Mexico #11 + US #1

No summer in Mexico City is complete without a dose of Diego Rivera. The last touristy things we did—besides shopping for artesania and going to see Harry Potter (in English with Spanish subtitles)— were to go to Anahuacalli, which Rivera built for his collection of pre-Hispanic art and artifacts, and the little museum downtown where his 1947 mural, Sueño de una tarde dominical en la Alameda Central, or Dream of a Sunday Afternoon on the Alameda, is housed. I remain impressed and a little disturbed by the sweep of his vision across history and into the future. These pieces are more on the impressive side, for sure. Anahuacalli is a work of art in itself, with some interesting mosaics by Rivera and great attention to Mayan and Mexica myths and architecture (mixed in with hammer-and-sickle motifs, of course). The collection Rivera established there includes a wide array of objects, some everyday and some ceremonial, in excellent condition for being 500 years old and older.

I'm now back in the US, still adjusting to speaking English to strangers. The weather in Michigan has been lovely so far (and very similar to Mexico City's), with highs in the upper 70s and some rain. I'm staying with friends who found the egg of a monarch butterfly 15 days ago, and we are now engaged in a vigil to see the resulting caterpillar break out of his skin and make his chrysalis. (I think caterpillars don't actually have a gender—it develops as part of their metamorphosis—but it doesn't seem right to call him “It.” Sarah has raised him from an egg and is even considering saving his surprisingly abundant poop for his Baby Book.) He's been hanging in J-formation since last night. It's very exciting yet also somewhat like watching paint dry. A strange paradox. Aaahh, he's wiggling all around and it looks like his head is going to pop off any minute!! Oh, he's still again. Poor guy. It must be so exhausting to try and burst out of your own skin. AAAHHH, it happened! I saw this!!


(Thank you, Evanson Art, for really detailed information and great photos on the life cycle of the monarch butterfly.)

The skin over his head split and he wiggled and wiggled it off of his three-centimeter body. It was SO CRAZY. His little legs wiggled off! Well, probably it was just leg-shaped skin. But what happened to his legs? How did he cover himself in a jade-green case under his stripey black and yellow skin? What went on in the 15.5 hours between letting go of the top of the jar and bursting like this? He's so little! Will he be a little butterfly? Do butterflies grow after they emerge? Wowowowow!!

Another friend started what he is calling his “America List,” of things he likes about America. I'm all for such a project; though it runs the risk of promoting American exceptionalism, I think it's important for us to constantly exhibit—and remember—our pride in America, as well as our most just criticisms. So it got me thinking, what would be on my list?

1. Stability of government. I am fascinated by the Supreme Court, and by many of the presidents we have had, but what I really appreciate is the structure that has been flexible enough to accommodate so much change in material realities as well as values. Political movements don't need to be revolutionary—in the sense of revolution that involves overthrowing the government—in order to affect change. I am very, very thankful for this. It may be easy for college students discovering radicalism to quote Che, but so many revolutions (and certainly Ernesto 'Che' Guevara's) are violent and come with so much loss—and bring only questionable gains. Thank you, America, for the Constitution and its amendments, for the Supreme Court, for George Washington and the peaceful transfer of power.


2. American music. Most of the things I like about America are not things that I feel need to be justified as uniquely American; they can be true about other countries and still be things I like about his one. I guess this is true about music as well, but honestly, who can compete? The blues, jazz, soul, hip hop ... I was shopping in a market in Mexico City and purchased a picture frame. As she wrapped it for me, the attendant pulled out the photo of Angelina Jolie. I jokingly said, “I don't get to keep it??” She went on to question Angelina's capacity to be a good mother, then to raise a lament for Michael Jackson's children. American pop culture is not only everywhere, it's dominant in most countries I can think of (at least in urban areas). I'm not proud of High School Musical, and especially after watching his memorial, I feel at best ambivalent about MJ as a person. But he was an incredible artist, and I'm proud to be proud of the musical tradition that he is part of.


3. Diversity. It is awesome to be part of a culture that has attracted people with so many different backgrounds, and even though it hasn't always welcomed these people, it has incorporated their beliefs, customs, and cuisines to the point where the mixture itself is what defines it. This encourages a kind of constant cultural renewal and rethinking. And it tastes good.


4. Natural resources. The sheer size of the US, with coasts on two oceans and all kinds of prairie, plains, and mountains in between makes it beautiful—and an economic powerhouse that is pretty darn pleasant to live in. We get to have things like water fountains. It is fantastic.


5. Barack Obama and his entire multi-continental family. I feel like this is my country in a way that I never have before, for so many reasons. Thank you, America—and the Bush Administration—for giving me this chance.

The caterpillar/chrysalis shrank! The top half got all smushed, and now it's only 1.5 cm! Wow little guy. You are amazing.

Yale Bologna Fest, here we come!

Mexico #10

We spent last week in Merida, in the northwestern part of the Yucatan Peninsula. Went there to visit with Patrick's dad and his wife (George and Susy). Susy is from Mexico and lived in Merida for some time, and they've bought a house there to live in part-time. Her sisters live there now, and they are really very sweet. Highlights of the Yucatan include: Mayan ruins, fresh fish everywhere, some lovely beaches, and interesting wildlife. Our itinerary:

Monday: Lunch at 100% Natural, a chain restaurant with lots of fresh juices and whole grains. Went to Chedraui, a huge Wal-Mart like store, to stock up on groceries and miscellaneous household items. Spent some time deliberating on which cheese would make the best quesadillas.

Tuesday: Ruins at Dzibilchaltun. At the equinoxes, the rising sun shines precisely though the doorway in the main temple (at left). My fav part was the cenote, where we swam and were nibbled upon by the little fish. Though it is shallow enough to wade in on one end, it extends down some 44 meters on the other side. In this flat, salt-water dominated landscape, cenotes were once essential sources of fresh water. Some of them are connected by underground rivers (as suggested by the helpful diagram below) with caves that you can tour, but we didn't do any of that on this trip. We did go to the beach at Progreso, where the wind is strong and the water of the Gulf is warm as anything. Delightful swim.

