Birthdays

Birthdays have always fascinated me.

Some people love them. Some people hate them. Some people go all out. Some people do everything they can to avoid drawing any extra attention to themselves. Clearly these are the ends of the spectrum. Surely there are people in the middle and everywhere in between. 

Myself- I'm clearly more toward the loving attention side of the spectrum. But I also don't really like making the day into some sort of big deal. Birthdays for me are- to use a horrible and problematic analogy- a bit like christmas. I'm not really into celebrating all the christian traditions and all that. But I am into having a time that is set aside for being together as a family, with friends, and sharing gifts with each other. Plus I looooove egg nog. Seriously, why don't they make that stuff year round? 

Anyhow, birthdays, for me, are this consistent, concrete reminder to give thanks for the most basic and profound gift of all, reflect on all that has happened in the year past, and to take time to dream about the year to come. I apologize if I am starting to sound like Dr. Phil. But I am, as you all know, prone to cheesiness (not to mention distractibility...hey...look- shiny). Birthdays. 

One of the most basic aspects of birthdays is the significance and meaning we attach to certain numbers. The first birthday is a big deal; the first full year of life with all of the amazing developments that come with is something to celebrate (just hopefully not with the level of extravagance and disgusting materialism that can turn something precious into something vomitous- sorry...distractable and judgemental). And each of the first few years are important as they mark major milestones in the healthy development of a person. I think that after 10, most kids stop being excited about birthdays in the same way they stop getting excited about Santa Claus.

At 13- we become teenagers- that's like a totally big deal and stuff.  Now, we are like totally mature and cool and stuff. Then when you turn 16, it's like you totally need to make sure that you've kissed someone (at least that's what I remember- probably because I remember hearing that and making a concerted effort not to be the lame-o who still hadn't kissed a girl at age 16). Then when you turn 18, that's a big one right? At 18 we are bestowed with the paradoxical power to enroll in the military, legally buy pornography, smoke cigarettes, and, oh yeah, vote (not necessarily in that order).  Of course 21 is the next big one. What a great milestone right? Now you can legally get hammered. I think that's pretty much it with 21. After 21, the milestones become a bit more spread out.

There's no real ceremony or ritual assigned to 25, but I think it has some significance for most people even if only as a mile-marker- at this point you are half-way through your awkward twenties and, realistically, you have lived more than 1/4 of your life. Othern that, not much to say about 25. But now we get to 30. 30 is a big one for most. 30 means all kinds of things. 30 means if you haven't gotten your shit together by now, you might just never. 30 means you should have an established career; a lasting relationship (if not marriage- right Grandma?); if the former is working out well, some little ones; for sure you should own a home, condo, something that you can call your own. What else? I think that's about it. Basically- like I said- you should have your poo in a nice neat organized pile and now just exactly how you plan to use said poo.

After thirty, meaning is measured by units of ten. 40 is the next important number. Followed clearly  by 50, 60, 70, and 80. Once you get to 80, meaning once again is measured year by year.

If you make it to 90 and you aren't either drooling on yourself continually, consistently forgetting who you are and who the hell all these people are who keep making you eat and wash and all that, as well as no longer possessing the ability to control your poops (i'm sorry- but isn't poop just such a great word?). And for the extreme few, there's 100- the centenarians (sounds like some sort of greek name for a mythological creature- and sort of rightly so).

I turned 28 on Wednesday. I like 28. I'm not totally into the numerology thing, but 28 just seems so different than 27 for me. 27 feels significantly younger; even though it's numerically closer to thirty- it feels experientially closer to 25. And I think everyone can agree that 25 is young. Ok, now I'm starting to project. Well, I think I'm starting the reflection portion of my rant. Feel free to stop reading, it could get messy (not to mention very scattered, with more parenthetical references than normal, and, oh yeah, cheesy). 27 is like a red jeep-it's still invested in being cool, doesn't care that it could have better gas mileage because it looks good, and, did I mention, it looks really cool? 28 is like a volkswagen golf- it likes knowing that it's stylish but doesn't care what other people think, it's proud of the fact that it gets good gas mileage, and it's writing to the manufacturers about how it can continue to get better gas mileage. So maybe I'm more into the numerology thing that I thought.

It occurred to me this week that is was 10 years ago to the day that I graduated from Orofino High School this May 28th. Whether or not this numerical coincidence has anything to do with where I'm at now is unknowable, but I do feel a parallel sense of commencement and graduation. In the past year, I finally held a job for a full year (In 2005- I had 6 different jobs in one year). I got myself organized enough to apply to 9 different PhD psychology programs (this coming from the guy who still forgets to bring enough underwear on most trips). I lived with my grandparents for 5 months and actually was able to help grandma start to eat somewhat more healthily (I still think it was your bread recipe mom). I was accepted into a PhD program in Tennessee (can't wait to start wearing nothing but bright orange clothes). And I was able to save enough money to be sitting where I am, writing in my blog in Mexico. Not bad for one year.

As for the year to come- I think my vision is pretty simple and clear. When May rolls around next year I'd like to be able to say a few things about my year. Here' s my rough list

1. Create a healthy balance between class and life (not that the two are mutually exclusive). This looks like having a solid routine with sleep, exercise, eating, studying, and being social (and that order actually is probably perfectly indicative of which things have to happen in order for me to be a focused student). Overall- I want to finish the first year feeling like I created a sustainable pace and a routine that keeps me healthy.

2. I want to live for a full year in my own place and create a space that I feel at home in (having lots of fun envisioning the various assortment of thrift store dishes and things to fill that space with).

3. I want to have an operational working idea for my master's thesis (I'm getting better at this goal stuff).

4. I want to find some team(s) to play on (could be ultimate, basketball, tennis, or all of the above).

5. I want to have had several adventures in the smoky mountains (started vague- finished somewhat vague).

Not a bad list for just making it up. But again, this is one of my reasons for appreciating birthdays- they always call me to take the time craft a vision for the next year. And when it all comes down to it- what's the old line- your life is about a great as you make it. Again, birthdays are more or less three things for me: a chance simply give thanks for life period; reflect on all that happened in the last year; and to take the time to dare to craft a vision for the year ahead.

I am so thankful for life. More so than anything else this year, my time with you grandma, watching you more or less at the end of your life, I was reminded everyday just how precious each day truly is. Thank you for that gift Grandma. Grandpa- I love your vehement insistence on dispelling the myth of trying to live everyday like it's your last. I love your simple take on that sort of immature approach to trying to live life fully. Live everyday like it's your first. 

This past year taught me a lot of other great things too. Here's a few: following through on commitments is pretty much always better than not (I said I would work at Three Rivers for a year and I did); it's important to pay attention to the window's of opportunity (I got to live with my dear, old grandparents for 5 months- time that won't come again); family is immeasurably important (lots of examples for this one- but Phil and Ali- your willingess to ask me to come and help with Gabi is what I'm thinking most about); and even though dreams aren't always perfectly clear, pursue them (I spent a lot of time waiting, wondering if school was right for me- the irony has been that in the pursuit of it- things have become clearer). That's more or less it.

