Lunes, Lunes

I've become a Mexican Catholic. Sorry.

I’m writing this blog post from inside the Laundromat, standing awkwardly with my computer on a table for folding clothes. All the plastic chairs are occupied because the laundro-ladies are lunching (it’s 3 p.m.) The laundromat has two options: drop your clothes off and pick them up, clean and folded, several days later, or, use the machines yourself. I opted for the latter option, but it seems there’s still not much independence in the process. I had to be guided to each machine as a new one was opened, and was thoroughly questioned about how I planned to separate my clothes (already did) and how much it weighs (to determine which size washer I’d use). It’s apparently much cheaper to do it the way I’m doing it, but I can see the huge convenience factor of letting them deal with it. I also feel like a huge tool bringing my Macbook to wash my clothes instead of a book. Maybe if they read my blog they’d understand why my wit can’t wait.

My favorite thing about preschool these days is that whenever I ask any student a question, no matter what it's about, they'll answer with a color. "How many brothers do you have?" "Rrrrrred!!!" "How are you today?" "Purple!!!" At least I've made a dent somehow.

Today at school the little ones were strangely better behaved. In an attempt to get ahead of the game for once, I raced downstairs before class to arrange the 15-20 workbooks and pencil cases for each of my 3-year-olds, a process that normally takes a good 5-10 minutes during class. However, I forgot that on Mondays we honor the Mexican flag. So I ended up having the first group for only 10 minutes, not enough to even merit opening their workbooks. As for the other classes, it seems the presence of a student with at least one American parent helps the others, as these kids tend to know more by virtue of their home situation and can contribute more to the class. I still haven’t met with the administrator to go over my planbook for the week (which I don’t even have yet), and I feel like I’ll hate my life a lot less when I go into class each morning with a plan. Right now, I go in with a poorly written rubric in my little notebook that says things like “Days of week, Song, Animal Flashcards, Book.” All very vague with no contingency plan, and I also keep picking random pages from the workbook, thereby assuring the children learn nothing.

In the Time of Butterflies

UPDATE: Here's a link to the photo slideshow on BBC: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in_pictures/7921264.stm. My butt is on slide #9.

Last weekend, I went along with Laura, Dave and three new friends (one Yankee, two Brits) to a monarch butterfly reserve about 2 hours west of D.F. in the state of Michoacán. The butterflies nest and procreate there in the mountains before fluttering north to Canada. I guess that means the ones we see in Ohio probably got benched a lot in butterfly field hockey. The lady Brit was on a freelance assignment for the BBC, so we followed her agenda a bit, which was a good one to follow.

We stayed in the small town of Zitácuaro, which resembled most other Mexican towns I’ve seen: grid-like streets, a central plaza, lots of small restaurants and clothing stores, but not a whole lot else going on. We stayed in a fairly nice hotel, though I did find a few ants creeping on my sheets.

On Saturday afternoon, we arrived a little late to the reserve and decided to travel up the mountain by horse. I’ve ridden a few trails at a very slow trot in my day, but this was far more intense. We climbed uphill over rocky terrain, the horse didn’t wear horseshoes and mine was a little crazy, taking me for a few jumps of little ledges - much to my horror. We weren’t wearing helmets. About an hour and one sore butt later, we arrived at the top where the butterflies hang out. It was amazing. There were so many butterflies swarming around us they sounded like a breeze running through big maple trees on a fall day (what a scenic picture I paint). The ones that weren’t fluttering by were clustered into groups on the trees…at first glance, they seemed more like thick leaves than butterflies. We saw an incredible amount, and apparently it can get even more intense than that. It was a very beautiful view, as we were on the top of a mountain and looking down at the city and valley below.

Sunday afternoon started with great promise. After stowing our packs at the bus station and commencing a high-speed food run in a nearby supermarket, we set off around 10 a.m. to see a new butterfly zone. This time we went on foot, as no one could even joke about taking the horses again. The hike up the mountain was very steep and about three hours long. We reached 3,800 meters elevation, or about 12,500 feet high (according to my online calculations). We were winded and stopped for the occasional M&M or empanada break. It was bright, warm and sunny the entire time.

Then it hailed.

