Twelve Days of Oscars, Day 10: Animated Feature and Visual Effects

I was very nearly thwarted on my way to seeing the film that is my pick to win one of these categories! Specifically, I was trapped in an elevator for a few minutes. (Not knowing, of course, as one never does when the elevator fails to function correctly, whether it would be a mere few minutes.) I was in the parking garage at the cinema and the elevator went to the ground floor where I needed to get off but the doors opened just an inch or so and then stayed stuck, unmoving, unable to be moved. I couldn't push or pry the door open from inside. It opened that inch or so and then just sat, stuck. Definitely not enough room to get any leverage or squeeze through. It was trippy, and I didn't feel particularly scared, as first of all I had my phone in my hand, and secondly there was an emergency call button right there on the panel, which I used to speak to a man who promptly sent help. But. My initial thought was that, oh no, I was now going to be late to see Coco!

Animated Feature: The Breadwinner, The Boss Baby, Coco, Ferdinand, Loving Vincent

Visual Effects: Blade Runner 2049, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Kong: Skull Island, Star Wars: The Last Jedi, War for the Planet of the Apes

And indeed, after my elevator misadventure I was just a hair late getting into the Coco showing, but I could tell it was still the very beginning, with the kid voiceover narration introducing his family and his background. Let me just say, Coco is fantastic and deserves all the accolades it has been getting. Until that fateful elevator day when I saw it, I wanted Loving Vincent to win an Oscar. I absolutely adored Loving Vincent. It's unique and brilliant, and it's about my boy Vincent! (Van Gogh) The film is, as I understand it, painted. The process of painting animation is explained here, and it ends up looking really, really cool - Vincent's paintings, alive and fluid, telling his story. It was magical and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I was sure it deserved the Oscar. 

Then I saw Coco and thought - uh-oh. 

I really, really, really wish they could tie. It's the most fervently I've ever wished for an Oscars tie, or a tie for anything, really. 

Coco  is Pixar magic, and this year the magic tells a vibrant story set in Mexico Día de Muertos land. It's a boy who just wants to play guitar and release the music inside him who is thwarted by his family. I don't even want to describe the plot, because it's so much more than that, and the story hums and zips along as he wanders to the land of the dead. It's thrilling, touching, and spectacular. If it was any other Pixar film beating Loving Vincent, I'd be angry. If it's Coco, I understand. I seriously think if I was an Academy voter this year I would try to find one person to vote for one and I'd vote for the other, and encourage everyone I knew to do the same thing. 

As for the other nominees?  I didn't see The Breadwinner (really want to), and I really don' know that I'll make it to The Boss Baby, which is by all accounts terrible, and which is my absolute last priority on the checklist of all the nominated flicks. After the ceremony, I probably will lose interest  in checking that one off. I did see Ferdinand, and found it weirdly traumatic. It's about bulls who want to excel at bullfighting so as to avoid going to the slaughterhouse, who don't yet know that murder awaits them either way, but it's all talking animals/crazy characters/jolly times, so it's this kind of disconnect between the brutal truths of the plot and the song and dance and games you're watching. It was hard for me to experience. 

But Coco and Loving Vincent  are better films, seriously. 

As for the visual effects in otherwise "real" live action movies, I've seen three and a half nominees there: Blade Runner 2049, Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Kong: Skull Island, and half of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Haven't yet got around to War for the Planet of the Apes - which, by the way, I hear is fantastic. But how are the visual effects? I don't know. Guardians...2's plot was so not interesting to me that even as I was watching (half) of it I kept forgetting what was happening, but it all did look really cool. Star Wars is, well, Star Wars. I might root for Blade Runner 2049 here, because I think that movie pulled off every visual thing that it did wonderfully. Kong: Skull Island was ridiculous, but enjoyably ridiculous, and you kind of believed that these various creatures and island things were interacting with the characters, so it's definitely no slouch in this category. 

What to do, what to do. 

My mother used to ask me, when I would rant about this or that person I "hated" (like, an annoying celebrity, or George Dubya, or whoever) versus some other awful person, "Whose elevator would you rather be stuck in?" It really makes you think. Like, Dubya is terrible, but you'd rather be stuck in his elevator than Charles Manson's, right? Whose elevator would you rather be stuck in, Anne Hathaway or James Franco? O.J. Simpson or Caitlin Jenner? Trump or Putin? Like such. Well, I really did get stuck in an elevator this week trying to see my animated features, and maybe that's a helpful way to make Oscar picks: which elevator would I rather be stuck in, one playing Coco on an endless loop, or Loving Vincent? 

That's actually quite hard, but it would probably be the latter because it's kind of calmer. What about a Blade Runner 2049 elevator or a Kong: Skull Island? Definitely either of those over the Star Wars: The Last Jedi elevator. 

Picks!

Animated Feature: PLEASE can we have a tie? I'll vote for my pick, Loving Vincent, and you vote for what I think will win, Coco. 

Visual Effects: Blade Runner 2049, I think, is my pick. And I think that either it or maybe the ...Apes will win? 

Previous Day of Oscar:
Day 9, Animated Shorts and Live Action Shorts

Who Should Win the World Cup?

World Cup Fever: catch it! No, I didn't make that up (duh) but Brian and I have been saying that to each other for the past few weeks to amuse ourselves as we watch the 32 teams whittle themselves down to a mere four via the process of football aka soccer aka fútbol aka #becausefútbol matches. The benefit to being unemployed a part-time freelancer (me) and between jobs (him) is that we can watch pretty much every game and do the other things we need to do at other times of the day. Bosses are for suckers! Ha!

But seriously, folks. The World Cup is great fun, especially if you like soccer and if you like it when nations get together for peaceful endeavors instead of to blow one another to bits with guns and bombs. I'm big on the whole Make Sports Not War idea. Now, the USA sadly failed to advance to the quarter-finals, despite the Tim-Howard-and-his-many-saves performance, and some of Brian's and my other chosen teams are also out:  Mexico, where we lived and where the fútbol spirit is always fun, lost to the Netherlands and thus did not make the quarter-finals, while my good friends (Republic of) Korea and Honduras failed to make it out of their groups. The Honduras national team is always my first second choice (after my patriotic duty), ever since I happened to be in Honduras in 2008 for a Habitat for Humanity trip and we attended a World Cup qualifying match in San Pedro Sula. Vamos catrachos! Alas, they did not see fit to do any winning this year.And France, Brian's other-other team, lost to Germany the other day, while our CONCACAF solidarity pick Costa Rica, despite a noble effort, went down to the Netherlands. Since those Dutchies also beat Mexico, and even Chile (my other-other-other pick, although that was early and didn't eliminate Chile), I am basically against the Netherlands right now, my fondness for Curaçao and the former Netherlands Antilles notwithstanding. (And despite the fact that I like the color orange.)

