anika in mexico

I got up early to be ready to go to the market. Jenny picked me up on time, and we headed into the heart of Mexico City. The market is near the Zona Rosa, and Jenny still goes once every two weeks. The prices are great, but also there’s a sentimental reason. It’s the same market that her mother went to, and also that her grandmother went to, so Jenny is doing her part to keep up the tradition. She still goes to the same stands that her family has bought their produce from for years and years.

Back in the day, the market was outdoors, like most typical Mexican markets. At some point in the history, the government built big warehouses to hold the market, and assigned specific areas to each little stand, so they could have a more permanent place to sell from. When this happened, the stands visited by the family were stationed in different buildings, and so every other Thursday, Jenny has to go to one big warehouse and then go to the next big warehouse a few blocks away in order to get everything that she needs.

We parked the van in a crowded little Estacionamiento and headed to the government supermarket that is nearby the produce markets. Jenny needed a few staple items, and she said she goes to this supermarket when she can because they have a great variety and really good prices. Variety indeed. It was huge. I’d say the building was bigger than a Costco or a Sam’s Club, but it wasn’t a wholesale place. Just a supermarket with TONS of stuff. There was an entire area filled with cleaning products–detergents, disinfectants, polishes, bleach, you name it. They had stacks and stacks of the stuff. You’d think Mexico would be a cleaner place! There was an entire aisle for sugar. One corner of the store was dedicated to cheese, milk and other dairy. There of course was the candy aisle, and the cereal aisle, and the pasta aisle, and the liquor aisle, and the toilet paper aisle, and the housewares aisle. I really think they had everything you might possibly need. Jenny only selected a few choice items, and then we headed out to the real market.

We made our way to the first actual market building, and wiggled our way around fruit and vegetable stands until we got to our specific fruit and vegetable stand. We were greeted by the sons and grandsons of the original stand owners, and Jenny started buying. She’d make a little note in a notebook about the quantities and prices for everything. When she’d bought everything, she added up the prices and payed the total amount. We bought potatoes, onions, nopales (cactus leaves), chiles and some tangerines (which were totally green on the outside, but a nice orange color on the inside, and they let me try one and it was so sweet and good).

While Jenny was working out the details of everything she wanted, I walked around the market a bit. There were lots of fruit stands, and a few meat vendors. There were also tons of little stands where one could stop and have a taco, a bowl of soup, or some cut fruit with lime and chile. These little restaurant stands are a new phenomenon. Jenny said the market used to only be fruits, vegetables, meats, seafood, and spices, but in recent years the little restaurants set up because it’s more and more common for people to stay out all day working. Since they don’t go home, they need someplace to eat, so the restaurant stands do very well.

We wiggled through some other aisles when we were finished at the first stand, and arrived at the next which is the place to buy fruit. Here Jenny selected papaya, grapes, pears, a couple of mangos, a pineapple, apples, tuna (cactus fruit) and some bananas. Sergio is the guy who ran the stand and is the grandson of the original owner. The son of the original owner didn’t like working in the market at all, and kept Sergio and his siblings away from the market, thinking it an awful place to make a child hang out. Sergio’s father was never very friendly, but my family remained loyal and always bought from him. Sergio actually likes the market, and likes his job, so he’s always a friendly nice guy to buy fruit from.

Fruit purchases completed, we took our first bags of loot back to the car and headed right over to the second market. Jenny has lots to do, and she walks very fast. Faster than I’d walk naturally, plus she has a broken toe! I did my best to keep up with her, and we were at the next market which was several blocks away in just a few minutes. As we approached the building, we passed a woman selling chile salsa in little plastic cups that were sealed with some plastic wrap and a rubber band. She was also selling wriggling worms/maggots that were bright magenta. Jenny said that they are considered a delicacy, but she’s never eaten them, and never plans to. I told her that sounded like a good plan. We walked just a bit further, and I looked over to my left and exclaimed, “ah! more bugs!” but really it was just someone making hibiscus tea, and straining the blossoms, which oddly resembled the wriggling maggots of the same color. I laughed at my mistake as we turned right into the market.

I was greeted with a very different scene than the last market offered. I didn’t see any brightly colored fruit and vegetable stands, but instead my eye rested on pale dead chickens. Their necks hung limply over the edges of counters, their heads dangled lifelessly. I was fascinated. Fascinated, and a bit horrified at first. But in a way, it’s honest. Chicken comes from real live chickens. Pork was once an actual pig that probably rolled in the mud with all his pig friends. Goat meat comes from real live, furry goats with heads and hooves and big glassy eyes. If you see the pig that your pork tenderloin comes from, I think you’re more connected to it somehow. You’re not removed from the actual source of your food. It’s not pre-packaged, pre-seasoned chicken breast that resembles a coaster more than it does a bird. It’s not vacuum sealed in bright colored plastic with the words “low fat” or “lean” plastered over it, ensuring that you won’t get any chicken juice anywhere, like *shock* on your fingers.

Jenny walked around quickly and placed orders with various meat, seafood, and cheese stands. She could then walk back around and pick up her orders and they’d be ready for her. After placing orders we went to another vegetable stand where she had a lot to buy. Again, I went and walked around the market. I walked around the fruit and veggie stands first. They had a much better variety than the first market. They even had persimmons and figs! The people were very different here too. They were much more aggressive with their sales tactic. They’d call out as I passed, “Senorita, que quieres??” They’d offer samples of whatever I wanted to try. I would just smile pleasantly, say, “no, gracias,” and walk by, but they’d continue to call, “no quieres comprar algo?” and I’d just shake my head and keep walking.

I eventually walked over to the meat section to take a closer look. On the counters I saw whole pigs, whole chickens, whole turkeys, whole fish, whole rabbits, you name it. They were all piled or dangling there, quite dead. I saw a butcher skinning a goat. I didn’t linger in that section, but it was interesting to see.

I met up with Jenny, and we made our way out, and went over to a small store that sold only spices. I was delighted when I spied powdered anis in one of the jars. Jenny was doubtful, but I was sure Sigrid needed it for one of the new recipes she was trying. We bought 100g of it, and I couldn’t wait to tell her that I’d found it!

