Big news! There is a microbrewery. Yes. In Ajijic. It's new. I don't know if it's any good. I hope they have something dark, and actually dark, not these so-called "dark" lies like Negra Modelo.
We tried to go today, but they're closed Sundays. Soon.
This is big. Microbreweries are not exactly big in Mexico. In the stores, mostly all you can buy is Mexican beer. Coronas, Modelos, Estrella... I'm holding out hope for a nice, full oatmeal stout. I can slip one in between nursing sessions, right?
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Why I'm Still Unemployed
Yesterday Hernan and I had a joint job interview. A gated community nearby needs someone to sit in their sales office all day every day in case someone wanders in wanting to buy a house. The woman we spoke with came clean from the start that it’s terribly boring. But the kicker is that I would only get paid commission. There is no base wage. … And, in the last year they only sold one house.
So, if I want a job, and to maybe pay someone to watch my baby for me, I could come and sit alone in a small office all day waiting for nothing to happen and very likely make no money doing it.
Badical.
So, if I want a job, and to maybe pay someone to watch my baby for me, I could come and sit alone in a small office all day waiting for nothing to happen and very likely make no money doing it.
Badical.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
More About Having Babies in MX
My new niece, Karen Yaretzy, was born yesterday afternoon. She and my sister-in-law are both healthy and recovering at a hospital in Guadalajara. Karen Yaretzi is downright adorable. She has curly, dark hair, like her parents, and big cheeks. Her stats: 3.4 Kilos (~7 and a half pounds), 52 cm (~20.5 inches).
So much for the “huge” baby the doctors had been saying would require a cesarean. That’s just about as average as you can get for weight and length.
My sister-in-law did have her baby by cesarean. It seemed likely from the outset, since they’d been telling her from the beginning she would probably “need” one, and since they’re just so common down here. I didn’t get any details with which I could decide whether or not I agree the c-section was necessary, not that it matters to anyone else that I agree. I know my sister-in-law was hoping to have the baby naturally. Maybe it’s not a bad thing – after all they both seem to be doing relatively well. Still, it leaves me with an unpleasant feeling that this was just another routine surgery for her doctor, that her wishes weren’t respected. It’s hard to say. I’ve become very suspicious.
Visiting them in the hospital was really nice, it was coo-a-rific, but I’m doubly certain now I don’t want to be having my baby there. Having to look at a newborn through a glass window is somehow incredibly frustrating to me. I just kept thinking that someone really ought to be holding that baby, namely her parents - though I would do in a pinch. Seeing the babies lined up in cribs, having to wait for “visiting hours”…it just doesn’t make any sense to me.
My sister-in-law hadn’t breastfed yet, about 24 hours after the birth, because she hadn’t showered yet and was “dirty” from the labor. That almost made me go apeshit on everyone, until I decided that it wasn’t my fight. I’m not close enough to my sister-in-law to butt in like that. She said she was planning on breastfeeding, but I don’t know how important it really is to her. I have to separate my own mommy goals from my sister-in-law and niece. It’s hard to do, since I’m nearly ready to pop myself.
I’m not great at being a bitch (an invitation for “um…yeah you are!” comments.), but I think this is really the time for it. I’m not about to be pressured into a c-section for the convenience or monetary gain of someone else. And waiting for “visiting hours” to see my own baby is just out of the question.
Maybe it’ll be easier to harness the bitch because it’s almost expected. The worst behavior from a laboring woman is tolerated, even as she might get dismissed. Of course, in the end, it isn’t even bitchiness to demand certain things like laboring where you want and getting to cuddle your baby afterwards. It’s just one way to call a woman who is determined to get what she wants.
Still, it’s a convenient and motivating term, so I’ll run with it.
I think I’m in a good situation to get what I want – mostly because I do feel so determined, but also because Hernan absolutely has my back on this, and our birth center, doctor and doula seem so dedicated to natural birth and to respecting the wishes of the mother. We feel so lucky to have found them. If we hadn’t, I don’t think I’d have this baby in Mexico.
So much for the “huge” baby the doctors had been saying would require a cesarean. That’s just about as average as you can get for weight and length.
My sister-in-law did have her baby by cesarean. It seemed likely from the outset, since they’d been telling her from the beginning she would probably “need” one, and since they’re just so common down here. I didn’t get any details with which I could decide whether or not I agree the c-section was necessary, not that it matters to anyone else that I agree. I know my sister-in-law was hoping to have the baby naturally. Maybe it’s not a bad thing – after all they both seem to be doing relatively well. Still, it leaves me with an unpleasant feeling that this was just another routine surgery for her doctor, that her wishes weren’t respected. It’s hard to say. I’ve become very suspicious.
Visiting them in the hospital was really nice, it was coo-a-rific, but I’m doubly certain now I don’t want to be having my baby there. Having to look at a newborn through a glass window is somehow incredibly frustrating to me. I just kept thinking that someone really ought to be holding that baby, namely her parents - though I would do in a pinch. Seeing the babies lined up in cribs, having to wait for “visiting hours”…it just doesn’t make any sense to me.
My sister-in-law hadn’t breastfed yet, about 24 hours after the birth, because she hadn’t showered yet and was “dirty” from the labor. That almost made me go apeshit on everyone, until I decided that it wasn’t my fight. I’m not close enough to my sister-in-law to butt in like that. She said she was planning on breastfeeding, but I don’t know how important it really is to her. I have to separate my own mommy goals from my sister-in-law and niece. It’s hard to do, since I’m nearly ready to pop myself.
I’m not great at being a bitch (an invitation for “um…yeah you are!” comments.), but I think this is really the time for it. I’m not about to be pressured into a c-section for the convenience or monetary gain of someone else. And waiting for “visiting hours” to see my own baby is just out of the question.
Maybe it’ll be easier to harness the bitch because it’s almost expected. The worst behavior from a laboring woman is tolerated, even as she might get dismissed. Of course, in the end, it isn’t even bitchiness to demand certain things like laboring where you want and getting to cuddle your baby afterwards. It’s just one way to call a woman who is determined to get what she wants.
