Settling Accounts

Today, I paid my first electric bill in Mexico.
They only bill you every TWO months, so I was a bit worried as to potential costs.
My landlady is always complaining about how expensive it is.

The bill came to 128 pesos, or $9.95 FOR TWO MONTHS!!!!!!

To put that in perspective, back in Phoenix, in July, at summer's peak, I would pay $300 or so per month for my little townhouse. Of course there everyone runs airconditioning 24/7. With temperatures around 110F degrees, you want to do that.

Here in Oaxaca, you not only do not run the A/C, you don't even HAVE airconditioning in your home. Or heating. Which saves a ton of money. Cooking is done with gas. So I'm using electric power only for lights, a little TV, and a bedroom fan. 5 bucks a month is a bill I can definitely get used to.

Coming Unglued

As the Great American Philosopher Ron White (OK, he's a comedian) once said: "You can't fix stupid."

Here's what I did this morning. It's all true--

Yesterday, I went out to the pest control shop to find something to kill the flying buggies I've got in the house. They aren't houseflies, aren't mosquitoes, but some sort of little winged gnat. The pest control people wanted to sell me... pesticides--duh. I told them I didn't want to do that because (A) they're bad for the environment (B) they're toxic and (C) I might die. The white powder stuff was labeled "mildly toxic," whatever that means. It's like "mildly pregnant," I think.

So I tried to explain in broken Spanish that I wanted the long sticky strips you hang up from the ceiling and flies, attracted to the smell, stick to it (flypaper). Try explaining that one in Spanish! Anyway, I finally got through to them what I wanted. "Oh, yes...we have exactly what you're looking for." Sure enough, it was flypaper. Four small cylinders. You break off the top and pull. Out comes a 3-foot long spiraled piece of the stickiest stuff since road tar. "Perfect!" I thought, "that should kill the little bastards!"

So I went home and immediately hung up a strip in the bathroom, as that's where I find most of the critters--in the shower. I cleverly wired up a coat hanger and hung it over the shower head. "Tomorrow morning," I said to myself, "I'll have dozens of 'em who've all met their buggie sweet hereafters."

So, cut to this morning. Early. Before coffee. I get out of bed, get undressed, and stumble naked into the bathroom for a shower. Oops! I forgot the flypaper. Hadn't trapped a one of 'em. Bummer. Of course needed to get rid of the flypaper before the shower. So I c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y removed the coat hanger dealie with the length of flypaper hanging off the end and proceeded cautiously to the plastic-lined wastebasket in the kitchen, holding the long strip in front of me with both hands.

The problem came in when I rounded the corner into the kitchen and....(yep, you're one step ahead of me here)...the flypaper swung back onto me, trapping my own unprotected Naughty Bits. At this point I said a bad word, and then started laughing hysterically.

Only I could do something so STUPID! I'm not going to tell you how I unstuck myself. Needless to say, it was painful. And embarrassing. I threw away the remaining tubes of flypaper. I can't be trusted.

The "Gringo Tax"

During my travels, I'd heard about the Gringo Tax from many ex-pats all over Mexico. Yesterday, I got a taste of it. At least it was an example of it that I could document. Here's what happened:

I was looking for a fan (non-electric variety), something I could take to my summer classes. There is no airconditioning in the classrooms (or most anywhere else in Oaxaca, for that matter). The Casa de Cultura is a former convent, built around 2 open courtyards, two stories high, a balconies on the second level looking down onto the courtyards. On the balconies, it's cool. There is usually a nice breeze. The problem in the classrooms is that the instructors keep the doors and windows shut tight. The music teacher (downstairs), because she wants to keep out noise from the hallway. The art teacher upstairs, because we have a nude model. With a dozen or so student bodies inside, it keeps plenty warm.

So, walking down the street, I stuck my head into a little shop "Miscelena." Mexican towns are loaded with tiny little stores like this. Often they're just one room at the front of someone's house, a room that opens onto the sidewalk. The proprietor is behind the counter. I asked this lady, "Do you have fans?" "We sure do, let me show you what I've got." She opened the glass display case to bring out here stock. A note here: almost nowhere do you find self-service retail. I guess they assume shoplifters would go wild. So what you get is the old general-store technique: you have to ask the clerk for even the smallest item to be shown to you.