Sorry that this turned into a page from Dr. Phil's journal- but I warned you all.

I am so excited about this next year.

But my new spiritual practice has been to say a small prayer of thanks at the beginning and end of everyday.

After all, all of this is a gift.

Thanks be to our Mother

So clearly this entry turned into Dr. Phil Hallmark stuff- but I warned you. I hope

Transitions

I got lots of them.

Anyone need any extra?

This past week it´s all finally sinking in that I am leaving Mexico in a week- after being here just enough time to start to feel some sort of a rhythm. I am leaving for Atlanta to live for two months before flying back to Idaho to fly back to Tennessee to start school in the fall. Poop- that sentence was a series of transitions.

Of course I have created all of this myself- which is the hilarious and somewhat perplexing part of it all. These are the questions I have been chewing on (when I am not still chewing on the really chewy cheese down here)-

1. Why would I choose this?

2. How did all of this come together?

3. How come I´m still chewing on the piece of cheese that was on my tostada from saturday?

It´s sad-but these are things I think about. I know.


And I think I have one answer (at least to the first two questions, the will forever remain a mystery) for these questions- because I know I´m getting ready to be settled in one place doing one thing for 4 years. Maybe that´s oversimplifying. Maybe I really just am a poor planner and wait to the last second to do things and then try to cram in as much as possible so as to not feel like a total moron for having procrastinated completely. Ok, maybe there are more layers to my answer. But I think it´s mostly true.

You know when dogs get ready to sleep for the night? They do that seemingly pointless, circular dance around one small space before plopping down to sleep. That´s me right now. All this traveling around is the equivalent of a dog´s sleep ritual. Alright, I realize this analogy is probelmatic on a lot of levels. But I am so a dog person- and the image is sweet. Don´t poop in my proverbial water dish.

Anyhow- it´s Monday the 25th of May here- and I´m reminded that the next loop of my dog dance is rapidly approaching. I am planning on leaving exactly a week from today. Sunday is the finale for the Mexican Premier League and I want to make sure to watch it with my local futbol amigos down here. Saturday I plan on finally getting out an seeing the ruins of Monte Alban. Friday is my last day of class. Thursday is my birthday (which could functionally mean that Thursday is my last day of class). So it´s down to the days! And honestly, I´m excited.

Transitions are strange, paradoxical things. Having change keeps things fresh- changes in the weather, an upcoming trip, an unexpected guest. But having to much going on at once is confusing, frustrating, and exhausting. I think I have- for these weird and awkward last few years- as a way to distract myself from the fact that I have had no idea what the hell I was doing or who I was.

To return to my somewhat troublesome, but still totally cute dog analogy- I´ve finally committed myself to my sleep spot (I really hope my advisor isn´t somehow reading these) and I´m just doing my necessary little pre-sleep ritual.

Speaking of sleep...

Little Things

It´s the little things.

So I am sitting watching a soccer match in a bar in mexico when I hear Kansas´¨Dust in the Wind¨done Mexican Muzak style. Then, just when I think it can´t get any more hilarious, they start in with a Mexican cover of Toni Braxton´s ¨Unbreak my Heart¨(I wished so badly that you were there for that moment Meems). Seriously- it´s the little things.

It´s a pleasant Thursday night here in Oaxaca. I took today as a mental health day of sorts. Basically I slept through my alarm until 10 am! When I actually realized what had happened- I went to go do my usual morning routine and when I looked in the mirror, I was greeted by a very clearly exhausted and dishelved version of myself. In that moment I decided that I was staying home for the day. I called in sick- only a partial lie.

I told my cute and concerned host parents that I was just feeling exhausted and a little out of sorts and that I would be doing a little extra chilling out for the morning hours. My host mom Estela was super cute and made sure I got some fresh melon and bananas in my system (as well as her usual, very thoughtful, and very weak cup of coffee) before heading back to bed. She REALLY wanted to make me some tea- but I was seriously so ready to just go crawl back under the covers that I was able to resist. Which is somewhat of a feat because she is like the cutest, kindest woman ever. She´s hard to say no to (hence my continued willingness to swallow the brown water she serves in the morning). Anyhow- I went back to bed at 10 am. I couldn´t tell you the last time I did that.

It was sooooooooo nice. I took advantage of my refound attachment to my computer (thanks meems for sending my charger-so nice to have it) and my collection of music. I set the computer up on the bed and tuned in to one of my favorite albums (thanks Gabe for this one)- Greg Brown´s A Live One. Such a great album. For those of you who don´t know Greg Brown- get to know him. A couple of my all-time faves of his are on this one- Billy from the Hills, Spring Wind, Laughing River, and the 18 minute version of Canned Goods (an experience to say the least). Anyhow, I just laid down and listened to this recorded live show- and just listened. I realized that usually when I am listening to music- I am doing something else. Just sitting and listening to just the music- especially with all of the wonderful wordplay and great interjecting stories Greg creates- it was a nice reminder how powerful the medium of music is. Not to mention how sweet it is to have portable tunes.

After an hour or so of musical meditation- I got up, showered, and shaved the disgusting facial hair that had started to take over my face. I don´t know what it´s like for other dudes (or dudettes for that matter), but when it´s warm, having facial hair- no matter how thick or disgustingly thin it may be (as obviously in my case)- it´s like really uncomfortable and gets extra greasy with the warmth. Ok that was gross. Sorry. Anhow- I sent my furry guest packing.
Shaving is actually quite enjoyabe. It´s just a little bit like stretching for me- I just always try to get away with the absolute minimum. Enough of that.

So now it´s noonish- and I´m feeling very refreshed and finally ready to make an entry into the living world. I´m craving a cup of real coffee and I make for my favorite place- Cafe Brujula with my writing implements, computer (they have wi-fi), and water. The owner- I discovered this last week- is from Texas. He´s so hilarious to listen to when he speaks Spanish because he totally has the Texan drawl slathered all over the top of everything. Not that I should be making fun of him. Today while I was sitting sipping my favorite vice, a construction worker poked his head in what I think he thought was the entrance (not-just an open, ground-level window-balcony thing) and started talking to me (I think he thought I was the owner- white, large, speaks poopy spanish). I had been feeling better about my level of comprehension right up until the moment this large dude stuck his head through the window and apparently started consulting me on matters concerning construction. Yeah, I didn´t understand a damned thing.

I told the dude- ¨momento¨. And now, looking back, I´m sure it didn´t help that I had slept in way past my normal waking hour, had been listening to english music for much of the morning, and still had not yet finished my first cup of coffee. But regardless, I at least had the awareness to get up and get one of the local kids who work the counter and point to the window and say- ¨no se¨. Nice job Ike. One of the girls at the counter who I have this sort of unspoken, I´m a regular kinda thing with, thanked me and sort of giggled after clearing things up with the guy. Totally hilarious. But it´s the little things right?

