Smells of Oaxaca

Elliott is very attuned to his sense of smell. He asks what odors are a lot (and there are a lot of them in Mexico), and he says aloud if something smells good or bad. He'll often say "I smell [insert person's name]" when he passes by their house or a place that has a fragrance he associates with them.

When we arrived in Hierve El Agua on Sunday, we stepped off the flatbed truck, walked a hundred feet on the dirt, and started down the path to the springs. Elliott cried out, "Mommy, what is that smell? It smells so good here. I like it!"

I knew the aroma - from my youth. It's probably been three decades since I smelled it. It was the unmistakable olfactory experience of the high Sierras - air so fresh that it carries the faintest whiff of pine resin from a single tree a hundred feet away and the rising warmth from the sun-baked earth.

"That's the smell of nature, my love. And I'm sorry you've never smelled it before."

[Insert onslaught of modern, hippy parental guilt here.]

Hierve El Agua Tres

And in this one you can see the cliffs and the pools from the next ridge over, as well as some of the mineral deposits running down the side of the cliffs that the place is famous for. And allegedly one of only two places like it in the world.

Hierve El Agua dos

In this one, you can see some of the spring-fed pools on the side of the cliffs, which were amazing to swim in for all five minutes that I could handle the cold cold waters.

Hierve El Agua

It was a pain to get to, between the bus ride to Mitla and the 40 minute ride on dusty bumpy winding mountainous roads in the back of a pickup truck, but once we got there it was truly an amazing sight like nothing I have ever seen. Here's one photo.

Agua

Each Wednesday and Saturday, the water guy comes by and swaps out an empty for a new 20-liter plastic bottle of quadruply-filtered water. They're the size that you use in an office water cooler. We go through exactly two of these a week, filling up smaller water bottles to carry with us, for drinking, cooking, and teethbrushing. This doesn't include showering, washing dishes or clothes, or any water used in cooking food that we buy preprepared. It's interesting to know that our little family of three consumes 40-liters of water a week, or a little more than 5 liters a day. It costs us 50 pesos, or around $5, a week.

Ready for School

It doesn't look like uniforms are going to come in time for us to feel like its worth spending the money for them. In the meantime, 3/4 of E's pants now have holes in the knees. At the Soriana last night, we picked up some clothes that resemble the uniforms. The other kids wear white or gray polos with navy blue pants. Confirming people's comments, he wears a size 6 here. E was excited about new clothes - a fashionisto through and through - so agreed to a photo shoot before school. Can you believe what a little man he is?

The Pyramid Next Door

Last weekend, we traveled to El Mogote, because we thought E would enjoy an archeological site. At first it seemed the little community museum would disappoint, but we surveyed the 3-d map of the area and determined that the mount, ie pyramid, was just behind the building we were in. We walked past the church, guys playing on the basketball court, up a dirt alley, past the elementary school, said hi to some chickens and a horse, and climbed up a 2,000 year old mound. It had a stunning view of the valley, and E was exhilarated, running around shouting that he was "king of the world." It is the only one of the 8 mounds that has been restored, but that doesn't seem to stop it from being pasture for various animals. It was covered with all variety of manure.

Home away from home away from home

One of the places I've been working while here...

A Bugs Life

For a few days last week, this guy was living on a plant just outside our apartment door. We just noticed him one evening and he didn't seem to move at all for several days. But then he disappeared as quickly as he showed up.

For the Record

Since this is a journal of our trip, I wanted it to be included here that it's been two weeks that we've been anxious about how little time we have left and plotting cockamamie schemes for how to stay longer.

Meal Planning

K: "Would you like a sandwich for lunch today?"
E: "No."
K: "How about a torta, con quesillo y aguacate?"
E: "Si, por favor."

My new hairstyle

As the curls are growing in, I'm testing out this look - up off the forehead instead of the pixie I was attempting before.

Color Coding

One of the reasons we were so keen to come to Mexico as a family was to give E the experience of being in the majority ethnicity. I'm hoping that he feels some sense of belonging and connection, laying down some subconscious experience of a world where his color is the norm.

