room I happened to be in. So she was following me around and ignoring me at the same time. I gave her the puzzle of the macaw, which she seemed uninterested in until she suddenly came and asked me to teach her how to play, and I think we´ve done it about 20 times since then. I am teaching her English and she is teaching me Spanish. It all works out.

I really like this town of Cieneguilla. It´s not quite as primitive as I thought it was going to be, though it´s still a long way from anything I´m used to. When I told Doña Chabel that I was going to use the Internet, I had to spend about 10 minutes explaining what the Internet was. I´ll spare you yet another description of the weird bathroom. Also, my Spanish is enough to get me by, though it´s not always enough to say what I want to. But the important thing is that I´m learning. I´m learning a lot about life here.

There are so few foreign visitors to this town that everyone in the town can still count them and name them all, or at least where they were from and what they were doing here. I´ve heard all about the Japanese lady who loved cats, the American teacher who meant to stay a week and left after one day, and the other two Global Justice interns that came to Cieneguilla last year. There are three of us this year. Simone and Erica live "across town" (well, as far across as can be) with a lady named Doña Vicki. I kind of like being at Doña Chabel's house by myself, though. And it seems that the family enjoys the sort of cosmopolitan status that they get by hosting me. However, at the same time, they seem slightly uncomfortable with me. Maybe uncomfortable isn´t quite the right word. They are at the very least amused by my tallness (Doña Chabel comes up to my shoulder and I nearly decapitate myself with the clothesline outside my door every morning), my blondeness, my güera-ness (lots and lots of stares), my awkwardness (they constantly insist on serving me, which I hate), my clumsiness (the one time they let me do the dishes, I broke a cup), my weird accent (I have to say most things two times), my impronouncable name (which has now deteriorated into various forms of "Yazzi," "Yassat," and, get this, "Zsa Zsa"), my stories about America (which they call "the Other Side"), my contact lenses, my chancla flip-flops, and my weird habits (I think this is part of the reason that little Anita Karen likes me so much; I´m like a big blonde slapstick clown).

I have had so many adventures so far, but since I´m paying for this Internet by the hour, I´ll have to fill you in on everything and all the details after I get back to San Miguel de Allende. I´ll give the highlights, though, for all of you inquiring minds...

One of the funniest stories (well, it´s funny now, but it wasn´t then) is the story where something got into my pants... (Don´t worry, Mom, hehe)

My second morning here, I think, I woke up and put on my jeans. It had rained the night before, and so a lot of the little critters from outside decided that they were going to move into the cinderblock house with us. On this particular rainy morning, a shiny little scorpion had set up shop in my pant leg. And this particular shiny little scorpion was very unhappy when my leg suddenly invaded his new home. So he stung me once, very hard. I saw pure white for a split second as pain shot up and down my leg and I yelled something, though I can´t remember if it was in English or Spanish or that odd half-language of pure emotion that everyone in the world understands. Anyway, Lulu was at my side in half a second flat, and I was ripping off my pants as he stung me again. By the time Lulu and I had disentangled my leg from my pants, he had stung me again. So I had one big sting and two small stings. The scorpion was dully smashed for his sins, and meanwhile I was sure that I was going to die of scorpion poisoning out here in the Mexican countryside. Luckily, it seems, God was taking care of me, because the type of scorpion that stung me is the kind that hurt but don´t kill. There are others that a sting will close your throat in minutes. Doña Chabel gave me a close Hispanic cousin of Vick´s Vapor Rub to put on the stings (?) and yes, it hurt, but I didn´t die. Throughout the day, as the poison made it´s way through my bloodstream, I would get hot flashes in random places on my arms or belly that would sting and then itch really bad. But, again, the important thing is that I didn´t die.

I have really been enjoying the local culture here in Cieneguilla. It just makes it that much more special to know that there aren´t very many outsiders who get to experience these things. There will definitely be more details about this later, but so far I´ve seen a middle school graduation and a kindergarten graduation, hours and hours of carrizo reed stripping and basket making, and lots of tortilla making (since you told me to watch, Ro, hehe). Also, we have made friends with the local know-it-all, a Maestro León, who is kind of like the local shaman, since things like shamans don´t exist here anymore. He knows everything, people say, because he asks lots of questions and he listens very closely. Maybe we should all try being more like him. He knows a lot about the dying Otomi culture in this area, that most people don´t remember a lot about. We went to a temascal (an Otomi sweat lodge ritual) at his house (definitely more about that later) and he took the three of us all around the valley, telling us about local communities and religious rites. The most interesting thing, in my opinion, is the religious life of this community. Yes, they are Catholic, but their particular brand of Catholicism is highly adapted to their environment and to the Otomi beliefs of their ancestors. God is everywhere here, not just in church, and there is an odd and very rigid system of how the Jesus and saint statues in the church are cared for. The statues take field trips through the valley occaisionally (kind of like the whole Penguino thing, if you think about it) and I was lucky enough to be here on the night of one of the field trips, which was last night. The system of how they are cared for, which is called¨"majordomía," as in "majordomo," decides who their chaperones will be on these field trips.

