A Tale of Two Masses (or, if you like, The Country Mass and the City Mass)

This weekend was full of masses, whether I wanted it to be or not.

Friday night, Marisela (so sorry for spelling it wrong all along!) had her graduation mass at 6:00 at La Lomita, the huge Catholic church on top of a hill that overlooks the whole city.

We got there early, of course, and Marisela and Papá were late...

Friday was an unfortunate day for me for mass.  I had been to yoga the night before and it was demanding.  It was just what I needed, to be certain, but I was sore on Friday.  Add to that the fact that I ran on Friday.  I was probably too sore to run, so it was terrible form (read:I banged my body into the pavement).  I got to mass, and the church was a concrete floor.  That already made my bones hurt more.  Then, I was wearing flats with no support.  My back and legs and feet were aching the whole time we were standing, sitting and standing again (but mostly standing).

The service was about an hour long.  In the middle, Mabel got up and went to confess.  The whole thing was pretty interesting to me.  So different.  I went to mass in Spain, and I would say they're very similar.  Minus the singing.  I don't remember the first song in Spain.  Here there was a very loud organ and mic'd singer.  Also, the father (what's the other word I use here....drawing a blank except all but Pope) blessed the graduates with holy water.

I found the whole thing funny since the school is a public dental school.  Yet they had this service.

Interesting.

Today's mass was for a First Communion.  It was what I would call the country church.  It wasn't out in the country by any means, but it had a country church feel.  Smaller and more intimate.  

This service was about an hour and a half, and I looked like I had been swimming after the father blessed us all by throwing (I kid you not.  Even Maribel and her husband were surprised at how rough he was.) the holy water on us!

So there's the comparison of the two masses.  I'll get back to both of them in future entries.

I'd like to send a quick shout out to Mrs. Wallace.  I just talked to Mer and she said you read my blog.  So: THANKS!

¿Me explico?

That's right.  Language lesson time.

"¿Me explico?" means "Do I explain myself?" or "Am I explaining myself?"

When Alma (the sister) was in town visiting (both times) I noticed things about her speaking patterns.  We all have our sayings or favorite words.  Hers at the time was "me explico."  

I just finished lunch downstairs (yes, it's 4:15 here) with Mabel and Cosette's godmother.  Cosette is with her dad for the night.  Mabel went to pick up her friend, they went to get lunch, and when they came back, I ate with them.  I don't remember her name, but the friend said over and over again, "¿Me explico?"  It reminded me of Alma.  

At any rate, it just made me think.  I often notice people's speech patterns and which words they love to use.  The better, non literal, yet more applicable translation would be, "Do you know what I'm saying?" or "Do you know what I mean?"  I know plenty of people (self included) that use that phrase a bit more often than is necessary.

UNBELIEVABLE!

I am so tired and ready for a great night's rest after an incredibly tough but amazing yoga class. However, I have to write about this tonight, of I won't be excited enough tomorrow and it'll lose some umph.

So...

I left yoga tonight feeling INCREDIBLE. It was an alternative class. Meaning, Cristina decided to kill us before the weekend. No, just kidding. It means instead of sticking to the traditional 26 Bikram poses, she threw in some salutations to the sun (Mom, you know I was loving that for my arms!) and other things as transitions. She eliminated some of the postures and modified others. It's nice mentally, hard physically, and makes for a good feeling of accomplishment and complete exhaustion after. As a result of being on my computer quite a bit, I'm developing a stiff neck and apparently stiff wrists. I didn't realize the wrist part until tonight. Doing those salutations made a huge difference.

I digress.

The point is that I was leaving. Neither Cecy nor a friend of hers who has once taken me home and offered to any other time in the future (Umberto?) was there tonight, so I resigned to a taxi again. I walked a few blocks to pass the time moving while waiting for a taxi to come. I finally saw one and got in explaining my destination. The guy tells me 60 pesos, to which I respond, no way dude (not exactly, mind you); it's usually 50. With the economy and rise of the dollar (apparently they're 14 pesos to buy now and just over 13 to sell), I should've just given him the 60. But I stuck my ground like a native. He said okay and asked if I could do him a favor. He needed gas and this was his first call of the night. Could we go to a gas station and I pay up front. I said okay. Then I started feeling nervous. In light of the events that have happened in East Nashville this week, as well as being nighttime in Mexico (I've read the same taxi stories you all have from the 80s), I just envisioned myself on the news...

We pulled into the gas station and he got out. This never happens here because they have gas attendants. (That was one of the things Mabel notices in Tucson: "Who pumps the gas? I never saw anyone near the pumps!") Add more nervous vibes!

I paid the guy, got my 50 peso change for my 100 peso bill and off we went.

We pull out going the opposite direction we need to go. We make another turn. I start getting more nervous. I ask why we had to turn. He said that the other street was a one way. (Phew) I was totally overreacting by the way. There was nothing to worry about and I haven't felt in jeopardy since I've been here.

Then he says the way we're going will be faster because of less traffic. ALL taxi drivers have taken me the other way. I got really nervous.

