I'm home

I have been really busy since my last update finding a house and moving in. I found a roomy, sunny place about 10 minutes from work. It's inside a little compound with 5 other houses. The landscaping is lovely and the neighbors are awesome. Everyone is looking out for me and doing what they can to make me feel welcome. We were told during Peace Corps training that we would be in a fish bowl 24 hours a day. Normally I would run in the opposite direction at the thought of a small-town mentality, with everyone knowing my business. But in this case it’s very comforting. For example, I was having trouble with the water heater pilot light. A neighbor called the gas company for me, then wrote a note in Spanish explaining the problem in case I was unable to communicate with the crew.

There is much to see and do nearby, and the bus transportation is excellent, so there is really no need to own or drive a car (prohibited by the Peace Corps anyway). Taxis are relatively cheap and plentiful for the occasional shopping trips or getting caught in a downpour. I enjoy the walk home from the bus stop, and pass flower fields and a pretty blue and white church.

There is a mercado about three blocks from my house on Wednesdays and Sundays, with a huge variety of fruits and vegetables, clothes, household items, plants and flowers grown in the nearby fields, and some things I have not yet identified. People spread out their goods on cloths on the ground and talk to you as you pass to entice you to buy their things. I’ve been called “bonita” more than once while shopping there, and pretend it’s because they’re awed by my exotic beauty (I heard that) and not that they’re trying to flatter me into stopping to buy their wares.

The food that’s prepared there looks very tempting, but I pass it up in favor of fresh produce that I buy and take home to wash carefully, then eat with gusto. I think that’s the single best thing about living on my own again – I have control over how my food is prepared. There are large, shallow copper pans filled with frothy chocolate de agua (cacao with water and cinnamon). The cold liquid is stirred continuously with a special paddle to create a foam, which is scooped into plastic glasses and served with a straw. One woman had a cell phone hanging from the ceiling at ear level so she could talk while stirring her chocolate.

There are piles of charcoal and what is possibly compost (I’m afraid to ask), pails and mops, hardware, small avocados with smooth, thin purple skins that look like plums, huge baskets of bread, and the ubiquitous chicharron (rendered pig fat). I bought some ears of corn and boiled it, eager for a little taste of home. I slathered it with butter, sprinkled it with a little salt and dug in. It was the worst corn I ever tasted – tough and bland. Maybe it was intended as maize for tortillas and this stupid Gringo ate it right off the cob. Speaking of tortillas, there are several little tortilla factories, or molinos, in my neighborhood. These are co-ops where the people bring their corn, which is grown in nearby fields, to be ground and made into tortillas while they wait.

I had a going-away party last weekend for four MBA students who were working at the institute for the past few months. It was also a surprise birthday party for another volunteer whose girlfriend asked if we could use my house for the party. I knew things were out of control when I received an e-mail invitation to my own party a few days later from some other volunteers who were “passing the word.” I was expecting 15 people and 32 showed up. The girlfriend came over during the day and blew up a couple dozen globos (balloons), which she filled with confetti. Between the occasional spills, busted balloons and confetti, the floors looked like clowns had partied there the night before and got sick. But it was worth it. Everyone brought something to eat or drink, and there was music, dancing and laughter – a perfect way to break in a new house.

A fellow Peace Corps Volunteer is coming to visit me next weekend. She’ll be here for my birthday, and the other volunteers in the area are also coming over for dinner.

The center is on vacation for the next three weeks and I’m looking forward to fixing up my house and just relaxing – something I haven’t done in quite a while. My landlord gave me permission to paint a mural on my utility room wall that faces the glassed-in kitchen. And I want to fill the sunroom with plants and flowers from the mercado.

The rainy season here extends from May thru September. It usually rains in the late afternoon or evening, but is mostly sunny and pleasant during the day. In the winter it can get chilly at night -- down to the mid-40s! (These people don't know what "cold" is.) My home town is suffering through a heat wave. That’s one thing I don’t miss: the swampy Wisconsin summers. Throw in the miserable Wisconsin winters while you’re at it.

I’ll write another update in August, when the institute is back in session and my work gets under way in earnest. Until then, enjoy summer, heat and all. I bet shoveling doesn't sound so bad right now.

"Normal"

Hola everyone:

I hope you're enjoying summer. I'm loving the weather here.

Life is becoming more "normal," and I'm falling into a regular routine. I put "normal" in quotes because I often feel like I'm living in a parallel universe. Much is similar to life in the U.S., but something is always just a bit off center, like seeing cars pass on the highway, followed by a donkey cart, or looking down a city street and seeing a man herding goats, then there's the public toilets with no seats (and I was worried about squat toilets in Morocco), display cases filled with pig-sized chunks of chicharron in the deli section, a Sam's Club with a volcano looming in the distance, soldiers with rifles at a shopping mall, and on and on.