We then walked back to the car, all of the errands for that area accomplished.

Next we headed for the area known as Tacubaya which is kind of between where I live in Lomas and where I went to school for Spanish. We headed down a side street and went to buy some fresh masa for making tortillas. The machine that they use to grind/make the masa was turned off, but the guy who ran the store was very obliging and turned it on so I could see how it worked. I even got to climb the steps to see the hopper where the corn was stored and mixed slowly with water as it was ground up. The masa was quite hot when it came out, but it didn’t seem to bother the shop keeper who grabbed it with his bare hands to form big balls of it that he would bag and sell. The first batch was apparently not the right consistency, so he set it aside, adjusted the flow of water that was mixing with the corn, and when he was satisfied, he put some in a bag for us to take.

We passed a stand where they actually make tortillas with another machine that’s like a conveyor belt, but the lady wasn’t so friendly and wouldn’t turn it on for us, saying that she’d finished for the day.

We hopped back in the car and Jenny dropped me off with about half of everything she bought.

That was enough activity for the day, and I was definitely tired. I made myself a sandwich for lunch, and just rested for the rest of the afternoon. I’d seen so much!

Today was the day of parties. It’s the eve of the Mexican Independence day, so everyone gets into a festive mood.

Before party time (2pm) I spent the early afternoon finishing up a pattern, and was ready just at 2pm, but of course everyone else was late. But soon people were arriving. I met my grandmother’s brother, his wife, all his children, and their children! He’s really great too, and he looks so much like my grandmother, it’s funny. I was really blown away by how easy going and friendly everyone is. Each of the kids, Gerardo, Walter, and Ani, all invited me to meet up with them again.

Walter is trained as an industrial designer, and now has a photo studio. I showed him the stuff I’ve been working on (at Karin’s prompting), and he and his wife were both very interested in what tools I used to make the patterns. I showed them the markers I use, and they were impressed. They’ve invited me to visit to check out their studio and also see their work (his wife, Angeles, is also an artist who does a lot of photo collage).

Ani invited me to come visit her in Toluca, and Gerardo also invited me to their house at somepoint.

After the delicious lunch of Mole de Ollo (a tasty soup with lots of stuff in it), we all played some card games which was great fun. We played “Cucharas” which is a great game for a large group of people. You constantly pass one card to your right and the goal is to get 4 of a kind. If and when you do, you have to discreetly take one of the spoons (there is one less spoon than there are people). If you notice that someone has taken a spoon, you also take one, and the one left without a spoon has to sing a song. It was really hilarious. Especially because I discovered that I know the german song “O Tannenbaum!” and the Mexican song, “La Cucuracha” better than my own National Anthem. Ah well.

Overall I also enjoyed the party because I spoke only in Spanish, and was able to understand and be understood very well.

Everyone left by 8pm, but that was by no means the end of the night for me. I had to run to the Supermarket and get “botanas” which is basically appetizers/snacks for the party at Fernandos. Saskia agreed to pick me up at 9pm, so I didn’t have too much time to get ready. But I painted my eyes with bright green eyeshadow, donned my brightest red t-shirt, wore my white pants, my dingy green camo tennis shoes, and of course red lipstick. Red Green and White in honor of the Mexican Independence Day.

I arrived and Carlos was going to make me a Paloma which is basically a tequila with Squirt, but then Pancho insisted, no, I’d be better off just having a straight tequila, with a lime on the side. So that’s what I drank. And then I had another, and a little while later another. Then everyone had a shot together, and then Siggy wanted to a shot with me “al fondo” or “to the floor/bottom”–theoretically of the glass, but it almost had the more literal effect on me because after that, then I was drunk.

I had a lot of fun though. I danced a lot with Santiago, learned a little Russian from Fernando’s dad (he actually told me you could make any word Russian by adding “uski” or “iski” or “aski” to the end of it. I was speaking perfect Russian within 10 minutes), who also assembled a tostada especially for me, played with Fernando’s dog Rex, laughed a lot, took a lot of silly pictures, ate a lot of cheese and Rancherito chips, passed out on the couch for a bit, and then woke back up to chat with Pancho, Chucho and the German girls.

Chucho drove me and the Germans home and I got to bed by 4:30am.

Class was agonizing today. I didn’t want to do anything. Didn’t want to learn, didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to listen, didn’t wanted to check homework. Nothing. Se la vie. It was over soon enough I suppose, then I went over to Starbucks and checked email and so forth.

I had lunch with Sigrid and Siggy which was nice.

After lunch I worked on some patterns and eventually Siggy told me that her mom would pick me up to go to a the concert. I didn’t have an idea about when, so I just kept on working on my pattern, assuming I’d find out one way or another. Eventually Karin came in and asked, “shall we go?” I got ready in less than 10 minutes, but still looked rather sharp.

We met up with Pancho and Carlos, and we all went to a concert of Mexican music played by the Philharmonic Orchestra of the UNAM. It was really amazing. The concert hall itself was incredible. It was designed specifically and only for music performances. No dance, no theatre, just music. The acoustics were near perfect, and it was beautiful to boot.

For the concert itself, there was a guest pianist who was as mesmerizing to watch as to listen to. The audience kept on with the applause and he completed no less than 3 encores.

The second part of the concert was dedicated to contemporary Mexican composers. All 3 composers were present, and I particularly enjoyed the first and last of the three songs. The first was called “Pacifico” and it really captured perfectly the essence of the Pacific Ocean in music form. It was enchanting. The last was a fun Dance song with a lively beat that was just fun to listen to. Of course at the end of the concert, there was yet more standing applause, and at least 2 more encores. It was a long night of great music.

Afterwards we all headed over to a place that makes churros right near the restaurant where I had the crepas with Sigrid for lunch just the day before. This place wasn’t nearly as classy, and service wasn’t that great, but the churros were crispy and sweet, and the hot cocoa was good. I particularly liked dipping the churros into the hot chocolate as is customary. Afterwards we headed back home, and I was asleep a bit after midnight.