She had two types of fan. I could see on the exterior of the box, the price was marked, "9 pesos." I said, "That will work fine. What's the price?" She smiled broadly, "15 pesos." For those of you bad at math, that's a 6 peso difference. What I call the "Gringo Tax." Now, 6 pesos isn't very much at all (42 cents US). But it was close to double her stated price. Do they assume all Americas are "stupid gringos"? That we don't care about money? That we actually prefer to pay a higher price than locals do?

For whatever the reason, this goes on in most purchases, apart from those in big chain stores. In this case, I stared at the woman, right in the eye, and said, "I'll pay 10 pesos." She laughed and said, "Fine." As you can see, the Gringo Tax isn't fixed. It's a weird kind of attitude that says, "Let me see how much I can get away with. If I can cheat you a little, I will. But if not, that's OK, too. But I've got to try, or lose face."

Ni modo.

Never a Dull Moment

But that's my own damn fault. I need to sit down and have a little conversation with myself: "Rod, you're retired now. Chill." But I continue to make myself busy. For example:

Last night, 2 summer classes at Casa de la Cultura, from 5-8 p.m. This morning, got up early, skipped breakfast and went to the medical laboratory for some blood work ordered by my doc....my semiannual cholesterol screen. Understand I don't much like to have my blood drawn. I call the folks who do it "vampires." Maybe because I once fainted while having it done. But they were nice today. I only waited about 5 minutes. The whole thing took maybe 10 minutes, and I was done. Then I stopped at a sandwich joint on the way home because I was ravenous, not having eaten before the cholesterol test.

I came back home, worked on the computer, and went back out at 10:45 to head up to the gringo library. Every morning at 11, I've got students I'm tutoring. Now it's 2. I've created a monster. If someone expresses the desire to learn English, I feel it's my duty as a former ESL instructor to teach them. Plus, it's fun. They help me with Spanish, I give them some practice in English. After our hour and a half, I spent some time chatting with my new buddies who hang out daily at the library. Two hundred years ago that would have been called a "salon." Interesting people; interesting, intelligent conversation.

Then I excused myself at 1 p.m. to dash around the corner to my massage guy. I do this every Wednesday. At $15 USD for an hour, it's a little treat I can afford weekly. Plus I'm getting to know "Beto," the massage therapist. He's a good guy. Afterwards, I wandered down to the town square (zocalo), where I ran into Luis, an American guy I know. He's a friend of a friend of mine from Chicago. Then I looked in at all the cafes ringing the zocalo, under the arches (portales), trying to decide which restaurant to have lunch at. At TerraNova, I ran into another new American friend and joined him at his table for lunch. Unfortunately for our fascinating political discussion, I had to rush off at 3:30 to go home and pick up materials for my class that I'm teaching at 4 p.m. I made it just in time. Today, we had 2 student teaching visitors who observed the class. That always means you have to prepare a bit more and be a bit more "on" if you're being evaluated. But we had a good class. It's only 3 students, but I'm thankful they are involved and participate fully in the class. That went on 'til 6p.m.

Then, I went back to the laboratory to pick up my test results. When was the last time you got same-day turnaround on lab tests in the U.S.? (answer=never). It was then about 6:30. I thought, "Wow, you can just make the baseball game at 7 p.m. over at Vacsoncelos Stadium." Then I realized I've been sick......and I'm tired. It was a full day, almost 11 hours. For an old fart, that's enough. I came home instead of going to the ballgame (even though it's a beautiful night to be outdoors). I stopped at a French pastry shop on the way home. A treat for being brave and having my blood drawn.

