Day of the Dead

It´s been a month since I´ve last published a blog. This is partially from laziness on my part, but also due to the fact that not a lot of interesting things have happened to me of late. My life has become a bit of a routine; as I´m trying to save money I haven´t had the opportunity to get out of Toluca lately. But last week´s Day of the Dead celebrations beg to be written about, so I am once again forced out of retirement.
For those people who haven´t heard about Day of the Dead - or watched the movie ¨Assasins,¨with Antonio Banderas and Sylvester Stallone - I will fill you in on the religious holiday. Basically every year on November 1st and 2nd, Mexicans all over the Republic (and some in the U.S. and Canada) go on a pilgrimage back to their hometowns to visit the cemetaries where their loved ones have been laid to rest. (The Japanese follow a similar custom in mid August called Obon). In the cemetary, in memory of the deceased, they bring flowers - typically marigolds - candles and pictures and they stay up all night either singing or telling stories. In addition, families set up altars in their homes with offerings of fruit or candy (typically shaped like skulls) and bread called ¨pan del muerto¨ (bread of the dead).
Last week, in the days leading up to the first, there were stands all over downtown selling the skull shaped candy along with chocolate bones and tiny skeleton ornaments for the altars. While seeming morbid, I was assured that the tradition is a meant to be sacred and in fact has been celebrated in Mexico for thousands of years, first as an Aztec custom in the summer and then moved to November to coincide with All Saints Day. Very cool indeed.

Holy Guacamole!

It´s been awhile since I´ve written so I thought I would give an update. After weeks of waiting I finally started my job teaching on Monday. My full time schedule start next week, but in the meantime I´ve been giving classes at a pharmaceutical company called Roche. I had no idea chemists worked so hard! They start work at seven every day and work until around 10 with two hours off to study English with yours truly. There are five of us, with an average of eight students per class. Very friendly people. The interesting part about it is, on Tuesdays and Thursdays I have to teach in the part of the plant where the drugs are actually being developed, so I have to wear a lab coat, hat and this type of protector over my shoes. But I digress...
In discussions with my students (and with my girlfriend) it has come to my attention that a lot of people want to leave Mexico and live somewhere else. They find it hard to believe that I would leave a country like Canada to come here. Why leave the land of milk and honey to live in the land of crime and corruption? How different my view of Mexico is to the people who actually live here.
I don´t know perhaps I´m being ignorant. The legions of immigrants who come to my country every year should be enough testament that Canada is a great country to reside. But my heart is in Mexico. This place really has everything - great food, spectacular countryside, friendly ¨paisanos,¨ the language of love, etc. The grass is always greener... More later. Nuff said for now.

Lions and Tigers and Bears

I'm in Mazatlan now. It´s a port city on the Pacific ocean directly East of the bottom tip of Baja California Sur. (The penisula that sticks off the side of North Eastern Mexico). Once again my start date at work has been pushed back - due to the papers from the Mexican embassy in Canada being delayed - so I decided to spend my last week travelling. I have a checklist of places I want to see in this wonderful country and Matzalan is one of them. But now that I'm here I'm not really sure why. There is a strip of beach, and it's really hot here but there's not a heck of a lot to see. But I digress...
One of the things I´ve been thinking a lot about lately is the heightened security in Mexico. On the 12 hour bus ride from Toluca the bus was pulled over twice - once by the police and a second time by the military. A police officer came aboard and interrogated every passenger. Of course I forgot my passport in Toluca, so I was lucky that my birth certificate was enough identification to prove I am who I say I am. The extra security is a result of an incident that happened during the El Grito celebrations in Morelia, Michoacan (where I happened to be two weeks ago). Two grenades exploded simultaneously, only blocks apart, in Morelia's historic center, allegedly thrown by suspected drug cartel members killing eight and injuring more than 100 in a terrorist attack. The drug cartels move marijuana and cocaine into the United States, the government beefs up security and the gangs have responded with daytime shootouts, assassinations, beheadings and massacres.
As you can imagine this has caused a lot of fear in Mexican people. Morelia is a pretty chilled place where nothing ever happens of interest, so the message has been delivered: no place is safe. Nora told me that she doesn't want to go anywhere near the centre of Toluca on Independence Day next year. And Nora's father told me to take extreme care when travelling to Zacatecas (which is my ultimate destination this trip). But I don't know. I'm not that worried. Perhaps I should be, but I just don't see how anybody could protect themselves against these kind of things. I've travelled a lot in Mexico and met a lot of Mexicans, and I've never once felt threatened or in any danger. These random terrorist attacks are just that. Random. People who see Mexico as a dangerous place forget that this past summer in Canada a person was beheaded on the bus. It could happen anywhere...
Everywhere you go in Mexico it's the same thing - military in parks, or police with machine guns on beaches. Nora told me that in the morning at the shopping mall in Toluca you can actually see snipers waiting on the roof ready to take out any suspicious looking people. A little excessive if you ask me.
While I know a lot of people would disagree with me, I think the media is selling fear, and the people who are buying it, are the ones most likely to find it. It might sound strange but logically if you heard about two people travelling, one with insurance and one without, who do you think is mostly likely to have something bad happen to them? I would place bets on the person without insurance. I refuse to live in fear. And therefore fear refuses to live with me. Nuff said.

