Speaking the English

One of my teachers was ill today, so after my first class I went to the Zócalo with Ashley. We were approached by this group of girls in school uniforms who asked us, in broken English, if they could talk to us for a school project. Of course, that meant that they would film our 'interview' for their class project. Which, okay, whatever, it's all good.

They ask us if we like Oaxaca, where we've visited, if we like the food, if we like Mezcal. When we say, Yeah, Mezcal is okay, they give Ashley a shot of Mezcal. And she takes it. AT ELEVEN THIRTY IN THE MORNING.

We did interviews for another two groups, but we both passed on the Mezcal they offered.


I hope their teacher enjoys watching the same two white girls three times in a row.

What happens in Puerto Escondido stays escondido

Puerto Escondido was amazing, if not extremely touristy in all the worst ways, and I'm going to post a more detailed account later, BUT.

My host mom was wearing a NEON PINK TRACKSUIT THIS MORNING. I feel like this is of paramount importance. I am currently trying to find out the reason behind this outfit, and I will report back a.s.a.p.

Also, I have a cough and can barely talk which makes the way I like living my life (with a lot of talking) very difficult.

Knocked up

The university teachers have been on strike since Wednesday, so they've been taking us on "excursions" to various villages outside Oaxaca City, like this organic paper mill and an art school at Vista Hermosa yesterday and various artesian shops and a market in Ocotlan today.

We also had a surprise baby shower for one of our directors, Layla, who is due in October. It all went really smoothly and even though we hired a clown (yes, A CLOWN), he was crazy and hilarious.

And we're off to Puerto Escondido at 11 p.m. tonight, and I won't be back until Tuesday morning. Have a nice weekend, everyone!

Those bad idea jeans don't even fit

You know what's a bad idea? Going to an hour and a half long ballet class after not dancing for a month, and then going to yoga the very next day.

My shoulders are going to fall out of my neck. My legs can barely move in my hip sockets. GOD, I AM SUCH AN OLD LADY.

Mexican "lasaña"?

Mexican "lasaña"?, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

Doesn't this look delicious? BECAUSE IT WAS.

This is what we had for lunch on Sunday at this super-expensive*, trendy, gastronomic-type restaurant. This was the Mexican "lasaña", and it was just layers of smoked salmon, tomato, and avocado.

Not lasagna, technically, but still quite tasty.



*Expensive is relative. It was the most expensive place we've eaten at by far, but I just looked at my bank statement and I only spent $18 there.

I love the smell of AK-47s in the morning

A few weeks back, we were taking a taxi home at 1 AM when we saw a guy standing on a street corner in Ashley's neighborhood, holding a semi-automatic weapon.

"Holy shit!" I yelled. "What the fuck is that?"

"Oh, my host mom told me about him," Ashley said. "He's just political."

"Those must be some strong politics."

Later, when we were all more sober, Ashley explained that people standing on street corners in residential neighborhoods with guns were actually bodyguards for people involved in politics. Oh, that makes more sense, although it's hardly comforting because THEY STILL HAVE SEMI-AUTOMATIC WEAPONS.


Tonight Catherine and I were walking home around 11:30 p.m. and saw a bodyguard, which doesn't surprise me anymore. Only he was wearing a bandana over his mouth, and it was the first thing I saw and it FREAKED MY SHIT OUT. Because you know who I've ever seen wearing bandanas over their mouths? Guerrillas. I'm just sayin'.

My silly Spanish ramblings

Feel free to point and laugh.

La memoria es una parte del cerebro donde se almacenan los eventos que ocurren, las caras y los nombres de las personas las cuales se conocen, los datos, las ideas sobre el futuro, y todos los otros pensamientos. No es un lugar físico, pero es una conexión de nervios la cual puede procesar y guiar la información que recibe desde los sentidos. La información que la sinopsis nerviosa recibe desde las experiencias personales son los recuerdos. Un recuerdo es un evento el que ocurre, una persona la cual conoce, o un lugar el que ha visto, pero no es un dato el cual se lea en un libro. Cuando se piensa sobre un recuerdo, la sinopsis le da una foto de la cosa que se quiere reconocer. Por ejemplo, tiene recuerdos de mamá, y cuando piense en ella, el cerebro produce una imagen de ella. Cuando la sinopsis no puede obtener la información de un recuerdo, dato, o pensamiento, se vuelve un olvido, y no lo tiene en su memoria al presente. Las fechas las que no se pueden recordar durante un examen de historia son olvidos.

