Postcards from Mexico: Blog

The Proposal

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 00:22:16 GMT

The week that I arrived to Mexico, we met at a chic luncheon to welcome myself, Caity and Lea Ellen to our new job. He was very attentive, charming, highly educated, wealthy, and had a quirky sense of humor. I'll call him Don Juan.

Don Juan started to come by my office, checking in on how my friends and I were doing. He made arrangements to help us when our electricity went out, and taught us funny workds in Spanish. He even took us out for dinners and dancing. He was in a position of power over us, but it was perfectly acceptable to be friends outside of work. I'll admit he was a bit flirtatious, but many men in Mexico are. It was all in good fun. I soon got caught up in work and didn't really talk to him as much.

One night, several months later, Caity, Don Juan and I went to the movies together. First he dropped off Caity, and then headed towards my house. When we pulled up to the driveway, Don Juan turned off the engine and turned to face me. He had a sombre expression on his face, and wide eyes. He faltered and said,

"Sami, I have an important question to ask you.

Will you marry me?"

I choked on my saliva. Coughing, sputtering, and wheezing, I responded,

"That will never happen". I immediately felt contrite. I didn't want to give him the wrong impression, but that was harsh. Really, I was stunned.

I tried again. "What I want to say, Don Juan, is sorry, but I really wasn't expecting that. Why would you ask me that question? You don't even love me."

He responded in ernest, "Yes Sami., I love you. I have a list, you know? I have a list of the qualities that I look for in the woman. She should have a good education, talk nicely, dress nicely, and love the family. You would make a good mother you know. I want a woman who want to support me." Ah, he wanted intelligent eye candy. I was almost laughing now, thinking that this poor man really bungled his proposal to a feminist. Besides, where was the diamond for this great potential wife?

"Don Juan", I sighed, "we aren't looking for the same things. I'm going to go inside now, and we'll continue being friends, ok?" I gave him an air kiss on he cheek.

"Ah Sami", he replied, "you break my heart. Why you break my heart?".

I laughed again and told him he would be fine. He was fine, but didn't hesitate to remind me during my last week in Mexico that his offer was still on the table.

Hotdogs

Tue, 27 May 2008 22:57:09 GMT

I 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".

One Year Later

Sat, 24 May 2008 03:58:58 GMT

It'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.

Last Postcard

Wed, 23 May 2007 03:55:51 GMT

I smell like I've walked through the perfume section of a department store, from all of the hugs and kisses today. The goodbyes have been tempered by promises of visits to Canada and Mexico. I'm almost packed, but can't say that I'm ready to let go.

I have lived the most beautiful, authentic, and unique life that I could choose for my self up to this point. I have embrased being an artist, a language learner, a happy spirit, a wanderer, a thinker, and a leader. I grew the most by being a follower though. I would do all of it a million times over, without changing a thing- I always wondered if I would feel that way at the end of my journey.

I've proved that I'm not afraid of change and I'm not afraid of me. I only added, never lost.

VIVA MEXICO! Thank you. I love you.

Adios Amigos

Mon, 21 May 2007 03:30:35 GMT

The word adios doesn't come up often in my conversations in Spanish, because it signifies saying goodbye to somebody for a long time. Normally, we say hasta luego, or, see you later. Sadly, the time has come to start saying adios.

I've said adios over lunches, parties, coffee, and walks. Over jazz, reggaeton, and mariachi music. I've been talking and laughing and crying so much that I've lost my voice as a result. The voice is overrated though, when one can have a bear hug with another.

In general, the surrealness of my life has multiplied the past two weeks. An on-again off-again flame decided that he loved me, and another man reminded me that his marriage proposal was still open. Three of my friends hooked up with three of my other friends in one night. I've seen who will just be passing through my life, and who will be there to stay.

Last night we went to party at my favourite club, Gendarmeria, in Polanco. It was the perfect venue, the place where everything began, where I met my favourite people and sang at the top of my lungs with the band. This last time I was arm in arm with all of my friends on the dance floor. There was a song about saying goodbye, and everybody was pointing at me, smiling and singing along. I was a wreck! It seemed the only thing to do was dance as much as possible, until the crowd thinned out, until my feet blistered and until my mouth was dry. My Mexican sister Monsey brought me home and stayed over. Both of us fell asleep until we heard the explosion of fireworks being set off down my street.

Despite waking up bone tired, I remind myself that this isn't really the time to sleep, I can do that in Canada.

The Honest Lawyer

Sun, 13 May 2007 22:49:26 GMT

While waiting for my bus, I looked at some music at the pirated CD stand. The young guy working at the stand told me that he thought I had moved somewhere else. No, I replied, I´ve just been busy. We conversed a bit more, and he revealed that he was a law student at UNAM, the prestigious public university.

¨So¨, I said, ¨you´re studying law and selling illegal material?¨

He glanced up, surprised. ¨Yeah, you know how it is¨.

¨But don´t you have to have some morals?¨, I promted. ¨I don´t think I would want you to be my lawyer!¨

He laughed... ¨girl, things are different here!¨

At least he was honest about that.

If I Were to Run to the Border

Sun, 13 May 2007 03:20:25 GMT

| have been fixated on what it will be like for me to leave Mexico, but of course, there are fabulous things to look forward to at home.

