Mis vecinos

Well, I have two days left here, which really is one (tomorrow) since today is almost over and I leave Saturday early in the morning. I thought it'd be a good time to mention my neighbors, who have provided a source of entertainment and interest throughout my year here.

Let's start on the first floor. These are the neighbors, by the way, who were going to "call the fatherland/national heritage" when I almost tripped over a passed out drunk man at the bottom of the stairs a few weeks ago.

Let's start with their son, who I can never understand. I am hoping, actually, that this is a speech impediment of some sort because it's better to have a documented problem than to just be strange, it would seem. In addition to lacking articulation, he lacks coverage for his upper body! The guy is somewhere in his late teens, and for the first few months I lived here, I was convinced that he didn't so much as own a shirt, as every day he lacked one. Finally, once winter set in (the time when the temperature dips to the 70s and people here whip out their scarves and jackets), I finally saw him in a shirt. About three times. All year. He also parks his motorcycle IN their apartment. Mom, that's a lot worse than a backpack, no?

Sometime during this year, these neighbors put up a sign and opened an internet cafe-slash-copy and scanning center. It's part of their front room partitioned off with a couple of computers. This isn't unusual, though; the neighbors in the building across from me run a small grocery store out of their living room. Things got a little stranger, though, when I started coming home and hearing bad Mexican songs being sung in what seemed like... karaoke?? Yes, the neighbors were doing karaoke shamelessly with the door open, on more than one occasion, but it hasn't happened lately, or I might think it was part of the family business.

All in all, the first floor inhabitants are friendly entrepreneurs with a semi-nudist son. And a really ugly dog; did I mention the dog?

I don't know the second floor vecinos, so our tour moves to my next-door neighbors. It sort of seems like a clown car, except an apartment; the amount of people I see there in what would be a two-bedroom apartment exceeds my North American comfort levels, but living with one's extended family also is not uncommon here. Aside from getting mad at us for setting our supposedly fly-attracting trash outside the door once (for about five minutes!), the patriarch of the group is a nice guy who's always ready with a "Buenas tardes". They have at least two children. Their son, about high school age, is always looking directly into our door when he walks by. "What do Americans do at home?" I can only guess that this is what he's thinking. There is also a little girl whose growth has been marked during my time here! She was a little shy at first, but now she always comes to the door (often accompanied by the curious adolescent) and says "Hola!" with a wave.

Well, that's my neighborhood! Just add lots of noise and a peanut vendor, and you've got the complete picture.

Under two weeks

Since two weeks from today I will be home in upstate New York, it's a good time to reflect on my year in Mexico...


Things I will miss:

• Nearby San Cristobal, with its indigenous culture, variety in international and Mexican cuisine, colorful buildings, and always fun market.
• Cheap (2.50-4.50 USD) movies
• MY STUDENTS!! I found out that a colleague is staying next year and teaching second grade, and I’m going overboard filling her in on them as a group, giving tips, and otherwise being glad to know whose hands they’ll be in!


• The friends I’ve made among the staff


• The weather. Sometimes the heat was almost unbearable, but I cannot STAND cold Northeast winters, and not having temperatures below 60 that I can remember was amazing.


• Cheap, delicious food! Yes, you sometimes have to watch out for sketchiness in order to avoid parasites and GI infections (I had one of the latter and possibly one of the former), but I could eat and drink mole, agua de avena, jamaica, fried plantains, Juan and Yayci’s quesadillas and tescalate, and taquitos forever. Or at least for one savory year. (One of my favorite candies is pictured here: Glorias, made from goat's milk caramel!)


• Tons of natural light! And very little rain.

Things I will NOT miss:

• Tuxtla. I’ve had my fill of this hot, crowded city in the jungle.
• Movie-goers who answer their cell phones and have full conversations and who laugh during the emotional parts of the film. I swear, some people have the emotional maturity of seventh graders as adults.
• Disorganization and resistance to change at school. I’d actually think of coming back (to take my kids for third grade!) if the school were more organized.