I woke up suddenly for no particular reason very early. The curtains were open, so the first rays of sunlight were gently illuminating the room. I was about to roll back over to go to sleep, but I was curious about the time. I don’t remember what the clock said, because as I turned to look at the time, my attention was caught by the sunrise. It was already spectacular, even though it was just starting. I struggled for a second: go back to sleep, or stay up and watch the sunrise. I opted for the second option, and, although sleepy, I watched the sky get brighter and brighter, the clouds get more and more vivid. It was really incredible. The view from my window was already really awesome–over looking a ravine with guayaba (guava) orchards in the distance. With the amazing sunrise, it was truly a captivating sight.

Once the sky became typically blue and the clouds typically white, I indulged my sleepiness and went back to sleep for a little bit.

I woke again to sounds coming from the kitchen. Teocrito was frying plantains! He and I had some instant coffee and a lot of the plantains with sour cream. It was a great breakfast. Little did I know at the time, it was only the first breakfast of the day.

Karin stayed in bed for a long time. When she got up we started making breakfast #2.

This was really interesting because we made eggs on a plantain leaf. Karin hadn’t ever done it before, so she put too many egs on the first leaf. Teo looked at the 3 eggs that were struggling for space on their green bed, and exclaimed, “it’s just supposed to be one egg per leaf!” Those first three didn’t turn out so great, but Teocrito ate them anyway. The first batch looked a little undercooked for my taste, so the next batch I made scrambled. I think they turned out a lot better, and my were they tasty. The banana leaf really added a different flavor. I ate it with one of the typical rolls that they use here often for tortas. I also had a tuna (cactus fruit, not the fish), and a bit more coffee.

After breakfast Karin and I took a long walk all around the rancho. We walked through lots of mud. We meandered through the guava orchard and made our way to one of their bordos. There was only a small ascent to get to the bordo, but when I turned around, the view was amazing. You could see their orchard, the field where they used to grow tomatoes, and still grow some raspberries and flowers, the house, other ranchos in the distance, and the distant blue mountains that provided a dramatic backdrop. Plus the sky was filled with white clouds, and just a bit of blue sky that peeked through here and there.

We sat together for a long time, appreciating the view and talking about life.

We mosied back to the house, and before I knew it we were leaving to get yet more food. This time we went for “gorditas” which as far as I can tell are the same thing as sopes–a thick tortilla with and the edged pinched up all around to make a little dish to hold the ingredients. I’ve seen gorditas that are more like a little pocket, with the ingredients enclosed into 2 tortillas that are pinched together, but sopes are always like the open faced thick tortilla with various ingredients.

To get the gorditas, we drove a short distance down the road to an outdoor style restaurant. Also a simple operation, like the place with the tamales from last night, but this place seemed a lot more cheerful. The exterior of the house was painted bright blue, and there were tarps arranged to make a reasonable roof under which there was one line of long plastic table where you could sit. Each table had it’s own set of chiles and pickled vegetables to be added to the gorditas if you liked. Not that the gorditas really needed more chile. The first one I had was one with chicken. Then I got one with mushrooms. They came with some frijoles smeared as the bottom level, then were layered with some previously prepared chicken or mushroom mixture, and topped with queso fresco. The chicken one was good and a bit spicy, but the mushroom one left my lips tingling, it was so picoso. Karin and I both bought a small jar of honey from the same place. It smelled amazing, and it tasted even better.

Next we went over a hill, through a valley, and then up another hill to a little town. We first stopped into a bakery that Karin and Teo are familiar with. They’d sent most of their products to the plaza where they have a market every Sunday. But they were working on some more rolls, both dulces (slightly sweet with some sugar on top) and some salados (salty) that they promised would be ready in 45 minutes if we wanted to return.

They were so gracious at the bakery, and let me take tons of photos. I watched as the baker reformed each roll after it had already risen the first time, letting it rise once more before he’d put it in the horno. It was a very repetitive process, and he was very fast. The horno was a traditional wood-burning oven, and they baked everything by the wood fire. It wasn’t rounded, but instead rectangular with a seemingly open top. The burning wood was arranged in a semi-circular formation around the mouth of the stove. It was very warm, and the smell of burning wood brought back memories of winter fires at home.

We walked on up the street to the Zocalo of the town, and soon entered the area of the “plaza” where they had the market. Actually in small towns they just refer to the market as the plaza. So to be accurate, we went to the plaza. There was lots and lots of fruit and vegetables. Also lots of tarp-roofs. I saw red cactus fruit there! I told Karin I wanted to try them. One of the vendors peeled one right there for me, and I ate the delicious fruit right in front of the stand. It was really good, so I bought a bag of them to take home. Truth be told, the green ones are tastier, in my opinion, but I love the color of the red cactus fruit. Once peeled, the fruit is bright fuschia, and it’s fun to eat such a bright shade of pink.

I also bought a green pomegranate (they call them “granadas” here.) It’s bright green on the outside, but the seeds are just as red as any other ripe red skinned pomegranate I’ve had at home. The guy who was selling them offered me a free taste of them, and shoveled three teaspoons of loose seeds into my waiting hand. They were so good I just had to buy one!

After we’d bought a bunch of other fruits and vegetables, we returned to the bakery. They were in full swing, placing the uncooked rolls onto a long wooden palette that the baker masterfully and precisely placed within the oven. When the rolls finished baking, he’d just as accurately fish them out from the horno and tumble them onto the waiting wooden table where his wife would organize them to cool, and dust off the excess flour before transferring them into a waiting basket.

The baskets were large and round. On the first visit I didn’t think too much about them, but now I took a closer look. They were woven in such a way that there was a rather large bump that rose from the center of the basket. The sides were about the same height as the central bump. The rolls could be neatly arranged in a radial pattern to fill the basket. Then one of the other workers in the bakery took up the basket, and placed it right on top of his head! It was like a giant sombrero, filled with bread. The “bump” in the center was just the right size for a head. Really ingenious.

The baker pulled out lots of little brown rolls. The few that were odd shaped or sized or a little too blackened, he set aside, ostensibly for the family. He also pulled out some rolls that were bright pink! These were the dulce rolls, and later I saw him dusting some unbaked dulce rolls with the pink sugar just before they went into the oven. Another fun bright pink thing to eat! We were offered some of each type of roll to try, hot from the oven. They were really so good, both the salados and the dulces. Karin bought a big bag filled with both varieties.