Wednesday: Home Depot. (Merida is full of American and American-style developments.) George and Susy's house is still coming together. We got a drill bit to go through the concrete walls (everything is concrete) and some other odds and ends. Then to downtown Merida, where we enjoyed a free exhibit of incredible Goya prints at an art center of some kind. He really engraved a wide range of horrified/horrifying expressions. Observed that parts of the downtown still have some colonial-era beauty, but overall it is on the dirty, hot and crowded side of things.

Thursday: More ruins. Opted for the less-crowded Uxmal over Chichen. The pyramid was big and there were enormous iguanas everywhere. Looking at the pictures, I realize how neat a place it is (somehow, the feel of it reminded me of the Getty Museum), but at the time I was very hot (temperatures reaching above 100 degrees Fahrenheit) and bothered by mosquito bites. This was before I discovered Avapena (cloropiramina, it says), a medication that replaces the hormone that my body is missing to help it process bites without blowing up, or something. As with all medications in Mexico, it is sold over the counter, and I got it on the recommendation of a veterinarian (and excellent chef) who is Susy's brother-in-law. Now I have it and I feel much better. Anyway there is a Mayan pyramid at Uxmal that was supposedly built and re-built five times, each time larger. We saw an old photograph and realized that the current restoration is quite significant, from repairing broken walls to landscaping.


Friday: Flamingos! Did I say it was flat and salty? These conditions are perfect for the tall pink birds, and even though peak season for their migration doesn't come until August, we saw dozens of them, dunking their heads in the shallow lakes, napping on one leg, ignoring the cormorants, and generally looking much cooler than they do in the zoo. Also, we hadn't seen enough ruins yet, so we took a short turnoff marked Zona Arqueologica: Xcambo. It was actually my favorite site; the smaller scale made it much easier to imagine the way people would have lived there (and I was on Avapena). If Chichen Itza were New York, Uxmal might be Chicago and Xcambo might be Albany. Friday was further packed with a search for the perfect beach, which we very nearly found in the form of a stretch of shore served by the restaurant Bella Mar, owned by a Korean-Mexican couple. More warm, warm water, lots of beautiful shells, a strong breeze keeping things cool (and mosquitoes off!), and yummy fish dishes. We had to walk some 30 feet out to reach water deep enough to swim in, which meant that there was lots of shallow water to explore. We found a starfish!


Saturday: We left Merida just as Master Ou arrived. He is at the center of a pangu qigong conference that Susy worked hard to plan while the rest of us played at the ruins and the beaches.

I think I've gotten the hang of putting pictures on my blog, but it's always hard to tell how they'll show up on screens with different dimensions (but remember, you can always click on an image to see it larger). Also, blogging takes forever! I have other stuff to do, man. Before I go, here's one more photo, of a small but brilliantly colored lizard.

Mexico #9

We got away from the city for a wonderfully long weekend in Malinalco. It was only a day and a half, but the time stretched the way it does when there's no TV and no internet. The town is in a little valley, and it is famous for a Mexica (Aztec) temple carved into the side of one of the surrounding mountains. The 90-minute bus ride there was striking, passing through a type of landscape that I have never seen before in Mexico: incredibly lush and green but not yet tropical--in contrast with the dry northern deserts I'm used to--and full of small farms, with their sheep, dogs, horses, donkeys.



We walked up to the temple and enjoyed not only the ruins but the beautiful views. Signs on the path were trilingual, in Spanish, English and Nahuatl (the indigenous Mexica language), but we didn't hear any of the latter during our stay. Left: A wall of a pyramid some 15 feet tall. Center: The town. Right: The mountains.

Mexico #8

Spending this summer in Mexico, again based in Mexico City. (The #8 marks the continuation of my Mexico series from 2007; this is absolutely a way of copping out on giving my blog posts creative titles.) Our address is Calle General Juan Cano 129, #202; you can actually find it on Google Maps! The apartment belongs to our friend Alma, whose class Patrick TAed last year and who is an excellent, excellent writer. She has a wikipedia page! Anyway, we're staying in an apartment left vacant by her regular tenant for the summer.

The kitchen is behind Patrick. The front door is to his right, the bedroom is to his left, and there is a den (with futon and TV) across from the bedroom. If Patrick looked up, he would see the living room. For contrast, see the photo of the hostel basement where we stayed in 2007.



The first week was not particularly eventful, but we did do a small amount of sightseeing, including a visit to the Torre Latinoamericana downtown. When it was built in the 1950s, its forty-four floors made it the tallest building in Latin America. An artist has planted a bamboo+fern garden in front of it.

If you are wondering what Mexico City looks like, here are some views from the tower. First, some taller buildings and the big park, Chapultepec. (The park's name is based on the Aztec word for grasshopper; for photos of the gorgeous late-colonial castle there, see this blog post.) Next, some shorter, more typical buildings, and the main plaza. You can glimpse mountains in the distance, which ring the city; they should be much clearer, but there's a lot of air pollution.




And just for fun, from the tower as well:

Labor Day

We celebrated the holiday by driving to Iowa to see Patrick's mom. We had a wonderful time canoeing and swimming at Lake McBride; visiting with Patrick's friend, Grant, and his new fiancee, Liz (nice Ethiopian dinner at a very traditional restaurant called David's Place); and of course, chatting and eating with Mary and John. Another fascinating highlight was the amateur film of Patrick's great-uncle Tim, which Mary recently got a copy of on DVD. Tim has won awards for his work, which I can easily understand after seeing the Cadillac vs. Rambler short (titled "Beep Beep!" or something like that), the hour-long Yellowstone documentary, and the footage of family trips to the zoo (with voice over from two "sparrows"). So much has changed in the last half-century. For one thing, you don't have to haul as much gear to take video; for another, there are boardwalks now amongst the geysers, so you can't just stroll wherever you please around the crusty edges of the 180-degree water, and it's no longer acceptable, or even legal, to throw food to the monkeys and the polar bears (at the zoo, not at Yellowstone, as a nefarious comment would have you believe!--but the geysers are at Yellowstone. I don't know of any zoos that have managed to simulate those yet).

