Thursday, July 28, 2011

Suspiro

Suspiro means sigh of relief - it's the name of the coffee shop I always come to to teach my English classes, and it is my current location from which I am writing to you. Seemed rather appropriate for the day's topic.



Contentment. How do you define contentment? How do you know when you’re truly content?

Sitting in the backseat of Bodo’s Chevy something-or-other-that-they-don’t-have-in-the-States listening to Bodo practice his English with Jay as they discuss the intricacies of photography lighting.  Chamo is half-listening in the front seat. My hair is being blown about by the wind from the cracked window as we fly down the highway on the way to ultimate practice. I am in a stupor of contentment. My worlds have interwoven so beautifully – I have found community here.

My new roommates are amazing. Jay’s Spanish has improved quite a bit from “que tal, amigo? (what’s up, friend?)” to basic verbs and hitting on women. Maggie and I crack each other up and have conversations that challenge me to stretch my memory back to my foreign policy and European diplomacy classes. We complement each other’s humor and intellect and I appreciate her presence so much. The other morning she and I were discussing the merits of being completely informed of current affairs versus taking the Buddhist “the news of the universe will come to me” approach, when Jay shouted, “Oh my God – breaking news!... Design your own board shorts competition!!” This is a perfect example of my life right now. Sadly, it will change again soon as Jay is heading back to the states on Aug 1.

Last Sunday we all went to a baby shower for Dany and Chamo (good friends - the captains couple on my frisbee team). Jay kicked butt in the all-male competition to talk on the phone, hold a babydoll and hang as many clothes on the clothesline as possible in one minute. Our table won the competition to dress someone up as a stereotype baby. We beat out Chinese baby and Harry Potter baby with our Apache baby; I think it was the lipstick war paint and the tissue paper tomahawk that set us apart. Totally PC. Inspired by our competition, we spent the evening at the movies watching the final Harry Potter movie. Ah, the end of an era…I can't have imagined a more satisfying weekend.

I think my favorite week of work so far was last week. We had a summer camp for the kids in Tecuanipan. Each morning, cappuccino in hand (gracias a mi boss, Miguel, who was living with us for the week with his 2 kids), we began the camp with English class. We taught them how to jump and shout and run around and the hokey pokey. We built on an environmental theme, predominantly focusing on water issues in the town. The first day we cleaned up the riverbank and made a monster from the refuse. We watched a movie about a little boy who saves his village, and did theater and art projects based on water. A rich man is hoarding all of the water of the townspeople – how do you save the town? Their productions were hilarious.

We took them to the pyramid and taught them how the Aztecs and their predecessors used their environment to build an incredibly advanced civilization. They helped us build with cob (and even some of the kids came back this week to help us mix it because they enjoyed it so much). On Friday we took them to the zoo.  Holy cow. The first part was a drive through. They gasped at the lions and squealed as an ostrich approached the driver’s window to taste Manuel’s shirt. We wandered through the butterfly garden, watched a bird show, fed a few kangaroos and finally took them home around 5 in the afternoon. It was great because a lot of the mothers accompanied us, so we served as the backup for them.  Even so, we were exhausted after a full week of planning, educating and entertaining. But it was fantastic! Who the hell knew that I wasn’t completely terrified of children? This is a dramatic change in my character.

So now things are moving more slowly. Jay hopped a bus to the coast to go surfing, Maggie and I are working on blogs for the events of the past month (ie sitting in a cafĂ© eating pie), and we intend to drive down to Chiapas next week with Beto. I’m really excited – it’s supposed to be an incredible state. I have to leave the country to renew my visa, and I was considering bussing over to Guatemala from Chiapas. But I feel much more comfortable (even though my bank account won’t) hopping a plane to Houston for a couple days. I’m going to eat brown rice. And organic food. And good beer. Upon asking Jay Stritter, with whom I’ll be hanging out during this time, if we could please please please go for Chinese food, he responded: We have Chinese food. Or Thai. Or Vietnamese. Or Korean. Or Mexican (lots of these). Sushi. North Korean (they just give you an empty plate and some meaningless currency. But it's ok because you get to pretend your leader is a Supreme Being). I wanted to share that little snippet with you because it’s hilarious, although not very tantalizing. Chinese buffet with vegetarian mushu, here I come. I won’t even care if the building has bull horns on it like everything else in Texas.

So, how do you know when you’re content? I feel so at peace. So grateful for my life here. I love my neighborhood, my friends, my boy, most aspects of my work…so what is it that makes me so restless? In November, I return Stateside to good friends, to a wedding, to a sweet road trip with my mom, and then…and then I ask, and then?.  