We were soon on our way back to the ranch, and in the car we kept eating the rolls. I had the idea to open the honey to dip bits of the salado roll. It was delightful, and soon we were all dipping the bread in the honey and getting rather sticky.

Back at the rancho we all just relaxed for a while, had some fresh mint tea and yet more bread with honey. I started a couple of new patterns based on the decorative iron work that’s in front of many windows in Mexico, including those at the rancho. Eventually we were back on the road, and thankfully we didn’t stop to eat anything else (I was stuffed!).

It started raining on our way back, but we’d been fortunate to have such great weather during our stay. It’s really been raining so much here. A lot of rain, everyday. I got back to the house by 9pm, did most of my homework and went to bed.

I woke up at about 10am. I heard Sigrid and the other guests in the hall, but when I finally got up and went downstairs, everyone was missing. So I made myself breakfast, took a shower and tidied up my room. Just when I was thinking I’d go for a walk, Karin called and asked if I’d like to go to the Rancho. I said, “yes of course!”

The plan was that they’d pick me up around 2 or 3 and then we’ll stay over night. Karin said that we would have “la cena” in a small town near the ranch tonight, go for a long walk in the morning around the ranch, and then check out a market tomorrow which is supposed to be very interesting to see.

That’s pretty much what happened. They picked me up, and we were off to the Rancho. We stopped at a big restaurant right on the side of the highway–we didn’t even have to exit, just pull off onto the side of the road and park. We had tacos among other things. Everything was ok, but I definitely have had better tacos.

We got to the Ranch and settled in a bit. Karin and I took a walk across the road, down a sandy lane. There was a meadow to the right that had tall grass that was in bloom, and the whole field looked soft and silvery green. There was a small “bordo” (water reservoir) off to the left that we walked up to through some of the same tall grass. There were little white butterflies fluttering around the bank of the bordo. We might have walked further, but the farmer had blocked off the lane near his house.

So we turned around and went back. Then we all piled into the truck (including Marco ((who takes care of the ranch when noone is there)) and his wife and kids) and headed off to Tapatino for tamales. This is the same little town where Siggy and everyone ate tacos when I went to the ranch the first time, but this time we headed up the road away from the main town square. We stopped and a conspicuous looking little “restaurant”. They were cooking the tamales on a small gas stove that was on top of the a table on the sidewalk. Through the doors that lead into a cement entry way, was another table. This is where we sat. I got one green tamale and an atole flavored with some kind of fruit. Atole is a hot drink made with rice or oats that is flavored with everything from chocolate to fruit to caheta to ground up cookies. I don’t usually like atole because it’s typically VERY sweet, but the fruity one I had was only a little bit sweet.

After dinner we walked around the town square. There were lots of people, and a few stands with jewelry. Karin bought me a little silver ring and I bought myself a big bracelet made with lots of small reddish orange opaque glass beads. There was a guy there selling little kits to blow bubbles, but he had one that was making these HUGE bubbles. I’ve never seen them so big. He said it was some kind of industrial formula of soap that allowed the bubbles to get so big.

After we’d seen everything there was to see, we all headed back to the ranch. I took the opportunity of having a tv and dvd player and movies in my room to watch a movie. I saw the Red Violin. It was pretty good, and it was pretty late when I finally went to sleep.

I woke up at 11am because Siggy sent me a text message. We texted back and forth for about a half an hour. She officially has a new boyfriend which has been in the works for a couple of weeks. Romance is a different situation in Mexico than it is in the States. Couples get together and then maybe they break up. No fuss no muss. Relationships are very formal. A guy officially asks a girl to be his girlfriend, often very soon after the couple has decided that they kind of like each other. People here don’t “date” for indeterminate amounts of time. Maybe just a few official dates to make sure you like one another, but the only option is to quickly become an item or to split. From what I can gather, breakups are also very formal. “We’re through.” Then that’s it. No on again off again drag outs. Just a little heart ache, and then you find a new boyfriend/girlfriend and the process of courtship begins all over again.

After texting with Siggy I zonked back out until 2pm when I was awoken by Jenny asking if I’d like to go out to lunch to a restaurant with her and Sigrid. I told them that I’d gotten home at 6am, so I’d rather just take it easy. So that gave me the day with the house to myself since Reina was also away for the day, and Anne had somehow gotten up earlier and headed out to see the Torrero (bull fight) in San Angel.

I did absolutely nothing. Well that’s not entirely accurate. I didn’t leave the house, but I took a nice long shower, finally removed the pathetically chipped nail polish from my toes, tidied up my room, made a lovely lunch with a mini bagel and grapes and a tomato and some cactus fruit, did my homework, and drew for a while. Nothing crazy, but after the day and night I had, I think I needed a day to just veg out and take it easy.

Friday!
School was long and boring again. I got kind of frustrated because my professor doesn’t like to simply correct me when I make a mistake, but she drags it out, asking again and again if I really answered what I answered, with the obvious tone to her voice that I am incorrect. She expects that I’ll catch on and self-correct my mistake, but clearly if I think I have the right answer, even if I know it’s wrong, I’m just not getting it. So I got frustrated, and then kind of “turned off” and she finally corrected my mistake, which then seemed obvious–I already did know the grammar rule I’d gotten wrong, I was just in a corner with the answer I’d provided. So then because I’d gotten it wrong, she had to go through the entire grammar lesson that I already knew so she would feel confident that I’d learned it.

When I arrived at school no one was in the office. And no one showed up. So we moved to the terrace area where we found a semi-quiet area. It was still really noisy because the city is very noisy, but we didn’t have to stay there long anyway. We were soon met by a guy who took us to an alternative place to have class. The room was much quieter than our regular room (which has a window that faces a busy road, and is far from sound-proof), but it didn’t have any ventilation, so it was really stuffy.

Not only that, I was feeling a little out of it. My head felt a little cloudy, and I was tired, and my emotions were right up at the surface. If she hadn’t eased off when she did, I’m sure I would have started crying just cause I do that sometimes.

