Going Fresa -- November 16

Just before the end of the year, I have managed to hand over myself to the big corporate world. And I'm not kidding either. Yup, I know it's crazy, the world stands upside down: the best golfer is black, the best rapper is white, and David has become a tie-wearing strawberry. What's next?  So how could this have happened? Was it a setup? Can we explain it by one of the great conspiracy theories? Or was it plain, dumb luck? Well, as you might have known (and if not, I don't know where you've been all this time) I have been wanting to travel the world by teaching English. On my first stop in Hungary, it even seemed like it would be as romantic and adventurous as it sounds. In no time I found a school where I could teach without any paperwork whatsoever, a really friendly, relaxed, familiar atmosphere, and lots of private students on the side, which let me make more than just a decent living, but most of all the freedom to be my own boss and regulate my own schedule. Naturally I ended up filling up every single day of the week with work, and if someone asked for extra lessons I would still fit them in somehow. That was then. Now I am in Mexico, the second place I set out to conquer. Unlike in Hungary, I was gonna be a stranger in a strange land, so I armed myself with the best English teaching certificate I could find, the Cambridge CELTA, and set out to start my conquest in beautiful Oaxaca. The lack of opportunities, however, soon drove me to Mexico City, this crazy, frantic, fast paced, loud, violent, dirt infested, money hungry capital of Mexico. Talking about opportunities, it wasn't like there weren't any schools in Oaxaca. Some were actually willing to pay quite decent money. It's just that none of them could, would, or knew how to deal with the legal aspect of my stay. Bureaucracy in Latin America is seen as an art form, and it takes more than just the patience of a tortoise and the endurance of a cockroach to get what you want. In most cases you need to know the right person at the right desk, or at least have a lawyer who knows the tricks of the trade (which usually leads to bribing someone, but this way you can at least expect a result for it). Since I had none of these at my disposition, I went back to International House, the school where I'd gotten my CELTA to begin with. On the last day of the course in Playa del Carmen we were given a pep-speech of gargantuan proportions about how highly employable we were. It felt good seeing large sums of money on the board, and hearing statements like: "...if you show up with your CELTA, they might actually fire someone just to get you hired!" --Yeah, Right, I thought... Surprisingly, though, these tall promises were no exaggerations. Except that they didn't have to fire anyone, since two teachers were about to leave anyway. So now I am a part of International House, who was quite eager to take me under its wing. They gave me a one-year contract, with classes for 20-25 hours a week. They are offering Spanish courses, as well as other workshops for teachers to improve their teaching skills, all as part of the benefits package. They have apartments for rent in the better parts of town, which don't require deposits or local references, like every other landlord I've talked to. But best of all, their legal staff takes care of all my paperwork. I should have my work permit before January. What awesome service! Yet, I felt a bit uneasy about it. For one whole year (2006) I will live, speak and breathe International House. Should I decide to leave before, I will have to carry the legal fees of... some outrageous amount, impossible to pay, not worth thinking about. Do you know the song MOTHER by PINK FLOYD? I still can't get over thinking about these lines: Momma's gonna make all of your nightmares come true. Momma's gonna put all of her fears into you. Momma's gonna keep you right here under her wing. She won't let you fly, but she might let you sing. Momma's will keep Baby cozy and warm. Ooo Babe, Of course Momma's gonna help build the wall. Work itself is okay. Until I get my own classes in January, I will substitute for other teachers who... well, who aren't here for whatever reason. Most of our teaching doesn't take place at the school, but at the companies' offices. Our clients are all the big ones. Right now I'm teaching employees of Johnson & Johnson, Price Waterhouse Coopers, and some drug company, but others on the list are Disney, Coca Cola, Pemex and all the like. The dress code is dressy (shirt & tie) but it seems to reach out on the general lifestyle as well. Mexico City has no middle-class. There are huge strips of working class neighborhoods, kinda like Iztapalapa, where I'm living until I can move into the school's apartments in January, and there are upscale neighborhoods like Condesa and Polanco. There is not much in between, which means class is a much greater dividing factor than race. Talking about "working class" the emphasis is not so much on the work, but rather the class. People around here are seemingly proud to display a culture of rough-tough proletariat. Most businesses in my area are body-shops, tires, or other car related ones. The streets are lined with ancient gas-guzzlers from the US, that obviously haven't been driven for the past decades, yet at night you can see the craziest pimped out low-riders with neon-lights on the bottom, and extreme boxes pumping the bass in the back. On every street corner there are a multitude of tents selling the greasiest tacos and tortas (huge sandwiches), yet when I mention that I'd like to have a kitchen I get the weirdest looks. "Why?" they ask me, "Did you bring your wife too?" The western part of the city, especially the area where I teach is generally looked down on as "fresa". Fresa, meaning strawberry, is an expression denoting all those who don't belong to the upper 10,000 but are aspiring hard, at least in their appearance. The concept of fresa I got to know in the (Mexican) World Trade Center, where I went to see a movie and eat some sushi afterwards. It's crazy!!! Suits and ties are merely a start. As much as I'm not a fan of the low-rider culture, I can understand what the prols mean. These fresa people live what they wear. It all has to match: Not only with their shoes and their jobs, but with their cars, their hair, their watches, their cocktails, the outrageously expensive clubs they visit afterwards, and their opinions they have about what Hugo Chaves said about Vincente Fox. (This latter aspect is something I have no clue about. I only know that in Iztapalapa they said Chaves was right, even though he was Venezuelan, while among the freasas he was completely discredited.) What about the alternatives, though? What else is there? You might have heard about Coyoacan, a lovely, friendly, quieter part of town near the university. Its parks and squares, coffee shops and bakeries, and a generally relaxed atmosphere make it a perfect hangout for students and artists, hippies, revolutionaries and intellectuals. A middle class after all? Hardly. The place is not cheaper than the gated communities of Condesa or Polanco, except there are no guards with sub machine-guns "protecting" you. Plus there is no metro-station nearby, which makes it an exclusive neighborhood for exclusive car owners. So there I am... Even though I find the prols of Iztapalapa less judgmental and tend to sympathize with them, the world waiting for me is the other side of town. The school's apartment is near Chapultepec park, closer to the different company headquarters, surrounded by people who act like they're all that... Still, I will do all I can NOT to become a fresa myself. In any case, I will pull it all the way through, like I would anyhow. But only my way! 2006, I am ready for you!