The best parts of the weekend were outdoors. I love the water. I've been worrying that I'm not really an outdoor person: I have a ten-degree range of temperature comfort, and the sight or sound of mosquitoes sends me running and skipping in a totally crazed way. But the weather this weekend was perfect (especially in the shade), and it wasn't too buggy in the places we went. I like paddling, although paddling a canoe is frustratingly inefficient compared to rowing. For whatever reason, it's important to me to exercise in the most efficient way, even if that gives me less of a workout. Anyway, I like using my whole body, and canoeing is just arms. I've been looking into getting a kayak; Patrick suggests that the two-bladed paddle involves your back more, and a kayak is clearly more maneuverable than a row boat. Places sell inflatable tandem kayaks for about $300, too, so that could be affordable! And an inflatable one would be easy to travel with, even in my Honda. Anyway, we'll probably rent one for a day and paddle around the Chicago River or something and see how we like it. My two kayaking experiences were in California, one in Tamales Bay in a closed-top (I enjoyed the challenge of flipping it over, getting out, righting it, and climbing back in, and it was a really neat thing to do with my dad and uncles), and one in ... what's the name of that estuary, I always forget ... by Monterey ... in an open top. There were lots of pelicans, seals, etc. My arms got tired. Anyway, there are a lot of lakes and rivers in this part of the world to be boating in, and having a little boat would help us take advantage of the most beautiful spots.


This is a picture of a bug. I don't really like insects (a little shiver goes up my spine every time Patrick picks up a "cute" little caterpillar), but you can't deny that they are CRAZY-looking creatures of endless variety. This one was hanging out on a railing at Matthiesen State Park, where we stopped on the way home from Iowa. We had a good time splashing in the creek, with its little waterfalls, and exploring a new place in general.

objets d'arte

My first week back at work. Included the annual overnight retreat to a board member's beach house in Indiana. Nice to see everyone. Learned a new card game!

I think this is my last post for Mexico pictures. Maybe second-to-last.

To start off with, some pre-Hispanic art objects. From the anthropology museum.




1) Teehee! A cat! Actually, that's just a guess. I don't remember what civilization this was from. One thing that's striking is how much trade and exchange they had, anyway. 2) Mom and I liked this vase. Easy to envision it for sale in a modern gallery. I wonder how many periods and places around the world it could plausibly seem to belong to. 3) I love the expression on these two friends. The one on the right reminds me of an anime character, but I can't figure out who.

Left: The 200 peso note, featuring the famous intellectual and nun, Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz (and Patrick's money clip, .925 silver with malachite inlay, very nice). I wonder how many countries have women on their currency. I guess we have Susan B. Anthony and Sacajawea on the dollar coins that no one uses.

Right: Mexico's version of Peeps? I hate the taste of those sugary marshmallow things, but these sure are cute.

Back to planning for the return of students!

Primary(ish) Colors

Driving around San Francisco, you'll see a house every now and then that's painted some totally absurd color: lime green, raspberry sorbet, you know what I'm talking about? Well, the exteriors in Mexico aren't that wild, but the interiors are often brighter than US ones (not counting my condo). We got to the top of some stairs, and the sun was shining through these leaves, against the red of their niche ... maybe my picture isn't so great, but it's at least a personal memento of perfect light.


All of these walls at the Museo de los Murales (Beatriz de la Fuente) are painted the same shade of yellow (including those in the foreground). The museum is beautifully designed, besides preserving and displaying original murals from the pyramids at Teotihuacan. I can't really imagine what the walls must have looked like when they were new, covered in plaster and colorful frescoes; it must have had such a completely different effect from the massive faces of broken rock that remain today. Maybe one day, the Sistine Chapel will be seen this way. Stripped of its paintings and stained glass, I'm sure it would still be impressive, but more than unrecognizable to us who have lived to see it as it is now.


In the Plaza de las Tres Culturas (the Three Cultures Plaza), there's a colonial-period church made with stones pulled from Aztec temples. The inside of the church is kind of creepy; when Patrick and I went in, it was filled with eerie music and weird blue light. The source of the light is lovely, though.

Mexico #7

My mom arrived in Mexico City last Tuesday. I've enjoyed showing her around while Patrick continued his archival research, and since of the two of us, I know more Spanish, it's forced me to practice speaking more (otherwise I rely on Patrick to do the talking, though I think my oral comprehension has improved somewhat). We've gone back to the Castillo de Chapultepec, the anthropology museum (this time, going through the rooms in their intended order; it makes so much more sense!), and the Palacio Nacional. I have so much to write about. The big highlight was the Ballet Folklorico performance at the Palacio de Bellas Artes. The energy, the costumes, the music, the variety of the dances were all wonderful. I'll write about that more later.

We just got back from a weekend in Taxco, the silver capital of Mexico. It's a picturesque town, with narrow, cobblestone streets--and it's nestled in the mountains, so it's full of twists and turns, each of which reveals a different view of red-tiled houses, mosaically domed churches, or lush green hills smothered in fog. In addition to sampling the city's best vegetarian food (crepes with Thai curry!), we did a fair amount of shopping for silver. The wholesalers give great deals, and many of the retailers have something unique to offer. Our favorite shop turned out to be the Lapidario Barrera. We bought a bunch of their jewelry, which incorporates pieces of pottery made in the Mexican state of Chihuahua (click on the Mata Ortiz link on their website).

Time for bed. Getting up early tomorrow to make the pilgrimage to Teotihuacan. More later.

Mexico #5

We took off for the weekend and went to Veracruz. Here's a simple map of Mexico, from the Perry-Castañeda Library Map Collection, to give you an idea of the geography. We are living in the capital (see the star) for most of the summer; Veracruz is a state and a city as well. We visited the city, on the Gulf Coast directly east of Mexico City.

It was almost miserable getting off the air-conditioned bus; while Mexico City has been in the 60s and 70s, the highs in Veracruz were in the 90s--and so humid! Getting to the beach was doubly relaxing and wonderful.

The mosquitoes got me. I don't think my paranoia about them made any difference. Swimming in the cool salt water of the Gulf was soothing, but the minutes out of the water have ranged from irritated to delirious. Patrick asked our hostel guy for advice and got a recommendation for this lotion which is, in short, a camphor-menthol marvel. I used it all over after I showered this morning, and it's basically very spreadable tiger balm. Wow, what a tingle. I'm sure the moisture makes a lasting difference, too. I am going to have to see if I can get some kind of shot to make me less allergic to mosquitoes.

