Happy Taco Day!

That's right.  It's National Taco Day here in Mexico.  I celebrated appropriately by having market tacos (reduced from 11 pesos to 9 for the holiday!) and an horchata.  I suppose, considering I'm in Mexico, it's not so strange that there's a Taco Day.  It struck me as odd at first, but I guess it only makes sense.  However, something that is odd, is that it was a holiday today, but we still had classes.  All of them!

Guille picked me up and dropped me off from school.  Spanish class was good and yoga was great.  All in a Mexican Taco Day's work!

Time Difference

I knew I was being picked up on Monday morning, but I didn't know what time or by whom.  Maribel had given me strict orders to not ride the bus, and I heeded my mother's comment from the earlier blog.  

I decided to get up at 7:30 since it was not likely this person would pick me up before 8.  My first class is at 8:50, so I thought it was possible the driver would be there closer to 8:45.

By 8 I was ready, but no one was there, so I put my cell phone in my hand and climbed back in bed.  I knew whoever came would get lost and call me.  Not to mention Mamá Alma was downstairs and would come get me if someone showed up looking for me.

At 9:30, I woke up and realized no one had come yet.  I texted Maribel to let her know.  I would've just ridden the bus, but, well, see sentence 2 of this entry.  She texted me back saying she was in a meeting but would call me.

About fifteen minutes later, I had a text saying to meet her at yoga.  I was out the door.

Whoever had been sent had gotten lost and I guess had not bothered to call anyone to let them know I was on my own for travel today!

Maribel took me to school and chatted with Sandra to figure out what to do about getting to school until they fixed the road (could be three months!).  Sandra offered to come get me.  Through more conversations later, we realized that Guille (6th grade) lives near me and didn't mind swinging by a meeting place for me.  It's halfway between my house and my bus stop, so I'll be walking less!

Again, there's that Mexican helping spirit.

One, Two, Three, Tamarindo!

At the party on Saturday night, the banda played a song called "Tamarindo."  Actually, that may not be the name of the song, but the repeating line is the title of this entry, starting with English numbers.

My friends were all singing and asked me how to say tamarindo en English.  I didn't even know what it was except that it was a fruit.  Alma couldn't translate it either.  Karla proceeded to draw this fruit, but suffice it to say she has no career in art!  After several explanations by all involved, we decided it was just a fruit that we don't have in the US.  I was content with this answer.  They solved the translation issue by saying the word without rolling the r and using a gringo accent.  We all got several laughs out of that.  

The girls decided I needed to experience a tamarindo, so we said Sunday would be the day for a raspado de tamarindo.  I was okay with that given it's been months since I've had a raspado.  They then started making a list of all the cultural foods and drinks (Tecate excluded) from here that I must try before I leave.  

Sunday, after we got back from Alma's grandmother's house and she and Lenin went to his family's house, I got a text from Mayrita saying they'd come pick me up at 8:30 to go get raspados.  

The three of us went to pick up Mayra Loca and met up with Karla and her friend (Graciela?) at the malecón.  Raspachos, Mabel's favorite raspado-maker, sets up a cart on the malecón on Sundays.  Think of the malecón as the walking version of Glasgow's cruising strip.

Mayrita bought my icee and then we went to get the Mexicans some warm food.  They were all whiny about the "cold" as I chomped on my frozen delicacy.  The tamarindo flavor is good, but they fruit is really seedy, and the kind of seeds you can't eat.  So from here on out, I'll be sticking to piña or other flavors that are seedless.

When we finished hanging out there, and after Chapo and Lenin had joined us, we decided it was dinner time.  Having only had soup and birthday cake for lunch hours before, I was happy to tag along.  Even though it was 10:30 and I needed to get in bed for school, I dealt with it!

We went to Emporio Sushi (that had not been my favorite, by the way, but that serves half-orders, so that's a bonus), but it was closed.  We all laughed at my Vasito tale.

We made our way to The Sushi Factory (I kid you not; that's the name) and enjoyed a very late dinner.  When the bill came (330 pesos for 5 people), Lenin paid for it all.  Instead of getting bent out of shape, I just said thank you, realizing I had done the same thing just a week before.

How could I forget Vasito?!

I forgot that on Saturday, while rotating clean and wet clothes around my room to have their turn close to the fan, I took a lunch break to grab some sushi.  There's a place very near the house that I had never tried.  It's called Emporio Sushi, and since our hotel in Mazatlán was called Emporio and was amazing, I figure I can expect the same from the sushi.

My vision was to study some from my GRE book while eating alone.  I had been very busy with laundry, so it was close to 3:30 when I left the house.  Little did I know this would hurt my chances for eating!  The place was packed (a good sign for quality), so I decided I would just order to go and study at home, amidst my wet clothes.  I walked in, iPod still going and made my way back to the back to order.  I noticed eyes on me.  Yep, you guessed it; Vasito walked into the restaurant behind me.  I mean,  he kills me.

I pushed him out, went to order, and turned around to find him again!  He had walked in with another person.

The third time this happened, I decided it would be better for me to wait outside with him.

That dog!

Sunday Lunch with the Family

Sunday lunch was an almost weekly event.  Well, if we're going to be technical, Sunday lunch is a weekly event since I always eat lunch and Sunday happens every week.  But what I mean is that the post-church get together for food has a tradition in most churches.  When I was in high school, it was always with the youth group.  Mom typically had lunch or we could go out to eat, but of course in high school, I needed to be with the cool kids.

College led to Sunday lunches almost always at Mazatlan (pronounced MAHZZ-uh-lawn to most Nashvillians, but I will never be able to say it like that again!) because that's where we could afford and it was relatively fast.

Post-college has taken me to a new tradition.  At least once a month, and usually more often, Ashley and I go to her parents' house or out to eat with them after church.  The Vicki-cooked meal is always welcome.  And while I boycotted the restaurant lunch for a bit feeling guilty eating on their dime, yet realizing they wouldn't let me pay, I eventually gave in.