Still, it’s a convenient and motivating term, so I’ll run with it.
I think I’m in a good situation to get what I want – mostly because I do feel so determined, but also because Hernan absolutely has my back on this, and our birth center, doctor and doula seem so dedicated to natural birth and to respecting the wishes of the mother. We feel so lucky to have found them. If we hadn’t, I don’t think I’d have this baby in Mexico.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Niece A-Comin'
This post is about babies and them getting born, but nothing graphic. If the very topic makes you uncomfy or sceered, though, then read no more.
My sister-in-law is in labor. (That's right, we're just a breeding team down here!) My new niece will probably be born today.
I'm really pleased the doctors are "letting" her try to give birth the natural way. They've been threatening a cesarean. Cesarean rates are crazy high down here. Some hospitals have rates of 75, 80, even 85%.
At the pool party yesterday, aunts and cousins asked me whether I had scheduled a c-section. I said I was hoping to avoid one (slice open my abdomen? pass, please.), and the consensus was that I'm either incredibly brave or really innocent. That may be (probably the latter), but don't women all over the world push out babies, like, oh, pretty much all the time? Not that that makes it a piece of cake or anything (mmm... cake), but still, it seems like a pretty normal way to end preggerdom. I don't think trying it the old fashioned way first is a sign of bravery. I mean, really, at this point, this baby's gotta come out somehow (have I mentioned I'm humongous?), and trying to avoid major abdominal surgery doesn't strike me as brave, not exactly.
I'm pleased with my birth center in Guadalajara, with having a doctor and a doula who support natural birth, with having a say in what medical interventions I get. I think that's really what it's about: having a say. A woman should be well informed and able to to choose whether she wants the knife, narcotics, to sit in a tub of ice cream, or what have you. Whatever works, you know. That's true not just for having babies.
I hope my new niece's birth goes well for mom and baby. I can't believe it's only a few weeks or so before I go through this too. Crazy. I guess it's almost time to get the ice cream vat ready.
My sister-in-law is in labor. (That's right, we're just a breeding team down here!) My new niece will probably be born today.
I'm really pleased the doctors are "letting" her try to give birth the natural way. They've been threatening a cesarean. Cesarean rates are crazy high down here. Some hospitals have rates of 75, 80, even 85%.
At the pool party yesterday, aunts and cousins asked me whether I had scheduled a c-section. I said I was hoping to avoid one (slice open my abdomen? pass, please.), and the consensus was that I'm either incredibly brave or really innocent. That may be (probably the latter), but don't women all over the world push out babies, like, oh, pretty much all the time? Not that that makes it a piece of cake or anything (mmm... cake), but still, it seems like a pretty normal way to end preggerdom. I don't think trying it the old fashioned way first is a sign of bravery. I mean, really, at this point, this baby's gotta come out somehow (have I mentioned I'm humongous?), and trying to avoid major abdominal surgery doesn't strike me as brave, not exactly.
I'm pleased with my birth center in Guadalajara, with having a doctor and a doula who support natural birth, with having a say in what medical interventions I get. I think that's really what it's about: having a say. A woman should be well informed and able to to choose whether she wants the knife, narcotics, to sit in a tub of ice cream, or what have you. Whatever works, you know. That's true not just for having babies.
I hope my new niece's birth goes well for mom and baby. I can't believe it's only a few weeks or so before I go through this too. Crazy. I guess it's almost time to get the ice cream vat ready.
Family Pool Party
Walking around San Juan Cosalá, one doesn’t think of luxury, at least not in the way I used to think of luxury. Standards get lowered, what can I say? And yet, behind many of the stone and brick walls, some covered in the graffiti of the local gangs, there are hidden oases of luxury: lawn, swimming pools, lakefront vistas. I never suspected.
These are the “country homes” of wealthy Guadalajara residents. As I understand it, most of these houses have been owned a long time by wealthy city people: doctors, lawyers, drug dealers. The new-wave moneyed people, mostly Americans and Canadians, eschew town-living and instead own the modern homes up the hill in the gated community, the Racquet Club.
I stumbled into one of these casas del campo yesterday. Hernan’s aunt and uncle are long-time caretakers of two such houses in town. Yesterday we had a family pool party in the backyard of one of them. Pretty sweet. Cousins, kids, babies… not all relatives showed up (would that be half the town??), but we were a sizable group.
San Juan has no parks, but it felt like that’s where we were yesterday. The large lawn slopes down to the lake (which I like to pretend is the ocean), and there are plants and flowers everywhere. We made carne asada, with fixings: tortillas, pinto beans, nopales, guacamole, and some tiny, spicy chiles. (Robin, I’m sorry I didn’t have my camera with me.)
The pool was filled by pumping thermal waters from one of the three property wells, which means the water was really hot and no one wanted to get in until about eight o’clock at night.
I actually really enjoy these large family get-togethers, especially when they take place outside (and with a pool!), instead of in front of the tv, as per usual. One-on-one conversations are still pretty hard for me to maintain, but in a large group the pressure is off. Also, being one of a group allows me to mimic the reactions of the other participants, so I know when to laugh or when to look scandalized. People don’t really like it when you mix those two up and give them the wrong reaction to their story.
Hernan and his kid brother wrestled in the lawn. Babies, women, and teenagers hung out by the pool. Older relatives relaxed in the shade. Three cheers for family fun time.
Final mystery question: how was it possible that we were all able to show up at 4:00 on a Wednesday? I don’t know. Maybe everyone else is unemployed, too. I’m not sure. Mysterious.
These are the “country homes” of wealthy Guadalajara residents. As I understand it, most of these houses have been owned a long time by wealthy city people: doctors, lawyers, drug dealers. The new-wave moneyed people, mostly Americans and Canadians, eschew town-living and instead own the modern homes up the hill in the gated community, the Racquet Club.
