Amor Oaxaqueño

Whew. I'm going to warn you in advance, this is going to be a doozie of a blog post. Brace yo'self.

We'll start with Turkey Day. All Thursday, I was actively trying to avoid thinking about how I wasn't in Idaho and wasn't sitting in Grandma's kitchen and wasn't sleeping in a strangely shaped attic room. Notre Dame pulled through, however, and didn't leave us unfed on Thanksgiving. Our angel of a coordinator, Lisette, had been planning a Thanksgiving Fiesta for weeks and the day had finally arrived. We put on our shnazzy clothes that had been shoved deep in the bottom drawer all semester (Lisette specifically instructed us to NOT show up looking like ruffians), did our hair (Pat Beard even combed his beard), and navigated ourselves to a fancyshmancy Puebla restaurant. Once the nearly 90 guests had arrived, we were all called up to the front for a special presentation. We had prepared a Puebla-specific rendition of "Be Our Guest" from the dining scene of Beauty & the Beast. In practice, this great idea was a little painful, but it's the thought that counts right? Although this Thanksgiving wasn't quite the same as being surrounded by family, the dinner was a great success! Kudos to Lisette!

The next morning we piled into David's van and rolled out. Lisette organized an end-of-the-semester trip to Oaxaca. Not only did we not have to worry about transportation, housing or daytime activities, but the whole adventure was for freefree (not for paypay (although we did secretly pay for it)). Due to some questionable itinerary planning, we didn't arrive at our first stop until the sun was setting and the site was about to close. Monte Albán is an important archeological site in the state of Oaxaca, a ceremonial mountaintop complex that was constructed by the Zapotecas. We were graciously shepherded through the site by a Discovery Channel star-turned-Mexican-tourguide who might also secretly have been Cyclops. He had the patience of a saint and loved to say exactamente and bastante. While I was mostly paying attention during the tour, I don't really have much knowledge to share, so I'll let the picture do the talking.
Lisette is a smart woman and knew what she was doing when she filled the itinerary. By the time we had a walking tour through the city of Oaxaca, ate dinner and settled into the hotel, we were too tired to do much except watch a movie. A great thing about Mexico is that although Netflix doesn't work and Blockbusters are less than common, pirated DVD shops are literally on every other corner. Disaster struck our moviewatch event when I was allowed to pick the movie. Babel is apparently not the light, uplifting film that the group had in mind. Whoops.
We dragged ourselves out of bed at the crack of dawn (ok that's an exaggeration), nommed some nomz and piled back into the camioneta. Our first stop was probably my favorite of the day. The Tule Tree supposedly has the largest tree trunk in the world, by circumference. Secretly, I think that it is multiple trees that grew together, but we'll leave that out for the sake of impressive statistics. We were all thinking, "Ok this tree is impressive, but at the end of the day, it's just a tree". Then Lisette hired a tourguide. This kid could not have been more than 8 years old, but he had his act DOWN. He led us around the Tule Tree, pointing out animal shapes in the trunk with his little mirror. While the subject matter itself was only vaguely captivating, this kid's inflection and phrases were priceless. But you don't have to take my word for it…
This is a fakeout. The video didn't load. I guess to sum it up, I'll tell you that his go-to line was ¿ya lo vieron? which means "Did you see it yet?"


After vieron-ing everything there was to see hidden in the Tule Tree, we moved on to a family-owned rug factory. Apparently the state of Oaxaca is famous for its traditional rugweavers. We learned about the whole process of cleaning, combing, dying, spinning and finally weaving the wool into beautiful intricate rugs. The Zapoteca indigenous group is known for blowing the socks off the newly-arrived Spaniards with their red clothes and houses. This red dye (at least for the cloth) comes from a bug called cuchinillo that lives on the nopal cactus. It's pretty much as Mexican as you can get. By mixing dried, ground cuchinillo with water and varying amounts of salt and ash, the RugMaster can make every shade of red, maroon, and burgundy imaginable. ¡Qué padre!