Apparently Alma's family has the Sunday lunch thing going, too.  This past Sunday was her aunt Gaby's birthday lunch (Gaby is the one who rode with Mamá Alma to take Mom to the airport at 5:30 am!).  We celebrated with pozole, a reddish soup with special corn, meat, and the occasional bone.  Even when it is not a birthday, though, the clan gets together.  Mamá Alma is the oldest of ten: four girls and 6 boys.  Wow.  The past few Sundays we have been busy and unable to go, but I was thankful I got to participate this week!  Guests are always welcome (as at pretty much any Mexican function).  Mamá Alma introduced me as her other daughter to those I had not yet met.  We got there two hours later than most (Alma takes her sleeping in seriously on Sundays since it's the only day she can), but the conversation was nowhere near finished.  We chatted, joked, and sat in precious few moments of very comfortable familial silence.  At one point, they were all making jokes and laughing in such a way that I thought about every holiday at Grandmother's.  We tell the same stories and laugh at the same jokes year after year.  It gets old, yet never gets old.

I tried to picture this weekly coming and going in the US and I couldn't place it.  There's always the next place on the list to go.  The next "to do" to cross off.

Will I ever fit back into my former, anal, organized and planned to the second self?  (And why am I bothering thinking about this now with 4 months to go?!)

Manga Larga (Long sleeves)

Saturday night, we had a birthday party (shocker) for a friend of Lenin's.  Through a facebook chat with Rocio, I found out that half of our friends were unavailable anyway, due to a poker bet.  The girls (Liliana, Topete's "not-girlfriend," and two others that I can't remember right now) lost to the guys (obviously Renato, Topete and the other two) a few weeks ago and had to prepare a carne asada and buy the beer.  No one else was invited.  Bummer.  I was craving carne asada.

Alma prepared me around 7 for our 9-10 pm departure (what a range, right?) for said party.  She also said that it was cold outside, so she was going to wear jeans (duh) and long sleeves.

Hm.  I've been out in the middle of the night and chilly, so I thought for once, I might be nativesque and wear long sleeves.  I was cute, for those of you who care: black button up, collared shirt, white "cucumber" earrings (as Andy would say), and a black and white polka-dot headband.   Jeans and my trademark black flops.  Of course it was much later when we left.  Closer to 10:30.  We picked up Mayrita and called to check in on Chapo and Karla.  Rene (Foca) and Jair made an appearance as well.

I was the only one in long sleeves.  I wanted to take a picture, and should have.  Almost all of my pictures from December through now have me in a tube top or sleeveless while all the Mexicans are in jackets, scarves, etc.  I must admit that I was comfortable, and almost still chilly.  The others were visibly shivering.  I have finally arrived (How many times have I said that already this year?)!

Chauffeur

On Saturday, I did what seemed like 47 loads of laundry.  It was only 3 (or was it 4?), but it was quite the balancing act trying to get stuff hung in my room and around the house.  There are lines out back, but there are also many trees.  And many birds.  You do the math.

It took hours to get stuff hung up, rotated, and dried, but I ended with a clean room, which always makes me feel good (no family or roommate cracks here about how long that lasts, though I think my roommate think I do a decent job of staying neat).

I was at the end of this vicious hang/rotate/move to bed cycle when Alma got home from her Saturday job at Centro de Idiomas.  We chatted for a minute and then she said, "Hey.  I heard you have a chauffeur."

This is the first you've heard of it I know.

Well, Starting on Monday of last week, when we left school, there was no bus (you might recall that from a previous entry).  Thankfully, it's because the bus was further down the road where it's already paved due to the roadblock of all the dirt piled up from the leveling process.  This paved road will make lots of people happy.  The process, in turn, is making lots of people unhappy (and annoyed).

Tuesday was the first morning I was dropped off at the dirt pile.  That afternoon, we rode in Anabel's (the not so pleasant first grade teacher) "minibus" as she called it.  She took all the bus riders around to where the road is paved again so we wouldn't have to walk so much in the sun.  That kind of helping spirit, while uncharacteristic of this particular teacher, is so much a part of what it is to be Mexican.

Wednesday morning, I was shocked (and further annoyed) to find that the bus route was much shorter, meaning I had more dirt road path to walk than before.  Since this was the week of the English Festival, I was there earlier than usual every day.  I got to school long before 8.  Usually closer to 7:40.

Wednesday morning, I got there, I had some things to print, so I settled myself into the office.  Of course my world was about to fall apart as there was no toner and the printer was acting up.  That came later (and I'll not revisit the issue).  What happened as I was sitting there was that Chaguito (the custodian) arrived in a huff and puff.  She's very dramatic and a complainer (not to mention she speaks to me in some unknown sign language), so I typically ignore her until she has sent smoke signals letting me know she wants my attention.

She waved me down and asked me how I go to school.  (Just the day before she had said how she may not be able to come to work since the bus wouldn't get her there.  When the principal told her she'd need to leave earlier to allow time for the walking part, she blew up and whined.  Nice.)  I told her I came by bus and went about my work at the computer.  "But, did you walk?"  I avoided the obvious sarcasm of, "No, I flew," or something of the sort, shook my head yes, and got back to work.

She went into an all out story about how she had been chased when she got off the bus.

I'll admit now with a little guilt that I didn't completely buy it at the time.  But there had been a 5th grader that was chased, too.  Sweet Jasiel.  I had seen his mom and little brother come into school to talk to the principal, so I put it together that this was true.

This did not scare me.  The thought of someone chasing me on my way to work didn't seem particularly appetizing, but I also didn't see it happening (Which is what you think right before it happens, right?  I know.).  This whole week I had been taking my laptop to school to transfer things, print things, burn CDs, etc.  I made a mental note to not take my laptop to school on Thursday.  To wear tennis shoes.  And to carry only my 24 pesos needed to get my four buses.  I decided against iPod, book, and backpack.  

I made it fine on Thursday.  I almost felt foolish.  All was fine.  I spoke to several people on my walk through the dirt path.

I had, however, emailed Maribel to fill her in so she would know to take her car to school on Friday instead of riding the bus.  I wanted her there on time if I had to do this stupid Festival.

She emailed me back and asked me if I were scared.  I was honest with her and told her no, but that was probably stupid naivete (is that redundant?).  

This is why she picked me up Friday morning.  She also told me to email her my address and directions to get there (I'm that good already!) to her so she could work out a ride for me all next week.  Granted the following two weeks will be spring break.  Then it's minutely possible the roads will be fixed.  We'll see.

Anyway, she said she and Ana Luisa were all worked up and that I was not to ride the bus again until the road was fixed.