Which means I need to cheer for Argentina against the Netherlands tomorrow. What about the other match, today's exciting encounter between Germany and Brazil? Well, folks, I have nothing against Brazil (in fact, I really want to go there, AND we've been drinking caipirinhas during several of the games...) but Brazil beat both Chile and Colombia, which was annoying, plus when it comes to choosing between a massively hyped superpower home team favorite and their opponent, I'm generally going to go for the opponent. Guten tag, Deutschland!

In honor of the World Cup, I've already added a film from each of the eight quarterfinals teams to my Netflix queue, and I've also decided to add a book from each of the final four countries' literature to my to-read list. Do you have any suggestions for a great book by any authors from Brazil, Germany, Argentina, or the Netherlands?

Trouble in Paradise

Well, I don't want to fall off the blogging wagon (or is that get on the blogging wagon, if being on the wagon means you're not doing something? because then I'd be trying to avoid falling off the not-blogging wagon, right? OK, that's what I meant. ANYway...) but I've been a little busy and uninspired the past few days. Let's see what happened....

Our good friends Ann and Kyle, whom we first met in Korea and have since hung out with in two different cities in China, are on vacation in Phuket, so we all got to hang out in our third country together. Naturally, when you gather four expat teachers around a table, it's pretty easy to guess what sorts of beverages will be on that table. I spent more money and read fewer pages in the four days after their arrival than I really care to think about. But, a good time was had by all as we took second place at the weekly trivia night at Roxy Bar, spent an afternoon at Patong (including: barefoot lunch in the sand, sunset, and a game of pool at a shady bar once darkness fell), spent a day at Laem Singh (more barefoot lunch, they paddle boarded, and I flew! my first para-sailing adventure!), wandered the Phuket Old Town Festival that so nicely coincides with these Jan-Feb stints we like to have in this place (last time, in 2012, it fell on our first weekend here and we've since referred to it as our "welcome party"), and then, as if that weren't enough, set sail to Ko Phi Phi!

Yes, I'm still talking about the same four-day period. Naturally, Kyle and Ann planned to head to Phi Phi Don because they'd not seen it before on their first (lackluster, monsoon season) quick trip to Phuket. Brian and I had done a day trip to Phi Phi in 2012, but this time we decided to stay over in a bungalow and see what all the beach fuss was about. Oh, my god. The fuss, apparently, is about madness! Kyle said the beach smelled like "gasoline and bad decisions" and I'm inclined to agree.

First of all, though, I would like to confess that I am ever so slightly underwhelmed by the KPP. I can't tell you how much I heard about it being one of the best beaches in the world. At the risk of sounding spoiled, I've seen other beaches that pleased me just as much. Now, the rising limestone rock faces surrounding the cove are apparently what gets Phi Phi its accolades, as well as the by-all-accounts superb diving below the surface (of which I didn't partake -- we just kayaked and snorkeled a bit), but I just don't see the point of dragging all of those boats, people, food, drinks, infrastructure, construction, shops, etc. to this tiny spit of land. It seems better suited to be a day trip or camp-on-the-beach place. I've been hearing so much about how Thailand/Phuket are basically doing nothing wise with regard to the rampant development as tourists flock to this paradisiacal place that is going to be an environmental disaster in a few minutes here if someone doesn't start paying attention, and this hit me harder than ever at Ko Phi Phi.

It's like Obama all over again: while I appreciate Ko Phi Phi to a certain extent, it didn't captivate me. It's like I'm missing something that others see, which is generally how I felt whenever Barack opened his mouth in 2008. "But have you heard him speeeeeeeeeeeeak?" the people would swoon. Yes, yes I had. There was no there there, you might say. Funny enough, on the boat on the way to Phi Phi we got in just such a politically themed discussion, which ended with Kyle and I placing a bet on Hillary 2016.  He thinks she's going to win; I think she's not going to run. (Why? Because fuck all y'all, that's why. She should have been prez in 2008 and everyone knows it, including B & Michelle O.) She's fated to be like that other great HC in U.S. politics, Henry Clay, the great compromiser, the perhaps smartest and shrewdest of all the peeps of his time (up there with my boy JQA, at any rate), the hardest worker, the one who was destined to be president, like, four times in a row but was continually thwarted by upsarts (Van Buren, Polk) and assholes (Jackson) and other bizarre political circumstances.

Back to Phi Phi. As for the nighttime debauchery, there was certainly a lot of fire involved. Juggling fire, shooting flames on a lick of gasoline, spinning fire, flaming jump ropes, you name it. Where there's fire, there's bound to be smoke, and I'm sure that the lungs of many were indulging that night. Interestingly, while we were enjoying some beers at the Chillout Bar (I think that's what it was called), I looked around at the spectacle unfolding up and down the beach and stated that I felt reasonably certain someone somewhere was going all Walter White on this scene and that there was probably meth in the crowd. Upon returning to the mainland and picking up the latest Phuket News, I read two stories of recently busted meth dealers. So there's that.

It's not that I don't recommend going to Phi Phi, but I do recommend lowering your expectations bungalow wise, if you don't spring for a fancy resort, and I do hope you can handle the smell of more than a few bad decisions, most relating to sewage and other basic infrastructure delights that take on new meaning when you have thousands of revelers showing up on a sandbar. Meanwhile, Brian got food poisoning, and it seems most likely timing-wise that it was from something he ate there, which is perhaps adding to my negative take on these last few days. (And no, I'm not one of those people who calls every twinge of the gut food poisoning.)

And so we come to the one-week point:  one week left in Phuket (this time!). I have accomplished a bunch of things, and by a long shot I have not accomplished all of the things I had hoped to accomplish at the end of week three, let alone a full day into week four, but isn't that the nature of life and creativity and work and passion and also beer?

Furthermore, we had to face a tough decision here. On a whim, I applied for a newspaper editor position here and much to my delight/anguish, was offered the job. The unfortunate reality, beyond the low salary (not Mexico-teaching low, but lower-than-China-teaching low), is that I couldn't accept it because we have things to do at the moment, plans that can't be easily altered, a few engagements in the U.S., some life details to attend to, financial commitments, and so on, and one can't really ask an employer to hold a job for two months, now can one?  I had a majorly traumatic 48 hours trying to figure out how to make it work, and when I realized I couldn't make it work, I accepted that but still felt a little sad.

