Tianguis and a Quinceañera

24-November-2019, Sunday, 5:49 PM CDT

     I come to you, Constant Reader, with one week left in my first semester as an English professor at TEC Tepexi--one week left for me anyway. A week from now I'll be back in Queretaro for early in-service training (EIST). It's remarkable, the fact that my service is about a quarter of the way through. EIST is a milestone for all PCVs and an exciting time for our cohort to get together and talk about things more tangible when compared to all the theory we had to rely on during PST. To be honest, I could really use the week of EIST to teach my students. Right now between sporadic student attendance and school events, planning has been difficult. We'll have to rush through that last two units--not something I want to do, but, as the saying goes--ya gotta do what ya gotta do.
     Aside from our first semester together coming to an end, the highlight of this week was my first trip to the market. Wow. What a wonderland that place is! Every Tuesday morning, all roads in the region lead to Tepexi the tianguis or open-air market. This was my second trip overall but first alone as a big boy buying his own groceries, and I think I did pretty good. I struggled to the taxi with my haul which included black beans, bananas, rice, mezcal 😀, almonds, raisins, eggs, oats, onions, peppers, garlic, a box of milk cartons, ginger, jitomates, and more. La plaza--as it's called in Tepexi because there's another place in town known as "el mercado"--is magical. I felt like I was walking into the Bloomsburg Fair the atmosphere was so festive. Live music or in radio playing cumbia or mariachi or banda, aromas of frying chicharon, fresh cut flowers, and the wholesome scent of tortillas heating up, all kinds of people walking here and there, conscious consumers aware of the uniformly better pricing there than in town. I sampled some mezcal and chatted with some locals and was offered a barbacoa taco (goat) on the house by a family that I knew. What a great first trip it was, and I can't wait to go back this Tuesday.
     Quick aside: the Spanish word "anteayer." It means "the day before yesterday," and it's a shame we don't have an equivalent word in English. Such a useful word. Any suggestions for one in English? After all, remember, all words are "made-up." How about...I don't know...yonderday? Not at all married to the offer, just trying to spark the discussion that leads to its coinage. Remember once again, there are no bad suggestions while brainstorming in a group (there are actually, but it's detrimental to the process to say so).
     ¿Que mas? Oh yeah, la quinceañera, talk about throwing the house through the window.* If you've never been to a quinceañera, you can't know the extent of their significance. I went to one a few weeks ago but didn't stay long, but stayed for the first band at this one on Saturday. Huge tents, hundreds of people, food for days, bands, fancy dresses for the girls who're taking their first step toward adulthood, an escort of young men also formally dressed accompany them, choreographed dances, a table full of candies swarmed when the announcement is made, tables of gifts and cakes and dancing into the night. I got to dance with the honorary young lady last night, and I learned a few more steps by dancing with my cousins and other guests at the party. Dancing is a skill that is prevalent here; most people have at least a basic level of the many differents steps danced throughout an array of occasions. I hope to be a better partner dancer by the time I leave. You, Constant Reader, probably already know of my...propensity for solo dancing.
     So I spent last night in La Colonia, where I used to live with my family, the Aranguthies. I'd been feeling pretty lonely at times since moving out, so it was nice to reunite with them. This morning, at 7:30, I joined them more mass on the mountain. I don't go to church often, but it's nice to go once in a while and be reminded that you're an insignificant, misguided sheep of this universe under the auspices of the cosmic shepherd--plus, there were tamales and coffee afterwards, so you can't beat that. I often joke and tell people that I came to Mexico for the food. All jokes contain at least a trace of honesty, and in this one it's more like a heap of honesty--I love Mexican food. I won't become a taco snob when I return to the US, but I will always knows that we can't do tacos there like they do them here.
     Ok, I know I said last week that I'd have a post comprised entirely of a random wrap-up, but you should know of my flakiness by now, Constant Reader. At a later date I'll write it. I need to take better notes throughout the week in order to deliver a wrap-up sufficiently random. I've also had an idea of posting an Mexican Flora album, which I will do in time. I first have to take a collection of photos that showcases some of the many types of beautiful flowers here. Well, it's late and I'm tired. My first last week of class is tomorrow, so I need to rest up. It's time to run through the finish line. Till next time. Keep your stick on the ice. 


