Probaditas de Morelia

I received a great email summary of my first three months here...

As I have been keeping up on your blog, I have been remiss in writing to you. It seems that you have had quite the adventure already. I have been looking at the typical list of things to do on your year off in Mexico:

1. Get woken up by rooster - CHECK
2. Take Salsa Lessons - CHECK
3. Visit Itaxpa - CHECK
4. Make Salsa - CHECK
5. Conquer intricacies of Mexican Waste Management -CHECK
6. Dream in Spanish - CHECK
7. Visit open air food market - CHECK
8. Gueritos con sombreritos en Tzin-tzun-tzan - CHECK
9. Drink large bowl of booze with new Friends - CHECK
10. Insanely throw things at ants - CHECK
11. Visit Mexican Zoo - CHECK
12. Jazztival - CHECK
13. Make bones in Morelia (Kill Scorpion) - CHECK
14. Attend Mexican Wedding - CHECK

Thanks Scott. ;-)

Thousands of tourists come to Morelia every year for Semana Santa, the week leading up to Easter. This is the big summer vacation and the city was packed. It was funny not be the most lost person in the city. They really make a week out of this holiday with parades, silent candlelight processions, and four hour masses throughout the week.

I woke up one morning to find a religious parade reenacting the passion, complete with drums and horns, passing by my window. I snapped a few photos. Definitely something I never witnessed in San Francisco.

Ok, I'm back. Parental visit was great. I'll post some pictures from their visit as soon as my Mom sends them to me. She has a nice camera and takes much better photos than I do.

In the meantime, here are some pictures of my favorite Spanish instructors. For all of you out there who have ever taken Spanish with a teacher from Spain, don't believe the hype, those Spaniards talk crazy. Mexican instructors, on the other hand, are mellow and clear. I found the Mexican accent significantly easier to understand while you are learning.



The rules and the cool - that's all you need.

I don't want to call them threats, but I have received several strongly worded messages about the decreased frequency of new posts.

Short Answer - "Damn, cut me some slack! I think I'm doing a pretty good job of sharing my life with you but I've got to get out and live it if I am to have anything new to write about."

Long Answer-
There are several factors that affect my ability to post daily:

1. Access to a Computer - It's a very long story why, but I still don't have a computer here. Previously, I wrote at the computer lab everyday after school but since I finished my schooling I'm limited to Internet cafes and Marisol's house.
2. Time to Write - It takes longer than you might think, at least for me, and I've got things to do...like find a job and, you know, drink coffee.
3. Suitable Material - You would never know given some of the drivel on here but there is a very demanding editorial review board employed in the production of my blog*. And when I first got here everything was exciting and different but I've sunk into a rhythm of sorts and no longer have all this newness to write about. Don't get me wrong, I still have tons to share but it's more a steady stream of life rather than a torrent of foreignness.
4. Visitors - My parents arrive on Wednesday so I will be out and about this week rather than holed away in an Internet cafe desperately trying to maintain my dear friends whom I so carelessly abandoned.

* Sidenote: I still hate the word "blog." It sounds like a mushy form of justice dished out by the old Batman and Robin. "Splat! Blog!! Blam!"

They say a picture is worth a thousand words...

I love these posters for the Mexican Red Cross. I don't think our Red Cross has quite the same sense of humor.

Friday was my last day of Spanish classes. (Tear)

I'm not fluent yet but I've learned all the grammar there is to learn. At this point reading and talking are the best ways to build vocabulary and increase the fluidity with which I jump between grammar structures. I'm also working my way through an excellent and very comprehensive Spanish review book that I highly recommend to anyone looking to brush up on all aspects of the language.

Those in the know told me I would need three months to hold my own in a conversation and six to be fluent. I've got two and a half months under my belt and I understand almost everything and can hold my own in a conversation. I expect to be waxing poetic all over the place in three more months. Reading novels is still sufficiently frustrating to elicit a healthy supply of profane muttering but every day it gets a little easier.

A few feelings:

Nostalgia - I'm always sad when things I've enjoyed come to an end - finishing jobs, college, a meal at Delfina, and language classes come to mind.

Accomplishment - Wow, I took 20 hours of group lessons and 70 hours of private lessons and learned all the Spanish grammar there is to learn. That's pretty cool.

Trepidation - Uhhh, I'm still not fluent. WTF?

Excitement - I had my first interview for a job at an English school yesterday. With the nostalgia for the familiar comes the thrill of the new. I'm considering a number of possibilities for work and I'm very excited to discover what life has in store for me.