The moral of the story is: can we have a few more filtered water coolers and a whole lot less plastic tossed into the bins/street/ocean? Can we work on the public transit on this island and ditch the vast numbers of motos, private cars, and many accidents? (The having-to-get-a-car-if-we-live-here thing was part of the anguish, I might add, financially speaking. Why can't this place get some nice, clean shuttle buses going and discourage so much individual motorized transport? Also: bicycles, people! Bicycles! Alas, I know there's a rainy season...)  Can we please try to keep everything magic and beautiful?

I would, however, recommend that all the assholes in China who have the evil nerve to tie up their cats take a trip to Phuket and see how beautiful and glorious it is to let cats have their freedom to walk around to which they are entitled. There are plenty of Chinese tourists here; I hope they get inspired when they see cats living how they should live to tell friends back home to knock it off with the cruel restraints.

Rock the vote, but no votes on the rocks

This is an interesting time to be in Thailand. If you have been reading any news stories about things other than Justin Bieber and the polar vortex, you might have heard something about the protests in Bangkok. They have been going on for a while; I started reading about them well before we left China. But, they are basically confined to Bangkok, and here in Phuket, an especially oblivious foreigner might not know that they were even going on. Especially if one flew directly into Phuket and didn't even have to think about Bangkok along the way.

I've kept up with the news a bit, but of late it seems to have been mostly a low-level agitation. A few people, tragically, have died during the unrest. My understanding is that for the most part, you can avoid the protests. Friends in Bangkok report that they are going about their lives. Now, however, there will be something for us to notice here in Phuket town. Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra has called for elections, trying to end the protests. Unfortunately, the protesters, who think the PM's government is hopelessly corrupt, aren't jumping on board the election idea, and are encouraging others to boycott. The elections are going to happen, despite the threat of more disturbances as the elections are protested.

Will there be increased unrest and violence? I can't say. What I can say is that here in Thailand, just like in Mexico when we were there, the bars will be closed on election day. And these elections are going to last for TWO days!  Can you believe it?  This Saturday and Sunday, no happy hour for us! I haven't heard if alcohol sales in stores are also suspended. Good times, reminiscing about our last minute dash into the convenience store Oxxo in Queretaro to buy a 12-pack before the 6 p.m. cut-off; they had already draped coverings over the beer coolers and everything!  But we convinced them that it was only 5:58p.m.  It was a close call, though.

Definitely have to plan ahead for our beer drinking for this weekend here in Thailand!

Guangzhou and permanence and skies

I've been having technical issues recently - it may be time for a new laptop - and that is why the posting schedule has been yet again thrown off. Sorry! 

Five months of living in Guangzhou. Seven months remain. How does Guangzhou compare to the other places I have lived and taught?

Well, Korea in general is easier in a few ways than China in general, as far as just living there goes. In Korea, an expat teacher feels s/he can pretty much do whatever s/he wants all the time. This is largely true, within reason, but the problem is that so very many expat teachers -- so very many twentysomethings the world over, of course -- lose their focus on that "within reason" part. In China, I don't have the same sense of abandon that I can do whatever I want and that everything will be conveniently somehow available. Many, many things are here, sure, in terms of food, fashion, transport, technology, etc. But, I do have to put forth what I perceive as more effort as opposed to the ease of daily life. It is also so much easier to become functionally literate in Korean, and being unable to read everything around me is really, really, really annoying -- almost as annoying as being unable to find an affordable literacy/reading/writing class here.  Living in Mexico is on a whole other planet from the Asian bewildering-days experiences. I mean, living in Mexico is not even exotic or particularly "different" from my Southwest U.S. heritage, geography-climate-food-wise -- plus, Spanish is easy, being in North America is easy, eating is cheap and delicious and easy, and basically everything except cockroaches is easy there. But, you don't get paid enough money to live or do anything much, so you definitely finding yourself wanting to head back to Asia.

Job-wise, I much much much prefer my current gig to all of my other ESL teaching jobs, mainly for the reasons of hours worked per week, the materials and curriculum provided, and the fabulous adult students as compared to the cat-herding atmosphere of teaching five or six or seven classes of Korean kids and 'tweens all day.  I loathed the split shifts in Mexico and the only problem here is that we have had a very recent development in which they have changed all the foreign teachers from five to six-day schedules for the summer (and possibly beyond). Needless to say, we are livid at having our "weekends" (two days off in a row) taken away. My 26 hours of work are now spread across six days, so I've got time to organize my life and do things, but can't take weekend trips for three months -- or possibly more -- which is so lame.

Food is easy and cheap here. Not quite as cheap as Mexico, more vegetable options than Korea (and far less seaweed, thank you very much! said the allergic-to-seaweed-lady), not much English on menus, lots of pictures though, and in Guangzhou, plenty of Western, Indian, and other foreign restaurants including multiple expat-filled pubs and taverns.

But am I planning to stay in Guangzhou past this year? No. One might wonder why, since I seem to like the job and whatnot. Yesterday, it hit me quite strongly while I was running, the reason why I won't be here forever. As I ran through my neighborhood of tall, gray, skyscrapers, "Useless Desires" came on my running play list and Patty Griffin sang that wonderful line of hers, "The sky turns to fire/against the telephone wire..."  I looked around me and realized that in the gray Guangzhou rainy season haze and the utter lack of expansive view, I haven't seen that sight in ages! For that alone, I will hie myself to a good ol' open space to wander and ramble again in my lifetime.

And so this is 1/3 of the year,and what have I done?

Blog! Blog o' mine! Here I am. I am so sorry, little bloglet, to have neglected you so, but I was stuck behind this big ol' wall* and I've only just found my way out and back to you, oh dear little blog. And readers. Readers! There you are, reading the blog, because I have come back, and it is nice to be with you again. What, the readers must be breathlessly asking themselves, has life on the other side of the wall been like? This is indeed a question to be answered. But where to begin?
*(a wall of fuego, as they say) 

Today it has been four months since Brian and I boarded the plane that would take us across the Pacific Ocean to Hong Kong, from where we would hie ourselves up the road a piece to our new home for another year of teachin'-in-Asia. As I mentioned in my last post before disappearing, we accepted a job in Guangzhou, also formerly known as Canton by ye olde foreign westerners, and so it has come to pass that we are now living in the Pearl River Delta and learning the ins and outs of life in this big, crowded, brightly lit, restaurant- and skyscraper-filled metropolis. It has also come to pass that we have learned very few of the linguistic ins and outs ... but more on that in a later post devoted to language troubles.