So back into my slow approaching state of wakefulness I go. I open up my laptop and get all geared up to do some business that I have been putting off for a while. I finish my first cup of coffee and am starting to feel somewhat human. And then, of course, the internet isn´t working. Again with the little things. So after that first reaction of damn it why can´t shit just work when I want it to work passed, I laughed, and pulled out my pen and paper. And per my simple start to my morning- just sitting and listening to music- I just sat and wrote. Lovely. I love this cafe not just for their having the only coffee I have found so far that doesn´t taste burnt (I really did become a coffee snob living in Seattle), but also for the fact that a la my previously mentioned experience with mexican muzak at other locales, this place actually plays what I consider REAL music. That is- jazz, blues, and soul- and like the good stuff from both of those genres. Love it.
Just me, my pen, and Dave Brubek. Totally sweet.

After two more cups and several pages of productivity, I was ready to shift. I also was ready for something substantial in the belly. Still feeling slightly off- due to the various factors listed- I opted for this very healthy place that does these awesome juices and various vegetarian dishes. It´s always nice to eat something simple, substantial, and healthy when feeling a little out of it. For me, I imagine it´s like taking my inner gastro workings to the spa for a treat. Ok that was gross too. So I went there.

I also admit that I went there because I knew that there´s better, more reliable wi-fi access, and that I could get those few items crossed off my list that have been nagging me. It was perfect. I was the only person in the whole place (lunch rush hadn´t happened yet), and I got my spot by the window, and I got this delicious juice (pineapple, apple, ginger- wow) to go with my veggie enchiladas (just the right size, sense of substance, and nourishment). Plus the damned internet worked perf. Sweet. I hung here for about two hours, figuring out how to register for classes in Tennessee from a restaurant in Mexico (the internet- a series of interconnected tubes i´m told- is truly amazing). I crossed all of the truly important things off of the to do list- and savored that sense of satisfaction that comes from completing something. Little things.

This was just in time- because as I started back to the host house here- I saw the rain clouds off in the not too far distance. Now, I say just in time not because I was thinking that I needed to get back to the house to make sure I and my computer don´t get soaked (although probably I was a little- and probably I should have more). No, I was thinking- I am totally going for a run in the rain. Which I did.

I haven´t been able to get into much of a running rhythm here. It´s been like once or twice a week that I´ve managed to get out and on the road. Which- all in all- hasn´t been so bad. It makes each run a little more of a heightened experience. That said- I think part of it for me has been that between the heat, my school schedule, and general level of energy- there are these small windows that open through which I have the opportunity to crawl and start running like the crazy, blonde haired viking I am. I through on my clothes and headed out the door for my usual loop up this hill that looks over the city of Oaxaca and the valley it sits in. The mountains here are quite different from the dessicated, barren landscape of the coastal mountains. Here they are lush, and especially with May being the month of rain here, they are extra verdant at the moment. I pumped hard up the hill and got a great view of the valley, the mountains, and the approaching storm. I love storms.

Funny enough- I got like three drops of rain the whole time. I was hoping for a nice, soft, steady misting of a rain. I love running in those conditions. Everything smells amazing, I don´t get so damned hot, and...well, I really love not getting so damned hot. The last time I got back from a run, my host dad Daniel, seriously thought that I had fallen into some sort of large body of water on my way back from my route. This was almost as funny as all of the whistles of affection that I seem to get from the men down here. I guess my hair is getting long and I run pretty fast- they might think I´m some amazon Norwegian woman. Anyhow- even in the absence of my much desired rain storm- the run was fabulous.

I got back to the house and stretched and listened to music. Took a nice cold shower. Checked in with Estela about the state of my health. As you can imagine, she was somewhat concerned about my going for a run- especially with the likelihood of rain. But after showing up mostly dry and looking reenergized- I think she felt OK about things. Our interactions are always quite brief and usually involve me saying ¨que¨? She is in her early 60´s and spends most of her time around the house. She and Daniel have four kids- three daughters and a son. And they have, I want to say 6 grandkids as well. So the grandkids come over with some frequency and keep things somewhat lively, but theres a lot of cleaning, watching tv (hilarious novellas that I love to tease her about with short reenactments in front of the tv), and cooking. In a few moment of brilliance, I have been able to converse with her about larger order things- studying psychology, philosophy about family, religion. But mostly I´m out and about- and in the mornings- when we sit and have breakfast together- I´m in my morning mode. All in all, it´s just so nice to be in a house, in a family space, with my own room. I wish my Spanish skills were of a level that would allow for some deeper conversation (not to mention simple, logistical communication- sorry I took a huge dump and couldn´t get it to flush because I forgot that you all don´t actually put toilet paper in the toilet down here- sorry, but I had to). But even that element is fun- Daniel and I have some hilarious back and forth with miming and charades. They are simple, good, caring people.

Well, the rains finally came. I can hear the pitter patter on the tin roof right outside the internet cafe here. After such a lovely, relaxing day- I think I´m going to go home and enjoy completing a fully relaxing day with a movie. My host sister (Daniel and Estela´s youngest) Aracelli, is 27 and lives at home and has quite a decent movie selection. I did notice that she has all three Pirates of the Carribean movies- danger. I like watching with the subtitles- I feel like I´m getting to watch a movie and I´m learning. How sweet is that?

I can´t believe it´s May 21st already- less than two weeks left down here.

Truth be told- I feel like I´m doing all of the things I wanted to- get a start on learning spanish, eat great food, relax, and just have total space to myself. That said, with each passing day, I savor my time here and also get a little more excited about being back closer to family and friends.

Love to you all

Backwards Day

You know those days you have every once in a while where everything seems to line up just right? Lights turn green. The coffee turns out just right. And there just seems to be a sort of prescient pace and perfect rhythm to the day. Well, today wasn´t one of those days.

It´s not that I have anything to complain about. My life right now (and my day today-which I´m getting to) is so perfectly what I´ve needed (and what I knew I would want after the months of the graduate school gauntlet). It´s just that today was really like this funny sort of backwards version of the aforementioned sychronicity that we´ve all experienced at times.

So I got up this morning at the lovely late hour of 10 am. I took a leisurely shower, had a nice breakfast with my host family, and grabbed my stuff to head out for the day. I knew from my experience last weekend that my favorite coffee shop would be closed, so I headed for the next best thing down in the Zocalo (public square). The first cup felt more or less like when your mom just whispers something sweet in your ear in the hopes of very kindly and gently waking you up. I didn´t budge. The second cup (and I think- I know- I drink so fast that probably what happened-happens is that the caffeine didn´t have enough time to get to the brandt brain) was more like when your mom is trying to get off to work, is making sure your sisters have their lunch and their coats, is telling your dad not to forget dinner is at the johnson´s, and after doing all of these things realizes that your lazy butt still isn´t out of bed and screams your complete, lawful name at a decibel level only achievable by maddened mothers the world over. The second cup woke me up.