The next stop on Lisette's Worldwind Mexican Adventure was a "lemonade" factory. The Mexican countryside is covered in agave plants of every shape and size. The smaller plants are commonly known as aloe vera, the HUGE ones are called maguey, and some of the middle ones are used to make fermented & distilled alcohol. The most commonly known product of agave plants is tequila, but this is actually a type of mezcal, a specialty in Oaxaca. So I lied. We didn't stop at a lemonade factory (lemons aren't even Mexican, silly!); we stopped at a mezcal factory. Don't worry, it was a very educational experience, featuring a tour of the entire operation and samples hot off the distiller. Viva. Mexico. Needless to say, everyone was in a great mood by the time we headed to a buffet lunch. Even after 4 months in Mexico, I have still not managed to adjust to the meal schedule here. An 8AM breakfast just doesn't hold me over until lunch at 2 or 3PM and I am always starving once a mealtime comes around.

We were soon hustled out of the restaurant and onward to the next activity. Mitla is a unique archeological site because unlike the large majority of sites in Mexico, it is not a pyramid. Mitla is home to a living residence/palace. The thing that struck me most about this house was the stairs up to the front door. The ancient inhabitants of Mitla must have been very strangely proportioned, with small feet (to fit on the narrow stairs), long shins (to make the steep stairs reasonable) and killer thighs. This family definitely didn't get many trick-or-treaters knocking at their front door. After learning about the site with Cyclops, we were able to wander around the little town and I made an unexpected friend. A little girl, Briana, invited Erica and I into her parents' shop with the greeting, "Hi! I want y'all to be my friends!" Briana didn't take "Sorry, we have to go soon" as an answer and continued on with introductions. By the time we were able to excuse ourselves, we had met uncles, cousins, and parents, with the promise of more introductions to come. This little episode made me realize just how much I'm going to miss the open, welcoming attitude in Mexico. This is related to another realization that I had recently: my Embarrassment Threshold is infinitely higher than it used to be. Previously, for example, I didn't like asking people questions if I didn't know them, but now I'm fine asking just about any random person for directions or information on why there are excessive fireworks on any given day or why there are frogs everywhere or how to say saltshaker in Spanish. This is partially due to general personal growth and partially due to the warm, helpful response that similar questions usually receive.

But back to the plot. Sunday was another busy day in Oaxaca, full of museum visits, mass, souvenir shopping, a barro negro or black pottery workshop "tour" (the tour plan was foiled when the potter was busy filming a documentary on barro negro), and of course, food. En route home on the bus, I realized that I had yet to study for my 9AM Monday final, just in time for the sun to drop out of sight behind the mountains. The Me of 6-months ago would have spent the rest of the busride stressing over said final. The Mexico Adventure Me thought "no te preocupes", took a nap and half-heartedly studied with hot chocolate once we got back to UDLAP. And you know what, it was fine.

Crosswalks and Family Talk

In case the message has not been clear enough in previous posts, I would just like to reiterate the following point: I LOVE MY HOST FAMILY. Saturday was the 100^th anniversary of the Mexican Revolution and our coordinator arranged for us to spend it with our host families. The festivities for the Revolution anniversary didn't appear to be as extensive as those for Independence Day, but it's very possible that I just missed out. Especially considering that I slept in until nearly 11 and didn't get out of my pajamas until 12:30. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

A few of the host moms were nice enough to throw together an October Birthdays celebration on Friday night, complete with Mexican feast, 2 kinds of cake and flan, claro. I keep thinking that I will get used to this Mexican fave that looks and feels a lot like eating blubber. It hasn't happened yet. We played Mafia and PictaPhone until our full bellies hurt from laughing and the hosting host mama kicked us out for the night. PictaPhone, a hybrid of Pictionary and Telephone, is a great game that was recently hijacked by Hasbro™. I take full credit for introducing it to the NDPuebla crew and, by the associative property, for all the ridiculous jokes that have evolved as a result. GoodLord, I'm going to miss these kids. And by kids, I mean mature young adults. We never act like 6-year-olds. Nope. And I guess we'll still see each other in science classes (Sorry, Pat Beard) and things, but it just won't be quite the same. No more Facebook and Skype threads, 7-year-long busrides, or open sharing about bowel movements.