In fact, our first four months of living in China have been an insane whirlwind of taking forever to get settled and kind of being forced to travel all the time, thus dragging out even more the time it takes to get settled. I know, poor us, right? Oh, we've just been forced to take these international vacations, boo-hoo... but seriously, I would not plan it this way if I had my scheduling druthers. First and foremost, this is because I am a complete and total save-the-best-for-last kind of gal, and I would much much much much much rather start out my year contract in Asia by diving into weeks of work work work and then, a few months in, start having holidays, and I would take my annual leave vacation and my long holidays as late in the year as possible, whereas we of course had quite the opposite by arriving in January because that meant Spring Festival was right around the corner.

• February / Spring Festival / Lunar New Year / The Philippines

Therefore, we had to start planning a vacation before we even had internet in our apartment and practically before we even had an apartment and definitely before we had received our first paycheck. This is not as easy as it looks, my friends! But the alternative would be to sit at home for our 9 days off in a row (shudder to think!) and furthermore to squander the biggest holiday of the year. It would be like moving to the U.S. on December 5th and not figuring out what to do with yourself for Christmas break. Unheard of! But because of the aforementioned lack of even one paycheck, we had to plot this carefully, and that's where Expedia saved us by popping up in my inbox with a last-minute deal from Hong Kong to Manila, and so we were off to the Philippines for the Lunar New Year holiday, and we rang in the Year of the Snake on the beach at Boracay, followed up by a few days of strolling around Manila. And we planned the whole thing using Starbucks' wi-fi. (This concludes your corporate shout-outs paragraph.)

• March / Hong Kong 

Of course, this meant we had now passed through Hong Kong multiple times without ever being able to really stop and smell the Hong Kong roses; we just kept arriving and departing at the airport and the Guangzhou-Kowloon train station and even riding the subway and having lunch at an Indian restaurant or grabbing a coffee but not getting to explore the city. The city a mere couple of hours down the road from us, this fabulously exciting, beloved-by-every-traveler, one-of-the-greatest-cities-on-Earth city. And so it was time for a proper trip, a "weekend" in Hong Kong (our weekend actually being on Wednesday and Thursday, due to our work schedule - but also we don't work until 6 p.m. on Fridays, which is awesome). So we got back on the train and spent a couple of days checking out all the glories of Victoria Peak and Victoria Harbour, Tsim Sha Tsui and Admiralty, happy hour in Causeway Bay, the steep and winding streets, the dim sum, the laser light show, the art museum, the tailors who whip up a custom-fit suit in 24 hours or less, and not least of all the markets and shops and street of kitchen supplies where Brian had his sights set on wok shopping. In fact, Brian had basically been talking about buying a wok since the day we had our first job interview for this China gig back in Mexico in September, and he had determined that a particular street in Hong Kong would be the best place to procure a wok, and so procure it he did, along with some other wok-cooking utensil essentials including a knife that had to be checked as luggage on the train back to Mainland China. Since we had traveled with only our backpacks, the authorities took the big ol' chopping knife -- one of those rectangular deals that you might have seen being whipped around on a "But wait there's more!" infomercial in years gone by -- and wrapped it in newspaper and put a little tag around it and off it went down the luggage conveyor belt, to be retrieved by us back in Guangzhou.

• April / Macau

And back in Guangzhou, we had another holiday on the way. I really wanted to catch my breath, get into a routine, attend my Wednesday ("Saturday") morning Chinese class more regularly, and start saving up some freakin' money, but instead we had to decide what to do for Tomb-Sweeping Day on April 3rd, which gave us a three-day "weekend" April 2-3-4. The obvious answer, of course, was to head to the other kinda-sorta-China-but-you-cross-a-border-to-get-there Special Administrative Region hereabouts, that being Macau. And I am here to tell you that Macau. Is. Awesome!  So much awesome is the Macau! It was Portugese, you know, or perhaps you don't, seeing as Macau kind of flies under the radar in terms of Places the World Often Jabbers About, but like Hong Kong, it, too, has reverted to being part of China. Sort of. This is actually an ongoing debate, as to whether it counts as going to another country when we go through immigration to Hong Kong and Macau. All I know is that Macau now offers the following: cobblestone streets, Portugese egg tarts and other ridiculously delicious cheap food, and gambling galore! "The Vegas of the East," they say. (They who? I don't know.) Massive big name casinos -- Wynn, Venetian, MGM Grand, you name it, and I have rarely enjoyed wandering around any city for two days quite as much as I enjoyed wandering around Macau. Oh, yes, I will be back there.

• April Redux / Vietnam 

But no rest for the weary!! Because now our company was suggesting - strongly suggesting - that if anyone would please like to take a couple of days of unpaid leave during the month of April then we should definitely take them. Please do so. Please. And maybe some teachers might be forced to reduce hours if we didn't get enough volunteers, please, and thanks. What's an English-teaching couple to do, but realize that May 1st is going to be YET ANOTHER holiday (Labor Day/International Workers' Day -- you can thank Grover Cleveland for it not being celebrated on that day in the U.S.) and therefore if one were to take a mere three days of unpaid leave (highly appreciated by one's regional director!) and switch one's days off in the previous week, one would find oneself with eight consecutive days off that are clearly meant for one to travel to Vietnam...? And so, there we were again, eking out a budget for tickets, hotel, visa, etc. in order to not lose this time-off opportunity (I know, I know, such problems...but SERIOUSLY why did this all have to be in our first three and a half months?)  and then we were off to Hanoi! By the way, if you have yet to look at a map, Guangzhou is very close to Vietnam -- closer to Hanoi than to either Shanghai or Beijing, for example. Anyway, Vietnam just may have been the most revelatory trip yet, largely because of Sapa. Holy cripes! This mountain destination is ten kinds of amazing, and I can't believe that before whipping out Lonely Planet Southeast Asia on a Shoestring I had never even heard of it. All I know is that a wise man would do a lot less dropping of bombs on northern Vietnam, and a lot more sitting in a hotel on the Sapa hillside sipping his beverage of choice and staring at the stunning view.

Which brings us to mid-May. Which means it's our birthday month! Which means that Brian and I totally have to spend another weekend in Hong Kong, right? (Right?!) I mean, what else would one do for one's birthday when one lives a mere two-hour, $24-ish dollar train ride from the H-K? So that's where we'll be. Next week. And then I am going to just absolutely sit still for a minute and ... plan my celebration of the upcoming Dragon Boat Festival.

