... Ahem.

Poetry

poetry
is like
a feeling
you
can't express
because
you
're too much of a
prick

to write in
prose



... Thank you.

Salsa + Ketchup + Mustard

Please tell me I'm not the only one who is tired of this chipotle trend.

Mis abuelos, circa the 1950's.

This is where I go to school. You are jealous.

Does this work?

Isabel and Me

Yep.

Mich.Mex

Just thought I´d do a little update, as I haven´t written anything since Il Peccato, I guess. Things are just fine here. We´ve visited Sta. Clara, Patzcuaro, Janitzio, and Guanajuato since I last wrote. I have lots of pictures and I intend to put some up as soon as I have some clever captions and stuff.
Things are going well at the Casa Hogar. The kids are great, even if it is hard to get them to clean or study. I don´t have pictures of them. I figure I´ll do it on the last day.
I´m about to leave for Tzintzuntzan and Quiroga, so I´ll try to update more once I get back.

The Mexican Way

Adriana called at about 9:30 and invited Victoria and me out to a little bar close to her house. I thought why not, and I got ready to go. I had no idea what I was getting into.
First off, nothing bad happened. It was just… interesting. Victoria and I took a taxi there, and we found the place completely full, with Karen and Adriana nowhere to be found. Victoria and I left for a moment just to walk around and maybe find them, but we eventually just walked back in and found them.
I was very nervous. I’m not a drinker, mostly because in the US, I can’t. But I really didn’t have a reason not to. So, I ordered a Cerveza Victoria, while the three others ordered Tequilas. I was feeling pretty calm at that point, until the waiter came back to ask what kind of tequila they wanted. It was really loud in the bar, making Spanish comprehension very difficult for the girls. In the confusion, they ended up ordering an entire bottle of tequila. That got my order canceled, leaving me to enter the world of alcohol with tequila. I got really nervous again. When Adriana found out that I’ve never really had anything, she felt bad but joke that I’m being introduced the true Mexican way.
I soon found out what the true Mexican way really is, and let me tell you, it doesn’t have much to do with drinking. Out of the blue, a guy appears between Adriana and Victoria and asks us in mildly broken English where we are from. Then, as if my magic, four more appear around us, and the pursuit began. They were like sharks, circling around the girls. They were all very distinct people:

• Leader: Wearing glasses and dressed a little better than the others, Leader was the one who first spoke and asked us who we were. He was clearly the smoothest, but he had the habit of leaning on the shoulders of two people around him. It was odd, and uncomfortable for those who were his supporters.
• Hat Guy: Wearing, obviously, a hat, Hat Guy had to be 15 years older than any of the others. He was old enough to be Karen’s father, which was disturbing considering the amount he hit on her.
• Lizard: Lizard was mostly quiet at first, but he had strategically positioned himself next to Adriana, and she soon had his full attention, and he hers for the night. He was clearly interested in her. She…. not so much. His name is Lizard because of his vague resemblance to one.
• Luis: The only one whose name I caught, his nickname is High Five. Imagine what he did. Yes, he high-fived each of us at least once, and several times instigated a “Salud” drink clinking.
• Last, but not least, is WIIILD: WIIILD is so named because he said certain words loudly and slowly, particularly wild. For the first half, WIIILD stood in the background, clearly shafted by his buddies. He came in full force, though, telling us to get WIIILD. What happens in Il Peccato, he says, stays in Il Peccato. He was an alcohol commercial, if alcohol commercials were a bit more obvious and a lot more off-putting.

It was interesting to see how they operated. They really did circle like sharks. One appeared, and the rest swarmed quickly. They made sure to talk to Victoria, who was identified at the friend who will quickly cock-block. They took shifts between Karen and Victoria, to hit on Karen, and then to appease Victoria. Lizard was on his own with Adriana. They even talked to me, to make sure I didn’t get mad, I suppose. They offered a few times to find me a girl. In the end, Lizard gave Adriana his phone number, but on our way home, we just laughed at how ridiculous they were. I guess that’s how it’s done, though.
As for the tequila, it didn’t do much. I didn’t feel much at all. It’s probably because I’m still rather scared of alcohol, even more when it’s tequila. So I didn’t have much. Nothing really happened to me, which is a good thing. I still don’t see what the deal is. It doesn’t really taste very good.
Victoria and I took a taxi home, and I waited outside my house and watched to make sure she got in okay. It turns out she was locked out of her gate. I offered to help her up to jump over, but we didn’t make it. We tried keys in the lock, but they didn’t work. Right before she gave up and used the doorbell, I reached over and opened the gate. It was unlocked.
Yeah, lack of common sense. That’s exactly what I want when I go out.