I know people with just a few bucks in their bank account and no plan for next week. But they feel free. And I feel pulled. Pulled in every which direction trying to find the release for this relentless pressure to be doing more and something meaningful. Whatever it is, it’s never enough. I just wish I could understand what that call was saying - it’s like there’s static. But you can guess which end that’s probably coming from. I guess I’ll mention that I started applying for grad school. I found a program that I love, so now it’s just a matter of getting there and paying for it. But I’d like to come back to Mexico after the holidays and work in a similar field until then. I wish I could balance the drive that I have with the patience and appreciation for the moment. Externally I think I can, but quieting the mind – that’s the real art form. In the meantime, I think I’ll have more Mexican pie.


Sunday, July 10, 2011

Pitches, Puebla and Pork Gut

Today is Sunday. I haven’t cried yet, so I think it’s going well. The high school boys have gotten really comfortable with me – like, a little too comfortable. I’ve been guiding them in the art of making cob (clay, dirt, water, hay – awesome natural building material) for the past week. We’ve had some really in depth conversations about globalization, immigration, environmental issues, rating make out sessions and why it’d be so gross to swap gum with a girl but not to make out with her. It’s challenging to take charge of someone that you brush your teeth next to in the mornings…and who is an adolescent male who would much rather discuss the merits of Boondock Saints than grind clay for 3 hours straight. I’m ragging on them a lot, but I haven’t hung out with high school boys in a long time and I am finding it to be surprisingly pleasant and certainly quite entertaining.

Many of them are finding a deeper connection with our work here - they are getting angry and overwhelmed by the problems we discuss and searching for profound ways to make changes (beyond the clichĂ© options of flushing less and writing a congressman). Others are good at shoveling, but seem confused by the changes in their bodies and not sure how to deal with the world – these are more easily identifiable as the ones who laugh like Scooby Doo.

Each night they sit around and smoke cigars and reflect upon what they’ve learned. This is my favorite part of the job. Hands go up with comments and questions of pessimism, frustration, confusion, inspiration; and then they take the discussion back to their rooms to continue pounding into the problems that face our generation. Jay told them, “Don’t get overwhelmed. Pick one thing that inspires you. One thing that really pisses you off and focus on that.” We want them to connect and to feel. We realize that most will go back home and start flushing the toilet more often and continue buying Nike shoes and GMO corn. But perhaps they will weave some of the lessons from this adventure into their own passions and their own paths. And that’s the cool part to think about.

On Friday we had to plan for yesterday’s soccer tournament/campout. So we’re planning and planning inside Ina’s house, and all of a sudden a storm swoops in and we have 2 minutes to save 25 people from the impending squall. So we scrap the meeting and I find myself in the driver’s seat of our 15 passenger van with 19 boys in the back. They limit their harassment as I slowly drive us home to Cholula in the downpour through the small windy roads of Tecuanipan. I was more nervous to get pulled over by a corrupt cop looking for a few bucks (or more than that, with 20 white, non-Spanish-speaking tourists) than I was to get popped by a dumptruck or a pothole. While it was one of the more nerve-wracking moments of the week, we made it home and my fingers eventually uncurled from the meaty part of my hand.

Yesterday was the soccer tournament. I and I spent most of my morning running all over the house coordinating people and looking for various necessities. Did I mention that I find it much more taxing to manage a bunch of people than it is to just do the work myself? Not having to answer lots of questions but just making my own cob all day or finding the dang tents myself is a lot less draining.  I’m going to bed exhausted all this week. And thank the Lord that I’m going to bed here in the house. Originally I was supposed to also camp out at the land, but wound up being asked to help guide a group around Puebla and go to dinner with them. Score.  So I am writing this from the warm and quiet house in the last moments before some of the absolutely drenched boys trudge back from their abandoned and flooded campground. Listening to the guys in the back of the van play punch buggy and make women’s tennis grunts every time we went over a speed bump was by no means as annoying as sitting in the rain with seventy grumpy boys. One of the teachers pleaded with the whole van to be quiet – offered them everything in her purse from suckers and gum to even a desparate promotion of savory Rolaids – but to no avail. We finally arrived and their shouts subsided as we meandered through the markets. I took a power nap on a bench while they bought saxophone bubble blowers, tequila-filled chocolates and Mexican sweat shirts.

After dinner and a mad dash through another rainstorm and I fell into bed, only to wake up this morning and start all over again. We’re having a huge party for the camp boys and my boss’s dad got here early and plopped half of a pig on the kitchen table. He spread the entire skin out over the counter and started shaving the hairs off with a razor, while the snout rested on the open flame of the stove. The whole house smells like raw pork gut. I can’t really explain the stench, but I assure you that you don’t really want me to. I’m trying to find work to do upstairs and far from the kitchen until the meat actually smells like it’s roasting. Bleah.