"Libbyyy, stop being nostalgic and get back to the story." Fine. On Saturday afternoon we (me + the host fam – host brother) drove to Orizaba, Veracruz which is about 2 hours away from Puebla. And yes, I still measure distances in time. I couldn't tell you how many miles it was, much less how many kilometers. My host mom grew up in Orizaba, my host dad grew up in Cordoba (about 20 minutes away) and most of their family still lives in area. Both small cities/large towns are nestled in the mountain range that creates a natural border between the states of Veracruz and Puebla. Most of the rain clouds from the Gulf get caught on said mountains, making the area a green wonderland in comparison with arid Puebla. We spent the evening in Orizaba, hanging out in Abuela's shop. My host grandma has a little shop, which seems to be more of a hobby than anything else, in which she sells women's clothing, jewelry, and random decorations. She apparently has an angel/fairy/porcelain baby fetish. I also learned some fun things about Orizaba (yes, another list).

1. The Palacio municipal is home to a mural by the world-renowned muralist Jose Clemente Orozco. He mural-ed during the same era as Diego Rivera and his works have similar socialist/communist themes. Although the mural itself was not my favorite, I could still appreciate it for the artist's historical significance. This was not the first time that I wished that I had paid more attention to the "Important Mexicans" lectures in my Spanish classes. Fun facts are so much more fun when they're relevant!

   

2. Francisco Gabilondo Solver, affectionately known as Cri Cri, was born in Orizaba. As far as I could tell, the guy was the Mexican hybrid of Raffi and Jiminy Cricket. He wrote children's songs for a popular radio program and the nickname is shared with his character, a singing cricket.
3. Unlike the majority of Mexican cities, Orizaba has traffic laws. There's only one stoplight in town and the rest of the intersections operate under a 1x1 rule. (Sound familiar Grangeville crew?) There are street signs everywhere with reminders of this rule and the peaton tiene derecho rule. Pedestrians have the right of way. Si por favor. My other favorite signage in Orizaba were the streetlight banners that said Sonríe, ¡estás en Orizaba! Smile, you're in Orizaba!

My host abuelos´ house was comfortingly familiar in a typical grandparents-have-live-here-for-years-and-years sort of way. Curiously, it smelled just like the Palmers' house. It had strange paint colors and wallpaper, reminding me of Grandma & Grandma Wassmuth's house and strange decorations than seemed to have found their way home from the shop. The highlight decoration was a 3-year-old Canadian Christmas tree that abuela has spray-painted gold to preserve it. She proudly demonstrated how it magically still maintained its needles and piney smell. You've gotta love Mexican thriftiness!

This morning we went to Corboda to brunch with the majority of my host dad's family. Between the four sisters, abuela, great aunt and other miscellaneous relatives, it was a pretty lively scene. Everyone had their important gossip to share, nieces & nephews to gently tease, and old family debates to unbury. Abuelo could barely fit a soft-spoken joke in edgewise. Can you tell that I'm feeling a little homesick for small town Idaho holidays? Cordoba is important in Mexico's history because the Mexican Declaration of Independence was signed there 200 years ago. I cannot tell you why they picked little Cordoba for that, but why not? I guess it's as good a place as any to start a new country. Again, I wish that I had put more academic effort into learning more about Mexican history.
Other highlights of the weekend included ziplining across a river canyon, (accidentally) eating brain tacos, and successfully learning a card game in Spanish. And understanding the majority of abuelo's punny jokes. I. love. Puns. And little old Mexican men. And my host family.
The End.