Again, I have great guardian angels here.  There's a little more to their interest, too, since the applicants for next year's Fulbright have been selected and have to make their decision in the next few days.  I am a resource for the teacher who may or may not accept the exchange for Culiacán.  Obviosuly if I'm robbed/chased on the way to school, that won't fare well for the odds of this teacher's participation this year.

For now, I'm taking the free ride and not questioning motives.

Martha, 1st grade teacher, extraordinaire

Martha is the 1st grade teacher that I truly admire.  (She and the 5th grade teacher are in competition in my mind for most improved class award, meaning they started with really tough groups and ended up with the best-behaved and my favorite groups.  More on that later, in my emotional "I'm leaving BOO HOO HOO" entry.)  

On Friday, when we were debating what to do with the kids for that thirty minutes in between formation and the event, the decision was made that the kids would go to class for thirty minutes and the parents could set up their stands of food.

I ran around like crazy making sure all my speakers were there, making sure everyone was dressed for their parts, and making sure all questions were answered.  

Most of the kids were out running around.  There were some carnival type games set up.  I went to Martha's room for some reason, and there she was- with all her kids in their seats- teaching!  She does what she's supposed to do.  All the while cultivating a very welcoming culture for her students.  I love her style.  It reminds me of home.

"Ahora" revisited

So I mentioned long ago that while ahora means "now," the actual definition of now is closer to that of Andy's than mine.

For my English Festival, I had a song that I thought 2nd and 3rd grade might sing (they opted out at the last minute, and since we'd be starting to practice it at the last minute, I thought that was a good plan), I had Daddy Yankee's song "Pose" three times as background to the fashion show, and I had a country song for 6th grade to line dance.  I'm terrible with the speaker/microphone/etc at this school, so I asked the PE teacher for some help.  After we figured out what to play when, he asked me when we would get started.  (He had a field trip of sorts and needed to leave.)  "Now," was my answer, given that it was already a little after 8:30.  "¿A qué horas?" was his response.  This is another thing I've had to learn.  "¿Cuándo?" (When?) refers only to days.  If you want to ask today when something will start today, you have to ask, "At what time?"  My response stayed the same, "Ahora."  

"Pero, ¿A qué horas?"

And still, I'm responding, only now, more emphatically, "Now."

At that, I walked out of the office, grabbed the mic, and got started.  Only after I started the event did I realize where we had lost it in translation.  Now here is not now.  It's sometime in the (hopefully near) future.

Someday that will be ingrained in my brain.  Until then, I'll struggle!

English Event

On Tuesday, Geno and the other new special ed teacher, Sandra (not my Sandra) asked me if I needed help with anything for my big event on Friday.  I nonchalantly declined any help.  Then I remembered where I was.  Mexico.  Where the show in more important than the content.  And here I am in a place where I don't have easy transportation to get to an unknown place to buy things for the dog and pony show.  (I learned the lesson that things aren't always where a gringa would expect when I went on the lightbulb hunt at Walmart.  No success.)

Anyway, I told them a welcome sign might be nice.  I had visions of a poster with some painted letters on it.  They kept brainstorming with me and we came up with the American flag as well.

The picture you see above is the result of their two days of hard work (and lack of seeing the students at school that need extra support).  It looks great, but when I left school Friday after a 45 minute performance, I couldn't help but think, "Was it worth the trouble?!"

Maribel picked me up for school on Friday (more on why in another entry).  I was waiting for her in front of my yoga place, but she hadn't answered any of my texts saying I'd be there at 7:30, that I wanted to get to school early to get some things ready and to practice with some of my groups.  My second text said that I was there a little early, but that I had crossed the street to be in the shade.  

Luckily I was on my observation game, because I saw her pull up.  She didn't seem to see me, though, and I soon realized why!  I knocked on her window and she jumped.  She had dropped her phone in the toilet!  So it wouldn't make or receive calls or texts.  She was clearly frantic trying to figure out how she would maneuver today without being able to contact me!

We got to school and I did some running around to get the details worked out.  It was set to start at 8:30, so the principal was trying to figure out what to do until 8:30 so the parents wouldn't leave. 

We began promptly at 8:38.  Arcelia (5th grade) introduced Maribel, who in turn gave a welcome.  I called the first graders out to the "court" and they sang "Head, Arms, Legs and Feet," before I interviewed four girls about their creatures' bodies and the shapes that made them.  I was so impressed with their cute little accents and their sentence-constructing ability (granted it was from pure memorization, but that's an early step in language production).

Next was the presentation of professions by second and third grade.  Those who wanted to dress up had dressed up.  A representative from each profession spoke three sentences (beginning: I'm a, I wear, and I work in).  They did an acceptable job, and thankfully they were short; they held the attention of their parents, which is more than I can say for the 4th and 5th graders...

This was my favorite group.  The fourth and fifth grades had studied clothes early on in the year, so we did a wacky fashion show.  The fourth grade was less creative and only dressed in their parents' clothes, so their descriptions consisted mostly of the word "big."  The fifth graders went all out and had leggings, shorts and skirts all at the same time.  They had sunglasses and scarves.  They went all out.  

After they decided and drew a picture of what they were going to wear, I had them write sentences about their clothing.  Three fifth grade girls read the descriptions while Daddy Yankee's "Pose" played in the background.  The show took a little too long, and the parents lost interest, but I was beaming.  The girls had clearly practiced (Stefany, God love her, had a really hard time with "t-shirt," confusing the "ch" sound for the "sh" sound.  Finally she got the "sh" right, and then forgot the r!  I told her she had to make sure she said shiRt!)

The final act was sixth grade.  They had memorized (for the most part) their parts and spent the next 4-5 minutes talking about me, Nashville, and Tennessee.  They ended with a rendition of the Tush Push dance I had taught them.

Whew!  It was over!

It was not gorgeous, but there were definitely pride-worthy moments.  It was no dog and pony show, because I'm incapable, but it was a quality production for at least half the group!

Maribel and I decided to make our exit since there was nothing left to the day besides the kermés, which is basically a chance for the moms to cook something, sell it, and give the profits to the school.

As we were walking out, Geno stopped us and asked me to give her my wrist.  She makes jewelry and had started a bracelet for me.  She wanted to see how many more beads she needed.  Love her.