• THE MEN. I cannot wait until I don’t feel like a steak on legs. If I ever complain about blending in/being a Plain Jane/not getting attention again, just send me back here and I will instantly remember why no attention is better than being whistled/shouted/hissed at!
• 
  
• Living in a society with a strong class system. I mean, we’re not talking about a caste system or anything, but coming from a society that prides itself on social mobility and equality and not discrimination, living in such a class system has been challenging. I’ve come to resent wealth. I feel like at home we should help out more too, but sometimes we feel that sending our money to charities might not go where it should. That’s a crappy excuse, but here all you have to do is go out on garbage night and you’ll see someone impoverished picking through bags of trash hoping to find things to recycle (and be paid for) or reuse him or herself.
  With this class deal comes nepotism, and with nepotism often comes incompetence because, hey, a lot of people don’t have their jobs because they’re qualified for them, but because they or their family knows someone. My place of employment has its fair share of connections-based hiring, as well.


• NOISE! I am almost certain that my hearing has worsened from living here. I kept saying, “Huh? HUH?” to Alex when she was here visiting because she speaks at an American-normal volume, and I am accustomed to cacophonous Mexico. I wish I had taken a hearing test before I came so that I could compare it to one I’d like to have after living here. Between loudspeakers (even at work), screaming children (even at work, albeit not in my classroom or you’re in trouble), chains signaling gas delivery, whistles and mouth noises to get people’s attention, honking cabs and combis, and blaring movie surround-sound, I know I’ve done some auditory damage in these eleven months.
• Knocking. Many people knock here like they have a right to come in your house! They knock, knock, and knock some more until you give in or hide. Come on, logic says if the person doesn’t answer, they’re not there, or they don’t want to answer, so you’re doing no good and potentially just annoying them if you keep on knocking!
• Disregard for the environment. There is litter everywhere, little or no recycling, and I once watched an eco-tourism guide throw a beer bottle into the Rio Grijalva. ‘Nough said.

The second list looks longer, but I think I just went into greater detail on the things that have been annoying. Please don't mistake that for total discontent with the whole year!

Don't worry, in a minute we'll call the fatherland

So, tonight I went out for some (overpriced and kind of blah tasting) Chinese food after an action-packed adieu to San Cristobal with Danna. Upon returning home, I paid my cab driver and walked toward the stairs. My path was interrupted by... a man sleeping in front of the stairs? Clearly he wasn't homeless, but he was passed out at the bottom of the stairs! I got over the surprise quickly, surmised that the man was breathing, and said, "Disculpe?" (Excuse me?) Nothing. "Disculpe?" Nothing. "Disculpe?" Still nothing. I tapped his shoulder; nothing. The door to my first floor neighbors' apartment was open, so I bid them good evening (We "Buenas Tardes/Noches" here more than we "Hola" each other) and asked them if they knew the man sleeping at the bottom of the stairs. "He's been drinking, I think," the daughter answered. Okay, that's probably true, but he is unconscious and alone lying on cement and his family has abandoned him. I look shocked at her calmness. "They'll come back and get him," she tells me. I'm still shocked. "Ahorrita llamamos a la patria." In a minute we'll call the fatherland?? My shock turns to confusion, I say ok, and walk upstairs as the situation is in their hands. If this wasn't a place with extemely corrupt cops, I would have already called them myself, but they might just make things worse, so I let those who are native to the culture figure out what to do with the grown man who is acting like a college Freshman.

I went up to my apartment and gave the neighbors about five minutes to... call the fatherland/national heritage?? Not sure if this means the police, or the guy's friends, or none of the above. Anyway, I went back downstairs and the guy was still passed out but sitting on the stairs, and the neighbor girl (about 18 years old or so) was talking through her cage door (we all have them). I said, "Did his friends come?" "No, se fueron." They left?? "Yes, they left him here." "Y el vive en este edificio?" No, he doesn't live here. I'm shocked again, but I see they are giving him water (or at least lemonade) and monitoring the situation, so I can with some peace of mind resubir to my apartment. Just when I thought living here couldn't get any more interesting.