*"tirar la casa por la ventana" is a Spanish phrase translated literally above, but it means to pull out all the stops or go all out for someone or something, spare no expense, "Efforts must be doubled." - Finch.

Thinking About Editing the Description of this Blog...

Sunday, 17-November-2019, 8:09 PM CDT

     ...editing "weekly" to "biweekly." I'm tired of you hounding me about not posting every Sunday. It didn't even crossed my mind last week until a day after. It'd be so easy, too, just a few clicks of the mouse and few taps of some keys and vuala, a new standard. I guess it is that easy to change our standards in everyday* life as well. Decide you want to work less or exercise less and poof , done, that easy, standard lowered. And what's the big deal? Practice your skill, whatever it is--fishing, woodworking, sailing--practice an hour or two less each week and what's going to happen? No pasa nada, todo bien. You might not achieve your dreams as a result, but what's the big deal about achieving dreams, anyhow? Having a stable, rewarding, challenging, worthy job, decent health, and a even more healthy family--that's the real dream, hain't? That ideal vision of the future you have for yourself as a professional whatever, that's, well that's...

     I've been writing a story in Spanish with about the same consistency and dedication of those I've written in English. Man, if you think writing reader-worthy fiction in your native language is hard, try writing it in a second one. Despite the difficulty with which I write and the trudging pace at which the story is progressing, there's a decent network of plot I got going on. I'm going to share some of it with you. But...I've come back to this part of the draft after finishing it and now don't feel like translating the excerpt. What? Come on. Cut me a break. My butt hurts and my breath stinks from the inaugural meal of sardine, black bean, jalapeno tacos (I'm living in my own place now, hence the "inaugural meal" talk). But listen, I'm going to post the Spanish version below. You can translate it if you want to get an idea, and next week--or whenever--I'll give you the real deal. How easy it is to translate something you've written. 

     "Un día, bajo el mar, un grupo de peces linternas comían en paz. De repente, llegaron unos delfines entrando y saliendo en todas direcciones como unas balas. Devoraron diez peces con cada ataque. Porque había muchos peces en el grupo, miles de millones, lo seguro fue  permanecer con el grupo y correr el riesgo. Lo más probable fue que sobrevivieras el ataque. Pero uno pez linterna no era valiente. Ignacio se asustó cuando sus amigos fueron comidos. Ignacio él mismo fue casi comido, pero él se escapó del delfine sin parte de su cola. Ignacio tuvo miedo y nervios. Decidió salir del grupo, algo que ningún pez  había hecho antes de él. Ningunos peces notaron que Ignacio nadaba fuera de sincronía con su grupo. Él estuvo un trozo de caos en una sinfonía acosado con pestes  mortales. Pero la sinfonía continuó tocar, por este momento debido al hecho de que  ellos habían practicado , practicaron sin pensamiento o palabras entre ellos . Ignacio nadaba  todo derecho mientras todas los demás  nadaban juntos esto y aquello  camino. Sus compañeros le golpearon y le preguntaron a dónde iba  pero no pensaron en seguirlo. Después de una curva rápido del grupo, Ignacio estaba solo, cara a cara con un delfín por un instante,Luego, sin que el delfín le vio, porque Ignacio era fácil de olvidar, el asesino de torpedo disparó hacia el grupo. Ignacio veía mientras su familia y sus amigos nadaban lejos, incontable delfines disparaban por la masa bailando . Luego él estuvo solo y rodeado de  un mundo de azul oscuro y un vasto desconocido."

     The first few months at site were blessedly healthy for me. I didn't have any problems with diarrhea or anything, but the past two weeks were different. After watching Shamokin's tough loss to MCA on YouTube, I was inundated by a horrendous migraine, I mean it was debilitating. It came on that night, and I hardly slept. The pain was constant and dull, like a metal finger was being hydraulically pressed into my forehead with just the right amount of force. I stayed in bed throughout the day, unwilling and hardly able to do anything--thankfully it was the weekend. After talking to an excellent member of the Peace Corps Mexico medical staff, una Nica, Mariano, he prescribed me some OTC migraine meds. They were sublingual and tasted like bitter Tic-Tacs (orange of course). The meds worked about as gradually as a season change, and I was back on my feet for class on Monday. I rarely get migraines that bad--I'm talking like once every few years--so, call me crazy, but I honestly believe it was brought on by another year without the Coal Bucket. Being so far from Kemp Memorial and that close, yet again, to bringing it home, I was devastated. Part of me didn't want to win because I wanted to be in town for the epic celebration, but that selfish part of me was outweighed by the part that wanted to win for the kids, the school, and the town. Alas, another edition of the consolatory "maybe next year."