At home, he rarely discussed skin color or feeling different. I tried to bring it up every once in a while, in service to the revelations of Nurtureshock and my other readings on transracial adoption. For example, when we were in Mexico two years ago, I asked two-year-old E if he noticed that everyone had brown skin. He looked at me blankly. (In a similar conversation, we learned that he was oblivious to the fact that people were speaking a different language.)

This time, I pointed out (casually, I hoped) the same phenomenon in our first week here. And it was like a light went on. He started mentioning how people, especially children, have brown skin like him. At a park, he described two, young Anglo women with "They're visiting. They have white skin." (Not my favorite terminology, as I'd like to avoid the white/black race dichotomy at this point. "Light" skin is problematic too, as I think it leads into the whole colorism problem. I'm trying to say "pale" as a prompt.)

Now I'm noticing that he lists brown skin as the one of the first attributes to describe himself. (He may put boy first, I'm not sure.) I over hear D and E  playing some silly game - D asks "Are you my son?" E says "Does your son have brown skin?"

What a change this is! What fortunate timing for us to be back in Mexico when he was developmentally ready to incorporate this information about his identity.

But it also leads to harder thoughts: that identity development requires this kind of external mirror. How important it is for us to connect him with role models, mentors, and peers of color. Should we choose the more-diverse bilingual elementary school, even if it has other drawbacks?

Senor de Esquipulas

A big chunk of our weekend was taken up by the festival that our neighborhood church (which I say despite the fact that there are at least a half dozen large cathedrals within a five block radius of our house.  But this was one of them) was throwing in celebration of the Senor de Esquipulas, often referred to as the Black Christ.  This is an important and meaningful celebration throughout central America, which you can read about here, but being the heathen that I am I viewed it mostly as a chance to soak in more Mexican culture and traditions.  And this festival was full of them.

Friday night we went to the church in time to hear the end of mass and then watch the churchyard erupt into celebration with music and dancing and chocolate to drink.  We then joined in a calenda, which is a celebratory procession following a truck with the black Christ statue on its back through the streets of the neighborhood, with fireworks and music and giant puppets and dancing.  It was lots of fun.

Sunday afternoon we wandered back over to the church for a cultural festival featuring dance performances from different regions, food, and lots more live music.  E even got to take a turn inside one of the giant puppets:

But the highlight was Sunday evening.  After dinner and some rest at home we returned to the church and watched another procession with the statue, but this one was much more solemn, with quieter music and incense and lots of banners decorated with silver.

 

When the statue returned to the church, the whole place turned back into a party with confetti and more music and dancing.  And a fireworks show.

I know what I said the other day about how fireworks shows were more casual here in Oaxaca, and for the most part I stand by it.  But last night was the exception that proves the rule, as it was just like an American fireworks spectacular in scope, but not in content.  You see, when we arrived at the church on Sunday afternoon we saw what already looked like a pretty big structure covered with firecrackers.

But that was nothing compared to what it looked like later in the evening:

I would guess it was fifty or sixty feet tall.  And covered with firecrackers decorated as words and flowers and Guadalupes and a Christ figure.  And when it was time for the show, it was indeed quite a show.  There was dancing -- including a series of people dancing in a cow costume that was covered with firecrackers that were shooting off while they were dancing! -- and there were angels made out of firecrackers that flew into the air as they were going off.  And there was that structure itself.  Which did not actually seem quite this scary when it was doing its thing, but still sent smoke and debris and sparks everywhere.

I'm not sure I have seen anything quite like this show.  The closest thing would be at a festival that Fort Worth held in conjunction with the 1995 MLB All-Star game, but that had those pesky safety standards that Americans seem to hold dear, whereas this was just lights and colors and noise.  And smoke.  Lots of smoke.  It was quite an event.

Hmm

One reason to live in a foreign country is to experience new things. And for the most part Oaxaca has not disappointed. Especially when it comes to culinary experiments, where I have almost never been let down by a meal.

But that chicken stuffed with cheese in banana sauce...Huh. I'm not sure about that one.

