On a side note, today is Tedra's first birthday.
I almost forgot.
I hadn't even thought about it, until my Temas de la Vida del Mexico Contemporaneo course. We have been learning about the role of women in Mexico (an utterly fascinating topic) and today's discussion was focused upon abortions. Not an all-together savory topic to begin with, but made so much worse by my self-reflections.
As someone who has suffered the loss of a child, how could I not help but think about it while I was being confronted with real-life accounts of abortion, miscarriage, disease, and death?
Then I remembered, today would be her first birthday. I didn't even celebrate.
It made me really really sad, but not as sad as I expected to be. It still hurts, but not in the same way it used to. I don't even think about that frequently, except when I come across some absolutely adorable child being completely carefree and wonderful. In those private moments I always take a moment to reflect on what I lost.
One year old. I can't believe time has passed so quickly already. It feels like yesterday. But at the same time, it doesn't. I remember clearly every detail, still. Before, during, and especially after. I think back to where I was physically, emotionally, and mentally one year ago... and in some ways it is as if a lifetime has passed.
I guess because a lifetime has passed.
To Tedra:
I love you with all of my heart. Forever and ever.
Gone, but never forgotten.
Te amo baby.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Riding the Rollercoaster
It is odd how things work out sometimes.
I have been struggling with varying degrees of culture shock the past week or so. It has been rather unpleasant, especially considering that I am aware of what I am going through. Yet through it all, I still find time to enjoy the wonderful aspects of life in Mexico.
For example, today I had a break-through in my Traduccion class at the EEE. I worked diligently on my translation of a text titled "The Origin of Pulque", based on the Aztec mythology of the origin of Pulque (and alcoholic beverage originally considered to be sacred to the gods, which is now reserved primarily for tourists and impoverished campesinos). I tried to apply everything I have learned thus far about the process of translation. I also ventured outside of my comfort zone and took some "liberties" with the original text. For the first time, I did not create a word-for-word translation. It was very nerve-wracking, to say the least.
I was still fairly confident in my translation, until we went over unknown words and phrases within the text during class. There are always a million possible translations of any given text, but each choice has ramifications on the context and meaning of the translated text. As such, some decisions are far worthier than others. Consequently, by the end of the class I was feeling pretty insecure about my original translation. It seemed as though there were a million and one ways I could rephrase my translation to make it better.
Yet I persevered and had the professor proof my translation, even though it is not do until next week Wednesday. Lo and behold, I only had seven errors! SEVEN! For a full page translation, that is pretty good. The best part, they were all based on concordancia (agreement) and conjugacion (conjugation), my weakest areas (which I am aware of and work on improving). In fact, my professor liked the liberties that I took and said that she believed the meaning of the text was improved. She also though my text maintained the original flow and styling nicely. I was quite complemented. It made me feel good, like I am not so far off the mark after all. Seven errors? For a first draft? I am making progress. :)
My subsequent Traduccion class at the UV was equally uplifting. Although my original translation of the text was downright disgraceful, I was able to consciously correct almost all of my errors without assistance. (Perhaps I am improving and I am too close to myself to notice). After class, the professor then invited me out to lunch with the Director of the Faculty Library and a former student. We had a fantastic time! They gave me many wonderful recommendations for things to do while I am in Mexico and we all agreed to get together sometime to hang out. It was really nice. By the end of the meal, I felt really content with my verbal abilities. I think I am starting to come out of my shell. Especially because amongst academics and scholars, I no longer feel afraid to express myself and my ideas. I know I can participate in any discussion, without fear of reproach or rejections from my peers.
It was a world of difference from my trip in 2008, when my professor chastised me for speaking low-brow "street Spanish" and ordered me to stop conversing with the public. She believed they were a bad influence on my linguistic abilities. I am pretty sure I just proved her wrong. The majority of my conversations occur on the streets, yet I am still fully capable of holding my own during a collegiate discussion. So ha!
Being serious though, it did feel really good. I have been making a concerted effort to try harder and I find myself making fewer and fewer mistakes daily. Luis said I did not make a single mistake all day in all our conversations yesterday. Not a single one! And, I used both the subjunctive AND future tense.
Then tonight I had my painting class with Carlos. I am learning the ancient technique of pigment painting (used to create the Codices). Unfortunately (although fortunately), our class was canceled because the our materials we locked in the director's office and he was out sick for the day. So he invited me to his Maestro's studio. We have been having some fantastic discussions about art and he wanted me to meet his mentor. It was such a neat experience! Not only did we talk the two kilometers there and back, but I had a lively discussion with his teacher. I was then invited to join them at el Museo Antropologia for a drawing class, or for one of the many random art film movie nights they have down at the studio. I am pretty sure I will take them up on the offer.