So now I´m ready for the day. But I realize, after finally waking up, that my original intent for today was to find a good bar and watch the playoff soccer that´s happening right now in Mexico. I look at the time- it´s noon. Perfect. The games start at noon. I head for the nearest big screen.

My usual place of preference is typically really hot and stuffy during the day time hours- so I found a spot at an open air place, with my own table, perfectly placed in front of the largest tv in the bar. Perfect. The waiter comes over and I ask for a corona and he brings back a beer and the delicious, complimentary peanuts they have at bars here complete with salt, roasted chiles, and roasted garlic- sweet. The game starts just as I take my first sip.

So the game gets going and it´s good from the first touch of the ball. Indios and Toluca. Indios beat them several days ago 1 nil, so Toluca needs to win and win by more than one to advance. The first ten minutes of the game are a great back and forth- both teams sharing possession equally as well as subsequent shots on goal. I´m relieved because it seems like half the time I get pysched up for going out and watching a sporting event- it sucks balls. I´m even to the point with my Spanish where I can swear at the game with the locals, and understand some of the armchair quaterbacking going on at the tables around me. But to the backwardness of the day.

So after 20 minutes I´m feeling a strange blend of excitement and grogginess. It´s like my brain has some sort of slime covering it- and it seems to moving into my limbs. Oh yeah, that´s right-my beer is gone. That´s right- I started drinking at noon. I didn´t even notice that the first one was gone until the previously projected proverbial voice of a mother came to me and said-´son, be careful´. Well, those of you who know me know that I have ¨slow down´tatooed on my body. You also know that this may well end up being my epitaph (though I don´t think I´ll end up going the burial route)- ¨never did slow down- just got stopped¨. Although, and this is for you Dad, I may be open to ¨you couldn´t stop him, you could only hope to contain him¨. Anyhow- after countless experiences in my short life in which I have chosen to ignore that motherly voice- I figured I would listen to the other reminder I have tattooed on my body- ¨listen¨.


I drank some water. Felt a bit better. And the game got great. I was totally into it-cheering with every missed shot, yelling at every stupid call, and doing as well to fit in as any six foot tall, baby-level-spanish speaking guero can in a mexican bar. I´m sure it was extra entertainment for the old mexican men behind me to hear me swearing in spanish and pumping my fists in the air. Glad to bring something to this place amigos- not just take. Anyhow, where was I? Oh yeah, backwards.

So now it´s halftime. I brought all of my learning materials (as I always do- whether or not I actually use them) from school- as I intended to get as much of my homework down during the halftime as I could. Feeling quite proud of myself for being so motivated I sort of puffed up a bit in my chair when the waiter sort of took me by surprise. With my still mostly groggy head stuck in my own private cloud of pride, I looked up and just smiled at the waiter out of reaction. I realized immediately after he left that he had just asked me if I wanted another beer. Listen. Listen. Listen.

Well, if I´m totally honest with myself- what I heard was- ¨c´mon dude. don´t get all i-shouldn´t-because it´s-noon-on-a-sunday. i mean, it´s noon on a sunday AND you are in mexico at a bar watching soccer. you are supposed to be doing this.¨I thought, ¨you know, that´s right- i am in mexico- and i´m even doing my homework during the halftime. how many people can say that they would have the motivation to do that?¨You get the picture. I did my homework over a beer. And so to the backwards business.

When the second half started it was 1pm, I was mostly finished with my homework, and I was two beers deep. Now I was really starting to feel like taking a nap. It was like my body and mind had gotten into a very confusing and ultimately tiring argument. My mind was like- dude, you just gave me caffeine and we did some homework- i´m ready to go, give me something, throw me something, i´m ready to play. My body was all- dude, seriously, just have one more handful of peanuts and let´s go home so i can lay down- please? My mind was like- don´t listen to body, he´s always pissing and moaning about needing more rest- you can rest when you´re dead. My body was all- don´t listen to mind, he doesn´t know how to relax- have you ever noticed how his voice is uncannily like Woody Allen´s- you don´t want to end up looking like him do you? I was like- good point body. So I had another handful of peanuts.

But then the game got good. Back and forth. Forth and back. Though the first half was well balanced, Toluca just started to dominate from the get go. The put shot after shot on goal. Corner kick after corner kick. And just as I was about to cheer for what I thought was to be a sure goal- the waiter popped up behind me. I already forget who missed the header, but Í´ll never forget the next hilarious moment shared by the waiter and I. I screamed and pumped my fist as what´s his name attempted to put the ball in the upper right corner. And as it just missed I turned in anguish and nodded at the waiter like- can you believe that? I turned to look at the replay, and when I turned back around, there was another fresh beer waiting for me.

I couldn´t decide if the waiter was evil( knew the dilemma of my status as a person of passion, futbol fan, and spanish speaking beginner- and therefore knew there was no real way to ask for an opened beer to be put away) or was just being attentive (taking my minimal spanish and gesticulative nature to mean- yes sir, i think i´ll have another). The jury is still out. However, one thing remained in ice-cold, delicious certainty- I had a third beer in front of me at 130pm in the early afternoon. So to the backward trend.

Luckily for me- the game continued at a furious and entertaining pace- a pace that preoccupied my mind enough to keep my body quiet until match´s end. I sipped said third beer and simply got wrapped up what had now become even more of a- forgive the usage- intoxcating atmosphere (you can roll your eyes Jens-if you actually read this). Toluca kept hammering shot after shot at Indios keeper. Shot after shot bouncing off the posts. I seriously haven´t seen a game with so many near misses since the last time the U.S. played someone. Very entertaining.

Then, all of a sudden, the game was done. The programming switched almost instantly to some horrible local comedy show that I can tell would annoy me even if I understood every word and correct conjugation. It´s like what I imagine the progammatic progeny of Sesame Street and Mad TV would look like- to paint a picture for you all back home. Anyhow, at this point, my previously caffeinated and concurrently sedated mind gave up control completely to my body. My mind said something I can´t write here- even if it was in Spanish. My body was like- ¨dude, that was kinda backwards- start drinking at noon right after trying to start the day.¨And though I did walk home and promptly lay down for a nap a mere four hours after having slept in until 10 am- it was fun.

So to continue on the backwards theme- I am now sitting, obviously, at the internet cafe, after enjoying a nice cup of coffee and a piece of pie at 5pm. It´s now 8:15pm and I have clearly had enough caffeine to have been typing non-stop for exactly 1 hour and 34 minutes by the timer on the computer. So you may at this point be asking yourself- what in the hell is Ike doing in Mexico anyway? Well, I´ll have you know that I spent from 4-6pm working and finishing my homework (and eating my pie-naturally). And yes, i have also been enjoying some other fun local activities besides just drinking beer and yelling at televisions (something I realize I can do and participate in back home). In fact, on Friday night I went to an photography exposition with some people from my school and ended up talking with all sorts of interesting people and ultimately ended up at this crazy, hilarious bar (kind of like if Bob´s Java Jive had a bar child with The Great Nabob- for those of you who know those places) dancing and talking until 2 in the morning. So there.