Meanwhile, you want to know what it could possibly be like to live in China. Isn't it an interesting question? Sure it is. However, I'm so close to the situation that I'm having a hard time at the moment figuring out what to talk about. But now that I'm back on the blog (praise be!) I will happily answer all your questions. So what are they? I would love to know what you want to know about life in Guangzhou. Ask and ye shall receive -- especially if you ask in the form of a comment here -- because the blog is back! Check in every Monday and Thursday for all the latest and greatest Linda Without Borders happenings. Although lately it feels like a more appropriate name might be Linda With Lots and Lots of Borders to Cross...

Farewell, Querétaro!

Here are some things I will miss about Querétaro : 

Sada y el Bombon: Only my favorite revista independiente de cultura urbana that I have ever read. Countless examples of simpatico...this magazine is witty, clever, informative, creative, artistically minded, socially conscious, and completely and totally on my wavelength. I miss it already. I have missed it since the first day I ever read it, by merely thinking about not reading it.

The plazas by day: Careful readers of this blog (if there are any left) will know that the plazas of Querétaro are one of its chief attractions. I should have spent more time wandering the plazas of the Centro during the afternoons in between the commitments of my (horrible, exhausting, I'm-so-glad-it's-over) split shift schedule. I am glad for the time I did spend strolling in them. There is something magical about sunlight on the multi-colored, colonial architecture buildings, the spray of the fountains, and the dark gray cobblestones. By the time of my farewell plaza walk, on my last full day in Querétaro, the city Christmas decorations were up and I stood and stared at the sun-sparkled tinsel that spelled out "Querétaro les desea un feliz Navidad" and I felt full of joy. 

The plazas by night: Then again, there is much to be said for nighttime on the plazas. I am just glad we lived across the street from the Centro so we could spend a lot of time there. I loved the music, the arts, the random creativeness, the restaurants and the coffee shops that I found on the plazas, and I loved strolling through them at night to partake of these things.

Volcanes: I am not sure how this secret of Mexican food has remained so well kept, but this was my favorite discovery in the cuisine of Querétaro. Essentially, a volcan is two small, round, crispy tortillas with a whole bunch of melted cheese in between, and some meat usually, which is why I feel guilty about loving them, but holy schmoly are they delicious!!! It's basically a little sandwich with what look like tortilla chips instead of bread. And don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not at all sure why Taco Bell has not jumped all over this. They have totally done their part to co-opt (and slightly alter) gorditas, chalupas, and so on. Volcanes are absolutely meant for Taco Bell's menu, and without even much alteration, although the cheese would never be as good. My mouth is watering just thinking about all the volcanes I am not going to eat anymore. 

The aqueduct: This is Querétaro's pride and joy, and I made sure to take a walk up the little hill to take one last look at it on my final full day, too. I will miss driving past the arches every day...and I won't even be there to see the fancy new expanded lanes of the thoroughfare that goes through the arches when they are completed, although I did get to witness the majority of their construction (didn't I just love my evening rush hour commute!) 

Learning about Mexican history, especially indigenous history but also the interesting Indpendencia and the Revolucion: Sometimes I did this by visiting museums. Sometimes I did this by reading. Sometimes it was by talking to people or by just being there to soak up cultural awareness. To paraphrase Suzanne Sugarbaker, there was quite a bit of Mexico that I did, indeed, want to soak up.




Nevertheless, it is time to move on and actually try to earn some money and make a living in the world again (what a concept). That's OK. I like to think Benito will continue to keep watch over Querétaro in my absence.

Mi día de acción de gracias

Allow me to set the scene: in the home stretch of my stint in Querétaro , I have been afflicted with a severe case of senioritis. I have low motivation to do anything, whether work or social or shopping or whatever, and the dumb little things are bugging me, like my local Oxxo on the corner being completely out of coffee at 7:30 this morning (what?!)  Let alone the more annoying stuff, like buses not stopping to pick up passengers at the bus stop, which is just a thing they (fail to) do sometimes, or even the bus stopping at the bus stop because it is at a red light, but still refusing to open the door for passengers, as happened today. Because that, my friends, is the horrible logic of the Querétaro city bus system sometimes. Add to this my so-close-I-can-taste-it flight, and I am just a recipe for grumpiness and "get-me-the-heck-out-of-here!" MAJOR senioritis.

Today is Thanksgiving in the U.S.A., but here in Mexico it was another Thursday and I headed off to my morning ritual. In the late morning, I had a conversation with a lovely friend in which we both lamented a few frustrations and I mentioned that in my senioritis/low motivation/high irritation state of mind it is probably better if I just don't say anything at all, as Thumper's mother would advise. From there, I headed to the bus stop, with Songs--->Play All on my MP3 player, listening to whatever was next in alphabetical order. I was in the Ds. As I approached the bus stop on the sunny sidewalk, I listened to Indigo Girls' "Deconstruction." Although the song reflects on a relationship, it has some nicely constructed lyrics that make a person think about ALL the things that make up her life, lyrics such as:
As we sat stuck, I could hear the trash truck
Making its way through the neighborhood,
Picking up the thrown out, different from house to house -- 
We get to decide what we think is no good.
We're sculpted from youth; the chipping away makes me weary
And as for the truth, it seems like we just pick a theory
And it's the one that justifies our daily lives...
                 --lyrics by the one and only Emily Saliers

So, that was the slightly self-indulgent, highly contemplative mood I was in when the bus came. I relaxed to the next song, letting the music of Enya's "Deora Ar Mo Chroi" wash over me (not really knowing what her lyrics were saying because it's one of her Irish language songs), and so the wistful mental stage was set for Concrete Blonde's cover of Woody Guthrie's protest song "Deportee." 

Written by Guthrie, popularized by Pete Seeger, and covered by many, "Deportee" talks about a small plane crash in 1948 in Los Gatos canyon, near Fresno, in which 28 migrant workers who were being flown to Mexico died. The news reports apparently named the U.S. flight crew but did not mention the workers' names, dismissively noting that those passengers were just deportees. (Read more here if you like Wikipedia.)

I rode the bus down Constituyentes, thinking about being in Mexico, and thinking about how all of my peeps back in the U.S. of A. were already gathering with family and friends, munching on appetizers, preparing turkey and potatoes and vegetables, a bountiful spread, a cornucopia. Everyone would be ready to eat the plentiful harvest, food likely gathered from the earth by the hands of migrant workers who probably won't be thanked on this Thanksgiving day. Concrete Blonde sang Guthrie's words:


Well, some are illegal and some are not wanted
Our contract is out and we've got to move on
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves
Adios a mi Juan, adios Rosalita, Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you will be deportees...