Ole!

What a crazy weekend I just had! I don't think I fully realized how playful Mexican people were until these past few days. These people really know how to party! On Saturday I was fortunate enough to attend a "quince anos" (15 years old) birthday party in Toluca. While in Canada I vaguely remember there being a minor celebration when I was confirmed in the Catholic chuch it paled in comparison to the party I attended to celebrate the coming of age of one of Nora´s cousins. A three course meal was followed by a dance where everybody - from the grandparents to the youngest children in the crowd - was on the floor dancing to a combination of cumbia, 80´s rock (YMCA, R.E.M, etc.) and ¨Achy Breaky Heart¨in Spanish. And around eleven o´clock just when I was expecting things to wind down a mariachi band showed up. It was fantastic! It was like a wedding, bar mitzva, and prom all rolled into one. However, none of this could have prepared me for ¨el grito¨ (Independence Day celebration) that took place on Monday night.
Basically for two days a year, September 15th and 16th all of Mexico shuts down so people can warm up for the festivities that are held in the main plaza of every town in the country. In Toluca there were about 500,000 people in the centre milling around blowing trumpets and other noise makers and squirting foam at each other. Then, at 11 o´clock (that magic hour again) everybody gathered in the zocalo (the main plaza) to watch the governor of the state of Mexico (where Toluca is located) yell out, ¨Viva los mexicanos! Viva Mexico!¨ To which everybody in the crowd responded ¨Viva! Viva!¨ Apparently its symoblic of the original battle cry of a priest named Hidalgo who rallied the troops to fight the Spanish and win independence from Spain in a ten year battle at the turn of the 19th century. You can read more about in on wikipedia or view this clip: http://mx.youtube.com/watch?v=PTGH8rsMqQo&feature=related. Viva Mexico!

Acapulco

I'm in Acapulco now - a very hilly city built up on a bay overlooking the Pacific ocean. I took the four hour bus trip down here on a whim, and I'm glad I did. A lot of Mexican people complain about how Acapulco, while once a paradise, has become overly commercialized and the natural beauty has been spoiled with all the development here. But I don't know, I think the place is pretty nice. How can you really speak badly about a place with a beach over a mile long where it's 30 degrees almost every day of the year? It's much nicer than I expected it to be.
Perhaps I wouldn't like it as much if it weren't the off season. My hotel in the centre is just about dead, and the hotel manager almost pleaded with me to stay there when I first arrived in town. I couldn't really argue with 200 pesos, (20 dollars American) 2 minutes away from the main plaza.
Last night I went to see the famous clavadistas which you can watch here...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2mFvCJQ1SVc. It was quite spectacular. You pay 35 pesos to watch 7 guys climb a cliff that's at least forty five metres high and dive in the ocean. The trick is, the pool they jump into isn't very deep so they have to time their dive with the tide or risk breaking their neck. I was undoubtedly impressed. It sounds corny but it was well worth seeing.
Anyway after that I paid 200 pesos to take this cruise of the bay in a yacht while listening to cheesy Mexican pop music. The great thing about it was being the only white guy and hanging out with chilangos (as people from Mexico city are referred to) for a few hours. Being in Mexico at this time of year I feel like I'm getting to experience the country from the inside out. After the cruise I went to a nightclub that was part of a hotel. I wasn't supposed to be there but the guy at the door automatically assumed from looking at me that I was a rich American paying 100 dollars a night to pass my vacation. But my life is better than any tourist - I get to live in this amazing country. Could life get any better than this?

