One of the great thing about doing so many flashbacks this week is that I can look back at things I haven't covered and try to mix them up in ways that show people the contrasts that exist there.
Tepotzlan is, as I've already said in my facebook album on the subject, a very new-agey town, where hippies and other outsiders have taken over to some extent. It has great mountains though, and some nice ruins. The new-agey thing is kind of fun actually, but...
It was different from my class experience with the indigenous side of Mexico in the same municipality, this time in the city of Amatlan. Visiting the house of Ignacio ("Nacho," a community leader in nearby Amatlan) with him explaining the conquest, the pre-hispanic history, the government's (in his opinion) useless projects and the role of religion, including a trip out to a sacred natural rock arch with pre-Nahua-era petrogliphs was definately one of my favorite experiences connected to classes.
I may have doubts about the fact that the Spanish left them with this land only because they had purchased it back. Like reservations in the U.S., I've since concluded that it is not the best agricultural fields, in spite of its sacredness. Yet somehow at the time I didn't consider such things.
Mexico has a complex relationship with its indigenous past. Often people try to throw it off in order to advance themselves, wanting to be culturally closer to Spain, France, or the U.S., a process hastened by the inquisition and now less violently by migration and globalized trade. Still, it remains among the things I find most appealing (and often hidden to U.S. eyes) about Mexico.
Showing posts with label Mexicans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mexicans. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Recycling Center
While here, I've seen and worked at San Anton's recycling center. It's almost completely independent of the government (which claims now to be helping) and sells independently to corporations.
The people who run it consider themselves against the private garbage collectors and their landfill (see "Dirty Politics" post for details) their way of resisting is to provide alternatives.
It's probably among the things that have most inspired me here. In spite of the environmental problems I see around me, people are making efforts to deal with them.
And, it's easy to forget that the problem of garbage disposal is coming about as a result of U.S. buisinesses promoting disposable items here. If anything I think that some Mexicans here are at times ahead of us by being "behind" us.
Gathering rainwater is a necessity. Urban agriculture isn't just "gardens" for the concerned rich, it's people raising chickens in their own lawns. You can still get Coke bottles refilled here at many "Abarrotes" and restaurants. Some people even collect water in a bucket during showers to use for their lawns, rather than using sprinklers (a good choice given water shortages). Sidewalks are on both sides of the street. The list goes on and on.
I almost fell into the trap of complaining about every environmental problem we have here, and that list goes on and on too. If I do that, I'll try to be sure to backdate it before this post, or at least link to it. The developing world may at times appear mad "backwards." In reality they are often more "forwards" than the developed world. I'm glad to be studying here.
Soccer on a Baseball field?
This happened a good deal earlier, near the beginning. I'm putting it here so that I will remember. When it happened I'm not in any way sure. In any case it's a fun story.
A few other students and I were looking for a place to play soccer. As it happened, the soccer fields were already taken. The baseball field had only informal practice. So we played there.
The baseball coach and a few baseball-playing kids joined in on our game (as I said the practice was informal). Our teams were both pretty mixed between Mexicans and U.S., not divided along those lines.
What struck me was that here we were as U.S. people playing soccer on a Mexican baseball field. Something about that seemed very ironic.
A few other students and I were looking for a place to play soccer. As it happened, the soccer fields were already taken. The baseball field had only informal practice. So we played there.
The baseball coach and a few baseball-playing kids joined in on our game (as I said the practice was informal). Our teams were both pretty mixed between Mexicans and U.S., not divided along those lines.
What struck me was that here we were as U.S. people playing soccer on a Mexican baseball field. Something about that seemed very ironic.
Taxistas
It's become so commonplace that I rarely ever think about it: taking taxis. During my homestay time I took them to avoid being late (although the bus, if I could find it, was cheaper). Now I take taxis to avoid being stuck in rain.
Riding in a Taxi with friends or homestay family the Taxista ignores us, generally. Yet riding alone, I nearly always wind up chatting.
It's a great way to practice my Spanish, which I've heard from Taxi drivers is pretty good at this point. Starting out, I had problems with the difference between "derecho" (straight) and "derecha" (right) which used to lead to problems. Now I can talk easily.
The Taxi drivers are usually eager to talk and sometimes start the conversations themselves. It's something I hope to come back to. The headlines nearly always portray Mexican-U.S. contacts as violent. The reality is that most Mexicans I've met are eager to chat and eager to please foreigners. Given the dollar-to-peso rate this should surprise no one.
They nearly always want to know where I'm from originally. I'm happy to tell them Tennessee, which is famous here for Elvis (who lived in the one part of the state I've not been to, although I'm happy to share the same birthday).
I often ask if they've been to the U.S. Often they have, although East Tennessee hardly ever. California seems to be the state I hear most often, although once I met a Taxi driver who had been as far north as Idaho.
Once I was asked whether or not I thought Mexican women were pretty. I honestly answered "Yes." I've had similar conversations with other non-Taxi-drivers, some of them finding it strange that I actually prefer brown-eyes to blue ones. I've heard the Spanish conquest imposed a standard of beauty here that only gets reinforced by U.S. media.