I stumbled into one of these casas del campo yesterday. Hernan’s aunt and uncle are long-time caretakers of two such houses in town. Yesterday we had a family pool party in the backyard of one of them. Pretty sweet. Cousins, kids, babies… not all relatives showed up (would that be half the town??), but we were a sizable group.
San Juan has no parks, but it felt like that’s where we were yesterday. The large lawn slopes down to the lake (which I like to pretend is the ocean), and there are plants and flowers everywhere. We made carne asada, with fixings: tortillas, pinto beans, nopales, guacamole, and some tiny, spicy chiles. (Robin, I’m sorry I didn’t have my camera with me.)
The pool was filled by pumping thermal waters from one of the three property wells, which means the water was really hot and no one wanted to get in until about eight o’clock at night.
I actually really enjoy these large family get-togethers, especially when they take place outside (and with a pool!), instead of in front of the tv, as per usual. One-on-one conversations are still pretty hard for me to maintain, but in a large group the pressure is off. Also, being one of a group allows me to mimic the reactions of the other participants, so I know when to laugh or when to look scandalized. People don’t really like it when you mix those two up and give them the wrong reaction to their story.
Hernan and his kid brother wrestled in the lawn. Babies, women, and teenagers hung out by the pool. Older relatives relaxed in the shade. Three cheers for family fun time.
Final mystery question: how was it possible that we were all able to show up at 4:00 on a Wednesday? I don’t know. Maybe everyone else is unemployed, too. I’m not sure. Mysterious.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Caguamon
Yesterday, bored outta my gourd, I went and sat on a bench in front of the house to watch traffic or whatever.
Recall that I live directly across the highway from a beer store, so there's always a lot of action.
I was entertained to witness a bus pull in front of the beer store. The driver got out and bought himself a caguamon, which is basically a Mexican forty.
Just a little pit stop before continuing his route.
Recall that I live directly across the highway from a beer store, so there's always a lot of action.
I was entertained to witness a bus pull in front of the beer store. The driver got out and bought himself a caguamon, which is basically a Mexican forty.
Just a little pit stop before continuing his route.
A Brief Moment of Honesty
What makes it so hard to adapt to life here?
I think the only thing keeping me above the insanity line these days is the expectation of my little baby showing up soon, and the false hope that caring for it will be rewarding and distracting enough to get me through the next year and a half.
I try to convince myself that I’m not fully appreciative of the luxury of having time to stay home and care for this little one, that I’m not working now, I don’t have to worry about fighting for maternity leave or having to find day care for a three-month-old. But I think we all know that that’s bullshit. It’s like saying that the unemployed live in the luxury of not having to worry about getting fired.
It’s true that having this time is nice in many ways. I am happy I’ll have time after the baby arrives to just stay at home, but that doesn’t change that I miss working, that we’re slipping into poverty, that I might go insane having no one to talk to except a newborn and the internet.
So what’s my god damn problem already? My problem is that I don’t want to be here, and I never did. I liked the life I had, and I like it even more now that I don’t have it. I don’t want to live in Mexico, and I never wanted to. I’m not remotely interested in adapting to life in a small Mexican village, surrounded by people I don’t want to relate to. I want to keep on being a liberal, educated, atheist, environmentalist, feminist, dorky, social foodie living among friends and beautiful places. I don’t like the lifestyle here. I don’t like the religiousness, the racism, the sexism, the lack of education, the pollution. I don’t want to be here, and that’s why even the little things bother me. I can’t adapt because I’m unwilling to. I’m unwilling to give up my old life. I still want it. And as long as I continue pining after that life instead, I’ll probably continue to be pretty unhappy here.
As much as I lie and say I’m here for other reasons, I’m here only because I feel I have no other choice.
This doesn’t change that I’ll try to make the most of it, that I’ll keep trying to dupe myself into thinking I'll make it work. It doesn’t change the fact that I am here, and until that changes I had really better suck it up and move on.
I think the only thing keeping me above the insanity line these days is the expectation of my little baby showing up soon, and the false hope that caring for it will be rewarding and distracting enough to get me through the next year and a half.
I try to convince myself that I’m not fully appreciative of the luxury of having time to stay home and care for this little one, that I’m not working now, I don’t have to worry about fighting for maternity leave or having to find day care for a three-month-old. But I think we all know that that’s bullshit. It’s like saying that the unemployed live in the luxury of not having to worry about getting fired.
It’s true that having this time is nice in many ways. I am happy I’ll have time after the baby arrives to just stay at home, but that doesn’t change that I miss working, that we’re slipping into poverty, that I might go insane having no one to talk to except a newborn and the internet.
So what’s my god damn problem already? My problem is that I don’t want to be here, and I never did. I liked the life I had, and I like it even more now that I don’t have it. I don’t want to live in Mexico, and I never wanted to. I’m not remotely interested in adapting to life in a small Mexican village, surrounded by people I don’t want to relate to. I want to keep on being a liberal, educated, atheist, environmentalist, feminist, dorky, social foodie living among friends and beautiful places. I don’t like the lifestyle here. I don’t like the religiousness, the racism, the sexism, the lack of education, the pollution. I don’t want to be here, and that’s why even the little things bother me. I can’t adapt because I’m unwilling to. I’m unwilling to give up my old life. I still want it. And as long as I continue pining after that life instead, I’ll probably continue to be pretty unhappy here.
As much as I lie and say I’m here for other reasons, I’m here only because I feel I have no other choice.
This doesn’t change that I’ll try to make the most of it, that I’ll keep trying to dupe myself into thinking I'll make it work. It doesn’t change the fact that I am here, and until that changes I had really better suck it up and move on.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Doors and doorways
Sometimes other people make choices I don't understand. This happens quite a lot, actually. Like women who wear spandex pants designed to "look like" blue jeans. I just plain don't get it.
Another choice I don't understand is why Hernan and his father spent the entire day moving the doorway to the storage space a few feet to the right, instead of, say, installing a door to our bathroom.
I assume there is a reason. I just don't know what it is.
They removed the door to the storage room and filled the doorway with bricks and mortar. They also opened a new doorway a few feet to one side of the old doorway and are now reinstalling the original door.