First Mexican wedding. Fun but not really that different from a typical wedding in the U.S. I was expecting mariachis, big hats, lots of mustaches, and a part of the ceremony where we all fire our pistols into the air. "Arriba, arriba...andale!"

But alas, no dangerous gun play this time. Instead we enjoyed a healthy bit of dancing, a pasta dinner, cute little kids in suits and dresses, a happy bride and groom, and a funny old guy from Canada who wore the ever fashionable short-sleeve dress shirt and danced in a fantastically stiff manner. Marisol baked the wedding cake. It was covered in white roses and looked incredible.

This morning, after I took my shower, I was in my kitchen wearing flip-flops, rummaging around in the pile of plastic grocery bags under my sink. I was looking for a small bag to use for some old fruit when a large, grey, bug-monster darted from behind the pile into the middle of the kitchen.

"Ahhhhhhhh! Holy shit! A scorpion."

He crouched up against the wall, facing me. I could feel my heart beating wildly in my throat.

"Dammit. Shit! Is it the big ones or the little ones that kill you? In Cabo they said the little ones...right? But how little is little? Is this guy little? He looks pretty big to me...but not Clash of the Titans big. And are the big ones safe like kittens or only slightly less dangerous than deadly? Shit. Shit! Just remember he's more scared of you than you are of..."

He moved towards me.

"Wait, wait, wait. I thought he was scared of me!?"

He is between me and the one door out of the kitchen. I'm trapped. I know it's me or him so I grab the only thing handy, my trusty frying pan, and assume the gladiator stance.

"Bring it bug-monster."

Hearing my taunt he starts to climb the wall. (Seriously)
I guess stinging my foot isn't enough. This bastard wants to sting my face. All I can think of now is that damn Australian guy who wrestles with crocodiles and plays with spiders and scorpions. What an idiot.

I know the frying pan is the answer, but how exactly?

• The squash with the bottom of the pan? No, no. Not enough force plus visibility issues. You won't know if he's dead under that big round bottom or just preparing his counter attack.
• The smack with the side? Better visibility but the rounded shape requires deft placement to ensure a kill. A glancing blow will only cause him to dart off, frantically lashing out at his ineffective adversary.
  
• Or the chop with the rim. Yesss. The deadly rim chop. I like it. Swift and sharp without requiring too much skill.

Still in my gladiator crouch, I inch toward him. He's bold but so far appears unaware of the advancing threat. When I'm with in striking distance I prepare myself, give it one more look, and swing like hell.

Wham! The claw-half of his body goes flying.
I leap back in terror. His top half is running recklessly around the kitchen floor. I cower in the corner hoping to avoid his insanity. The severed, deadly(?) stinger lies on the floor next to the scene of our confrontation.

He's still moving but with less vigor. Finally he stops thrashing about and I feel brave enough to leap over him to safety. But am I really safe? I feel horrible. I'm sweating, my skin is crawling, my heart is beating at twice it's normal pace, and I'm convinced that every shadow is moving towards me. I can't believe I ever said anything bad about my nice, cuddly little ant intruders. I go upstairs for shoes and when I return he is still in the same place so I sweep my fallen foe and his stinger into the dustpan.

Wait a minute, wait a minute...did he just move? No, no, it can't be. He was severed in half ten minutes ago, there's no way.

I swiftly take him outside and shake the dustpan into the gutter. The stinger falls, the body doesn't. What the!? I shake it vigorously now and this time the body falls. As soon as it hits the ground he's off running in circles again. Still not dead. This guy is one hell of a fighter. Had I gone with my first thought, the flip-flop stomp, it would be me writhing around in the gutter and him retreating inside for a cup of coffee.

Morelia has an International Jazz Festival. Who knew?

The festival is called "Jazztival" so I was expecting the worst - lots of Soprano Sax and Flute and a slew of horrible names. I can excuse a lot of cheesiness but Jazz has a lot to answer for. What kind of disturbed childhood causes you to create the "word" Saxual?

Yes, I've seen Dan Moretti live...
...in Rhode Island...(is that an excuse?)...
and no, I don't want to talk about it.

However, in this case, I was very pleasantly surprised. For only $6 we were treated to three hours of quality jazz in the outdoor courtyard of the 400 year old cultural center. In fact, the local hero, Juan Alzate, plays a pretty mean Tenor. On Saturday night we even saw the fireworks from the cathedral overhead during the concert. Cool.

And no cheesy names or flutes.

Turns out Morelia has a great zoo. I took a trip there with Amandine while our significant others were hard at work. I can't remember the last time I went to a zoo but it had definitely been long enough for me to forget how much fun it is.