Feliz Navidad, Prospero Año y Feliz Edad

"Today does not feel like Christmas. We didn't decorate the tree, we didn't shovel the driveway, and we didn't have sausage soufflé for breakfast. No, the Grinch didn't give us a late night visit. We're just in Mexico."
I wrote this snarky beginning of a blog on Christmas Evening, but I didn't mean it, promise. Although RedlineFam Christmas 2010 was not its usual self, this did not mean that it was not excellent. We were up with the sun on Christmas Eve to head towards Orizaba, Veracruz, Mexico with my host family. My host mom's parents live in Orizaba, where she grew up, and my host dad's parents and siblings live in Córdoba, the next town down the toll way. They graciously invited us to spend the holidays with them, an option which turned out to be infinitely better than spending it in a sterile hotel room. After a tour of Orizaba, a second breakfast at a street taco stand, a brief hike, and a nap, we headed off to our first dinner with the warning that this was "just a snack."
The Córdoba grandparents had other ideas, however. The table was covered with pastas, chicken, potatoes, beef, vegetable dishes, salads, bread, refried beans, and of course, tortillas. Mexican grandmothers are the best Food Pushers there ever were and we ended up eating a meal-sized snack. Oy vey. Although the room was a bit tense and quiet when we first arrived, we soon fell comfortably into a broken Spanglish conversation which leaned (this sounds incorrect…) towards Spanish más translation. Although I've previously spent whole weekends speaking Spanish followed by English-heavy weeks with the ND crew, I've never done so much rapid language switching. This previous sentence probably gives you a pretty good idea of how strugglesome my English has been this week. I had to ask my mom for multiple basic words, such as tusks, unload, and orchid. As Charlie said, "she doesn't speak well English." Despite the language barrier, we managed to have a great time. I braided abuela's hair because her ponytail was causing a headache, sampled some of abuelo's fancy tequila, and secretly made jokes about my family with my host family. After exchanging hugs, Feliz Navidad's and some small presents, we moved on to the next set of grandparents.

This is where the real dinner began. The menu included hammed (there's a Spanish word for this, maybe not English though) turkey, cheesy potatoes, quiche, pasta, fruit salad, spinach salad, chicken, fish, and deviled eggs. Not to mention the dessert table. Mama Olivia and Mama Redline spent a good half-an-hour circling the table and sharing food vocabulary. Considering that neither speaks the other's language, it took some very patient, open-mindedness. ¿Qué preciosa, no? While post-dinner chatting with some host cousins, I had a realization. I am comfortable in Mexico. Six months ago, I would have been sitting with my family, afraid to speak Spanish or sit with people I didn't know well. Now, I don't flinch at rattling off imperfect Spanish to a stranger or sitting down to platicar with someone I just met. I am no longer afraid of conversation. This seems silly, but I honestly used to avoid talking with people I didn't know well enough. This included vague elementary school acquaintances, friends of friends, and customer service employees at Target. No más.
This newfound confidence is exaggerated by my family's newness to the whole Mexico thing. I didn't realize until now just how much I've learned over the semester; everything from how much a bus costs to safe drinking water etiquette to the difference between ahora and ahorita. My classes were not what I would describe as rigorous, but that doesn't mean that I wasn't learning. As my mom pointed out after reading my previous post, I under exaggerated the depth of their culture shock. We're talking post traumatic syndromes here. (Was that off-color?) The foreign language and the traffic and the crowds and the smells and the constant noise were enough to drive any Idahoan-grown gringo to tears. Or in Sam and Jackson's cases, the barfs and the shits, respectively. While I feel bad for the pobrecitos, it really wouldn't be a Mexican adventure without someone yacking into a trashcan because the toilet is occupied. This might make me a hard-hearted, horrible hermana (couldn't resist the bilingual alliteration there). On the bright side, having 2 sickies back at the hotel has really cut back on metro, bus and entrance fees.
Anyways, here's a brief summary of our whirlwind adventure through central Mexico:
Day 1: Pickup from bus stop. Nap. Nap. Nap. Brief wanderings through the Puebla centro. Definitely not up for the rough crowd at the lucha libre arena.
Day 2: Africam Safari with Mama Olivia/animal vocabulary review.