But I think what I am realizing more and more on this trip (besides that I love mexican food and there are NO public toilets anywhere down here)- is that I planned this trip (in the spirit in which I imagine all great trips are) somewhat unawares of just how beneficial it would be to have a chunk of time with which to do whatever the hell I want. It´s taken me these first two weeks to realize that. And I think per my habitual pattern of moving too fast- I didn´t fully comprehend how good for me Oaxaca would be. Outside of school- which is of my own choosing and is relatively minimal work- I have no obligations here. The pace of life here is slow- people walk slow, eat slow, and savor life. I know that I haven´t changed a bit. I will always be learning the lesson of how to continue to more slowly approach things. But like a good teacher- this place has provided the space for me in which to experience that I can indeed chill out, drink three beers in the early afternoon, and make time to simply enjoy having no obligations.

I know that all of this will have an extra layer of importance after my second week of classes this fall.


I hope that those of you who made it through this blog congratulate yourselves by drinking a beer- if you´re into that sort of thing.

Regular or Irregular

Verbs.
Grammar.
Syntax.
Rules.
Vocab.

For those of you who have taken the time to try to learn a different language, you know the unique blend of frustration, humliation, achievement, and ultimately humility that come from the process. Today´s lesson was on past tense conjugation with regular and irregular verbs. I felt like I was 6 years old- back in Mrs. Wilson´s class trying to understand all of these rules that just seem so random, mostly confusing, and not entirely helpful. My question´s typically sound like- why is that the rule? what is that rule called? is that verb regular? I´m lucky to have the teacher I have- she´s very patient, thinks my stupid attempts to make jokes in spanish are funny, and is quite good at explaining things...slowly and in spanish.

I decided yesterday that I would stop for the week with my cooking class. It was wonderful to have the experience of seeing local food cooked in real time, but due to the timing (4-6 everyday) it was a bit too much for me at the end of an already full day. My maximum attention span (this is assuming a good night´s sleep and sufficiently strong coffe prior to arrival in said learning environment) is somewhere´s around an hour. But toward the late afternoon, I start to turn into that character Mike Meyer´s used to play on SNL who was tethered to the monkey bars with a rubber leash. Really I look really confused, tired, and mostly I just want to lie down somwhere quiet. So I am taking a break this week. Will see about next week- they are taking a trip to the market to buy things- but I think I can do that on my own.

I went to a baseball game last night with my host dad Daniel. What a hoot. It was somewhat reminicent of the time Joel and I went to a game in Cuba (save I didn´t attempt to smoke a nine inch cigar in 10 minutes this time- a little older and wiser- I think) in the sense that the crowd was small but passionate, the game was closely contested (the players are closer to the love of the game because their salaries are closer to reality), and the atmosphere was perfectly latin. The muchachos behind Daniel and I started in right away. The beer drinking appeared to have started some time before the game, but it definitely continued through the duration of the game. They hurled insults with passion, flair, and in this totally great, we-aren´t- serious-we-are-just-having-fun-and-are-quite-drunk kind of way. I learned some great swear words and enjoyed expanding my dirty vocabulary with Daniel present. He and I shared a lot of great laughs during the game.

Funny enough- I had a beer, a hot dog, and a hamburger at the game. So in some obvious ways- there´s some real cultural overlap. However, the hamburgers down here (they´re called hamburguesas) are made with a Mexican touch- and I dare say that they are better. For a dollar and a half- you get a lean, very thin patty of beef with a slice of cheese melted inside a slice of ham, topped with chiles, pineapple, lettuce, mayo, mustard, and ketchup. For some of you- that might sound totally disgusting- but I´m telling you, they´re way better than I thought they´d be. Anyhow, Daniel and I drank beer and enjoyed sharing some funny conversations about baseball specific vocabulary. Entrada is inning in Spanish. I can´t remember the word for home base- but I remember it was cool. The game was three hours long, and though initially I was nervous about hanging for that long (I don´t really care for baseball in English) at a baseball game with my rapidly speaking host dad, it was a great experience.

So the day to day rhythm downhere hasn´t changed a whole lot. Though as my Spanish has finally arrived in a place in which I can have a small conversation sprinkled heavily with gestures, I have been able to make some local connections. The barista at the little cafe I get my morning cup of joe from, Ruben, invited me out with him his compadres over the weekend. My teacher, Marisol, is a very hip gal with a down-to-earth Danish boyfriend who speaks amazing Spanish who I get along with great, and we are planning to get together. This is aside from that there are some totally amazing places to just sit and sip a beer in total peace here with views of the mountains, a very pleasant breeze, and all of the serenity necessary for practicing conjugation in whatever tense you may be practicing. This a great place to be- and one I can already envision coming back to.

Speaking of which, I talked with a woman here at the Institute where I am studying who did her master´s thesis in conjunction with the school here- so who knows? I know that I can get excited about pretty much anything in the moment- but it´s nice to know that the opportunity could be here if I wanted to. Plus, if I really do want to acquire any sort of proficiency, I´m gonna need more immersion. This is all without telling you that I ate the legendary chapulines (grasshoppers) here in Oaxaca which are a local tradition accompanied by a legend that says if you eat them you are bound to come back. I don´t know about legends and spells and such, but the grasshoppers were alarmingly good (especially with guacamole). So who knows?

I think I´m finding a better balance this week of learning as much as I can while simply enjoying being here as well. I´ve found another great coffee shop that plays real jazz and the coffee is real good. That´s become my study place in the afternoons- replacing my time at the cooking class. I can take my time, relax, and re-examine the things I may have missed from the days lessons. Then in the evenings I get my usual array of street food- so good and sooooo cheap- and sit somewhere outside. I know I´ve said it before, but you can walk everywhere in downtown here in like 10-15 minutes- it´s so great. I love that. Makes things simple.

Well- I´m off to meet a friend for a beer on an open balcony and stumble my way through the process of conjugating in both present and past tenses. I hope you all are enjoying whatever it is that you are up to and know that I love you all very much.


E-zac (that´s what my name sounds like in Spanish)

Hump Day

It´s wednesday.

Today marked the end of the middle of the first week, and clearly I am so doing fine on my own that I am spending the next hour here at the little internet cafe next to one of the many impressive cathedrals here in the city. Quite the juxtapositions here.

Anyhow I do feel like I am creating and there is emerging some sort of a rhythm here. It helps that you can walk anywhere in 15 minutes in this city.It´s 10 minutes of brisk walking from my host family´s place to the center of town. And it´s super close to the school- 5 minutes of leisurely walking.