The Boy Who Viva-ed

The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead.

They are coming.

Reason #493 why Mexico is great: The 7th Harry Potter movie came out here 2 days before it did in the US. We relived our adolescent Potter Fever years by pre-purchasing tickets, arriving early and in costume (well, some of us). We arrived at the theater nearly an hour before The Movie was to start, tickets in hand. You'd think that this was our first day in Mexico, arriving early for an event. That's definitely what the ticket-taker was thinking when he told us to come back in 40 minutes. This was alright though because it allowed us to flex our long-repressed HP trivia muscles. Top questions included, "Who is the author of the Harry Potter series?" and "Who's that one guy with the one thing, you know who I'm talking about?" It was a good review session.

After the other kind theater patrons finally showed up, we found our seats (not too far forward, not too far back, not too close to the aisle, leave an even number of seats on the ends), and settled in to stuffing our faces with palomitas (popcorn).

Fun Random Spanish Vocabulary Lesson: palomitas means both "popcorn" and "little doves". Cute, no?
Then it began. We sat entranced, on the edge of our seats. Having just re-read the first half of the 7th book, I more or less knew what was coming and the suspense was killer. At one point, when Ron clicked his Deluminator, the screen went dark. After 5 minutes, we were pretty sure that the dark screen was not just a scene transition. We started scanning the skies for the Dark Mark. Then an eerie whistling noise began to surround us and we mentally prepared ourselves for the Avada Kedavra that was sure to follow.

Besties

Don't worry, we didn't die.

Apparently it's a Mexican thing to make a high-pitched whistling noise when buses leave late, restaurant service is slow, or the movie stops in the middle. Once the theater security guard Expelliarmus-ed all the Death Eaters who were attempting to ruin our viewing experience, we jumped right back into the world of Horcruxes and house elves. The picture was still a little jumpy throughout and the dramatic effect of the soundtrack was slightly diminished by the wavering high notes, but as one wise Puebla Boy pointed out, "It's a mooovie theater in Meeexico. What did you expect?!?!?!"

Overall, the outing was well-worth the neglected homework, late bedtime, and 8 Sickle 10 Knut admission. A similar experience without the complementary intermission would have cost at least a Galleon and a handful of Knuts in the US of A. Just sayin'.

Roadblocks and Tube Socks

Imagine that you live in a small town in Oaxaca, one of the poorest Mexican states. Your newly-elected governor has just run off with all the federal funds that were originally allocated to improve the rough 2-lane highway that runs through your one-horse (one-burro?) town. Seeing as you are poor, indigenous and living in a "free" country, you don't have a whole lot of political power, but you really want that road to be fixed. You decide that the best way to make a statement and to get the road money back is to rally the neighbors and friendly neighborhood semi drivers to stage a roadblock. Seeing as said road is the only means of transportation between the capital (also named Oaxaca) and the popular vacation destination, Puerto Escondido, this is actually a pretty good idea.
Now imagine that you are a Notre Dame student studying in Puebla. You decide to take advantage of a Monday holiday, bite the bullet, and take a 15-hour bus to Puerto Escondido. After a brief panic attack in which there appear to be ZERO seats left on any bus between Puebla and Puerto, a disaster which prompts more than a few Hail Mary's and a last minute trip to the bus station, and a chance encounter with a angel-disguised-as-a-ticket-agent, you are confident that the worst has passed; you have your bus tickets in hand. Well, most of you do.
Lesson of the day: it is, in fact, possible to board an ADO bus in Mexico without a ticket, although this is not the suggested approach.
You board the bus, well-prepared with books, snacks, water, music, Dramamine and a barf bag. Ten of the 15 hours are on serpentine mountain roads. After about 14 hours, you are roused from a restless sleep and told to get off the bus; this is the end of the line. It turns out that there's a roadblock and the bus can't go any farther. You're going to have to take a taxi to the roadblock, trek through town with your luggage and find your way to Puerto Escondido on the other side. You might make another LOOK MAMA GRINGOS scene as you tromp through town in rolled up sweatpants and tube socks. Nice work Tube Socks. But don't worry, the roadblock protest will probably be over by the time you return on Tuesday.
Ok, enough imagining. This is real.