Day 3: SUBIMOS. Climb Tepoztlan. Dad probably insults David with his backseat driver inclinations, exclamations, and under-the-breath comments. Sorry David! You're still our favorite driver (although I can't speak for Malia)!
Day 4: What up Cholula! Successful navigation of the bus system, more subiring, a leisurely stroll through the zócalo, and dragging the boys through a healthy amount of Cholula's 365 churches, followed by a Tour Guide Libby tour of the UDLAP campus and a visit to La Suprema Salsa, my 2^nd favorite taco haunt on Camino Real. We didn't go to Tacos Israel because it was closed, not actually out of regard for my family's delicate constitutions. By this time the fam was feeling a little braver and we ended the day with another visit to the Puebla centro, this time in tourist and not survival mode.

Day 5: Christmas Eve (see above)
Day 6: Christmas Day and return to Puebla
Day 7: morning adventure into Puebla in search of a mass and some souvenirs. Double success. Afternoon bus to DF after a quick visit to the fayuca, or black market. Scariest taxi ride of Dad's life from the DF bus station to our lovely hotel near the zócalo. It's a good thing we eased into the Great Mexican Adventure by starting in Puebla because I think someone's head would have exploded if thrown straight into the streets of DF.

Day 8: This is where the itineraries split. Shortly after Sam ate "the best hamburger of his entire life," it made a second appearance. Charlie and Sam stayed home to closely supervise the television while the rest of us explored the subway system, joined the throngs at the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and strolled down Paseo de la Reforma, the "most beautiful street in all of Latin America".

Day 9: Jackson got jealous of all of Sam's special attention and developed an ailment of his own. Similar problem, other end. Luckily our fayuca visit had left us with plenty of movies that needed to be "tested" and Jackson & Sam were more than willing to help out. Under skeptical looks and WikiTravel instructions, I led the rest of the troops on a "we'll just wing it" adventure to the Teotihuacán archeological site. Yep, you guessed it. Subimos. Unlike my last visit to the pyramids, today was crowded, sunny and FREE! My secretly expired UDLAP student ID has gotten me into everything for free. Gracias UDLAP.
Day 10 (this part of the itinerary is requiring some psychic powers): We'll hopefully have time to hit up the Diego Rivera murals in the Palacio Nacional before loading into a taxi and heading to the airport. Due to Notre Dame booking and rescheduling my return flight, I am on a separate airline in a separate terminal from my family. But I think I'll be fine. I have 4 chick flicks, 2 best-sellers, some snacks, and, when I reached Salt Lake, a cell phone to keep myself occupied. It's going to be so strange to use a regular phone again. I'm dreading the time sucker that I know my cell phone will return to be, but this dread is overshadowed by my excitement to be connected again. As Eminem says, back to reality. Knock on wood, fingers crossed, 11:11 wish all will go smoothly, Salt Lake will not be snowed in, and I will be sleeping in my warm bed in my cold basement within 24 hours.
So if you have a minute, say a little prayer for the Redline Fam's international travels tomorrow and we'll try to send a little Mexican sunshine in your direction!

¡Bienvenidos Familia!

 The much-awaited day is finally here. The Redline Fam has fled the country, under cover of darkness, and is in MéxicoMéxico (as compared to CancúnMéxico). As you can see, they are thrilled to be here.

But really. This is so exciting. Despite the fact that this is my 5^th semester away from home, I still haven't gotten used to that adrenaline rush of seeing my family waiting in a terminal. I always think that I'll maintain my composure, walk calmly towards them, and not make a scene. I always end up skittering across some slippery tile floor and crash into the nearest family member, my coordination completely lost in the flood of emotion and joy.

