So I have officially survived three days of living solo in Mexico. I feel (mostly) okay with being here alone, but I am really excited for when B and M's neighbor, Mary, comes on Friday. It will be great to have someone else in the house. I'll be staying in the upstairs part, she'll be downstairs. I feel pretty safe in my little fortress, maybe it's the reassurance that all the walls are topped with shards of glass that protect me from potential bad guys.


I found out this weekend that the glass daggers, however, don't protect me from scorpions. Scorpions are fairly uncommon to see here, they're definitely around but reclusive enough that people usually only find them while moving wood piles or something like that. Apparently you usually only see them in a house when their hiding place has been disturbed and they're looking for a new one. Bruce was messing around in a closet that hasn't been opened in a while, and a few hours later Marsha found one near her bed upstairs. We all decided that it was just a single occurrence and nothing to worry about ...until a little bit later I found a second one right by my bedroom. I slept on the couch that night (somehow downstairs seemed way safer than up) with visions of a disturbed nest of scorpions that had gone searching for new hiding places in the house... such as my pillowcase or my shoe. I don't really mind living in the same house as insects and other creepy crawlies when they have their own living spaces (dark unused crevasses- the kind they only leave to kill cockroaches) and I have mine (the rest of the house). It's when something that is specifically engineered to punish me for accidentally stepping on it starts wandering around in my walking territory that I begin having problems. The story ends well, though. I talked to my Spanish teacher (first thing) when I got to class the next morning and she said that scorpions live in pairs so it's always best to see two if you see one. If people find only one scorpion they get worried because they know that it's mate is going to be searching around and maybe fall underfoot in the process. Finding two scorpions meant I was sittin' pretty, not that I had a nest of disturbed little stingers checking out the real estate market upstairs.

I like the idea that scorpions (like quail!) live in pairs for life, add that to their list of endearing qualities. Well, they kinda mate for life. When the female gets pregnant the male leaves (a good choice- he knows what's about to happen) and immediately after she gives birth her babies eat her. I guess you could add that to the list of why I'm glad I'm not a scorpion.

The week has been busy so far, I made fast friends with a Swiss woman, Susanne, at my school on Monday and we went out for drinks after our tour of the beautiful Santuario de Jesus Nazareno in Atotonilco. The church is a World Heritage Site because of its intricate murals and definitely something to check out... you know, if you're ever in the area. Susanne is a great person to spend time with because she is always willing to practice Spanish. I'm fairly certain she knows at least 6 languages well enough to get by in their respective countries and although she speaks English, there is less of a draw to get lazy and fall into speaking it with her. Also, she's a giggler, which I always like.

The worn wooden doorway into the church:

Today after class, my friend, Maria Elena, and I went to the Tuesday Market, Tianguis de Martes. She has been to San Miguel six times and really knows her way around. She's full of good advice and always makes a point to share information with me. She's also one of those great people who will surprise you with casual stories about things like the two months she spent leading New York high schoolers from rough backgrounds around India on an all expenses paid (for everybody) trip. No big deal. The two of us navigated our way through the sprawling market, picking through assortments of any and all items that could be sold from stands. Pirated DVDs and video games, childrens toys, new and used clothing, chicken feet, party poppers, musical instruments, produce, cheap cell phone chargers (great for me, I was really overdue in replacing my broken one. The process to get it to charge my phone required two rubber bands and only worked a third of the time), all kinds of food vendors, and a random, seemingly endless supply of blender parts. ANYTHING. My favorites were the stands that sold a haphazard selection of things that maybe had been in surplus at some point, somewhere, and had found there way to the Tuesday Market: plug adaptors, a children's games, porn, old car parts, songbirds, vegetables, and maybe 7 identical paintings of an iguana all on one table.

Candy! Strawberries! Produce! Watches!