Stuffy room + stuffy head + stuffy professor = annoyed and frustrated Anika. Overall it was a morning fit to be a Monday, but it was friday, so at least I had the weekend to look forward to.

Friday is family dinner day. Everyone comes over to the house where I’m staying and eats together. We usually gather by around 3 or 4. This time it was me, Jenny, Walter, Sigrid, Karin, Sven, Tere, and Sabrina was hanging around although she didn’t eat with us (she’s only 2 and is more interested in playing with dolls than formal dinners).

The dinner was good–soup, of course, to start with, then chicken with mushrooms, mixed veggies, potatoes, and salad. Raspberry mousse for dessert.

After dinner I played with Sabrina and Adrianna a bit (Adrianna is Reina’s 10 year old daughter). We somehow ended upstairs in my room, and Adrianna noticed my markers, and so we drew a little bit, but what she really took interest in was my computer. I loaded up photoshop and illustrator and she played around on it all afternoon, even when I had to get ready to go out that night, and even when Siggy came over and hung out with me in my room and we talked about stuff.

So I got ready to go to the Lucha Libre! Chucho had gotten tickets for everyone a few days earlier. He was going to pick me up at first, but since Siggy had showed up, it made more sense for she and I to go togther, which was cool because it also afforded us extra time to just hang out and chat for a bit. At one point Pancho called Siggy and said that he was outside her house, but she was over at my house, so then he drove over here. He’d apparently been studying and got bored, so just drove on over. We all hung out together in the formal sitting room downstairs and we laughed so much and so loudly that it prompted our “neighbors” (my aunts who were in the small room next door playing cards) to get up and close our door. Oops.

Eventually we had to mosey on. It was raining by that time, but the traffic wasn’t too bad, so we got there in plenty of time. We actually got there first which meant that we didn’t have tickets to get in. The lucha libre is not in the friendliest, classiest part of town, so Siggy worked her magic because she knows one of the announcers of the Lucha Libre, so somehow we managed to get through security without being searched, which was good because as I noticed, they were taking away cameras. They could be checked so you could get them back at the end of the show, but still, I was glad that I didn’t have to hand it over, even for the short-term.

So we got to hang out in the limbo area. Not inside, but also not outside. Protected from the rain, and protected by our new security guard friends. One asked me tons of questions about salsa dancing–if I liked to dance, if I enjoyed the music, if I’d gone dancing in the city, etc. Each time he’d ask a salsa question, he’d do a little solo-salsa-dance-in-place. After each question, I just nodded, smiled, and said, “si!” I think he was very entertained by himself.

So eventually Chucho and the tickets showed up. We went up to our seats. Not the best in the house, but not too shabby either. Definitely got a good enough view of the action.

It was a very theatrical, choreographed, entertaining performance. People told me it was really different than the WWE wrestling we have in the states, but honestly, I don’t know how different it really is. Both are very acrobatic and with predetermined endings. Not all wrestlers wore a mask, most were burly and oily and greezy, and there was a lot of drama leading up to and even during or after the matches. Very similar to American wrestling in a lot of ways. I’m glad I went, though I don’t know if I’d want to repeat the experience, unless someone from out of town wanted to go see it. Then I could buy the lucha libre wrestler head key chain that I kind of wanted to get.

I decided to go home right after the match with Siggy. The cloudy feeling in my head from earlier that day was still there, and some scratchiness had settled in my throat. Plus I was just really tired for some reason.

I went right to bed.

In bed by 4:30am, up by 9:30am to have breakfast with Sigrid. She’d arranged a special breakfast of “hotcakes” for us, so I didn’t want to be late. Despite the little sleep, after a quick shower I was really feeling ok. Maybe a bit tired, but not otherwise in pain.

Today is “Dia de los Piramides” since Charlie had invited me to go along with him and Karen (his friend who’s here from Boston) to Teotihuacan. Pancho also came along too. The 4 of us piled into Charlie’s 2 door Pontiac Sunfire. My back wasn’t terribly happy in the cramped back seat, but it also wasn’t too bad, and walking around once at our destination really helped.

The drives there and back were striking. The city reaches much further out into the country than I remember from last time, but I recognized the villages are built up on the mountains that fringe the highway out to the pyramids. The sight is just as impressive as ever. All the houses are built in the same style: square or rectangular, constructed from gray concrete bricks. Each house is as close to the next as possible. The overall effect is a large gray mass, resembling a parasite that is slowly growing up and over it’s host. It really gives the impression that eventually the flotsom of buildings will swallow up the entire mountain. Maybe one day it will.

Zooming by the villages, it would be easy to be overwhelmed by the expanse of houses, but I noticed that there was some color here and there. Some owners had invested in lively colors of paint to decorate the exterior of their dwellings. Flashes of fuschia, turquoise, lime, apricot, and canary yellow popped out from the gray canvas. Although my first impression was of a parasitic inorganic organism, the expansive villages also looked a bit like recycled paper. Mostly a chopped up gray mass, with bits of bright colored paper mixed in. I couldn’t help but imagine what a different, less morose impression it would make if everyone painted their houses in their color of choice. But I suppose in certain living conditions painting a house is not a priority, but a luxury if you can afford it.

Anne warned me that I should bring a sun hat and dress for really warm weather. Of course I ignored her advice since it looked cloudy and even a bit chilly outside. I dressed in layers which I was glad for later when it got really hot and I wore only my tank top. I’d wished that I’d worn shorts, but at least I wasn’t totally sweltering in the heat. The sunhat would have been a good choice since the sun really beat down on us for the afternoon. By the end of the day, my shoulders and upper back were bright red where my tank top didn’t cover. My cheeks where a little red too, but luckily I’d been pretty good about keeping sunblock on my face.

We entered the compound at the far end of the Road of the Dead, the pyramids far in the back ground. We climbed over one set of steep stairs to check out the first temple. There was a short flight of more steep narrow stairs that we all ascended. The temple was dedicated to Quetzalcoatl (the feathered serpent) and Tlaloc, the God of water and rain. They were doing a lot of excavation on the pyramid, and it was neat to see how they sectioned off areas for careful study.