So while we were on the coast, we had to eat seafood. We had some very nice white fish--and lots of fried plantains. So good! I don't know if you could prepare bananas quite the same way; Patrick claims that plantains have more starch. Anyway, I wanted to see what the other seafood was like, so I ordered some shrimp. I don't think of myself as too squeamish about food; after all, I'm used to seeing whole fish and chicken heads and all that on the table, and I've eaten sea cucumber and eel and corn fungus (I didn't like all of it, but that's not the point). But maybe being vegetarian, or the process of becoming vegetarian, has altered my thinking in ways I didn't realize. Eating those five shrimp was kind of difficult. I mean, I still enjoyed their flavor and texture and all; it wasn't that bad. And I know it wouldn't have been difficult at all if they hadn't been served whole; does that make me some kind of hypocrite? I mean, a shrimp is a shrimp, whether I have to cut the head off and shell it or someone else does. But all night, I kept thinking about the five animals I had just eaten. Does that mean I ate five livers? Do shrimp have livers? Hearts? Shrimp must have hearts, right? Did I eat them?

I've learned a lot of things by having a blog this summer. The writing process itself gets me to think a little more, and often, I do some research as I'm posting. So this time, I have learned about shrimp anatomy. Most of the shrimp's vital organs are located in its head (including the brain, bladder, stomach, and testis, according to this fun picture). Like the wimp that I am, I didn't eat the heads. So I guess I didn't eat all those organs--as if that's better in any substantive way. Yikes, just thinking about all this is freaking me out. Shrimp are so weird-looking. From an environmental standpoint, it's better to eat things that are lower on the food chain, so I guess it's better to eat shrimp than, say, tuna. Although I guess it depends a lot on where the animals are coming from and how they are caught. I've been trying to learn about the eco-friendliness of different kinds of seafood to plan our wedding menu; we want a vegetarian buffet with fish as the entree. (Hey now, "vegetarian" is not synonymous with "rabbit food." I promise, it will be delicious! I love to eat!) All the sources seem to agree that US-farmed seafood is better regulated and cleaner than seafood from other countries. But even some species farmed in the US should be avoided; farmed salmon, for example, is marked AVOID by the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch, while wild-caught Alaskan salmon is BEST, and wild-caught Pacific salmon is GOOD. You can look up a lot of seafood on the Seafood Watch Seafood Guide. Another website that has been useful for me is the Blue Ocean Institute's Guide to Ocean Friendly Seafood.

This post has turned out to be less about Mexico than about seafood. Well, you can read more about what we did in Veracruz on Patrick's blog. He has some nice pictures up. He didn't really write about the beach; we left the city after a day and took a couple of buses to Chachalacas. It's frequented by Mexican tourists, and purely in terms of the quality of water and sand, it's not that nice compared to somewhere like Cancun. But it has a nice family atmosphere (whereas Cancun has a kind of Spring Break, Girls Gone Wild atmosphere), and it's not super crowded. Plus, as far as I'm concerned, any beach with water that you can swim in without worrying about getting sucked in by the undertow, dying of hypothermia, or contracting some kind of infection is pretty exciting. Chachalacas is also neat in that you can walk about 5km up the beach to some sand dunes. I'll have to get my pictures from Patrick's camera to post. ... and here's one now!


Most of the beach has little restaurants, hotels, etc. on relatively flat land, instead of the greenery you see on these dunes. And most of the dunes are sandy without all the vegetation. We saw the same beetle tracks that cover dunes everywhere, and snake tracks, too!

We took a taxi from Chachalacas to Cempoala, a religious site that was built by Totonacs, perhaps six or seven hundred years ago. (Pretty amazing to think about, especially in contrast to where they are today: see a picture of their flying performance for tourists that Patrick took outside the anthropology museum.) The Aztecs attempted to conquer them, but with only mild success; rebellion was frequent. Still, the structures and evidence of rituals at Cempoala show an Aztec influence. Anyway, when Cortes arrived on the Gulf Coast, the Totonacs made an alliance with the Spanish and were instrumental in fighting the Aztecs. Too bad so many of them died from disease epidemics. I wonder what their society would be like if more Totonacs were alive today. Maybe it wouldn't even exist as a recognizably separate entity? Or maybe it would be very similar to what it is now, a curiosity for tourists, just on a larger scale. My impression is that the indigenous communities in Mexico that have preserved traditional lifestyles are basically impoverished. I don't know that much about it.

The underemployment in this country was clearer than ever on this trip. In the City (people here call the capital Mexico), you see a lot of people selling food on the street and random stuff on the Metro (flashlights, CDs, gum, whatever). At the beach, there were also a lot of people selling clothes with "indigenous" designs (I don't know how much they've been altered toward tourist tastes) for super cheap, yet hardly anyone was buying. I wonder how much they have to sell in day to support themselves, and how much they actually sell. We took a taxi back to the beach from Cempoala, and as we got into conversation, the driver started telling us about his disillusionment with the Mexican government and economy. He has a BA in some kind of humanities field from the University of Veracruz, and he's working the only job available, driving a taxi. I guess it's not surprising, in this context, that more Mexicans don't bother going to college--and that there are fewer opportunities to do so than in the United States.

Also he loves basketball and Michael Jordan. But I don't think he's considering immigrating. I thought about asking him if he's thought much about moving in general, since he's living in a semi-rural area (the main crop is sugarcane), but I couldn't find the right way to phrase it.

More pictures to follow.

Mexico #4

You might be thinking that it's time for me to get more creative with my titles here. Well, it's not happening. Maybe later. Not.

So the biggest thing to happen to me in the last few days has been: I got a cold. You might expect that being here in the "Third World" (not really), I would get some exotic disease. But no. A sore throat, runny nose, fever, hacking cough. Boo. You may be pleased to know, Dad, that I got myself some chicken noodle soup at the VIPs. It's a funny chain. Don't be fooled by the fact that it's called VIPs. It was pretty exciting to get to watch the first (or maybe second?) Harry Potter movie while we ate, though. I also learned, thanks to the lovely placemat, that VIPs is owned by Wal-Mart de Mexico, which has earned a good business award for the 7th consecutive year here. Based on their ethical standards, close ties to communities, good treatment of employees, and care for the environment. According to the placemat. ??