A New Friend

My second day at Casa Hogar was a little different from my first. I arrived much earlier than last time, going straight to the Casa Hogar without going to the school. The kids were sitting in the dining room, with the asst. director telling them the wonders of Christ (the Casa Hogar is Baptist Evangelical, something rare in what is basically a Catholic nation). Right after they were let go, Javier, Raul, and Omar came up to me. I tell you, they attach so quickly. I got them to do the walkways much slower this time. I had to help Adrian step by step in mopping one walkway. I met a few more boys, Juan Luis, maybe 3 or 4, and Edgar, who could not be more than 2 years old. I sat with the kids as they ate breakfast. I sat between Omar and Raul, who were competing to see who would finish first, but they were so distracted that the girls beat them both. Sulivan, who was sitting on the other side of Omar, kept grabbing my arm and holding it against his face.
After oatmeal, Julio passed out cups of orange juice. Juan Luis was at the end of the other table, and they ran out just before him. He started crying, and I felt really bad for him. Later, though, I think I saw him with what used to be Julio’s glass of juice. Good kid, that Julio.
I made a new friend today in Isabel, 4. She’s just about the most adorable a kid can get, and she has attached herself to me fully. Javier and I played tag, and I contracted Isabel to help me by sending her to ask him to carry her. It worked a lot; he’d forget we were playing and I’d catch him. I played lots of games with Isabel. I swung her around, and picked her up so she could fly like an airplane. Since Adriana and I don’t have watches, we ended up staying late 20 minutes. I told Isabel I had to go, and she just started bawling. I’m not entirely it was because of me, but I think it was. Augh. I feel so needed. It’s going to be so hard to leave at the end of the month.

Johnny B. Bad

The rest of the day was nice. We had our first culture class, about the first indigenous peoples of Mexico, and a bit of Morelian history. I came home for lunch of some excellent chicken enchiladas and then took a siesta. We went back to the university for arts class, in which we made candles. I could hardly stand the class. We all stood around the kitchen counter and watched the teacher show us different methods of candle-making. A lot of the methods it was clear to me that she was just telling us about so that could know. All the girls wanted to try them, though. They drove me crazy, especially Victoria, who wanted to try the strangest stuff, like fill her water bottle with wax to make a octagonal candle, despite the fact that the wax would warp the bottle and just make a huge mess. I just wanted to pour the wax and get out of there, but it took ages.
After class, we walked back home, making it the fourth trip of the day. These are 35-40 minute walks each, in the Mexican sun. It’s a little tiring, but fun at the same time. We see some strange stuff, like this advertisement for Skyy Vodka:



Dear John Leguizamo,
What are you doing? You need to stop that. There’s no need to prostrate yourself to the point of cheesy Mexican advertisements just because no one has seen you in anything since Moulin Rouge. America still loves you! You will always be our Luigi. Please stop hocking yourself to get in Mexico’s good graces. Besides, that’s not the way to do it. You have to put on a mask and wrestle. Duh.