I knew that when I got back to my apartment I would log on to Facebook and see thankful status updates, and pictures of beautifully set tables, and the occasional plea to not spoil this day by shopping or, as we call it now, "door-busting." I would think about everyone enjoying a day of warmth and tradition and gratitude. I would grapple with thoughts about the celebration of an idea -- a mythical but inspiring feast, a feast of sharing, a feast in which the immigrants were welcomed and helped to survive in their new land.

I felt small. I felt alone. I also felt suddenly grateful in yet another new way to be able to look around and see and know Mexico -- even when I'm sick of being here and the bus driver infuriates me and the Oxxo runs out of coffee (seriously). I offered my thanks to the universe that I could know that Mexico is history and mountains, highways and industrial parks, museums and cathedrals, poetry and folklore, Nezahualcóyotl and Fuentes and Kahlo, fashion and magazines and film, guitar strumming at parties, jukeboxes, comida corrida, the weird bird that squawks outside my apartment window, and so much more. Even at the end of senior year, one still has lessons to learn and things to think about, but the more important question is how to share one's knowledge with the big, wide world.

Normally, my Guthrie Thanksgiving song is Arlo's "Alice's Restaurant Massacree," but this year, I'm all about his father's song instead. I don't have a video of that Concrete Blonde version to share, but here are the Highwaymen:

A short list of things I am REALLY not into*

*list is not all-inclusive

1. Being cold in my apartment.
2. Being cold when I wake up in the morning.
3. Being cold while getting dressed in the morning.
4. Being cold in the shower.
5. Being cold after a shower.
6. Being cold indoors, ever, really.
7. Being cold in an apartment/climate where there isn't even any heat source/system (apart from the sun) because it's not really supposed to be that cold.
8. Being cold on a boat on the Yangtze River.
9. Being trapped in a meat locker, with or without Bobby Brady.

Most of the above have happened to me. There is one exception. I bet even the least among ye can pick it out. But did you also know that the first seven are happening to me right now?

I heard that Tropical Storm Rosa in the Pacific was to blame for our rain-filled weekend, but this whole cold front thing? So not OK. What am I supposed to do, light a fire on our tile floor? And the way our apartment is built, apparently the warm afternoon sun has no way of reaching inside to eradicate the damage of the overnight cold. So I'm sitting here wearing a sweater and hat inside whereas if I walked outside I could be in a tank top and shorts. What the huh...?! This tells me I need to either: a)buy a new laptop battery so I can go work outside  b)leave Mexico before it gets any colder.  Oh, guess what? One of those things is in the works....

Just to end on a positive note, I would like to point out that I have been generally grateful for our overall temperature-consistent apartment (everyone knows that the temperature is SO not the real flaw of this apartment building) and I would also like to point out that I am very appreciative of cold things, often, including but not limited to: snow, skiing, wintry Christmases and iced coffee. But when one is inside one's shelter, one should be warm. Period.

Regarding Guanajuato

No other city in the world looks like Guanajuato. Technically this is true about every town and city of course, because they are different cities, so necessarily there is something different, but I mean in the first-glance way. You could throw a few downtown buildings pictures or random neighborhood pictures or highway pictures in front of me and I might be hard pressed to tell you from just a snippet whether it was Dayton or Terre Haute. (I can't picture either of these cities in my head right now, so there you go.) Or, frankly, Denver or Kunming -- you all would be surprised how much China looks like the U.S., or was that the U.S. looks like China? You've seen one sprawling highway oil-fueled superpower, you've seen them all, I suppose. But my point is ---> Guanajuato. It doesn't look like anything else.

The city of Guanajuato, in the Mexican state of Guanajuato, is nestled in between mountains and built up the hillsides and full of old buildings and lookout points and stairs and slopes and colors, so it ends up looking like this:

Guanajuato. Photo by Brian!

This is one of the pictures Brian took during our recent weekend sojourn. We arrived in time for the tail end of the Festival Cervantino, which is a big festival of visual arts and literature and music and theatre and whatnot that happens in Guanajuato and also a bit in some surrounding cities. Our weekend getaway began in San Miguel de Allende, and then we had Sunday, October 21st and part of Monday, October 22nd in Guanajuato. There were sooooo many (drinking) festival Cervantino people (drunk) piled in the streets -- sometimes, actually piled in the streets, sleeping on their jacket/sleeping bag/duffel bag before heading back to the bus station or whatever. Loads of young people, college students, rock music fans, creative types, pierced types, people from Mexico City, people from Guadalajara, and whatnot. But all ages and all sorts.

We stayed at a hostel right in the Centro, about a four-minute walk from my new favorite building in the world, the Teatro Juarez. Our time in Guanajuato consisted of lots of strolling and some good eatin' (of course, because that is what happens everywhere in Mexico) as well as climbing the hill for some great views, admiring buildings and plazas, drinking a beer or two, wandering the streets, eating some more, and so forth.

Lord knows I have not been a prolific blogger during our Mexico stint, and I regret to say that part of the reason for this is we have been less mobile than I generally like to be, and I have not been too keen on blogging about my day-to-day schedule and duties. We often stay put in Querétaro, with only occasional galavanting. This is due largely to our exhausting schedule, lack of weekends, lack of holidays, and lack of funds. But the few weekend getaways we have had have been very nice. And this was one of them!

For those keeping the body count, Guanajuato is also one of the Safe Cities, as it were... one of the places around here where, when we tell someone we're going there, we don't get the raised eyebrow or any warnings about being safe. It's not as if we've even considered taking a spontaneous Monterrey-Durango-Juarez road trip or anything like that, but there is the occasional unrest in various other parts of the country, too. Not really Guanajuato, though. And yet! AND yet! Brian and I managed to see our first dead body in Mexico. On the bus from San Miguel de Allende to Guanajuato, we were rounding the curve at one part of a sprawling lake and I glanced from my bus window down to the patch of dirt where waves lapped the rocks, and there it was  -- a body, lying face down on the sand, partly but not very muchly covered with some blue tarp/blankety thing. There were a half dozen police on the case and a bunch of bystanders around, too, and it could have been anything -- accidental drowning, or foul play, or suicide, who knows? But hey! How often does that happen on your little highway bus journey? "Look out the window, honey, at the pretty trees...the sunny blue sky...the wildflowers on the side of the road...oh, don't miss the dead body right there..."

No dead bodies once we got to the city of Guanjuato. You know what they do have, though? These amazing roads that are built into and under the aforementioned hills. I've never seen anything like it. Tunnels and tunnels and gray brick arches of more tunnels and roads under roads and rock...I've never had a city bus stop in a tunnel to let people on and off before, but there we were. You can just kind of wind your way down and in and around beneath parts of the city. It's fascinating.

