| Samantha 的个人资料Postcards from Mexico照片日志列表 |  工具  帮助 |
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5月27日 HotdogsI have some stories that I've kept to myself, as they seemed a bit too colourful to recount at the time. Now that we've all moved on to different jobs, I thought I'd finally tell them. I'll change people's names, just in case.
Last April, the school I was working at decided to host a special evening for a special group of students. Myself, along with some other teachers, were invited to participate. We all enjoyed the live music and ate some delicious tamales.
The next day, one of the teachers came into my office to talk about the event.
"Lupi", she said, "it was a nice time, but... I really have a problem with the tamales". From the lilt in her voice I had an idea of where this was going, but I asked her to explain.
"Well, the girls, they didn't want to eat them! They want to stay on their diets. And the guys, they don't want the tamales either, they want something better."
Mexico is a world were words float on the surface of deeper, hidden meanings. This teacher was young and born into privledge, as were the students. She saw the tamales of a symbol of poverty, of being backwards.
I opened my mouth to respond, to say that I was educated and fresa and loved the tamales, but I didn't even get the words out of my mouth before she continued.
"I just wish they had something classy and nice."
"Like, hotdogs". 5月23日 One Year LaterIt's now one year later since I moved back to Canada from Mexico, and I'm sure you've waited with baited breath to see what I kind of shananagins I'd get into. I've waited myself to see what would unfold, and this is what happened.
I got a job as an art teacher.
I moved to a town of 4000 people, and 10 000 animals.
I bought furniture.
I bought a new sporty red car.
I'm not particularily happier. I have thought about Mexico every single day since I returned, and love my job but still feel a bit uncomfortable in the country. Every night, the news talks about the rising cost of food, but our stores are packed with produce. People worry about funny things, like mowing their lawns with diagonal lines, and scooping up after their pet. White middle class women are apparently having a crisis over spots left on their glasses from the dishwasher. I'd love to see a band of stray dogs run by, crushing these bubble worlds as they pass. Sometimes I call people "the Canadians", and I realize that the after-shock is much stronger than the initial shock of moving to a new place. I'll have to read back to see if I was always this cynical.
On the bright side, I've been back to my own art, and I'm getting some great recognition for it. As I said, I love my job and the people in the tiny town are really nice. I do a lot of volunteering and plan on travelling again soon. I've been able to visit my family often, and I never want to leave them when I'm there. I've also been able to save for laser eye surgery, to take place in one month. I'm counting down the hours for that.
Thirty days until I literally see my country with new eyes.
The Canadian media is roasting Mexico for its safety record, but it still fills my dreams with colour and taste.
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