Zihuatanejo, Mexico

Right now I´m sitting in an internet cafe in a state in Mexico that I can't pronounce. It's called Guerrero which means warrior. I took the all night bus last night from Toluca and arrived at six in the morning. Due to extreme fatigue - it's nearly impossible to sleep in most buses in Mexico due to the fact that they play movies at full volume - it took me awhile to settle in. I haggled with the cab driver to drop me off in the center of town. He had never heard of the 50 pesos hostal from my guide book, so I spent about an hour groggily stumbling through down looking for a place just as cheap. Zihautenejo is a resort town so the cheapest hotel cost about 300 pesos - 30 dollars American. I made it as far as the plaza de armas near the beach before I ran into Jose, or Pepe as his friends call him. Normally I would be extremely wary about any overly eager Mexican offering to help me, (usually people in this country are shy when it comes to foreigners), especially one who spoke such good English, but I was tired so figured what the heck. It took two blocks to realize he was trying to scam me. After offering me any drug I wanted - marijuna, cocaine, etc. - he led me to his friend's hotel. I asked him the price expecting him to make me a deal of around 150 pesos, when he laughed and told me 15,000 pesos! That's almost what I spend to stay at my apartment in Toluca for a whole month! Needless to say it wasn't long before Pepe and I parted ways.
Zihuatanejo is pretty nice. It's not like the Yucatan with it's mile long pearly white beaches, but it holds a certain charm and it's far enough away from Acapulco that there is barely a gringo in sight. But that might be because it's the off season now. I came here because of that movie, The Shawshank Redemption that came out about ten years ago. In it the main character played by Tim Robbins escapes prison after being incarcerated for 30 years and ends up here. Don't ask me why but since I saw it the name Zihuatanejo has been burned in my memory. It's too bad that the scene at the end of the film that supposedly takes place here was filmed in the Virgin Islands. You just can´t trust Hollywood...

Red Hot Chili Peppers

I´ve been settling in quite nicely to my new life in Mexico. That being said I always feel like I´m one step behind the rest of the country. For people brought up here, the fact that nothing is on time, things break down for no reason (I had no power last week for three days), and public transportation is unsafe (you can´t take a taxi at night for risk of being kidnapped and the buses have no doors) is a fact of life. I have to constantly remind myself that I´m not in Canada. But I guess that´s what makes living here interesting. I wouldn´t have it any other way.

Where do I put the toilet paper?

Just got back from a job interview. I had to give a demo lesson. I killed if I may so myself. After doing it for two years in Japan and three years in Vancouver, I could teach English in my sleep. On the way back to my apartment from downtown I had an interesting culinary experience in a local restaurant. Here in Toluca there are a lot of places that have only one set menu for 35 pesos (about 3.50 Canadian) and my curiousity led me to check one out. I love eating here; since most of the items are names in Spanish I´ve never heard of, I never know what I'm going to get. Like Forest Gump´s proverbial box of chocolates.
First the lady brought me a out a plate of rice with bread and this salsa called ¨chile manzano.¨ Then a bowl of meatball soup. Then a bowl of beans and a basket of tortillas. And finally pineapple for dessert. Plates arrived at my table one after another, all with a friendly smile from the waitress. She seemed happier than I was that a ¨norteamericano¨ was actually sitting at her table.
Then things got really interesting. I had filled up on beans and bread and needed a place to relieve myself so I asked the lady where the bathroom was. She pointed to the back of the restaurant. So I politely excused myself and went in and did my business. It was only after I sat down and made use of the paper supplied on the wall did I realize I had nowhere to put it. There I sat in the most vulnerable position possible with a pile of used toilet paper in my hand...
In Mexico they have a real sewage problem. When I was in Leon last week it rained heavily and when I asked my friend why the streets were flooding so badly he told me because the water had no place to go because the drains were all clogged. To prevent this a person generally has to put used paper in a waste basket next to the toilet. Only there was none to be found! Luckily, I found what looked like a mop bucket where I stashed the evidence. I gave the lady a hearty tip knowing full well she deserved double for putting up with an ignorant gringo such as myself. It´s always an adventure using the bathroom here. You really never know what to expect. Even the places where you pay 3 pesos to get in (which is almost everywhere) you´re not guaranteed there´s going to be ¨papel¨ in the stall, nor soap to wash your hands when you´re finished. The things the guidebooks don´t tell you!