Central Mexico. It's where it's at, yo! And I don't just say that because our schedule and salary don't allow us to travel any farther...

I'm With the Band

It was a spectacular Saturday in San Miguel. We are definitely trying to utilize these last few weekends here that are actual weekends (i.e., when we don't have Saturday a.m. duties) for galavanting to nearby towns and cities here in Central Mexico. On Saturday, October 20th, we headed back to San Miguel de Allende, the pretty little colonial city beloved by expats and others that is nestled in the hills about an hour's drive northwest of Querétaro. We had never stayed the night in San Miguel before, but this time we were planning to make a whole state-of-Guanajuato weekend out of it, so we booked a cute little hostel a few blocks from San Migeul's central garden/plaza. 

During the afternoon, I walked around in perfect sunny weather partaking of the city, the expats, the galleries, the shops, the plazas, the newspapers and posters and other announcements of evening events, and just so much art. For decades I have known about the artist/writer expat scene in San Miguel de Allende, and I have even known a few people who have come to Mexico to spend some time there, but it's another thing to just wander around in it and be confronted with the many gringos, the Texas accents, and the rather polished and shiny manner in which they carry themselves through their afternoon. Cultural centers, art and craft fairs, yoga classes, embroidered bags, brightly colored clothes, not a few items that are - frankly - overpriced...all these things are part of the scene of course. I just kept walking into galleries when they caught my eye, at least one on every block, and I loved all of the Day of the Dead themed stuff making its presence known. 

I become curious about people who settle permanently/indefinitely in other countries. Not because I can't imagine being an expatriate, or because I would miss the U.S., or because MURrica is the best or anything silly like that. No, it's because I can't imagine how on earth they decide. With so many countries on Earth, how do they pick just one?  (Note: I can't figure out how people decide on just one city IN the U.S. or other home country in which to live, either.) 

As the early evening began, Brian and I headed out together to San Agustin Chocolates y Churros, which was just a little bit of heaven served on a plate, and with a great view out the window to a UNESCO World Heritage temple, to boot! The "chocolates" are drinks -- you know, like hot chocolate, only so not at all like hot chocolate you've ever had, but so much more! I got the Spanish style - less sweet, more yum. I also had a churro filled with caramel. OH MY GOD. Yes, I said a churro filled with caramel. Even after Brian and I finished our treats we stared at the churro-making guy through the window from the sidewalk for a while.

Night had fallen, and we did a bit more wandering and rambling, making our way back to the central garden plaza, as usual, where we enjoyed people watching, expat watching, and mariachi watching. (Of course, expats and mariachis are people, too, but the act of watching and the different things you care to observe are what differentiate these.) After a while, we headed down Hidalgo street to a bar I had discovered on my afternoon ramble; it caught my eye because it was a blues bar with 2-for-1 Dos Equis specials. (Insert "I don't always ___ but when I do ____" joke here.) It turns out to be owned by an expat who previously had a bar in Acapulco but who wisely moved on when that city turned to a violent, dangerous, scary place a couple years ago. We asked him about that a little bit, and he replied that he watched it turn from a nice place to a bad place. "I remember when it turned bad. I remember the day," he said. Ahhh, the war on drugs. Good ol' violence, solving problems. Totally not at all. 

I had a place picked out for dinner, but we also had vague plans to meet up with one of Brian's students who is in a band and had informed Brian that they were playing in San Miguel that night at some "event." Not a bar, we knew that, but our directions were kind of strange and bilingually confusing. Nonetheless, we intrepidly set out and continued to enjoy our strolling and people handing us flyers about karaoke and whatnot. After a long, arduous search for "the arch" (which I knew! I knew where to find it! I was right, even though the doormen threw us off!) and a conversation with the doormen who were like, "No, this is a wedding" and a trek too far up the hill when we didn't believe enough in ourselves to insist we had found it, we ended up getting in contact and the band was, in fact, playing at the wedding -- at a really cool wedding spot on the hill overlooking San Miguel de Allende. SUCH a great spot. I absolutely must have a party there someday. The musician-student-friend came down to meet us when the band was on a break and we went in with him past the doorman ("hi, it's us again, we were right after all!") and they gave us a free drink (thanks!) and then we went up to the dance floor/plaza/band set-up (AWESOME lookout over the lights of the town) and we just kind of sat back"stage" which was basically like two chairs up these little steps from which we could watch the good times roll. It was completely and totally random. There was no real reason to be there, really, other than just hanging with the band. Just enjoying the view, man. 

At midnight I turned into a pumpkin even though the band kept playing (they were going to end at 1 a.m., they said...no, at midnight...well, maybe not at midnight....who knows?) because I was starving and so we parted merrily and headed back down the hill to the restaurant that serves food until 2 a.m. On this walk, we were able to check out even more of the San Miguel nightlife, and my goodness! There's quite a bit of it. People dressed to the nines, pulsing music, lines spilling out of clubs, people spilling over sidewalks, drunk people, happy people, pretty people, a great time being had.... it is definitely worth spending a night in San Miguel de Allende in addition to days. 

Sunday morning we stopped at the Starbucks on our way to the bus station. Let me just say right now that I'm pretty sure the San Miguel Starbucks is the coolest Starbucks ever. It's right down in the center of the town across from the plaza in an old building and it has arches and high ceilings and wood and it's L-shaped and the collection of colonial architecture buildings has a courtyard and iron-barred windows and whatnot. Indescribably awesome for a Starbucks. Love it. Totally wished we had time to stay and sip our coffees there, but we had to hustle to catch our ride to the city of Guanajuato.

So, the first half of the weekend? Lots of thumbs up! 

Querétaro with six weeks to go

It's a relaxing Friday evening at home. I've got the baseball game on TV (trying to decide which of the Atlanta Braves' recent playoff nemeses to root against, San Francisco or St. Louis?) and I'm attending to various tasks, both functional and creative, on my to-do list.  I'm also rather enjoying some cookies that I bought at the Mercado Escobedo earlier today. I have time to get a bit of writing and reading done.  All in all, like I said, a relaxing Friday evening at home.

And that's the weird part. We've had so many homes over the past few years, and in so many different countries, to boot! I've always moved a lot (home ownership and settling down are maybe the last two things on my list of life priorities) but I've also enjoyed my recent periods of (what passes for) stability of two to four years in the same place, in Brooklyn and in Boston. (Hmmm, B----n, coincidence? Perhaps I'm destined to settle down in ... Bhutan! Or Bahrain. Maybe Berlin?)