On the Hills of Monte Alban -- October 16

After living in Oaxaca for more than a month, I finally got to see Monte Alban. This includes the touristic site of the ruins of Monte Alban just outside of the city, as well as the Colonia Monte Alban, of which tourists might get a quick glimpse from the bus, before turning their heads in shame and / or disgust. All in all I can describe the day as a beautiful, relaxed, and insightful family Sunday.

It all started with Minerva's question if I could help her two children with their English. She is the lady in charge of the food at the hostel. Of course I was interested, trying to supplement my rather meager schedule with whatever extra hours I could. After a long back and forth we agreed on a price that was bad for both of us. On my end I was selling myself way under value, she on the other hand had to work a whole day for the two hours of English. This alone showed me that we were coming from completely different worlds. Yet I accepted, as I needed the cash, and what was I gonna do on a Sunday morning anyway. When that day came, however, I ended up giving my classes for free, which I explained with the fact that I was going to relocate to Mexico City, and hence couldn't continue my lessons on a permanent basis. Minerva understood.

She picked me up at eleven in the morning, and we took the bus to her house in the Colonia Monte Alban. I have seen the shacks on the hills from the distance, but couldn't imagine that someone, who worked eight hours a day, six days a week in the kitchen of a hostel, would have to live in one of them. Fact is, she has to. But that is nothing to be ashamed of, and she never showed the slightest bit of discomfort, so I tried to do the same. It wasn't easy not to notice the bare concrete floor, the tin walls, the plastic bags that kept the rain from flowing in, and the large holes in the structure fixed with broken sheets of plywood. There were two rooms, one had two beds and some old chests and wardrobes in it, in the other one there was a table with some chairs. The kitchen consisted of a fire-pit and the only tap of running water. The bathroom was an outhouse in the yard.

Only two of the four kids in my class were actually Minerva's. The others were cousins, who lived not too far away. Their ages ranged from ten to eighteen, and some had been studying English for several years. My initial worry, that this might cause problems in teaching them successfully, was soon forgotten, as they all were pretty much on the same level: absolute beginners. After the first intensive practice they seemed to understand the difference between I am, You are, and She is. Meanwhile they all made the impression of bright and enthusiastic students. So what was the problem? How could these same kids have studied three or more years of English without any results whatsoever? The answer they gave me was deeply shocking: The ever present Mexican corruption.

It works something like this: The teacher in a public school gives the class a price-list for grades. For top marks you have to pay the teacher approximately as much as his paycheck is to begin with, which illustrates the incredibly low salaries of teachers. If you just want to get by you still have to pay a pretty steep amount. If you can't, or don't want to support this dirty business, you will be ignored all year round. This is exactly what has been happening to these kids ever since they entered school, which diminishes their likelihood of ever leaving the shacks of Monte Alban.