Naked Ladies and Other Things

First, the naked lady: As I mentioned earlier, I'm taking a Life Drawing class at the Casa de la Cultura. . .and enjoying it a lot. Last week, in our third week the instructor promised to bring in a live model, as the previous classes had been theory and anatomy lectures. Sure enough, last Thursday, we arrived to find a Naked Lady in the drawing class. Now, if you've never had a Life Drawing class, you can't quite picture how startling that is. Even if one was expecting it. What do you say to a Naked Lady model? Hi, how's it going? Mostly, we just kept our mouths shut (this is not a skill I've mastered) and sketched away like crazy. She was good (apart from being naked). The instructor gave us about 5 minutes per pose, then said, "Carla, change positions." And she did: armed draped over her back. Reclining. Seated on a stool. All de rigeur for art class, but a bit disarming for a 50-something traveling gringo in Mexico.

I had a fever that night (more about that later). It wasn't helped by the fact that--to protect the model's modesty--the instructor shut the door to the patio and all the windows. It was hotter 'n hell in there, with one Naked Lady and about a dozen aspiring artists. I was happy with my efforts. Surprised myself. My sketches don't look like assorted lumps; but more or less like a naked lady in various poses. At first, I felt bad for her having to do a job like that. But at the end, the students all chipped in to pay her fee, which was something like $14 USD/hour for 2 hours. Down here that's big money, and she didn't seem any too worse for the experience.

And now, the fever. Throughout last week, I felt progressively crumbier. Fever, headache, and what's fondly known as "Montezuma's Revenge." Except that down here in Oaxaca, the pre-Conquest Indians weren't too fond of the Aztecs, since the Aztecs had the nasty habit of capturing the local tribespeople and sacrificing them by ripping out their hearts. That always tends to piss people off. And so the Oaxacans fought Montezuma on numerous occasions. So we'll have to call my gut problem some other kind of revenge. I'll be polite and not go into details.

So I hooked up with a local doctor recommended to me by folks at the gringo library here. I'd had on my list of things to do to find a doctor and go in for an introduction so I'd have one to call "just in case." Well, the "just in case" came sooner than planned. He put me on a series of 4 horse-sized pills guaranteed to knock out a wide spectrum of buggies. Must be working, because I feel better today. Only that I'm still tired. But that's to be expected. . . no shit! (pun intended).

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Coping skills:
If you come to Mexico without these, you'll be most unhappy. My own have been sharpened and exercised on a daily basis. Surprisingly, it makes me happy to know that I can manage life's daily challenges in a foreign country. It's different from being a vacationer or tourist. I'm not hopping a plane back north in a week. This is my home, so I really have no option other that to just "deal with it." For example, I recently tried to refill a different prescription I have from the States. I refilled it a month ago here, no problem. This month I went to the very same pharmacy and they told me, "Sorry we can't fill it. You'll need a doctor's written prescription." Understand that you can buy almost any meds over the counter here. I asked, "Well, I got it here LAST month without a script. Why do I need one now?" They couldn't really come up with a good answer except for that I needed one. So I went down the street to a different chain pharmacy. Nope, no prescription needed. They were happy to sell it to me over the counter. This is one of the many mysteries of Mexico. You just deal with it. When I saw my doc this morning about the stomach problems, he said, "No. Absolutely not. That med has never required a prescription." Go figure.

Another example is the other day I was sitting at the bus stop, minding my own business, waiting for a bus to go down to Sam's Club to pick up some stuff. I wasn't feeling too sharp that day. From out of nowhere, a young drunk guy plops down next to me: "You speak Spanish?" "No." (I lied. That works well in situations like this.) "You tourist?" "Yes." "I need money." "Sorry, I don't have any money today." He just sat there, getting right in my face, inches away. I thought he was going to get physical and hit me or grab me or something. But I stayed cool and 100% non-confrontational. It was just like "this is the way it is, buddy." I guess he thought better of it, and eventually stumbled off. I'm glad I didn't get mad. Coping skills stretched to the breaking point.
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Tonight, I'm savoring the evening. I've got both doors open and it's pouring rain, a nice breeze flowing through the house. I'm writing this and having a bowl of fresh guacamole for supper. That's one of the great joys of living here. Fresh avocados that don't cost $1.50 each. Throw one of those bad boys in a bowl with some chopped ripe tomato, onion, garlic, and jalapenos. Umm, umm. As we say in Southern Missouri, "that's some GOOD eatin'." I've recently learned that even though avocados are loaded with fat, it's the good fat. One lady I know says her doctor recommends she eat an avocado a day. I'll take that as sufficient recommendation to do so. A guacamole a day beats "an apple a day" anytime in my book. Especially when paired with a nice jug red wine, as I have here. Cheers!