Well then he starts asking me where I'd been, exercising? I answer yes, from a yoga place.

He asks about yoga. How long I've been doing it. How hard it is since you have to be flexible. Misconception, so I go into explaining that it's the yoga that makes you flexible. Not that only flexible people can do yoga. Then we talk about something else. At this point (after negotiating fare, talking about where I live [destination of the night, not US], discussing yoga and such, only after all this), he asks me where I'm from.

HOORAY!

So I tell him. I explain the whole thing. Teaching exchange. Teach English for a year. Been here since August, etc.

He offers (I didn't ask) that he my Spanish was really good. So good, in fact, that didn't know until he asked that I was from "el otro lado (the other side)" which is what they call the US here. I was PUMPED. I mean, I know that I look Mexican. No one thinks I'm foreign by looking. But then to sound Mexican. (Or even almost Mexican) I was very proud of myself. Then, of course, I stuttered, misconjugated, and hesitated. But that's okay. I impressed on the front end!

Nice 'stache dude

So this morning, on the ride to school, there was an assistant to the bus driver.  At first, I noticed that the same voice seemed to be signaling the bus driver to stop (if you need to get off you say baja or bajar).  I thought that was strange.  People here are typically helpful (I've mentioned how bus seats are often given up for the elderly or women), but not usually more than once.  Since this guy kept on, I figured something was up.  Later in the (very bumpy) ride, he ended up moving closer to the front and chatting with the driver (It never fails; I cannot understand a WORD from bus drivers or their friends.  Maybe that's my goal before I leave...).  Later he ended up getting off the bus to get water for the bus.  Apparently we were having issues.  But that is not the point of this entry.  The guy had a major 'stache.  I mean, serious.  I enjoy some facial hair.  My preference, however, is a goatee or a full beard.  It is rare (slash never) that I like a mustache.

This mustache had some serious thought and grooming.  It was thick.  Think in density, not in surface area.  It looked like the guy had shaved the top half of it.  So it was this dense, yet thin line.  Hard to describe, I am now realizing.  Some of my girls in Nashville are gagging right now.  I know how you are about facial hair.  This one was one for the books!

Sandra's project

Today during recreo, Sandra asked me if I wanted to do a project.  Loaded question, I'd say.

I, of course, smiled and said, "Yes, tell me about it."

Apparently there's some English project for middle schools that we can modify for 6th grade (it will be fun to do something interactive with them).  The students divide into teams of 5 or 6 and read and English story.  Then they discuss it in Spanish and post their thoughts (in Spanish) to some website.  I think it will be a collaboration between Sandra and me (English class meets computers).  It doesn't start until March, so I have time to get some things accomplished.  But not a lot!

I'll keep you updated.

Reading over your shoulder...

So this entry piggybacks on the personal space issue.  I'm just too much of  bubble girl (I have a pretty large invisible bubble around me that should not be invaded unless you are family, close friend, or invited) for this country.  I say that in jest.  I am getting used to it, like I got used to driving to a place that is closed only to circle around for awhile longer...

However, the space invasion was coupled with terrible parenting meets non-listening (and annoying) children.  

I got to the food court and pulled up the internet.  Since it was not yet 1:00, the place was almost vacant.  Lunch is most busy around 2pm.  It's now 2:20, and the sushi line is crazy, so it'll likely be three before I'm placing my order (not from the line, but because I don't want to stand until I would get a chance to order)...

There is a man next to me eating something and reading a book.  Other than that, we pretty much have the place to ourselves.  After he leaves, it starts getting busier.  A precious little girl and her cute older brother come sit on the bench beside me and the mom figure sits across from them in the chairs.  The girl cozies up next to me, leg to leg, shoulder to arm.  She's reading my screen.  Well, given the reading level I've seen of the first graders here, I'm doubting she was reading.  Add to that, the blog is in English and I'm almost certain she was just checking it out.

Anyway, mom noticed and didn't say anything.  

I gave an uncomfortable smile.

Then mom tells her to scoot over.  

Daughter gives look of death.

Mom gazes off into oblivion.

Later, mom tries again.

Daughter seems to get closer.

Brother hits sister.

Mom hits brother.

Mom tells both kids to shut up.

Whew.  I was happy when the food came and she had to get closer to the table and they all had something occupying their mouths besides ugly words.

"Seat's Taken"

Sometimes, I just wish I could say that.

So, bus rides are a lot like airplane rides.  The passengers, too.

I am a bus passenger almost identical to the plane passenger I am (I just realized how terrible this sentence is, but I don't know why or how to correct it!).  Anyway, never will I strike up my own conversation with the person sitting next to me.  Some days, I don't mind speaking to them.  Most days, I prefer headphones or a book.

Depending on the day, I can often get a seat by myself for most of the ride home.  Yesterday the bus filled up quickly.  I had my iPod going.  I was enjoying my jams.  Suddenly the person who was sitting next to me was gone and an older (ish) woman sat down next to me.  I continued my gazing out the window.  I thought I saw her mouth moving in intense conversation in the reflection in the mirror, but wasn't certain.  I tucked my hair well behind my ear to make sure she could see the headphones in them...  If she had been talking to me, I wanted her to know that I wasn't being rude, but that I was just enjoying my music.