Mostly though taxi-drivers just wonder what brings me here. I've learned to focus primarily on telling them that I study Spanish, which is part true. Somehow I've never felt comfortable saying "Migracion y Globalizacion." Then of course there's trying to explain that back in the U.S. I study Creative Writing. My lack of a clear future plan is also a little bit of a problem too for some. I've never heard anyone particularly say that they were confused by my answers but I've sensed it.
I've told some here that I want to teach English in a Spanish-speaking country. For a while that seemed the most promising option. I've met one woman here who does that, while being a writer on the side. The only problem is that I like the U.S. in some ways. As much as I love certain things about Mexico, there's just something wrong about coming into other as a foreigner. I especially don't know if being involved in other countries' politics would even be right for someone like me.
I told all this to one particular Taxi driver, and he said that I should translate books from Spanish to English, or maybe even write the full history of Mexico for U.S. audiences (he sensed my interest in the history of the places we were going through). In the meantime though I could always become the first comercial Nopal (cactus for eating) grower in Tennessee. I've heard they require almost no work.
Riding in a Taxi with friends or homestay family the Taxista ignores us, generally. Yet riding alone, I nearly always wind up chatting.
It's a great way to practice my Spanish, which I've heard from Taxi drivers is pretty good at this point. Starting out, I had problems with the difference between "derecho" (straight) and "derecha" (right) which used to lead to problems. Now I can talk easily.
The Taxi drivers are usually eager to talk and sometimes start the conversations themselves. It's something I hope to come back to. The headlines nearly always portray Mexican-U.S. contacts as violent. The reality is that most Mexicans I've met are eager to chat and eager to please foreigners. Given the dollar-to-peso rate this should surprise no one.
They nearly always want to know where I'm from originally. I'm happy to tell them Tennessee, which is famous here for Elvis (who lived in the one part of the state I've not been to, although I'm happy to share the same birthday).
I often ask if they've been to the U.S. Often they have, although East Tennessee hardly ever. California seems to be the state I hear most often, although once I met a Taxi driver who had been as far north as Idaho.
Once I was asked whether or not I thought Mexican women were pretty. I honestly answered "Yes." I've had similar conversations with other non-Taxi-drivers, some of them finding it strange that I actually prefer brown-eyes to blue ones. I've heard the Spanish conquest imposed a standard of beauty here that only gets reinforced by U.S. media.
Mostly though taxi-drivers just wonder what brings me here. I've learned to focus primarily on telling them that I study Spanish, which is part true. Somehow I've never felt comfortable saying "Migracion y Globalizacion." Then of course there's trying to explain that back in the U.S. I study Creative Writing. My lack of a clear future plan is also a little bit of a problem too for some. I've never heard anyone particularly say that they were confused by my answers but I've sensed it.
I've told some here that I want to teach English in a Spanish-speaking country. For a while that seemed the most promising option. I've met one woman here who does that, while being a writer on the side. The only problem is that I like the U.S. in some ways. As much as I love certain things about Mexico, there's just something wrong about coming into other as a foreigner. I especially don't know if being involved in other countries' politics would even be right for someone like me.
I told all this to one particular Taxi driver, and he said that I should translate books from Spanish to English, or maybe even write the full history of Mexico for U.S. audiences (he sensed my interest in the history of the places we were going through). In the meantime though I could always become the first comercial Nopal (cactus for eating) grower in Tennessee. I've heard they require almost no work.
Monday, March 2, 2009
No digas Amen!
This happened a few sundays ago, when I was struggling more with Spanish. Apparently I'm quite fluent with it now, according to Rosaurio my current Spanish teacher. Anyways, just a nice "Gringo Idioto" story to put down while I'm here at Casa Verde with less other people using the wireless network. For the purposes of this blog my own religious views do not matter. Assume if it amuses you, that I worship Quetzicoatl.
Anyways: I went to the Pentacostl church down the street. I figured Penticostals are becoming more and more a part of Mexican culture, and I'd already visited the Catholic church down the street. It seemed a good way to meet people and learn Spanish also.
I'm slightly late, realize that I'm sitting on the wrong side, and move over to the mens' side. The seating consisted of plastic chairs. Just as at the Catholic church that I'd visited earlier, they lacked hymnals and seemed to sing from memory. Also similar to the Catholic Church that I had visited, they had a band with a keyboard and electric guitar. They were more call-and-response oriented though.
At one point the preacher asked us to raise our hands if we had lost all sense of hope in the world. I didn't catch what the question was so I raised my hand. No one else did.
The man next to me (whom I later learned had found Jesus while working as a landscaper in Texas) wispered to ask me what was up. I wispered to him that Spanish was not my first language.