I stayed in bed all day on Thursday. I kept asking Patrick to get a thermometer--I had the fevered idea that if he could see how hot I was, he would have to get a doctor. We didn't have a thermometer, but he did go get me some medicine at the farmacia. Apparently, he also asked me several times if I wanted to see a doctor, and I told him no every time. By the way, I just heard on Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me! that a new study has shown that the couples with the happiest marriages are those in which the woman gets her way most often. Did you catch that one, honey?

Anyway, I'm totally done with the fever. I even spent all of Saturday out! We got together with three other people from the University of Chicago (I didn't realize it, but the department is very strong in Mexican history, so many of the students are either finishing their year abroad here or are visiting for summer research, as Patrick is). One of them is Mexican, and his mom lives in Mexico City, so he drove us all to Tlalpan. It seemed like another city, but it's actually just another neighborhood. Sadly, he made an illegal U-turn and got a ticket! Well actually, no one gets tickets here. You get pulled over (for legitimate reasons), the cop tells you the fine and says your car will have to be impounded for 24 hours. You say, "Oh, man, is there anything else I can do?" and then they give you the option of giving them some amount of cash less than the fine. Plus you avoid the impounding. So we paid about the equivalent of $45 to avoid all the trouble. Apparently it's a very uniform system; last time this happened to Carlos, he said the cop said almost exactly the same lines, word for word. At the end of the day, they go back to the station and their superiors require a certain fee from them, depending on how busy the intersection where they were stationed generally is. What a system.

So this is why we went to Tlalpan in the first place. It's a convent, designed by Luis Barragan. He's the most important Mexican architect in the Modernist style--sort of a Frank Lloyd Wright of Mexico, in terms of fame and influence. His buildings are minimalist, and it was interesting to see how this would work in a convent. I thought it was very effective, actually. His use of color (walls painted pink, orange, etc.) and light created some very soft spaces, while the spareness and lack of ornament in a relatively large space achieved basically the same effect as a Gothic cathedral; it makes the visitor feel quite small. Carlos observed that the architecture felt very controlling, very dominating to him. No room for your personal touches; everything exactly as the architect designed, right down to the kind of candle you burn. I don't know for a fact that Barragan was a controlling person, but it's not uncommon for famous architects to view their work as their art, not your living space. Anyway, we got a tour of the place from one of the nuns, but she kind of mumbled so I can't tell you too much about it. I didn't even take this picture (we weren't allowed to photograph the inside). I'm not sure who did, I just got it off the web. But the cross is painted the same color as the wall behind it. You only see it because of light and shadow. Isn't that neat?

Patrick has some more pictures of the convent, and more to say about Tlalpan, on his blog. His pictures are hot lately. Did you see the butterfly one? It's amazing!

Not much else to report. Went to the archives with Patrick, helped him take pictures of old newspaper articles, etc. Tried not to drip snot on them. Succeeded. Yes! Went to an outdoor market, bought mangoes, chiles, an onion. Cooked up some bean stew.

Now it is time to go to the bookstore. If I don't leave now, Patrick will go without me! And he was already so nice to come home with me this afternoon, when I was too tired to walk around the zocalo anymore. I'll have to post some pictures from the enormous cathedral there. Later.

Mexico #3

I am losing track of the days. I thought today was going to be Saturday; it turned out to be Monday. Fortunately, it doesn't matter much!

I am facing some confusion with this blog. I didn't start it to be a journal for an audience of one (me), but I feel like that's what it's becoming with this trip. Anyway, I hope you all find more interest in it than not. And by the way, if you're reading, hello, Uncle John.

Yesterday was Saturday. We went to Lucha Libre with Sara, who is a year ahead of Patrick at the U of C; Rebecca, a friend of Sara's from the US who is studying anthropology on the Mexico-Guatemala border; and Dan, who is Rebecca's husband. It's nice to have friends here.

So what is Lucha Libre. It is the Mexican version of WWF. I don't ever watch WWF, though, so it's hard for me to compare. These are things you need to know about it:

• There are good guys (tecnicos) and bad guys (rudos). Sometimes fighters can switch sides.
  
• Many luchadores wear masks, especially the tecnicos.
  
• Everyone goes to Lucha Libre. Mexicans go with their families, like Americans go to a ball game. People make signs to cheer on their favorite wrestlers.
  
  
• The rules are confusing and clearly stretched to favor the good guys. (I have never heard anyone almost count to three as slowly as the ref when Dos Caras Jr. was down)
  
• According to Sara: 1) Many luchadores get into it through family. Dos Caras Jr., for example, is probably the real-life son of the original Dos Caras. 2) Few luchadores make enough money to support themselves solely by wrestling, though there are stars who manage to do it.
  

We were lucky to go to a show at a smaller arena in the city, one with only 15 rows or seats (plus the balcony). It was only about half-full, too, so we got to move up from the 14th row to maybe the 7th, which made a big difference. (Sara estimated that at the other arena, where she usually goes, those seats would have cost about $30. We paid $8.) From that distance, I decided that even though a lot of the moves--and the "winners"--are choreographed or fake, there are real injuries, real danger, real strength, and even a few moments of real grace.

It's also full of drama. Some of the wrestlers are incredible hams. One curious example: Marco Corleone, whose picture is here. His real name is Mark Jindrak, and he is from the US. Lourdes Garcia-Navarro did a piece for NPR about foreigners in Lucha Libre, with a bit of an interview with him. He was in the 3-on-3 fight, just before the headliner, and so funny to watch. First of all, he's probably a foot taller than anyone else on stage--I mean, in the ring. Second, the ladies love him, and he has a habit of putting his hands behind his head and grinding his hips to their adoring screams. The best part was when his opponent, Sangre Azteca, did it to make fun of him. Ah, good times.