This is a curious business.
I'll endeavor to understand this tonight, about the same time I restate the benefits of bathroom privacy.
Another choice I don't understand is why Hernan and his father spent the entire day moving the doorway to the storage space a few feet to the right, instead of, say, installing a door to our bathroom.
I assume there is a reason. I just don't know what it is.
They removed the door to the storage room and filled the doorway with bricks and mortar. They also opened a new doorway a few feet to one side of the old doorway and are now reinstalling the original door.
This is a curious business.
I'll endeavor to understand this tonight, about the same time I restate the benefits of bathroom privacy.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
House Projects
Work on our house stalled for a while, because Hernan had work to do - the kind of work a person gets paid for. So not much has happened here since I got my fridge.
We've been working on plans to extend a deck out over the "patio" we have. Remember that we've been building on the roof of my in-laws place, so this "patio" is the sloped roof over their dining room. We're trying to find an affordable and relatively quick way to raise it to the height of our little casita and make it level.
Personally, I'm still pushing for a bathroom door (hello, neighbors!) and maybe some shelves in the kitchen.
Yesterday Hernan dug up a layer of the roof so he can put in a concrete beam to support a future wall. His folks place was built piecemeal over many, many years. It's kind of a quirky place. Much of it, the older parts, are made of adobe. That's what we dug up yesterday: dirt.
Blocks of dirt surrounded by concrete.
Here's another shot, so you can admire my potted plants in the background and the beer store sign from across the street.
This is the view from our kitchen.
At this moment, I hear lots of banging and other construction-y sounds coming from the roof over my bedroom. Hernan is up there, purportedly building a protective structure over our water heater and water pump. The winds we've been having keep blowing out the pilot light to the heater. It would be nice to not have to climb the ladder to relight it every day.
We've been working on plans to extend a deck out over the "patio" we have. Remember that we've been building on the roof of my in-laws place, so this "patio" is the sloped roof over their dining room. We're trying to find an affordable and relatively quick way to raise it to the height of our little casita and make it level.
Personally, I'm still pushing for a bathroom door (hello, neighbors!) and maybe some shelves in the kitchen.
Yesterday Hernan dug up a layer of the roof so he can put in a concrete beam to support a future wall. His folks place was built piecemeal over many, many years. It's kind of a quirky place. Much of it, the older parts, are made of adobe. That's what we dug up yesterday: dirt.
Blocks of dirt surrounded by concrete.
Here's another shot, so you can admire my potted plants in the background and the beer store sign from across the street.
This is the view from our kitchen.
At this moment, I hear lots of banging and other construction-y sounds coming from the roof over my bedroom. Hernan is up there, purportedly building a protective structure over our water heater and water pump. The winds we've been having keep blowing out the pilot light to the heater. It would be nice to not have to climb the ladder to relight it every day.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Sometimes a girl wants a stout
Dear Stout,
I miss you. I’m sorry it’s been so long. It’s not that I’ve forgotten about you, it’s just that now is not a good time for us to be together. Soon, though, I hope, we’ll be reunited.
I know you don’t come to Mexico often, but I thought you could make an exception and maybe we could meet up in July, or even sooner maybe.
Let me know.
In fondest memory…
I miss you. I’m sorry it’s been so long. It’s not that I’ve forgotten about you, it’s just that now is not a good time for us to be together. Soon, though, I hope, we’ll be reunited.
I know you don’t come to Mexico often, but I thought you could make an exception and maybe we could meet up in July, or even sooner maybe.
Let me know.
In fondest memory…
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Afternoon Downpour
Today we had our first big afternoon rain, the sudden strong downpour that is the daily afternoon event during this season. We’re pretty satisfied that, put to the test, no roof leaked.
It also smelled amazing afterwards: like fresh water, instead of the normal olfactory potpourri of car exhaust, burning plastic, and sewage. The fresh smell lasted for an hour or two, but the temperature has remained cool all afternoon.
It also smelled amazing afterwards: like fresh water, instead of the normal olfactory potpourri of car exhaust, burning plastic, and sewage. The fresh smell lasted for an hour or two, but the temperature has remained cool all afternoon.
Friday, May 15, 2009
My New Best Friend
As some of you may know, I find life in San Juan Cosalá very lonely. This is because I have no friends here. I mostly just have Hernan, who’s always busy, and my mother-in-law, who spends her free time watching telanovelas (morning, afternoon, and night).
My efforts to meet people have all failed. I find this very frustrating. Part of the problem, I believe, is that a general rule here in town is that men and women cannot be friends. It’s not that it isn’t allowed, it’s that it is considered an impossibility. And since everyone is up in everyone else’s business here, a brief conversation between unrelated men and women rapidly becomes the town scandal of infidelity. And so, when Hernan goes out with his friends, I’m never invited. And keep in mind that in this town there are still plenty who would assume any woman who would set foot in a bar (if we had one in town) would be a woman of loose morals. It’s fantastic.
I guess it's a good thing I've been abstaining from the bottle for the baby's sake, or I'd be sure to be considered the town floozy.
As for women – I haven’t figured out how to meet them. I think they spend most of their time in their homes with their children. Maybe when I have a child of my own I can go door to door and make friends by bonding over diapers. I really may get that desperate.
So I was pretty stoked today when I was invited to have lunch with a woman in Ajijic. She’s an American woman I met when I had her young son in one of my classes at Tohui (http://muestras.netcommerce.com.mx/kindertohui/default.asp), where I briefly worked as a child wrangler.
She lives in a lovely area of Ajijic where they have sidewalks and trees. I might start spending time in that neighborhood just because it's so much more pleasant than where I live.
I had a wonderful time doing these things: eating tofu sloppy joes, speaking in English, feeling understood. It was great. I think I even pulled off the afternoon without shouting how excited I was to have a friend, though I suppose it could have slipped out with my notice.
I hope this woman is prepared to be made into my new best friend. She may not know what she’s gotten herself into. I’m pretty desperate for company (hi, I'm blogging) and also she admitted to regularly making ice cream. How could I not become her stalker?