At the time she got on the bus, it wasn't full, so she had her choice of seats.  However, since she boarded downtown, it would fill up quickly.

I realize a few seconds later that she is in fact talking to me.  I make a big enough gesture out of my earphones so she knows I'm not rude.  She doesn't really need me for the conversation.  She's mostly muttering to herself.  I nod.  Smile.  Press rewind for the THIRD time for No Air (I just recently added it to my iTunes and I will probably always love that song...).  After a bit longer, she asks, "You're pretty serious aren't you?  You don't talk much."  So I apologize and say that I was just listening to my music.  She asks where I get off the bus and then continues incoherently (I wonder if the Mexicans could understand her- language barrier or incoherent rambling lady?).  Finally she says, "You're not from here are you?"  Again comes the incoherency (incoherence?) of traveling to the US and liking it/not liking it, etc.

Thankfully, she got off the bus within ten minutes of getting on.  I was worn out.

And thankful to get back to Chris Brown.

Today, I got on the completely empty bus by school to come to the mall since my internet has not been acting right in the past 36 hours.  Well, I was grateful for our early dismissal (12-paychecks, remember) because that meant no red-shirts at the prepa (high school) down the street.  The bus was literally empty.  That is, until our PE teacher got on.  

You know, I'm all about friendly and nice, etc.  But when there is a bus FULL or empty seats (is that an oxymoron?), why would you sit right next to someone?  This is the one teacher at school who does the kiss greeting.  No matter where he is or what he (or his students) is doing, he makes his way to me to greet me.  He's also the one that Mabel thinks likes me.  Ugh.  No offense, but he's definitely old enough to be my father and I don't dig it.

I was just thinking yesterday as I walked from my stop to my house how a 40 minute bus ride seems so quick in hindsight.  I get to my house and I can't believe school's been out for 45 minutes.  

Today, however, those 15 minutes seemed an eternity.  Longer than the whole bus ride usually seems.  Of course, when he got to his stop, he had to kiss me goodbye.

Bleh.

payday 15th

So Mexicans get paid on the 1st and 15th, remember?  I even remembered at the beginning of this week in time to plan for my classes.... What about that?  I was kind of nervous that planning for it would make it not happen.  But I asked yesterday if we would dismiss today (14th) or tomorrow (15th) for paychecks.  God love Sandra.  She told me that today was the day and we would dismiss at 12.  AND IT HAPPENED!

School

School this week has been good, but not great.  I'm really annoyed with my first group of first graders.  I'm letting them get to me and then I'm giving up (read: I'm using volume as a management technique instead of all the tricks I have up my sleeve).  My throat hurts, and maybe that's why I haven't been sleeping well.

Anyway, I'm disappointed that I haven't been GREAT and that the kids haven't been wild about me.  They're not unhappy, I don't think, but you know I want to be their favorite part of their day...

Anyway, I'm getting a lot accomplished with the older ones, and I have 4 tests scheduled for Friday.  I need to make progress, and I am.  I just hope i get my own teaching persona back and soon.

Your message cannot be sent.

When I arrived in Culiacán last week, I didn't have my Mexican cell phone with me.  I had left it at the house knowing I wouldn't need it.

When I got home, I wanted to send messages to several people.  Alma and I had been chatting on facebook while I was delayed in the DF airport and she told me that she had gotten a boyfriend for Christmas.  I wanted more details about that and to tell her I had arrived, etc.  Her message wouldn't send.  I had another message typed out to Carmen (Yuri's aunt) to tell her I was back and see if she wanted to go to the Baptist church at some point.  Yuri seems to think I'll like it (mostly due to the no-instruments), and I wouldn't mind trying it out since I'm not crazy about the one I go to now.  Her message failed to send, too.

When I arrived at school last week to a locked gate, I tried to call the office, but I couldn't place a call.

There have been times I've tried to send a text and it wouldn't go and I just had to wait a bit.  But I've still been able to place calls.  While I thought I had left some credit on my phone when I left, it may have expired.  I think it was Thursday of last week, I went by the Oxxo to get a charge.  I got my coca light (the first since I had been back) and walked up to the counter asking for a "recarga de TelCel."  What happened next, I was not prepared for...

They didn't have any credit to give me!  You walk in.  You pay your however many pesos you decide.  You tell them your number.  They enter it into their computer.  You leave a happy (and charged) customer.

What did they mean they didn't have any?!

Then she tells me I can get a chrage of Movistar if I want that.  Well, lady, considering I asked for TelCel and have a TelCel phone, that may not be the best plan.

I left speechless, enjoying my coca light.

I think, possibly, that each Oxxo (and there are hundreds in Culiacán) buys its own share of airtime and sells it until they're out and then they buy more.  I just happened to hit on the "We're out" day!  The good news is that we stopped at an Oxxo on the way to (closed) cascabeles and they, in fact, still had air time.