Walking home in the darkness, reflecting back on the day, I felt really good. I had many opportunities to practice my Spanish and I confidently succeeding every time. It made me think my mom is wrong. My Spanish may not be perfect, but it is definitely sufficient. If I am capable of all that I accomplished today, just imagine what I will be capable of in three more months.
I can't wait to find out!~
I have been struggling with varying degrees of culture shock the past week or so. It has been rather unpleasant, especially considering that I am aware of what I am going through. Yet through it all, I still find time to enjoy the wonderful aspects of life in Mexico.
For example, today I had a break-through in my Traduccion class at the EEE. I worked diligently on my translation of a text titled "The Origin of Pulque", based on the Aztec mythology of the origin of Pulque (and alcoholic beverage originally considered to be sacred to the gods, which is now reserved primarily for tourists and impoverished campesinos). I tried to apply everything I have learned thus far about the process of translation. I also ventured outside of my comfort zone and took some "liberties" with the original text. For the first time, I did not create a word-for-word translation. It was very nerve-wracking, to say the least.
I was still fairly confident in my translation, until we went over unknown words and phrases within the text during class. There are always a million possible translations of any given text, but each choice has ramifications on the context and meaning of the translated text. As such, some decisions are far worthier than others. Consequently, by the end of the class I was feeling pretty insecure about my original translation. It seemed as though there were a million and one ways I could rephrase my translation to make it better.
Yet I persevered and had the professor proof my translation, even though it is not do until next week Wednesday. Lo and behold, I only had seven errors! SEVEN! For a full page translation, that is pretty good. The best part, they were all based on concordancia (agreement) and conjugacion (conjugation), my weakest areas (which I am aware of and work on improving). In fact, my professor liked the liberties that I took and said that she believed the meaning of the text was improved. She also though my text maintained the original flow and styling nicely. I was quite complemented. It made me feel good, like I am not so far off the mark after all. Seven errors? For a first draft? I am making progress. :)
My subsequent Traduccion class at the UV was equally uplifting. Although my original translation of the text was downright disgraceful, I was able to consciously correct almost all of my errors without assistance. (Perhaps I am improving and I am too close to myself to notice). After class, the professor then invited me out to lunch with the Director of the Faculty Library and a former student. We had a fantastic time! They gave me many wonderful recommendations for things to do while I am in Mexico and we all agreed to get together sometime to hang out. It was really nice. By the end of the meal, I felt really content with my verbal abilities. I think I am starting to come out of my shell. Especially because amongst academics and scholars, I no longer feel afraid to express myself and my ideas. I know I can participate in any discussion, without fear of reproach or rejections from my peers.
It was a world of difference from my trip in 2008, when my professor chastised me for speaking low-brow "street Spanish" and ordered me to stop conversing with the public. She believed they were a bad influence on my linguistic abilities. I am pretty sure I just proved her wrong. The majority of my conversations occur on the streets, yet I am still fully capable of holding my own during a collegiate discussion. So ha!
Being serious though, it did feel really good. I have been making a concerted effort to try harder and I find myself making fewer and fewer mistakes daily. Luis said I did not make a single mistake all day in all our conversations yesterday. Not a single one! And, I used both the subjunctive AND future tense.
Then tonight I had my painting class with Carlos. I am learning the ancient technique of pigment painting (used to create the Codices). Unfortunately (although fortunately), our class was canceled because the our materials we locked in the director's office and he was out sick for the day. So he invited me to his Maestro's studio. We have been having some fantastic discussions about art and he wanted me to meet his mentor. It was such a neat experience! Not only did we talk the two kilometers there and back, but I had a lively discussion with his teacher. I was then invited to join them at el Museo Antropologia for a drawing class, or for one of the many random art film movie nights they have down at the studio. I am pretty sure I will take them up on the offer.
Walking home in the darkness, reflecting back on the day, I felt really good. I had many opportunities to practice my Spanish and I confidently succeeding every time. It made me think my mom is wrong. My Spanish may not be perfect, but it is definitely sufficient. If I am capable of all that I accomplished today, just imagine what I will be capable of in three more months.
I can't wait to find out!~
Sunday, March 7, 2010
The hard truth
I have been thinking allot of my role in life lately.