After the first temple, we started down the main avenue toward the pyramids. We walked up and down many small flights of steep narrow stairs. We checked out a few side attractions where there were ruins of various mysterious buildings. Pancho and I thought there was this one area that looked a bit like an aqueduct/canal, but then it just suddenly ended with a totally open end, so we were a bit puzzled.

There were areas of the (i think it was called) Piso de las Micas that were corded off by barbed wire–both natural and man made. They had the regular metal barbed wire, which sometimes had red plastic bottles attached (yay for recylcling), I assume to prevent injury in case some one didn’t notice the wire and walked right into it. They also had “natural” barbed wire, which was basically piles upon piles of thorny branches stacked up across the wall that the public was not to cross. I honestly found the thorny mass less inviting that the traditional barbed wire. One could possibly dodge the barbs on the wire with careful planning, but there’d be no avoiding the thorns unless you cleared the stack completely.

The sun was really gearing up as we made our way to the Pyramid of the Sun. With minor hesitation we all agreed that it was now or never, so after reading several informational plaques, we started the slow climb up to the top. I told everyone from the beginning that I didn’t care if I seemed out of shape, I was going to take my time to get up to the top. I wanted to take it slow and avoid injury. Pancho was the first to the top, but Carlos and Karen kept pace with me, and we eventually made it all the way up there too. It was quite a sense of accomplishment, I must admit, and the view was worth it. Dozens of yellow and black butterflies danced around us in the breeze. Below you could see vendors, evident from their wide brimmed straw hats, greeting passersby, trying to entice them with their wares. Parking lots were sectioned off by big agave plants (also a very convincing natural fence). One thing that was different were the amount of buildings. They were everywhere. There was not one unblemished view from the top of the pyramids. I’m not sure if this has changed in the 8 years since I’d been, or if I’m just more sensitized to the social, environmental and economical implication of it, but it was definitely a little disheartening.

Even with all the development in the surrounding areas, there was still a lot of interesting stuff to see. We all hung out on the Sun Pyramid for quite a while, and eventually made our descent. I learned 2 tricks pretty quickly: climb up and down the stairs sideways, and don’t look down while you’re climbing. I looked down once while I was on some particularly steep steps, and I had to take a minute to compose myself.

Safely at the bottom again, we headed over to the plaza of the Pyramid of the Moon. We checked out a ruin off to the left of the plaza. The building had been restored to a certain degree, and there were a lot of frescos and carvings that were still in really good shape. In one area where the plaster had fallen away, the missing surface made the shape of an evil bunny. It had just a bit of plaster in tact that was painted red, making the evil red staring eye of the bunny. I have a photo of it somewhere.

We were walking toward the actual pyramid of the moon, contemplating if we should go up the stairs to the platform infront of the pyramid (the access to the top was closed) when it started to drizzle. There were ominous clouds all around. We decided instead to start the long walk all the way back down the avenue of the dead to our car. Unfortunately we couldn’t out walk the rain, and by the time we were at the entrance, I was totally soaked.

I stopped into the bathroom to freshen up a bit. The facilities left much to be desired, but at least there was toilet paper handed out by the bathroom attendant. I went to wash my hands and I stared at a suspicious looking blue powder in a little dish. I looked up at the bathroom attendant, pointed at the blue substance and asked, “sopa?” She nodded vigorously, agreeing that yes, indeed it was “sopa”.

On the walk from the entrance to the car, my mistake suddenly struck me, and I started giggling aloud, making everyone wonder what was so funny. I revealed what happened in the bathroom, and the fact that I’d actually asked if the blue stuff was soup (sopa) not soap (which is acutally jabon). We all had a chuckle. For some reason the whole situation really amuses me even still; I think because the attendent agreed so exuberantly that yes, indeed the blue stuff was indeed soup (sopa) and didn’t even bat an eye when I washed my hands with it.

We headed back towards town, and decided to eat in a Mexican restuarant in La Condesa. We didn’t eat until nearly 5pm, so we were all pretty much starving by then. I didn’t know what to order, so I just got the same thing that Charlie and Pancho ordered–Chalupitas with topping. Then a big oval plate was set down in front of me with a big slab of meat covering the chalupitas. I was a little daunted, especially when I discovered that the big slab of meat was covering… yet more meat. There was shredded chicken, onions and salsa as the main topping for the chalupitas. The beef slab was just a bonus I guess. It was actually really tasty, but there was no way I could have finished it all.

By then my back was really acting up, so I got up and went outside to walk around a bit while waiting for the check to arrive. I walked up and down the central median of the street several times (there was a nice walkway lined with trees). A long time had passed, so I went back in the restaurant and they were just getting their credit cards back. Finally we were on our way again. Everyone had plans to meet and go out again, but I was tired and my back was killing me, so I just got Charlie to drop me off at my house instead.

I was glad I made that decision. I hung out with Sigrid for a while, but pretty much just kind of relaxed and went to bed early.

written on 08.14.2007

It’s the 13th of August! Kasi’s birthday! Otto’s was on the 9th. I can’t believe I forgot. My puppies are a year old now!

So anyway I’d laid down to rest my eyes at 7:30 pm Sunday night. 12 hours later, I just happened to wake up with a start, noticing that it was fairly bright outside. Checking the clock, I felt lucky. Any later and I probably would have missed my class.

I felt rushed, so I actually got ready really quickly, and was ready to go earlier than usual. Karin had stayed over to help Sigrid, and she offered to “give me a ride” since she was going that way. I assumed she meant to school, so I jumped at the chance. What she actually meant was “a lift to the taxi stand” which is actually totally unnecessary since they usually come right to my door to pick me up. It doesn’t cost anymore, plus the taxi stand is in the opposite direction from the school, so I backtracked with the taxi driver, right passed my house on the way to school.

We arrived at school with no problem. I opened my bag to get to my wallet, but it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. It wasn’t anywhere, and I checked all the pockets. The realization that I’d left my entire purse at home crept over me like an unwelcome spider. Of course, in a mild panic, I couldn’t think of any of the words to communicate my situation. Finally some coherent words broke to the surface and I spurt out, “Necessito regresar a mi casa. No tengo mi dinero. Lo siento.” So then began a fairly miserable, excruciatingly slow trip right back home through the molasses like traffic. I dashed inside, got my purse and then off we were again. The drive to school goes pretty quickly since it seems to go against traffic in the morning somehow. Back at school I asked for the total. $200 pesos. Gulp. That’s about $20USD. Not much I could do about it though, so I forked over the money with a little extra for an “i’m sorry for being so absent minded” tip.

