| Samantha 的个人资料Postcards from Mexico照片日志列表 |  工具  帮助 |
International House of MenToday, my landlord from downstairs came to deliver some mail and let me know that he and the family are moving away in a week. I congratulated him and hesitantly asked, so, what's happening with me?
He told me that the university across the street loves the size and location of the house, so they're turning it into housing for scholarship students. In this case, it will be guys coming from Peru, Venezuela, Ecuador, Bolivia... a South American smorgasbord. My mom has joked that she would say prayers to Saint Anthony for me, the patron saint of lost items and found husbands, so I'm wondering about God's sense of humour.
As soon as the landlord said "student house of guys", I had a flashback to the boys living in residence when I was in university: windows lined with beer cans, sweaty shoes, and The Simpsons playing on TV 24 hours day.
As if reading my mind, my landlord quickly added that since these are scholarship students, they have to sign a special contract that says no noise or disturbances, or they get kicked out. The family loves me, so the minute I think things are getting out of hand, it would be dealt with. I agreed to all of this in an upbeat manner, but really, I'm a little sad to see the family go. I had complete privacy, but they sort of looked out for me. The mother also made a mean brunch.
When I think about it, I get more annoyed by the thought of the washing machine being monopolized than by the idea of keg parties, so we'll just have to see how this goes. A ver. The PosadaThis was my first Christmas in Mexico, so I tried to pay special attention to its unique traditions. One thing that I noticed in general is that it is not as commercialized as the rest of North America. I say in general, because I still saw Christmas trees decorated with Coca Cola polar bears, bras, and cellular phone propaganda. There were less houses decorated with lights, but lots of nativity scenes, especially on the main avenue, Reforma.
One of the most popular ways to celebrate Christmas here is with a party known as the Posada. My family and I were invited by good friends to a well known Posada in the small town of Tepotzotlan, northwest of Mexico City. One of the people we were meeting held our place in a very long line, so it wasn't long before we got in and received a large ceramic mug full of steaming hot punch. From there, we took our seats in a courtyard and waited.
The event began with mariachi songs, and a show called the Pastorela, a very humorous play that tells the story of shepherds on their way to visit the newborn Jesus, and how they are tempted by devils on the way. Every time the devils try a different tactic to lure the shepherds away, the Angel Gabriel and his sidekick rush in on their horses to save the day. The actors who played the shepherds were local people, but the other actors came from a variety of special Posada groups. The ambiance was perfect, with the old courtyard, authentic music, unique costumes, and real animals (see photos).
The second part of the event was the actual Posada, where everybody leaves the courtyard and walks down the cobble stone paths, eventually coming back to the door, where they have to sing the Posada song, asking permission to be let in, like Mary, Joseph and Jesus would have done on their journey. Eventually we were let inside and sat down to a delicious dinner of Pozole (corn soup), Tamales, champurrado (spicy hot chocolate), and Mexican sweets... during this time they also broke several piñatas and serenaded us with more Mariachi music.
Despite the hundred or so people there, I found two good friends in the crowd- one, a co-worker, and the other was Marco, a friend from high school in Canada! The world felt so small and the Christmas spirit so encompassing- I couldn't have been more enchanted, finding the warmth of tradition and friendship being shared so openly with my family and I. Post-Familia BluesOn Tuesday morning, I waved towards the direction of a large black van as it drove off with my parents and my brother inside. They were going back to Canada and I returning to my apartment in the North.
The taxi driver saw that I had tears in my eyes and he readily agreed to the price I suggested to cart me and my suitcase home. While cruising haphazardly down the highway, the driver and I had philosophical conversations about my strange Spanish accent, relationships, and some of his racy travel adventures. By the end of the ride I was bursting with laughter and was sad to see him go as well.
When I finally lugged my heavy suitcase up to my apartment, I was greeted with my rabbit's revenge. Supremely annoyed that she had been left in the care of my landlord for two weeks, she had shed everywhere. The hairballs were the size of bunnies themselves, playfully dancing around the clay tile floor. I played with Xempa for a few minutes, picked up the majority of the fur, and tried to get my life back in order.
After a couple of hours of organizing and starting the first of four loads of laundry, I sat down and moped. The time with my family had been full of talking and laughter- they kicked me out of their room on the last night so that they could go to bed- and now I was alone in my freezing cold apartment. I took solace in wearing the Canadian pajamas that they had brought, sucking on a maple lollypop and reading a fluffy Christmas mystery novel.
I don’t regret for a second having moved to Mexico, I love it here. The thing is, there is just no replacement for my family, and that weighs the heaviest on my mind when I think about staying here for longer than the original two years. We’re thousands of kilometers away, but when we saw each other, we just picked right up again. It went too fast.
Anyway, things are getting back to normal. Laundry load number four is drying on the line, my fridge has tortillas and cactus, and Xempa is content to ignore me again, now that I’m "home". 12月8日 Peace and Love Y´all!Time to become another year older and celebrate Christmas, Mexican style, with la familia. I´ll be back in two and a half weeks. Peace and love! 12月6日 Mom and Dad, Be Mean!My family is coming this Sunday, something that everybody in my life has heard about repeatedly. The secretaries in my office have been keeping a countdown for me this month... it´s been the only thing on my mind since I haven´t seen la familia for a year.
I talk to my parents at least once a week (Skype, we thank thee) and this week I said to them,
¨Please be my parents. Tell me I can´t stay out late, bother me about my clothing, whatever. Just be my parents¨.
Now, they´re super cool. I haven´t had a curfew since I was 17, and they seem to support everything that I´ve wanted to do, encouraging my independence.
To give you an idea of how my friends families work here, let me relate a conversation I had with a mama a few weeks ago. The mom told me that when her 27 year old son goes out, she doesn´t go to sleep until he comes home at approximately 6:30am. She´ll call on him to make sure he´s ok during the night... and this isn´t the exception, but the rule. Most of my friends, even in their 30s, live with their parents, and mom and dad constantly make sure that their children are safe. Having lived with a Mexican family for a while, I was a little bothered by my 1am curfew, but since I´ve been away from my family for so long, I want the curfew. I want phone calls, anything. The old family feeling. It seems like it should be the most normal thing in the world now, even for this super-independent daughter. |
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