I had a difficult morning, following a very frank discussion about my language capabilities with my mother. According to her, my language skills are "inadequate". She is correct, of course. Even after three and a half years of college, my Spanish is not good enough. I was not overly preoccupied during the early years, because I knew that Mexico would solidify my skills. Yet once I got here I realized how much work really needed to be done. I have had to step up my game considerably. Six classes, extra-curricular activities, friendships and family simply aren't enough. I need to spend extra time memorizing vocabulary, studying the grammar and making a concerted effort to apply what I am learning. It is really hard and sometimes I don't feel like it is paying off. I think I need to keep in mind the fact that I have only been here for one month (exactly). I think that is the scary part though, I am only here for four months. Is that really enough time? It is going to have to be.
In my melancholy stupor, I spent the day questioning myself and the purpose of these last three and a half years. I have been very "me" oriented lately, thinking only about my personal language skills and what I personally am getting out of this experience. I seem to have forgotten that this journey isn't about me, per se. My initial objective was to help the people of my community. Have I forgotten that? I hope not... Without that goal, I don't know if I will succeed.
Then, while reading an article about the culture of indigenous people (of course a vast over-generalization), I started to apply their values and beliefs to my own. Their profound respect for the land, the importance of family/community/honor, the idea that life should not be about individual gain, but promotion of the whole... Then I applied my knowledge of the drastic changes occurring rapidly in these societies due to westernization and globalization. These beliefs are no longer the social "norm". They are considered antiquated and old-fashioned. They are labeled as "traditional", a word that is becoming redefined and associated with the dying generations. People my age no longer hold to these beliefs, they are more focused on the popular Western world and material gain. Why else would so many pueblos be completely devoid of younger generations?
Yet again, my initial purpose was to help the people who came to the U.S., seeking employment and opportunities to provide a better life for themselves. Yet by participating in this new culture, I am supporting the very system which I so passionately detest. I am facilitating the destruction of the values I cherish.
*sigh*
I am more confused than ever....
I had a difficult morning, following a very frank discussion about my language capabilities with my mother. According to her, my language skills are "inadequate". She is correct, of course. Even after three and a half years of college, my Spanish is not good enough. I was not overly preoccupied during the early years, because I knew that Mexico would solidify my skills. Yet once I got here I realized how much work really needed to be done. I have had to step up my game considerably. Six classes, extra-curricular activities, friendships and family simply aren't enough. I need to spend extra time memorizing vocabulary, studying the grammar and making a concerted effort to apply what I am learning. It is really hard and sometimes I don't feel like it is paying off. I think I need to keep in mind the fact that I have only been here for one month (exactly). I think that is the scary part though, I am only here for four months. Is that really enough time? It is going to have to be.
In my melancholy stupor, I spent the day questioning myself and the purpose of these last three and a half years. I have been very "me" oriented lately, thinking only about my personal language skills and what I personally am getting out of this experience. I seem to have forgotten that this journey isn't about me, per se. My initial objective was to help the people of my community. Have I forgotten that? I hope not... Without that goal, I don't know if I will succeed.
Then, while reading an article about the culture of indigenous people (of course a vast over-generalization), I started to apply their values and beliefs to my own. Their profound respect for the land, the importance of family/community/honor, the idea that life should not be about individual gain, but promotion of the whole... Then I applied my knowledge of the drastic changes occurring rapidly in these societies due to westernization and globalization. These beliefs are no longer the social "norm". They are considered antiquated and old-fashioned. They are labeled as "traditional", a word that is becoming redefined and associated with the dying generations. People my age no longer hold to these beliefs, they are more focused on the popular Western world and material gain. Why else would so many pueblos be completely devoid of younger generations?
Yet again, my initial purpose was to help the people who came to the U.S., seeking employment and opportunities to provide a better life for themselves. Yet by participating in this new culture, I am supporting the very system which I so passionately detest. I am facilitating the destruction of the values I cherish.
*sigh*
I am more confused than ever....
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Naolinco
Yesterday I had a taste of home.
I went to Naolinco, a small pueblo about 45 minutes outside of Xalapa, with Rachel and Luis (my two best friends here in Mexico). The drive there was absolutely stunning. It was mid-morning/early afternoon and the mist was clinging to the hills. We drove up, down, over and around the countryside! We saw chickens, cows, goats, horses, burros, dogs, cats, and every other type of farm animal imaginable, all loitering along the side of the road. It was absolutely stunning. It would have been perfect if I hadn't gotten severely bus-sick. :S
The pueblo of Naolinco was breathtaking. It was a small intimate community (about 5000) with cute little houses, cobblestone streets, and a plethora of burros and horses. Like every other Mexican community, in the very center was an adorable Cathedral, Governor's office and public park. We walked all around town, checking out the sites.