It was also a good day because the bus I rode out to Ajijic was bumping Bob Marley and UB40, which was just a fun change from the banda that the drivers usually play. Also, I should mention the glow in the dark Jesus stickers on the bus ceiling.
My efforts to meet people have all failed. I find this very frustrating. Part of the problem, I believe, is that a general rule here in town is that men and women cannot be friends. It’s not that it isn’t allowed, it’s that it is considered an impossibility. And since everyone is up in everyone else’s business here, a brief conversation between unrelated men and women rapidly becomes the town scandal of infidelity. And so, when Hernan goes out with his friends, I’m never invited. And keep in mind that in this town there are still plenty who would assume any woman who would set foot in a bar (if we had one in town) would be a woman of loose morals. It’s fantastic.
I guess it's a good thing I've been abstaining from the bottle for the baby's sake, or I'd be sure to be considered the town floozy.
As for women – I haven’t figured out how to meet them. I think they spend most of their time in their homes with their children. Maybe when I have a child of my own I can go door to door and make friends by bonding over diapers. I really may get that desperate.
So I was pretty stoked today when I was invited to have lunch with a woman in Ajijic. She’s an American woman I met when I had her young son in one of my classes at Tohui (http://muestras.netcommerce.com.mx/kindertohui/default.asp), where I briefly worked as a child wrangler.
She lives in a lovely area of Ajijic where they have sidewalks and trees. I might start spending time in that neighborhood just because it's so much more pleasant than where I live.
I had a wonderful time doing these things: eating tofu sloppy joes, speaking in English, feeling understood. It was great. I think I even pulled off the afternoon without shouting how excited I was to have a friend, though I suppose it could have slipped out with my notice.
I hope this woman is prepared to be made into my new best friend. She may not know what she’s gotten herself into. I’m pretty desperate for company (hi, I'm blogging) and also she admitted to regularly making ice cream. How could I not become her stalker?
It was also a good day because the bus I rode out to Ajijic was bumping Bob Marley and UB40, which was just a fun change from the banda that the drivers usually play. Also, I should mention the glow in the dark Jesus stickers on the bus ceiling.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Pitaya Picking
Today we went to pick pitayas in the mountains. First we rode our bicycles out to el rancho, my father-in-law's farm.
I would like you to picture a nine month pregnant me on her pink mountain bike, riding through a light rain in San Juan Cosalá. I would like you to picture this because it sure felt ridiculous, and I can only hope the image is equally comical. If it makes it any funnier, I can share that because of my big belly, I had to pedal with my legs angled out to the sides, the way, one could say, a clown might ride a miniature tricycle.
At his farm, my father-in-law grows chayotes (squash) and calabazas (more squash). He was plowing the field when we got there - with a team of mules! Yep, just like the pictures in middle school history books, with equipment that is now dated enough in the US to be displayed in museums. It really looked like hard work.
Hernan's teenage brother, cousin, some other dude, and 8 year-old nephew were already at the ranch. Hernan and I joined them there. They fashioned a fruit picker out of some wire and long bamboo-like poles that grow nearby. Pretty resourceful. I've started to consider Hernan the Mexican MacGyver. You give the man some wire, a small piece of wood and a machete and he'll fashion you a wine cooler. Or maybe a lawn chair.
Properly equipped, we walked up into the mountains to find the huge pitaya cacti that grow there.
The pitaya cacti are huge tree-like plants, which become covered in spikey pitaya fruits this time of year. We encountered red and yellow pitayas, although apparently pink, purple and white also used to be very common in the mountains.
Some unknown puppy joined us. It felt like we were a band of boys and their dog, just like in some wholesome children's movie, up in the mountains on some innocent childhood adventure, until suddenly we are confronted with the bank robbers camped out in a cave, or else we discover what real friendship means, or maybe we just weather a bad storm and eventually return home. Something cheesy like that. Except I'm a big pregnant woman, and mostly we just picked pitayas.
Still, it was a delicious summertime adventure, and I really enjoyed my reunion with my bicycle.
I would like you to picture a nine month pregnant me on her pink mountain bike, riding through a light rain in San Juan Cosalá. I would like you to picture this because it sure felt ridiculous, and I can only hope the image is equally comical. If it makes it any funnier, I can share that because of my big belly, I had to pedal with my legs angled out to the sides, the way, one could say, a clown might ride a miniature tricycle.
At his farm, my father-in-law grows chayotes (squash) and calabazas (more squash). He was plowing the field when we got there - with a team of mules! Yep, just like the pictures in middle school history books, with equipment that is now dated enough in the US to be displayed in museums. It really looked like hard work.
Hernan's teenage brother, cousin, some other dude, and 8 year-old nephew were already at the ranch. Hernan and I joined them there. They fashioned a fruit picker out of some wire and long bamboo-like poles that grow nearby. Pretty resourceful. I've started to consider Hernan the Mexican MacGyver. You give the man some wire, a small piece of wood and a machete and he'll fashion you a wine cooler. Or maybe a lawn chair.
Properly equipped, we walked up into the mountains to find the huge pitaya cacti that grow there.
The pitaya cacti are huge tree-like plants, which become covered in spikey pitaya fruits this time of year. We encountered red and yellow pitayas, although apparently pink, purple and white also used to be very common in the mountains.
Some unknown puppy joined us. It felt like we were a band of boys and their dog, just like in some wholesome children's movie, up in the mountains on some innocent childhood adventure, until suddenly we are confronted with the bank robbers camped out in a cave, or else we discover what real friendship means, or maybe we just weather a bad storm and eventually return home. Something cheesy like that. Except I'm a big pregnant woman, and mostly we just picked pitayas.
Still, it was a delicious summertime adventure, and I really enjoyed my reunion with my bicycle.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Blah, blah, blah
Today I can't focus on one topic, so you get a potpourri.
