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.