Naolinco is known for its leather products. There are (literally) hundreds of little shops selling shoes, boots, purses, belts, keychains, cow tails, cow feet, and every other type of cow-skin based products. As a vegetarian who is trying to move away from using animal based products, I was not tempted to buy anything (to say the least). It was a rather charming community though.
Humorously, Naolinco is represented by a metal statue of a miserable looking cobbler making a shoe out of leather. He looks as though he stepped out of the story The Cobbler and the Elves, except the elves never came.
There are some wonderfully natural sites to be seen in Naolinco. My favorites are: The graveyard, las cascadas (the waterfalls), and the mirador (observation deck).
The graveyard was absolutely amazing! Every grave was set-up as an altar, with amazingly elaborate houses and ofrendas (offerings) honoring the dead. It made me very happy, being in the graveyard, to know how much these people are loved even in death. I believe that we need to respect and honor where we come from and the people who came before us. What more could any person ask for than to be loved so much that even in death they are honored and remembered. It is one of the many beautiful aspects of Mexican culture that I quite adore.
Naolinco is also known for its beautiful cascadas and mirador. The mirador is a neat observation deck/public park situated high up on the hill, overlooking the beauty of the valley and four cascadas. As the fog was as thick as pea soup, we were only able to take in the view of the two closest cascadas. Even from a distance though, we could still hear the rushing water as it cascaded down the falls. That, in combination with the cool clinging fog, made for quite a sensory banquet. It felt as though you could nearly reach out and touch it!
We were so intrigued, that even with the poor weather, Luis offered to take us down for a closer view. After a yummy lunch, we went down a neat little winding path that lead to an engorged stream and very rickety wood-plank bridge. Although Luis assured us that he had crossed the path before, many of the planks were broken and weak looking. There was also a sign posted warning away visitors and stating the land was now private property. Luis was very brave and crossed the bridge, but we thought better of continuing our journey past that point. Instead we walked along the stream until we came to a dam, overflowing with cold, polluted water. Although the naturaleza was breathtaking, the water was surprisingly filthy and stagnant. Afterward, we all felt cold and disgustingly filthy. Still, it was a heck of a lot of fun!
By the end of the day, we were all exhausted and more than ready to go home. But the funny thing is, it is the closest I have felt to home since I got here. Stumbling down the cobblestone streets and muddy rutted paths, I felt a half a continent away. There is something to be said about the countryside. Somethings never change. It felt good to be home.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Having a good day
Today was a good day.
It contained all the elements that make for excitement and adventure. There was danger, uncertainty, clarity, live music, ancient art, cute men, ugly men, freezing cold, blazing sunshine, and a nice dollop of fate to bring it all together. Just the way I like it!
My day began normally enough, with freezing rain and classes at the University. Having absolutely no desire to crawl out of bed, I lamented (yet again) the lack of hot water that is prevalent in this country. To say the least, I wished the Governor would think to cancel classes yet again. In retrospect, I am glad everything worked out the way it did. Days like today are worth both the good and the bad. I find you appreciate the good more that way.
After an uneventful (but educational) morning, I headed off to El Museo Antropologia for an informational tour on Olmeca culture. I can't explain it, but being around some of the oldest artifacts on Earth (and the oldest in Northern America) really got my blood racing. Being surrounded by 3000 year old history is indescribable. It makes you feel so insignificant and alive all at the same time. We are so mortal, yet capable of so much. It is mind boggling really.
Meanwhile, it went from 50 degrees, overcast and raining to high 70's, cloudless and the warmest sunshine I have felt yet! Racing from the Museum after my class, I hopped the first bus that was headed (relatively) in the right direction. Normally I take great care before getting on a bus, as I do not like to be lost. In my haste, I didn't even think to check which specific bus route I was on. The consequent trip was well worth the uncertainty.
Although I almost immediately regretted my hasty decision, I was soon amused by one of the many bus performers I have witnessed thus far. He was an older gentlemen with sagging facial features, who staggered quite a bit when he walked. I believe he was profusely inebriated. Propping himself against a seat, he pulled out a beautiful little guitar and began madly plucking away with his fingers. The combination of his sweet voice and plucky tune soon caught my attention. Completely fascinated, I spent the rest of the bus trip marveling at how different things are in Mexico. The performance was very commonplace, yet felt so fresh compared to how things are back home. I wish every day could be filled with the haphazard makings of a musical.
The neatest part is that these bus performers don't have to pay to take the bus! What a neat idea! They can catch a free ride anywhere and make a few coins along the way! Note to self: use this trick when in need of free transportation and a few coins in local currency.