#1. I miss my family. Living in a culture where family is the centre of everything makes living alone pretty sad sometimes.

#2. I miss really intellectual conversations. Most of this need stems from conversing in my intermediate level of Spanish.

#3 I also look forward to sharing some particiular liberal ideals with a mass of people, including environmentalism, social justice, and feminism. I crave a recycling system. I miss people who believe that everybody is equal, no matter their race or income. The system isn´t perfect, but it exists.

#4. I salivate for international cuisine, finding food from Mexico, India, Thailand, France... I also look forward to being able to afford these culinary luxuries, because in Mexico they can burn holes in your pockets and wallets.

#5. I will enjoy reasonable phone and internet rates, but miss a more interactive community around me.

#6. The thing to look foward to the most in Canada is the understanding, tolerance and encouragement to continue living this bicultural life.

Power Off, Brain On

Sat, 12 May 2007 02:23:31 GMT

We´ve had daily power outages in my neighbourhood, from ten to twenty minutes at a time. Sitting in the dark has given my brain even more time to reflect, it´s almost in overdrive.

I was ready to leave Brazil after a year, the place wore me out. Leaving Italy wasn´t hard, I didn´t really attach myself and found the people could be rude to foreigners. And Mexico? It pulls at my heart, equally with Canada. I´ve stopped sleeping at night.

When I think about what I will bring back with me from this time in my life, it won´t take up very much space in my suitcase. I don´t want to pack the pottery, Mezcal, paintings, or silver. I will have some photos and mementos, but the thing I will hold closest is the memories of friendship, the richness of the language, and the new way of seeing the world.

I can tell you without hesitation how I´ve changed for the better. I´m more outgoing and friendly with people I´ve just met. I am more patient with the things that I know I can´t easily change. I live more for the moment, because the future is so unpredictable. I´ve continued to work hard (too hard), but I´ve also learned to really make use of my spare time, rather than let it just pass by. I´ve learned to get the dreaded ¨serious Canadian look¨ off of my face, and you wouldn´t believe how much more approachable that´s made me. I´ve convinced myself to be much more adventurous and spontaneous, but still use caution and follow my instincts, I really like the balance that I found in this regard.

I don´t understand everything yet. Participating in three hour meetings at work is still torture. I just want yes to consistently mean yees. And why can I find three sizes of plastic spoons, but no knives, anywhere?

In the end, the good far outweights the bad, because I´ve stayed true to myself. I´ve changed but haven´t given up a bit of my authentic self. If I could package the value of that, it would fill the plane.

News

Sat, 12 May 2007 01:48:08 GMT

This week, the attack of another Canadian hit the northern news. The police say he fell off a balcony, the family says he was assulted. It´s hard to speculate. I side with the Canadians with the fact that I don´t trust the police (the chief in the balcony incident is being investigated for narco connections himself) but I´m so tired of hysterics in the news. You´ve read this rant from me before.

One thing I couldn´t help noticing in all of the stories that I´ve read is the presence of alcohol. Being drunk in public here is a big no no, an embarrssment... and yet I´ve seen so many foreigners stumbling around the cities behaving stupidly. You do have to take basic precautions here, and you can´t do that while oozing booze.

The rest of this weeks news is pretty standard. A mere 10 000 Mexicans got naked in the Zocalo of Mexico City on Sunday morning. Naked protests are popular in this modest city, but this was for a Spencer Tunick photo shoot. Some very revealing (but tasetful) photos are located here: http://fotos.eluniversal.com.mx/fotogaleria/wfg.html?gal=3559.

Meanwhile, the narcos continued to attack each other (they are dangerous), Mexico City legalized first trimester abortions, and the pope said that the lawmakers who passed this should be excommunicated (a comment later edited by the Vatican to sound tamer).

In some ways it´s just another week, an in another, it´s amazing to see how much this country changes month by month.

Wedding Crashers

Mon, 07 May 2007 02:32:14 GMT

Ten hours of sleep the night before? Check. Comfortable sandals? Check. Formal dress dry-cleaned and ready to wear? Check. Date? Check. I was ready for Gaby's wedding.

I was floating in dream land, when the distinctive ring of my phone alerted me that I had recieved a text message. The screen lit up, letting me know that it was 5:40 in the morning, and that my date was going to miss the first bit of the wedding. I hastily wrote back "Alex, I don't believe it! Fine." and annoyed, tried to go back to bed. When I woke up I remembered that the wedding was out of town, and I had little time to find an alternate way to get there. After many phone calls to friends (who were sleeping and didn't answer), I ended up running to the house of a colleague and yellwed her name for 10 minutes until she came to the door and agreed that of course I could go with her.

The wedding was at a well known chapel in Tepozotlan, almost an hour from the city. After a beautiful service, we went to a sunny garden and were served delicious traditional Mexican food and fruit dipped in chocolate. The conservative style of the wedding surprised me, because Gaby is always very chic and Urban.

Weddings here always seem to require that you have a date, and it took me a while to realize why, but I think it has something to do with the fact that so many of the dances here require a partner. Fortunetly, Alex showed up just in time, and he's a fabulous dancer. Since I just learned how to dance two weeks ago, I wanted to dance to EVERYTHING, and the poor guy eventually made us sit down and have a tequila. I jokingly reminded him that I had gone to see him at the Nike 10k race, but let up until he had recharged.