Retail Therapy

After a week of sleepless nights (going out to eat with Lenin, Cristian, Chapo and the appropriate girls that go with; birthday bowling until late; tea with caffeine too close to bedtime; an English event on my mind; 6am wake up calls each day), I came home from my event and slept for about three hours.  I then decided to spend some of the birthday money Mom left me.  I know that in two weeks, when I'm in the silver metropolis of Taxco, I'm going to regret today's purchases, but such is life!

I made it out of Zara with two $20 knit dresses (one purple and one black because I'm finally realizing you should buy two when you love something because later you'll want it and it'll be gone) and a pair of not-$20 shoes.

Passing through Liverpool to get to my bus, I paid for the bathing suit that I had tried on when I came into the mall.  It's cute.  Trust me.  And it will help with the tan lines on Spring Break!

Then I went shoe shopping.  I realize I said I just bought shoes at Zara, but the whole purpose of shopping today was actually shoe stores in downtown.  However, when I was leaving the house, Alma was coming home for lunch and asked me where I was going.  I told her I needed to shop and she asked if I were going to Forum.  It's not my fault.  Totally Alma's fault.

I got some flip flops and some heels.  

I also got another dress in a shop on the street.  It looks like it was made for me.  You'll just have to take my word for it until I wear it and get pictures!

I got home and felt better having spent my money on some cute stuff.  Now I'll save for two weeks so I can buy all the silver my little heart ever desired.

God has smiled on me....

I think that's the beginning of either a church camp song or a mission trip song or a Children's Bible Hour song.

At any rate, there were days this week that I wondered if maybe God were actually frowning on me!  Wednesday, for example, when I needed to meet with all SEVEN of my classes and we dismissed at 11:15.

Or Monday, when after a long day of attempting to rushedly explain to all my students that they had to bring in something creative (following a poorly explained description) on Tuesday for their performance on Friday, I took my computer to Forum to get the dial-up de-bugged.  I had to leave it there.  When I went back two hours later (having skipped Spanish due to the computer, but blaming it on my birthday, which apparently is acceptable in Mexico), it has died due to lack of charge.  I had fortunately thought of that on my way there, so I had my charger.  TWO HOURS LATER I also had my computer.  Bug-free.  I missed yoga that night, too.  And I coulda used it!

But then there was Thursday, when I felt God smiling on me.  I worked with the weeded out first graders who had drawn or created a body out of shapes.  When I asked them, "Where is your head?" they could point to it.  When I asked, "What shape is your head?" they could say, "My head is a rectangle."  I must admit, with their near native (ahem, thank you very much!) accent, a complete sentence in English from a 1st grader is mighty impressive!

The 2nd and 3rd graders had a mere three sentences to write (okay, okay, three blanks to fill in, but still), and they did it both well and quickly!

4th and 5th grade was going to do a fashion show and they were so thankfully able to write their sentences more of less independently, leaving only corrections that I could do at home.

And finally, God bless those 6th graders!  They had almost memorized their 10 minute dialogue (10 of them) and were excited about it!

I left school on Thursday refreshed thinking I might actually pull it off! 

I still knew that it would not be a production that could compete with something I would do in the US (if I eve were to do that kind of thing!), but it would make the cut for Mexico and for basically 2.5 days of preparation!

The show today was not great by any means.  The parents stopped listening after the first graders.  I almost don't blame them.  It would be very boring to someone who doesn't speak the language.  Also, the reason my kids are always talking in class is because their parents (and society) are always talking always.  Wherever they are.  No matter who else is talking!  I have witnessed this in faculty meetings and conferences.  There is never silence.  Ever.  Even in my Spanish class, it seems acceptable to take a cell phone call in the middle of class, as long as you're not making eye contact with anyone and somewhat whispering.

So my performance today did not command the attention of all parents.  But it's over.  And spring break is JUST around the corner!

Slow Learner

I'm usually pretty quick on the uptake (is that the phrase?).  I like to think of myself as a learn-it-quickly-so-I-don't-have-to-be-re-taught kind of girl.

You be the judge.

Today marks five weeks that I've lived with Alma.  I would not trade it for anything.  She was good to me before, calling about once every other week to let me know what was going on and offer to pick me up.  However, now that I live with her, we just up and go at the drop of a hat, literally almost every night.  Her friends were my acquaintances before I moved in, but now they're the people about whom I will cry because I'm leaving them...

Enough sadness.

My point is this.   I am SOOOOO happy here.  So happy, in fact, that the little nuances like 4am roosters and 6am birds don't get to me.  I still notice them, but I get over it because my life here feels perfect.  Mamá Alma's cooking and Vasito's guarding make up for the hot afternoons (Mamá Alma had a window unit installed in my room on Wednesday.  It will be put to use soon!).  The other small thing that I missed (but not enough by any means to go back) from Mabel's house was her hot, strong shower.  The shower here is strong.  And it's hot.  At first.

I have just enough time to wash my hair, lather up one leg with shaving cream and relieve most of that leg of its hair before the water turns cold.  Shaving in cold water is counterproductive, so I often ended up frustrated.  Happy, but frustrated.

Well, here I am, five weeks later, very proud of myself...

I turned off the hot water while I was shaving today!  I washed my hair, and then I turned the hot water off.  I used the cold water to rinse my razor and then when all was well in the hairy leg department, I turned the hot water back on.  It was still very hot when I turned it off.  Where was my critical thinking the past five weeks?!

STRIKE!

Lenin, Alma and I showed up at the bowling alley a little after 9, which I felt like was ahead of the game.  Liliana and Renato had been there for 20 minutes by the time we got there.  They're more punctual than a gringo!  

We debated the plan.  We debated which to purchase (per hour or per game).  We settled on eating first.  Then buying whatever suited us for the time being.

Several people ate.  I refrained since I had had a lot already today and would have more cake later.  Also because it was bowling alley food.  I think it's universal that that food is not top notch.  I did, however, have my trademark (16 peso) coca light.  

When other people started coming into the bowling alley, we got our act together and decided to each pay 70 pesos for an hour.  That way we could put 3 people on a lane and play as much as possible.  We had the four center lanes in the 20-some lane bowling alley.  Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the frame and game), our competition was only unofficial.  Of course, with the pressure of a competition, I would've failed miserably.  

Diana, Alma and I pose for a quick shot 

(I'm wearing the shirt Alma gave me as my bday gift!)