After the old man hobbled off the bus, I looked out the window and realized I was completely lost. I wasn't on a bus route I had ever taken before and I didn't recognize any street names or distinguishing landmarks. I had a sense of the direction we were heading in, but I was completely disoriented. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw some graffiti that looked familiar (I have an odd passion for photographing graffiti, I consider it public art). Just then the bus stopped to drop off some passengers and on a whim, I exited with them. Looking up and down the street, I felt completely lost. Heading in the direction of the graffiti, I attempted to discern anything recognizable. Turning down the street where I saw the graffiti, I lucked out by discovering a side street near where I live. Utterly relieved, I made my way back to familiar terrain. In a city filled with graffiti, what are the odds of that?
Reassured, I raced back towards campus to meet Luis. I was already about 45 minutes late and my ill-thought-out bus trek had taken me well off the beaten path. Dashing across el Calle Moctezuma (a cute little cobblestone street a few blocks from my house), I just barely noticed a taxi barreling down the street in the opposite direction. Something about the taxi caught my attention and I cautiously slowed down. Although I was on the sidewalk and in no evident danger, something didn't feel right. Then all of a sudden *BAM!*. Jumping in fright, I looked back and saw that the taxi had slammed into a mini-van trying to cross el Calle Moctezuma, where I had been standing barely 15 seconds earlier.
With a racing heart, I didn't slow down to gawk. Rushing away from the accident, I passed a gaggle of construction workers who immediately began cat-calling. I don't understand why Mexican men think that the way to pick up an American girl is to start by calling her "gueda". I find it offensive. I can handle most comments and cat-calls, but that one really rankles me. I don't like being reminded of my "whiteness", even in a culture that values it.
Making it back to campus (better late than never, right?), I spent some time with Luis before heading home for la comida de media dia and tarea. Soaking up the sunshine on my balcony, I was distracted from my studying by a group of traveling street performers! They serenaded me from the street in front of my house. All together an exceedingly enjoyable experience.
By the end of the day, I can say with complete certainty, today was a good day!
It contained all the elements that make for excitement and adventure. There was danger, uncertainty, clarity, live music, ancient art, cute men, ugly men, freezing cold, blazing sunshine, and a nice dollop of fate to bring it all together. Just the way I like it!
My day began normally enough, with freezing rain and classes at the University. Having absolutely no desire to crawl out of bed, I lamented (yet again) the lack of hot water that is prevalent in this country. To say the least, I wished the Governor would think to cancel classes yet again. In retrospect, I am glad everything worked out the way it did. Days like today are worth both the good and the bad. I find you appreciate the good more that way.
After an uneventful (but educational) morning, I headed off to El Museo Antropologia for an informational tour on Olmeca culture. I can't explain it, but being around some of the oldest artifacts on Earth (and the oldest in Northern America) really got my blood racing. Being surrounded by 3000 year old history is indescribable. It makes you feel so insignificant and alive all at the same time. We are so mortal, yet capable of so much. It is mind boggling really.
Meanwhile, it went from 50 degrees, overcast and raining to high 70's, cloudless and the warmest sunshine I have felt yet! Racing from the Museum after my class, I hopped the first bus that was headed (relatively) in the right direction. Normally I take great care before getting on a bus, as I do not like to be lost. In my haste, I didn't even think to check which specific bus route I was on. The consequent trip was well worth the uncertainty.
Although I almost immediately regretted my hasty decision, I was soon amused by one of the many bus performers I have witnessed thus far. He was an older gentlemen with sagging facial features, who staggered quite a bit when he walked. I believe he was profusely inebriated. Propping himself against a seat, he pulled out a beautiful little guitar and began madly plucking away with his fingers. The combination of his sweet voice and plucky tune soon caught my attention. Completely fascinated, I spent the rest of the bus trip marveling at how different things are in Mexico. The performance was very commonplace, yet felt so fresh compared to how things are back home. I wish every day could be filled with the haphazard makings of a musical.
The neatest part is that these bus performers don't have to pay to take the bus! What a neat idea! They can catch a free ride anywhere and make a few coins along the way! Note to self: use this trick when in need of free transportation and a few coins in local currency.
After the old man hobbled off the bus, I looked out the window and realized I was completely lost. I wasn't on a bus route I had ever taken before and I didn't recognize any street names or distinguishing landmarks. I had a sense of the direction we were heading in, but I was completely disoriented. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw some graffiti that looked familiar (I have an odd passion for photographing graffiti, I consider it public art). Just then the bus stopped to drop off some passengers and on a whim, I exited with them. Looking up and down the street, I felt completely lost. Heading in the direction of the graffiti, I attempted to discern anything recognizable. Turning down the street where I saw the graffiti, I lucked out by discovering a side street near where I live. Utterly relieved, I made my way back to familiar terrain. In a city filled with graffiti, what are the odds of that?