The stands are all set up underneath high tarps that are strung up for the occasion. I think it's a really impressive feat to have everything so well protected from the sun- the market is HUGE. This week has been especially windy in San Miguel, and periodically when a big gust came you could watch the wave of the tarps flow through the market, arcing up then down, knocking over a few items and smacking people in the head.

A little note for my parents: If it's hard to see what's going on in a picture, like the above two, you can click on it and a window will pop up with a larger image.

I hear different things from everybody regarding what food is safe to eat here and what isn't. Ask any cab driver and they'll earnestly tell you that every restaurant and food stand is absolutely safe to eat at. Ask almost any foreigner and he or she will tell you that they only eat at the high quality (expensive) food places or that they hear through the gringo rumor mill which places are safe. I'm not really sure who gets to be on the underground panel of foreign food testers that whisper their results through the high society of San Miguel, but I'm going to start doing my own research. I can't help but think that I would be missing a huge part of Mexico if I didn't regularly eat at Mexican food stands that the Mexicans go to. I think I'm reasonably safe eating food that's been cooked, my problem is that I really have a hard time resisting fresh salsa or chopped tomatoes and avocados, and I'm willing to suffer the consequences. I can remember all too clearly Megan Martin's problems (and both subsequent IVs at the hospital) in Peru that undoubtedly resulted from all the delicious food at the street vendors, but that doesn't really stop me. I don't even think that stopped her after she got out of the hospital. I'm not naive enough to think that I won't be changing my ways if I find out this current plan doesn't work, I guess I'm just one of those people who has to learn their lessons the hard way. I'm sure there will be further updates on this topic.

I feel compelled to say that I have been blown away by the avocados here. I didn't know they could be so delicious. They're damn cheap, too. In case anybody has been on the fence about visiting me here (the window of February 19 through March 15 is wiiide open, FYI), just consider the avocados. Ohhh, and fresh tortillas. Ohhh man they're good. I'm not really the type to eat a plain tortilla, but I usually find that I have a few less than I started with when I return from my favorite shop. In case any potential visitors are held back by the steep price of a plane ticket down to Mexico, let me add that it's 5 or 6 pesos for a half kilo of just-made warm tortillas (literally hot off the press), which will feed me for a week, and 10 pesos is roughly 80 cents. Juuust saying.

My language abilities are definitely getting better. I had two strangers today tell me my Spanish was very good. I should confess they both had ulterior motives, as one was trying to butter me up in the hopes of convincing me to buy some of the rainbow-colored Sharpies he was selling and the other, a cab driver, was smart enough to know that saying sweet nothings about my Spanish would probably result in a bigger tip. Even if it is a huge stretch of the truth, it's encouraging to hear someone say that. I certainly am not very good at Spanish yet. The list of basic words that I'm constantly discovering I don't know is, well, ever expanding. I am also pretty sure that I'll never be able to understand what native speakers say while talking to each other, but I'm progressing, and that's the point.

Here's a picture of my dinner tonight. I took it with the little camera on my computer so it's fuzzy, but I think you get the point:

Fuegos Artificiales

So maybe I should elaborate on what the town here is like. San Miguel is wonderful and ridiculous all at the same time. It is as picturesque as any place I've ever been in. Bright flowers bloom everywhere. The town's buildings are either old colonial stone or brightly painted concrete. The sky is almost invariably bright blue. As with everything, the pictures I've taken don't come close to doing the place justice. And then the ridiculous. San Miguel has a fair amount of expats living here (A 100% unconfirmed number I heard is 1 in 10 residents) and a large amount of tourism from America, Canada, and other countries. I think it would be entirely possible for someone who doesn't know a word of Spanish to happily live here. There is certainly a large number of the foreign residents who don't seem to have interest in learning the language and they appear to be liking their life here just fine. I heard San Miguel called the American Disneyland of Mexico, overrun with people to the point that real culture is stifled out. Some of that is true, most of it isn't.

