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!

I’ve learned my lesson from the past few days, so I decided I wouldn’t rely on anyone today to do stuff with.

At breakfast Sigrid mentioned that she’d been invited to Gerardo’s for lunch for his son’s birthday, and although she didn’t say as much, it was clear that I wasn’t really invited. That suited me fine. (Turns out that when Gerardo heard I was in town, he and his wife both were soooo sorry that they hadn’t invited me. They thought I’d already left to San Miguel.)

I decided that I’d go to the Museo de Anthropologia. Sigrid was concerned that it was going to be very crowded, but I didn’t mind. I went anyway. I found a parking spot on the road with the help of a “viene viene” and headed over to the Museo through the park, passing the Museo Tamayo on my way.

I was just in time to take a seat at an outdoor stone bench around a venue where the Voladores perform. Four of them climbed up a very tall pole that swayed quite a bit with their movements. They wound up long thick ropes around the top of the pole, and attached the other end around their waists. Then they jumped off head first, and they safely circled the pole as the rope slowly unwound. In this manner they continued to “fly,” getting closer and closer to the ground with each turn. At the last moment they flipped right side up and caught the ground running. Then they asked for donations.

After the show I walked over to the another little show that was going on. Traditional Aztec dancers were pounding their drums and shaking their rattles and playing with fire. They carried on in the hot sun for quite a while. Then they asked for donations.

Next I meandered over to the museum. I passed security and walked into the lobby area. It did look rather crowded, so I didn’t buy a ticket. I figured it would be better to come back on a less crowded day when I can really enjoy the exhibits. I walked over to the gift shop area, but also didn’t go in there because I would’ve had to check my bag, and that line was also long. But the walls of the museum shop were glass, so I got to gaze at all the pretty wares for sale. I spent quite a bit of time looking at some of the painted silk scarves that had amazing patterns all over them. There was one motif of a bug that really caught my eye (it was just one small part of a large intricate pattern) and later would inspire a nifty little patternof my own.

When I left the lobby area, I was surprised at the two lines of people waiting to get in. I didn’t have to wait at all to get through security, but now the two lines wound all across the large entrance plaza, and I had to cut through one of them to get out!

Feeling extra good about my decision not to go in, I crossed Reforma to head down to the Jardin Botanico. They installed an exhibit that is hung on the large fence that circles the park. It apparently changes often. When I saw it last time, a few weeks ago, it was a showcase of photos of the amazing natural beauty of Mexico. I’d expected to see the same photos today, and was glad that I’d get to take a closer look at the photos of nature and animals, but instead there was a new exhibition. It was photos from a magazine that covers the political climate of Mexico. There were photos of death, violence, destruction and presidents. In a way it was amazing to see the images, but it was also kind of unexpected and jarring on the otherwise sunny cheerful day. About 3/4 of the way through I had to just avert my eyes, and continue my walk to the Jardin without looking at the remaining documentary photos.

Once I entered the Jardin, I focused my attention on the plants, trying to distance myself from some of the horrible scenes I’d just taken in. I did a pretty good job of it. It’s a very tranquil place. Some areas are sunny with lots of cactus and shrubs. There’s an area with water plants, and and agricultural display with corn and chiles growing. I found a nice little plaza with lots of trees. There were plenty of benches underneath the shade, and I picked on toward the back edge of the plaza, and sat down to work on the pattern that had been sparked at the Museo gift shop.

I drew for quite a while.

Eventually a couple of ladies came over and sat on the bench next to me. One of them had her son with her. He was full of energy and just wanted to go play, but the ladies were tired, and just wanted to sit. At one point he was jiggling the bench we were sitting on, and his mom asked him to stop because, “ella esta dibujando” (”she is drawing”). That piqued his curiousity, so he peered over to look at what I was doing. He pointed to the lines I’d made with a dark green marker and asked, “es negro?” and I said, no, it’s a very dark green, but he looked rather confused, so I pulled out my black marker, and drew a bit next to the green to show him the difference. Then he started talking about how sometimes trees have leaves that are dark green. Eventually the ladies felt rested and the three of them continued on their way.

I got up shortly thereafter, and decided to head back home after a brief pass through the greenhouse.

I got back and continued working on the patterns I started. Met up with Sigrid, had some supper, then to bed.

I woke up early this morning: 6:45am, in order to call mum again. Last night at somepoint it suddenly hit me that Kasi was having her surgery today (to get spayed) and I didn’t know if mum knew about the certificate that I had from the humane society. It was a good thing I called, because indeed she didn’t know about it, but with my vague recollections of where it might be, she was able to find all the paperwork.