Dos Caras Jr. almost lost the title fight to Ultimo 2000 (who for some reason, had a horseshoe/cowboy theme?). Ultimo had a mean growl, which he kept flashing at the crowd as they cheered on Dos Caras (the good guy in the fight). I have no idea how he became so popular, but the entire stadium (which was, admittedly, small) was for this guy. There was a woman in front of us, there with her husband and kids, who just went crazy for him. The crowd started chanting, "Si se puede," which was a little weird for me; I learned this phrase at rallies, and in the US, it dates to Cesar Chavez and the UFW. I don't know what its connotations are in Mexico. It translates literally as, "Yes, it can be done!" I guess the spirit of it would be something like, "You can do it" or "Yes, we can."

We finally went to the grocery store. No peanut butter, but they do have Nutella. Nothing too remarkable about it. We'll have to go to a real market, probably, to get good produce. We're just starting to cook here at the hostel. It's a challenge. I miss having a kitchen--my own, clean, orderly kitchen--as much as anything else. I have been pretty impressed with the cleanliness of the city, though. Public transportation is not only cleaner but also far more convenient than in Chicago. Buses come every five minutes, it seems, and trains come more often than that. And they're still crowded. Interestingly enough, they reserve cars on the Metro just for women during rush hour. I guess because they get so packed.

We got some work done today, with Patrick's first visit to some archives. The people were very friendly and helpful. We also went to the Plaza de las Tres Culturas, the Plaza of Three Cultures. There are Aztec ruins right next to a colonial-era church, across from the modern Institute for Foreign Relations. I can't get over how the Aztecs built their temples, in layers and layers; there's no interior space, because they'd leave the old structure intact and build solid new walls over it, to make it bigger. So different from how I think of buildings. Anyway, part of why they're ruins is that some of their stones were taken to build the church, which also explains why the church and the ruins look eerily similar.

Our last big event of the day was the Palacio de Bellas Artes. Oh and how can I forget, a great lunch of street gorditas. I wouldn't buy a drink from one of those carts, but for less than 80 cents a person, you can eat pretty well. So, Bellas Artes is having a big celebration of Frida Kahlo, on the 100th anniversary of her birth. The place was PACKED. I couldn't believe it could be so full, on a Monday afternoon in the middle of the exhibition's run. The cult of Frida really started to get to me. She was a good painter, fine technically and very creative, very expressive, but her painting was so self-absorbed. But people need their idols, even if they have to invent them ... did I ever post my Photoshopped Kerry as Che? I'll have to look for that; I guess it was on my old computer.

Anyway, Bellas Artes is a pretty impressive place, and I decided it was absurd to say that Siquieros is so much better than Rivera. But Rivera's mural in the Bellas Artes, the one that he originally painted for Rockefeller but which was destroyed due as Communist propaganda, freaks me out. He was so wrong about the Soviet Union, the future of human society. I guess they all were.

I've given up on finding yarn here. Remind me to pack a whole lot when we're here for that year.

Mexico #2

You might say my entry titles are lazy. Well, you'd be right.

We spent all day yesterday in el Bosque de Chapultepec (the park with the castle from the day before in it), this time at the national anthropology museum: el Museo Nacional de Antropologia. (Spanish is pretty hard to understand, huh) The museum is gigantic. They cover a handful of pre-Columbian cultures, which I haven't learned to keep straight. I thought the Mexica (Aztec) pottery I was looking at was the best, but then I discovered that I was actually in the Oaxaca section of the museum. Whatever that means. Anyway, there were also monumental Mayan and Aztec sculptures that I had my fill of last time I was here. The top floor was dedicated to modern indigenous people. It provided some contrast to the Museum of the American Indian, which we saw in DC and did a much better job of avoiding the easy trap of portraying Indians as people of the past who had exotic customs but are no longer around (since they were the victims of our nation's history). The DC museum gave the exhibit's subjects (American Indians, in case you forgot) significant space to represent themselves, and had a great exhibit that connected traditions, politics and history to the present. The DF museum (de antropologia) had some mannequins wearing weird clothes, and also a video that I sort of slept through. But that was my fault. Anyway, what you really want to see are my pictures.

[Pictures will be inserted here once I get back to Chicago. Keep checking!]

We had a great evening with a dozen friends from the University of Chicago. Julia and her husband, Spiro, hosted a delicious dinner, and I'm always so impressed by how interesting and friendly that group of academics is.

Today, we went to Leon Trotsky's house in Coyoacan (a neighborhood, or colonia, of Mexico City). What a life. I'm so glad no one I know is an enemy of Stalin's. Trotsky's history in Mexico is also a striking reminder of how small the circle was; there was a lot of overlap amongst groups that now seem distinct. The same people were famous artists, intellectuals, and political figures. The muralist Siquieros led the first Mexican attempt on Trotsky's life. Before that, Trotsky was living with Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo.

After la Casa de Trotsky, we went to a strange Museum of Intervention. It is housed by a building that used to serve as a Franciscan monastery. Some of the exhibits show what monastic life there was like, but the main rooms basically deride Spain, France, and the US for "interventions" in Mexico (mostly invasions) in the last two centuries. It was kinda boring. Plus I was really hungry.

It's Tequila Night at the hostel. Not sure if we'll attend; I'm enjoying all the social activity, but we've had two late nights in a row already. And really, is the prospect of lots of drunk American college-age tourists (and a Czech guy who we met at breakfast who loves the Second Amendment, y un mexicano con su novia espanola) appealing at all?

Nap time. It's raining, hard.

Mexico #1

Hello from DF, Mexico's Federal District and the equivalent of DC in the United States. Patrick and I have arrived without any real incidents--though it was pretty hard to sleep last night, what with the handful of mosquitoes buzzing around (I hope we can buy a net today) and all the noisy neighbors in the hostel. The owners of the hostel are really nice, though, and they moved us. Most of the beds in the hostel are sort of dorm-style, where you share a room with random other travelers (can be a fun social experience). We had a private room last night, but the walls are paper-thin. Knowing that we are going to be here for a while, and that it is a work trip for Patrick versus a pure vacation, they offered us a private "room" downstairs. It turns out that we will have the whole floor to ourselves; it used to be a cafe, but there wasn't enough foot traffic to support it. We'll still have to go upstairs to shower, but look how many couches we have!