Gunpowder and sky

One of the things about Oaxaca is that there are a lot of fireworks. A lot. In my experiences in the US, fireworks typically mean a big event -- the Fourth of July or a carnival or something -- and they come in big elaborate shows, often with synchronized music. Not here. Pretty much every evening there are fireworks somewhere around town, and they often come in very short bursts. An explosion here, an explosion there. Sometimes on a weekend, sometimes just on a Tuesday afternoon. Sometimes it seems to be at a party or a church, but other times it is just kids playing in a park.

At first, my inclination when I heard fireworks was to run outside and watch the show or to try to figure out what the event was that was inspiring them. But over the last few weeks I have realized this is a futile effort. By the time you look up the show is likely to be over, and who knows when the next explosion will be. I am slowly getting used to this and realizing that I should just enjoy the lights when I see them and not worry about the ones I am missing because there will be some more soon.

There's probably a deeper life lesson there, but I'm just going to go back to my taco now.

Breakfast Taco

This morning on my walk into the institute I walked by a group of women set up at a comal outside a church selling tacos. They were making fresh tortillas out of masa, cooking them up and then putting some beans, onions, cilantro, salsa, and either chorizo or a chile relleno inside before cooking them some more. I tried one with a chile relleno, and it definitely hit the spot.

Earthquake!

Really! At the end of my yoga class this morning, we were all seated on the ground for meditation, and we all felt the temblor. It was awesome and profound, not scary at all. In that moment, I realized I had been subconsciously hoping to experience an earthquake while we were here. When I checked the news, it turns out there have been several earthquakes in the 5-6 range since we've been in Oaxaca. I guess we just need to start paying attention.

Verde Oaxaca

I've been so impressed with the quotidian environmentalism here. Of course, there are gaps, but it's amazing how common many "green" approaches are here.

Our apartment is designed to get natural light during the day, and every single lightbulb - everywhere - is compact flourescent.

Everything is reused, from plastic grocery bags (as trash bags) to airplane tires (in the soles of my sandals). The crutches that we use in the US simply aren't available - you can't buy plastic wrap or throwaway sandwich bags here. Only reusable containers are in stores. Traditional holdovers - like a cloth to hold your tortillas - are even more environmental options - replacing the paper the tortilleria wraps their wares in.

I've long admired the way Mexicans repair anything mechanical. Whenever another blender breaks, I lament that I don't have a Mexican one from the 70s - and an hombre to repair it. This trend is reflected in our apartment. The microwave is from the 80s, the refrigerator from the 70s.

Also, cars here are so old - the kind you only see in California. Seriously, were Datsuns huge sellers here in the mid-70s? Or did all the old Datsuns migrate down here?

ACK!

I don't think I ate a mango yesterday! And it seems too long since I ate an avocado. Must remedy this situation ASAP.

Enfrijoladas

Seriously, why is it that you can get enchiladas at every mexican restaurant in the US but I dont think I have ever seen enfrijoladas (or entomadas or enmoladas...). They are relatively easy to make and soooooo yummy.

If Jeffrey Pilcher ever comes back to Gburg, I'll have to ask him if he has a theory.

Living The Dream

My day today:

* Wake Up
* Help E do a maze for his math homework
* Play ball with E
* Walk E the two blocks to school through the quaint little park around the corner
* Come home and catch up on email and read the two Timeses (NY and Gettysburg)
* Go to coffeeshop a few blocks away and read some math papers while drinking really good local coffee.
* Go to the zocalo and eat an empanada with yellow mole right off the comal
* Spend several hours doing math in my office at IMATE, both by myself and with my collaborator. Prove a lemma.
* Go to the big market and buy fresh produce and breads on the walk home.
* Play with E some more
* Watch cartoons while eating a nice salad and chips and salsa homemade by K
* Read a book to E at bedtime
* Read a novel and catch up on things like...er...blogging.

Why can't I be on sabbatical all the time?

Finally

I managed to get to a yoga class today, thanks to D doing the duties of taking E to school. I'm hoping to take E this afternoon for a class. It was hard, a good way to get the blood pumping on Monday morning. I realized how tight my feet are, from all of the walking we are doing.