After our class Minerva suggested to take a walk to see the ruins, as I have never been there before. It wasn't far, about an hour from the city limits. On the way we picked up Minerva's sister, who was going to look for chapulines, and the ruins were a perfect place for that. Chapulines are Mexican grasshoppers that are sold at the market as a local delicacy. They are red, crunchy, and are prepared with limes and chillis. I could never imagine how they were collected, as the beasts, like decent grasshoppers, tend to flee from their predators. Well, there is nothing more to it than simply being quicker then them (if you don't come before sunrise when they are frozen stiff). Usually, however, a good eye is enough to spot them in the grass, then pick them up with your hands, and place them in an empty water bottle. This takes about ten seconds per grasshopper, but then again, we had the whole day and everyone was helping along.

On our excursion we didn't only collect chapulines, but all sorts of plants. Not only the adult women, but even the young girls had a vast knowledge of all the different plants. They got a kick out of overwhelming their teacher with pieces of info on how to use this grass or that herb. Some added a strong flavor to a soup, others kept a certain insect away (I guess the bedbug, but I'm not sure), still others were good against stomachache or wounds, or cramps. One of them was rather esoteric in nature, as it was used to clean one's aura. I felt a bit stupid not knowing any of these herbs, nor any herbs whatsoever (okay, there might be one I'm quite familiar with...) even though they could come in handy anytime. And I considered myself to be "educated".

The ruins of Monte Alban were nice. They were built by some ancient people, and had the usual temples, pyramids, ball-courts, palaces, etc. kinda like in Coba, Teotihuacan, the great Chicken Pizza, and all the others. This time they didn't really capture my excitement, as they were rather a nice backdrop for a crash course in botanic. It was much more memorable to run around chasing grasshoppers and eating wild herbs. After the bottle was almost full, we headed back home.

Minerva invited me for family supper, and as the day had been very friendly and familiar, I accepted. We went to her sister's house, where her mother lived, along with about ten other family members, under comparable circumstances. It was difficult to make out who lived where, but for Sunday Dinner all were gathered at the home of the old folks. It felt like Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, even though it was "just" a Sunday. There was lots of food, charbroiled meat, a strong soup, lots of tortillas called "tlayudas" (pure corn of course), a vegetable stew, and of course... Coca Cola! The tlayudas made up for the absence of any spoons, recalling the old Hungarian tale of eating your utensils! All in all it was a delicious meal. Only the Coca Cola didn't fit somehow. Why do poor people drink so much Coke? Does their meager diet require a higher sugar concentration in their drink? Or is it maybe the fact that the stores on the hill sell nothing but junk-food, and that it has the same price as water?

After dinner the grandmother asked the kids about all the plants we had collected, and they stuck them into a thick notebook which had many, many other ones in there already. Grandma made sure not to leave any of them out, and the granddaughters were eager to show off their knowledge about them. Grandma explained that this was their health insurance, since none of them could afford to seek medical help, or pay for expensive drugs. But with the herbs they could take care of themselves so much that they never had to go to the doctor. I believe there are certain ailments where a hospital can't be replaced, but on the whole most chemical drugs would be redundant if we just had the knowledge of plants that the people in the Colonia Monte Alban have.

Disaster News from Guatemala -- October 13

Right after my last entry (just about a month ago) I took a trip to the beautiful Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, mainly to get a stamp into my passport and to take a look at that wondrous place all the travelers seemed so enthusiastic about. In San Pedro I ran into three familiar faces from my CELTA course in Playa del Carmen, Mairi, Meredith and Neale. They were doing the most popular Atitlan thing, staying with a local family and taking Spanish classes. The story of the trip can be summed up like this: went there, hung out for a day, came back to Mexico. The detailed description is in my Hungarian blog, waiting to be translated.

A few weeks later Central America was hit by Hurricane Stan. Apart from heavy rains I didn't get to experience too much of it. (I might have mentioned something of it in my German blog. Some day I'll get to translate it too. ) Actually it was the news that brought it to my attention, that it was more than just simple rain we had to deal with. Death and devastation was being reported from everywhere: Guerero, Veracruz, Chiapas, the coast of Oaxaca, and even more from Guatemala and El Salvador.