Small Things

Yesterday, I found a butcher shop.
That normally wouldn't be a big deal, but I'm choosy about buying meat. Every little farmers' market/mercado always has 2 or 3 vendors selling meat. And those cuts are usually hanging in the air, out on hooks, supper for the flies. Oftentimes, it doesn't look very fresh. Dried blood on the counters and cases (if there are cases).

So--being finicky--I've taken the easy way out and bought meat in the big supermarkets (I buy veg & fruit at the mercados). Well, yesterday I was talking about this to the lady who owns the lunch place I eat at almost every day. She serves "comida corrida" (blue plate special) for about $3, and it's always good. And her place is spotless. She said, "you've got to check out the place I buy my meat for the restaurant. They have the freshest meats, and they're really clean. Here's a receipt from my last purchase. They're just down the street....called RYC Meats."

I took her suggestion and went on an exploratory mission. RYC Meats is every bit as good as she said! Super clean; a big, big selection; good service with several butchers behind the counter. They cut meat to order if you want something special. All of it was fresh looking. And I splurged: $10US worth of meat. That bought a kilo of ground beef, two chicken leg & thighs, very thin-cut "milenesa" of beef, and a package of pre-made meatballs.

On the way home from the butcher shop, I stopped by another find from last week, the flower lady at the mercado. Back in the States, I NEVER bought flowers. Considered it an unnecessary expense. But here, they are so CHEAP! This older woman grows flowers for the market in her back garden and brings them in every day. I bought 2 branches of white stargazer lilies, because they smell incredible. Later, at the gringo library, I bought a dozen roses (for $2.50) from an Indian lady who comes in with her little cart filled with vegetables and flowers.

It's small things like that that make living in Oaxaca pleasant.

Oaxaca Observations

OK......a quick grammar lesson.

In Spanish, just like in English, the prefix "re-" before a word means "do again."
For example: re-type, re-think, re-live, etc.

So, walking down Pino Suarez Street here in Oaxaca, I see this sign on the street for a snack shop, lunch place, "Roy's." As the sign says, he serves tacos and RETACOS. What in the hell is that? A taco that's been served once before? Or worse, eaten once before? I have no idea.
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More in the funny name department--
A main street here, north of downtown is Jakobo Dalevuelta Street. That's a man's name. But his name is Jake Turn-Around (or Turn-Over).

A pastry shop chain here is Quemen Pastelerias. "Quemen" is the third person subjunctive form of the verb "they burn it." Really! That's the name of the shop.
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And in the culturally lost-in-translation department:
I signed up for 2 summer workshops at the Casa de la Cultura. One in choral singing, the other Life Drawing. I went to the information table, and they insisted that I have identification. Don't know why they need to know my identity, but, OK. I went home and got my passport. Brought the passport back to table #2 with computer, where staffer is entering data in computer. His first question was, "What's you blood type?"
Since my Spanish isn't perfect, I thought I'd misunderstood the question. Nope, "What's your blood type?" I said I had no idea...and why in the world would they need to know my blood type for an art class? He said, "because it's on the form." He said he absolutely HAD to enter something, so we went through the options: A postive, A negative, O, B, etc. He said to just pick one. I did. He was happy.

Mexicans are very big on bureaucracy and forms. My understanding is that it's a make-work deal and helps with greater employment. So, the NEXT step in registering for this 2 silly little classes (notice the attitude change?) is that THEY DO NOT ACCEPT CASH. The registrant has to take the slip of paper from the Blood Type Man over to Bank Norte 5 blocks away. I stood in line for 1/2 hour waiting to get to the cashier. At that point I was thinking, "to hell with it. I don't want it this bad." But just for grins and giggles, I got to the head of the line, paid my $30 to the cashier, and got two forms in triplicate. The reason for taking the registration money directly to the bank is that the managers of the school realize that their staff WOULD STEAL THE MONEY. Ergo, circumvent the staff, go directly to bank.