Mexico 2.0

I'm in San Miguel de Allende now. It's a mid sized city about an hour or two from Queretaro (where I was yesterday) and about three hours from Guanajuato in Mexico. If you know where any of those places are. It's pretty nice, with lots of old Gothic style church and cobbled streets; very European, but a little too sanitized for my tastes. Its like the Disneyland version of la Republica. I think it would have been cooler to be here in the 1960s when beer cost 7 cents, the houses were falling down, there was garbage everywhere, and no refrigeration (everything made had to be consumed in the same day and drinks were cooled with cold water) and nobody spoke any English. Which brings me to the main topic of today's blog. The English speaking Mexican.
I have a love/hate relationship with people I've met who speak English. On one hand it's kind of welcoming to hear my language being spoken in a foreign country but on the other it can be grating on the nerves. Especially when I meet the people who meet me for the first time and decide that since I'm from Canada, they should have the right to use me as their own personal English teacher. Whenever I speak to strangers here I always address them in espanol, and I expect them to answer back in kind. So it is with great unease when I ask for directions and the person tells me to "go straight straight..." when they could easily say, "sigue derecho." I find it rude when I ask somebody perfectly clear in their language where something is and they feel they have to use broken English to explain it to me. When by addressing them in Spanish I've made it obvious I don't need help with translation.
Then there are the times when I ask how to say something in Spanish and the person tells me and then repeats the question to me as to how to say it in English. I suppose it may seem like a bit of a double standard, but I feel being in Mexico if I take pains to try to speak the native tongue, the native people should be gracious enough to help me. If I were in Canada I would do the same for a person trying to learn English. And have on many occasions. But I digress...

The art of looking foolish

I had an interesting encounter with a girl in a store the other day. It gets hot here in the afternoon and my throat was parched. "Agua por favor." (Water please - I politely articulated). "Como?" (What?) "Agua," I tried again. "Aga?" "No... agua. Gwa not ga. Agwa." "Oh agua," she retorted in a whydidn'tyousaysointhefirstplace type tone. "No tenemos." (We don't have any).
This kind of thing happens all the time. I have mastered the art of looking foolish. On a daily basis I am confronted with people looking at me with bemused expression wondering what rock I crawled out of. People aren't accustomed to a guero (white boy) speaking Spanish so they figure I must be speaking to them in my language. Therefore the lady must have thought I was asking for aga, a drink that is only available in Canada and the U.S.
What's worse is that I can understand most of what other people are saying, they just can't understand me. It´s like the Far Side cartoon where you get to see what the dog is thinking and he looks like he could be a Rhodes scholar but when he opens his mouth all he can say is "Woof woof." I would explain this joke in Spanish to the people here but the word for dog in Spanish is "perro" and I can't roll my rrs.

What do you do for a living?