Today I got the complete update on the situation from Meredith. They are fine, but it seems like they were right in the middle of the disaster. But read it yourself:

Well I hope you are all well at home and enjoying your creature comforts. For those of you who don't know, Hurricane Stanley has hit Guatemala with devastatingeffects. It was mainly El Salvador, the South ofGuatemala and Mexico Chiapas region that were hit. The area most affected in Guatemala was the LakeAtitlan region. We were staying in the Lake Atitlan region!

So, we've been living in San Pedro de Laguna by LakeAtitlan for the last four weeks. We're off season anyway so its been cloudy most afternoons and rains almost everyday for an hour or two. Anyway, 10 days ago (Sunday) the rains started again and we thought nothing of it. Monday morning, still rain, thought nothing of it! Electricity went down Monday morning, thought nothing of it! Monday afternoon still no electricity and the rain is getting heavier, it has now rained for 24 hours non stop. Still had classes and moaned about the weather! Tuesday the rain continued and became heavier, no wind luckily, managed to struggle through Spanish class and then headed to the local pub to discuss the weather with everyone! Stuggled home in some of the worst rain I have ever seen. The streets were rivers and the streams into the lakes were now torrents. Tuesday night the storm attacked with a vengence. Neale woke up to the curtain in our room blowing up against the ceiling and 4 inches of water on the floor. He quickly rescuedall our bags, books and shoes from the floor and put them onto the only table we had in the room. Neal, Rene and Rosario of our family spent most of the night sweeping water out of the house and down thestairs to avoid anymore flooding. I slept through it!!!!

Wednesday morning, still raining! Spent most of the time tidying up the house and struggling through the streets to get to shops for food and water. San Pedro wasn't that badly affected. There was a lot of water and the Lake continued to rise, but the town itself had little damage and most people were fine. News started to come in about the other towns around the lake, especially Santiago and San Marcos where whole areas had been swallowed in the landslides that had swept through in the middle of the night. The whole area around the lake is really fertile land, but it is also very steep so heavy rainfall results in landslides and with the amount of rain that we'd had for the last 4 days meant that half the mountainside slid into the town! San Marcos lost two schools and hundreds of homes, Santiago lost the area the size oftwo football pitches! Its estimated over 1500 died inSantiago. Over 2000 refugees flooded into San Pedro for help with food and clothing, so many people were displaced! Luckily San Pedro was the least hit with problems and so could help the other towns. San Pedro is built on the rocks where as the other towns are built into the moutainside. Thank goodness for St Peter!

All the while we were fine, no real problems in San Pedro and our family were fine. The rain didn't actually stop until Thursday where once again the dogs started to bark! For once we were pleased to hear the buggers barking all day long!

Spent Thursday night looking after the kids in our family as the parents headed out to find food! There had been no chicken, meat or eggs for a few days and even the beans were running low! They came back two hours later with more cornflakes and UHT milk than you can shake a stick at and pot noodles! No food in thevillage! Any food that was available had doubled in price, talk about kick people when they're down!

Anyway, everyone pulled together and we were living quite happily even though there was no electricity and the water supply was getting low so no showers, and flushing the toilet became limited! Rene (familyfather) put out buckets and bins to catch all the rainwater so we could use that for washing and flushing! Rosario (mother) even started the fire to boil water so we could all have hot water for our washes. The gas was getting low and so she went back to the traditional wood fires for cooking. The problem wasn't that we were in danger or hurt or sick or hungry, the problem was that all the roads around SanPedro had been cut off due to the landslides and so no supplies were getting into town. We still had clean water to drink and pot noodles to eat, but weren't quite sure when deliveries of proper food were goingto start coming in. There were rescue missions heading out to Santiago and San Marcos where people were digging out the schools and hospitals. The problems were only just about to begin, during the storm you stay inside and hope for the best, its afterwards that the problems start. The clear up, the food and water supply, the transport and electricity systems, and worst of all help for the sick and medical supplies.

By now the rain had more or less stopped, only light showers in the afternoon and we'd been without electricity for 5 days. The lake had risen by 4 foot in 4 days. This is a huge lake, I can't begin to imagine how much water that is! As I said before, luckily for us we were in the safest town in the Lake area and very few people had died or lost their homes. There was lots of talk about when the roads would open, when electricity would come back on, when we'd get some access to money as the banks couldn't give out money on ATM cards as no electricity to authorise withdrawal! Luckily I had a few American ExpressTravelers Cheques which we cashed and paid for food etc with. Didn't want to run up bills in case the problems persisted for another week!

All the tourists were discussing the situation, what we could do to help, how the hell are we going to get out of here etc etc. On Saturday quite a few people decided to risk taking the boat over to Panahachel, which is the main tourist town on the lake where all the transport out of the area leaves from. We decided to stay until Monday then head over to Pana, get some cash, come back to San Pedro and leave mid week when the rush and panic was over.