And it breaks my heart

We went and visited Hogar de Las Niñas, a local girls' orphanage, to discuss volunteer opportunities with the director, and we've decided we're going to come on Saturday afternoons to sing songs or organise art projects. I can't wait to start working with these girls, because they're all so well-behaved, and apparently very starved for attention, because they only have four regular employees for thirty-five girls.

They are so cute and absolutely heartbreaking. I was talking to one of them, and she said she was born in May or July. It's definitely one of those things that's never even occurred to me--not knowing when you were born. I can't even imagine.

Taking the plunge

They eat grasshoppers here.

Now, that might sound like the start of a rant into all the gross, weird things here that I don’t like, but it’s not.

They’re called chapulínes.

My host mother offered me some on my second day here, and I even though I knew they would be tasty (I mean, they’re crunchy and covered in garlic and lemon; it’s like a potato chip without the trans fat), I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. I knew it would taste good (maybe even great), but I looked at them, and they looked like grasshoppers (SHOCKER, I KNOW) and I just couldn’t do it. They had legs. I mean, legs. That could start moving again at any moment. (They could not start moving again at any moment.)

I told my host mother to put them in my food without telling me, and I would eat them.

I’m not good at taking the plunge. Well, that might be a lie. I did come here, knowing no one, on a program I found at a study abroad fair that no one at my university had ever heard of or had anything to say about. And I actually did that before, when I signed up for debate/journalism camp in Italy two summers ago.

I think I’ve digressed.

I’m not usually good at taking the plunge. Especially physical plunges, like just running into the Pacific Ocean (it’s cold!) or jumping into the pool (it might be cold!) or, apparently, eating grasshoppers (I’M SORRY, BUT THE WAY THEY LOOK IS JUST FREAKING ME OUT).

Last weekend we were at this market, and Ashley bought a bag of chapulínes for everyone to share. And I took one out of the bag and stared at it for what must’ve been a second but felt like an eternity, thinking Just fucking do it already, just fucking do it, it won't be that bad, just fucking DO IT, and then just fucking did it.

My host mom said, “Oh, you wouldn’t eat them before, and now you say you ate them at the market!”

This city is smaller than I thought

This afternoon we went to cooking lessons, which were fun and delicious, and I will post pictures and the recipe soon, but I have more important news.

We saw that obnoxious white girl at the Zócalo today! That is the second time we've seen her in public since eavesdropping on her at the café. (I didn't mention it but I actually saw her the same night, walking down the street.)

She is clearly stalking us. (Clearly, she is not stalking us.) I wonder if she still hates Mexicans as much as she did on Saturday.

¡Viva México!

¡Viva!, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

Yesterday (and technically today too, because we get it off? I dunno) was Mexican Independence Day. I wore a green skirt, red tank top, and white overshirt. People kept looking at me, as if thinking, "Is she doing that on purpose, or is she just retarded?"

It does feel a bit strange to go to someone else's country and celebrate their national holidays, acting like you actually live there, and I sometimes felt yesterday that I was being one of those white people. But then I remembered that this is really just a big party and an excuse to get drunk. Also, CULTURAL IMMERSION.

First we went to a party our school was throwing (complete with a mechanical bull, totally appropriate) and I finally saw the very attractive teacher from Germany. When the girls finally got him to dance, they basically took turns molesting him and I was like, DUDE, THAT'S YOUR TEACHER, IT'S GOING TO BE SO AWKWARD ON THURSDAY. But, you know, after enough tequila, you really don't care.