My lack of new shoes

Much like Kay, I was also very excited about buying new sandals when we went to the Abastos market yesterday. In fact, after three hours of meandering around the market randomly, Kay and E were ready to go home but I said we should push back in and look for the sandal makers, as we had yet to find them.

So when we found a sandal maker who was very friendly and asked him if he had anything in my size, I was somewhat surprised at what happened. Mexican sizes run differently than US sizes, so I tried an 8 and it was way too small. And I tried a 9 and it was still too small. That was the biggest he had, so he started going around the market talking to other sandal makers and eventually came back with a size 10. And it almost fit but seemed a bit too narrow so I decided not to buy them. And then we wandered stall after stall, and never saw another pair of size 10's, let alone the size 11 that I think I needed.

Now, I know that I am not a small person. At six feet tall and some larger number of pounds than I would like to admit, I am definitely in the higher percentiles of size wherever I am. But I'm not used to being the biggest person in a room, either.
When we went to the Yucatan a few years ago, it was very strange as the people there are all very very small, and when I walked down the street I was regularly a foot or more taller than anyone else I saw. Things in Oaxaca arent nearly as obvious -- there are plenty of Oaxacans who are roughly my size and even some who seem bigger -- but I guess as far as the sandal-makers are concerned I am too big to cater to. Sigh.

My new shoes

Huaraches from Señor Adrian in the Central de Abastos market. Sole is made of rubber from an airplane tire. $15.

Thoughts on Language

My goal for this trip was to be able to speak Spanish easily, comfortably - outside of a restaurant. I wanted to be able to have conversations with people - not just commercial exchanges.

I started studying Spanish when I was 12-years-old - that's 30 years ago. For the last decade, we've been coming to Mexico and I've been refreshing my knowledge. Six years of classroom learning led me to have a broad vocabulary, but I had some serious gaps. Mainly, past and future tense. I do find in the present, but struggle as soon as I'm discussing something beyond today.

I've finally worked around it for the future by using the "going to [insert verb here]" construction, and I think I've gotten a handle on past imperfect "had [inserted verb here]ed." I am determined to grasp past perfect conjugations for some basic verbs while I'm here.

While that's coming along, I'm already pretty much where I wanted to be. I speak Spanish in all of my interactions - badly, I'm guessing - but it's all Spanish. Having a kid means I'm able to interact with so many more people - on the playground, in the market, at little restaurants. People talk to us so much more, so I am getting so much practice.

Just last night, we sat down to a Fonda in the mercado to have a very late lunch (6pm), and the family was there. We chatted and I ended up helping the 9-year-old son do his English homework.

The process of visiting and registering for school has really opened up another level of communications - official. Using Google Translate, I have struggled to complete paperwork, and we have traipsed around town to comply with only half-understood requests.

Having recently completed applications for kindergarten, I know that bureacracy isn't easy even in your native language, and comparatively, the forms for private preschool aren't that difficult. The whole experience just gives me even greater compassion for immigrants in the US, for the difficulties of traversing a completely foreign system, the need to grasp assumptions that everyone else takes for granted.

The Fate of Poinsettias Everywhere

The trash.

Amigos

He can complain all he wants about no one playing with him at school, bug our little player had two girlfriends today.

The first is a girl we met at the organic market last weekend, the second is a friend from home who is living here until August.

Things to Pack Next Time

Mini Pepper Grinder: I actually own 4 of these. I've learned what I need to ask for - pimiento molido - but haven't been to the market yet.
Sheet Garters: I own two kinds of these. I can't stand it when sheets move around on the bed.

Both of these would have easily fit into our luggage and made my life a lot easier.

Too slow

K beat me to the punch of explaining why we chose the school we did for Elliott, but I thought I would post a closeup of the painting on the wall of the school. We had walked by it a dozen times without noticing it before (thinking it was just a crack in the paint, perhaps?) but the day we showed up to look at the school we noticed the detail. Spectacular!

Morena

While I was waiting for my naranjos to be jugoed, I picked up this newspaper on one of the tables. It was fascinating. I loved the graphic on the cover and the statement of principles on page 4. I loved the name, Morena, as I want my son to have so much brown pride.