With all that, I was actually only about 10-15 minutes late for class, which I’m really glad I made it for since it was a really good one.

After class I related my sad morning story to the professor who told me not to worry–that actually the same thing had happened to her that same morning!

Then I caught up with Megan, and she offered me a ride back to Las Lomas where we both live. I was so grateful not to have to spend even more money on a taxi that day. I had her drop me at Starbucks again, where I spent some time just relaxing and catching up with some people. I actually felt very productive as I finally got the routing number for my bank so I paid my first bill for my new credit card online. I also paid my US cellphone bill. Seems a bit of a waste to still pay for it and not use it, but I’ll only be gone for a few months.

I got home late; after 4pm. I was told that if I wanted a proper lunch I had to be back home by 3pm, otherwise I was on my own. That was fine with me, and I made myself a delicious bagel with avocado and cream cheese.

That evening I didn’t do much. Started catching up on my journal, did my homework (which was really a lot) read a bit then went to bed.

written on 08.13 and 08.14.2007

I fell right asleep, and only was awoken once briefly when Santiago, who was sleeping on the air matress right outside the paper thin door that separated my bedroom from the main entrance room, started screaming his head off. It sounded as though he was being murdered in his sleep. Of course we all tried to ignore him at first (he’s prone to a bit of drama on a regular basis).

Well, turns out he actually was being attacked. By a puppy. We got to make lots of fun of him for it later in the morning when we all finally got up. He would push the puppy off him, but of course the pup thought this was play, so he’d jump right back on his head and start licking him furiously, until pushed off again, so that he could hop on Santiago’s head again. Each time the puppy pounced, Santiago would let out a startled scream followed by sleepy, angry, incoherent, Spanish mumbling.

Finally Siggy got up and grabbed the puppy to let him outside, and everyone was soon able to drift back to sleep.

I was awoken by the Killers singing when someone called my phone (I’m borrowing one of Siggy’s phones while I’m here, and all the menus are in Spanish so I don’t know how to change anything). I sleepily grabbed for the phone and was pleasantly surprised to hear my mom say, “Anika?” I told her to hold on a sec, lest everyone get rudely awoken in the house for the second time that morning, and I groggily stumbled out onto the front terrace.

I spoke with her briefly as the call was costly for the both of us, but it was good to hear her voice and assure her that everything was really going great. While on the phone I woke up a bit, and was able to appreciate the beauty of the morning. All traces of the storm, except the damp ground, were gone. The sun shone brilliantly, the dew sparkling in the morning light. In front of me stretched out an incredible vista over looking the valley and orchareds and meadows and sheep grazing in the background.

I actually turned around and lay back down in bed for a split second before coming to my senses. I hopped right back up, put my shoes on and took a walk around the area, soaking up the amazing morning. Ana (the friendly german girl; now I know who’s who) came along, as well as Zeus, the ranch puppy that Teocrito adores, and who loves to attack Santiago’s head in the wee small hours.

The ground was really soggy, so I didn’t get too far before my shoes were soaked, but it was great to amble around in the sun and really be present to the quiet of the country.

Back at the ranch house, I asked if I could take a shower, and they managed to get the hot water heater lit so that I had chilly water instead of freezing water to bathe with. Clean and fresh, I gobbled down the breakfast Saskia made (juevos con jamon y queso y pan ((eggs with ham and cheese and a roll))). Soon everyone who was going to Taxco was ready, and we hopped into 2 cars for the 1 hour + ride. On the day trip went Siggy, me, Charlie, his Boston friend, Pancho, Ana and Leoni (the other, quieter German).

The drive to Taxco was incredible. We wound our way over mountains with treacherous curves and drop offs. We sped (sort of sped, they have lots of speed bumps all over Mexico, some with little or no warning, so you really have to be careful) through valleys where they grow the all the flowers sold in Mexico City and those for Dia de Los Muertos. We passed many small restaurants and vendors, and stopped briefly for a Jugo de Coco (fresh young coconut juice).

The guy running the stand wore a cowboy had and wielded a machete, deftly lopping off just enough of the top of the coconut to expose the soft inner mantle, but not piercing it, so the juice wouldn’t spill on the ground. He then cut a small hole in the exposed coconut meat, inserted a straw and voila! Fresh coconut juice. We all sipped merrily, and of course took a few touristy shots of ourselves drinking from the green coconut husks. When the drink was empty, if we wanted, we could ask the vendor to cut open the coconut and scoop out the meat. He would then put it in a bag and you could sprinkle lime, chili, salt, sugar, or whatever you wanted over the coconut, and then have a tasty treat. I took mine just with some lime and munched it happily as we continued our drive.

Shortly after the coconut stop, I spied my first real live Burro (donkey, jackass, etc.)! I love donkeys for some inexplicable reason. It was Siggy who pointed it out to me, aware of my fondess for the creatures. After that, each time anyone in the car saw one they’d cry out “donkey!” as we passed. I saw dark brown ones, light gray ones, and every shade in between. Each one was always right on the side of the road, tethered to a tree or fence to graze. Seems a little dangerous for the donkey, but I supposed it works since so many of them do it. As we were driving through one little town I actually saw 2 donkeys loaded up with wood being led by their keepers down the hill along the side of the road. It was so cool to see donkeys in action.

As the road got steeper and windier and more exciting, Siggy mentioned that we were nearing Taxco. We entered a toll road, and within a minute or so we go our first view of the city. The buildings encrust the entire side of the mountain. Most are white or light brown with red roofs, but what really stood out to me were the regular black squares of all the windows that seemed to mournfully witness our approach to the city, blankly and unfalteringly gazing back at us. As picturesque as the scene, and indeed the city, was, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being watched, and not in an entirely approving way.