Then--of course--I had to walk the bank receipts back 5 blocks to the school. And there...lo and behold...another line for the school registrar. I finally got to the head of the line and got my 2 multi-part forms which actually allowed me to enter the classes. Oh, yeah. One last line, separate desk. For the class materials lists.

I was so proud of myself! I stuck it out. And, I've done a full week of both classes. Talk about stretching one's comfort zone! Obviously, the classes are in Spanish. My brain is working overtime to comprehend. And I'm not the world best artist or singer. But I AM learning and enjoying. And that's what its about.

Goose Chase In Search of a Choir

OK, I used to sing in a men's choir when I was back in Phoenix.
I enjoyed it.
So I had this hair-brained idea that maybe I could sing in a choir here in Oaxaca. Goodness knows there's plenty of music and art in this city. I began by asking about the Municipal Chorus at a tourism office kiosk over in the zocalo. The lady there said, "Oh, you'll have to ask at the Casa de Cultura." That made sense.

Next day, I walked over to the Casa de Cultura, which is only about 3 blocks from my apartment. Nope, they only offer workshops. But they've got one for choral singing (I just might sign up). The Municipal Chorus is run out of the City of Oaxaca, office of culture and arts.

Never take never for an answer. Today, I walked 14 blocks over to the municipal building, went through security, up a flight of stairs, and to the city's office of culture and arts. Nope, not there. That particular function was run out of an office on Hidalgo Street. What luck! I live around the corner from Hidalgo Street.

So I walked over to the Hidalgo Street location. Nope. Closed. A notice on the door that they'd relocated to a new office closer to downtown. No problem. I walked BACK DOWNTOWN to the new offices.

There was no sign on the street indicating this was a municipal office building. I stuck my head inside and asked the girl at the front desk. "Yes, this is it, but we've just moved in and you can see we're still in a mess." She took me in and introduced me to the correct lady in charge of the culture office. "I'm sorry," she explained, "but we haven't even moved in the desks yet. Can you come back Monday and we can give you the contact information?" Sure. At this point, why give up the fun?

So Monday, I'll trek back over there, get the phone number for the chorus's director. All this, probably to no avail. They've never had a "furriner" in the group, only locals. But it never hurts to ask. And ask. And ask.

Smell This

I wish you could smell these. They are paperwhites (a type of flower for those of you non-horticulturally inclined). I bought them on the street tonight walking home. An Indian lady and her young daughter were selling them from a basket. I stuck my nose in....and a sale was made. If flowers could talk, you'd have to say these are SCREAMING. Their perfume is so incredibly strong, it's almost overpowering.

I but them in a carafe in the middle of the dining room table (where I am sitting now at the computer). The carafe was formerly home to some very bad red wine, which I banished to the inner reaches of my stomach. Had to get rid of it somehow, right? I really just wanted the carafe. They scent the entire apartment.

It's raining now, heavily. I've got my doors open on both ends of the house. I like listening to rain. On my way home from the movie tonight, I stumbled upon an open-air public band concert and dance. The were playing "danzon" music, and a good number of older couples took to the improvised dance floor, which was at the corner in front of Santo Domingo Church. I thought....if all those monks and nuns from centuries past could see the goings-on! They'd probably....hike up their habits and come out for a spin around the band.

An American Day

Sometimes you can't get around being an American.

Today was one of those days. This morning, I went to the American library just to hang around and chat with gringos. I find this very satisfying. And then I took the bus out to the modern shopping area, Plaza del Valle. I'm ashamed to say I had lunch at KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN, otherwise known as KFC. Yep, I did it. And I enjoyed every bite of greasy original recipe (here known as "secret recipe"), mashed potatoes and cole slaw. Can't get more American than that. Somehow the chicken didn't taste exactly the U.S. version....I know they're supposed to. One bit of culture shock: as I was seated at my table munching away on a chicken leg, I looked up at the service counter. There in line was a Zapotec woman, dressed in colorful headscarf and traditional Indian costume, holding a baby, and ordering the Colonel's special....make that with a Coke.
I think we get accused of American cultural imperialism for just such things.