Since the 2006 uprising, there is a lot of interesting political art happening in Oaxaca. We've seen elements of the Dignidad Rebelde work in several locations. I love so many of them, but this might have a place in my dining room!

School Shopped

After two days of pounding the pavement, we went with the first school
we looked at. It is just two, short blocks from our house, a pleasant
walk through our little parque. I found it because they had papered
the neighborhood with signs, including the one I saw at our grocery
store. It was a colorful, active place with kids playing and running
in the courtyard. The staff was helpful, and Elliott was chomping at
the bit to play with other kids.

Here's the weekly schedule:

Lunes: Danza
Martes: Educacion Fisica
Miercoles: Natacion
Jueves: Musica
Viernes: Gimnasio

Hopefully, that will keep him busy and tired!

How could we not choose the school with Spiderman on it? (Enlarge
photo to look at the window on the right.)

Super Shopping

Here's our $100 (American) cart full of school supplies, bulk paper products, and international ingredients (ground pepper and Parmesan, most importantly).

Rules

Contemplate this: one of the classroom rules at E's new preschool is
"No decimos rosarios." That is, no saying the rosary.

Finally

K and I have been married for nearly 12 years, and I'm pretty sure that today was the first time she has ever referred to me as her hero. The occasion? When I handed her the container of ground black pepper at the big grocery store in the suburbs we ventured out to this afternoon.

I guess its the little things that keep a marriage exciting.

Drinking Problem

If I see something new on a menu (that isn't meat), I like to order
it. An unknown ingredient or unusual combination will usually trump a
familiar favorite. This week, at Itanoni, this gamble paid off in
spades. I discovered Tascalate!

I had no idea what to expect when the man described a drink of
"achiote, toasted corn, cocoa" - but I ordered it with leche, instead
of agua. The light orange-tinged milk - the color of a bad spray tan -
didn't make me any more confident. It even took a few sips to win me
over - the toasty corniness, the cocoa richness. What I missed the
first time was the inclusion of canela (Mexican cinnamon).

I resisted ordering a second cup and came home and Googled, learning
that it does come as a premade mix. The next day, when we were
checking out an organic grocery down the street from our house (things
are so different than the first week we were here, everything was
closed for the holidays, that we're seeing many things for the first
time this week), I spotted a telltale orange powder - and asked "Que
es esto?" I was rewarded with the answer I wanted, and soon we were
drinking Tascalate at home.

Check out E's satisfaction with this new taste! He said it tasted like
chocolatey, and he is right. But it also tastes so much more, so
interesting and different. So our problem is that we want to drink
Tascalate all day long.

Gender Unbending

I spotted these at the Feria - yes, they are handmade wooden tortilla presses with Disney princesses pasted on. The blue ones on the right are decorated with Virgencita, a really cute cartoon version of Guadalupe.

Feria

Sunday improved when E and went out and discovered that the Friday night tiangui was set up again. It's a huge fair with rides and food and shopping. Pretty much an impossible place with a preschooler who wants everything now. But I was ready to be indulgent to assuage my Three Kings Day guilt. I only bought one toy, but was happy to say yes to bounce houses and double-decker trampolines. Those things make bedtime a lot easier, because they wear him out. My little adrenaline junkie loved this baby rollercoaster. The second time was completely handsfree.

Born To Be Wild

It will probably come as little surprise that the standards for road safety here in Oaxaca are not quite what we are used to back in the States. We regularly see kids riding in the back of pickup trucks (not to mention the police carrying their assault weapons), kids riding on the laps of the person driving a car, or men riding on the back of flatbed trucks through town. And lest I seem too high and mighty, there is certainly some relief that comes from not needing to use a carseat for our fifty pound preschooler. But it does make it hard to explain to said preschooler why it is that he can't ride in the back of a pickup truck or, as he seems to ask me every day, why I won't buy a motorcycle so that he and I can ride on it together. "Cmon, Dad, it would be so much fun!" I'm not sure where this fantasy comes from, but I sure hope that it dies down before Bike Week.