The Spawn is Just Fine
Yesterday afternoon Hernan and I went to Guadalajara for a baby check-up. Everything seems to be just fine. This was nice to hear after a month of in-laws and neighbors telling me how my baby's too big or too small, that I have twins, that my abdomen is the wrong size, too high or too low, or how I need to be crawling around the house on my hands and knees to get the baby to fall into the right position because right now it's clearly in the wrong position and if I have a c-section it will obviously be my fault for not spending all my time crawling around on my hands and knees.
I'm certain they mean well, but having a passel of doomsayers isn't helpful.
So we like our doctor, who always tells us we're fine.
Traffic
On another topic, the drive to Guadalajara reminded me that "road safe" is not really a concept down here. "If you can get it to move, you can take it on the highway" would probably be a good slogan. In some ways I kind of admire the attitude, and people are clearly very resourceful. However, the combination of speeding cars, pickups full of loose debris, trailers with a passion for danger, slow-moving tractors, and jalopies makes for a dangerous ride, especially when you throw in the pedestrians, street vendors, cyclists, and farm animals.
It's not uncommon, for example, to have to suddenly stop on the highway because cows are crossing, or because that's only as fast as the pickup with the two sows in the back can go.
Yesterday we got to drive through a dust storm as we passed a trailer. It appeared the trailer was hauling dirt, a considerable portion of which formed a thick cloud around it as it progressed down the highway. We also just missed being flattened, three separate times, by semi trucks making sudden highways exists from three lanes over.
Care Packages
The state of Jalisco has extended the shut down of schools and public spaces for another few weeks. At first this really bummed me out, but then I remembered that there's nowhere around here for me to go anyway, so it really doesn't matter. I was worried, though, that all this swine flu shutdown business has included the postal service. I've been expecting care packages. Luckily for me, the postal service was only shut down for the first week of so, the period of national shutdown. This state-specific shutdown extension hasn't included the post, and so yesterday was a holiday: a backlog of care packages arrived, including our box of ramen and the baby hand-me-down clothes that were my niece's. We are very pleased.
First Rain
We have now had two nights with rain, which marks the beginning of the rainy season. I expected it to begin with a boom, but it looks like we'll be eased into it. Any day now the afternoon rains will begin. Hernan says they've started earlier this year.
The rain is welcome. I'm sick of the dust and dryness. And afterwards, the air is actually clear for a good two or three hours (before all the smoke and car exhaust get trapped beneath the cloud cover again).
Robin, have the monsoons started in Mumbai yet? Did I win the race? You knew it was a race, right?
The Spawn is Just Fine
Yesterday afternoon Hernan and I went to Guadalajara for a baby check-up. Everything seems to be just fine. This was nice to hear after a month of in-laws and neighbors telling me how my baby's too big or too small, that I have twins, that my abdomen is the wrong size, too high or too low, or how I need to be crawling around the house on my hands and knees to get the baby to fall into the right position because right now it's clearly in the wrong position and if I have a c-section it will obviously be my fault for not spending all my time crawling around on my hands and knees.
I'm certain they mean well, but having a passel of doomsayers isn't helpful.
So we like our doctor, who always tells us we're fine.
Traffic
On another topic, the drive to Guadalajara reminded me that "road safe" is not really a concept down here. "If you can get it to move, you can take it on the highway" would probably be a good slogan. In some ways I kind of admire the attitude, and people are clearly very resourceful. However, the combination of speeding cars, pickups full of loose debris, trailers with a passion for danger, slow-moving tractors, and jalopies makes for a dangerous ride, especially when you throw in the pedestrians, street vendors, cyclists, and farm animals.
It's not uncommon, for example, to have to suddenly stop on the highway because cows are crossing, or because that's only as fast as the pickup with the two sows in the back can go.
Yesterday we got to drive through a dust storm as we passed a trailer. It appeared the trailer was hauling dirt, a considerable portion of which formed a thick cloud around it as it progressed down the highway. We also just missed being flattened, three separate times, by semi trucks making sudden highways exists from three lanes over.
Care Packages
The state of Jalisco has extended the shut down of schools and public spaces for another few weeks. At first this really bummed me out, but then I remembered that there's nowhere around here for me to go anyway, so it really doesn't matter. I was worried, though, that all this swine flu shutdown business has included the postal service. I've been expecting care packages. Luckily for me, the postal service was only shut down for the first week of so, the period of national shutdown. This state-specific shutdown extension hasn't included the post, and so yesterday was a holiday: a backlog of care packages arrived, including our box of ramen and the baby hand-me-down clothes that were my niece's. We are very pleased.
First Rain
We have now had two nights with rain, which marks the beginning of the rainy season. I expected it to begin with a boom, but it looks like we'll be eased into it. Any day now the afternoon rains will begin. Hernan says they've started earlier this year.
The rain is welcome. I'm sick of the dust and dryness. And afterwards, the air is actually clear for a good two or three hours (before all the smoke and car exhaust get trapped beneath the cloud cover again).
Robin, have the monsoons started in Mumbai yet? Did I win the race? You knew it was a race, right?
Bagels
I'm always hungry. This is something I like to blame on the baby, but we all know that "hungry" is just my default state of existence. I might try to make bagels today, because I miss me a good bagel. I even noticed cream cheese for sale in the fancy-pants grocery store in San Antonio. I'm pretty sure I should be able to whip these up no problem, because, after all, I have a lot of experience with play dough. I'm pretty good with the making of long "snakes" of dough and then making those into loops, so I reckon bagel making will be the same.
Still, if you have ever done this, or have a recipe, or are in possession of secret bagel-making tips, please share. I have to make pre-breakfast first, anyway, so the bagels might not appear until much later today.
Still, if you have ever done this, or have a recipe, or are in possession of secret bagel-making tips, please share. I have to make pre-breakfast first, anyway, so the bagels might not appear until much later today.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Too many legs
An aside - Last night Hernan killed two cockroaches that were in our room. When I walked out of the bedroom this morning there they were, on the floor, waiting for me, two dead gifts, like my husband is some kind of cat or something.