Gaby's wedding started at 12:30 in the afternoon, and was still going strong at 10pm. However, Alex had a friend who was also, coincidently, getting married in Tepozotlan, and he wanted to go and meet up there. We didn't have an invitation, but I figured if Oprah could crash weddings, I could too.

It was strange to attend another wedding, which looked completely different, but had similar people dancing in similar dresses to the same songs that we had danced to for 8 hours before.

As I was dancing, a booming voice came up behind me, shouting, "Guerita!". I whirled around, and started into the chest of my friend Red. It was wild, because Red and I been trying to make plans the day before, until we realized that we both had weddings to attend.

I had a number of guys who were happy to dance with me at wedding number two, and we stayed until the lights amazingly flickered on and the wedding was called to a close at 2:30am. What surprised me more than the early closing was my energy level- I could have gone on for another fourteen hours.

Free to a Good Home?

Sat, 05 May 2007 00:43:42 GMT

The person who said they wanted to take care of Xempa apparently played the "yes means no" game with me, because the past three times they were supposed to pick her up, they didn't.

There isn't a lot of time left, so I thought I would post an add for her on Craigslist Mexico City, until I read this...

http://www.craigslist.org/about/PETA.html

It's worse than my friend's offers to turn her into a tasty stew!

¡Ay, como me duele!

Wed, 02 May 2007 02:52:41 GMT

Preparing to leave a country is almost as hard as preparing to get there in the first place, with all of the paperwork, packing, organizing... what nobody really talks about is the heart ache. I feel like I´m going through a really slow break up. I wish that none of it was so complicated- family and money vs. colour, history, and surrealism.

Last night, somebody said to me, ¨In developed countries, you can live comfortably. In Mexico, you can be happy¨.

So I´m trying to balance all of these feelings on my past, present, and future. There have been days where I refuse to think about any of it, completely avoid reflecting on anything that I see, knowing it will just depress me. There are other days where I feel a desperation to make as many of my visions stay in my head as possible, whispering to myself that I will never forget what I experience. There have been days where I want to try everything that I see (and subsequently don´t fit nicely into my jeans), and others where I don´t feel like eating anything, and shrink back to size. It´s been stressful. Really stressful with work on top of that.

Top these mind wars with the constant voices of, ¨Sami! No te vayas¨, ¨Sami, don´t go¨. There are so many beautiful, fun people here that I love, and that love me in return. The friends I´ve made here are one of the things that I´ve come to value most. It hurts me more to say goodbye to them than the people at home, because I don´t know when I´ll see these ones again, where the people at home were always sort of a given.

Currently, I´ve rebelled agaist the local tendency of trying to have as many goodbye parties as possible. I want life to continue like normal, with normal parties and normal dinners, until my last weekend. Otherwise, there are just too many tears that well up in my eyes.

Little Miss Canada

Tue, 24 Apr 2007 00:41:19 GMT

As you can see from my lack of posting, I've been busy. Completely exhausted is a better description. I'm a workaholic who has been on a marathon.

So what was my solution to avoiding burnout? Working even more on the weekend, so that I would feel justified to go to a party on Saturday night.

Alex called me last Wednesday to invite me to a costume party downtown Mexico City. I said sure, almost backed out two times, and then reminded myself that I had to get my fill of cultural experiences before I leave. I couldn't decide what to go as and refused to spend money on a costume, so I left it until the last minute, letting my creativity take over fifteen minutes before being picked up. I threw on my black dress, tuned my Olympic scarf into a sash, cut out a yellow foam crown, dug out my only tube of lipstick, and poof, I transformed myself into Miss Canada.

The fiesta was a blast, because it was a closed off street, where every house was participating. As you can see in a few of the pics, everybody took their duty to dress pretty seriously, with most renting elaborate getups.

I got an invitation to dance, and before accepting, gave my usual advance apology of having the grace of a buffalo. As we started though, it clicked, and I felt like I was floating.

My partner looked at my quizzically and said, "you dance just fine".

No saying this through a grimace, no howling in pain, no suddenly having to run off and find his cousin. We finished and I got an invitation to dance with somebody else, in a different style. Again the advance apologies, and again, I nailed it. Then another dance... salsa, cumbia, banda... was it the glamourous scarf draped over my arm? The majestic foam tiara? Whoops, don't question the new found powers. I danced all night, ojnly realizing that it was time to go home when the sun was shining in my face.

Yeah yeah...

Wed, 18 Apr 2007 20:30:57 GMT

My friend Gary made a point of writing to remind me that I haven´t written here lately. Yeah yeah, I know... those who think that Mexico is laid back haven´t actually worked here. I´m swamped. Plus, I´ve gotten a personal trainer at the gym, and have tried to see some friends before I go... hopefully I´ll add something substancial on the weekend, because besides being a workaholic robot, I always find something fun to do.

The People You Meet Along the Way

Mon, 09 Apr 2007 00:04:51 GMT

A lot of the joys that I received from avoiding tourists is that I feel I got a more authentic and interesting experience in general. Of course, it´s also not just where you go, but the people you meet. Here is a summary of some of the most interesting characters up to arriving in Comitán.

