Sick and Tired of being Sick and Tired -- August 25

Isn't there a song that goes like this? 

Well, if there is, then I should be singing it right now. MAN, this is the second week that I've had a cold. What's up with this? Usually it only lasts for a week, but this time, just after getting over it, I got right back into the sore throat, stuffy nose, clogged sinuses and all that jazz. I'm building up a resistance against the nose-spray. Yesterday I had to administer it every three hours, while it lasted for 5-6 hours when I started taking it ten days ago. Today I took it just about ninety minutes ago, and my nose passages are clogged already. On the other hand I'm starting to feel the side-effect: I'm constantly drowsy. I can't wake up to go to the beach in the morning, and by noon-time I'm ready to go to bed. Not good!

But am I surprised about having a constant cold in a nearly-tropical climate? Not in a school full of air-conditioning! Picture this: after the five minute bike-ride to school I'm drenched in sweat as if I had just come out of the sauna (fully clothed of course). With the humidity it is nearly impossible to dry in the sun, or in the shade for that matter. Instead I go and sit down in a classroom where I get hit by a cool breeze of 18 centigrades, blowing full force out of the AC. Now, going through that four times a day can make even the strongest person sick. I know, almost everyone in our group has come down with it at some point.

My two neighbors, two other students living at the house, have offered to give me some remedies. Caroline from France has something homeopathic, that she says works wonders. Monika from Germany practices an ancient technique called Reiki, which I will try just for the hell of it. What I'd be really interested in trying, however, is something I've heard from the German student, Anette, who had been staying with us before.

When she arrived, she had a bad a case of stomach-acid... I guess she had too much of it, or something. So someone told her to visit a famous Mexican witch-doctor, and she took a bus out there. It was a ride of more than five hours. He used a chicken egg and some smelly stuff to examine her. His diagnosis was that her stomach was inhabited by some sort of evil, and that she needed surgery. Since his fee was relatively low, compared to what a western-style surgery would cost, she accepted.

He took out a razor-blade, and accompanied by some mumbo-jumbo cut a few long lines onto her skin above her stomach, mixed some strange yellow powder into the wound, then covered it with a patch. That was the "surgery". Days later, when she showed it to me, the marks of the surgery were still prominent, red and inflamed, and she told me she didn't even believe that it would help. But in the end somehow it did. Her stomach felt much better, the acid got balanced, and now she can partake of the same quesadillas with salsa verde and horchata (not to mention the peppers, onions and tomatoes), that everybody else is eating round here.

So I wonder... what that wizard would do to my nose? Stick some bamboo splinters into my nostrils to drain the phlegm out? Maybe... and I wouldn't even object. Hell, I might even pay him to do that! Unfortunately Anette is gone now, so I can't ask her where to find the witch-doctor.

What else can I do? The answer is obvious: leave this place behind. On Sunday I know I will. Can't wait to get out of Playa. I don't want to go too far (just a thousand kilometers, or so...) up to a higher elevation where it's cool enough not to need air-conditioners. My chosen destination is Oaxaca. I've only heard good things about it... lots of culture, lots of art, good climate... well, I'll write about it when I get there.

Flora & Fauna -- August 10

What a day it! 

As busy as my days have been ever since I started this course, toady almost felt like a day in a beautiful beach resort. Originally they gave us most of the day as a free-prep time for typing assignments and preparing for our teaching sessions. Being dedicated students and trying to be amazing teachers, we set out doing just that. But then everything just went haywire.

The copy machine tried to perform its job but failed miserably, the air-conditioner decided to cool by spitting water at us rather than blowing cold air, the printer ran out of ink, and when finally a power shortage made most late-comers lose their unsaved assignments, we decided to f*ck it all, and head to the beach. Crazy idea, in the middle of the day! It was hot, and the sun beat down on us without mercy, so we didn't stay for too long. At least it provided us with a little distraction from the stuffy classroom where nothing (hence nobody) was working.