Casa Hogar el Buen Pastor

I successfully managed to get myself out of Rosie’s class, and today was my first day with the kids. It’s not an elementary school like I thought. It’s more like… an orphanage. But it’s not for orphans, per se. Some are, but most are children of single mothers or prisoners. Anyway, Adriana and I went to the Casa Hogar (as it’s called) and we were each put in charge of a group of kids. I had the boys, and she had the girls. The first task of the day was to sweep and mop the walkways. You would not believe how hard it was to get them to do it. When you are 8 years old and you live with 35 friends, it’s easy to be distracted. The best I could do was give two boys brooms and set them at opposite ends of the walkways. Whoever reached the middle first won.
It was amazing how quickly they attached themselves to us. Within 10 minutes of being there, a tiny four-year-old came up behind me and gave me a big hug around my legs. I don’t think I’d even seen her yet. I said “Hi” to her, but she went off. For a moment, I wasn’t even sure which one she was.
One of my boys, Sulivan, immediately took a shine to me. There’s something different about this kid. There is something a little bit wrong with his right hand and leg, and he runs in sort of a half-skip because of it. I also think because of it, he doesn’t really get to participate in the cleaning and such, so naturally he’s the only one who wants to. He grabbed my hand a lot, and he walked around with me. They need adults. Parents.
After cleaning, we played soccer in the back patio. I was the goalie, which was not hard because I was half the size of the goal. I’m beginning to see some personalities. Sergio, 8-ish, is pretty competitive and sporty. He likes to win. Julio, 11-ish, is becoming something of an authority figure, and a good influence on the kids, I think. Javier, 10-ish, is Julio’s good friend and right-hand man, it seems. Raul and Omar, 8 and 7, I guess, want to be where the action is, whatever it is. Adrian, 8-ish, did not play soccer with us. He sat on the sides and played with some wood and rocks. He’s good at getting out of work, but a good kid overall. Rafa, about 14, I think, broods. He seems a little resentful of life in Casa Hogar. He wants/needs more. I want to see what’s going on there.
When I first got there, I almost immediately wanted to leave. I didn’t (and still don’t) know what I’m doing, but I feel needed, even if I’m just playing around and making jokes with them.
Plus, I still get credit for it. Three credits for loving and being loved? All right.

In the Island of Jamaica, Everybody Loves Bananas

The bad news is that my alarm clock is very unreliable. The good news is, the birds chirping in the morning hopefully are. I woke up to their nose instead of the noise from my clock. I ate a delicious breakfast of what I think was mushroom omelet. Victoria showed up with her “brother” Diego. On the ride to school, Diego informed us that he loves beer, and tequila, and discotecas, and the women in Guadalajara. Apparently, because at 23, he has a 6-year-old.
At school, we were divided into our grammar classes, and to tell you the truth, I was not so impressed. Our teacher, Rosie, is an all-right woman, but she didn’t get us very excited about the class. I couldn’t stop looking at the lipstick stain on her front teeth. She gave us a grammar test, which I pretty much aced (it was my saving grace that they didn’t have the dative case on it, or I would have been sunk). We then talked a bit about Mexican culture, of which I’m at least halfway familiar already. Hopefully the plan to go and help at the local elementary school will pan out, and I’ll avoid the class entirely. Instead of culture class, we did a little tour of Morelia, looking at the post office, a few stores, and another governor’s palace, this one of the state of Michoacán. It was covered with murals of the regions and history of the state, and it was pretty interesting. After class, we came back home on the combis, huge VW hippie vans that act as a miniature bus system in the city. We had our lunch of cream of cauliflower soup and chicken in a jamaica (jicama in English, I think) sauce. I know it probably sounds lame for me to talk about what I had to eat, but you have to understand that everything here is so good that it’s worth mentioning. I met Elisa, a student from Uruapán who studies in Morelia and lives with the Garcia family. After lunch, Victoria and I walked all the way back to the school for orientation, and then the whole group went out to eat paletas at the local Michoacana. And by local, I mean the one 2 minutes’ walk from the school, because there are about 5 “local” Michoacanas anywhere you step in Mexico. Afterwards, we headed back to where I lived to find some stores. I needed pants because I forgot to pack half of what I had set out before leaving. We found out that we didn’t live to far away from one another after all, which is great because it’ll be easier for us to hang out now.

I came back to the house and had dinner (French bread pizza, but a thousand times better than any French bread pizza you could ever imagine) and I uploaded my photos, now making it possible for me to update my blog in any way I please.