I’m running on pure coffee. At least it’s delicious organic coffee, but I guess I better go back to work before my steam runs out. The boys will be back soon and I’m supposed to be doing about 487 different things (including helping translate for this couple that brought their beautiful woven artwork up from Oaxaca to sell to the groups – SO gorgeous and cool). I’m crossing my fingers that I can at least go watch the last game of my Pachamamas men’s regionals (ultimate) at one o’clock, but I’m not holding my breath.

Life is so good. Have a great day guys – thanks for reading. 

Saturday, July 9, 2011

So. Many. Hormones

So I guess I have a lot to catch you up on. As I mentioned in my last blog, I got super sick when Lily was here. Thursday night I got sick, Friday and all weekend we were busy and in Mexico City, Monday I went back to work, and finally made it to a doctor on Tuesday.  I’d barely gotten my symptoms out of my mouth when she asked if I wanted a shot or pills. But  - but…. You don’t know me or my history or more details – @*&%*^ this system! I asked for more specific tests and she sent me to a lab. So for the next 3 days I would wake up at 6:45 to walk 40 minutes in the rain to deliver stool samples. So much fun. During this time, naturally, I couldn’t take any meds, so I started drinking lots of garlic, ginger, thyme, dragon’s blood tincture and honey teas. I also read that cider vinegar and grapeseed oil are helpful under such conditions, so I took a couple doses of those as well.  I was on a strict diet of boiled apples and spinach, rice and the occasional banana. I think my new roommates (Jay and Maggie – I’ll talk more about them in a minute) thought I was really weird.  But you wanna know something, my body healed itself! I mean, I cut it close a couple days later with the chipotles on my cemita, but I will-powered myself to recuperate slowly (which was really hard on Friday when I felt much better and all I wanted was ice cream and brownies and beer).

I finally got my results back, after a very confusing bureaucratic process during which I was convinced they’d lost the poo and dropped my name from their system. Oh, Mexico. I’m going to send the info to a holistic doctor I found in Tepostlan (a hippie town in the next state over) who is going to make me some tinctures to strengthen my system altogether. I feel much calmer about this process than just taking generic antibiotics. I think that the burrito cart dude, the doctors and the pharmaceutical companies are all in cahoots.

As alone as I feel when I’m sick sometimes, I never really was. My family was really supportive even from a distance, and we have two new volunteers who just arrived. Maggie got here a week ago Saturday and is super enthusiastic about life. She’s 20 and spending half of her junior year volunteering and the other half hopefully studying at La UDLAP where I play Frisbee.  We’ve already had some pretty interesting life discussions, which is one of my favorite things. So despite the age difference I think it’s going to be a healthy partnership. Jay is here for a month and is probably one of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He folded our laundry, offers to get us a drink when he gets up and listens when we talk. My mom asked if I could marry him and sounded a little bummed when I told her I didn’t think it would work out. But to say the least I am incredibly grateful for my new housemates, especially as we prepared for our next group to come. They only had a few days to settle in because last night 40 high school boys from private schools in Arizona and Nebraska moved in for a week and a half…

(Preface: This was written on Monday. Today is Saturday. I'm adding new revelations and observations presently...)

Actually, they seem like pretty cool kids. They’re really hard-working and very enthusiastic and I’m still waiting for the your mom jokes to start. Today was their first day of work and we started out digging dirt out by the river to haul up in bags. We were making bokashi – a natural fertilizer made of composted manure, dirt, hay, yeast, sugar and corn. We’re going to put it on the amarinto we planted on the land. Amarinto was a staple crop of the Mexican diet until Spaniards got rid of it to gain more power over the native culture. While we were digging one of the boys asked me what I thought about job outsourcing, and right now I’m half-listening to their conversation on immigration and border control in the next room. These boys are smart cookies and really connected to the world.

In the afternoon we had the chance to help our neighbor, Don Alfredo, plant beans in his plot. I volunteered right away. Rather than measure out the rows and the depths, the deal is that you take off your shoes and walk in as straight a line as possible. Then someone follows behind and drops three beans into each footprint. Then we cover it with a swish of our foot. It was very rhythmic, and nothing like the diligent planning of the rows at the Dickinson Farm, or hunched over planting meticulously at Beardsley. We went so slowly compared to Don Alfredo, but I got the chance to have some really great conversations with a couple of the boys, and sink my feet into farmland, so I was quite content. Then we smushed 20 people into the 15 passenger van (with two riding along the bumper on the back) and headed back to Ina’s house. I always had a good bit of respect for mothers of teenage boys, but so much more now that I have seen many of them eat all at once. It was a lot like a plague of locusts. I’ve been hiding in my room writing since the frenzy ended.