The presence of a Starbucks in the city center and an Office Depot and Costco (called Mega) outside of town don't do much for the city's reputation. However, there is an incredible community of foreigners here who are doing a lot for the town. The weekly Que Pasa events calendar is dripping with cultural events. Singers, poetry, film festivals, art shows, workshops of all imaginable types, tons of charity events, cooking classes, Aztec dancers, Mexican mask gallery showings, anything and everything you could ever want is going on here. There was even a TEDx conference last year! In the past three days I've been to a fantastic play ( http://www.bibliotecasma.com/ ) and a classical music performance ( http://www.promusicasma.com/January2011_22and23.html ). I also witnessed a very exuberant firework show. More on that later. There is a FANTASTIC movie theater here that plays a new movie each night. I almost signed myself up for each and every movie being played this week. It compares to (and maybe even surpasses?) the Palm Theatre in San Luis Obispo, CA and Cinema Paradiso in Wanaka, New Zealand. No kidding.


And the food. The gringo population really loves its fine dining. Maybe the best food I've ever eaten is half a block away from my house. Seared ahi fit for a king. Ambrosia.

But for every hilltop neighborhood filled with foreigners living, there are streets that look as though the only American influence is the strange affinity Sanmiguelenses have for Hollister shirts. You don't have to go far off the beaten path to feel like the only foreigner in town. I'm finding more and more each day that the pro list outweighs any concerns I had for a lack of Mexican authenticity before coming here. The gringos have a handy habit of sticking to themselves so it isn't too hard to be separated from them when you want to be.

When it comes down to it, San Miguel is not the place to go for someone who is looking for complete immersion into the Mexican culture. You can definitely find that here, but I can guarantee that most everybody would also be sucked into all the other things going on. To fight that would be worthless and would rob you of the incredible experience the place has to offer.


Today was my first official day of language classes. Until now I've just been going to drop in classes three times a week. From here on out it will be 5 days a week intensive Spanish. Four hours a day Monday through Friday with an extra 2 hours every M, W, F. Wish me luck. I haven't had to be well rested for a school day in a year and a half, so last night I diligently went to bed early and set my alarm with the satisfaction of knowing I was going to get my full 8 hours of sleep. There was a little hang up, however, when the church a 1/4 mile from my room, the one that my wall of open screens looks out over, started setting off fireworks. At 4:41 am. For an hour. Complete with drums. I had been warned about the church's enthusiasm for early morning fireworks, but I don't think I fully understood what that meant until I experienced it.

Class was wonderful. My instructor is great, the students are all really enthusiastic to learn, I like the structure of the class, overall I'm really happy with it. That didn't stop me from playing hooky for the second round of today's class, which was a walking tour through the town. I got home with an hour and a half of free time before I had to go back to meet the tour, which flew by. When the time came, my "goodbye" to Bruce and Marsha ended in me deciding that spending quality time with them while lounging in the sun was more important than any old walking tour. I stand by that decision.

Arrival

The courtyard in my house for the next two months.

I decided to come to San Miguel after hearing that my mother and grandmother were planning a trip down here to see my grandma's brother and his lovely wife. There was very little to the decision process: I heard about the trip and promptly bought a ticket. My grandma and mom have traveled extensively together. The dynamic between the two of them while on those trips is perfect. It is a chance to see my grandmother when she is most carefree and at ease. Nobody fusses over anything, everybody laughs all the time, my grandma tells dirty jokes and (rightfully so) impresses everyone with her knowledge of the world and politics and she proves just exactly what a woman in her (now late) 80's can do. There are pictures and stories of her riding camels in Egypt, stooping beneath the low ceilings of Italian catacombs, beaming atop the Great Wall of China, sipping tea and clapping along to the performance of a whirling dervish in Turkey, the list goes on and on. The times my mom has had on trips with my grandma are some of her most cherished times with her mother. They can bring each other to tears of laughter reminiscing about illness, mishaps, and Three Stooges moments they've had through their travels. For years I had been wanting to travel in a Spanish speaking country, and suddenly I was presented with the opportunity to do that and start the trip off with my grandma and mom. It would have been foolish for me, recently unemployed after my summer job working in the Sierras had ended, with money in the bank and no solid plans for what to do next, to pass up the opportunity. The free flight from the award miles I had accrued on my United airlines credit card also helped. Actually all three of us had enough miles for free flights- not a bad deal.

