There's never a Walmart around when you want one.
Last Friday, our school had a 'fiesta de despedida' (goodbye party), which apparently occurs once a month, despite the fact that students are arriving and leaving more or less continuously. If I'm lucky, the next one will be right before I leave.
On Saturday, I went to the cineclub., el Pochote (a type of spiny tree) This isn't quite the same as a movie theater. It's smaller, shows older movies - and it's free. I went to the matinee, where I saw an Asterix and Obelix cartoon, which was surprisingly difficult to understand, for a cartoon, because all the characters were given such heavy accents.
Later that day I went to a spanish-language tour of the ethnobotanical gardens at Santo Domingo, which was considerably easier to follow. There were all kinds of bizarre native plants (m
ost of which were cacti). There were also a bunch of French people in the tour - I think Oaxaca must be a popular destination from Europe, because I meet more Europeans here than I ever do in the U.S. Then again, I don't generally hang out at Portland's tourist attractions, so I wouldn't know.
On Sunday, I went with my host family to Teotitlan, a local village famous for its fine blankets and tapestries. We spent a bit of time wandering around the market there, but the real reason we'd gone was to visit a restaurant there which my host-mother had heard was very good. But, as soon as we stepped inside and saw the prices on the menu, they decided that it was just for rich gringoes, and decided to go to their usual place, at Tule. Tule is famous for having a big tree, which, indeed, turned out to be - a big tree. The food at the restaurant there was delicious: I got an 'estofado,' which is Spanish for 'chicken masala.' My host-dad got barbeque, and the mom ordered another mole, 'coloradito,' which she immediately added sugar too. Yeah - I like this country.
While we were there, we ran into three different groups of people who my host family knows. It's amazing how often this happens - Oaxaca and its environs definitely have a small town feel. Some of their friends had with them a guest from Washington. It's kind of interesting: in the U.S, we wouldn't have given each other the time of day, but here, every time you run into a fellow American, it's like you're neighbors. 'You're from the Northwest? That's amazing! I'M from the Northwest!!!'
Thursday, there was a huge zapatista political rally, for a guy named Marcos. I didn't know
anything about their politics, but thought it would be interesting to see. And it was. There were dancers, and folksingers, and anarchists in mohawks selling CDs and merchandise, socialists and communists waving soviet flags and handing out pamphlets, giant pictures of Lenin and Stalin, women in skeleton masks on stilts haranguing pudgy men with gringo masks and American flags, speeches, giant banners, a huge crowd made up of equal parts tourists curious about what was going on and passionate proponents of the cause, attacks on the corruption of America, local governments, and multi-national corporations; and vendors selling snacks. So, it was just like being back in Santa Cruz. Except for the federales with rifles on the rooftops. That was kinda different. Speaking of which, one of the girls in my program spent the night in jail for kissing in front of a church.
I ended out leaving before Marcos spoke, just because I'd already been there for hours, and it looked like it was going to be hours more before he actually addressed the crowd. I heard later that after hours of build-up, he only talked for a few minutes. So, it was probably a good thing I left when I did.
Cigarettes are sold individually here. Kids wander around the crowds with boxes hanging from their chests, selling candies and cigarettes - something which I'm almost positive would not be legal in the U.S. This week, and next, I'm taking Mexican History (whose teacher is fascinating, but seems to assume that everyone in the class already knows the history of Mexico), and 'advanced spanish practice,' in which, instead of learning grammar, we just practice conversing and playing games in Spanish. It's fun.
This week, we played Scattergories and Pictionary, with which one woman had an amazing amount of difficulty - she spent her entire turn drawing someone at summer camp concentrating on some books, apparently not putting together the phrase 'campo de concentration' with 'concentration camp.' On Friday, I had to give a ten minute speech on some aspect of Oaxacan culture (I chose chocolate).
At the Zapatista rally, I was told for the second time this week, and for the second time in my live, that 'I'm sure you get this all the time, but you look exactly like 'John-Boy' from the Waltons.' Um, okay... Who-boy from the what? I looked it up online, and I don't know what they're talking about. I see no resemblance.
I hope you're all doing well. Hasta luego!
ost of which were cacti). There were also a bunch of French people in the tour - I think Oaxaca must be a popular destination from Europe, because I meet more Europeans here than I ever do in the U.S. Then again, I don't generally hang out at Portland's tourist attractions, so I wouldn't know.On Sunday, I went with my host family to Teotitlan, a local village famous for its fine blankets and tapestries. We spent a bit of time wandering around the market there, but the real reason we'd gone was to visit a restaurant there which my host-mother had heard was very good. But, as soon as we stepped inside and saw the prices on the menu, they decided that it was just for rich gringoes, and decided to go to their usual place, at Tule. Tule is famous for having a big tree, which, indeed, turned out to be - a big tree. The food at the restaurant there was delicious: I got an 'estofado,' which is Spanish for 'chicken masala.' My host-dad got barbeque, and the mom ordered another mole, 'coloradito,' which she immediately added sugar too. Yeah - I like this country.
While we were there, we ran into three different groups of people who my host family knows. It's amazing how often this happens - Oaxaca and its environs definitely have a small town feel. Some of their friends had with them a guest from Washington. It's kind of interesting: in the U.S, we wouldn't have given each other the time of day, but here, every time you run into a fellow American, it's like you're neighbors. 'You're from the Northwest? That's amazing! I'M from the Northwest!!!'
Thursday, there was a huge zapatista political rally, for a guy named Marcos. I didn't know
anything about their politics, but thought it would be interesting to see. And it was. There were dancers, and folksingers, and anarchists in mohawks selling CDs and merchandise, socialists and communists waving soviet flags and handing out pamphlets, giant pictures of Lenin and Stalin, women in skeleton masks on stilts haranguing pudgy men with gringo masks and American flags, speeches, giant banners, a huge crowd made up of equal parts tourists curious about what was going on and passionate proponents of the cause, attacks on the corruption of America, local governments, and multi-national corporations; and vendors selling snacks. So, it was just like being back in Santa Cruz. Except for the federales with rifles on the rooftops. That was kinda different. Speaking of which, one of the girls in my program spent the night in jail for kissing in front of a church.I ended out leaving before Marcos spoke, just because I'd already been there for hours, and it looked like it was going to be hours more before he actually addressed the crowd. I heard later that after hours of build-up, he only talked for a few minutes. So, it was probably a good thing I left when I did.
Cigarettes are sold individually here. Kids wander around the crowds with boxes hanging from their chests, selling candies and cigarettes - something which I'm almost positive would not be legal in the U.S. This week, and next, I'm taking Mexican History (whose teacher is fascinating, but seems to assume that everyone in the class already knows the history of Mexico), and 'advanced spanish practice,' in which, instead of learning grammar, we just practice conversing and playing games in Spanish. It's fun.
This week, we played Scattergories and Pictionary, with which one woman had an amazing amount of difficulty - she spent her entire turn drawing someone at summer camp concentrating on some books, apparently not putting together the phrase 'campo de concentration' with 'concentration camp.' On Friday, I had to give a ten minute speech on some aspect of Oaxacan culture (I chose chocolate).
At the Zapatista rally, I was told for the second time this week, and for the second time in my live, that 'I'm sure you get this all the time, but you look exactly like 'John-Boy' from the Waltons.' Um, okay... Who-boy from the what? I looked it up online, and I don't know what they're talking about. I see no resemblance.
I hope you're all doing well. Hasta luego!
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