We were within a half hour’s reach of the butterflies. A giant, ominous cloud swept over the mountaintop and blanketed us with a dismal gray. We all remained pretty slaphappy, as there are only so many ways to cope when you’re freezing, miserable and a two-hour hike from the bottom. When the hail hit the dirt it looked a bit like bird poop. In some spots further down the path it looked like it had snowed. But trek onward we did to the butterfly spot. None were fluttering around, but from the thick clusters on the trees, I’d guess we would’ve seen more that day than Saturday. However, I did get the cynical pleasure of seeing an entire trail carpeted with dead monarchs. They also looked like leaves, but this time we had to step on them.

Finally we reached the bottom, our newly found walking sticks our saviors. A small community runs the touring, horse and hiking operations, and when we returned, we had a delicious meal awaiting us at a restaurant/house. They took our drenched sweatshirts, hung them to dry over a stove and gave us their own fleeces to shiver in. The first course was a very warm tortilla soup with cups of café de olla, coffee made with sugar and spices. We ate very tasty trucha empapelada, which is fresh trout wrapped in aluminum foil and cooked over a stove with peppers, onions and tomatoes inside. For dessert, apples in condensed milk (some kind of milk-like syrup, at least). And, lest I forget, a large bottle of Jose Cuervo. Before sunset, one of the men drove us back in his big van and dropped us off at the bus station, where we changed into our dry clothes (read: pajamas) and giddily celebrated our warmth.

Things that make me smile

Last night, while taking a cab back from a delicious taco feast prepared by Emma & Chris, my taxi stopped at a red light and next to a 'lady of the night.' Together, Drew, the cab driver and myself took turns deciphering the gender. I saw no Adam's apple, but was overruled 2-1 that it was indeed a tranny in shiny red pleather and a tube top.

One week down

My first week back to D.F. so far has been great, if not a little mundane at times. I'm hoping to get out of the city for a night this weekend or perhaps even out of the apartment for a while.

I've had two official days of school thus far. I have to clock in/out with time punch thing, which I haven't quite mastered yet, but which one coworker said doesn't matter (hopefully it's not some sort of preschool hazing trap she's set). The day is a bit easier now that there's more structure, but I've still been a bit lazy about developing plans and coming into class each day wearing my game face. For example, I'll be going to watch 'Solo un Sueño' (Revolutionary Road) at 9:30 p.m. instead of Googling more songs to sing. My favorite class is the group of six-year-olds...they're the best-trained puppies in the litter. And sometimes they ask to do things, so I say 'yes' because it sounds better than the idea I didn't have.

Unfortunately, I hear some of their voices when I go to sleep. Particularly the little curly-headed, cross-eyed girl whose face lights up when she sees me and screams "Maeeeeeeah!" She's also the same child who screams "chinga tu madre" (kinda like "mother f-er") at various intervals. I also enjoy the Korean girl whose mother feeds her corn dogs for breakfast and lunch each day. I think she'll fit in should she ever chose to visit the U.S. And the little boy who clearly will become a heartbreaker in 20 years and who I strangely favor because I know this. Does it sound like I like these kids? Lord, I hope not. The head English instructor now tells everyone I speak no Spanish at all, but I play along with her in a "stupid me!" sort of way in front of parents. But she still talks to me in Spanish, so I suppose now it's just for show.

Not much else is new, except the tender touches of Mexico City that make me giggle to myself now and again. Like the eyeglasses company that hires a man to dress up as a clown with long, neon blue pants that slide over his stilts as he waves to cars and bewildered gringas that pass by. Or last Thursday, after a late-night interview, when my source said it was just a close walk from his office to the Metro station and that I didn't need a taxi. Turns out it was a bit of a walk, and this neighborhood was kinda ghetto (even for D.F.). To my luck, I ran into a mother-son duo selling enormous bouquets of Mylar balloons alongside a busy street (I know the brand name from working at Kroger). They too were heading towards the Metro to hawk their wares, so we walked together and, at the end, I bought Drew a nice little heart-shaped Tweety balloon reading "te quiero mucho," or "love you lots." After covering the graffiti contest on a Saturday afternoon, the photographer and I went out for coffee with his friend and we later encountered an antiques shop in my borough. It's where things you didn't need 40 years ago go to die. Except, of course, when I was looking through old posters for my psych-ward white bedroom walls, what was the first poster I pulled out? Harry Potter. Movie #1. I didn't buy it because, well, these people were cooler than I am, but I'll probably go back for it later.

Well, enough of me talking about myself. Hope you're all doing well, I guess.