Next Top Restaurant

With the sad -- some might say tragic -- closing of Carmans Country Kitchen last month, I am now in need of a new 'Favorite Restaurant In The World'. While I probably need to do my due diligence, which may or may not involve brackets and spreadsheets and the like, I think that Itanoni (http://www.itanoni.com) might be an early frontrunner after today's lunch.

Happy Dia de Los Reyes

We found this little Rosca de Reyes cake at our grocery store last night, for about a dollar.

We have no presents. I feel like a terrible mother.

I never found a way to get away by myself to buy the little toys that E has asked for over and over, patiently being told to wait for weeks.

I'm sick of spending every day food shopping. And still not having what I need.

I'm frustrated with the fact that I can't find ground pepper, so everything I make has no taste.

I've bought 3 different kinds of salt and nothing is salty in the right way.

Where am I going to find the time to go all the way across town to the superstore that supposedly has international ingredients?

What Is Stamped on My Forehead?

It's very odd, but this trip, I seem to be the friendliest person around. People approach me to talk almost every day. In the Zocalo. At the playground. In the mercado. People talk to me about whatever. Usually, they ask "Where are you from?" While it's mostly Mexicans chatting me up, I've met more extranjeros too.

Punch Buggy

Even though I considered the downsides, I taught E how to play Punch Buggy.

He was taking an interest in the VW Bugs, which are made in the next state over (Puebla), and are in great abundance here. And I thought it would be a good way to practice his colors in Spanish. (I have a fear that people at his preschool will think he is stupid because he looks so big and can only count to ten and name three colors.)

So far, he thinks that if you see the bug, you get punched, which may be why the punching has been limited to light bumps. We tried to change it to Fist-bump Buggy, but he would have none of that nonsense.

It's a fun game, because there are so so many bugs. We probably saw two dozen on a five-block walk to the Mercado and back.

Observations

Starting work and getting sick (from food I cooked myself!) has cut down my blogging time in the last few days. This week is an interim week, before E starts at a preschool here (have to find one next week), but it's starting to settle more into life than vacation.

A few thoughts on what I'm seeing around DF and Oaxaca:

• I swear that I never saw people using modern babycarriers before this trip. Almost everybody carries babies and even older children. Indigenous people use traditional rebozos to help with this - either as a sling, or they have a way of wrapping that is just to kind of support the arm. This trip, I've seen at least one Baby Bjorn-style carrier every day we've been out. What is most surprising to me is the men wearing them! It takes a special Mexican man to wear his baby in a contraption like that.
• I've also seen more elaborate, Maclaren-style strollers than I noticed before. When we were in Michoacan two years ago, we would see a few umbrella strollers carrying children smaller than, but about the same age as E. I had the notion that people thought we were odd for pushing such a big child around. This time, E also looks so much older than the other kids. By his size and height, he easily passes for six. Anyway, Michoacan is maybe not as cosmopolitan as DF and Oaxaca. I've even seen a twin Maclaren-style!
• Lots of women wear traditional-style tops. It's not surprising to see all the lady-expatriates wearing huipiles and broomstick-skirts, but I've noticed quite a lot of middle-class Mexican women, of all ages, wearing woven and embroidered shirts. Usually, they're just worn as tops with jeans, slacks, or a non-traditional skirt. I'm inspired by this and thinking of picking up a few tops, to make up for the lack of lightweight shirts I brought. For some reason, we expected it to be colder. It can be chilly in the evenings, but we don't go out that much, and I don't need as many sweaters and jackets as I brought. I'm pretty comfortable in shorts and a short-sleeve shirt all day, even as the Mexicans around me are wearing jeans and boots, bundling their kids up in coats.

Exploring Sports

When the playground was closed, I suggested we go look at the rest of the park. First we discovered this soccer game about to stop. We stayed through the first period, then headed to the handball courts and watched the men hit tennis balls barehanded.

Cerrado

It took us more than a week to find a playground, but we visited it the other day. Today E and I tried to go again, D is down with the tummy troubles, and it was closed. Locked. I know there are many playgrounds in the US that are unavailable to the public, because they are on school grounds. And that's the case here too. I know it's a holiday, so the person who staffs this playground should have the day off. But.... What better day for families to visit?