In the evening, after Mexican pizza (onions, sausage, chorizo, and jalapeños) at Ashley's apartment, we went to the Zócalo for the Grito, where everyone yells, "¡Viva México!" a lot and then there are fireworks. After that, of course, was the drinking and dancing and being harassed by Mexican guys and hearing "I Want You To Want Me" in Spanish. (Carlos tried to tell me that's not what it was, BUT IT TOTALLY WAS.)

We have today off (to nurse hangovers, I guess, but I don't have one!) and holy shit, it's already 5:30 and I still have an essay to write. So, woooooo, ¡viva la independencia!

White people

It's so jarring how important being light-skinned here is. Wherever I go, I get wolf-whistles, calls of 'mamacita' and 'heeeey baby', and I know it's only because I'm white. Men everywhere are eager to impress us with their sparse English vocabulary. They seem to equate being white with being beautiful. There is a saying that I do not know in Spanish, but basically, if a baby is born with darker rather than lighter skin, they say something akin to, "It's dark skinned, but it could still be pretty!"

I remember when I thought racism was as easy as deciding not to hate people because of their skin color. Sometimes I miss being twelve years old.


On Saturday, Catherine and I were at this café and there was this obnoxious white girl sitting behind us. The kind (of person, not specifically white girl) who talks really loudly about personal things in public places like coffee shops and restaurants where NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT HOW YOUR EX-BOYFRIEND THOUGHT YOU HAD TO WASH YOUR FACE IN THE MORNING BECAUSE THE SANDMAN PEES ON IT AT NIGHT. You think I'm kidding, but I'm not.

Anyway, not only was she the regular type of annoying, but she was the racist type of annoying as well! The most ridiculous shit was coming out of her mouth, such as, "I hate the Mexicans here. It's like, all the English they know, they learned from a porno." What an asshole. She also didn't know how to say 'water with ice' in Spanish, and it's like, IF YOU DON'T SPEAK SPANISH, CARRY AROUND A PHRASEBOOK LIKE A GOOD TOURIST. Or if you hate Mexico that much, just leave. The people are wonderful and nice, and even though they holler at white girls, it's only because white people have been imposing racist and unrealistic standards upon them for hundreds of years, so SHUT UP AND GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM.

Things I learned this weekend

Dye job, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

• You can make these two colours by taking a parasite that lives on cacti and mixing it with acid (lime juice) for orange and an alkaline (lime) for purple.

• You can salsa dance to techno electronica.

• Three shots of Mezcal will fuck your shit up. (I think I already knew this, inherently.)

• Chedraui sells goat cheese.

• Mexican police are ridiculous caricatures of law enforcement officers.
  

• 'Mole' is the pre-Hispanic word for sauce, so 'guacamole' is 'mole del aguacate' or, avocado sauce.

• Be wary of those Mexico City boys.

Hasta Los Huesos

A lovely, haunting short film my Spanish teacher showed us in class today.

Truly getting away from it all

You know how, sometimes, you just wanna get away? Like the Southwest commercials, but for real, and completely, not some weekend-trip-to-Philadelphia-get-away, but 3,000-miles-and-a-different-language-get-away.

Well, I love romanticizing this feeling. Which is one of the reasons I choose to study abroad; so I could be away. But, of course, in this modern age of Teh Interwebs, you are never truly away, especially when you bring your laptop with you.

Even so, it's surprising how much you stop paying attention when you get away. I could, of course, read several news websites several times a day to keep up with the things I would hear on TV or the radio or see in the headlines or have people tell me in the course of a normal day while living in Los Angeles. And that would be without even actually reading the copy of The Los Angeles Times that gets delivered to my parents house every morning. But I don't bother. Because that would be a lot of work, and I'd rather spend my time and energy on Facebook.

Of course, they have news here, but it's all in reallyfuckingfastImeanunbelievablyfastlikeatenyearoldboywithADDoncrack Spanish, so I usually try and listen for a few minutes then give up, space out, and congratulate myself when I hear a word I understand. And the other day, the word I heard was Los Ángeles.

So I looked up.