Mother's Day Mañanitas
I don’t sleep well anymore. The reasons for this cluster into two groups: Late Pregnancy Reasons and Life in San Juan Cosalá Reasons.
The first set includes: resembling a manatee and being generally uncomfortable, having to sleep on my side (oh the day I’ll sleep on my stomach or back again!), the baby practicing wushu on my ribs, frequent trips to the wc, and that I’m no longer able to breathe through my nose when lying down. That last one is totally rad, by the way.
Life in San Juan Cosalá reasons are all related to ambient noise, and include: people yelling in the street (For some reason, people are always yelling in the street. Why are they always yelling? Why?), gas truck jingles, the neglected and chained dog next door always barking, soap operas from the tv downstairs and the cranked up tv next door, trucks braking with their motors as they pass in front of the house, cars with loudspeakers broadcasting the sale of watermelons and blenders, pigs screaming from the slaughterhouse, drunk people at the beer store across the street, and the stereos of the trucks of the drunk people buying beer from the beer store across the street.
This morning, however, I awoke at the late hour of 7:00 AM, and not to passing gas trucks nor to the stereos of early morning beer runners. No, today was Mother’s Day, and so, obviously, I awoke instead to the sound of a rather lively marching band. Clearly.
Yes, apparently the tradition is to serenade your mother early in the morning with a live band to show her how much you appreciate and love her. Nothing says “Mom, I love you” like an early morning snare drum.
This runs counter to my belief that if you really wanted to show appreciation, you’d let the woman sleep in for once, maybe make her some waffles. But no. Here, you hire a band to play her las mañanitas, which I guess is a song or set of songs that you sing to someone on a special day, such as Mother’s Day or their birthday.
We ran out on the roof to watch the street from above. The band was actually quite good. And we spotted a shirtless fellow really getting down to the music, which naturally only enhanced our own enjoyment. Later, we heard other bands around the neighborhood, including a mariachi group.
I’m told that I must have been really tired to have slept through the earlier mañanitas, because they start as early as midnight on Mother’s Day. I’ve made it clear to Hernan that should he ever wish to serenade me, the afternoon would be a better choice. I also suggested matching costumes and coordinated dance moves terminating in jazz hands and maybe confetti. We’ll see what happens. I probably won’t even get the waffles.
So, yes, Mother’s Day. Weird, but suddenly this day applies to me. It’s like I’m joining some new club or something, or like I lied about my birthday so I could get free cake in May – that’s kind of how it felt. My nephew-in-law made me a paper flower and stuffed it with very strange marshmallow candies. And Hernan made enchiladas for everyone, which, actually, is far better than any waffles.
That’s about all that happened. The rest of the Hernan’s family came over and we made carne asada and roasted corn. Then everyone spent the rest of the day watching bad movies on tv, while my mother-in-law cleaned up after everyone, you know, because it’s her day. Or something.
Now it’s evening again, and I can look forward to another night of little sleep. I enjoyed the mañanitas this morning. I guess I prefer waking to tubas than to gas truck jingles.
The first set includes: resembling a manatee and being generally uncomfortable, having to sleep on my side (oh the day I’ll sleep on my stomach or back again!), the baby practicing wushu on my ribs, frequent trips to the wc, and that I’m no longer able to breathe through my nose when lying down. That last one is totally rad, by the way.
Life in San Juan Cosalá reasons are all related to ambient noise, and include: people yelling in the street (For some reason, people are always yelling in the street. Why are they always yelling? Why?), gas truck jingles, the neglected and chained dog next door always barking, soap operas from the tv downstairs and the cranked up tv next door, trucks braking with their motors as they pass in front of the house, cars with loudspeakers broadcasting the sale of watermelons and blenders, pigs screaming from the slaughterhouse, drunk people at the beer store across the street, and the stereos of the trucks of the drunk people buying beer from the beer store across the street.
This morning, however, I awoke at the late hour of 7:00 AM, and not to passing gas trucks nor to the stereos of early morning beer runners. No, today was Mother’s Day, and so, obviously, I awoke instead to the sound of a rather lively marching band. Clearly.
Yes, apparently the tradition is to serenade your mother early in the morning with a live band to show her how much you appreciate and love her. Nothing says “Mom, I love you” like an early morning snare drum.
This runs counter to my belief that if you really wanted to show appreciation, you’d let the woman sleep in for once, maybe make her some waffles. But no. Here, you hire a band to play her las mañanitas, which I guess is a song or set of songs that you sing to someone on a special day, such as Mother’s Day or their birthday.
We ran out on the roof to watch the street from above. The band was actually quite good. And we spotted a shirtless fellow really getting down to the music, which naturally only enhanced our own enjoyment. Later, we heard other bands around the neighborhood, including a mariachi group.
I’m told that I must have been really tired to have slept through the earlier mañanitas, because they start as early as midnight on Mother’s Day. I’ve made it clear to Hernan that should he ever wish to serenade me, the afternoon would be a better choice. I also suggested matching costumes and coordinated dance moves terminating in jazz hands and maybe confetti. We’ll see what happens. I probably won’t even get the waffles.
So, yes, Mother’s Day. Weird, but suddenly this day applies to me. It’s like I’m joining some new club or something, or like I lied about my birthday so I could get free cake in May – that’s kind of how it felt. My nephew-in-law made me a paper flower and stuffed it with very strange marshmallow candies. And Hernan made enchiladas for everyone, which, actually, is far better than any waffles.
That’s about all that happened. The rest of the Hernan’s family came over and we made carne asada and roasted corn. Then everyone spent the rest of the day watching bad movies on tv, while my mother-in-law cleaned up after everyone, you know, because it’s her day. Or something.
Now it’s evening again, and I can look forward to another night of little sleep. I enjoyed the mañanitas this morning. I guess I prefer waking to tubas than to gas truck jingles.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Swine Flu, Part III: Health Poster
Amigos, Conocidos Y Familia
Today is the day that “non-essential” businesses are supposed to reopen in Mexico, and everyone is allowed to go back to work, everyone except preggers ladies like me that is. We’re supposed to stay in our homes. (And isn’t that where wives belong anyway?) This would be fine with me if (1) my home were filled with groceries, (2) my home were bigger than a closet, or (3) my home had a pool. Since, however, not one of those three criteria are satisfied, I won’t be confining myself to my dry, foodless closet.