And then I walked over to Sam's Club and bought a membership. I don't even have a membership back in the States. But they are the only game in town here in Oaxaca for a number of items you can't find elsewhere. And prescription meds are cheaper at Sam's than at the regular pharmacies in the center of the city.

And now I'm home watching "NBC Evening News" online. In an hour, I'll go up to Pochote Cine-Club (free movie place) to watch an American movie.

While I'm feeling increasing bi-cultural and comfortable LIVING in the middle of Mexican society.....as they say, you can take the boy out of Missouri, but you can't take the Missouri out of the boy. And that's my American Day. Some days you just have to do it that way.

VEG

Friday means it's farmer's market day in Llano Park, about a 10 block walk from my apartment. I seem to have missed it on previous Fridays, so this last Friday, I made a special point of going. I headed out early, prepared with comfy walking shoes and my trusty sack. It's an ugly thing I bought in the regular market (building). Woven plastic or vinyl or something. It's got product nutrition information and weights stamped on one side, so it lived a previous life....maybe as a flour sack? I like it because it's strong as heck and I can load it down.

I stopped on the way and had a little breakfast, a ham and egg torta (sandwich) and a glass of fresh OJ. Never start a Mexican day without fresh-squeezed orange juice. Once I got to the park, there were dozens and dozens of vendors in little stands set up under plastic tarps (it's been rainy). I was in pig heaven! Every kind of fruit and vegetable you can name....and many I couldn't. There were bakery stands with fresh rolls and pastel pastries. The chicken lady with very yellow whole chickens, feet and all, hanging from the rafters. And the fish lady. I bought 2 unidentified fish from her and had her fillet them. I patronized 2 vegetable sellers. The stuff was SOOOOO fresh: green beans, whole garlic, onions, broccoli, red ripe tomatoes, carrots, and funny ROUND zucchini. I bought it all. I overloaded my shopping bag. Had to take a taxi home, no way I was walking. Once home, I spread it all out on the counter and it got a goood soak in MicroDyn (antiseptic wash whose main germ-killing ingredient is colloidal silver. Some people get colloidal silver at the health food store and use it to fight colds & flu).

I'm busy cooking up all the stuff. A big pot of vegetable soup is in order for tomorrow.

Fungus for Lunch

Today, I was lucky enough to have been invited to the home of an American couple who've lived in Oaxaca for several years and are part of the expat community here. First, it was neat being able to see what they had done in remodeling the house. Spectacular! With a interior courtyard backed by a full length mural. An orchidarium on the roof. Mahogany staircase. And exceptional Mexican art. I love looking at other people's homes to see what they've done with them. I'm still at the rental stage in Mexico and probably will be for a very long time. But you can always dream....

My hosts' cook made a tasty and typically Oaxacan lunch for the group--chicken stuffed with huitlacoche. This is corn smut or a fungus that naturally grows on corn. In the U.S., it's considered a pest. In Mexico, it's a great delicacy. So I ate it. No complaints. Kind of looked like black spinach. Flavor, hard to say since there was a tomato salsa that went over the dish. Here's more info from Wikipedia on huitlacoche:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corn_smut
It could be worse. They eat grasshoppers and a type of ant here, too. For those, I'll pass, thanks.

This evening, I had plans to go see 2 movies at the free cine-club Pochote, "Dream Girls," and "Tommy." Both have terrific music. I walked the 16 blocks from my apartment to the movie place. Only once I got there, the projectionist told us that the movies never got delivered....sorry. (This is pretty typical for Mexico.) He was going to show an old Mexican movie instead. I wasn't interested, so I got up and left and walked the 16 blocks home. Back in my misspent youth, I would have been mad as hell. Tonight, I just chalked it up to a nice evening stroll.

Neither Fish Nor Foul

Friday, I tagged along on an excursion put on by the gringo library up to a trout farm/restaurant in the mountains outside of town. Wonderful views, cool mountain air. And grilled trout was mighty tasty, too.