Now, just before the story about Los Angeles, there had been one about floods in Mexico City, was a bit easier to follow because there are very obvious, illuminating pictures of cars with water up to the windows and people standing on rooftops as the waterline creeps up their walls. And then a few minutes later then mention Los Angeles and the word inudación (which means 'flood') and I'm all Huh? Did I just hear that correctly?

I asked my host mom if I heard it correctly, and she said, Yeah, there are floods in Los Angeles. And I'm thinking, um, no, it's September; Los Angeles southern California is being reduced to smoldering rubble, but it is not raining. That does not start until November or December, when all the fires have burnt up all their tinder and there is nothing left to stop the inevitable mudslides. That is how southern California works.

No, she said, the story said there are floods.

I went to latimes.com and searched for 'flood'.


It turns out two water mains broke, flooding Studio City and Valley Village.

I knew it wasn't raining in September.

Molé, molé, molé

On Saturday we went to my host mom's sister's (my host aunt?) for my host mom's mom's birthday (my host abuelita?). Apparently, she has a lot of dietary restrictions in her old age, so all she wants to eat is molé. So I had molé for the first time.

Everyone kept saying it was really spicy, but I didn't think it was anything impressive in the picante arena. Everyone was also very concerned it was going to make me sick (because it was so spicy), but I am clearly a culinary Evil Kinevil and can take anything.*





*Yes, that is what she said.

Sarita

Sarita, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

This is my intercambio. She's 4'10 and completely adorable and very nice about all the awful mistakes I make in Spanish.

When we met up yesterday, she wanted me to teach her some English phrases, so I taught her 'wonky', 'mess up', 'wanker', and 'gag me with a spoon', which was actually very amusing, me trying to explain what 'gag' means and the whole idea of a Valley Girl. Then I started singing "Let's Go To The Mall".

Fabbity fab

During our break between classes, we popped into a café across the street from the Language Center. Usually it's empty, but today there was someone there. He walked in, talking about how much he loves Sex and the City, and seeing us, says, "Hay chicas modernas. Como Sex y la ciudad."

He told us he wanted to practice his English, so we talked to him a bit, and he told us he owns a beauty salon here in Oaxaca and would give us a discount if we came in. When we told him we were from the states, he says, "Oh! Digame sobre el maricon Michael Jackson."


I must've laughed for five minutes straight.

Horario diario

Some pictures from the daily grind.

The courtyard, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

IMG_0292, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

This is Jill, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

This is Jill, always taking pictures!

This is Catherine, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

I thought this was very cute. Also, she looks like Juno.

He's the cute one, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

He is, right? I don't actually know.

Death threats!, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

Someone does not agree.

Santo freakin' Domingo, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

This is an ex-monastery and is absolutely HUGE.


The second student my host family is hosting arrived last night. Her name is Naomi, and she'll be here for a month, in a program for learning how to teach ESL. Her birthday is tomorrow! Guess who's getting Mezcal!

The glow of the pink building

The glow of the pink building, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

This is Melissa, on our tourist-y bus tour of the city on Monday night. We were right next to a bright pink building, so the colours turned out LOVELY.

A ho-hum sort of day

All the paper here is either blank or graph paper. I do not understand this. I do not understand this at all. I was at Chedraui (el supermercado) and I was going to buy a Jonas Brothers notebook as a joke, but it was 10 pesos more than just buying the loose leaf. Plus, IT WAS STILL GRAPH PAPER. So fuck that.

Also, I had a really good sandwich today! It was blue cheese, mayo, lettuce, avocado and jalepeños on ciabatta. For 20 pesos. Which is less than two dollars. Everything here is so cheap, it's amazing. I was trying to explain this to my intercambio, but I don't think she understands just how much of a cheapskate I am, and therefore how AMAZING this is to me.

I met with my intercambio as well today, but I'm not going to write about here until I have a picture. Because everything is better with illustrations!

Stating the obvious

Composición número uno, originally uploaded by sappycoldplaywhore.

"You write like a gringo," my composition teacher tells me (in Spanish).

Well, duh.