We found the "Hidden Port". Once we got over the initial frustration of the roadblock, we found the humor in the situation and went on our merry way to the beach. Puerto Escondido is known for its beautiful beaches, relaxed atmosphere, and top-notch surfing waves. We stayed in a hotel/hostel located a block away from the beach (kudos to Amanda for organizing!) and the daily schedule went a little something like this:

1. Breakfast on the beach. The sun was blazing at full strength by about 8:30, so it was worth getting up early to take advantage of the few minutes between sunrise and furnace mode.
2. SUNSCREEN. This is an important step and not optional.
3. Play in the waves. I didn't actually try surfing, but got my fill of riding waves on a boogie board and body surfing. My sinuses definitely got cleared out and I think there's still sand in my ears from being tossed around in the ocean.
4. Nap on the beach. This really only lasts for a few minutes before you realize that you forgot to re-apply sunscreen. Hello, skin cancer!
5. Cool off in the ocean.
6. Order a drink (lemonade, of course. Don't worry Mama Redline).
7. Nap in a hammock.
8. Repeat until the sun goes down.
9. Dinner on the beach.
10. Ice cream. Of course.

This weekend wasn't terribly eventful as far as recounting an epic tale goes, but it was fantastic. The end of my time in Mexico is rushing towards me and it was nice to have a weekend without an itinerary or plan. We were able to relax and just enjoy each others' company. Although the roadblock was not, in fact, gone by Tuesday, it had mysteriously moved 15+ miles down the road and we were able to pass without too much trouble. Life lessons of the weekend include:

• Mexican street dogs, like Mexican teenagers, find no shame in making sweet, sweet love on the public beach (this is only a slight exaggeration). On a related note, you should not feed said stray dogs crackers and peanut butter unless you really want a shadow for the rest of the day that will rub it's greasy self on you and chase off would-be vendors for free.
• Don't pick the seat near a slightly obese elderly man on the 15-hour bus. He WILL snore.
• Don't expect mainstream movies on the bus. Instead, you should expect bizarre movies about Russian roulette, mountain men, Valentine's Day, old men enrolling in university literature classes, and Hannah Montana.
• Oye. Abre tus ojos. Mira hacia arriba, disfruta las cosas buenas que tiene la vida. (Translation: Listen. Open your eyes. Look up, enjoy the good things in life.) Disclaimer: This is secretly stolen from a cumbia song. But it's relevant, so I stole it.

The City of Frogs

Until fairly recently, this past weekend was the final unplanned weekend left on the schedule this semester. This was partially because we have a lot of plans for November (the agenda features Puerto Escondido, Revolution weekend, Thanksgiving/Oaxaca and Chiapas/Cancun), but also a reminder that my semester in Mexico is coming to an end. When did it get to be November?!?!!? As I lay here in my bed, wrapped in a blanket and fleece jacket and nursing a mug of tea, I should make a sidenote to comment on the unexpected turn that the weather has recently made. It turns out that it gets cold in Mexico during the fall months. Really cold. Which wouldn't be such a problem except that there's no heating system in most buildings and my room is positioned such that it has never EVER seen a direct ray of sunlight. Luckily, the sun warms everything up during the day and I have enough layers, blankets, and Sleepytime tea to stay warm at night.