Instead, we just played for fun, keeping track covertly with darting eyes to other screens after a strike, spare, or gutter ball.

The first game, Renato was rockin' and rollin' on his lane, but Cristina on my lane, had complete beginner's luck and beat him by one point with 113.

Renato, Lenin and Mayrita 

Apparently, we (I) were just getting warmed up in the first game.  I must first explain that the first game was hardly fair.  For one, the ball I had, while fitting my unfortunately-shaped and -sized thumb well, was too heavy (story of my bowling life).  You may not believe me, but after the third frame, I had a blood blister on said thumb.  You can imagine how big it was (the blister, not the thumb).  Toward the end of the first game, I traded out for a lighter ball and the winds changed...

I scored strike after strike after spare.  I was extra proud of my newfound skill (luck)!  I pulled out a whopping (Are you ready for this?  Like, sitting down?) 154!  I beat Renato, my nearest competition by around 30 points!  At that point, he and I kept our eyes on each other (Though I'm not sure why; I knew my luck would only last one game if it lasted all of that!).

After those two games, most of our lanes got to start a third game before our hour was up.  We didn't get too far into it though.  Cristian had just gotten there, and the guys felt like they were just getting warmed up.  The girls were beginning to feel "bowler's arm," but we were having enough fun to tough it for another 70-peso hour.

Iván, me, his girlfriend (and Ana Luisa's daughter) Rocío

I should've known to stop while I was ahead.  I got greedy.  It's like gambling.  Once you win, you think you're invincible.  And when you're losing, you think the only way you can go is up.  No matter how wrong you may be!  

We played two miserable rounds and were almost relieved when the lanes closed.

Those who made it to the end: 

Front: Topete, me, Alma, Mayrita

Back: Iván, Liliana, Cristian, Lenin, Daniel, Renato

At this point, we graciously returned our gorgeous bowling shoes and put our rightful shoes back on.  Alma went to the bar to ask for our cake back.  It had started melting when we got there, so we stored it in the bar freezer.  We all made our way out to the front of the bowling alley, where "Happy Birthday" was sung to me in English.

"¡Mordida!  ¡Mordida!" was the battle cry.  I had to take the traditional bite of the cake.  Luckily by then I was well practiced!  I snuck a bite without anyone's noticing!  I laughed proudly at myself.  

That, apparently, was unacceptable.  Alma fussed at the crowd for not being ready to get me.

They started the chant again.   I prepared myself mentally and physically for bite number two.

This time, I was swift and smooth again!  Alma was on her game, bumping up the cake a little into my face (see previous picture), but everyone else was distracted.  She yelled at them again.

Third time's a charm.  They began shouting and I didn't put up much of a fight.  Either I'm getting weaker in my Mexican-ness, or I've really learned the lesson well that they won't let me be stubborn Laura, so better to do it earlier without a fight than embarrass myself after a really long fight only to STILL succumb to their demands.

I took a deep breath.

I faked them out three times.

And then I went for it.

The combination of Alma's pushing the cake up into my face from underneath (a little harder this time) and Lenin and Renato tag-team shoving my face down into the cake made for two nostrils full of ice cream cake!

I was a good sport and just laughed.  I took the opportunity to teach Lenin a new word: snot rocket.  It wasn't necessary, but I figured it was more or less in context!  No one seemed to be prepared with napkins, so I was ice cream faced and nosed for a good two minutes (which is an eternity considering the circumstances).  Mayrita finally came to my rescue.

As you can see, Alma was obviously satisfied with the end result, but you'll notice she was an ice-cream victim, too!  I was pushed so hard that some of the cake moved all the way onto her shirt!

She tried to whine about it, but all I had to say to her was, "¡Pobrecita!"

It was a great night and I wouldn't have traded this whole day for anything else.  I love my friends here and had such an amazing time with them celebrating for what seemed like weeks!

My special day....

So today was special for so many reasons.  The first, of course, being that I turned 25.

Again.  

For more than the second time.

Anyway, let's begin with the early morning well wishes from Mamá Alma.  Then I got an international phone call from Ashley wishing me Happy Birthday.  

In fifth grade, I walked in and they sang "Happy Birthday" in English and then stampeded me for the traditional hug.  My foot got squished, but they showed their love.  All day long, students were hugging me.

In my last class, Maribel called me to tell me to stop by the office.  There, they had a guayaba cake for me, and Ana Luisa had a pair of huaraches more or less authentic.  I loved them so much I was speechless.  In two languages.

I came home to find decorations and the card that Ashley had left at Mabel's when she was here (God love Maribel for working her magic).  I also had an ice cream cake from DQ in the freezer that Ashley had put Alma up to getting (who in turn put her mom up to it).  Mom called.  Andy Skyped.  Dad attempted Skype (and will get there someday).  Patrick was one of the first to facebook.  It was a good day.

In the middle of every lesson, my phone would beep acknowledging yet another text.  Renato, Liliana, Alma, Rocio, Topete, Iván.  Basically, go through the roll of my friends and they acknowledged me.  I told Alma that I usually bowl in Nashville for my birthday.  So she said we should keep up the tradition.  I sent out the texts.  We were all game.  

You're On in Four, Three, Two...

As I walked to school this morning, after my Happy Birthday hug and cheek-kiss from Alma's mom, I felt pity for Vasito and let him go with me.  What can I say?  I'm a softy!  As we were approaching my bus stop, a car honked at me.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Only this time, it was Mayrita.  She waved, stopped for a second and laughed that it was true that Vasito was with me!

Off she went.

I have learned form my mistakes, so when the bus finally came, I only boarded the first step, leaving my right hand out the door to push Vasito back to the street.  

Tough Love.

I spent the school day explaining to each group what they would be doing on Friday for our presentation and typing a note to their parents to help them with their "homework" tonight.

I left my cell phone number on the homework sheet because I knew there would be questions.  I was right.

The day flew by.  The funniest part was hearing the teachers complain about the custodian.  I think I heard correctly last week that she was not going to be there too much longer!

When the day was over, we walked out to the bus stop, but there was no bus, and there were no bus cleaners sitting on the curb.  Hmm.

A third grade student came running (and fell in the street and got bloody elbows) to tell us that the road was blocked and we'd have to walk to the next stop.  It was not easy.  There was a massive dirt mound we had to climb, and the heat has already started.  I'm not looking forward to July, let me tell you!

sun night

After burying my nose in a Spanish/English dictionary most of the afternoon, I was tired at night on Sunday.  Okay, maybe that was also due to the fact that I was out too late (though it was an early night) with my friends the night before after a week of catching up with Mom.