My routine so far has consisted of breakfast in the morning with Estela (the school sets everything up with the family- but it´s up to you if you want to eat meals with them- I chose breakfast). This morning´s menu was cereal and bananas with jello (slightly strange-but i have had some great eggs and tortillas the past few days). We sit and chat a tiny bit (my brain really doesn´t start working as you all know until after the caffeine has hit my blood stream- and that´s in english). Breakfast is at 8:15 and school starts at 9 am. This gives me just enough time to eat, chat, and walk to the local coffee shop before class.

The local coffee shop is run by this very cheerful dude named Ruben. He gets a kick out of my minimal Spanish and I get a kick out of talking soccer with him. We watched the Barcelona v. Chelsea match today in the afternoon (today was a two cup kinda day). Anyhow, after grabbing the closest thing to strong coffee that I have found so far, I head off to class.

Class starts at 9 and goes til noon. We have two short ten-minute breaks in which to socialize with the few other folks that are here right now (this swine flu frenzy has really affected attendance at the school-which sucks for them but is sweet for our teacher-student ratio). So far I have met a handsome and kind family from Zimbabwe, a crusty adventurer from Tucson named Todd, and some random other U.S. folk. There´s also a group of Linfield students down here taking an archaeology class through the Institute. I told the professor about the Linfield-PLU connection- small world.

So far class has been real basic. Understanding the basic formalities of salutations, basic interactions (asking people where they are from etc.), and basic grammar (el Agua- not la Agua- tricky). I love learning all of the vocab. My favorite word right now is pelicula- that´s the word for movie. I don´t know why I love it so much. But just say it out loud once- it just sounds so weird, interesting, and funny all at the same time. Word nerd. Today we started really getting into the differences in the verbs ser and estar. And I´ve already given the feedback to my very open (not that she really has a choice) teacher- Marisol- that I really just need to do a lot of conjugation. That´s another funny word. Word nerd.

After the first three hours of practice, mi maestra assigns homework for the next day. Today it was writing a brief paragraph about how i´m doing here, what i think of this place, and what i think of my host family- all to practice using ser and estar. Then, after our second ten minute break, we start in with conversation hour. This means that we are supposed to talk for an hour about whatever the hell we want. So far this has mostly consisted of me finding a good question and intently listening to Marisol talk. It´s way easier to listen than to talk...in Spanish that is. But I am doing OK I think with just making my best effort to blunder my way through all of thoughts I want to express. My problem is that I want to express myself in the exact same way in Spanish that I do in English and boy is it work to stick with trying to actually see a full thought expressed fully in Spanish right now. Imagine lots of random nouns accompanied by an even more melodramatic and involved series of gesticulations from me. And then imagine Marisol laughing her ass off pretty much for the entire 15 mintues of the hour that I actually say anything. I don´t know how good I am at being a focused and structured student- but one thing is for sure- we have a good time.

After 1pm I have an hour break. I´ve been walking home and picking up a couple of tostadas from this great local vendor (fresh avocado, black beans, chiles, and ham) and eating them at her little hut before laying down at the house for a siesta. My next obligation is at 2pm with my Intercambio (exchange with a local oaxacan) whose name is Noe (the Spanish version of Noah). He wasn´t there today so I went back to the coffee shop as mentioned, and got to catch the second half of the Chelsea-Barcelona match. Totally sweet- Barcelona came through in extra time to tie it up for anyone who cares.

Then after our intercambio (we do half hour of spanish and half and hour of english)- I have anouther hour break before having to be back at the school for my cooking seminar. I like to use this time to get my homework done. The atmosphere at the school is very conducive to hanging out- it´s a gorgeous old Hacienda with tons of green space and terraces- so a good place to focus. Then the cooking with Berta begins at 4 and ends a little before 6pm.

Cooking has been fun and a good way to have dinner built into my schedule. Yesterday we made Chilaquiles which was quite similar to the Entomatadas we made on day one- save we made a Chile Verde sauce and we ripped tortillas into chips to fry up. Oh we also used Epozote instead of parsley (I have never heard of this herb- not that that should surprise anyone). I had seconds.

Then at 6, with belly full and brain saturated with spanish (seriously, I found an verb oozing out of my right ear and it looked like estar), I go for a nice walk around the local park. The park is almost always full with food vendors, local families, people exercising, and lots of lovers. The displays of public affection can only be rivaled by those I´ve seen in Paris. For being a Catholic culture- there is a lot of very open sensuality. There are also lots of cute little kids playing soccer. There´s an internet cafe close by to the park that I have been using and it makes a nice little ending point to the business part of the day.

People really are out in the evenings here because the relative coolness of the evening is so enjoyable. It´s cool to see how much people appreciate public space and simply enjoy being with one another. Old couples walk holding hands. Young couples giggle and steal kisses under the trees. Little ones run around in the fountain. And everyone just seems happy. Ít´s really refreshing.

I´ve been lucky enough to have made a couple of social connections so far and have enjoyed them the last two nights. Monday night, I randomly ran into the friend I made through Easton, Anna-Laura, downtown at an open air cafe. We met in Puerto Escondido and I learned that she was-is an architect here in Oaxaca! So we had a grand ole time just reconnecting, catching up, and both being very glad to have a friend in Oaxaca (not a lot for young, single professional-aged folks here). And then last night I went on a great hike-adventure with this crazy desert dude (he actually took class from Ed Abbey at U of Arizona back in the late 80´s) from Tucson. Todd drove down here and originally was going to snorkel off the Yucatan for 4 months, followed by some time in the jungle that separates Guatemala from Mexico, and then finishing with a language school in Chiapas. But he ended up hiking in the mountains around here and sort of fell in love with the idea of taking school during the week and hiking on the weekends. He´s a character. We hiked about 5 miles and the last 3 were in the dark- winding and twisting through a part of town we didn´t plan on being in. Which was just totally part of the adventure. That´s the other great part about Oaxaca is that everywhere here is safe- there´s like nothing in the way of violent crime here. We had a good time and laughed about more or less intentionally getting lost over some beers.

So anyhow- thought I´d just paint a small picture as to the day to day downhere for you all. May begins the rainy season down here- and we´ve already had some delicious smelling and ear popping thunderstorms. This also means that the temperature here mellows out and stays quite reasonable for the entire month (I´ve been told). I don´t know that there would be a bad time to come to this place- but I think I ended up coming at a very good time.

Off to catch a movie- I hope I can read the subtitles!

Besitos

Un Mosquito

It´s never the bites that get me. I could sit there and let the stupid things bite me for as long as they want. It´s that sound.

The night before the first day of class I spent realizing my passionate hatred for natures most annoying creation- mosquitos. i laid down to an early start on the night and just read my book when the mosquito from two nights ago showed its head. I waited. I waited. And then when it finally landed, I made my move. Got it. Ok, I thought, now I can totally go to sleep in peace.

So there I am- settling in, finding that perfect position, and savoring the last moments of the day when the sound comes. That damned sound. No sound is more annoying to me than that sound. I thought there was only one in my room. But no- there is two. So I wait and play cat and mouse with it for the duration of a half hour before giving up and simply putting a t-shirt over my ears. This actually worked- mostly.

