Spring cleaning

As you probably noticed within seconds after the fact, I deleted all my stories from The News and transferred them over to my second blog, http://mariagalluccistorytime.blogspot.com/

Don't act like you aren't excited to stalk me twice.

Anyway, I just figured now that I'm writing part-time the blogosphere was getting a bit cluttered. I know that sometimes you want hardcore facts about culture in Mexico City, and other times you just want to hear the smooth, easy breeze of my literary voice. So now you can have both in two easy-to-take doses!

Today's terror included another set of tremors as a 5.7 magnitude earthquake hit Puebla, about 90 miles southeast of D.F. I wasn't that scared this time because I knew what was happening, and because I wasn't alone. In fact, I was with three middle-schoolers who are competing in an upcoming national spelling bee. We hosted the interview in a conference room at The News, and in the middle of the round-table talk everything just got really, really wobbly. Fortunately adults were also present (I don't consider myself an adult) so they maintained the calm in the room. It was kinda funny to hear our reactions on my recorder as I played back the interviews to transcribe this evening. The weirdest part for me about tremors is the aftershock...it feels as if the ground is still trembling and the chair is still moving on its own even for a few minutes after everything real has stopped. Eeeerie.

But back to the topic of spring cleaning, tomorrow I'm starting to shift my things into the master bedroom! Drew has set off on his post-university vacations before he returns home to England, and now that I work 50+ wonderful hours a week, I don't need to pay centavos for the glorified closet.

First, I must buy curtains for the floor-length window that takes up most of one of the walls. Drew suffered through a few months without any, leaving him exposed to frequent peeping through my small square window. I'm contemplating painting a wall, but that seems more like fantasy than real ambition. I also plan to buy a bunch of 5-peso Virgen de Guadalupe candles which, though intended for altar purposes, add a nice little touch of purple, yellow, green or blue translucent plastic wherever they go. I've been wanting to buy houseplants for a while, and after writing the plant story I feel as though the time has come to purchase a nice Draceana or Piña Anona.

I decided to feel crafty by starting to save all the glass jars in our house, for storing beans or rice or creating toothbrush and hairband holders. I like to think that the Mason jar look has a certain hipster, eco-friendly appeal instead of tacky and possibly homeless. Maybe I'll steal some stickers from the preschool and give them a nice sparkly makeover.

Cash money

It is often said in Mexico that having a 500-peso bill is as good as having no money at all. Grocery stores are really the only place you can walk into with confidence and expect to get change. Go into an Oxxo convenience store and expect to either put up a huge fuss before getting change ("aaaaayyyy, es que no traigo caaaaambio") or to walk out of the store without your item. They would rather not change your 500-peso bill than make a sale.

So imagine my horror/bemusement when I cashed a 12,000-peso paycheck today at my neighborhood Banamex and received three 1,000-peso bills (or US$ 230.50). I considered protesting but then realized I had a bazillion 500-peso bills and probably took the bank lady's last one. Then I realized that next month's rent will cost 3500 pesos as I move from the maid's quarters to the master bedroom, and while my slumlord is my friend and roommate, it's a chihuahua-eat-chihuahua world here (ugh).

I should have more shame

What to buy when the 800 pesos in your wallet are getting in the way.

A gift from a student for Teacher's Day (we also got candy, roses, and I think I caught a sneak peek at some finger-painted slippers). I'm a little nervous that this apron puts me on the track to be wearing thick sweater cardigans with plastic holiday trinkets sewn on the front. I'll keep you posted come 4th of July should I find myself in a stars-and-stripes bedazzled ensemble.

Back to School Special

8:15 a.m: Presenting a united front against the swine flu, us teachers lined up at the entrance wearing rubber gloves and surgical masks to assure parents that indeed our school would be a safe haven from epidemic. The children were clearly frightened by our mad scientist-like look, and we had to constantly lower our masks so they could recognize our faces. Surgical masks later became a jovial peek-a-boo device for my 1-year-old school crush.