Anyhow, Sunday comes, raining again! Have lunch with the family and the electricity comes back on. We were overexcited about the electricity and rushed down to the dock where there are lots of tourist places, internet cafes etc. Email was on, hurrah, emailed home in a hurry as hadn't had any communication for over a week and we weren't sure how much you all knew about the problems we were having. We either thought that the news at home would be awful and everyone would be worried, or you wouldn't have heard ofHurricane Stan and wonder what the hell we're talkingabout!!!

Went home for lunch, as you do, and another student staying in our homestay came in and said there was a women representing the embassys on the dock insisting all the tourists leave! We weren't quite sure what to make of it as there had been a few people running around in a panic making matters worse by telling everyone they're going to die!!! So, we finished our lunch, of course, and thought we'd check the situationout ourselves. Got to the dock and sure enough there was a representative from various embassys on a RESCUE MISSION!!!! What?! I've never been rescued before! She was adamant that all the tourist should leave as the clean water supply is getting low, food supply is becoming a problem, the roads are still cut off and the towns around (Santiago and San Juan) are beginning to have problems with disease and this is your one and only chance to be resuced!!!! Well, she had quite a convincing argument! We hadn't realised how bad the situation was in our little homestay with our family, eating pot noodles and watching the rain! No news and no communication really cuts you off from the rest ofthe world!

Well, we left on the rescue boat! It was all very rushed and quite emotional as 30 mins before we'd been eating lunch with our family, now we were packing our bags and saying goodbye. We said goodbye to the kids and managed to get a few quick photos. Gave Rene and Rosario a hug and said goodbye, Rosario then proceeded to cry which started me off and then almost started Neale and Rene off!!! We'd had a great four weeks with them and it all seemed so hurried that we didn't get a chance to have a last meal, last weekend, last class, anything! Plus I think for Rosario the fact that the tourists were being escourted out of town made the problems seem more real as her and her family were being left behind to deal with all the problems and we were being wisked away! We felt like we were abandoning a sinking ship and it wasn't a nice feeling to think that we were being resuced and they weren't!

Majority of those tourists left left, only about 20 ofus, met by the dock for our evacuation! The embassy rescue staff are there to take us to Panahachel by boat and then overland to Guatemala City. Boat heads out and its so low in the water you're almost swimming! The lake water is so high and the further into the lake you get the more you can see all the brown scratches down the mountainside where the landslide has just ripped through the green woodland. Get into Pana and the rescue staff take us to the nicest hotel we have been to in the last 3 months! It had a swimming pool and everything! We were shown to a conference room which was to be our accommodationfor the evening! Everyone gathered chairs togetherand laid across them or just on the floor, we were refugees!!! Left early the next morning for our trip to Guatemala City... First mode of transport was an army truck, soldiers and all, to the next main town, Solarlar. There had been a major landslide and roadaccess in and out of the area had been cut off. However, you could walk across the landslide to the clear road on the otherside. So, army truck to landslide where we unloaded got on our backpacks andwalked across the landslide to the clear road on the other side, where a mini van picked us up and took us up to the town. Crossing the bridge where the landslide had been was humbling, they had already cleared a lot of the mud and rocks by the time we were there as they had been working on this road link for two days. However, you could still see thedevastation. The bridge is too weak to cross by car so the supplies are being driven in on one side, unloaded, physically carried over by Guatemalans, and then loaded onto a truck the otherside. They are carrying over sacks of rice, huge containers of water, sugar etc, unbelievable strength. It made you realisethat there is actually a huge problem and supplies are low and it will be ages until the roads are back up, power is stable and phone lines work again. We wereso lucky to be in San Pedro.

Once we'd been collected on the clear side we were taken by bus to Guatemala City. The whole route was covered with landslides that were being cleared, farmers trying to save what was left of their crops, villages trying to salvage anything left over. The whole of the South of Guatemala was affected.

Arrived in Guatemala City and put into a hall awaiting our embassadors and believe it or not we were providedwith a Chicken Sandwich and chips from Burger King for our rescue mission meal!!!!! Burger King?!!!!