Grams looking out over Mexico.

So here I am. Three generations of Reid/Raab/Dunbar women all flew down together on January 15th. After Mom and Grams leave, I'll be here with my mom's uncle Bruce and his wife, Marsha, until their two-month trip comes to an end on January 27th when they fly back to Port Townsend, Washington. I'll be here tentatively until March 15. In early February, Bruce and Marsha's neighbor is going to come and stay for two weeks, right at the end of her stay my sister, Roxy, and her boyfriend, Sean, are coming for a week. I'm really excited about their visit. I want so badly to share this place with other people. It's unbelievably beautiful.

Bruce and me in the courtyard right after arriving on the 15th.

During my time here alone I'll be taking Spanish classes and roping whoever I can into conversations with me. That's mostly limited to cab drivers, waiters, and people I find on the street. Yesterday I (very haltingly) chatted it up with a man, Juan, who was feeding pigeons near the city center. I was telling him about St. Mark's Basilica in Venice where the food they give the pigeons has something in it that prevents them from having offspring. Our Italian tour guide joked that Catholic pigeons on birth control aren't really all that Catholic after all. I'm not exactly sure whether that was an appropriate story, or whether it was even interesting for Juan to listen to, but he was great about it and talked with me for a long time about a variety of things that was mostly determined by what topics I had words in Spanish for.

Bruce and Marsha's house in San Miguel, which previously belonged to my grandmother's other brother, Bill, is unbelievable. In the interest of time (mine, not yours) I'll just post a part of the email I sent Roxy about it:

"Miss Roxanne,
Turns out this house is absolutely incredible. Really really nice. I can't wait for you to get here and see it. I had the impression that is was mostly cleared out since all of Bill's things were distributed to the relatives... that apparently was completely wrong. The house is beautiful, decorated with the art and furniture that was either too cumbersome to ship back to the States or not worth it. Bruce and Marsha have done a lot in sprucing the place up since they've had the house. It's beautiful. I was stunned when we walked in. I had no idea it was as big as it is (not huge but I had pictured a small little house, this is about the size of Mom and Dad's house). Like most of the houses here, you walk into the inner courtyard through a locked door. The courtyard is gorgeous. There are tons of plants and plenty of sun during the day. At night there are lots of those star-shaped lights that you can turn on. It's very romantic- just what I'm looking for while traveling alone. Through the courtyard are doors to the kitchen and to the living room. If you go through the living room or through the 1st floor bedroom you enter the second smaller courtyard. Maybe more like an atrium? The upstairs has a second bedroom with another sitting area and then a door that leads to my bedroom which is the smallest but I like it so much that I think I'll stay there once everyone leaves. One of the walls is just screens with a door that leads to the rooftop patio. The roof has a pretty good view, but also has a fair amount of buildings that overlook us, and definitely some buildings that have a straight shot view into my room... I try to change discreetly. I'm sitting there (here?) now and I can hear all the noises across the city. I don't think light sleepers would like it. The noises are mostly dogs barking, yelping, and howling, alarmingly loud church bells at alarmingly obscure hours, roosters, which I don't understand because it's past midnight, and a little bit of traffic noise. It's definitely the Mexican version of the street noise in Brooklyn. Everything in the house is decorated. Grandma can't get over it. She keeps saying "Everywhere I lay my eyes they find something beautiful." It's true, though. "This aint no shabby vacation home," as mom would say. Hahaha there was just the most stereotypical cat howl that came from down the street. Yeeeeooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwllll."

The courtyard when you first walk in from the street.

I'm pretty sure Mom became famous with the San Miguel street vendors. We did a fair amount of shopping in the five days they were here.