Anyhow- I woke up in a daze and it seems to have continued for most of this the first day of class. I am the only person in my class- class A1. This is because I know zero Spanish. I think I may be the least knowledgeable person to have entered a class here- because they keep looking at me like that. But that could be my emerging Norwegian-Mexican Soccer Mullet with extra grease from all of this humidity and heat. Who knows?

Regardless, my teacher, Marisol is great. She's 30 and has taught at the Instituto for 6 years. She´s energetic, smart, and engaging. We did a lot of vocab and exceptions in regards to articles and such today. We have grammar from 9-12 and then do a speaking hour from 12-1pm. We have a couple of ten minute breaks mixed in (and they are necessary- I felt like my brain was saturated today). We get free coffee at the Institute (and it´s definitely free quality-but no complaints ) which helped today with the grogginess.

Then this afternoon, I had my seminar. My seminar is cooking. From 4-6pm everyday, I learn a new recipe from this beautiful old lady whose name I already have forgotten. We did Entomatadas today. An entomatada is basically a version of a tostada, but the tortilla is covered with a salsa like sauce (tomatoes stewed with chiles, pureed with garlic and onion) poured over the tortilla garnished with thin slices of onion, sprinkled with goat cheese, and topped with parsley. Muy bonita y rico! Fun to listen and watch and eat.

Anyhow- I´m off to finish my homework over a beer at my favorite new place. For those of you who haven´t been to Mexico- start planning a trip here to Oaxaca.

Love to you all

Destino

I like that the Spanish words for ¨destiny¨and ¨destination¨are the same.

So I got into Oaxaca last night at around 7pm- which was remarkable on two levels- one, it was about exactly the time estimate given for arriving here and two, it was one of the more unbelievably winding, twisting, bladder-holding, mind-blowing bus rides I´ve been on. I should have known it was going to be interesting as soon as I saw the driver get in the bus in Puerto Escondido and say a 30 second prayer before starting the engine. I am not catholic but I crossed myself in unison with the driver and said a couple of hail marys for good measure.

The Sierra Madre Del Sur are what we drove through for about 6 of the 7 hour trip. The terrain is rugged- starts out from the coast as dry and barren with nothing but cactus and sickly shrubs for vegetation. Then after about 3 hours of the same scenery- it slowly starts to green. As we drove, you could see thunderheads perched atop the mountains in the distance- and both see and smell the rain in the air. I don´t think it had rained prior to yesterday for quite some time and, at least for me, having come from hot-ass Puerto Escondido, the change in both altitude and the rain made the air temperature feel like a God-send. That was until the golf ball-sized hail started to rain down upon us like some God-sent plague.

Seriously though- the ten or so of us crammed into this little Mercedes Express Bus (Imagine the Eurostyle Vans Bakeries use to transport buns around Seattle filled with seats instead of rolls) were all sleeping with windows open and noses filled with the sweet scent of dry ground being kissed by gentle rain, when Mother nature decided to remind us that she is in control, and especially in the mountains, she can get moody- fast. So we all came to pretty quick and closed our windows. The bus driver started had me roll up the passenger side window manually while he did the same with his. And as soon as we were liquid tight, the bus started to fog up.

This was funny at first. The driver cranked the defrost, but to no avail. He slowed way down (which was a nice change from having to hold the roll bar inside the bus like some stunt double in an action movie) and started wiping his windshield from the inside with a cloth napkin. He even made use of the man behind me to help wipe the full breadth of the windshield. You can imagine me sitting there watching this all, and having a very difficult time not laughing. But then came the realization that the bus driver was going to continue driving the road. And even though he was going significantly slower than before- I was sitting directly behind him and had a pretty good idea of his level of visibility and consequently his ability to safely navigate the paved goat trails we´d been traveling these last 3 hours, and I sort of pooped myself. Just a little. Ok, not really- but it was scary.

The hail just kept coming. The man who had volunteered to be 2nd in command of wiping, kept looking at me and pointing as if to say,¨isn´t this amazing?¨Which it was. But I don´t think he had ever seen a hail storm quite like that nor did he know that I am El Norwego Grande- from the mountains. Pretty funny. It hailed for a good solid 20 minutes. We slowed to a reasonable rate of speed. And then, after 20 minutes, it stopped as abruptly as it started.

The rest of the trip was defined by what seemed like a sense of having gotten off the expected time frame, and the bus driver´s desire to get things back on time (or potentially some unexpressed Jungian death wish for which he´d previously indicated a desire when having prayed prior to departure). Regardless, we literally flew the rest of the way up and down the mountains. Now I´ve travelled in Nepal. I rode buses packed with people inside as well as on the top of buses which were cruising up and down mountain passes unrivaled in steepness, shittiness, and overall potential for massive death. This was more intense.

It may have been that the bus was smaller. It may have been that I was sitting right behind the driver. It may have been that I hadn´t slept well the night before. It may have been that I drank like 5 cups of coffee before departing and I forgot to empty prior to leaving. And while I´m sure all of those elements played a part- I think it was mostly that these roads are unbelievably windy and the drivers drive them unbelievably fast. I wanted to say something at several different points during the ride- but firstly couldn´t think of what to say in Spanish, secondly couldn´t even look at my dictionary for more than about 10 seconds at a time without being tempted to vomit all over our fearless drivers neck, and thirdly, and mostly poignantly, I just couldn´t really find any words whatsoever. One of the few times in my life that I have been completely speechless (and for like several hours- pretty impressive I know).

I just hung on, said a few more silent prayers, and closed my eyes. All things helped. It also helped that I had slept like a pile of balls the night before and, despite my lack of better judgement with regards to diuretics, I had smartly chosen to drink small amounts of water (and so was a bit dehydrated)- so I was able to achieve a sleep-like state. Of course, a few of the more hairpin turns along with the super cheesy music coming from the speaker right above me (of course I got the seat right below the speaker) forced me alert at abrupt and random intervals- but my stupor proved a very effective tool for escaping the death-inviting scene occuring out the front windshield. I sat up straight when the road straightened.

When we finally came out of the mountains and on to the ¨flat¨land- the storm we had been in the middle of, was continuing over the tops of the mountains off to the west of the bus. The scene of deep purple clouds starkly contrasting with the dusty brown mountains as well as the pinks and blues of the sunset was truly magical. Mother Nature´s whims continued in the horizontal form of heat lightning (no claps following the bolts) for quite some time. Then, just as the signs for Oaxaca started to appear, huge vertical bolts made their presence felt with their accompanying thunder claps. This was how I came into the bus depot in Oaxaca.