Saturday, I and an Australian girl I volunteer with at the children's shelter took a small group of kiddies to a baseball game. Two boys, two girls, all around 10-11 years old. They'd never been to a ball game before. I considered that deprived of basic summer fun. They were super well behaved, more so than American kids, I think. One little girl got a nosebleed. But kids do that. We had pizza, drank soda pop, a made a lot of noise when Oaxaca scored a run. Oh yeah, the Oaxaca team lost. By a point. But, who cares? A good time was had by all.

Ashes to Ashes

Well, today was the third anniversary of the 2006 Oaxaca riots. That year, there were deaths and injuries. In 2009, like 2006, the militants are the state teachers union, along with a political group, APPO. They postered and graffitied most building in the central part of the city, including the historic landmark old canterra stone churches and monuments.

This year, the groups have been encamped in the zocalo (town square) since I arrived in mid-May. There is a long banner stringed between two trees with the images of Marx, Engels, Lenin, and (a real hero?) Stalin. There are loud speakers blasting the demands of the teachers/APPO. And, in solidarity, they've invited in the "ambulantes" or street vendors. These folks have set up shop on every square inch of the pretty square, selling teeshirts, sweet corn, pirated CD's, tacos, and almost everything you can imagine. Somehow, it doesn't quite make sense. Teachers' strike....selling mango on a stick? Go figure.

So this morning (the anniversary), the downtown residents were awakened at 5:00 a.m. with a series of blasts every 3-5 minutes or so. Firecrackers, bottle rockets, or something more sinister? Don't know. In fact, as I'm writing this, there are more explosions outside. I have to admit, it gets your attention, though. And while I prudently decided to stay inside all day and miss the multi-thousand marches through the city, and the traffic blockades, I got bored. So around 5 p.m. I went out for a little stroll....toward the zocalo just to see what I missed. And that was the remains of burned-out tires--mounds of black stinking ashes. My allergies were most unhappy.

For the citizens of Oaxaca, I hope the two sides get this resolved soon. After the swine flu scare, the lousy economy, and news of narco-wars, tourism couldn't be worse.
And tourism is, overwhelmingly, the economic engine of Oaxaca. It feeds tens of thousands of families. The annual folkloric festival, the Guelaguetza, is coming up in July. It would be a pity if this political disturbance kills the golden goose and all they wind up with is....a pile of ashes.

Kinky Oaxaca

This statue sits in an alcove on top of a commercial building (NOT a church, surprisingly) in downtown Oaxaca. If you can't tell, he doesn't look too happy. It's of a Catholic penitent stripped half naked, scourging himself with a whip. These flagellants were common in the Middle Ages in Europe. Looks like some of the fun spread to Latin America. Here's a link to Wikipedia if you want to know more--
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flagellant

It still looks kinky to me.

The Shape of Our Lives

I'm not sure if it's living in Mexico or being retired.

The rhythm of my life has change noticeably. I'm voting for the Mexico thing, since when I've been back in the States, briefly, during the last 7 months, I fall right back into my old patterns. Like list-making. I don't do that here, since I would have nothing to put on the list. Back in Phoenix it was: doctor's appointment, pick up new charger for cell phone, take car in for service, stop at the store for groceries, go to the bank, etc., etc. It was endless.

A startling reality--at least for me: Here, I don't have much to do. Being a Type A personality in total recovery, I've had to slow down. Folks who know me thought I'd be bored to death. On the contrary. With less to do, you savor those things you do do. It's quite a lot like the "slow foods" movement (in reaction against fast foods). Shop for foods carefully. Be conscientious about your selections. Cook things slowly to capture all the flavor. And then savor them in the eating.

Many of you have asked, "So, what's your typical day like?" OK, here goes. Today. A very pleasant day. I got up around 8:30. I've been sleeping a TON. And enjoying in immensely. It may be because of the elevation here, my being outside all day in the fresh air and sunshine. I'm doing 9 hours a night + nap (more about that later). Then I make a simple little breakfast of home-cooked oatmeal with fresh bananas. I faithfully squeeze a big old glass of fresh orange juice. It's so good! And maybe a slice of toast. Interesting note--you can by pre-toasted bread in a package here. Don't need to own a toaster. I usually burn it when I'm doing it myself, anyway.