A young hotel worker had a brother who was nineteen, had met a great girl, and wanted to marry her. Unfortunately, the family said that the older brother (the worker) had to get married first, something he didn´t see happening. His dream was to leave Ocosingo and move to the ¨big city¨ of Tuxtla.
Maria Carman, a woman we met in Miramar, was trying to sink her talons into David. ¨Ohhh¨, she wailed, ¨I´m so lonely, so single. I have no husband you know! I would love a great man! Are you married? Yes, a good man that I could take care of.. I only have one daughter you know! Yes, so lonely¨. The poor dear, David has a long term boyfriend.
A man pulled hmself into the combi on the way to Comitán, and loudly slurred that he was very drunk (10am). Then he tried to take my photo, but I think he got the seat instead. While he was passing out, his thirteen year old son was trying to convince him that this would be their chance to try and cross the border to the United States, thinking there would be less patrols since it was the Easter Weekend. The father mumbled his blessing and slumpted over again.
A German teen with excellent Spanish told me that he was a high school drop out, working for an organic food farm and on his way to visit an ¨alternative¨ village full of new-age hippies.
Move over Maria Carman! Every man, woman and child thought that David was my husband (or my dad, haha), which was actually very convenient, because they treated me like a proper lady. When I told some that I wasn´t married, they were in shock. Sign, I´ll never have that football team I´ve dreamed of.

Saying Goodbye

Sun, 08 Apr 2007 23:40:03 GMT

On Tuesday morning, David, our new friends from the Czech Republic and I, realized that we had to say goodbye to Miramar and continue on with the rest of our adventures. The thought of getting back on the horse truck didn´t particulary appeal to any of us, so we inquired about another method of transportation. In David´s words- if I hear ¨BAG¨ once more...! One option was a plane, which would have been $200 to split between us, or a boat, $70 to split. We settled on the boat, which was nice, except after having sat on trucks, horses, and canoes for three days, I had really bruised my backside and wished I could take this leg standing up.

An hour and a quarter later, the boat guide dropped us on the lush banks of a hill. We climbed up, and found to our surprise that we were not in civilization as we had planned, but on yet another dirt road with shacks and livestock. Furthermore, it started to rain hard. A man came and met us on the road, leading us to his house so that we could take refuge. It was actually lovely, sitting amongst the turkeys and a baby pig that liked to have its tummy scratched.

Two hours later, a combi (a public transit van) came by our section of the road, and we climbed in, travelling for another three hours to get to the city of Comitán, which hadn´t even been on my itinerary.

We hit a military check point, and were asked to get out of the van. The group and I were surrounded by soldiers with machine guns as they searched our bags for weapons and drugs. Satisfied that we weren´t criminals, we were allowed to return to the van and continue the adventure.

Time Warp

Sun, 08 Apr 2007 23:25:59 GMT

One blaring observation about these remote villages in Chiapas is their different perspective on time from the rest of Mexico.

First, they did not follow the time change that the rest of Mexico switched to last Sunday. A worker at my hotel put it this way: there is the government´s time, and God´s time. We follow God´s time.

Second, they must feel that God is an early bird, because everything was done in a very timely manner! We left to go to the jungle early, and every time we made arrangements for a guide or service, the people showed up at least an hour before being scheduled. My theory is that with natural light and screeching birds as an alarm clock, there was nothing else to do but get up and get on with the day.

Laguna Miramar, The Lake

Sun, 08 Apr 2007 23:17:13 GMT

The President got right down to business and took us to where we could stay. It seemed he liked us and our reasons for arriving on his doorstep. As we slowly walked along dirt paths, every person that we passed looked at us and politely greeted us with ¨Buenas Tardes¨. Actually, that´s understating it. Old men stopped their horses, women poked their heads out their doors, and children came right up to us to unabashedly gawk at us. I tried to be subtle about looking at people and their customs, but they didn´t take their eyes off of me.

We stopped at a series of bright yellow cabañas. The dwellings were immaculately clean inside, with a single electric bulb attached to the roof, a small porch, and a bathroom across the path. We could stay there for $10 a night, or sleep in hammocks underneath a palapa (open structure with a roof). We chose the cabañas for that night, hammocks for the next night, arranged a guide, a canoe, and then paid up.

I said goodnight to the scorpion in the bathroom, buenas noches to all of the moths in my room (they were attracted to that blissful light bulb) and fell into a deep sleep at 8pm...

My body behaved in the most annoying way, daring to wake up at 6 o´clock in the morning. Our guide wasn´t scheduled to come until 8. I got up anyway, bathed in the river (there was no running water) and found that David had also woken up early. This was convenient, because our guide set his own timeline and was waiting for us at 6:45.

We had asked the locals what it was like to take the 7km hike to the lake, and they said it would be great. David asked if it was difficult, and I elaborated, asking if the walk was flat or hilly. Oh no, they said, it´s fast and pretty flat.

The moral of that story is that you should not ask people who have lived in a jungle all of their lives, if a hike will be easy or difficult. We didn´t have to cut a path with a machete, which would make it easy, but on a scale of 1-10, I would rate the trail at a 7, and I jog a fair amount.

The most surprising part of that hike was running into men from another village who were returning from the lake. They had a band of cloth cutting across their foreheads, which was attached to something black and boxy on their backs. They were dragging these boxes up an extremely steep hill. Where they coffins? No, they were speakers and subwoofers from their party the night before.