Reassured, I raced back towards campus to meet Luis. I was already about 45 minutes late and my ill-thought-out bus trek had taken me well off the beaten path. Dashing across el Calle Moctezuma (a cute little cobblestone street a few blocks from my house), I just barely noticed a taxi barreling down the street in the opposite direction. Something about the taxi caught my attention and I cautiously slowed down. Although I was on the sidewalk and in no evident danger, something didn't feel right. Then all of a sudden *BAM!*. Jumping in fright, I looked back and saw that the taxi had slammed into a mini-van trying to cross el Calle Moctezuma, where I had been standing barely 15 seconds earlier.
With a racing heart, I didn't slow down to gawk. Rushing away from the accident, I passed a gaggle of construction workers who immediately began cat-calling. I don't understand why Mexican men think that the way to pick up an American girl is to start by calling her "gueda". I find it offensive. I can handle most comments and cat-calls, but that one really rankles me. I don't like being reminded of my "whiteness", even in a culture that values it.
Making it back to campus (better late than never, right?), I spent some time with Luis before heading home for la comida de media dia and tarea. Soaking up the sunshine on my balcony, I was distracted from my studying by a group of traveling street performers! They serenaded me from the street in front of my house. All together an exceedingly enjoyable experience.
By the end of the day, I can say with complete certainty, today was a good day!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Redefining Vegetarianism
Being a vegetarian in today's society is not always easy.
This is especially true in the United States. I come from a meat oriented society. We eat meat all day every day. It is in our fast food, on the shelves of countless grocery stores, and found in nearly every meal. As such, being a vegetarian means making the committed (and conscious) decision to deviate from the social norm.
As such, being a vegetarian in today's society is not always easy.
I have had my fair share of difficulties in the states in the past. Ranging from restaurants to dinner invitations, I have learned to cope with it it and make the best out of any given situation. However, I didn't anticipate having difficulties once I got to Mexico. I mean, I have been eating beans and rice for over five years now! I am in the land where corn and beans were originally domesticated. They are a common staple in every household! Who would expect being a vegetarian would be such an issue?
Truth be told, I am very fortunate. My mom is an excellent cook and makes me a wonderful variety of vegetarian delicacies every single day. Not only do I get to try a fair amount of new foods, but I am also constantly learning how to prepare them myself. I have even trained my mom to constantly keep beans, rice, tortillas, and queso de Oaxaca in the fridge. It is a vegetarian-dream-come-true.
I should have realized though, that things are not always this easy, especially considering the difficulties a friend experienced last time I visited Mexico. David was vegan and had the worst possible time trying to find food he could eat. Every time we went out together, we would spend hours walking up and down the streets asking every single restaurant if they served rice and beans. Fortunately, he operated under the "don't ask, don't tell" policy when it came to potential meat-based flavorings. Otherwise he would have probably starved to death...
Although I haven't had to struggle to find food (per se), I have had my fair share of difficulties here in Mexico. For one thing, my mom doesn't completely understand the concept of being vegetarian. Although I am not the first vegetarian she had had in the house, she has already cracked my resolve regarding lard, meat-based bouillons, fish, an seafood. I don't mind the seafood so much and the rest I just pretend isn't there.
Yet sometimes it seems as though she doesn't get it all. For example, during the welcoming party hosted by the EEE, she went out of her way to make me tortas de frijoles (bean sandwiches), to ensure that I would have something to eat at the party. Yet she made the decision to flavor it with chicken chorrizo (sausage). To say the least, I had to explain that chicken is NOT vegetarian.
It is not only her though. I have encountered quite a few people with similar mentalities regarding vegetarianism. Some, like Carmen, don't quite understand that vegetarian means no meat. They are always trying to come up with some sneaky to make meat "vegetarian friendly". Regardless of the presentation, meat is meat.
Then there are others who think that being vegetarian means you are a god-forsaken space alien from outer-space. As such, most respectable establishments don't offer "that type of food", when in reality, they usually do. I encounter this mentality nearly every time I step into a restaurant, as I always ask before being seated if they serve vegetarian options.