Today's highlight was our walk to Chapultepec Park. We were going to go the Museo Rufino Tamayo (contemporary art), but the way was blocked by a parade of PRDistas, the party of Lopez Obrador, who lost the Mexican presidential election by a very small and contested margin. It was hard to tell whether they're still protesting the election, just having a parade, or what. There were lots of flags. Anyway, we changed our plans and headed to the national history museum at el Castillo de Chapultepec (castle). "Chapultepec" means Hill of Grasshoppers in Nahuatl (an indigenous Mexican language).


The castle grounds were absolutely beautiful. We envisioned a lovely wedding there, but they probably don't rent it out since it is part of "our shared Mexican patrimony," or something like that. There are so many wonderful spaces, though; marbled patios, sculpted courtyard gardens, tiered staircases ...

It's easy to see how in a world like this, Alice could have dreamt up Wonderland. Apart from the grounds, there were several rooms preserved from the past; the castle was a residence for Maximilian and Carlota (Hapsburgs called on by the French to rule Mexico in 1864) and later, Porfirio Diaz. My favorite parts were the elevator (wow! who knew they had those back then) and the bathroom, with beautiful tiles that showed a strong Chinese influence (chrysanthemums, etc.).

Besides the glitzy look-at-the-castle bits, the museum also had several exhibits reviewing key moments in Mexican history, from pre-Colombian times to the Porfiriato, the dictatorship that resulted in Mexican modernization. I learned some things from the displays, but as usual, I loved the art most of all.

There was a heart-stopping mural by Siquieros, which wrapped around walls arranged in a trapezoid to almost completely surround you. I can't wait to go the Palacio de Bellas Artes again, where there are more of his murals. His painting is, for me, infinitely more powerful than Diego Rivera's, especially if you compare their most overtly political works. There was also a surprise jewel, by a painter I'd never heard of. I haven't quite figured out how to read Llegada de los generales Zapata y Villa a Palacio Nacional, by Canadian Arnold Belkin. But I love his way of painting time into this basically two-dimensional medium. This image isn't very good (one problem is that it's been flipped horizontally), but it's the best I could get.

I am now completely exhausted and hoping for a nap before we go party tonight. Oh, and I haven't even gotten to write about the squirrels. Next time.

Hasta luego.

Vancouver

We had a very nice trip to Vancouver with my parents. My mom's family had their first ever official reunion; I met lots of cousins who I'd never met, and got a chance to talk with people who I've always known but never very closely. The event organizers tried to seat us by generation, splitting up families to get us to mingle. I think it worked pretty well. There was also a fantastic DVD put together by my cousin Graeme, with some of the only pictures I've ever seen of my mom's parents. I loved seeing how my grandparents' generation looked when they were young; a lot of family resemblances that I'd never noticed suddenly started popping out.

I don't really have pictures of all the people. Somebody needs to send me some.

We drove, so in addition to all the extended family, Patrick (who was a very good sport as he was plunged into the Wong family for the first time, 76 at once) and I spent a lot of time with my parents. The redwoods were amazing, so ancient and awesome but also creating shady, almost intimate spaces. Seattle was a lot of fun, too. We went to the Pike Place Market and had delicious fresh cherries, and at a leftie bookstore, I found a good breakfast recipe. I'll have to share that some other time. We also visited the University of Washington. It was pretty. I would be pretty satisfied if Patrick got a job there.

Most of my pictures are on my camera, and I neglected to bring the cord to transfer them to my computer. But here's one that I took on Patrick's camera. Plants are pretty amazing. How do they survive this kind of drastic manipulation? This image is the best thing I've got on America's Best Value Inn in Eugene, OR. I guess the value was pretty good, too, if you don't mind having a bed that spills into the bathroom and peanuts on the floor. Okay, so it was only one peanut. It was still pretty discount.

Now we are in Mexico. My next post will be about that.

Escape from the City

Well, we succeeded in leaving Chicago for a few days of Spring Break. But only to find ourselves in 30-degree weather somewhere else! The landscape got greener as we drove south, and lots of dogwood was in bloom--but it SNOWED while we were in Kentucky. April in the South isn't supposed to be like that! Anyway, we had a nice time with Patrick's grandma (on the Iber side), who hosted us for two days, taking us to New Harmony, a 19th century attempt at a utopian community that now has picturesque old cabins, and several antique shops in Newburgh, the town where she lives. We bought a rocking chair that's supposedly from the 1830s-40s. It's beautiful, and comfortable, too. Grandma Liz fed us very well, and I really enjoyed getting to know her a bit.

We drove a little farther southeast on Friday, to Mammoth Cave. They don't allow people in the caves without a guide, and the tours were pretty crowded. We spent a little while walking around on the trails outside the caves (with freezing fingers and toes) and saw some interesting things, including sinkholes, the surface outlet of an underground river, and some frozen caterpillars. They look like they're moving, don't they? They were swarming all over each other on a twig, except that they were completely still. Patrick suggests that they might start moving again once it's warm enough. I hope they haven't been killed by the frost. It's kind of creepy.

I guess you'd probably expect to see some pictures of the cave, but I'm not going to post any. For one thing, I don't really like the way any of my pictures came out. Most of them are blurry, and everyone has already seen pictures of stalactites and stalagmites. (If you haven't, just do a Google Image search of "Mammoth Cave," or try this link to the Mammoth Cave National Park website.) Besides that, I was really struck by the effect when our guide had us all sit down (there were rows of benches in a large underground chamber) and then turned out all the lights. That's what a cave really looks like: totally black. There's something strange about illuminating it, even though there are some beautiful formations. Or maybe what's really weird is going through them with a hundred other people on a big tour. Anyway, I liked the tour we went on, but the only picture you're getting is of Patrick, sipping hot chocolate when we returned to the cold, cold surface. The caves themselves stay in the 50s all year. Oh another aspect of the the tour that was interesting: a kid asked the guide how old the caves are, and she gave two answers, which she presented as 1) what you get if you ask someone who thinks that the earth is 6000 years old (she did not make any reference to religion), and 2) what you get if you ask a geologist, someone who studies rocks and science. This got me thinking, how old do other major religions take the world to be? Leave me a comment if you know ...

Here's a final picture from Indianapolis, just to prove to you that it really was cold and I'm not just a wimp from California. Usually fountains don't freeze, because they're turned off in the winter. It is April, so I guess they turned this one back on thinking that it would be warm enough. The effect is cool, anyway.