When we arrived to the lake, I was in awe, and from the pictures I posted you can see why. The canoe was waiting for us, and our guide slowly cut his paddle through the crystal clear water. The guide tried to teach me some words in the Chol dialect, but even the simplest words were too complicated for me.

We went to visit a cave full of bats in the ceiling and giant tortoises under the water. We came to ancient Mayan petraglyphs of a hand and jaguar, saw a Mayan rock carving, and hiked to a bay full of crocodiles.

I asked our guide why the crocodiles came to this section and not the main lake.

¨Oh¨, he replied, ¨there are crocodiles in the main lake too.¨

¨And you let me swim in there?¨ I squeaked.

¨Nah, it was ok, they like it there more in the night¨.

One of the things I wanted to do the most, which was visit the island with the ruins, was not possible, because the neighbouring village was in charge of that area and had closed it to tourists.

I was prepared to see a lot of wildlife, but it turns out that the savage animals were going to bed at 8am. I could hear the howler monkeys (like lions) and saw a lot of fish, birds, and crocs. The only mammal that I saw was a poor little spider monkey, dead on the jungle floor.

The day was deliriously beautiful, and it had been worth traveling almost 8 hours to get to see the area. Some of the village leaders told David and I that when they were making council decisions, they had to think hard about what kind of legacy they wanted to leave for their children, and then decided to get advice on a 100% protection and anti-pollution policy, along with a real eco-tourism project. It seems that the most poor, simple people on our planet can have the wisest visions on how we need to take care of our earth.

Laguna Miramar, The Journey

Thu, 05 Apr 2007 16:09:57 GMT

On Saturday night, I was relaxing at my hotel in the pretty little city of Ocosingo. As I was walking past the foyer, I heard a voice speaking Spanish with an American accent, talking about going into the jungle. Curious, I wandered over and joined the conversation. The voice belonged to David, a 45 year old elementary teacher in Mexico City, and he was going to the very remote Laguna/Lagoon of Miramar. I had done a lot of research about this trip about two years ago, but didn`t think it would be possible to do by myself. The idea now bounced wildly around my brain, and I felt that even though I had no idea what I was doing, and would be cancelling my previous plans, that I would just get my things together and do it. We planned to leave at 8am the next morning.

When we got to the transportation area the following day, we were direcoted to a truck, which is a loose interpretation, because what we found was a cross between a modified horse carriage and a giant grocery crate with wheels. The groceries received first priority, and then women and children, for seats. I sat down on a wooden plank, while the men stood or perched themselves on a metal frame. I wedged my body between a crate of avocados and an indigenous woman and her 3 year old daughter. The young girl threw up as soon as we hit the rougher road, and her mother kept yelling at the dozing men, ¨bag... BAG!¨.

The pavement turned to dirt, and we weaved around the side of mountains, sometimes tipping precariously or slowing to a crawl where the road had fallen off the side of a cliff. I didn`t look.

We dipped into valleys, avoiding all of the livestock that had congregated on the sides. At first the trip seemed wild, savage and romantic. Then it almost seemed boring (after hour 5), and after the 6th hour, I was becoming a little desperate to get off the truck and into the village, any village.

As we passed the tiny hamlets, I realized that no particular stereotype could be made. Some places were so poor that the houses were made of old wooden planks and loosely thatched roofs, with no running water or electricity. Some places announced that they had one public phone. Throughout, many women wore traditional costumes, bright and immaculately clean. I saw that they wore these not for tourism, but for themselves. The final observation? Coca Cola can be found on the most remote parts of earth.

Rambling inside of the truck for 6.5 hours, we got to know a little more about our companions. Most were from Ocosingo and were going to visit family in the jungle town of San Quentin, which David and I called the Metropolis of the Jungle, due to the fact that it had a well formed road.

We arrived to San Quentin and gently lowered our weary bodies from the truck. We walked past a military base and down a long dirt road, until we got to the village of Emilio Zapata (named after the hero). We asked for the President of Tourism, and were directed to the last house on the road. He was there and warmly led us into the village, promising that we were welcome and would love the Laguna Miramar...

Curious George

Sun, 01 Apr 2007 01:31:55 GMT

I am in Chiapas! It´s a good thing I started running again this week, it was enough preparation to RUN to the boarding gate at the airport (Mexicana Airlines has nice planes but horrible service!).

I had a little itirnerary of things to do up to Wednesday, before going to San Cristobal, but this is now going down the drain in order to go on an adventure I had been thinking about for two years, but didn´t see the possibility in. I´ve found an elementary school teacher who is going, and decided to hop on board.

We will leave the town of Ocosingo at 9 in the morning, and get on a truck that will take us 130 kms west, to a lake called Miramar, deep in the jungle of Lacandona. The ride will take about 7 hours because of the roads. When we get there, we will have to ask the village leader for permission to stay there, must guarantee that we will rent a guide, and will hopefully stay with Mayan families as boarders. The lake is pristine, no boats allowed, no pollution, almost no civilization. It´s full of alligators, howler monkeys, and has an island with Mayan ruins that you have to canoe to.