Then a shower and get dressed. Today, I had to be at the Estancia Infantil (Children's Shelter) for street kids at 10 a.m. There, I meet Eva, a girl from Australia, who twice a week brings in the most amazing craft projects for the kids. I just help with that, and do some individual tutoring and homework help. Also, I'm usually up for a bit of soccer with the boys. Now that's something funny to watch--a 50+ gringo and some 10-12-year-old Mexican kids playing soccer. Guess who's fastest?
I find working with the kids super rewarding. One boy, Osvaldo (about 11, I'd say), needs a lot of help with homework. We did math last week--long division and multiplication. He did surprisingly well, and enjoyed the positive feedback and individual attention I could give him. Today, we worked on spelling and reading (not so good). I asked him....begged him...to read me a storybook. The center has a big collection. He flat out refused. I made funny faces until he acquiesced. We made it a 2-man project. He got to pick the book. Very short, with lots of pictures. About sea animals (manatees). Then I understood why he didn't want to read to me. He could barely read. So we sounded out words together, me pointing to the pictures. Or physically illustrating the problem words. (How do you show the word 'flippers' for example?)

I'm really aware of the kids' short concentration limits, so we break up learning with a bit of soccer or helping out over at the crafts table. And sometimes, we just talk. Osvaldo knew the name of the American president. And he knew the name of the Mexican president, too (they've got local elections coming up here in a month).

I'm trying to organize an outing for the kids--an excursion to a local baseball game with the Oaxaca team, the Guerreros. None of the kids have every been to a ballgame (my Dad would be rolling over in his grave!). Kids under 12 get in free. So one of the men who works there, and the lady doctor and I are going to be the 'chaperones' and herd off a flock of kiddies to the ballgame Saturday afternoon. I'm expecting it to be like herding cats. But, at a Mexican ballgame, no one will care.

After the volunteer stint, I walked back downtown with my Australian friend and we had lunch in a local cafeteria/diner place. I always go for the 'comida corrida,' or meal of the day. At Tito's, it's 38 pesons...about $2.75US...and that includes a soup, main course, dessert, and fruit drink. Such a deal! Eva and I had a nice chat about her dream of moving to Canada with her boyfriend.

After lunch, it was time for a nap. I did 2 hours. OK, I'm embarrassed. But it sure felt nice, and I awoke 100% recharged. Then, I watched the U.S. news online, and had a chat with an American lady student who lives across the way in one of the other departments here. I walked down to the Mercado to buy some bananas for breakfast tomorrow....just as an excuse to go for a walk. Then, I had a bowl of soup for supper at a restaurant on the zocalo. And I splurged and had a cantaloupe popsicle. I like this pattern of eating with the main meal midday (around 2-3 p.m.), and a light meal in the evening.

And now I'm back home writing to you. I'll read a bit a go to bed. So--as you can see--nothing earthshaking. But it was a sweet and pleasant day, and that's all that any of us could ask for.

There's Something About a Clothesline

In this, my NEW new apartment, I have a washing machine out on the back patio. This is super common in Mexican homes, putting "Electro-Domesticos" outside. The water heater is found out there, too.

But I have no dryer. To my Americanized way of thinking, "what's with this? Where did the dryer go?" Duh. Clothesline. I haven't even seen one of those in probably 40 years. But here, I found the cord all rolled up, untied it, and strung it across the patio. I went out and bought clothespins (called "pinzas"...think 'pinchers'). So, my first foray into doing the wash Mexico style:

The washer filled with water, I added detergent & clothes. And then it sat there. No agitation, no spinning. "Damn!" I thought. Something's always busted in Mexico. So I went to ask (nicely, think you) my landlady if there was some trick with the washer I didn't understand....it wasn't spinning properly. And, trick there was. She came over (she lives 2 units down) and jammed a ballpoint pen into the slot where the lid latch normally goes. "The latch broke off," she explained, "but this works just the same." And it did.

Once the cycles were completed, to the clothesline with the clothes. I felt so...so 1940's hanging out my laundry. I got everything hung up except for about 6 pair of underwear, which went onto the backs of dining room chairs to dry. And I'll leave you contemplating that pretty mental picture. It's definitely a look...