Perfectly, as we unloaded from the bus, the bus driver handed me some random copy of some random Kerouac book that he had no use for and insisted that I take (I think because it was in English- but it could´ve been that our appearances were quite similar in terms of looking bent, worn, and slightly greasy). At any rate, we unloaded and the rain stopped. Perfect. I asked a few taxis about a place that Easton recommended I stay and they looked at me like my zipper was down and a certain mouse was looking for the local Oaxacan cheese (pardon my disgustingness, but I was silent on a bus that I almost died in for multiple hours yesterday) if you catch my drift. So I walked about the streets as the twilight was giving it´s final salute to the day, and I just looked for some place to catch my eye.

I went into a youth hostel and they gave me the same, aforementioned look. In this case it was probably warranted (the sign definitely had pictures of organized youth groups). I looked at a couple of hotels clearly out of my level of comfort and budget. And then, as my blood-sugar, level of sleep deprivation, and overall lack of patience for any more retarded linguistics- I spied a tasteful, quiet little hotel with a tasteful, quiet little Senora at the front desk. I poked my head in and saw that the price was reasonable and saw that it was quite clean and had the feel like there weren´t very many patrons at all. I took it.

The Senora showed me my room- which got me a little nervous just because it was a room with a group of beds. But as per my intuition- no one else showed. I got the one double bed. I got the one fan in the room. And I went to bed early and happy. I got one of my better night´s of sleep so far on this trip.

So I woke up knowing that I needed to do two things- one being actually locate the language school and two being get there by nine o clock for the scheduled pre-testing. I had Hector- the cute young guy working the desk in the morning call me a taxi- and I explained in Spanglish where I wanted to go. I got that look that said- Ïm sure I can find it, but I don´t really know where it is, and this is perfect because I can drive around a little extra and rip off El Gringo Grande. Turns out the look was exactly that. We drove around for about 20 minutes until we stumbled upon the school and then the driver promptly took advantage of the fact that we didn´t agree on a price before setting off and ask for 50 pesos. I argued as best I could. And I really still wish I would´ve just told him 40- as that was what Hector said. But then, of course, I felt like a moron for not having at least had the address written down, for not having negotiated the price from the get go (like I knew to do), and so I wussed out and gave in.

I got out and more closely examined my drop off point- just to make absolute sure that I was indeed where I needed to be (you all know me and details). And I was taken aback by the grandeur of the place. It was palatial. The gate was still closed and I was a half hour early, so that wasn´t terribly surprising (especially given it´s Saturday today). But the grounds were neatly kept, beautiful stucco buildings decorated the massive yard, and overall I was left with this feeling of excitement, confidence, and ease. I really hoped that this was in fact my school (and that I hadn´t somehow screwed things up and it was the small shack with a sign saying free coffee and spanish lessons on the corner with coffee spelled kofie). Turns out it is.

I went for a short breakfast at a kind of ridiculous Denny´s-like place (it was the only place truly close by enough to sneak a quick meal where I could actually sit and think before showing up at nine). And I drank my coffee and just looked out on the park that is close to the school and just took it all in. It felt so nice to just sit, know that I knew where my school was, and really start thinking about being in one place for the next 4 weeks. Which is funny, because even know I realize how short four weeks sounds, but it´s relative in this weird temporary traveling space.

At 5 to nine, I walked back to an open gate and up to the open terrace looking the most like the official entrance. I was greeted by a friendly Guerra in Spanish named Erin. She´s Kiwi. How about that? She´s assistant to the director at the school and speaks wonderful Spanish and, of course, English is her native tongue. I could tell right away by her hesitancy to speak English that she´s good about speaking as much as she can in Spanish. I respected her right away.

However, she quickly realized, that, despite my wonderful capacity for pretending like I know what the hell is going on and being said, that I don´t. And so we spoke in English. She helped me iron out all the details. We got the schedule for school worked out. I got the bill for the school paid upfront. I got the low down on the city- effects of the influenza (it´s not down here- but the awareness is). And I got directions to my host family´s place- which turns out is like a 5 minute walk from the school! Perfect.

I gathered my things and walked with my map to the helpfully marked place on the map. I rang the doorbell and was greeted by the sweetest smiling little Senora named Estela. She said my name right away and told me to come right in. She introduced me to who I believe is her husband Daniel (but with both my lack of Spanish and the funny welcome interaction didn´t fully understand if he is) who is equally smiley, sweet, and short. Daniel was cleaning the bathroom and continued doing so while Estela gave me the full tour of my room. She started right in with lessons on bed, window, desk, towel (all things I have already forgotten and realize how important my little hand-held notebook truly is) and just made me feel totally at home. I am the only one staying with them and my room is a great size and space to simply have my own space. Perfect.

I started in with taking my recently laundered clothes out of the still smoke and sweat soaked backpack I´ve had for 11 years and putting them in the drawers of my dresser. I hung the few nice things I have on hangers. I hung my running clothes with my towel. I just took everything out of the pack and found a place for it in the room. After getting settled, I laid down for a little rest and moment of appreciation. I looked up the words for payment, daily, weekly, breakfast, lunch, and dinner and then proceeded to negotiate my way through a conversation with both Daniel and Estela to simply communicate the simple and important logistics. With a little gesturing and some funny looks, we made it through and decided that I would pay once a week on Saturdays and that I would eat breakfast with them. No Comeda y Cena. Daniel was impressed by even the tiny level of vocab I possess, and said something with an encouraging tone that, ironically, I didn´t understand. But I´ll take whatever I can get.

So I left the house with my keys (after a brief locking lesson)- and went to caminar- walk around. So I just spent the last few hours taking in, orienting, and scoping out the immediately walkable downtown area of Oaxaca. So far I have seen the little cafe that I think will be my favorite coffee sho. I visited the Zocalo. I ran into a woman I met on the plane. And I saw a baptism in one cathedral and a wedding procession at the famous Santo Domingo cathedral. Not bad for two hours.

So here I sit at this little internet cafe right next to Santo Domingo and I am so glad that I made the decision to be here. In just these last few hours I can just tell that this is a wonderous place. Very little English spoken. A sense of true local pride and overall sense of liveability- you can pretty much walk everywhere. So I am truly grateful to be here.

And my stool has been totally solid so far.

Love you all and thanks for ¨listening¨-

P.S. I love getting comments and if you send me your physical address, I promise a post card.

Off to Oaxaca

First things first-

Mom- I am fine. No swine flu down here in Oaxacan province. I have a mask and can use if needed. I will send you my host family´s address when i get it in complete- and if you still want to send me tamaflu- go for it. I really am just fine. Plus- the Directora of my program is from the states and is a very organized and knowledgeable person- so I am going to be in good hands.

I am leaving for Oaxaca in an hour and will be taking placement tests tomorrow in the morning.
I am excited to start this portion of the adventure and to really start engaging in the language. It´s been great to spend some relaxing beach time, eat good cheap food, and catch up with an old friend. I am really ready to moving on to this next chapter.

I´ll let you all know that I got in alright tomorrow.

They say 6-7 hours by bus from here to Oaxaca- so I figure that´s like 7-8 Mexico Time.

Hasta la Pronto