I went back to bed and snoozed for a half an hour before getting up.

No hot water.

I really thought about not taking a shower, but it was really necessary, and I knew I’d be happy and awake when it was over. I gritted my teeth and tried not to think about the cold water that coursed over my body. I managed to get mostly clean, and I was right, I did feel better when I was done, even though my teeth were chattering and I was prickly with goosebumps.

Not only was I frozen, it was drizzly and gray outside (the hurricane had started to move over the city), so I dressed in cozy clothes.

The rain did one good thing: cleared up traffic. It took me all of 10 minutes to get to school today. The other day it took me 40.

Take was present in class today, but again it seemed more casual than usual. Maybe because it’s coming to an end and we’ve learned all the main topics we need to know? Again it was mostly a day of conversation and clarification. My profesora actually gave me a really nice compliment.

She’d suggested that we don’t say, “no hablo espanol!” but instead to say, “hablo un poco de espanol” or “hablo espanol basico”. A few minutes later I asked a question which lead to the comment. She said that she doesn’t think I have just a basic level of Spanish, but that I lack confidence in speaking. She noticed that most of the ideas I communicate are fairly complex and complete, even if I don’t know every word as I explain my thoughts.

I was pleased to hear the compliment, and when I think about it, she’s probably right. I did take 4 years of Spanish in high school and another semester in college. Most of the grammar we were learning, I remembered that I’d had before, but I just couldn’t recall every intricacy of every rule. When I started the class, I knew it would be good for me to review everything, but until then, I felt like I was in the “right level”. It was definitely a boost to hear her opinion.

I got home and it was still raining thanks to the hurricane. I followed Jenny to her house to have lunch with her and Sigrid. Walter offered me a tequila. How could I refuse? For the meal we had taquitos that were crispy, moist, delicious and addictive. I again tried ate (pronounced ah-tay), this time made from guava. It was better than the kind we had made from quince at Karin’s one time, but it was still too sweet for my taste. This time they offered it with cheese, which was better, but I think I’d prefer just cheese.

My back was bugging me, but I managed to get through lunch. When we got home, I got a call from Siggy who conferenced me with Carlos. He and Karen were going to a Jazz concert at the Museo Tamayo and I was invited to join them. It was 5:45 and the concert started at 6:30. I got ready to go in 10 minutes. Sigrid had suggested that I take a taxi rather than driving down there and having to deal with parking. I called the taxi stand. They didn’t have a taxi available, but said they’d send on in 10-15 minutes. So I waited. Next time I looked at the clock it was 6:30! So I called Siggy for advice, and she said that I should just drive since there was a parking lot near the museum. So I decided to drive. And I entered the traffic that itself resembled a parking lot. Nothing was moving. It took me 20 minutes just to go 4 blocks. I could have walked there faster. I decided to give up. It just seemed impossible. I called Carlos who said that if I could, I should still come since the concert didn’t start until 7:30. I was skeptical, so I said I’d just go home. But then I called Siggy and she laughed when I told her the way that I’d tried to go. She gave me the directions for an easier “back way” and her assurance that I could still make it by 7:30. So I called Carlos to say that we were back on!

Once I got through the traffic muck around my neighborhood and got to the “back way” Siggy had recommended, things cleared right up and I was at the museum withing 20 minutes total! I was even early for the concert, so I found Carlos and Karen and got to catch the tail end of the guided tour of the art in the museum.

Eventually we made our way to the concert area where they had free wine and beer. I opted for the free red wine. I should have gone for the white. Bad white wine is usually better than bad red. Actually I should have gone for the Corona. They can’t mess that up.

The concert started, and my expectations weren’t too high. I don’t proclaim to be a jazz enthusiast, follower, enjoyer or afficionado. I’d even say that I don’t like jazz if given the option. But this jazz was ok. It was very melodic and the musicians were really having fun playing. Plus the music was infused with Latin beats, so the overall effect pleased me. My favorites were the few Bossa-Nova-esque songs.

After the concert Carlos and Karen walked with me back to my car, and we agreed to meet the next day at the Frida Khalo museum in San Angel. I got back in my car and headed back home. By then the streets were totally clear everywhere.

Throughout the evening, my back was really hurting, but I’m glad I made it. I was home by 9pm and I hadn’t eaten, but the rest of the house was dark! I fixed myself a sandwich and ate by myself in the breakfast room. In my room I edited some photos, caught up with my journal and finally got to bed very late.

I’m tired tonight. Maybe because I went without my 2-3 hour nap today. Hehe.