Early in the evening, Alma told me that we would be going out for dinner after mass (I didn't go to mass) with Lenin, Chapo, Karla and Cristian.  I was game at 7.  But when 9:30 rolled around and they were just pulling into the house, I was a little hesitant.  Alma said, "Get up!  You're going!"  So I did.  We went all around town dropping off cars and moving around, mostly with girls in Alma's car and boys in Lenin's Tecate truck.

We ate.  We had appetizers.  The boys had a pitcher of beer and the girls each had a glass of lemonade.

The bill came and they all pointed to Cristian, who laid down his credit card, only to be told they don't accept credit cards.

Seeing as how Mom had paid for everything while she was here, and had left me a few bucks, I fished around in my purse and came up with the 300 pesos to cover the bill and tip.  They all got onto me for paying, but I wasn't up for sitting around while they found cash.  Also, not that I owe them for being my friends (I'm not buying friends, eh?), but occasionally, it's nice to show someone appreciation.  

I think I did that.

I got home in time to be really tired again and to think of the nightmares I was going to have getting up at 6:30!

Getting back into it.

Sunday morning, after using the iPod method to drown out the birds (the roosters were at work when I was falling asleep, but I was tired enough that it didn’t matter!), I slept until about 11:00. At that point, it was warm enough that I wasn’t going to sleep peacefully anymore. I got up, got dressed, and went downstairs to join Mamá Alma who was doing a Bible study. I started looking up words for my Spanish homework. I got through about a page before I was just worn out from it. I asked her if she could drop me off at TelCel to check out my internet and to pay for the net month’s usage. We went, but as she had thought, it was closed because it was Sunday. The branch in Forum mall was open, so she offered to drive me there. It’s on the other side of town (which I now know is a five minute drive), so I didn’t want to inconvenience her. She said it was no problem. Once we got there, we saw that it would be a problem because my place in line was after 16 people! I told her there was no way I would inconvenience her that much. It would likely take over an hour of just waiting in line, so I decided I would return on Monday after school. I can just ride Canal Tres to Forum instead of getting off downtown. There should be a shorter line on a weekday. Then I can bus back home in time for lunch and Spanish class/yoga preparation.
We got back to the house and her son was here with Lía, their two year old daughter. We all watched tv and chatted while Lía ate some beans. Mamá Alma called an air conditioning place to see if she could get a nice unit (called a mini split, even in Spanish) for her bedroom and to transfer her window unit to my room. If not, she’s going to get a window unit for my room anyway. If for some reason that doesn’t pan out, I can move into Alma’s room. We’ll see what happens. Either way, it should be tomorrow. Which may not be a minute too soon!
Around 3, Alma said she had some phone calls to make for work, that I could take her car to Forum if I wanted to look into TelCel. I told her I could wait until Monday after school and promptly fell asleep on my bed for about an hour and a half. I’m still tired, but it’ll be a process to get back into the Mexican routine!
Now on the agenda is to continue working on my homework, and then get my thoughts together for classes tomorrow at school. I’ve got three days or less this week to get all 7 classes ready for an exhibition. We’ll see what kind of magic I can work!

Which party will it be?