Many businesses will remain closed, especially in Mexico City, such as movie theatres and bull rings, but post offices and restaurants are reopening. Schools will reopen throughout the country tomorrow or early next week. I see many fewer face masks when I go out now, though many people still wear them.
It seems like the fears people felt last week are being replaced by feelings of resentment and suspicion. Many people complain that other countries are treating Mexico and Mexicans poorly, by canceling flights, by quarantining Mexicans as China has done, and by calling it “Mexican flu”. There is some indignation that their image abroad has suffered.
I also hear a lot of suspicion that the whole thing is a conspiracy, involving the Mexican government, at a minimum, and possibly also the governments of the US and other nations. More than once now I’ve heard swine flu compared to the myth of the chupacabra.In addition to the complaints about discrimination and the suspicions that the flu isn’t real, I hear mostly worry. People are worried about the economy. With so many businesses closed and more people staying at home, many people have been without work, and the tourism industry has been hard hit. By the way, this is probably a great time to visit Mexico’s beaches, if you like low rates and empty beaches. Then again, you would be the sole target for the beach vendors, those hearty souls who walk up and down beaches offering to braid your hair or sell you a sarong, necklace, or wooden eagle statue.
On a lighter note, many of us down here find the new health recommendations pretty funny. Health authorities have recommended ways to try to avoid becoming ill. Some of these measures are nothing new, like washing your hands frequently, but others are nearly impossible to follow, such as my favorite, which is to maintain 2.25 meters (~7.4 feet) between you and others at all times.
El Universal has available a handy-dandy poster (http://www.eluniversal.com.mx/graficos/pdf09/convivencia.pdf) that displays many of these recommendations. Some of the recommendations are: don’t wear a tie, because it acts as a reserve for microorganisms, disinfect with alcohol or chlorine three times a day all “objects of common use” in the home, such as telephones, door handles and printers, and maintain a distance of 2.25 meters between you and your coworkers when speaking with them.
Better than the advice, though, is that you can cut this poster out (funny enough on it’s own, since you’re better off printing it. Though you should then wash your hands and disinfect the printer) and use the check boxes to keep yourself on track.
My absolute favorite thing about this poster, though, is the graphics. They’re just terrific.
So please feel encouraged to print this poster, disinfect your printer, cut along the dotted lines, wash your hands, and mark a check in every box adjacent to a recommendation you follow. Then wash your hands. This will help you to stay healthy. You can also share this poster with friends, acquaintances and family (pictured above), but please only do so through electronic means and only while maintaining 2.25 meters between you. Then disinfect your keyboard, mouse, and table top and go wash your hands again.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Wish I had a cinco de mayo party to go to
I did go back to ACA the other day, but perhaps I arrived at an off time, because no one much was around. I didn’t, therefore, get a chance to find out more about the organization or to convince anyone that they need my super farming skills. So I bought a bag of salad greens and left. I still consider this a success, because the lettuce is pretty tasty, and way better than the funky, old iceberg lettuce available in town.
After that I tried to walk to Jocotepec, but I got tired of the air pollution and the harassment from drivers passing by and was worried I’d never find a public restroom, so I decided to take a bus back home. Home is where the heart is? Nope. Home is where my bathroom is.
So I ventured out again yesterday and made it to Jocotepec, this time by bus. After visiting eight (8) shops, and asking all kinds of strangers for help, I finally managed to find (1) yeast for bread making, (2) baking soda, (3) spinach. The spinach looked like it had a had a rough life, so I left it there, and I wasn’t able to find cardamom, which I never really expected to. Still, a great victory.
And yes, I’m counting lettuce and baking soda as victory and success in my life. What of it? That’s just Ms. Optimism Me.
Also during my excursion, a shop owner tried to rip me off and give me back less money than I was owed. He even tried to trick me with a false receipt. Too bad for him I know a thing or two about maths, even maths in Spanish, and in the end he gave me my money. Then asked me to leave.
That’s about as exciting as life gets here. Today is cinco de mayo – I’m pretty sure no one here does anything to celebrate, since it’s basically an American holiday. So enjoy on my behalf the side of Mexico I don’t get down here – pitchers of margaritas, burritos, parties. I’ll just hang out and watch the mountain continue to burn.
This is the view from our place - the Modelorama (beer store) is directly across the highway from us. It's such a waste I can't better take advantage of it.
After that I tried to walk to Jocotepec, but I got tired of the air pollution and the harassment from drivers passing by and was worried I’d never find a public restroom, so I decided to take a bus back home. Home is where the heart is? Nope. Home is where my bathroom is.
So I ventured out again yesterday and made it to Jocotepec, this time by bus. After visiting eight (8) shops, and asking all kinds of strangers for help, I finally managed to find (1) yeast for bread making, (2) baking soda, (3) spinach. The spinach looked like it had a had a rough life, so I left it there, and I wasn’t able to find cardamom, which I never really expected to. Still, a great victory.
And yes, I’m counting lettuce and baking soda as victory and success in my life. What of it? That’s just Ms. Optimism Me.
Also during my excursion, a shop owner tried to rip me off and give me back less money than I was owed. He even tried to trick me with a false receipt. Too bad for him I know a thing or two about maths, even maths in Spanish, and in the end he gave me my money. Then asked me to leave.
That’s about as exciting as life gets here. Today is cinco de mayo – I’m pretty sure no one here does anything to celebrate, since it’s basically an American holiday. So enjoy on my behalf the side of Mexico I don’t get down here – pitchers of margaritas, burritos, parties. I’ll just hang out and watch the mountain continue to burn.
This is the view from our place - the Modelorama (beer store) is directly across the highway from us. It's such a waste I can't better take advantage of it.
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