I talked with Mum which is always a boost. She got back from Germany yesterday, and she’s quite glad to be home. I don’t want to air all the German family drama, but she had some difficulties with her sisters over there, like always. The only reason I mention it is that it is such a contrast to the family dynamic over here. Hearing the latest odd stories from the German side, makes me appreciate being part of the family community in Mexico even more.

I’m accepted here without hesitation or suspicion. While at times the family here gets a little too close for comfort (esp. for me, used to being left to my own devices most of the time), I recognize that all the minor “drama” here stems from the fact that people care about one another, are genuinely interested in one another’s lives, and only want what’s best. Since I realized this, I just kind of roll with the punches, and everything has been working out.

I got my car today! Teocrito dropped it off for me on his way out of town. I was on my own! It was a great feeling of liberation, sitting by myself in my car in the little driveway. I sat there for a minute or two, soaking up the feeling of independence. How I’d missed it. I drove to school with no problems. In fact I think it’s kind of fun to drive here. You can ignore certain rules at certain times and you just have to kind of nudge yourself into traffic where and when you want to go. I parked at the Gigante (supermarket that has everything from socks to auto parts to cactus fruit). I bought a few things I needed anyway so I could get my parking validated. Less than $1.50 to park for about 3 hours. I think I’m going to try the school’s parking lot tomorrow. It costs a little more, but I can park for up to 8 hours for the same amount.

After school and shopping, I followed my nose to get to the bank section, and I completed my little complicated transaction, getting closer to a paid off car.

I then drove to Starbucks and parked with the help of a “viene, viene” (”come, come”). A “viene, viene” is an unofficial parking attendant. You find them in all popular locations that have street parking. They claim a few spots on the street as “theirs” and then they help drivers who want to park to get into the space. They also help you exit safely, stopping traffic if necessary. While the driver is off on whatever important errand, they keep an eye on the car to make sure it stays safe. When you leave you give them maybe $5 or $10 pesos (50 cents to a dollar) for their help.

Something great happened today which has nothing to do with Mexico. Indeed I could have been anywhere in the world with internet access to get the news. I got a message on myspace from a friend I have not seen in maybe 17 years. She lived 2 houses down from me until I was 10 or 11 when she and her twin sister and the rest of the family moved to Michigan. I never heard from or saw her after that. I’d done an internet search a few times over the years for either her or her sister, but with no luck.

But now she’s back in touch! It’s weird to have this connection with someone that really I don’t even know at all but also really fun and exciting. I’m so curious about what she’s up to these days.

Anyway, after Starbucks where I drank my usual capuccino and indulged in a pan de chocolate, I headed back home for dinner. Again, not much in the mood for homework, I decided to call mum. That’s when I got the update about her trip to Germany, and had the chance to fill her in on everything that I’ve been up to. She seemed really happy that I’m having such a good time here.

I was in a good mood after my conversation, so I went downstairs and read to Sigrid from our book for a while. We were almost finished with the chapter when her friend, Lolita showed up to play cards. She invited me to play also, but I opted out and headed upstairs to my room.

Still not in the mood for homework, I continued my creative pursuits. I dragged my comfy chair out onto the terrace and made myself a hot cup of black tea with milk and sugar. While reposing outside in my chair with my tea by my side, I drew a really cool weird flower. Not quite finished yet (stippling can be a bitch), but I think it’s going to look really cool.

Finally I reluctantly turned to my homework, but luckily Anna was back home by then to distract me a bit. I didn’t quite know what I was in for, as I ended up serving as a sounding board for all her frustrations.

It wasn’t under amicable terms that she left the last place she was staying to come here. It was Anna’s friend’s aunt’s place that she had to leave because the aunt decided she didn’t like Anna’s attitude or something (which is odd because Anna is the most friendly gregarious person I’ve met here so far). So Anna’s still rather intwined in the situation since her friend is still in the picture, even if the aunt would prefer that they went their separate ways altogether. She’s having a hard time with the whole situation, and she doesn’t really have anyone else to talk to in Mexico, plus I think she needed some reassurance that it really was ok for her to be here–that she wasn’t a nuisance etc. I could provide a sympathetic ear, so I let her talk.

I managed to get her to come downstairs with me so I could eat some supper while she continued talking, so all in all it wasn’t too bad, just long.

So when I finally got to my homework, I really wanted it to just be quick and mindless, but I guess that goes against the point of trying to learn a language, right? I did the basic exercises easily enough, but my professor assigned 2 different writings to do. I did one, but I’ve decided to blow off the other one for tonight. Bad student. Bad.