La Familia Garcia

Well, I just met my host family, and they’re totally awesome. I was really nervous about meeting them. We arrived in Morelia and went to the university, where a family member from each home was waiting to take us to their homes. Some of the ladies didn’t look too nice. As the housing director called out names, the cool people were quickly being taken. Crap, he looked like a cool dad, but he’s Adriana’s. Damn, that lady standing behind me looked sweet, but she’s Gillian’s. Oh shit, that lady is giving me a mean look. I hope it’s not her. There were three homes left to give out, but I only saw two hosts – mean look lady, and a really young woman who I wasn’t sure was even a host. I was second to last, and I was much relieved that the girl before me got mean look lady. I was set up with a kindly old man I didn’t even know was a host. Sr. García is a Spanish teacher in Morelia, but I get the feeling that he teaches foreigners, because he knew what mistakes Americans made in Spanish pronunciation. It’s a great match for me. He’s already corrected me twice, which is great. I totally forgot to ask them to correct me, so I’m glad I have someone who will. Sra. Hernandez is just the sweetest lady ever. The two are rather meticulous about stuff. Sr. García showed me how to turn on the lights in my room and the bathroom (by gasp flipping the switch). He also showed me how to lock the door (by pushing the button on the door, like most doors anywhere), and how pull the curtains (by pulling the curtains). They’re so cool.
They have at least one daughter, Sandra, who is married to Juan José, or Juanjo. They don’t live in the house. There may or may not be the two 21-year-olds, Carolina and Elisa, living in the house. I’m not totally sure.
The house itself is just great. It’s really open. The bottom floor sort of opens up to the top floor in a way, and there are windows and open areas into other rooms everywhere. It’s nice. My room is really neat, too. It has a slanted ceiling and a really big window. The best part is the arrangement of flowers made out of paper. They look so real.



This is going to be a good trip

(Con)fusion de Dos Culturas

Last hours in Guadalajara. We woke up early to take a tour of the city with our new friends from Morelia, Sica and Cristian. They basically led us around the route I took around the plazas. I thought it was strange for them to be our guides, as they weren’t Guadalajaran either. They took us down to one of the buildings I saw at the end of the plazas, but instead of taking us through, they brought us to the side, into the market. At first, I wasn’t too impressed – just a few stores, half of them shoe stores (Mexico seems to have a disproportionate amount of three kinds of stores: zapaterías [shoe stores], tiendas de novia [bridalwear], and corseterías [skank-ho lingerie stores].). We walked past a few of the stores and came upon a decent-sized plaza in the middle of the very large building. It was then that I realized that we had walked straight to the plaza without stopping, and there were hundreds of stores all around the plaza. What’s more, there were several levels of the building, making the entire store count go into the thousands (Adriana later asked and was told there were probably about 3000 total). They sold just about everything: jewelry, leather goods, shoes, dolls, backpacks, candy, shoes, aguas, and even birds. There were lots of parakeets and maybe some parrots, but hands down the most interesting bird had to be a chicken-sized pigeon in a cage.



After the market, we went back to the building and finally went inside. It was originally a church or an orphanage or something, but now it’s a museum. We only went into the first part of the building, but it was amazing. All over the walls and ceiling of the first room were murals painted by José Clemente Orozco, detailing the history of Mexico. It showed the Aztecs, the “discovery” of America, the conversion of the natives, and the revolution. Our guide was really thorough and showed us things that I never would have gotten myself. He explained that the ceilings are domes, and the murals look different from different angles. He also said some insightful things about Mexican history. In a painting of the government palace (where the protest was), the guide showed us elements of Spanish and native culture mixed in the painting, but he said that Mexico is not the fusion of two cultures; it’s the confusion of two cultures. He also said that what Mexico needs now is evolution, not revolution. Mexico’s had enough of those.

Overall, I really like Guadalajara, but I’m excited to meet my host family. Now who’s up for a four-hour bus drive! Me!

Que Vive La Paz!

Day one complete of a trip that is shaping itself to be absolutely mind-blowing. This afternoon, after writing the first chapter of my Morelia blog, I decided I’d actually do something worth writing about so I headed out with my camera to see what I could see. First of all, I’m about one block away from a huge cathedral, and all around this cathedral are monstrous plazas and all around these plazas are amazing statues. It’s all just too wonderful.