Well, back to work! This should be an exciting month, in any case. Patrick's uncle, George, is coming to visit with kids Sophie and Annie; Na'amah is coming to Chicago for a conference; Patrick is going to DC for 2 weeks, and I'll go out for a weekend too to see Steve and Sanne! I'll keep you posted. Knitting pictures to come!

Home and home

School let out on December 22. On the 23rd, we flew "home" to the Bay Area. We spent two weeks wrapped in a whirlwind of feasts at all hours of the day with family and friends, returning to Chicago only yesterday. The picturesque highlights of our trip are featured below.

A small jellyfish, just bigger than a quarter, that Patrick found on the beach in Monterey Dunes. Look closely and you can see its insides! The Lem family rented a big house that ten of us shared happily--except for the traveling stomach flu that Josh, Patrick, and I all had about two days apart from each other (so someone was always sick :( ).

We spent a day hiking around Point Lobos State Park. There were lots of mushrooms!

I have a gazillion more photos, and I just chose these two randomly ... I'll write more later, when I feel more organized. Today is a day for running errands.
It was nice to see you, everyone! Happy New Year!

Hello!

Sorry I've been sort of out of touch. School has really picked up! I'm still not sure what my role as co-facilitator of the middle school officially entails, but I am finding plenty of little jobs here and there to keep me plenty busy. In any case, I'm much more satisfied with my job this year than last. I feel much more like an integral part of the school, part of the institution. One of my students asked me a few weeks ago how long I'd been teaching at YWLCS; when I told her that this was only my second year (same as her, since she's in 8th grade), she said, "Really?? It seems like you've been here for a long time!"

The girls have been very excited to hear about my engagement. They've been spreading the news; I'll be call a parent to tell them that their daughter has earned herself a lunch detention, and they'll pick up the phone and say, "Oh, Ms. Louie! Congratulations! Sonia told me you're getting married!" The other day, I was chastising a student for doodling instead of doing her work, and she looked at me with sad puppy-dog eyes and said, "But Ms. Louie, I'm trying to draw you a wedding dress."

Anyway, Patrick and I have been to some neat places over the last few weekends. Pictures and narratives are on his blog. I've also been enjoying reading about his uncle's travels. Uncle Bill is a teacher, and he's taken a year off for international travel. He's making a documentary about math teaching around the world and posting about his travels on his blog. I can't wait to see his footage! In the meantime, you can also read his posts on Mr. Bill.

Summer 2006

OK. On July 3, I took off from Midway to Tel Aviv, with a 7-hour layover in Newark. When I landed in Tel Aviv, Na'amah was at the airport to meet me. We took a train and a bus to her apartment, just two blocks away from the Mediterranean. We went swimming twice in the sea. The second time, I got stung (very minorly) by a jellyfish!

Tel Aviv is huge and modern. Lots of fancy hotels ... but also lots of tiny shops and crooked streets that give the city character. Here in the background, you can see Jaffa, the original fortress-city out of which Tel Aviv grew. Jaffa has a long history, dating from its founding by the Canaanites over 3600 years ago. It has since been ruled by ancient Egyptians, Romans, Christians who captured it during the Crusades, Napoleon, and the Ottomans. Not to mention modern Israel.

Our first destination: Jerusalem. The old city is walled in, and everything (including the pavement) is made of stone. Aggressive vendors try to sell you everything from backgammon boards to nargile to soccer balls to magnets. In some ways, it's picturesque, but in others, it's overwhelmingly touristy. Na'amah and I both bought beautiful tapestries pieced together by Bedouins, with amazing beadwork and embroidery. I'll post a picture of mine when I finally get around to hanging it ...

My favorite part of old Yerushalayim (Jerusalem in Hebrew) was the Temple Mount, which we were lucky enough to catch during a rare open period. The area surrounding the Dome of the Rock is like a park, where lots of women were sitting in the shade, watching their children play. At the same time, it's very quiet. The temple itself is beautifully tiled all around the outside. They don't let non-Muslims enter, a policy I understand and respect.

I have more pictures, but you would probably be able to find their equivalent or better by doing a Google image search. In fact, I just did, and here is my favorite. From one Kristine Grumme. She has some very nice images. Looking at them makes me realize that one thing I'd like to work on in my own photography is photographing people. With their permission, of course--though I suppose language barriers can make that somewhat complicated. My book of the month is Guatemala, photography by Jorge Aramburu paired with poetry (in both English and Spanish) by Humberto Ak'abal.

The Dead Sea was the next stop. We passed a horribly hot and mosquito-ridden night in this hut (there's Nami!), but swimming in the salty, salty water the next morning was worth it. You really do feel weightless, and the cool water felt so good on my bug bites! I'm not convinced that the mud is as therapeutic as legend has it, but we pulled some up from the bottom and coated ourselves. There weren't too many people around, which was nice, but everyone who was there was covered in mud!

Nami's sister and brother and Adar, a friend, met up with us in Tel Aviv to drive north to Golan. We hiked through the hills and swam in the rivers and picked (and ate!) Adar's family's pears. It was very beautiful. Na'amah is back in San Francisco now, where she is beginning work on an MD/PhD at UCSF. I'm so proud of you, n-raz, and excited for all the things you will do! She says that things in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem are mostly the same, that our friends in Haifa are fine, and even Adar's family in the north are ignoring the war. Pray that they stay safe.

Here's Haifa. A beautiful city, hilly and surrounded by the Mediterranean. Home to a Bahai temple, the holiest Bahai temple ... I don't really understand why the Bahais put it there, though; the shrine houses the remains of one of their prophets, but the guy was Persian and lived and died in Iran as far as I can tell. Also, while Israel has allowed them to use that land to build their temple, they've forbidden Bahais to become Israeli citizens. Gotta preserve that Jewish identity ...

Here's a photo you probably won't find anywhere else. There was a fair in Haifa showcasing Filipino culture, to demonstrate that Filipinos are more than caregivers for the elderly and infirm (jobs that they often hold in Israel, as in the U.S.). So here are some little girls waiting for their turn on stage!

Well, that's it for my Israel post. Again, look at Patrick's blog if you want to know about South America right now! I'll keep working on that part ...