After recovering a bit from their long journey and dumping the luggage at the hotel (which happens to be right on the bus route to our favorite Wal*Mart and favorite hospital. Win.), I shuffled my poor bewildered family off to my host family's house, where breakfast awaited them. We had a surprisingly successful conversation featuring Mama Olivia's limited English, Mama Redline's limited Spanish, Charlie's complete lack of language skills (don't worry, he has been officially dubbed Carlos), and Sam's Latin contributions. Who knew that the Spain-Spanish word for swimming pool comes from the Latin for pond? Sam did. Despite huge plans to wander through Puebla and take in a night of lucha libre, the travel-weary Redlines had other ideas. Between Dad's stomach ache + chills and everyone else's 3 hour nap, we didn't roll out of the hotel until the sun was gettin' low. Not unlike Flo Rida.

The Redline Fam should get Purple Hearts for Bravery because they followed me all around Puebla, rarely doubting my navigation. Even after I admitted that I wasn't really sure which bus we should take home, took them to a sketchy market to score some cemitas, and marched them right past some riot police. After 5 months in Mexico, this all seemed pretty cotidiana to me. Not until we got back to the hotel and I saw their shocked faces did I realize that this was quite the immersion experience. Over super cemitas we replayed the events of the last few hours and I joined in their wonder over the friendliness of Pueblans, the strange contents and arrangements of mini-shops, and the whole pig's head that we saw in the market.

It's a completely mind-boggling experience to share this city that I've come to consider as a home-away-from-home with new guests. Not only have they never been here, but they don't speak the language. The bossy big sister in me is loving every minute of it. The exhausted traveler in me keeps looking to my parents to make decisions, only to find them looking back at me expectantly. The itty bit of mexicana in me never wants to leave.

And the homesick little girl in me is subconsciously counting down the days until I can open that front door, drop my bags, and breathe in the scent of home.

The Beginning of the End

I'm not sure whether it was the chest-rattling cough, the sweats, the chills, the headache or the nausea that woke me up. Regardless, I was awake on a bus at 5AM, trying not to throw up every time I coughed, wishing I could just die and get it over with. This was NOT how I had planned to begin my relaxing week in Playa del Carmen. Fever and the Black Lung are not conducive to sunbathing and snorkeling. The bus seemed to move in slow motion, as did the taxi to the hotel and the hotel employee who checked us in. All I wanted was a bed, a blanket (or maybe an ice pack- it changed every 5 minutes with my fever), and to stop. traveling. Luckily, this was the low point of the week and it just got better from here. Which is good, because the only way it could have gotten worse is if I had actually coughed up a lung or thrown up on my bus buddy. Luckily, I was traveling with 14 pre-med students and I was offered ample advice, sympathy, and access to everyone's personal mobile pharmacies.

Due to some divine intervention and a saintly mother, we spent the last week in the nicest hotel I have ever seen, much less slept in. The Maya Palace Riviera was just that: a palace. It took us a few days to adjust to the Americanized Cancun area. The only Mexicans to be seen were hotel employees, everyone spoke English (yes, the taxi driver can understand you when you are doubting his navigation in the backseat…whoops), and everything was expensive/listed in USD. It was a marvelous opportunity to sit back and relax by the largest pool in Mexico and a gradual transition back into American culture, but I found myself missing the "real Mexico". We knew that we had definitely left Mexican Mexico when the bus driver told us that the bus was full and no, we could not stand in the aisle. Whaaaaa?!?!?! Since when can you not stuff a Mexican bus with twice as many passengers as its design intended? Nevertheless, we continued to go about our business, speaking Spanish to the hotel employees and chuckling when they threw out a no mames güey or pinche _____, crude phrases that most guests didn't notice. My family might disagree in favor of beachtime, but I'm glad that they are going to see the "real Mexico", eat real Mexican food, and be fully immersed in the language. Even if they don't like chile and don't habla español. Don't get me wrong, the Mayan Riviera is gorgeous and sunny and vacation-y. But it's not Mexico.