For example, walking into a local market yesterday, I asked the patrona of the first street-style restaurant whether she served vegetarian food. Clearly scandalized, she vehemently shook her head and said "claro que no!" With a sigh, I asked if any of the restaurants in the market served vegetarian options. Distressed, the women continued to shake her head, as she turned her back on me. Then, to my surprise, she opened a giant pot and began to stir the yummy looking rice inside. Next to the pot of rice was a pot of black beans. Next to the pot of black beans was a stack of tortillas. Really now?
Then again today, I experienced something similar at the Museo Antropologia. I had a bad reaction from my low blood sugar and had to eat something from the museum cafeteria. With a splitting headache and sharp pains in my belly, I asked the patrona if the restaurant offered any vegetarian options at all. Shaking her head, she iterated the now common-place response: "no". Needing to eat something, I all but begged for food, anything. "Tortillas? Queso?" The woman's face brightened, "Ah si! tenemos!" Placing an order of cheesy tortillas, the women shocked me by asking if I wanted beans with that. Then, to my amazement, she pointed to the menu and recommended I order antefrijoles. To those of who you don't know what antefrijoles are: four tortillas folded up and filled with beans, cheese, and crema; covered in beans, cheese, and crema. I still can't wrap my head around that one.
Then again, it isn't all bad. Although the majority of the gente don't seem to understand the definition of vegetarianism, I still manage to find food to eat. I have only really been plagued by one bad experience. During Carnaval, I could not find food to eat. For the first day and a half, I struggled to find cheese and tortillas. It wasn't until the third day that I found a restaurant that served beans and rice. I'll tell ya, after not eating adequately for three days, you learn to appreciate the simplicity of a plate of beans and rice. There is nothing more delicious in the world when you are starving.
When all is said and done, it has been an eye opening (and stomach filling) experience.
This is especially true in the United States. I come from a meat oriented society. We eat meat all day every day. It is in our fast food, on the shelves of countless grocery stores, and found in nearly every meal. As such, being a vegetarian means making the committed (and conscious) decision to deviate from the social norm.
As such, being a vegetarian in today's society is not always easy.
I have had my fair share of difficulties in the states in the past. Ranging from restaurants to dinner invitations, I have learned to cope with it it and make the best out of any given situation. However, I didn't anticipate having difficulties once I got to Mexico. I mean, I have been eating beans and rice for over five years now! I am in the land where corn and beans were originally domesticated. They are a common staple in every household! Who would expect being a vegetarian would be such an issue?
Truth be told, I am very fortunate. My mom is an excellent cook and makes me a wonderful variety of vegetarian delicacies every single day. Not only do I get to try a fair amount of new foods, but I am also constantly learning how to prepare them myself. I have even trained my mom to constantly keep beans, rice, tortillas, and queso de Oaxaca in the fridge. It is a vegetarian-dream-come-true.
I should have realized though, that things are not always this easy, especially considering the difficulties a friend experienced last time I visited Mexico. David was vegan and had the worst possible time trying to find food he could eat. Every time we went out together, we would spend hours walking up and down the streets asking every single restaurant if they served rice and beans. Fortunately, he operated under the "don't ask, don't tell" policy when it came to potential meat-based flavorings. Otherwise he would have probably starved to death...
Although I haven't had to struggle to find food (per se), I have had my fair share of difficulties here in Mexico. For one thing, my mom doesn't completely understand the concept of being vegetarian. Although I am not the first vegetarian she had had in the house, she has already cracked my resolve regarding lard, meat-based bouillons, fish, an seafood. I don't mind the seafood so much and the rest I just pretend isn't there.
Yet sometimes it seems as though she doesn't get it all. For example, during the welcoming party hosted by the EEE, she went out of her way to make me tortas de frijoles (bean sandwiches), to ensure that I would have something to eat at the party. Yet she made the decision to flavor it with chicken chorrizo (sausage). To say the least, I had to explain that chicken is NOT vegetarian.
It is not only her though. I have encountered quite a few people with similar mentalities regarding vegetarianism. Some, like Carmen, don't quite understand that vegetarian means no meat. They are always trying to come up with some sneaky to make meat "vegetarian friendly". Regardless of the presentation, meat is meat.
Then there are others who think that being vegetarian means you are a god-forsaken space alien from outer-space. As such, most respectable establishments don't offer "that type of food", when in reality, they usually do. I encounter this mentality nearly every time I step into a restaurant, as I always ask before being seated if they serve vegetarian options.
For example, walking into a local market yesterday, I asked the patrona of the first street-style restaurant whether she served vegetarian food. Clearly scandalized, she vehemently shook her head and said "claro que no!" With a sigh, I asked if any of the restaurants in the market served vegetarian options. Distressed, the women continued to shake her head, as she turned her back on me. Then, to my surprise, she opened a giant pot and began to stir the yummy looking rice inside. Next to the pot of rice was a pot of black beans. Next to the pot of black beans was a stack of tortillas. Really now?