I got Mom on her way back to the US and took advantage of the hotel as long as I could. I got my blogs up to date and have plans to go Monday to the mall and get my broad-band situation worked out. After getting a nice strong, steamy shower at the hotel, and taking advantage of their wi-fi in the lobby, I taxied it back to the house. I could’ve taken a bus, but that would’ve required sweating and dragging a suitcase four blocks. I passed on that.
I got home around 5 and no one was there. I decided to be productive, so I unpacked some things and then got out my Spanish class homework. I have a four page short story to understand well enough to be able to debate any issue for any character on Monday. The problem is, there is at least one word in every sentence I don’t know! I took comfort in knowing that my Mexican classmates also needed a dictionary for some of it. I started reading and defining until Alma got home from her event on Saturday. PISI is the name of the Saturday program at Centro de Idiomas and it’s for children. This was the 25 year anniversary, so they had a two day event with conferences and presentations.
When she got home, we caught up a little bit on the weeks events and she told me that Lenin had a wedding that night before the party that she had already told me about (I told you there were always multiple parties). I could tell she was not sure what to do with me because it was kind of an invitation only gig. She said Lenin would come pick her up at 10 and then they would go to the wedding for a bit. After they made their appearance, they would come get me and we’d go to the other party. She asked me if I’d heard from anyone else and what they were doing and I said no. It’s pretty much assumed at this point that I’ll go wherever Alma goes. She said she had invited Mayrita to go to our second party and she was game.
Alma’s plan was to take a short nap, then go get her hair straightened, and then come back and get ready for the wedding. I figured I had time for a great nap starting about 8 since I was accustomed to early bedtimes (not that early, but earlier than 3am) from Mom’s visit. Then I would be ready around 1 when I assumed they would make their way to pick me up.
Alma had not been gone upstairs to nap 2 minutes before she was back downstairs. “Laura. You’re not going to believe this,” she says laughing. Apparently she had accidentally dialed Lenin while she was in the den with me. So when we were talking, he heard everything. He told her to be careful what she says and who she calls. Ha! Anyway, he said that if I wanted to go to the wedding instead of waiting at home alone, he would call his cousin Cristian (who had gone out with us the first weekend I lived with Alma and who was also at Lenin’s birthday party) and see if he had a date. Alma found out about this wedding on Friday, so I’m guessing there wasn’t a lot of preparation on the guests’ part. Cristian said no he didn’t have a date and yes was planning on going to the wedding. Done.
So while Alma sleeps and gets her hair straightened, I read and eat some Samoas (Thanks, Mom!). Around 8, I decided to try out my nap theory and it worked. I slept until about 9:15, waking up groggy, but knowing in the long run it would be better to have slept some. I was ready, of course, at 9:50, and waited about 30 minutes while Alma finished getting ready and for Lenin to arrive.
When Lenin got there, he was so excited to see me and chatty. He hadn’t gotten to go to Wings on Wednesday because Alma was sick, so he didn’t get to meet Mom and we hadn’t seen each other in a week! He was cracking me up. I asked him if he had missed me and he said, “Yeah. I was asking every day where you were. First you go to Mazatlán; then you stay in a hotel with your Mom. Four days in a hotel in Culiacán when you have a house? Do you have a boyfriend now? Is the hotel manager your boyfriend or what? Where have you been?” It was hilarious. And he said that he could tell a difference in my face again. He said that when Ashley was here. That he could see that I was happy. He said, you got to see your mom for a week. I don’t know what I’d do without my mom for a week. Who would fix my meals, iron my clothes, etc? What a difference in culture, huh?
We made our way back to Lenin (and Mabel)’s side of town, picked up Cristian, and met up with another couple. From there, we drove to the site of the reception. Whether the wedding had been there or not, I’m not sure. I got the feeling this was a church wedding.
Chapo and Karla met up with us in the parking lot. Apparently Chapo, Lenin, Cristian, and the fourth guy (Omar I think) all went to high school together here in Culiacán. I think Chapo and Karla were part of the Koopa Troopa before Lenin was Alma’s boyfriend, but the fact that he knew some of them from before helped ease the transition.
When we walked into this place, we had to give our passes. The place was outside and had two really pretty open buildings, fountains, and nice lighting. There were tables with white tablecloths and white chairs. The banda was playing when we got there, but shortly after took a break and they played music from a stereo.
We got there late, of course, which was the plan, so there was no table with 8 seats together. We stood for awhile until we found a place with four seats and the girls sat while the guys stood. I talked for a long time with Gabi, Omar’s girlfriend. She started our conversation by asking if I’d ever been to that place before. I said no, but that I wasn’t from Culiacán. That started the typical conversation and we spent a good thirty minutes chatting. Turns out she was at Bavaria the night we went dancing for no other reason than that Liliana wanted to (That’s the German pub that plays just awful music and is so hot, so I’m always thankful we get there less than two hours before it closes!). That night at Bavaria, she and I had talked some, about the music, the dancing, the heat. Blame it on the limited conversation or the noise, but she didn’t place me as a foreigner. Even with my American dress complete with flip flops.
As she and I were wrapping up our Q&A session, the guys found an empty table. It was beginning to be time for people to leave. Many of them had probably been at the wedding since 7. We (or at least I) didn’t notice that they had called all the single ladies. They all had their veils on (the kind I had made at Liliana’s house) and danced around in a circle around the bride until she threw something. I don’t think it was a bouquet, but I didn’t see, so who knows. Well, when it was time for the single men, all the guys got up from our table and were pumped about it. I feel like in the US, it’s like pulling teeth to get either gender out there. The guys donned aprons and went through the same spiel of dancing in a circle, but then they got some tree branches (with mostly leaves) and made a gamut. The groom had to run through. Then there was a point when they lifted him up and tossed him around more or less cheerleader style. They threatened to throw him into the fountain, but he put up a big enough fight.
There were some specific dances and some specific pictures, and then it was time for everyone to dance. Nightmare. Everyone from my table got up. Ugh. Luckily, Cristian knew me well enough to know that I hate Mexican music and dancing, so he looked at me like, “Yes or no?” Well, I hated to be the only party-pooper out of basically the entire guest-list, so I said okay. Out we went to the dance floor, and straight out of a horror movie, it was banda music. It’s the awful Mexican meets German tuba music. It’s really awful. Never in my life will I choose to listen to it. However, I am 100% certain that after this year here, if I hear it somewhere else, I will be very reminiscent. (Mom got to experience a lot of the música banda, so ask her how awful it is.)
The first two or three songs were mostly dance by yourself songs, so we all did in a big circle. There were your typical solos in the middle (whether you wanted to or not). Then it was the serious banda that requires a partner. I will do my impression for you if you ask, of what I think dancing banda looks like. It is the goofiest looking dance I have ever seen. White-man-lip-bite included. I told Cristian he was in for it because I had never danced it and had no clue where to start. Well, either he was really good (which he is a good dancer), or banda is much easier than I thought. It’s a lot of jumping around, so it was quite the workout. We all danced probably 10 songs of banda before we got hot, sweaty, and worn out. I admit it was fun. I was super thankful that the party was outside because I was almost cool earlier when we were sitting and chatting. When we started dancing, I got hot and needed a ponytail, but I wasn’t sweating head to toe like I do when we’re inside somewhere!
We all pretty much unanimously decided to sit down for a breather, but when we got to the table, we found out that they had run out of Tecate Light. Well, that’s pretty much the sign that the party’s over! We went over to the fountains and had a 20 minute photo session, and then we made our way out of the party.
I’m always with whomever I’m with. Meaning, I’m going wherever they go. I assumed we were going to Alma’s party, but I was along for the ride wherever.
Our first stop was the gas station because we were sittin’ on empty! We got there, and sat some more. In Mexico, they still pump it for you. Lenin and Cristian got out to go buy stuff in the Oxxo while Alma and I waited for the gas man to come pump. Alma actually asked if he had gas attendants because she didn’t see the need for them. I told her that in some very small towns, there might still be one gas station that does that, but that it’s been about 15-20 years since it was a given in the US. After we had been waiting about 15 minutes, we realized we still weren’t being waited on, and the boys were not going into the Oxxo. They were standing talking to someone from the gas station. Apparently they were out of gas. I know Mom’s going to get a kick out of this because she thought it was so funny that the Oxxo was out of phone time. We could see the gas trucks at the gas station that was connected to the one where we were, so apparently we had to wait our turn. I, of course, being American in nature was thinking, “Why don’t we just get outta here and go to another station?!” Instead of phrasing it that way, I said to Alma, “What’s taking so long?” She said what I already knew: the gas truck was filling up the pumps because they were out of gas. Okay.
After another 5 minutes passed and more cars had come and gone, the guys came back to the car and we went to another gas station.
Chapo and Karla had been in charge of going to get beer and meeting back up with us at the party, wherever that may be! They were talking about how annoyed Chapo was that it took us so long to get to the wedding (Lenin had to cross town to pick us up and then back to where the party was, not to mention he always runs on Andy time.), so I think finally they were trying to hurry up. We got our gas, ice and cigarettes (BLAH) and headed to the post-boda (after wedding party). This is very popular here. It got popular about the same time as the dressing up at the reception (with the favors we made at Lili’s). We got to the party and Chapo was nowhere to be found. He and Karla had gone to get dinner. Ha! So we made ourselves comfortable outside the bride of groom’s family’s house with our ice and no beer. The banda was apparently contracted until 6am! It played on and on. The girls sat and chatted while the boys stood, smoked and drank. Lenin introduced me to a friend of his from high school, saying that I was here on an exchange from the US. This was apparently interesting enough to him. After shaking my hand, he held on for quite awhile. Then he went away. He came back later, when the banda was in its prime and grabbed my hand and said, “We’re going to dance. You need to learn to dance.” I told him I knew how to dance, thank you. He said, “Yeah, but not banda.” And of course I set him straight. Karla was there by this point and only encouraged it, taking my purse off my shoulder. Thanks so much Karla. Alma and Gabi just smiled at me. I mean, where’s my girl support here?!
So there we were, in the middle of the street (that had been blocked off by some cars) dancing banda, my second time that night. He had a few more steps than Cristian (and few more whiskeys), but he stepped on my feet more than I would’ve liked. He was good at the dance, but he was moving too fast and adding things, so my feet weren’t following where he wanted them to. Thank goodness the song ended and the band took a break. I returned to my seat and to laughter from my girls. Thanks for nothing.
Before I knew it, the music was playing again, and he was dragging me to dance again. This time I was done, so thankfully there was a car that was going to run over us (leaving the party) if we didn’t move. He got the point (more or less) after that. At one point, he was coming back toward us, and I said, “Alma, is he coming?” And she said, “Well, he looks like he wants to dance with you, but he’s keeping his distance.”
Mayrita, Jair and Nadia showed up with a hot dog for Alma at that point, and they told us about their night at Bavaria.
A little after three, we called it a night and headed home. I was glad to crawl into my bed!