I’m sharing the 10x8 room with Maggie and my boss’s niece who is also working with us for the week. I tried hiding under the bed, but it was too dusty (even though we swept twice). Soooo a lesson in finding your inner sense of peace (and adolescent male). I’ll try to write yall again soon assuming I survive the soccer tournament and campout we have planned for 100 boys from various communities on Saturday. If you don’t hear from me by the following Thursday, have someone check under the bed.  

So. Many. Hormones

So I guess I have a lot to catch you up on. As I mentioned in my last blog, I got super sick when Lily was here. Thursday night I got sick, Friday and all weekend we were busy and in Mexico City, Monday I went back to work, and finally made it to a doctor on Tuesday.  I’d barely gotten my symptoms out of my mouth when she asked if I wanted a shot or pills. But  - but…. You don’t know me or my history or more details – @*&%*^ this system! I asked for more specific tests and she sent me to a lab. So for the next 3 days I would wake up at 6:45 to walk 40 minutes in the rain to deliver my stool samples. During this time, naturally, I couldn’t take any meds, so I started drinking lots of garlic, ginger, thyme, dragon’s blood tincture and honey teas. I stunk, and my new roommates (Jay and Maggie – I’ll talk more about them in a minute) thought I was really weird. I also read that cider vinegar and grapeseed oil are helpful under such conditions, so I took a couple doses of those as well. I was on a strict diet of boiled apples and spinach, rice and the occasional banana. And you wanna know something, my body healed itself! I mean, I cut it close a couple days later with the chipotles on my cemita, but I will-powered myself to recuperate slowly (which was really hard on Friday when I felt much better and all I wanted was ice cream and brownies and beer).
I finally got my results back, after a very confusing bureaucratic process during which I was convinced they’d lost the poo and dropped my name from their system. I’m going to send the info to a holistic doctor I found in Tepostlan (a hippie town in the next state over) who is going to make me some tinctures to strengthen my system altogether. I feel much calmer about this process than just taking generic antibiotics. I think that the burrito cart dude, the doctors and the pharmaceutical companies are all in cahoots.

As alone as I feel when I’m sick sometimes, I never really was. My family was really supportive even from a distance, and we have two new volunteers who just arrived. Maggie got here a week ago Saturday and is super enthusiastic about life. She’s 20 and spending half of her junior year volunteering and the other half hopefully studying at La UDLAP where I play Frisbee.  We’ve already had some pretty interesting life discussions, which is one of my favorite things. So despite the age difference I think it’s going to be a healthy partnership. Jay is here for a month and is probably one of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He folded our laundry, offers to get us a drink when he gets up and listens when we talk. My mom asked if I could marry him and sounded a little bummed when I told her I didn’t think it would work out. But to say the least I am incredibly grateful for my new housemates, especially as we prepared for our next group to come. They only had a few days to settle in because last night 40 high school boys from private schools in Arizona and Nebraska moved in for a week and a half…

(Preface: This was written on Monday. Today is Saturday. I'm adding new revelations and observations presently...)

Actually, they seem like pretty cool kids. They’re really hard-working and very enthusiastic and I’m still waiting for the your mom jokes to start. Today was their first day of work and we started out digging dirt out by the river to haul up in bags. We were making bokashi – a natural fertilizer made of composted manure, dirt, hay, yeast, sugar and corn. We’re going to put it on the amarinto we planted on the land. Amarinto was a staple crop of the Mexican diet until Spaniards got rid of it to gain more power over the native culture. While we were digging one of the boys asked me what I thought about job outsourcing, and right now I’m half-listening to their conversation on immigration and border control in the next room. These boys are smart cookies and really connected to the world.
In the afternoon we had the chance to help our neighbor, Don Alfredo, plant beans in his plot. I volunteered right away. Rather than measure out the rows and the depths, the deal is that you take off your shoes and walk in as straight a line as possible. Then someone follows behind and drops three beans into each footprint. Then we cover it with a swish of our foot. It was very rhythmic, and nothing like the diligent planning of the rows at the Dickinson Farm, or hunched over planting meticulously at Beardsley. We went so slowly compared to Don Alfredo, but I got the chance to have some really great conversations with a couple of the boys, and sink my feet into farmland, so I was quite content. Then we smushed 20 people into the 15 passenger van (with two riding along the bumper on the back) and headed back to Ina’s house. I always had a good bit of respect for mothers of teenage boys, but so much more now that I have seen many of them eat all at once. It was a lot like a plague of locusts. I’ve been hiding in my room writing since the frenzy ended. I’m sharing the 10x8 room with Maggie and my boss’s niece who is also working with us for the week. I tried hiding under the bed, but it was too dusty (even though we swept twice). Soooo a lesson in finding your inner sense of peace (and adolescent male). I’ll try to write yall again soon assuming I survive the soccer tournament and campout we have planned for 100 boys from various communities next Saturday. If you don’t hear from me by the following Thursday, have someone check under the bed.