The past few blog entries I´ve published have been overwhelmingly positive. Which isn´t to say that there aren´t things that bother me about being here. But the main thing that´s been getting under my skin isn´t something true only of Mexico. My pet peeve is when first meeting people hearing the question, ¨So what do you do?¨ Whether it be in Spanish or English the question grates on my nerves. I usually answer, ¨teacher,¨ but it doesn´t seem an honest response. I´m not currently ¨teaching¨ and I have never really felt comfortable categorizing myself as someone who teaches. When I first started teaching English in Japan it took months for me to feel comfortable in that position. I´ve always felt that I had much more to learn from other people than I could ever teach. Even last year when I was teaching Elementary school I took whatever opportunities I could to put the kids in groups so they could learn from each other rather than have to listen to me. What do I really know about anything? The only thing I do know for sure is that I love meeting new people. But I get frustrated when I have to defend the fact that I´m not working. Like I´m not allowed to exist unless I´m a contributing member of our consumer society. Like I need to be making money in order to be a ¨real person.¨
I haven´t started looking for a job here yet because of two reasons: A) I haven´t recieved my papers back from the Mexican embassy in order to apply for a work visa and B) I´m not sure what kind of work I really want to do. I´ll probably end up teaching English - as I have so many times in the past - but I´m not really looking forward to it. I don´t want to work just for the sake of working. Or just to have something to do. I want to enjoy what I´m doing and feel what I´m doing is worthwhile. I´d love if rather than asking about my profession people were to ask me, ¨Who are you?¨ That´s why I´m here in Mexico; to figure that out. Which is something really worth talking about.

Gracias

As many people already know the word, ¨gracias¨ can be translated in English as ¨thank you.¨ It´s probably the word I hear most spoken everywhere I go in Toluca. But it is also the plural form of the English word ¨grace¨ which means ¨elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action,¨ according to dictionary.com. These last few days I´ve been reflecting a lot about that word. Not only am I incredibly thankful to be here, but I am also continuously amazed at how ¨gracious¨ Mexican people are. I´m not sure if it´s something that´s in the water here, or the strong influence of the Catholic church (?) but I find the citizens of this city to be extremely friendly, humble and hospitable. In contrast, I remember feeling isolated and alienated by the cynicism of the people who lived in the Northern B.C. town I lived last year. I love how Toluquenos greet everyone as a possible friend, rather than treat you as a potential enemy. I spent the weekend visiting my girlfriend´s family and was warmly welcomed to sit at their table. There I was served the most amazing food I have ever been forunate enough to savor - my plate overflowed with beans, tortillas, salsa verde (spicy green sauce), Mexican spaghetti, chicken drowned in a spicy red sauce (the name escapes me). Needless to say I'm very happy to be here and anxiously await the adventures to come. Muchas gracias indeed.

La Vida es un Carnaval

La Vida es un Carnaval - literally translated in English as ¨life is a carnival¨ is a salsa song by the Cuban singer Celia Cruz. It was playing when I arrived at a going away party for one of the coworkers from my girlfriend´s office. Not only is it one of my favorite songs (was it serendipitous that play when I arrived?) but it made me wonder why we Canadians take ourselves so seriously. It may seem obvious to say but we could learn a lot by ¨working to live¨ instead of ¨living to work¨ like Mexican people do. People here really know how to party! I felt like a five year old at a birthday party for the first time. Those who weren´t dancing or laughing were busy feasting on the plethora of five different kinds of tacos on display. I left the place at 10:00 and it was just getting started. On a work day! Last winter in cold Northern B.C. would have been a lot easier to take if were able to participate in a few fiestas like this one. But I digress...
Interestingly enough, before I got to the party I attended a funeral for the brother of another co-worker of Nora. He died in a car accident from a truck driver plowing through the side of his vehicle at an intersection. I immediately related to the situation when I was told the news and did my best to express my condolences in the best Spanish I could muster. But really what do you say under these circumstances? Everyone in church was very somber and dispirited. Quite a contrast from the party I went to later on. It was humbling to attend the ceremony and be part of something much bigger than I am...

How does one define the quality of any experience?

This is the question I ask myself as I begin to write my first blog here in Toluca, Mexico. Everything we do will always ultimately be compared with every other experience. Which can both highlight or distract from whatever adventure we embark on. This has always been my problem when I´ve been travelling. I tend to search for meaning in the world around me by collating it with places I´ve previously visited. I´ve been to about 12 Spanish speaking countries but never lived there. Now, finally, I´ve made the decision to come and stay for a while. I´ve wet my feet and now am ready to take the plunge.
And so...in the next little while I hope to reflect - and articulate as objectively as I can - the Mexican experience. But like a child, I hope I can see things here the way they really are. Wish me luck.