     On Thursday I went to Puebla City to report an address change. I was mentally prepared to take the bus but found a coworker with a car who was also making the the two hour trip (in a bus it's closer to four with a real feel of about eight). I got to immigration ten minutes before open and was about the tenth party in line. It was a bit strange to see people of varying skin colors. Tepexi is a small town. Everybody's brown just like, mostly, everybody's white in Shamokin, PA. A palette of humanity was represented in the line, and it was nice to see. The wait was short and the process was smooth--the latter thanks to the footwork of PC Mexico staff. My coworker Dani and ran some errands afterwards, and I had my first craft beer in Mexico, a stout--a little flat and nothing to write home about but a stout nonetheless. I also had a Mexican pizza and a gas station sandwich on the trip. Well wouldn't you know I was knocked out again, but this time the problem was more southerly, more...messy. I spewed, I pooed, and I was again bed-bound for the remainder of Thursday and immediately after class on Friday. We were told that our service would include "high highs" and "low lows," but isn't that how life always is for most of us?

     The biggest news this week is me moving into a new place. My time with the la familia Aranguthy en la Colonia was fantastic, and I didn't move far because I will be visiting them often. Plus, my favorite dog of theirs, Longara, just had puppies, so I need to go back soon and let them crawl all over me and lick my face while I lie helpless on the ground from cuteness overload. Anywho, the place is small, just one big room with a bed, table, armoire, and full bath before I moved in. Now I have a fridge, two beds conjoined, and another table. It's not much, but it's all I need. The shower drains slowly and water spills into the main room, and the windows have no screens yet, so it gets a little stale and warm, but these faults will be fixed in time. Poco a Poco. A little patience goes a long way. Live with less for a while and you'll appreciate it when--or if 😕--you earn more. 

     Ok, that's all for now. 

     What? No Random Wrap-Up? They're my favorite part of the blog.

     I know. They are great. Next week, or maybe next post is better, "Poco a Poco: Random Wrap-Up Edition."

     Yay! You gonna change the description or what? Gonna improve less and be less disciplined? Shouldn't be a problem.

     Who invited you to this blog anyway?

     😉

     ¡Hasta la próxima! 

*I spell "everyday" when used as an adjective and "every day" for the noun phrase. E.g. "Every day, everyday people like you and me chip a tooth on peanut brittle."

 

My First Mexican Beach, an Anniversary, a Dead Snake

     Why hello, readers, whoever you are, wherever you are, and welcome to the latest edition of Poco a Poco. I went quiet last week, I know, and the week before, I know. Do you want to hear an excuse or shall we just get on with it? Yeah, just get on with it. Two weekends ago I visited my first Mexican shore, Chachalacas, a small beach town in the state of Veracruz. I went with my friend Arturo and his family. We left their home in Mendoza City, Veracruz at 5:30 AM and were in the ocean by 8. The water was warm and the weather was hot, even for eight in the morning.
     From Chachalacas we travelled south to the Port of Veracruz, where it grew extremely hotter. We went for lunch at the Fisherman's Market where we ate delicious seafood. To start, I had a cocktail with so many good things--shrimp, oysters, amazing salsa, cilantro and onion, avocado, octopus, and crackers. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. After the cocktails we ate fish that Arturo bought next door. The fish was also delicious and served in creamy white sauce. We washed it all down with Modelo Negras.
     After lunch we explored the Port of Veracruz some more. We had nieve from the famous chain called "Gueros." "Nieve" literally means "snow" in English, and it's some awesome combination of ice cream and snow cones. I felt like I belonged in Gueros because of my skin color and affinity for nieve. It felt like the employees were calling to me specifically as the invited tourists to cool down with a frosty treat. Their calls included only one word, repeated in rapid succession, "guero guero guero guero." I responded like a dog being called with a treat.
   The coast wasn't the only highlight of my weekend in Veracruz. Close to Mendoza City is Orizaba, where there's a zoo that runs along the river that flows through town. We rode the Teleférico (aerial lift) to the top of the mountain and took in the beautiful scenery on the way. Lunch in the market was delicious, a quesadilla with chorizo mmmm and we saw a reclusive old man that's said to have millions of dollars though he appears poor. Arturo took me to a lagoon with the most beautiful clear blue, freezing water and we visited the former home of Maximilian I of Mexico.