After a nice stroll down the plazas and markets, I came back to the room, and the girls and I went out to the pool. We met up with the rest of the group. It’s seven girls, me, the professor, and the professor’s 20-year-old son, who may or may not go to William and Mary. I’m not sure. We prepared for dinner, but before going, I stepped out to the plazas again because there was a protest going on at the governor’s palace. Riot police stood around the palace at 5-foot intervals and a crowd gathered in front waving anarchy flags (a bit oxymoronic, maybe?) and chanting “Que vive la paz!” It was all very exciting, but the policemen looked very bored.



We went to La Chata for dinner, the restaurant our taxi driver had recommended. It was nice, but the best part was when Prof. Longo said that Adriana would be helping out at a local school. I jumped on the opportunity and she said I could do it too. Sweet!
After dinner a lot of the girls were set to go clubbing. We passed SEXYS Bar and clubs with “Concursos de playeras mojadas!” and I began to think this was not a good idea, but I went along with it anyway. We came back to the hotel to change and meet an hour later, but thankfully everyone conked out. I was relieved to leave the day labeled “exciting” and not “overwhelming.” Maybe next time.

Eighth World Wonder

I’ve lost all sense of time, which is hard to deal with when you don’t wear a watch. What with staying up all night to arrive in Greensboro at 4:30, looking for lunch in Atlanta at 7:00, and finding myself several hours later in Guadalajara, I don’t know if this really counts as Saturday. It should be counted as a whole extra day, like Saturday pt 2, or Funday (shout-out to Quailman!).
I’ve already seen some neat things here – flying over Mexico, I saw these beautiful canyons outside of the city. It was amazing to see a tiny river carve immense walls of elephant-skin rock.

Oh, and I saw in the bathroom at the Guadalajara airport that the toilet paper dispenser was the brand Kimberly Clark, just like the American Idol girl. Hands down way more interesting than any canyon. I wish I’d had my camera then.

El Comienzo

My initial thought was to begin with lyrics to "Leavin' On a Jet Plane" but then I realized that my readers deserve more than such a trite opening.

Now I realize that complaining about my own banality is not much better.

Anyhoo, in a few hours, I leave for my first summer abroad trip to Morelia. It is about damn time, too, because I've just about had it with Roanoke. Don't get me wrong, I love it, but I also hate it. While part of it is nice (family), part of it is not (most friends). There is only so much I can handle of old friends before we're just waiting to tell about our own lives. As I told a friend, I've already gone through them, and it's time for something different.
What makes Roanoke that much harder to bear is simply the fact that there is nothing for me here. I used to have goals, purpose here, in high school. In Williamsburg, I again have things to do. Now, though, I don't have anything. I'm just sitting at home waiting for something to happen. It's been making me terribly anxious. I just can't take doing nothing for extended periods of time.

Well, I finally will not have to deal with this anymore, because I am on my way.

So long, fools.

Slubley Plervlert

When I take pictures now, I try my hardest not to look Asian. It's a real challenge for me. I open my eyes really wide in hopes that my smile will balance it out. Now, I look surprised in every photo. Surprised and Asian.

A Wikiwiki Mai Lohilohi

When it comes to vacation spots, I've never understood the tropical resort option. Lounging on the beach with a drink in one hand and bronzer in the other has never sounded exciting to me. I've always preferred the idea of a winter tour of Europe, cities full of people, good food, and lots of adventure. However, I've made a decision - I'd very much like to go to Hawaii.
Not for the lounging-drink aspect, but for the culture. Today I downloaded a song called "Love Song of Kalua" that I first heard at Jeri's beledi performance and only just now was able to find, and it's my new favorite song. Hawaiian music just seems to suggest a certain characteristic of Hawaiian culture that makes it really interesting. I want to learn about hulas and surfing and Hawaiian mythology and anything else Hawaiian. Heck, I want to learn Hawaiian. That would be amazing.
It could be a phase. Maybe I just really like the song. But maybe it's not. Maybe I'll just have to go to Hawaii and see. Either way, I'll need something to tide me over. Lilo and Stitch is looking mighty nice right about now.