Soon we were swallowed up by the city limits, churning down little crooked roads and alleys, up and down steep inclines, making our way to the center of the city. Parking was tricky to say the least, but eventually both cars were safely, if not awkwardly parked. Siggy’s car was stationed in front of an old, defunct horse drawn carriage, assigned the spot by an official attendant, looking after the cars that circled the main plaza. Pancho’s car was parked backward in what looked to me like a back entrance to a store, but I suppose he’d gotten permission to park there as well.

First stop was the church where we found ourselves a tour guide who explained about the history of the church, how it was built and from what, and about the decorative aspects inside, including the paintings and carvings on the altars.

There were a couple of “unusual” paintings that showed themes that were very uncommon. One portrayed the Virgin Mary, pregnant, big belly and all. Another dipicted the circumsion of Christ. Several others were rather violent, and then there was a room with portraits of important people from the town including the Bordas and the namesake of the town who was born in Taxco and gained fame as a comic writer in Spain.

After the tour our guide mentioned a silver coop that he belonged to, and he could show us where it was. There were 27 small stalls all selling silver jewelry. We were escorted back to “his stall” where his daughter was tending the stand. We were told that because he brought us here, we would receive a 10% discount on anything we bought. Later I found out that he actually gets a commission from the sales from the people he brings, and that anyone who wandered in off the street would probably get the same “special discount”. Be that as it may, there was really a good selection of jewelry, and I made my first purchases here, including one “splurge” for a bracelet that was made of circles wrapped in silver wire. Because it was worked differently, the wire was actually a purer silver than 92.5, or at least so I was told.

Next we kept walking down the crooked, steeply inclined road to check out several outside vendors that were selling anything but silver. Colorful fiber mats, colorful painted coconut masks, colorful stone beads, colorful purses made from grass or recycled candy wrappers. I looked over the stands a bit, but I was really there for one thing: silver.

As we meandered along, one of us would pop into one of the many silver shops, and the rest of us would follow. We found one other store where there was some really nice pieces, but this time I made a mental note and decided I could come back if I wanted to. Our walk led us back to the main plaza where we all agreed that a chance to sit and have a refresco would be very welcome. We went into one of the little courtyards off the main square, and were soon enjoying our drink of choice. I ordered an iced latte, which came frozen rather than over ice. I don’t usually go for frapuccinos, but it looked good, so I kept it. I was quickly reminded why I don’t usually drink frozen drinks anymore. I got some serious brain freeze because I always drink those things too fast regardless of their temperatures.

After a while of sitting, I got restless as there were some very enticing little silver shops all around the breezy courtyard. I got up and went into one that was decorated like a cave, rough walls and rock-formation tables and all. Everything was white-washed though, setting off the silver very nicely. The store really had some great variety, but was by no means cheap. Some of the bracelets were a bit heaftier, but their prices started at about $50USD, and I’d already seen similar ones for between $15-$30USD. There was a pendant that I decided to keep in mind for possible purchase. It was $20USD at the shop, and I found it at a smaller store for only $10USD. *score*!

Pancho remembered a place that was like a whole market with lots of little vendors but wasn’t exactly sure where it was. We asked so many people, who all seemed clueless, but had their own suggestion about where we could go find “good deals”. Finally we asked our parking attendant, and he steered us in the right direction. When we arrived, it was after 5pm, and unfortunately many of the stalls were already starting to pack up for the day. Still there were many to browse, and I got a really good deal on a set of silver bangles and several pairs of nice big silver earrings for about $8-$11USD each.

After getting home I read up a bit about Taxco and its silver and learned that it’s not uncommon to purchase items that aren’t exactly made of silver. Apparently if you discover that something is marked 92.5, but actually it’s not, it’s technically a jailable offense, but often it’s difficult to prove where the item was from anyway. After reading that I inspected some of my purchases, and I’m a little suspicious about some of them, but even so, I’m still happy with everything I got.

Final purchases made, we decided to take the cable car up to Monte Taxco, a big resort hotel that has a decent restaurant with an extraordinary view of the city from the terrace where we got a table. Lucky too that we were there Saturday because that’s the day that they have a buffet, and that Saturday’s theme was Mexican food, so I got to sample a lot of different dishes.

After dinner a Trio band (they are the ones that sing sweet soft Mexican love songs) started playing inside, eventually making their way to the terrace where they serenaded us with a lovely song about Palomas (doves). Below the terrace was a large patio that stretched to the ample swimming pool. Down there another band set up, and started playing before our trio band had finished our serenade. It was the battle of the Mexican bands. Unfortunately the other band played “Banda” music which is very loud and lively, so if I had to guess I’d say they won the battle. Yet still it was a great, truly Mexican experience to be enveloped by the cacophony of the two bands with two very different styles playing at the same time.

After the music subsided we decided to make our way back to the car. Since the cable cars stopped running at 7pm and it was now nearing 9pm, we had to take a taxi to the bottom of the mountain. What a harrowing ride. 3 of us piled into a little Vocho taxi and we were soon barrelling down some of the steepest inclines I’d seen in the city. We swooped around near 360 degree turns, also set at steep angles. I would have been afraid to ski down the road at an easy pace. In the bumpy back seat of the taxi, no seatbelts, and no driver side seat in front of me to provide even a false sense of security (they remove the driver seat in Vocho taxis for easy access to the back since Vochos only have 2 doors), we some how made it safely to our car. I was glad to climb back into the back of Siggy’s Jetta (pronounced “Yetta” here). It was spacious, there was a seatbelt, and also her seat firmly in front of me.

We made it back to the ranch in about an hour. I joined everyone who’d gathered in the kitchen for a few beers. We listened to Chucho retell many of the infamous tales they’d all gathered together over the years. They were pretty interesting, but after a while, I just wanted to go to sleep. I’d had a long day in the sun, walking around, and shopping; quite exhausting work. But Chucho kept talking. I suppose after a while my answers and comments were maybe a little less encouraging or friendly (which is what happens when I get tired), but certainly not antagonistic. Yet Chucho voiced concern that he’d said something wrong and wondered what happened. I was just like, no dude, it’s ok, I’m just tired. And then he told another story. Finally I was able to break away at about 3am, and I fell like a log into bed and stayed slept like one until sometime when it was light out.