After laying low for a few days to nurse myself back to health, I was ready to leave the hotel complex. I had opted out of an earlier trip to Chichen Itza, a choice that I might regret later in life (it is one of the 7 Wonders of the World, afterall), but like I said before, I am all pyramided out. On our second to last full day in Playa del Carmen, we hired a driver to take us to the ruins of Tulum. Yes, this meant more pyramids, but these were beachside pyramids. Like I said, the Mayans were all about location.
These were by far the touristiest (I wanted to say most touristy here, but Word SpellCheck suggested touristiest. Definitely not a real word, Word…) ruins we had visited, but it was also the best maintained site we had visited. The pyramid sits on a cliff overlooking the aqua blue ocean and the surrounding jungle is slowly creeping around the ancient stones in a valiant attempt to reclaim the site. After getting our daily dose of pyramids, we continued on to Paamul, a little paradise hidden between Playa del Carmen and Tulum. We rented snorkel gear from an American-turned-Mexican couple and flippered into the ocean. I have this thing where water makes me feel very squished and claustrophobic and I never quite grasped the idea of face-in swimming, so I was nervous about this whole snorkeling thing. Not to mention the fact that my sinuses were filled to capacity and I was still coughing like I had been smoking 6 packs a day for my whole life. Once I got over the weird feeling of breathing through a tube and stopped hyperventilating, I had a great time. Paamul is not home to the world's most breathtaking reefs, but that was alright with me. I was having enough breathing struggs without having my breath taken away. It was surprisingly easy to just float along over the reef, giving a few kicks once in a while to avoid a sea fan or a coral outcropping. We spent a relaxing afternoon spotting tropical fish, laying on the beach, and playing follow-the-leader through the reef.

This seems like enough adventure for the day, but it was only half over. We returned to the hotel just in time to form TeamPuebla for beach volleyball and spent the next hour and a half throwing ourselves around the beach, laughing, and occasionally making contact with the volleyball. Despite our obvious lack of serious dedication or team cohesion, we managed to be Queens of the Court for quite a while. Even if we hadn't won however, I had a great time and left the court with a laughter-induced belly ache, a swimsuit full of sand, and a big smile. We rushed through the showers and donned our favorite red, green and white clothing in preparation for a Mexican Christmas party. We had gone shopping the day before for hot chocolate, apple cider, cookies, and decorations in preparation for one last Shabang before heading back to the wintry tundra. Over steaming mugs of hot cocoa and Bailey's (early Christmas splurge) we revealed our Secret Santas and put on a mini talent show. The youth group classic "Christmas Carol Trivia" game was a huge hit and inspired an impromptu caroling outing to spread a bit of Christmas cheer throughout the hotel. Although we were all missing our families, garland-decked homes and snowboots, it was a great way to end our semester together.

On Friday morning we did some last minute packing, turned in our keys, and had a rushed goodbye group hug before everyone headed their different directions. Some members of the group headed towards Cancún for a few days, others prepared their passports for US customs, and I got on a plane towards Puebla, by way of Mexico City. Sitting in the airport, I suddenly felt completely alone. I had spent every single hour of the last 2 weeks in close contact with the same 16 people and they were suddenly gone. I didn't realize until that moment just how much they had defined my semester here in Mexico and how much I was going to miss them. Sure, we'll see each other back at ND but everyone will have own friends, do their own thing on the weekends, and probably not share frequent updates on the state of their digestive tract.
Malia, Erica, Marisa, Alexxis, Kelsey, Regan, Amanda, Shelly, Patrick, Mitch, Pat, Stella, Maggie, Cara, Andy and John: Thank you for an unforgettable semester. ¡Nos vemos pronto!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes and Chiapas

Disclaimer: The following entry should be considered a brief summary with generous omissions and forgotten pieces. Unfortunately, there's a lot to share and NOT MUCH TIME.

I've decided that the best way to sum up the last week is to tell it in superhero comic book style.

Our hero's (this is my blog so, yes, I can make myself the hero) adventure begins at the Puebla bus station, surrounded by her comrades, the last Pueblans she would see in a while, and some suitcases. The reader should see some and read monstrous pile. It turns out that the "we'll just bring our semester's worth of luggage on a crosscountry adventure" was much easier said than done. But that is said and done. Once the said luggage was safely stashed in the underbelly of the bus, it was time to go to Chiapas. SHAZAM!!