     Back in Tepexi classes were cancelled for all but one day this past week. We celebrated the 23rd Anniversary of the university with A LOT of dancing, a pageant for Miss Tepexi, a contest to see which major could make the best ofrenda , a 5k race race around town, and much more. It was nice to take a break from everyday teaching and learning, but I'm ready to get back at it tomorrow--even if some of the students aren't.

     And the big event this weekend was Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), the closest holiday Mexico has to Halloween, though their similarities are few. If you've seen Coco you have an idea of what this holiday is about. It's basically about honoring and remembering your dead relatives. Yesterday morning, Saturday, ten of us crammed into a Tracker and drove up to town. The cemetery was full of people visiting their relatives. Altars were covered in flower petals, candles, crosses, and other adornments. We brought a container of water and used a flower to sprinkle it on the altar. I would have loved to see the cemetery all lit up at night, but the ceremony in Tepexi takes place during the day.
     After visiting the relatives we went across the street to a parking lot that is usually vacant but this day was shaded by two giant tents. Under the tents were hundreds of people eating tacos, quesadillas, gorditas, chicharron, cemitas, things fried. Music played from radios and from musicians live in the wonderful shade. Enchanting scents of food filled the place. Vendors circulated selling cheese, chips, peanuts, toys, and more. It was a marvelous sight.
     My family and I bought some groceries and headed up to the cabin that overlooks town. On the way, I spotted a snake in the road. My cousin Jesus and I got out of the car. I wasn't sure what we were going to do, but I should have been. At first we thought it was a rattler, but it turned out not to be, just a python about five feet long and angry with our interrupting her harmless slither across the rocky road. Chucho got a stick from the bush while she just stayed there curled up in defense. He told me to distract her because she was paying too much attention to him, but my efforts failed; she knew who the threat was. He trapped her neck and maybe told me to grab her, but I wasn't sure what he said so I just stayed put. Uncle Benja was filming from the tracker behind us. He carefully got her by the neck and squeezed. Her body was wrapped around his solid arm in no time. As we walked up to the cabin Jesus didn't allow her to breath by tightly pinching her airway. I unwrapped her failing yet strong body from his arm. She felt cold and smooth. Even in her dying moments she tried to defend herself by wrapping around his arm again. I unwrapped her a second time, and she hadn't the strength to try again. Once we got to the cabin, we locked her up in a bag and put her aside. They told me she'd yield 500 pesos (about 25 bucks) at the market.
     Up the cabin Chucho and I gathered wood to fuel that fire that cooked pig skin and pork in a giant clay vat filled with oil. We added salt, jabaneros, orange juice, a few splashes of mezcal, and some leaves I couldn't identify. The meat cooked for what seemed like hours, and we drank Victoria and mezcal and chatted in the meantime. By the time it was ready, and I a little tipsy, the rest of the partygoers had arrived and we ate ourselves to death in honor of the day.

     Ok now for the Random Wrap-Up. After handling the snake, we washed our hands with dirt because we had no soap, at yesterday's party I held hands with a 101 year-old woman who couldn't hear and could only see you if you stood just so in the line of her deteriorated sight, a few people have told me my Spanish accent is European which is cool to me but I don't know why, another person told me I was a good drinker which means a lot coming from a Mexican, students here ask permission before entering the room, a custom so engrained even the adult learners I teach do it, my three year-old niece doesn't yet have the r sound down yet so she calls me Coney hahaha, my favorite dog of the house, Longara, is pregnant again, que mas?, I found a place that I should be moving into in a few weeks 1,300 pesos a month (about $65) and it includes hot water, internet, and furniture--no kitchen, though, and I only have about a month of instruction until my first semester as an English teacher in Mexico is over. Wow.

     Thanks for reading, and I hope you drop by next time. Hasta luego.