The juxtaposition of the research center where I work against the little town is perhaps the most striking. I sit in an office all day using modern technology, surrounded by brilliant scientists conducting world-recognized research, then step out of the campus gate and into a third-world country. I have a new theory about the church bells and fireworks: they're to maintain the town's identity and not be overshadowed by the center. The bells say: "We're still here -- do you hear us? We're loud, we're strong, and we won't forget who we are."

I'm making a real contribution at work and feeling very good about what I have to offer. I have been editing English web pages and other documents, and just submitted a proposal for a web content management database.

The most surprising development is being asked to work with a group of women to start a local recycling program. Another volunteer remembered reading about my recycling past in my resume and asked me to become involved. The goal is to empower women by helping them start their own recycling businesses. Someone mentioned that the new governor has made recycling a goal. I suggested we contact his office and ask for his support in making the town a model for his recycling program. We're going to try to meet with the Secretary of the Environment to talk about it. I didn't think I'd be revisiting that part of my life again, but I'm glad I can apply my experience.

I posted some new photos on Flickr at http://www.flickr.com/photos/20264995@N07/?saved=1. I took these during my trip to Tlatlauquitepec last week to help at another science fair. The pueblo is in the mountains northeast of Puebla. It's a gorgeous place, but I still don't know how the science trailer made it through the narrow roads and tight turns. I tried to capture the enchantment of the children who were engaged in making the models of Saturn, Mars and 20-sided models of the universe. Their faces reflect the openness and generosity of the people in Mexico.

I also posted a photo of my first Mexican painting. It is of the entrance gate to Zapopan, in Guadalajara.

I have also experienced what it is like to be "different." I can recognize children who have little, if any, contact with gringos. They stare unabashedly at me as if I'm from another planet, especially when I talk, and smile with wonder at my strange speech. I'm hoping those children will grow up with a positive memory implanted in their brains.

Speaking of speech: I am now at the "Intermediate" level in Spanish. I can carry on a conversation (albeit limited) and usually get my point across. But once in a while I run into someone who doesn't have a clue what I'm saying. It's probably a combination of my accent and pronunciation (could it be I am not using the right words?!). An unexpected side effect of learning another language is my memory seems to have improved.

I'm hoping to have a new house by next week. When that happens there will be another flurry of activity as I shop for furnishings and supplies and move in. I'm looking for a place with a patio so I can fill it with plants and flowers and create an outdoor room to make the most of my time in Mexico.

More soon.

I see stars, and planets!

Hola!
This is the end of my first week at work and I am delighted with everything -- work environment, my projects, the people -- these two years are going to go fast. And I'm sleeping better, too. It's cooler here and there are no mosquitoes! And my bedroom has screens so I can sleep with the window open.

I heard that the nearby active volcano had a large plume the day I arrived. I don't know if it was acting up or just happy to see me.

I have changed my mind about living near the center. Yes, it is a sleepy little pueblo with a real "Mexico" feel. And yes, it is within walking distance to work. But there's absolutely nothing else here. There's no restaurant to go to after work for dinner; there's no cinema, no museums, no mercado, nada. I am expanding my housing search to the larger city nearby.

The 8th of June arrived with a clamor from the church bells and reports of fireworks, unlike anything I have experienced in Mexico so far. Even the neighborhood dogs and roosters got into the act. (This was at 6 a.m., by the way.) It turns out that the 8th of every month is special here. That's when the town celebrates the conception of Christ. Every single month.

The bells and fireworks went on throughout the day. Around 6 p.m. I was back in my room at home and heard what I thought was a small marching band pass the house. I looked down from my second-story window and saw a small procession of villagers walking down the street, led by a few musicians and someone scattering flower petals on the cobblestones to create a flower-strewn path for the "virgins" who followed. Eight adolescent girls dressed in white carried a small statue of the Virgin Mary in a glass case. A dozen or so others brought up the rear. It was such an unexpected sight I had to laugh out loud. (No one heard me, though). The procession passed, leaving a flower-strewn street in its wake. I can't wait for December!

A few minutes later I heard a bicycle horn on the street below. I went to the window again and saw a man riding a bicycle slowly over the cobblestones and through the flower petals. Mounted on the back of his bike were three huge baskets filled with bread. He honked his horn as he passed to alert the neighborhood that the bread man was there.

I had another "where-the-hell-am-I?" experience yesterday. I was in a small pueblo with my office mates to help with a traveling science fair. Our center and other institutions participate in a government-sponsored fair that brings science and culture to rural parts of Mexico. We provide a science trailer with hands-on demos, and offer handicrafts for children, including paper models of a telescope and a 20-sided model of the sky with all its constellations. My host sister/co-worker and I helped children construct models of Saturn using recycled CDs and styrofoam balls. In 2.5 hours we helped 150 children make little Saturns and had to turn kids away because we ran out of materials.

I added several Spanish words to my vocabulary yesterday: "Paciencia, por favor!" (Patience, please!), "Una a la vez!" (One at a time!), Resistol (a brand of glue), and "Dios mio, de donde todos estos ninos vienen?" (My god, where did all these kids come from?").