I´ve never been so excited to leave civilization! Updates and photos will follow on Tuesday- if we get permission to stay, and avoid becoming gourmet reptilian food ;)

Links:

http://www.colegiomexsur.edu.mx/rm_lm.html#rm_lm8

http://www.mexicodesconocido.com.mx/english/naturaleza/reservas_biosfera/detalle.cfm?idsec=8&idsub=0&idpag=2122

http://www.planeta.com/planeta/99/0799laguna.html

Goodbye, Easter Bunny

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 04:16:02 GMT

Even though I have just under two months left, I´m already forced to say goodbye to a very special friend, Xempita. Apparently rabbits don´t enjoy plane rides (they can easily have heart attacks) and I am giving her away this week, so that she can adjust to her new home before I leave.

Considering her general lack of personality at the beginning of our relationship, I´m surprised how depressed I´ve gotten over the idea of giving her up, and how much I´m going to miss her. I wrote out a giant guide for her next owner, and realized how much spirit she has- little flips when she´s happy, sleeping with her eyes open, nibbling on my favourite shoes when she´s playful... sigh. I´ve doted a lot of attention on that ball of fur, and can only hope that she will continue to be this spoiled.

Te amo mi gatonejo

What Will They Lock Up Next?

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 04:05:34 GMT

I´m trying to check the final details off of my Chiapas trip list. One of my to-do´s was purchase a small lock, so I headed over to the supermarket.

I had a general idea of where they would be located, and when I arrived to the spot, I saw that the locks were locked behind a glass cupboard. If I wanted to pick up an air rifle, that would not be a problem, I would just go to the sporting goods... but locks are secured?

Other items kept from the reach of the public: toothbrushes, batteries, hair dryers, and Mentos. Yup, the Fresh Maker.

Narcoturism

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 03:50:52 GMT

One of the strangest articles I´ve read here: http://www.mexiconews.com.mx/23938.html

Chicken Swingin´

Sat, 24 Mar 2007 20:50:25 GMT

I live in one of the largest cities in the world, in a nice neighbourhood, across from a University, and my neighbours have started a poultry farm on their roof. I can´t see it, but I hear their rooster make the most woeful crow one can imagine.

Seeing this just makes me reflect on the bizarreness of my life in general. From lunches with powerful politicians, to watching people roll over broken glass in the metro... having my photograph taken numerous times for newspapers and magazines, to meeting drug lords at hockey games... chic nightclubs, to the neighbour´s children swinging a chicken around like a bucket. I don´t have the imagination to create a stranger reality.

The Nevería

Tue, 20 Mar 2007 02:36:29 GMT

After an exhausting day of art exhibitions and a foreign film, a friend and I stopped into a nevería (ice cream shop) off of Insurgentes, to recharge.

The shop was a hole in the wall, but you could tell it was good because it was full of locals. The dog-eared menu also told customers that it´s been in business since 1921. There was an aged picture of the shop hanging regally on the wall, along with faded posters of Paris, and strange modern pieces.

The place reminded me of my grandfather´s old barber shop for some reason, I think it was the colours and the time period, that fact that neither place ever changed. The shop so nostalgic that I had to take a photo, an image that I haven´t been able to stop reflecting upon.

Mayan Dreams Squashed

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 04:00:22 GMT

It looks like the Central America version of my Mayan Dreams trip is just not meant to be. Some of it is my fault for not planning sooner, but I had to know that I would have enough money to do it.

It turns out that my passport is expiring at the end of the month, just before I planned to go. No problem I thought, the Embassy gets them back really fast here... but no. Turns out there´s a backlog.

I went to try begging at the Embassy in person anyway, taking the morning off of work and sitting in traffic. When I got there, it was closed. I had called about visiting, they said nothing. I had looked at the website before I left, no notice. When I arrived, however, it was full of guards having a chat at the front, and they told me it was closed because of the ¨manifesto¨. I had no idea what that was, but I think it had something to do with Bush visiting the country.

I realized that with my passport being processed, I might not be able to get on any planes for the holiday (my license has expired as well, I only have my Mexican ID). I decided to talk to the airline to find out, using their chat system. The short version of the conversation went like this:

Me: Explaining the situation.

Michelle (painfully slow customer service rep): You need your passport to leave the country.

Me: But did you see that I only want to go to Chiapas? Inside of Mexico.

Michelle: Ok, use the passport.

Me: But I won´t HAVE the passport, only my FM3.

Michelle: Procede with the document.

Me: ?

Me: Which document?

Michelle: You choose the document.

Me: Do you understand that I only have an FM3 to travel? Within Mexico? Can I use only it or not? (By now I switched to Spanish, explaining everything again).

Michelle: Yes, use your FM3, you don´t need your passport to travel within Mexico (which I already knew).

So after 45 minutes to just get that answer, I was asked to fill out a questionaire, which gave Company X a bad report. However, I couldn´t even send the questionaire because it kept saying I needed to fill out information that I had already given...

I didn´t even get upset. It´s was just one of those days.

(Update: I have my tickets to Chiapas and after booking my hotels tonight, I´ll find tours there and leave the rest to fate).

The Booty Shakin´Bridal Shower

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 03:45:45 GMT

I couldn´t decide what to wear- something simple and practical, or something with colour? Something sleeveless for the hot weather, or something long-sleeved, since I knew it would cool down in an hour. Why was my brain behaving like this, when I was already running late?