Then again today, I experienced something similar at the Museo Antropologia. I had a bad reaction from my low blood sugar and had to eat something from the museum cafeteria. With a splitting headache and sharp pains in my belly, I asked the patrona if the restaurant offered any vegetarian options at all. Shaking her head, she iterated the now common-place response: "no". Needing to eat something, I all but begged for food, anything. "Tortillas? Queso?" The woman's face brightened, "Ah si! tenemos!" Placing an order of cheesy tortillas, the women shocked me by asking if I wanted beans with that. Then, to my amazement, she pointed to the menu and recommended I order antefrijoles. To those of who you don't know what antefrijoles are: four tortillas folded up and filled with beans, cheese, and crema; covered in beans, cheese, and crema. I still can't wrap my head around that one.
Then again, it isn't all bad. Although the majority of the gente don't seem to understand the definition of vegetarianism, I still manage to find food to eat. I have only really been plagued by one bad experience. During Carnaval, I could not find food to eat. For the first day and a half, I struggled to find cheese and tortillas. It wasn't until the third day that I found a restaurant that served beans and rice. I'll tell ya, after not eating adequately for three days, you learn to appreciate the simplicity of a plate of beans and rice. There is nothing more delicious in the world when you are starving.
When all is said and done, it has been an eye opening (and stomach filling) experience.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
A Day of Domestication
Although I may not have done anything particularly fancy or exciting today, I feel as though I accomplished allot! My hands hurt, my back aches, and I am utterly exhausted.
Whenever I have free time I feel as though I should be doing something, especially on the weekend. Today was no different. The exception was that I realized I didn't need to go "out" in order to satisfy that feeling.
When I woke up, my mom was out in the courtyard washing laundry (as she is prone to do when it is sunny out). I had already planned on doing laundry today, when it occurred to me that I should take this opportunity to really immerse myself in the culture and "do as the natives do". Not that all Mexican women wash their laundry by hand, but it is allot more common here than back home. So, determined to try it out, I marched down to the local tienda and bought a bar of "Jabon de Zota".
I proceeded to spend the next two hours washing every article of clothing I own here (except for what I am wearing). It was utterly exhausting and oh so fulfilling! I had no idea what hard work it is to wash clothes using nothing more than a bucket of water, washboard, and bar of soap! Standing in the sunshine, soaked from the splashed water, I had a great deal of time to reflect on the mundane task of doing laundry. I have never really thought about it before.. I guess I always kind of took for granted the simplicity and convenience of washing machines. I mean, until recently, this is how it has been down. Imagine, generations of women (and men) washing not only their own clothes, but the clothes of their families! Hours on end, spent laboring to make sure their families have clean clothes to wear.
With that thought in mind, I would like to personally thank women everywhere for all the effort they put in (and have put in) to provide a better life for their families. Thank you so much!!! Without you, we wouldn't have the conveniences of modern technology or clean laundry.
Think about it, next time you throw a load of laundry into the washing machine.
Whenever I have free time I feel as though I should be doing something, especially on the weekend. Today was no different. The exception was that I realized I didn't need to go "out" in order to satisfy that feeling.
When I woke up, my mom was out in the courtyard washing laundry (as she is prone to do when it is sunny out). I had already planned on doing laundry today, when it occurred to me that I should take this opportunity to really immerse myself in the culture and "do as the natives do". Not that all Mexican women wash their laundry by hand, but it is allot more common here than back home. So, determined to try it out, I marched down to the local tienda and bought a bar of "Jabon de Zota".
I proceeded to spend the next two hours washing every article of clothing I own here (except for what I am wearing). It was utterly exhausting and oh so fulfilling! I had no idea what hard work it is to wash clothes using nothing more than a bucket of water, washboard, and bar of soap! Standing in the sunshine, soaked from the splashed water, I had a great deal of time to reflect on the mundane task of doing laundry. I have never really thought about it before.. I guess I always kind of took for granted the simplicity and convenience of washing machines. I mean, until recently, this is how it has been down. Imagine, generations of women (and men) washing not only their own clothes, but the clothes of their families! Hours on end, spent laboring to make sure their families have clean clothes to wear.
With that thought in mind, I would like to personally thank women everywhere for all the effort they put in (and have put in) to provide a better life for their families. Thank you so much!!! Without you, we wouldn't have the conveniences of modern technology or clean laundry.
Think about it, next time you throw a load of laundry into the washing machine.
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