Stream of thought: one week left

Mexico has had the power to evoke my dark side. I have never stabbed so many macho chauvinists with my eyes. I have never so often mentally screamed “grow some balls lady!” or thrown so many under-my-breath expletives. Isn’t that horrible? Psychologist Caroline says that my attitude of “scream at them, maybe that’ll help” is born of feelings of helplessness. Like when I go running and I’ll hang my tongue out and let a line of spittle slip down my chin just so HE knows what I think of HIM, and HE is usually surprised although once HE asked me where the German embassy was, and several HEs asked me for the hour, and then HE came a few millimeters away from groping me. But now that I’m leaving, it all just boils down to a “cultural experience.” And that’s what always happened: anything different was “cultural.” But different didn’t always equate with bad. People are in-your-face good here too like the old man with the handlebar mustache who I can tell was once macho, but now cross-stitches on the corner and stops traffic to help us cross. And the flower vendors who gift Claire a flower whenever she gifts them the puppy-dog face. And the shoe-shining lady who always calls my kids “enojados” when they aren’t in the mood to talk, but that’s ok b/c she means well.

Yes Mexico, I will miss you, even the dark side you bring out in me. And I’ll miss your people, and your food, and your history, and your churches, and finally, your food. And I love that I never have to remember anyone’s name, it’s perfectly normal to call people “teacher,” “friend,” “sister,” etc.

Others: Even though Mexican traffic is of the devil, I never need to drive, because I can walk to school, the store, the park, and the best restaurants in the whole wide world. The year-round forecast is 100% perfect weather. The kids watch helicopters come and go as they eat dinner. After 8:30pm, there are 4 taco stands within half block of my house. At night I sit on the couch and look out over the illuminated skyline, sometimes see fireworks for no reason I know of. I fall asleep as I watch airplanes fly in from the north and listen to the mariachi band playing at a restaurant across the street. Elijah falls asleep on the top bunk while watching the lights at the feria and the gigantic flag waving from the military base. Claire is finally speaking Spanish and even uses it in pretend play. Iris wakes up to the Mexican national anthem on the radio.

Honestly, what scares me most about moving is the realization that right now, in this very moment, my Spanish skills have reached their summit. I have always wanted to be a native speaker, but alas, I’m natively pasty-skinned.

On the other hand, I feel like I’ve tasted a bit of Mexico’s soul and I’m not sure I’ve done that yet in my own country. It’s like teenagers who find their parents dull and dumb, not because they are, but because there is no appreciation for the mundane, the every day.  They don’t delve and realize their parents made a few pipe bombs in their day or had religious awakenings or were professional pole dancers. I’m ready to get back to the motherland and act like a tourist in my own country. It’s time to fall in love with my own history and food (however bland it may be) because it’s my heritage and my history, my “cultural experience.”

OEM #7: Mexico City

Finally back home. My mom has never been to el DF, so we took them to all the important sites.
Teotihucan

the obsidian store where we were we were taught how to make pulque from agave plants:

My dad didn't go prepared and had to take his sandals off on the way down.

Balet Folklorico at the Palacio de Bellas Artes. The stage "curtain" is a stained glass foldable panel created out of nearly a million pieces of iridescent colored glass by Tiffany's in New York. This stage curtain is the only one of its type in any opera house in the world and weighs 24 tons.

One dance had several big-headed costumed people who came out into the audience. David was absolutely sure this clown would murder someone.

I have been wanting to visit the anthropology museum for a long time. The museum is huge (20 acres) and has thousands of artifacts.

Another must-do in Mexico city is take pictures at the angel wings statue.

The main church in the Zocalo. David asked why this Christ is black. The receptionist told him that a murderer confessed his sins to a priest who prayed to this Christ every day and kissed the feet. The murderer was afraid that the priest would turn him over to the police so he put poison on the feet, but when the preist went in for a kiss, the feet moved. The murderer saw this miracle and became a good man. The poison turned the statue black.

 

Ruins and museum of the Templo Mayor

Palacio Nacional

The most surprising moment of the vacation for me was that I thoroughly enjoyed Lucha Libre (Mexican wrestling). Side note: I am not in a trailer park as I write this, nor do I own a monster truck. It was a finely choreographed show of acrobatics and acting. Throw in midgets dressed as a blue monkey and a fusion of a parrot and the hulk, and you got yourself dagnabbit entertainment! The luchadores were truly talented in their use of the slapping, taunting, and profanities. One luchador kept spitting loogies in the air and then catching them in his mouth. I think Elijah and I were the only ones who truly appreciated it. My mom plugged her ears for a good portion and Claire just wanted to sleep. But E has been doing push-ups and jumping jacks ever since. He has also refused to ride his bike or scooter to school lately, opting for running since it’s better exercise. His goal is to become a luchador by the age of 16, which I fully support.

OEM #6: Queretaro

OEM #5: San Miguel de Allende

Pardon the overload of pictures lately. I have had to go through about 1200 pictures from our 2 weeks of vacation. I like them all too much and since we are moving soon, I feel the pressure to get these posted already! And I am far from done--aren't you excited?

Revving up for Grandma and Grandpa

We picked them up and went straight to the Basilica.

The next day we drove to San Miguel de Allende.

The voyeur. There was a wedding at the beautiful church above and my dad was absolutely fascinated. Maybe it comes from reading the wedding and funeral section of the Picayune for so many years (there was a funeral here immediately after).

Cruising the town in style.

Las Iris in front of "El Iris."

On Sunday afternoon we took a short trip to Atotonilco. From this church Miguel Hidalgo took the flag as he championed the insurgency in 1810.



The ceiling wasn't as incredible as the one in Oaxaca, but close.

Overlooking San Miguel de Allende the night before we left.

OEM #4: Oaxaca

The drive to Oaxaca was long, but fairly painless since the twisty mountainous part David suffered alone while the rest of us slept. That’s a good man. As the sun was setting, we drove through a huge field with hundreds, maybe thousands of windmills.

With the time change, our kids got up at 5am pretty consistently throughout the trip—just what we wanted on vacation. So Dia de Muertos morning, we had Oaxaca to ourselves.

Church of Santo Domingo de Guzmán is the most beautiful church I’ve seen in Mexico. It took 2 centuries to build. The ceilings are what make it so awe-inspiring. They are ornate and leafed in gold. During the revolutionary wars the leafing was scraped off, but later re-applied.

Gotta get the Saints symbols in there for David. All benches had the fleur de lis.

Hide and seek in the once monastary, now museum.

Then we went to the market to stock up on David's favorite hot chocolate. He also tried the worms and baby Iris tried the baby grasshoppers. We just peered at the chicken legs.

 These altars were found in most buildings in Oaxaca: covered in flowers, skulls, candles, pictures of dead loved ones, and offerings of their favorite foods.

The Pantheon (name of the cemetery) was where the party was. It seemed like the whole city was there—crowded! People flowed in and out with buckets of water, scrubbing brushes, and brooms to clean the graves. Others with bundles of flowers to decorate. Mariachi bands, feasts, kids playing marbles on top of the sarcophaguses, and just sitting around having a good time.

Festivities at our hotel with beautiful Katrina dolls, and the altar:

There were several parades in the city center. This group paraded and then danced for a while in front of the Church of Santo Domingo.

Another parade

That night there was a fashion show with girls/women of all ages dressed up as Katrina. We skipped out early and went to a puppet show where E made up the 1-kid peanut gallery.

On the drive back home we passed through mountains covered with Saguaro cacti. It reminded me of where our new home will soon be.

Stopped for lunch in Puebla.

And then back home again, but only for a day. My parents came in town and we hit the road again...