On the way there I noticed how quickly nature is repairing the damages caused by hurricane Emily. Everything is starting to grow in. The trees are green again, and the empty lots, which have been filled up with ripped and broken vegetation from after the hurricane are turning into plots of jungle once again. Amazing how fast everything grows over here... and decays.

Last week I saw a piece of fresh roadkill on my way to the beach. I guess it must have been a rat of some sort. First I thought it was a dog, judging from its size, but the long tail gave it away. It was pretty flattened to begin with, but it didn't take more than three days for it to decompose. Now all that's left of it is a dark spot, one of the many.

Other interesting critters I haven't spotted yet. They've got some curious birds though. One similar to a blackbird, but with super shinny feathers, bright eyes and a long tail. They make a lot of noise, some sharp whistles, sounding a bit like police sirens, and loud laughing ones. I once saw a pelican fly pretty low over me while I was swimming. That was cool.

As far as trees go, there's all sorts of strange growth climbing over each other. I couldn't even go into explaining all of them. Lots of palm trees, which unlike the ones in Tucson belong here. At least they take care of themselves when a storm rips through them.

Supposedly the ocean is teaming with life as well. You can go snorkeling and see lots of colorful fish. Haven't gotten around to do much of that either. Plus, there is a place called Xel-Ha (pronounced Shell-A) where you can (for good money) swim with dolphins. How about that!? Just imagine: those lively sea-mammals have traveled here all the way from god knows where, just to take a swim with their human relatives. Yeah, right! And when finally they decided to go home, something just kept them from leaving...

So I'm not sure whether I really WANT to swim with dolphins. At least not in Xel-Ha.

Cycling by the traffic-rules -- August 7

I bought a bike! Yeah I know, for a few weeks it doesn't sound it's worth the deal, but it makes getting around here much easier. I payed 850 pesos for it, which is a good price judging from everybody's reaction. First I was going to rent one, but that would have cost almost as much, for the reminder of my time here. Plus, if that one had gotten stolen, I would have had to buy it. This way, I can sell it before I leave and get... like 50% of the money back. (I just might be that lucky...)

The bike itself is of course chopped down to the bare minimum. (So I guess I could call it a Chopper and feel cool about it.) All in all, it is the WORST bike I have ever owned. And if anyone is fortunate enough to know my beautiful rust-covered oldie I used to ride around on in Tucson, they'll know this is no exaggeration. The thing is called a "mountain-bike" here, which makes out 90% of bicycles in Playa. That is completely ridiculous, as the biggest hills in the area are the extreme sized speed bumps on bigger streets. But as big as the tires are, there is altogether ONE gear, no need to change. Also, it's missing other major ingredients, such as lights or a bell. Fortunately it has brakes, which don't stop you right away, but slow you down gradually before bringing the bike to a standstill. It gets you into the habit of calculating the stopping distance. However, the worst feature in my opinion are the bright blue and red colors, with shinny silver lettering, that scream: "I'M NEW!!! Please take me! The lock should not be a problem if you're a pro...," or something along those lines.

Talking about pros, they don't even need any tools any more to take your bike. A badge is more than sufficient. And those come in shapes of huge stars, which any Texas sheriff would envy. You see them driving around in a police pick-up truck with a few bicycles already loaded. If they like your bike, they stop you and explain that they've just witnessed you committing some sort of traffic violation, for which they have to seize your primitive vehicle immediately. If you want it back, you have to prove that you are worthy to partake in the sharing of the road, like all the other responsible travelers. In order to do so, you are asked to come in for a lecture that evening (costing the appropriate fee), and pass a written examination, which is more a test in official bureaucrat Spanish than in the rules of the road. With a bit of luck you can even regain your bicycle. Although if that is too much stress for you, and if you feel like supporting the diligent effort of the protectors of traffic safety with a generous donation, they might let you keep your bike. What should I say... this is Mexico.

Fortunately I didn't have to experience this on my own. It was told to me by one of the other German students, who broke the only real traffic rule that is in effect here: Not to be caught! For real... this place doesn't suffer from an overabundance of traffic-signs. There is an arrow next to each street-sign, indicating the (only) direction to be taken. Most motorized vehicles adhere to this rule too, at least the four wheeled ones. Other than that, you've got your occasional STOP sign, which says ALTO. I want to believe that means STOP, even though I've got a weird feeling that in fact it is saying something like: "Slow down, not so fast!"