I rushed to my friend Gaby´s, hoping that somebody I knew would be there. I held the buzzer, and a middle-aged woman came to open the door for me, introducing herself as Gaby´s mom. As I walked through the hallway, the sounds of cheering women and pounding music got louder. As I entered the living room, a circle of ladies were standing and clapping, while in the middle, a toothless old woman was gyrating her body like a teenager. She was wearing a tight, shiny, purple body suit like a 1980´s pop star, and she danced like she was having the time of her life. Welcome to a Mexican bridal shower.

I had expected polite, uncomfortable conversation over crust-less sandwiches, but at this party I danced all evening.

They had a lot of games involving props. For example, they passed balloons around the room, and when the music stopped, the woman with the balloon had to get up and put on a costume. At the end, the woman and her ¨back-up dancers¨ had to have a competition to see who could lip synch the best. There was a master of ceremonies, microphones, synchronized songs... one of the games involved a poll in the middle of the room, where the women had to strip off the silly lingerie costumes they had put on! It was so organized and choreographed, I thought, who in the world has friends with the time to put something like this together? You would have to hire somebody! And that´s just what Gaby´s mom had done.

It was one of the funniest evenings that I´ve had in a long time, and I would love to get into this business in Canada, but wonder how we would ever get Canadian women to shake their booties like that. It would take more than new sandwiches, it would probably take a cultural revolution. Something to work on.

Mayan Dreams

Sun, 11 Mar 2007 02:31:16 GMT

I have a week off of work during La Semana Santa (Easter Week). The idea was go and meet an old Auzzie friend in Guatemala... but he has changed his plans and will come to Mexico in May. I was really dissapointed with the idea that this dream sitting in the back of my head wouldn´t be happening. And then I thought, why not just do it myself? I had been planning to travel to Central America when I felt comfortable enough with my Spanish to get myself out of ridiculous situations, and I´ve already proven that ability on numerous occasions.

And so the plan is turning into reality. I´ll probably finalize it on Monday once I finish researching and booking hotels.

I´ll fly from Mexico City to Chetumal and catch a bus to Belize City. Over the past couple of years, Mexico has opened up its skies to some low-cost air carriers, and it´s cheaper to take a 1.5 hour flight than it is to take a bus for 24 hours.

I had a hard time deciding if I should stay on the coast of Belize (gorgeous Caribbean water!) but I am itching for the jungle... so I´ll go straight to a place named San Ignacio, where I will join tours to visit Mayan ruins, see an underground Mayan cave that was only discovered 3 years ago, go on zip lines across the jungle canpoy, visit a baboon sanctuary and take horseback expiditions.

After Belize, it will be off to Guatemala and the spectacular Mayan ruins named Tikal. From Tikal, to the laid-back island of Flores where I can do some canoeing and snorkeling. From there the plans get a little hazy, because I want a nice city to pick up a tour, but within a reasonable distance, since it will be Good Friday, apparently the most wonderful and celebrated day in Guatemala, but also the busiest for traffic. I think the most ideal will be a smaller Mayan village with deep rooted traditions and Guatemalan tourists rather than foreigners. The only other goal is to ride on at least one form of transportation with lifestock in the aisles (the infamous chicken bus).

Finally, I´ll bus it from Guatemala City directly to Tapachula in Mexico, and fly home.

I´m the kind of person who would like to plan everything obsessively down to the last detail, but to do that in this corner of the world would be a recipe for disaster and dissappointment. As long as I tour with others, use my Mexico City sensibilities and sense of time, I think this will be the trip of a lifetime.

Parenting 101

Sun, 11 Mar 2007 01:51:18 GMT

My friends Mike and Liliana are expecting their first baby (a boy they will name Emilio) in three weeks. To help the young couple get started, my department at work decided to throw them a baby shower.

At the fiesta, it was revealed that Mike has never changed a diaper before. To prepare him for his upcoming duties, our secretary brought out her daughter´s doll- one that talks, blinks, eats, and well... you know. Mike learned to feed the tot some watered down salsa, and then recieved step-by-step instructions on how to change it.

Now that professor M has completed his lessons, baby Emilio can feel free to arrive any time!

Following the Via Lactea

Sun, 04 Mar 2007 04:32:05 GMT

My decision to return North in a couple of months has completely changed the dynamics of my life, and I've found myself taking a closer look at everything around me, energetically, but also nostalgically.

I went to the zoo and art galleries today, trying to rediscover the city with my fresh eyes. It was a sensory overload, and I though, how can I have a four year degree in fine art and not be recording this properly? The tipsy toddlers wobbling infront of my feet? The smell of peanuts roasting in sugar? The sound of the giggles coming from the river... the sun burning new freckles into my skin? I decided then and there that my new resolution is to take at least one good photograph a day, a photo that tries to catch the energy that floats around me.

When it was time to head home, I strolled towards Reforma Avenue and scanned the busses passing by. I tried to find one that was going fast, because if they aren't traveling at a speed that makes me clutch the bars on the seat, I feel like I'm never going to get back. Tonight, I waited for a bus that was going slow, so that I could daydream and take in the scenery. Yes, traffic has become romantic. The bus glided and the spiky-haired driver soflty nodded his head to the polka music he had playing on the radio. It was just our bus and a thousand other vehicles, slipping in and out of lanes, forming a wave of red and white lights in the twilight. The only way I can explain the feeling was like watching a movie of my life.