Ok, off that rabbit trail and back to the main point of this: the weekend in Guanajuato. Mexicans and exchange students alike have been raving about this city for months and we finally found a weekend to go. Unfortunately, this specific weekend was also the final shebang of the annual, monthlong Cervantino festival hosted by the city in honor of Cervantes. You might be thinking, "What is a city in central Mexico doing having a festival to celebrate a 17th century Spanish author?" I will answer your question with another question, "Why not?" Although the festivities made it mucho más difícil to find a hotel and to navigate the city, it was exciting. We mysteriously managed to always be walking against the crowd and had a significantly lower piercing-and-dread per head quota than the typical MexiHipster festival attendee but enjoyed the colorful town nevertheless.
In order to save a fistful of pesos, we decided to travel early (think 4:30AM departure) Saturday morning and avoid a Friday night hotel fee. This seemed like a great idea (we´d just sleep on the bus, right?) until I ended up in the backseat over the shockless rear tires for 5 hours. I never thought that I would miss my stonetable of a mattress at UDLAP, but it turns out that even that is possible. We definitely took advantage of the whole day and hit up Guanajuato´s main attractions:

1. Don Quixote museum. If you´re going to dedicate a whole month in a Mexican city to a Spanish author, you might as well dedicate an entire art museum to said author´s fictional character.
2. Diego Rivera museum. Although I didn´t end up seeing the Diego Rivera mural in Mexico City, this was almost as good. Diego Rivera´s childhood home has been turned into a museum of some of his early works and preliminary sketches of several murals.
3. A historically important building-turned-museum that had something to do with Fr. Hildago, a massacre, and a turning point in the Mexican Revolution. By this point I was feeling that 4:30 wakeup and not really registering much information.
4. The kissing balcony, the setting of Guanajuato's version of Romeo & Juliet. Guanajuato is famous for its winding streets and complete lack of city planning, which leads to some strange intersections and narrow alleys. One such alley used to be home to a rich española on one side and a poor, indigenous man on the other. Their balconies were close enough to facilitate some shenanigans, until the tragic couple was caught in the act by Juliet´s short-tempered father, who stabbed her in the back to preserve the family´s pride. ¡Qué romantic!

This brings us to the lesson of the day. The first mini lesson was "don´t tell a caricature artist that you want to be portrayed with a weightlifter body unless you are really serious". The second was "don´t eat in a hotel restaurant called Restaurant". If they didn´t take the time to name the place, they probably also won´t take the time to fully microwave your soup or to fully cover your tostada with American cheese. Not that you wanted microwave soup or an Oscar Meyer ham & American cheese tostada in the first place. Needless to say, we did not go back for lunch today. We were all pretty exhausted by bedtime and enjoyed a relatively calm evening of Toy Story 3, PictaPhone and order-in pizza (to make up for Restaurant).
I knew Sunday would be a good day when there were Oreos on the breakfast table. Ok, so imitation Oreos, but still.* We went on a tour of La Mina de Valenciana, one of the world's most productive gold mines still in operation. At least, I'm pretty sure that's what our guide said. He was apparently on a tight schedule and talked like it was going out of style. The mine was interesting and stumbling down the narrow, uneven steps made me appreciate that I was born into modern middleclass America and not into the 16^th century Mexican semi-slavery. After emerging from the mine shaft, blinking in the brilliant sunlight, we hit up the obligatory souvenir area before heading off to our final attraction.

The Mummy Museum.

This museum's name is a bit misleading because, as the tour guide pointed out, mummies are purposely embalmed and preserved bodies. The specimens in this museum were buried in regular old coffins in the Guanajuato cemetery but the hot, dry climate preserved them. Upon running out of space in the cemetery, city officials began exhuming bodies to make room and discovered that the bodies were almost perfectly preserved. The logical next step was to put them in a museum: typical Mexican ingenuity. As far as I gathered, they have been gradually adding bodies to the collection over the years and at one point had to start over because the first batch wasn't encased to protect against temperature, humidity or visitors' oily hands. Again, I can only answer your "Why would you touch a 200-year-old body?" question with another question, "Why not?" Highlights of the mummy cast included a morbidly obese woman, a HUGE man who must have been the tallest, strongest guy in the whole pueblo, a newborn baby, and a woman who was accidentally buried alive. It was interesting to see how perfectly the skin, hair and clothing of the mummies were preserved, but my stomach was definitely starting to turn by the end of the tour. Also, it's a good thing I don't believe in zombies or this museum would have scared me to death (ha. Mummy pun.)
*If you have not figured out by now that my mood improves directly with quality food, you haven't been paying attention.