Lanes as such are hard to distinguish. If there are two cars next to each other, it's obvious that there's supposed to be two lanes. I haven't seen any accidents though. Unlike in places such as Germany, people here watch out for each other. Otherwise it would be pure chaos.

But I think the only real danger are are the bike-catching cops with their pick-up. Once I saw them too. Remembering my house-mate's story, I took an immediate turn to get away from them... in the wrong direction of a one-way street. But they didn't seem to care. I guess they had their quota filled.

Full Schedule and Mexican Roulette -- August 3

I've been here for about half a week only, but my days are already planned out to the last bit. It doesn't sound too bad. Wake up at 6 am (no alarm, my eyes just pop open), go down to the beach, take a swim, return to the house, shower, and have breakfast: coffee and a bowl of corn-flakes with a banana - first I considered my host-mother stingy for it, and I was about to say: "Is that all?!?", but at that time my Español wasn't up to that level, so I didn't say anything. Now I don't even feel like eating more.

Then, around 8:45 I head off for school, where I have about an hour or so before my class starts. When I have nothing to prepare I hit the internet - like right now. In class we get lectured about the correct teaching procedure. Adjusting our language to the students levels, and emphasizing our instructions with body language I have no problem with. When it comes to organizing stuff, the importance of a lesson plan and such, are the things I have to work on. No impro teaching allowed here, which is what I became really good at in Hungary. Everything has to have a structure. That's what we are graded on.

We, that is a group of ten people from all over England, Scotland, New Zealand, and the US (plus myself from you know where). All of us are somewhere in our 20's with the same goals: teaching English while traveling the globe. According to our teachers the chances are quite good, and it's easy to find work. I never expected anything less. Just only gotta make it through the course (which isn't THAT hard, really.) In the evenings we can apply in practice what we've learned in the morning. The school offers FREE English lessons to locals, which in my opinion is what makes things most difficult. People don't have to pay, so they come whenever they want. Even if they DO make it to class, they arrive about 20 minutes late (not unusual for Mexico... or for Hungary for that matter). Our time, however is divided into clear sections, so we have to group and re-group them...

After class we usually go out for what we called the "One Beer Only Club". Sometimes we stay for a second... Prices are all right, even on the touristy 5ta Avenida we pay 15 pesos (1.5 USD) for one beer, so we rarely spend more than 50 pesos. Food is similarly cheap, but is a little bit more complicated. Not everything is gold that glitters, and the tastiest enchiladas can cause you the most fiendish diarrhea (or more...) The sea is right around the corner, so sea-food should be safe enough to eat. On the other hand, there are no fisher-boats anywhere, and the next fish-market is God knows where. 

On the first day I had lunch at a TRULY Mexican place, way beyond the tourist-miles. Plastic chairs and tables, old, faded parasols, and a strikingly working-class atmosphere were the main features that got me interested. In fact it looked like someone's yard with an open-air cooker. The only thing that distinguished it as a restaurant was a chalkboard with meals and prices on it. Since my host-family has their kitchen in their back-yard as well, I though it'd be nothing uncommon, so I went in and sat down. First they all looked at me like they'd never seen a gringo before, but the little old lady was very friendly. She took my order and made three quesadillas, with beans and a very spicy beef-stew inside, that couldn't be beat by any of the classy hotel-restaurants. On the side I had lettuce, tomatoes, sour cream, green and red salsa, and a huge cup of (admittedly watered down) papaya juice. Only much later did I learn that that's what they call an "agua de fruta".

For everything I payed 40 pesos including tip. Good deal! That evening I was told about the most gruesome stories of students who had come down with food-poisoning, Salmonella, E-coli, Hepatitis, etc, etc. so I consider myself lucky that the only thing I got from eating there were a few decent farts from the beans. Also, the guy who got the salmonella didn't even eat at the cheap places, but in one of the ritziest places on the 5ta. So what can I say? The wheel keeps spinning, risk is everywhere, anything can happen. And who knows, I just might try my luck again... those Quesadillas were tasty!