(Sorry, here´s a sidenote: a goat just wandered in and out the front door of this internet café. I love this place.)

I´ll definitely talk more about the religious life of this area later. There is still so much to do and to experience, and I only have a day and a half left! But I´d better go now, my time is running out. I´ll talk to you guys on Tuesday!

Lots and lots of love from "The Other Other Side!"

Day 13: What's Up, Doc? (See you in a week!)

6:30 pm

Today, our last day in San Miguel for a week, we took a field trip... to a CARROT farm! Okay, I know that sounds kind of silly, but it was actually pretty amazing. I never really thought about what a carrot plant looks like above ground, or what happens to it between the ground and the supermarket, but today I found out. We loaded on a school bus with a few of the eccentric older ex-pats who frequent the Center for Global Justice and headed for San Juan de la Vega, a little town to the South of San Miguel that has been there since the 1500s. The ex-pats were fun, though a little clueless; none of them could figure out how to let down the windows of the school bus, and few of them spoke enough Spanish to be taken seriously.

Also on the trip was Gino, Arturo's preteen son. He spent a leg of the bus ride trying to figure out which indegenous tribe each of us is from, which he deduced through some odd reasoning that only he understood. He asked us where each of us were from and used only that information. I guess in some places, it does work to ask where you live and then be able to deduce what you are. But he was having a hard time deducing what kind of indigenous Texan I was. Finally he told me that I looked like an Olmeca, if I didn't have blonde hair. I don't think anyone has ever told me that. I guess that's what happens when your mom is an indigenous Hondureña and your dad is a migration expert. I guess kids will be kids.

Our first stop was at the actual carrot farm, where they were harvesting the carrots. Take a look at this picture before I explain.

First, the guy with the pitchfork loosens up the earth. (Here he is shown just standing around, which they actually don't do that much.) Then other guys come in behind him and yank up the carrots by the plant. See, behind them? That's what carrot plants look like. Fascinating, right? Then, in a fraction of a second, the guy with the handful of carrot plant breaks off the stalks and separates the vegetables into big burlap sacks. Simultaneously, he throws any bad carrots out on the harvested land along with the plant part, which then serves as a kind of compost. Then they load the full bags onto a truck that takes them to be washed. They move so fast; it's amazing. I even got the chance to do it; check it out!

(hehe, At least I'm not in front of a bell tower!)

It was amazing; I peeled one of the carrots with a key and ate it right there! (Don't worry; they told us they hadn't used pesticides in over 6 months, and as long as we didn't eat any peel we were fine. I'm being careful, Mom.) It was the sweetest, juiciest carrot I have ever tasted; it was almost like a fruit. And it was straight out of the Earth.

Then our next stop was at a school, where these two boys gave a presentation on a water filtration system they invented to reuse the water that cleans the carrots up to four times. This would solve a lot of the town's water problems, if they could implement this. The boys won an award in Mexico for this, and are going to Spain this summer to present to some global organization that may also award them something.

Our last stop was at an actual carrot washing operation, where the work almost came to a screeching halt when all of the workers (mostly guys in their mid-20s, it seemed) saw the seven of us young female interns coming (along with all the ex-pats). They were amazed that we spoke Spanish, too, but soon they were rushed back to work so we could see how it all goes.

They dump the bags of carrots straight off the truck into a washer, which rolls them around in the water till all the mud comes off. (This is the step where the boy's invention will help save water.) Then the carrots come out of the washer along a conveyor belt in spurts, where the men stand and separate them by size. As the carrots roll past, the first guy grabs the big ones and bags them, the next guys grab medium-sized carrots and bag them, and so on. Some of these carrots are sold in Mexico, and some are sold in the USA.

As we were leaving, one of the young guys handed me a really big carrot and said something in Spanish along the lines of, "Here, Blondie, something to remember me by." Though I don't think he meant it quite as... um... suggestively as it came off. That warranted lots of giggles from the other interns. He was pretty cute.

My little friends in the alley are multiplying exponentially-- today I met five more little boys and another little girl (who, amazingly enough, all already knew my name) and a three-inch turtle (who may or may not have known my name; I didn't ask him. His name was Francisco, in case you were wondering).