When I stepped off the micro I was listening to a song called Via Lactea (Milky Way). Suddenly, I felt the urge to look up at the sky. The stars punched out of the darkness, and a full moon illuminated my path. When you can't adequately explain how you feel, blame it on the moon.

Colin, you're a kickin' Canadian!

Fri, 02 Mar 2007 04:16:57 GMT

During my family and I's regular chat on Tuesday, my dad said,

"I bet you're going to find things are very different when you get home", and of course that's stuck with me, because I know it's true. The reverse culture shock idea excites me and troubles me.

Today I was working hard in my office, and barely noticed a rapping on the door. I finally glanced up and saw a woman holding a package for me, saying it had arrived from home. I felt like I had won a prize! It was a package from Colin, with a Lonely Planet guide to Canada and 4 CDs with Canadian music, so that I would remember what I have to look forward to when I return.

Of course I thanked him, but I'll do it again a few more times. It's always nice to have a kickin' patriot to keep one grounded. Besides, who has a Lonely Planet guide to their own country?

Random Acts of Kindness

Sun, 25 Feb 2007 21:40:23 GMT

One of my favourite newspaper articles is a weekly collection of stories called Random Acts of Kindess, published by the Toronto Star (http://www.thestar.com/ActsKindness/article/124892). In a world that likes to deliver us the worst, most sensationalized reports, this page always warms my heart.

Hundreds of people read this blog a week, but I hear very few of your own stories. I am wondering, what random acts of kindness have you found in Mexico? Or in any country for that matter? Please post under comments.

One of my most memorable was when I was volunteering with Habitat for Humanity, and a single mother who was pulling everything together for her family, made my group and I a simple but delicious lunch to show her appreciation for the help. I've always wondered how the house came along in the end.

Corazon, I'm twenty-seven

Sun, 25 Feb 2007 21:29:54 GMT

Last week, the guys of the IHOM told me that the Peruvian was going to celebrate his birthday on Friday, and that I should invite my friends and join the first official party of the house. They're young, but I really like the guys, so I said sure, and invited about ten of my friends.

The party started early, which was a little weird, but I chilled and waited for my friends before joining the group. It was light, the air was delicious, and our front yard was full of South Americans dancing in in ways that would make me look like an elephant. Two guys came to talk to me in particular, and after about half an hour of talking to a Peruvian, he asked me to marry him. Smiling sweetly, I asked him how old he was.

"Nineteen!" he proclaimed.

"Corazon, I'm twenty-seven".

Not to be disuaded, he said that I could get European citizenship with the deal, as he's also Italian. That sweetened the offer a bit, but alas, I decided to stay single.

It didn't take long until these beautiful dancing foreigners were swaying around, then falling down, and then drooling on the couches and the floor. My friends and I looked at each other and shrugged, kids. I don't think any of us realized how much we've grown up until the moment that we saw a party end at two in the morning due to over-drinking.

I have to give the guys credit though, the next day the house and yard were spotless.

Today I realized that it would be inevitable to do some work. I was bothered by this because I work so hard during the week, and then I had an idea. I got into my bikini, made a pina coloda, got out a beach blanket, and set up my paradise on the concrete roof/patio. This conservative neighbourhood is not Acapulco, and had someone seen me they probably would have been mortified. However, I feel like I got a mini-vacation while completing some boring paper work. I haven't missed the snow once.

Russian

Wed, 21 Feb 2007 03:04:19 GMT

The idea of identity and how we make judgements about others is something that I think about a lot. I find it weird that people will come up to me and suggest where they think I'm from, but I find myself staring at foreigners too, wondering the same thing.

With the simple addition of highlights to my hair last October, my whole identity changed. On a weekly basis, I hear,

"Are you from Switzerland? No? I was sure you were..."

"You must be German! Swedish? Um, Finish?"

"Your Canadian? Really? I thought maybe Swedish... definately European..."

I think some of this change in perception also comes with my accent. I pronounce my r's without the usual Anglo problems, in fact, I seem to be over pronouncing them- so much that my friends in Acapulco called me the Russian!

I laughed off the nicname until this morning, when my pilates instructor asked me where I was from. When I said Canada she stared at me, almost disapointed...

"Oh, I thought you were from Russia".

Sunshine and Umbrellas

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 23:54:08 GMT

The sun is bursting from the cloudless sky, and I'm going about my business in a tank top and jean skirt.

As I look outside my window, I see that others are taking advantage of the gorgeous weather as well. There is a student stepping around a stray dog, and a shriveled old woman walking arm in arm with her neighbour. The old woman, with a long gray braid and printed clothing that doesn't match, is also holding an umbrella. This isn't the first time I've seen someone on a flawless day using an umbrella, you could almost say that it's common.

In a country where social class is related to colour, some people like to avoid the sun all together, lest they be mistaken for a labourer. Others take it to a more extreme level, by buying one of the "skin lighteners" advertised on the billboards and in the supermarket.

I, on the other hand, am embarrassed to be the most chicken white person at the beach, and apply sunless tanner to my legs when I wear a skirt. I think that darker skin is beautiful, especially since I always seem to burn and then turn into Casper again. For many caucasian Canadians, darkening your skin is a sign of health and even status, if it shows that you went on vacation.

The whole situation strikes me as a little sad, and it just goes to show that we usually want what we don't have.