Note: the picture has nothing to do with the situation, except for the fact that it was taken three stories above where the story above takes place, but I know an all-text entry can be boring! This picture is from the first or second week in Tuxtla, and is of me and my roommate.

Manna from Heaven? Not quite...

This is the second part of a note my principal, Michy, sent to the English teachers last week:

"On a different note, you'll soon be amused (or perhaps, jittery, elated, annoyed, or just plain curious!) to discover that very soon botanas [snacks] will be dropping from the sky to fill the streets (and nooks and crannies) of Tuxtla! They are called nucu, and they are fat and clumsy flying ant that are due to appear any day now (they appear shortly after the tiny. dainty, long-winged insects take to the sky...and I saw a couple in my bathroom already!) The dopey nucu are attracted to the light, so the Tuxlecos [people from Tuxtla] have learned that they can capture these yummy treats by setting up tubs of water under strategically placed lightbulbs. After the initial luminous attraction, the nucu plunge to their watery death, and the Tuxtlecos gather them, fry them up in lime and salt, and dig in for a crunchy, tangy, and somewhat pungent once-a-year feast! I wanted to let you know for two reasons: one, you may bravely wish to try out this cultural delicacy yourself; and two, your students will in all likelihood be a little distracted and excited on the day the nucu arrive."

One: I tried grasshoppers, that was enough, thank you.
Two: It's June. My kids are already distracted and excited! :)

At our Wednesday morning meeting, my counterpart (the Spanish first grade teacher) Estela (who I called Estrella, or Star, for months by accident without being corrected) called them "caviar Chiapaneco", Chiapan caviar, because people will charge 10 pesos for a small container.
They have definitely distracted my kids, who have brought tupperware to school to try to catch them, and who ask (and are denied) permission to get out of morning line-up to go chase one that they saw on the ground. "Yes, I'm sure the Principal and Coordinator would love it if I let you run off and catch bugs while she's talking," I feel like saying, but instead opt for, "Not right now."
Anyhow, I could have a picture of one of my cutie pie students and his nucu collecting efforts, but I brought my camera without batteries!! Que tonta soy.

Alex in Chiapas!

I'm keeping this short until I hear from Alex, who is planning on writing up her take on her visit down here to Chiapas. I can tell you, though, that it was a memorable one for her.

I knew that having Al come down would, as a secondary effect to having wonderful company, remind me of things I've forgotten about. More than doing this, though, her visit confirmed a lot of the things that have been driving me crazy, like having to bargain a price for a taxi or anything in the market, and being stared at constantly.

Alex's favorite part of the trip was Palenque, partly because it was the "least Mexican" part of the trip. That's not to say the food and the people aren't good here (other 99% 0f the men), but life here can be chaotic, noisy, and a bit unpredictable. Palenque sees a lot of tourists, so it offers more peace and stability than Tuxtla.

Another interesting commentary from Alex: would life here have its appeal if it weren't so cheap? "Would be pay 15 dollars for these belts at home?" She asked. No, probably not, I thought. But, they're cute and they're about two dollars here... I think she might be onto something.

I feel a little guilty that Alex had to come in essentially my last month here, when I'm getting a little tired of the noise, relative disorganization, and the gross pigmen. On the one hand, she saw what life, as opposed to vacation, is like here; but I hope she didn't see so much that the trip lost its ability to be enjoyable!

My two highlights from Alex's journey south of the border were:

1. Swimming in a waterfall! Alex discovered one of my remaining fears: walking over a waterfall tidepool on a wet log.

2. Being chased by a mystery animal in the Olmec park. Alex has a lovely video of this, and when she can access her photos I hope to get a copy.