We woke up the next morning as the bus pulled into the station in San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas. This superhero story is now going to take a brief intermission in favor of some background & history.
Chiapas is the southernmost state of Mexico that shares the border with Guatemala. The state is important because of its various products: coffee, hydroelectric power, and Zapatistas. The Zapatista movement is based on the original Revolution movement led by Emilio Zapata, who demanded political and land rights for indigenous groups. While it was not originally a violent movement, the conflict between the Mexican government and the Zapatistas has led to some (see definition above) tension in the area. To protect their identity, Zapatista rebels often wear black ski masks, ninja style. Ever resourceful, local vendors have taken advantage of this imagine and sell dolls, keychains, earrings, and postcards portraying Zapatistas.

BAM! Back to the batcave. We soon got on another bus and faster than a speeding bullet, headed towards Sumidero Canyon. We hired a great guide to take us on a boat tour through the national park, where we saw iguanas, turtles and cormorants. We were pretty thrilled with this in and of itself. Then the guide said, "Mira, un cocodrilo! Ya lo vieron?" WOWZA! Our heroes came face-to-face (well not quite) with a hugeass crocodile just chillin' on the beach. As if this wasn't exciting enough, the boat guide knew about our favorite Tule Tree guide! Small world? After narrowly avoiding a crocodile-induced death and fighting off a couple of bad guys (not really), we dashed back to San Cristobal to browse the markets and make plans for the next day.

If I had to choose one sound effect to describe the next day it would be clipclop clipclop. Yep, you guessed it: horseback riding. I have never ridden a horse for so long and my sitbones have never been so sore. Under the skeptical guidance of a local horseman we rode through backroads and forest trails to the small town of San Juan Chamula. We left our loyal steeds to enjoy a break in the shade while we wandered through the local market, ate some mandarin oranges, and took in the pueblo. Then WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP we trotted back to the homestead. I patted Flash, my newest equine friend good-bye and hopped on yet another bus, back to San Cristobal, the luggage, and the prospect of yet another long busride. Next stop: Palenque.

I cannot say that Palenque, Chiapas is on my list of favorite cities in Mexico. Although it is surrounded by beautiful forested mountains and is home to some of Mexico's most breath-taking Mayan ruins, it is not a pretty place. The town is dramatically divided between the fake-jungle hotel district and the slightly sketchy main part of town. Luckily, we had enough on the agenda to avoid spending much time in this less-than-lovely town. We were finally able to cross a very important and long-awaited item off the community To Do in Mexico list while in Palenque: WATERFALLS. The Agua Azul and Misol Ha cascadas had been sneaking into conversations, guidebook articles and travel suggestions all semester. After visiting, I can see why these waterfalls are the talk of the town. Not only were the waterfalls beautiful and refreshing, but the drive through the jungly mountains offered ample scenery and TeamPuebla bonding time.

No day is perfect, however, and we ended ours with a visit to Mexico's 2^nd worst restaurant (we had already found the worst one, it's in Guanajuato). KATHOOM Palenque:1 TeamPuebla:0… We'll just say that we made a Dinner Round Two trip to the grocery store to make up for the disappointing chicken salad and stale bread. To be fair, we should have known to call it quits when there weren't any other customers, the kitchen was nowhere to be found and there appeared to be 2 employees in the whole joint. Ah well, you win some, you lose some.




The next morning, after a slow start, we reluctantly hopped on a bus towards the Palenque ruins. By this time, we were more than a little travel weary and not terribly enthusiastic about seeing yet another pyramid. Nevertheless, we felt obligated to go and I'm glad that we gave into our tourists' guilt because these ruins turned out to be my favorite in Mexico. Nestled in the rain forest, the Palenque complex looks like the set of an Indiana Jones movie and the view from the top of the pyramid is stunning.
After subir-ing this Mayan marvel and purchasing our obligatory Mayan calendar souvenirs, we headed back to the hotel to prepare for our last epic Mexican busride of the semester: next stop, Playa del Carmen. KATHOOOOM! But that's another story.

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'.