He invited me to the church cena that night, and explained it to me there. It was tortas with beans and cheese, and (in some cases) spicy peppers. He said he hated the food and had only taken his torta to be polite, so he gave it to me. Personally I preferred the food at Cemal, but I As I recall, he said something (in broken English) about trying to learn dirty words in indiginous dialects before finding Jesus. I clearly got that he continued landscaping work here in Cuernavaca.
Anyways: I went to the Pentacostl church down the street. I figured Penticostals are becoming more and more a part of Mexican culture, and I'd already visited the Catholic church down the street. It seemed a good way to meet people and learn Spanish also.
I'm slightly late, realize that I'm sitting on the wrong side, and move over to the mens' side. The seating consisted of plastic chairs. Just as at the Catholic church that I'd visited earlier, they lacked hymnals and seemed to sing from memory. Also similar to the Catholic Church that I had visited, they had a band with a keyboard and electric guitar. They were more call-and-response oriented though.
At one point the preacher asked us to raise our hands if we had lost all sense of hope in the world. I didn't catch what the question was so I raised my hand. No one else did.
The man next to me (whom I later learned had found Jesus while working as a landscaper in Texas) wispered to ask me what was up. I wispered to him that Spanish was not my first language.
He invited me to the church cena that night, and explained it to me there. It was tortas with beans and cheese, and (in some cases) spicy peppers. He said he hated the food and had only taken his torta to be polite, so he gave it to me. Personally I preferred the food at Cemal, but I As I recall, he said something (in broken English) about trying to learn dirty words in indiginous dialects before finding Jesus. I clearly got that he continued landscaping work here in Cuernavaca.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Last Week´s Homestay (in summary).
Last week we had the rural homestay. I stayed with fellow-student ¨Goose¨ (real name Josiah) at the house of Raul, a former migrant to the U.S. (he worked at Wendy´s during his time there) and current repairer of electric appliances. He was happy to have us stay with him, so that he could review his basic English vocabulary.
His son-in-law, also named Raul, was the commissioner for the ejido. A note of explaination: An ejido is a piece of land given by the government to rural residents. Under current laws they can be bought and sold. Raul´s job is to co-ordinate local and national policy´s governing the ejido. He always followed our group wherever we went and whomever we talked to during class sessions in his town.
In short the groups that we talked to and visited included government officials, small-scale commercial farmers (of shugarcane, figs, and, tomatos) and cooperative workers who raised various animals, most notably organic chickens. We talked with a group of people who had migrated (with varying legal statuses) to the U.S. It struck that the one who had worked in Agriculture in Salinas had never heard of Cesar Chavez, but he did say that he hadn´t worked there very long.
At the town center I played basketball with some local children. It struck me also that basketball seems more popular here than in the U.S.
The town was generally supportive of PAN (Mexico´s more ¨right-leaning¨ party, which encourages trade with the United States). It wasn´t for any large reasons though, mostly just because of the loans for tomato greenhouses they had recieved. Antonio, one of my professors explained that Mexican politics is very personal and paternalistic, relying on what we in the U.S. would call ¨handouts.¨
We also met with some recipients and local leaders Madres de Opportunidad, a group of mothers who recieve government assistance. They cannot recieve money if they have children in the United States. This has less to do with legality and more to do with money. Due to the rate of the peso to the dollar, people can work for very small amounts in the U.S. and come back with more money in Pesos for their family.
My own host family (perhaps due to work in the U.S.) had a synthesizer (keyboard) a DVD burner and a PS2, but no shower. It was alright with me. I learned to prefer bucket baths anyway.
His son-in-law, also named Raul, was the commissioner for the ejido. A note of explaination: An ejido is a piece of land given by the government to rural residents. Under current laws they can be bought and sold. Raul´s job is to co-ordinate local and national policy´s governing the ejido. He always followed our group wherever we went and whomever we talked to during class sessions in his town.
In short the groups that we talked to and visited included government officials, small-scale commercial farmers (of shugarcane, figs, and, tomatos) and cooperative workers who raised various animals, most notably organic chickens. We talked with a group of people who had migrated (with varying legal statuses) to the U.S. It struck that the one who had worked in Agriculture in Salinas had never heard of Cesar Chavez, but he did say that he hadn´t worked there very long.
At the town center I played basketball with some local children. It struck me also that basketball seems more popular here than in the U.S.
The town was generally supportive of PAN (Mexico´s more ¨right-leaning¨ party, which encourages trade with the United States). It wasn´t for any large reasons though, mostly just because of the loans for tomato greenhouses they had recieved. Antonio, one of my professors explained that Mexican politics is very personal and paternalistic, relying on what we in the U.S. would call ¨handouts.¨
We also met with some recipients and local leaders Madres de Opportunidad, a group of mothers who recieve government assistance. They cannot recieve money if they have children in the United States. This has less to do with legality and more to do with money. Due to the rate of the peso to the dollar, people can work for very small amounts in the U.S. and come back with more money in Pesos for their family.
My own host family (perhaps due to work in the U.S.) had a synthesizer (keyboard) a DVD burner and a PS2, but no shower. It was alright with me. I learned to prefer bucket baths anyway.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