And... tomorrow morning I go to Cieneguilla for a week! I'll be away from the phone and the computer and the running water until next Tuesday, so I won't be writing on this blog or emailing you guys till then! Try not to miss me too much! hehe I know I'll miss you. I'll be thinking of you.

Have an amazing week! I can't wait to hear about it when I get back to civilization! hehe

I love you all

Day 12: A Double Dose of Dios

11:10 pm

Happy Mexican Election Day, everyone! Happy Sunday!

This morning I went with Yolanda, one of my supervisors, to her church, Cristo Roca Eterna (Christ the Eternal Rock). It was a Protestant church, but it was still cool. It felt kind of like the churches of my childhood. After the service, we ate a big lunch that they had cooked; it was really really good and everyone was really friendly. Then I went back to the big parroquia church for Mass tonight, so I got my double dose of church for the day.

Today was Simone's birthday, so we went out to dinner at this cute little restaurant called Las Posaditas. It had a roof patio, so we went out there to sit, but then it looked like it was about to start pouring and it got really windy, so we went inside. It was a cute restaurant, but our waiter seemed more than a little flustered and frustrated. Here is a picture of the view from the patio... Isn't it gorgeous?

And here is a cute picture that Clea took of us at the Bagel Cafe the other day; from the left: Aneesha, Erica, Simone, and me.

In the Jardin, in front of the parroquia this evening there were a lot of kids with cheap foil and mylar versions of those Foxtail toys that used to be really popular. There are wandering peddlars that sell them in the public square. Just as the sun was setting, the children would wind up their arms and fling the ball end as high into the sky as it would go; which was pretty high, considering the size of some of those kids. The mylar caught the setting sun and sent spikes of white hot light into the eyes of the mystified children before gravity won (Gravity always wins.) and brought the ball back to the ground with a high bounce, the long, shiny tail streaming behind. There were so many of these toys, so many flying points of light, so many children staring into the sky. It was beautiful.

Thanks to everyone who has been writing me! Tomorrow is my last day in civilization for a week, so write me!

Here is a fun parting shot; a picture of all the interns. From the left: Erica, Aneesha, Erendira, Johanna, Clea, Me, and Simone.

I miss you all! Have a great day! Lots of love!

Day 11: Clean Clothes and Echoes... And Yet Another Picture of Me in Front of a Bell Tower

8:30 pm

Happy July, everyone!

Today was kind of a day off-- this morning I woke up a little later than usual and washed all my clothes by hand and hung them up on the line! I know that probably doesn't sound very exciting, but it was at least out of the ordinary and actually kind of fun. Again, something straight out of Hemingway. Do you like my "apron?" hehe (It's just a towel clothespinned around my waist.)


I know you guys are probably getting tired of seeing pictures of me in front of bell towers, but I like them because they are just so unusual and so typical of this area of Mexico. This picture is from this afternoon, when we went to visit "Bellas Artes," an art school in San Miguel de Allende. The art school itself was closed because of the weekend, but it was still a beautiful building and so we walked around for a while. There was one entire room-- a huge stone room-- that was painted in geometric designs and patterns. The room was so big and empty besides the pictures that it echoed whenever we spoke or moved.

This afternoon was more down time. I found this book called Sabine's Notebook in our apartment, and I read it today. (Have you ever heard of Griffin and Sabine?) It was one of those grown-up pop-up books, with postcards and letters on the inside that had to actually be opened and taken out to be read... Do you know what I mean? I think there is a famous children's book that is like that. I really enjoyed the quirkiness of that book-- I think it may be one of my new favorites. Here is a really cute and really famous picture from it's prequel, Griffin and Sabine. Abbie, I think you especially will enjoy this picture.

After I read that book, I was inspired to begin work on my own scrapbook of my month in San Miguel de Allende. It´s coming along great!

I saw my four little friends again today; they stood at the gate to my apartment complex yelling, "YESAAAAAA!!!" at the tops of their little lungs, so I went outside to talk to them for a little while. There was a birthday party for one of the babies on the street today, so they came by to tell me that they couldn't play today. They are so adorable!

By the way, the movie Nicotina was really, really weird. I kind of liked it, just because I like weird movies, but it's definitely not for the faint of heart or stomach. We forgot to get a copy with subtitles, though, so we all were helping each other understand and we were all learning Spanish as we watched. Diego Luna was, of course, adorable, though he was a little bit creepy and scary in this particular movie... Tonight we are all getting together to have a "guacamole night" over at the apartment. It should be fun.

God bless you, everyone! Take a look at this picture...

With love from "Esprite Sin Hielo!" jejeje