Anyway, after our fulfilling meal of cold chips and chicken sandwich we had to register with the British Embassy. Nice chap, all he did was take our name and gave us a smile!!! Everyone was the same, apart from the American desk, who not only had a desk twice the size as everyone else, but also had managed to find a flag to drap over it. You can never be too far from the stars and stripes!! The American guys on our bus were a little embarrased, its like having your mum meet you at school and she fusses whilst everyone else is leftalone!! I jest, but the American embassador had brochures, directories, anything to help those arriving (if you were American!) she even had a phone that they could use to ring home. When we asked ourchap about using his phone to call home he said he had no reception?!!! Our American pals were on the phone so perhaps he should join that network in future!!!

A couple of cups of coffee later we were given a choice of either heading to Antigua which is a colonial town in Guatemala on the tourist trail and very nice actually... or finding our own way North! Easiest route possible for us please!!! We hopped onto the Antigua bus and arrived safe and sound 45mins later on Monday night!

So, at the end of that huge story we are fine! We're in Antigua enjoing the luxuries of electricity and food! There are some fantastic restaurants here! After all our troubles we splashed out on a more expensive room than normal and went to a lovelyItalian restaurant for homemade pizza and red wine!!! Its the most expensive meal we've had since we've beenaway!!! Well worth it! We've moved to cheaper digs now that we've recovered!

We keep bumping into people from San Pedro who were evacuated before us or who were the last ones out, and we are really pleased we got on the boat. We nearly didn't as we wanted to stay with our family for awhile, but in hindsight its the best thing we could do. I feel quite selfish and sometimes feel like we just jumped ship, but we were given one chance of a rescue and now we're getting proper news in Antigua. The doctors are saying that they are worried about disease and outbreaks of dengue fever. We've been told we couldn't volunteer unless we have proof of all our jabs as some areas run risks of tetanus, cholera, dengue etc. So, we're going to buy some supplies and donate them to the local collection points. The main supplies needed are nappies, insect repelent and anytype of medicine plus anything else you can give. Its quite shocking really! You just don't realise the devastation these natural disasters leave.

We're not sure where we're heading next. We are meeting friends of ours in Mexico in 2 weeks for a holiday. I can't wait to get by the beach and enjoy the sun. No more rain for a while please! I hope you're well at home. I also hope not to send you another disaster email on our journey!Take care and email if you get a chance. We're backin the land of the living!!!

Love M

Independencia -- September 16ish

I got myslef a chamba (job)! I knew I would turn out to be a Cambridge Man... more because of my CELTA rather than actually setting a foot into Cambridge. But now there seems to be something else: The school I just started teaching for is called the Cambridge Academy. It is a language school with a friendly, relaxed atmosphere. I'll be teaching beginners ages 13-16 on Saturdays, so who knows whether I'll get to have some of that friendly, relaxed atmosphere in my classroom. But we'll see... can't be that bad. Pay is okay. 

It seems like I'm in the fifty pesos club. Fifty pesos (somewhere under 5 US-Dollars) is what I pay for a night, as well as what I spend on a day for food. At the same time it is also what I get paid for an hour of work. Comparatively, my worst paid job ever(!!!) but with these standards certainly something to get by on. Unfortunately it is only one class I get to teach in a week, so there is still lots of slots in my schedule to be filled up. But first of all I want to celebrate.Getting a job is one thing, but hey: WE'RE INDEPENDENT!!! (finally)

Mexican Independence is something not to be missed! A national holiday, yet it is celebrated in anticipation, like Christmas, Mardi Gras, or New Years. The actual holiday was on Friday, but you couldn't find an occupied office even on Wednesday. On Thursday we started out with a fiesta at the hostel, then went out to meet the crowd in the streets. Two constants at the hostel, Carlos and Ixmana, a Mexican couple dedicated to teach visitors life as it's supposed to be lived, had all of us throw together 50 pesos (there again) to get beer, mescal, cook lots of food, and throw an independence party that is still searching for its equal.

When I got back from teaching my sub-lesson, the kitchen was decorated with green-white-red banderas, and the food was just being served. The name of the soup was pozole, and there was lots of it, plus salad, and a load of spices for self-seasoning. It was so amazing: almost like a freak-show version of an American Thanksgiving. We had about 30-40 people sitting at a long table, half of which Mexicans, the others from Germany, USA, Canada, Slovenia, Kenya, Israel, Hungary, etc. having dinner, beer, and vibrant conversations. Later the mescal was being passed around, along with a few joints. Not surprisingly, the general mood reached a new peak. But then it got even better.

After all, Mexicans know how to party. Another influential group from Mexico City, four girls and a guy, rocked the party. They had previously attracted attention to themselves by playing cards on the roof while bursting out in loud laughter. At the mother of all parties, however, they made sure that everybody danced, even those who had previously thought they couldn't. (Man, how could anyone NOT want to dance at such an occasion.) Mescal, Salsa, Beer, Merengue, another Merengue, and back to Salasa, more beer, and another dance. You could hear people yelling from outside, accompanied by loud shots (only firecrackers...) so our group decided to finish the beer and dance to only one more song (or two), and head out.