Arriving in Playa del Carmen -- July 30

For those who don't know, after having taught English in Hungary for two years, I've decided to become a teacher with some sort of qualification. Nothing less than the prestigious Cambridge CELTA. In order to get this certificate I signed up for a course, which I could have taken in Budapest as well. But where's the fun in that? So I picked the place with a more tropical climate, on the shore of the beautiful Caribbean Sea, in Playa del Carmen in Mexico.

Too good to be true? Maybe... Some people have lovingly referred to my description of it as a dump, including someone who happens to live and work on an actual dump. And I have to admit, on a closer look it might appear not so inviting. Especially now after the recent Hurricane "Emily" caused much devastation to the place: trees left naked, or completely blown over, houses set back into their pre-completed states, the streets lined with dead vegetation.. You get the picture. The people, however, appear rather relieved that it was "just wind" that turned their peaceful little town into a disaster-area. It could have been raining too! This is what I call healthy optimism!

But who cares about naked trees if there is a sea... Going out to take a swim at sunrise is the best routine I have developed (if you can call it that after being here for two days only). On the other hand, the early morning is the only time it's worth going to the beach. After nine am it starts getting so awfully hot that even sitting in the shade becomes an ordeal. Well, gotta get used to that. Thankfully my classes don't start until eleven am, lasting until nine pm with a long lunch-break. I still have to write more about school once I get to see it. Right now I still have an hour until my first class.

One more thing about the people, which also relates to the "dump" aspect: The place is almost divided into two parts: the Mexican ghetto part, consisting of shanty-towns of the most horrid kind (I know, this is brutal exaggeration, and there are probably much worse areas than what I have seen, but still...) The other part is a not-quite-finished, small framed Cancun-like tourist trap. The main tourist mile appears friendly and small-town like, but is hopelessly overrun with Americans, Germans, Italians, etc. who come for sun, sand, sea, sex, cerveza. Like my driver from the airport said: in about ten years this place is gonna be just like Cancun. I'd say fifteen, but you get the picture.

So where do I fit into this? Well, I'm staying with a host-family living in the area somewhere in between these two parts. They are Argentinians who, besides selling solar-cells, make a living mostly from renting out places for students who come to study Spanish (or in my case to learn to teach English). There are five of us students living there, and we all go to different schools. So far we haven't had too much contact. Two arrived yesterday from Germany and we went out for a few beers -- and Bratwürste! ;-)

Culture shock… is there such a thing? I didn’t think so, until I got a lecture about proper toilet-etiquettes at my host family. Take everything that you knew about wiping your ass, and ditch it (or flush it down the toilet!) In this part of the world, one must know that no matter how luxurious the facilities are, the pipes beneath them are extremely primitive. So much so, that any non-flushable objects, such as toilet-paper, would clog up the sewage pipes so bad that… well, don’t wanna go there.

For this reason, the paper belongs into the wastepaper basket. How disgusting is that? Well, I’ve read about such a thing in Che Guevara’s Motorcycle Diaries that he had been confronted with the same sort of things while using the baño in Chile. And he is right… it is nobody’s fault, simply lack of proper infrastructure. Fortunately, the more civilized toilets, such as the one at my host family, are equipped with a bidet. There you can wash you ass, so the paper is used to dry it off. That makes the act less repulsive, and in fact even refreshing…

Another aspect of the poor conditions of the water supply is that you can’t drink the tap-water. (Okay, you CAN drink it if you want, but it’s not recommended…) Also, there is no water-tower anywhere near, so people all have large (however limited sized) tanks on their rooftops. So, long showers are to be avoided.

Other than these water issues, which are all just a matter of getting used to, it is rather relaxed here. Okay, I haven’t started school yet. My room glows in a friendly shade of orange, with geckos clinging on the wall. So I don’t have to worry about insects bugging me.