Still gringa

Damas y caballeros,

I made it safe and sound to Mexico City, and I'm so glad to be back! It's still a bit surreal to be here again, especially considering just three days ago I was wearing pajamas midday and feasting on Cheezits. It's a weird feeling though...I feel like I fell right back into place with the city and all my friends here, but at the same time, I feel completely new and unfamiliar to the city, as if I'm here for the first time. I'm living in the same 'colonia' as last time, but I'm significantly further north. For example, it took me about 40 minutes to walk to the Starbucks from which I'm currently typing. It used to take me 10. Oops! The man behind me is lovingly stroking his ferret as I type. I'm still in the process of finding my replacement go-to spots, like the bakery, pharmacy, sandwhich shop, etc., but I'm sure it's nothing sensible footwear and an adventurous spirit can't fix!

My apartment is great. Paul and his mom put together just about everything over the weekend, so most of it is settled. The living/dining area is very open and has a balcony that looks out over the city. It's prettier at night though, as I realized today while eating lunch out there that many of our surrounding buildings are abandoned or eyesores. Latin America's tallest skyscraper, Torre Mayor, is also five blocks in front of us, so that consumes most of the view. My room is a "quaint" little space just off the kitchen. It's the would-be maid's quarters, so it's pretty small, but the rent is cheap (hence why I'm living in it). We'll be installing some shelves and putting in a bookcase soon to give me more storage space. I have a walk-in closet though!!! Well, technically it is also my bathroom, and my clothes rack is within arm's reach of the toilet (hence why I bought an air freshner). I also have some plastic shelves stacked to serve as a dresser. The toilet is currently out of order, but hopefully it will be flushing again soon! I have a huge sink, as most of it includes a built-in washboard. There is a shower, but it's pretty unsightly and is in the same tiled space as the sink, so I'll be alternating between Drew's and Paul's for showers.

Tomorrow I'm heading into The News to meet with the new Living editor. I have an assignment this weekend, covering the 2nd annual graffiti contest/exhibition in Estadio Azteca. I'm very thrilled to be working again as a journalist. It's very effective in boosting my self-esteem. I'm not sure when or if they'll have a job for me, but in the meanntime I'll be freelancing and writing as much as I can.

Today was my first day of orientation at the preschool. It's about a 20 minute walk from my house, so it's a perfect location. I'll be working 8:30-1, M-Th and teaching three classes a day. I also get my own smock and a button with my name on it! This week, parents are registering their kids for next year, so I just sat around mostly and read four-year-olds' phonics books. I'll be writing daily lesson plans and have the head lady checking my book the week in advance. I hope she's not alarmed by my repeated attempts to institute nap time or sniff rubber cement.

I was slightly annoyed that the woman in charge of the English program kept telling my future colleagues that I hardly speak any Spanish at all. When I corrected her, she just kind of rolled her eyes. But I realize I'm the biggest English influence there now, as the only native speaker (as far as I know). Even the instructors want to improve their English by speaking to me. So...so much for that Spanish degree, I guess! I observed one class of four-year-olds and, much to my horror, was left alone to teach about 10 three-year-olds. I think only one or two children actually said anything at all, despite my desperate pleas to name off the days of the week or animals on flashcards. I sang "head, shoulders, knees and toes" twice by myself. Then I suggested we color, and they actually responded to that...though one kid refused to put down a fork for a Crayola. Some of them ended up eating the crayons, but fortunately the clock struck 1 p.m. and I was out the door! All of the teachers seem really friendly and helpful, though I'm still not sure if I should speak to them in English or Spanish.

I'm still adjusting quite a bit to life back in Mexico City, though I can unequivocably say I'm glad I came back to stay. I miss and love you all!!!

Maestra Maria

Mexico Round Two

Dearest Readers,

I've decided to take my massive e-mails to the interweb, allowing you to stalk me at your own liberty, and allowing me to inundate you with as many details as I want. I finished my internship with the Associated Press in December; it was both a great learning experience and an amazing time in the city. After a month of soul-searching (i.e. applying for jobs online while watching Law & Order marathons), I've decided to head back to D.F. on Feb. 8. I'll be sharing an apartment with Drew, the beloved Brit who shared my house last time, and Paul, a fellow gringo.

For the first few months, I'll be teaching English part-time at a preschool while continuing to freelance with local newspapers. You might be asking yourself "Does Maria have any teaching experience?" Not really. But I was always good at sculpting PlayDoh, so here's hoping! By June, I hope to have secured a full-time reporting position, in D.F. or any place that will take me. If not, I suppose the world is still my oyster, or something like that.

That's all for now. Miss & love you all! (not you, Claire).