8:45 a.m: Classes begin and my poor teaching skills are worsened further by my new inabilities to flip through flashcards, effectively shame children (because I look like a doctor/clown) or speak without having the mask slide down my face.10:30 a.m: I move out of my basement classroom for my 2-hour help period with the toddlers. Everyone has taken off the gloves and shoved their masks off their faces. The charade is over.

1:00 p.m: Parents start trickling in to retrieve their snot monsters. Masks and gloves go on.
[In my defense, I worked a 12-hour day today, so you can't blame this post on me having too much free time. You can blame it on me being vain, though].

Kiss from a Rose

This is what happens when you interview a flower vendor: He gives you a rose and a creepy wink ;)

The Great Swine Flu Escape

The best way to deal with an oppressive, depressing city on lockdown? Leave!

For the rest of the world, last Friday was Labor Day, which actually meant something to the part of Mexico City's labor force that hasn't been off since Monday (by the way, my school might be canceled for two entire weeks). I drove down to Playa Bonfil outside Acapulco with Laura, our new friend Jonathan and my fourth floor neighbors and potential BFFs Roberto and Aram. We spent the night on the beach and were eventually joined around the campfire by some Bonfilian surfers and a man with drums, fondly named Jimmy Drums. He tried to get Laura and I first to dance for everyone, then to play the drums and then to sing, forcing me to hide behind my fro curtain while I waited for the heckling to subside. I hate him.

After a slow morning Saturday, we traded Jonathan for Paul, squeezed in tight and drove five hours north to Playa Michigan, a virgin beach near Zihuatanejo. After much pleading and begging from the three boys, Laura and I finally conceded to let them play Backstreet Boys as we bumped along the sandy path to the beach parking lot. They're really greedy like that. Car parked and luggage in hand, we boarded a small motor boat, or lancha, and crossed the lake to the beach. The only real development on the island are the tall thatch huts, stinky bathroom and shower stalls, piles of coconut husks for firewood and the corresponding restaurants that maintain the camping spaces, charging less than a dollar per night. There's no electricity, cell phone service or Facebook...it was hell.

As we wandered aimlessly through the maze of identical huts and tents, we serendipitously ran into Enzué and four Frenchies shortly after landing.
Tents pitched and bikinis fastened, we played in the amazingly intense and potentially murderous waves after a 30 second sprint from our camp across the blazing sand. Enzué, Laura and I explored the beach a bit, finding ourselves completely isolated and perhaps trespassing; we later engaged in hammock swinging and gross quesadilla consumption. After a quick lancha ride down the coast, our carpool team swam in the velvety but suspiciously warm and motionless lake, separated from the ocean by a thin strip of sand.

A golden sunset soon kissed the ocean's lips with its ardent haze...and then we got beer. Our hut neighbors lent us some space around their coconut-wood fire, the rhythms of an ipod pulsing through Paul's seven-dollar speakers. Others grilled hot dogs while I sipped slowly from my styrafoam cup, judging. When the beachside raucousness subsided, we snuggled against the hard floor of the sand from inside our tents and woke up when the smothering heat of the sun refused to back off. Sick of the clear sky, the crash of waves and all of God's splendor, we piled back into the car for what would turn out to be a 10 hour ride home (my favorite!).

ADDENDUM: I left out the best part of the whole trip...running on the beach at dusk with Aram and Laura. Of course I won by at least a mile.


EPILOGUE: Less than 24 hours after the reluctant end to the Great Swine Flu Escape, I had my first day as a payrolled reporter at The News! Everything went well, but the paper is horrendously slow right now as most city-wide events have been canceled and because Monday and Tuesday are national holidays. I mostly just took care of some paperwork and fingerprint scanning (fancy) and set off to find some inspiration for stories. Things will probably be a little complicated as I continue to teach at the preschool, but hopefully I can move full speed ahead come July!