Outside the atmosphere was something like a mix of New Years in Amsterdam and First of May in Berlin. Colors, excitement, smoke, lights flashing, things exploding, people laughing, horns honking. People were lighting firecrackers left and right. Kids were running around, spraying shaving-ream on everyone. It wasn't even late, 10:30 only, but it felt like the peak was just ahead.

We walked down to the Zócalo, the center square, where the crowd got so thick it was hard to stay together. On a stage a band was playing, people were moving to the music even though the crowd prevent you from actually dancing. Then around eleven the real (professional) fireworks were lit. Above the church the sky exploded in different colors, which went on forever. And still, there was more to come...

Around midnight (actually, it was much later than that, but we're in Mexico, right) the President (actually the mayor or maybe the governor of the state) stepped out on the balcony, and held a flaming speech. In fact, President Fox might have said some powerful words himself, but who wants to watch TV, when you can actually stand under a balcony where a fat guy yells with all his might into a microphone, and you still can't make out the words because of the loud cheering and clapping around you. I don't even think he was that popular, but hey, what can you do on the Day of Independence?

The celebration was just too powerful to escape from going with the crowd. As I was trying to interpret el presidente, while considering my current situation here in Oaxaca, I suddenly realized what made those people cheer so much. The guy took the opportunity to say whatever needed to be said, not matter the losses. Whatever he said, it had to be something along these lines:

"Dear Friends, Compadres, and other Mexicans! Today we are celebrating our Independence. Independence from outside forces, who tried to limit our freedom to do as we please. Indeed, they tried. But they failed. Failed miserably, because in the long run you cannot defeat the ever striving Mexican spirit for the right to have a kick-ass celebration, followed by a holiday, followed by a long weekend. We -- and I mean all of us out here -- are truly Mexicans, if we just want to be. So go ahead, and raise the Red-White-Green and be proud. Because a paper, or the lack thereof, has never stopped anyone from living out his independence! And where else could we live it out, than right here in our beautiful country. VIVA MÉXICO, CABRONES!!!"

After these truly heart-warming words, I couldn't help but scream "Viva México!" along with everyone else, and go on celebrating my independence, as well as my starting life as a Mexican, just like I had up to then, but with much more intensity. Eventually all good things happened, and it turned out to be a party that'll be remember for quite a while.

Typical Case of Mañana -- September 9

Déja vu... It's Friday again, and still no jobby-job on the horizon. 

Or what am I saying? I've gotten soooo many offers I can't even believe it. Mostly, however, they are just other rejections, expressed in the agreeable Mexican way of "well, maybe". Generally they are amazed at the fact that I can (theoretically) teach German. There I am with an expensive and reputable CELTA certificate, yet nothing for German, and they want me to teach German.

Picture that, a German class... how exciting! But they'll have to organize and advertise a class first. By the way, do I happen to have any German textbooks with me, cause they don't have any... but it would be great! And English? No, nothing for English teachers, sorry... At one university they are willing to give me a German class on Saturdays, but first they have to get over their change of administration. Right now nothing is certain, I should stop by tomorrow...

The other thing I keep hearing is that I'll need an FM3, if I don't have one yet. Can the University help me to get one? No, sir. I'm just realizing how unusual it was for the UMAR to do that. So I have started looking into the requirements for it. So far it seems overwhelmingly complicated, along with the classic run-around: The universities send me to the government office, they send me back to the university. In between I find out that my certificate and my degree needs an "apostilla" which must be something like authenticate it. But mostly I keep hearing "mañana, mañana, proxima semana..."

So I'll have one more weekend for chilling out. But now it doesn't bother me that much any more. I found a place to stay at the Hostal Santa Isabel. Sure the place is on "travelers' standard", that is "Mexican travelers' standard" to be exact, but it only costs 50 pesos a night if I stay for a month. On the other hand, the youth hostel is a place for all kinds of interesting people and minds. Many peace-watchers on the way to, or returning from, Chiapas. Others are regular backpackers from France, Italy, Germany, the Basque country and the US. A lot from Switzerland. Some of them are thinking of staying longer, learning Spanish in Guatemala, or volunteering in Chiapas. Others are long-time travelers from way up North, or down South, making and selling jewelry, playing music, etc. The kitchen is a constant place of community, people preparing food, hanging out, etc. Somehow it is reminiscent of Tucson, with a little more Mexican touch in it. For a while certainly not a bad place.