The surreal moment came when, through the din of the crowd, I heard a performer singing the Italian aria Nesun Dorma -- my all-time favorite piece. There I was, surrounded by Mexican children making little Saturns while listening to an Italian opera. It was a peak experience.

New-food report: Now I know why prickly pear is usually sold only as jelly in our stores. They're full of seeds, like little black BBs, and almost impossible to eat. But the Mexicans just chomp away, seeds and all. Same with guavas. I don't know how they do it. I am the proud owner of a quarter bushel of prickly pears, or "tunas," which we bought on the way home yesterday. I'm going to make agua fresca, which is fruit-flavored water. I can just strain out the seeds. That's if I can navigate past the hundreds of little thorns on the outside.

Hasta luego. I'm going to a barbacoa (barbeque) tomorrow, hosted by one of the counterparts to welcome the five of us to the center. Should be fun.

I love summer camp!

It's official!

It’s official! I was sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer on Wednesday, June 1st. I am very glad the training is over! My little Peace Corps lapel pin with the U.S. and Mexican flags is the hardest-earned token I have ever received. I arrived at my new site yesterday afternoon. In spite of a concerted effort to avoid buying souvenirs before moving from Queretaro, I arrived with six bags of stuff (all necessary, of course). I ended up giving some things to my host mother before I left to lighten the load. My new host mother (make that “sister”) is very nice and works in the same office as my counterpart. She lives with her boyfriend and her dog in a relatively modern house. Word to Sarah Palin: I can see a volcano from my house! I’m not sure if it’s the dormant one, but I’m probably better off not giving it a lot of thought. This is a charming little village and I’m already falling in love with it. I wouldn’t mind living here, in fact. There’s a lovely internet café and garden right across the street from my house that also sells ceramics, and the center cafeteria is only two blocks away. This morning I learned the story behind the persistent church bells and fireworks in the village. As a result, they are no longer as annoying, but just add to the charm of the place. During my site visit two weeks ago I thought the church bells were the product of some deranged priest in the belfry who rang the bells randomly day and night. And the ringing isn’t melodic, but a constant CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! During one serenade at 1 a.m. I timed the ringing at three minutes. When the bells aren’t ringing the silence is punctuated by fireworks at 6 a.m. First some background before I get to the bells: The local church is not much to look at from the outside, but it is absolutely stunning on the inside. I visited it this morning, and wasn’t able to take photos so I took notes. The church is famous for incorporating the indigenous people in the artwork, along with cherubs and other European influences. The walls are teal blue, and every inch of surface is covered with exquisite wooden carvings in deep relief, primarily in white with gilded edges and punctuated with primary colors. The effect of the white and gold against the teal blue is breathtaking. The walls behind the altar are entirely gilded. Carved heads with wide eyes, some dark-skinned and wearing feather headdresses, surround the interior and look down at the pews. Flowers are cultivated in the region, and there are fresh flowers everywhere – day lilies, callas, gladiolas, mums and roses. A foot-high pile of flower petals adorned the base of one of the Christ statues. I sat in the church and soaked up the delicious silence. I’m looking forward to going back there when I need peace and quiet. Now for the bells: The church actually has a bell committee and a fireworks committee, who decide the timing and frequency of the sounds. It’s a real honor to be named to a committee, I’m told. The bells are rung at 2 a.m. to tell potential thieves “I’m awake, so don’t bother coming inside to loot our precious artifacts and carvings.” The bells are also rung at 11 p.m. to tell all homeless people they can take refuge there. On days when the priest is present the bells are rung to tell everyone they can come for an audience. The first report begins at 6 a.m. with a single bell, followed by the aforementioned clanging. That is followed by another round about 15 minutes later, beginning with two bells to indicate it’s the second call. There’s a third and final call to say to the villagers, “Get your butts in gear,” but more delicately and in Spanish, of course. The fireworks are detonated every morning between 6 and 7 a.m. on days honoring Saints, which in Mexico is almost every day of the year. Because fireworks are so expensive, the number of reports is determined by the fireworks committee. If I do end up living here and not in a neighboring pueblo I’m going to have to stock up on earplugs.

Our trip to Mexico City last week was pleasant enough. The latest population count for the greater area is 110 million people and the place is huge. We visited CONACYT, the government office that has the arrangement with the Peace Corps to provide volunteers for their centers. We also visited the Ben Franklin Library at the U.S. Embassy and heard from U.S. Commercial Services about helping U.S. companies export to Mexico, then went to the U. of Mexico and the government office that handles patents and trademarks. The traffic was miserable.

We stayed at a charming little hotel called Casa Gonzales and had some nice meals in nearby restaurants, including lunch at a pre-Hispanic restaurant where we could choose either grasshopper soup or pasta with corn fungus as the first course. Someone in the group tried to make the fungus sound appealing by pointing out that it's "the black slimy stuff on the outside of ears of corn." I had the fungus anyway, comforted by the fact that I had an Epipen in my purse, which ultimately stayed in my purse.

Monday is my first day of work and I’m anxious to get started on what I came here to do. I’ll report back soon.