N200

This weekend was a bit of a fail for the Get Out Of Puebla campaign, which was a mixed blessing. On Saturday I took the bus into Puebla with my favorite bearded Puebla-ND friend to check out the Saturday markets and the preparations for Día de los Muertos. I think I already talked about this celebration a little bit, I can´t really remember so I apologize for any repetition. In a quick summary that doesn´t do the tradition justice, Día de los Muertos is an opportunity to celebrate the memory of deceased relatives, friends and heroes with ofrenda altars. Popular offerings include fruit, alcoholic beverages, religious images, and of course, marigolds. Apparently marigolds are the flower of choice because A) they are in bloom right now (Mexicans are so practical sometimes!) and B) the yellow color is supposed to attract the souls of the dead. I think. In a spur of the moment decision, five of us decided to cram into a taxi and visit Huaquechula, a small town outside of Puebla that is famous for its intricate and numerous ofrendas.

Although we arrived just as the crowds were leaving and the ofrenda-ers were closing up shop, we were still able to visit a few. One woman offered to send her daughter with us as a tour guide and she took us through the town. It´s tradition that the family who arranged the ofrenda provides food and drink for the visitors, a fact we should have taken into account before eating dinner. It´s rude to not accept offered food so we were stuffed to the brim with chocolate, horchata, and tamales by the time we crammed back into the taxi. I didn´t do as much studying last night as planned and it was a little uncomfortable making a LOOKAGRINGO scene every time we arrived at an ofrenda, but I´m glad that I decided to go. It was a very different experience than the typical stroll through Puebla's zócalo and was definitely worth the long taxi ride.
The other aspect of this mixed blessing was that I spent a lot of time in my room. On a normal travel weekend, I would leave on Friday afternoon or early Saturday morning and not return until Sunday night and I am always busy during the week so this weekend was an anomaly in this respect. Spending all of this time in my room led to the formation of the following list:
REASONS WHY ALL Y'ALL SHOULD BE JEALOUS OF MY SUITEMATES

1. They are obviously used to taking care of themselves, cooking logical meals at reasonable hours, and cleaning up nicely afterwards.
• There are never mysterious dishes left on the table for days.
• There are never large chunks of unidentifiable food in the sink.
• This never causes the kitchen sink to plug and refuse to drain.
• The leftovers of these logical meals are always promptly stored within the week, never allowing for more than a slight covering of mold to develop.

1. No one ever "does their business" in the toilet that can only handle liquids.
• Because of this, we never have to share one toilet between seven girls.
• Also because of this, the bathroom never smells like open sewage is in the other stall.
• In the unlikely event that the LIQUIDS ONLY toilet is plugged, the RA will probably not blame the non-Mexican residents for flushing toilet paper.
• No one writes anonymous rude notes about proper bathroom etiquette.
2. The television is never left on loud, senseless channels for hours on end. (Clarification: truly senseless, not just because it´s in Spanish) In fact, no one ever watches television.
3. Quiet hours are carefully observed.
• Running, screaming, door slamming, and Reptar interpretations are rare events, but are especially avoided after bedtime.
• These are the quietest, most well-spoken roommates imaginable. I have not learned any swear words from them. Not. One.
4. My roomie listens to very normal music, ¡gracias a Dios! It would be creepy if she listened to Bjork´s Halloween Album or watched a serial killer series religiously.
5. Makeup, hair dye, fake nails, trash and long dark hair are never strewn about the living room.

Now, let´s discuss how the Pope is Protestant…