Just yesterday I tried to make a Hungarian lecsó (a tomato based stew with lots of paprika, onions, and eggs and hot sausage in it) which turned out to be PICANTISSIMO! I ended up using what looked like the plain white peppers I knew from Hungary... only that these so called chiles gueros were a lot spicier. It wasn't bad though. The Mexicans liked it, the others not so much. The chorizo, however, was completely what a good lecsó needed, and it is safe to say that it's easier to make a good lecsó in Mexico than in Germany.

Alone the market is crazy. Kinda like a mix of a rich food-market (meat, fish, dairy, fruit and vegetables of an insane variety), a clothing market like the Chinese markets in Budapest, plus anything and everything that human mind can conceive: Raw leather, toilet-bowls, tools of all kinds, handicrafts and souvenirs, hard liquor, music, plus everything else. On the outskirts it still looks like a classic "market" with space in between the stands. Moving closer, however, one finds himself in a maze of densely packed goods, where every square inch is utilized. On the top several layers of plastic creates an illusion of being indoors. The stands are all so similar in appearance, that it's impossible to relocate one after you've left it behind. At least for the market-novice. Nevertheless, the quality of the goods seem to be okay, and as far as prices go, they are unbeatable!

So I guess I will go ahead and pay a visit there again, to get something for dinner tonight. Don't know what I want to cook yet, but I'm sure it'll be tasty.

Rejected! -- September 1

Today I climbed a mountain, swam around an island, and caused some deep impressions on the Director of the English Department at the Universidad del Mar, which I wouldn't have thought possible. Nevertheless, I am still unemployed, and trapped in Puerto Angel for the rest of the week. 

What happened really? Well, after traveling for three days, I finally made it into this tiny nest, called Puerto Angel, where the campus of the UMAR is located. From different sources I have heard that it's an awesome place to live and a wonderful place to work. They pay more than just a decent salary, take care of the costs of the immigration-procedure, and they are even hiring at this moment. Sounds too good to be true? Well, none of these rumors turned out to be false. Yet...

So I got up this morning to show my best looking face to my prospective employer. I showered, shaved, took my best clothes to the nearest (the only) lavenderia in town to have them ironed. After being told that they didn't have the required equipment, and in fact it's pretty hard to find an iron in the nearer vicinity, I took them back and decided that they weren't that badly wrinkled for a job-interview. I took a cab to the University, and started looking for the English department.

It wasn't hard to find, and the Director even had time to talk to me. She seemed very interested to begin with, said that there were four(!) openings at the moment, and when I mentioned CELTA she got seemingly excited. I couldn't believe it. This was exactly what they had predicted us on the last day of the course. Immediately she got into explaining what kind of documents I would need for my FM3 (the work permit), and that the University was certainly going to arrange all the paperwork for me.

'Something is fishy,' I was thinking to myself. This was going WAAAAY too smoothly. And I proved to be right. I was told I had to look somewhere else when she discovered my citizenship. GHHRRR!!! I'm still SOOO pissed at this! The University has a policy not to hire anyone who is not a citizen of an "English-speaking country." So we both were really sorry about this, she even apologized for assuming I was from Ireland. Yeah I know, I have this slightly repressed Irish twang(!)

English speaking country, my sunburned behind! Whatever is that supposed to mean? I guess the USA is out of question as it refused to declare an official language. Anyone from Barbados on the other hand would be welcome, as it is without a doubt English speaking. I guess I'd have more chances of employment if I was from Ghana! Of course I tried to convince her that I was from an English speaking part of Germany (not entirely incorrectly, meaning the American occupied zone), but she took it as a humorous attempt on my side to deal with rejection. I even asked her if I could be hired as a German teacher, teaching English on the side. I'm sure she would have, if there had been at least a German department. There is French one -for what I don't know- and they are working on a Chinese department, but no German.

Oh, well. Anyway, this is how things have gone. So after my fruitless consultation I decided to go back to Oaxaca and visit the universities there. But that has to wait until Sunday, as we're almost in the weekend anyway. If I hit the road first thing next morning, I'll get there Friday late afternoon. So I might as well stay by the ocean, in this tourist village that has seen its better days a long time ago. I've got everything here: cheap sea-food, an awesome surf, a supposedly nude-beach, which is just as nude as the main beach: devoid of people. The only thing it lacks are tourist. I just might be the only one right now. Feels kinda sweet after Playa del Carmen.

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.