A Night to Remember

Considering we were going to be up before 5am, we decided to get in bed before 11.  Our efforts, though, were a bit pointless.  As soon as our heads hit the pillow, the little girl in the room next to us decided to be upset about something and put up a fight.  She cried.  And cried.  And cried.  And this room's acoustics were worse than in Mazatlán and we didn't have the benefit of a loud air conditioner.  Oh, well

She finally stopped I guess because we both fell asleep.

Around 1:30, though, we were both awake due to the heat and bathroom.  Mom got up to go to the bathroom and realized the lights weren't turning on.  And that the alarm clock was no longer showing that time.  And that the room was hot because the air conditioner wasn't working.  I called the front desk where the music from the lobby bar was blaring and told them our problem.  They assured me that all rooms were without power and they were doing what they could.

We somehow got back to sleep making sure my cell phone alarm was set.

Mom later told me that a few hours later, the sink was dripping loudly.  I must've had enough by that point because I didn't even notice!

It was not fun getting up before 5, but I'm glad I went to the airport with Mom.  We got her through the line (her bag was 1.85 kilos over the international weight limit, but the agent had pity on us I guess) and I walked her upstairs to the security check point for the gate.

Mamá Alma and her sister took me back to the hotel where I napped, showered, and caught up on my blog.  I am now officially caught up.  I'm not sure how long I'll stay caught up because I'm not sure when I'll get to the TelCel store to check up on my dial up problems.

But for now, know that I have a party (or two, there are always two) tonight, I will be obligated to do something on the actual day of my birth, and I have a HUGE school presentation for Maribel on Friday after a week where it's likely I won't have two days of classes.  YIKES!

At some point, I will try to fill you in on the minute by minute between now and then.

Thanks for reading!

AND THANK YOU MOM!!!!!! I had so much fun with you and am glad you got to see all these wonderful people!

Friday run-around

I had Spanish class again on Friday after my nap, so I left Mom to watch U of L.  I came back to a smile on her face, so I knew they had won.  I had so much stuff to send back with Mom (long sleeved things, souvenirs from Mazatlán, other things I'd bought here that I wouldn't need until I got back) that I had offered to pack her bag.  She made it down here without paying the extra bag or overweight fee.  I had big plans to keep that up!

I stuffed and wrapped and carefully placed my mirror, the frames, and my "winter" stuff in her checked bag.  I left enough room for her toiletries and last minute morning things to go in there.

We took a walk to buy a few more things for her to take back including the Japonese peanuts that are so different but so yummy.

When we got back from our 10-15 block jaunt, we decided to eat something light from the hotel.  We each got a sandwich and a limonada mineral for Mom and a naranjada mineral for me.  It hit the spot.  Sandwiches are not Mexico's forte, but they did their jobs!

Chef Mamá Alma

Since Alma had told me she had planned on leaving work at 1:30, I assumed she would get to the house around 2. We left the hotel around 1:30 to go wait for the bus. We ended up walking into an empty house (except for Vasito of course) at the stroke of 2. We made ourselves at home, and I dropped off a few things from the hotel so I would have enough room for everything I needed to bring back from the hotel. A few minutes later, Mamá Alma walked in with her grandchildren Dael and Lía. She got them settled on the couch with a movie (Dael had been sick all day) and came into the kitchen to start preparing things while we sat and chatted. She was such a gracious host (duh). The chiles rellenos were already fixed and waiting in a pot, so she started cutting up fish to fry. She had lettuce, cucumbers and avocados for a salad and red rice. It was too much, but again, we had no trouble eating it all. She's just an amazing cook. She had made sure to have coca light for me. Alma got there and had snuck away from work and would have to get back within the hour. We sat down and ate and really enjoyed each other's company. Mom could see why I was so happy there. Mamá Alma truly treats me like her own daughter. Alma said she would take us back to the hotel when she left for work, but Mamá Alma hadn't heard that, so when we were all finished eating, but Mom and I were so stuffed we couldn't stop sighing, she asked if Mom wanted to go up to her bedroom and take a nap. The Mexican culture is just so open, welcoming and hospitable. Whatever they have is yours.

The next thing she offered was absolutely ridiculous, but she wouldn't take no for an answer. She asked when Mom was leaving and we told her at 7am Saturday, and she said "I'll pick you up for the airport." Are you CRAZY?! She was volunteering to be at our hotel at 5:30 am. I told her absolutely not, that we would call a taxi and she said she'd be up already anyway. I asked Alma and she said, "Yeah, she can do it. She's always up early."

Wow.

We left there with Alma, stuffed and happy.