We've had some really great homes during these years of galvanting, Brian and I have. Even our short-term homes, like Baan Suwaan in Phuket, Thailand. (There's that B------n theme again, although in that case it's the name of the hotel/apartments.)  I wanted to stay in Baan Suwaan forever! If we hadn't made post-Phuket plans, like with an already booked plane ticket, we would very likely have kicked it there for a few months. Ahhh, Phuket.

Our main apartment in Andong, Korea was awesome, too. We really dug living in Ok-Dong (Ok-Dong kitties! and the restaurants, my goodness) and if we hadn't been moved to the new and improved digs above the new Avalon school location, we just might have been persuaded to re-up for one more year teaching at Avalon.

And Chicago...sigh. I miss living there a lot. Our apartment was in the Best. Location. Ever! (thanks, Sara and Houston) and I loved it, and I did all sorts of things and I barely scratched the surface of that city in one year. I mean, we are definitely planning to go back, but when I start thinking about Chicago I start getting really depressed, because it reminds me that there is such a big world to live in and I just want to live in all of it. I want to live in the U.S. (in Chicago, and L.A., and New York, and Boston, and sometimes Tucson and Atlanta and D.C. as well) and I want to live outside the U.S. (ZOMG! So many choices!!!)   Why is that so much to ask?

I'm sure you can tell why I'm thinking about these things. Our Mexican time is ticking, and with only six weeks until my Next Big Move, I have definitely started getting that mix of thrill and anxiety that comes with determining just what exactly the Next Big Move is.

Meanwhile, let's review. What are some of the things I have most enjoyed about living in Querétaro 

1. The PLAZAS!  We live right across the street from Querétaro's Centro Historico area, which is thanks to Brian ensuring he got us a great pad in this area, when he was here for two weeks before I came, so kudos to Brian! I love, love, love strolling across the street and wandering around the andadores amid the colored colonial architecture. I love that there is pretty much always an event happening on the Plaza de Armas -- music, art, literature, crafts, concerts, festivals, performances of some sort, all the time. And that doesn't even mention the other plazas I love, like the Jardín Zenea or "our" plaza, the one on our cross street of Ezequiel Montes, with the fountain and light show and dramatic opera-like music.  Yay, plazas!

2. The food - obviously. And I can't even try to summarize it all here, but let's just say I was clearly meant to come to Querétaro because their local specialty, enchiladas queretanas, are cheese enchiladas with potatoes. I mean, this basically screams "Linda! Eat me!"

3. It's the little things, but I sure do like it when people as they leave a restaurant/cafe say "Buen provecho!" to the other patrons who are still eating. Brian and I are pretty proud of ourselves every time we provecho our fellow diners on our way out. 

4. I could keep talking about food and restaurants for a long time, so let me just give a few shout-outs: Tacos Tucson. Our dearly departed guajolotes/enchiladas queretanas place that seems to have recently closed. Bisquets. Cafe del Fondo. Tacos El Pata. Cafeto. Tacos Goyo. Other street tacos places and holes in the wall and little random discoveries. ChilaKing (do I have that right? our local chilaquiles spot). THE BLUE MASA GORDITAS PLACE!!!! Yes, I am shouting. None of you have really lived, because you haven't been to the blue masa gorditas place. 

5. The Arcos. That's what we call Querétaro's aqueduct, because of its many 20-meter high brick arches. It's awesome. It's a symbol of the city. I see it all the time. I dig it. 

That's just a taste. I have not been a prolific blogger from Querétaro, for reasons that I shall elaborate upon once I'm out of here, but just so you know: if you're on the fence about coming to Querétaro, I do recommend it. Bring an appetite. 

The Cockroach Scale of Misery

I believe there has been some misunderstanding about just how many cucarachas we are dealing with here in Mexico. Since not everyone in the world thinks the same way I do about the little !@$%^&*s, it appears I need to clarify just what I mean when I say that I am sick of the roaches.  It goes something like this:

1 cockroach = WTF?!
2 cockroaches = Someone needs to deal with this. (Not me. Someone.)
3 cockroaches = I'm moving out
4+ cockroaches = bloody murder what the hell jesus save  me what i can't go on there is no life there is only the agony make it stop the roaches the horror THE HORROR!

That basically sums it up.

By the way, this is not [# of] cockroaches per month or week (are you crazy?) or anything. This is, like, ever. In any given apartment/house/living situation.

And we have waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay surpassed those numbers here in Queretaro.

And there has definitely been more than one week in which we reached three during the week.

And there has been ONE day - only one, but still - when there were four. Four! In a day!!

So, even though I can truly say that the majority of my days here in this apartment I have not seen a cockroach, it is not a 99% majority or anything like that. AND I HAVE SEEN MORE THAN ONE! Which is all I need to know. More than one cockroach = misery and pain and fear and loathing forever.

Are we clear?

Printing! And other stuff!

Today I visited Querétaro's Museo Nacional de Artes Graficas, aka MUNAG. I would translate that for you, except that if you speak English and you can't reasonably figure out what that translates to, then I don't really have a lot of sympathy for you, to be honest. Anyway, the coolest thing about this museum is that it contains the oldest printing press of the American continent(s). It's from 1539 ish. I couldn't believe I got to just stand there looking at it and I could even touch it. It is made of wood and has a giant screw in the middle (I mean, really big) that twisted to press the plates. It was cool. I like printing presses. So revolutionary!

In fact, this museum had lots of information about the history of printing in Mexico, both pre-Hispanic and during the colonial terrorist period and during the independence century and the revolution and so forth. There were stone and wood (I think) and maybe clay stamps and other tools that were used centuries ago by the indigenous peoples, and there were lots of old things and lots of information about the various printers who did their thing during the 1500s or 1600s, sometimes infuriating the Catholic powers that be. There was a list of which kind of books were unacceptable to the Church and which were acceptable. The acceptable list was about a fifth as long as the other list.

All in all it was a nice museum visit, and it's located in a beautiful old courtyardy colonial architecturey house in the Historic Centro. It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon in downtown Querétaro, as usual.

The rest of my day has consisted of a lot of reading (newspapers, my new Borges book) (in Spanish, btw!) and catching up and watching the Yankees lose (always a good time) and so on.

Seven more weeks in Querétaro! I might have to start a serious countdown of things that remain, Like, only three more annoying Friday evening shift/Saturday morning shifts...only 42 more car rides that have the potential to make me want to stab myself in the eyeballs with a toothpick ...definitely fewer than 50 possible days on which I will have to deal with cockroaches...and so on. But then my countdown is also a little sad, considered from the other perspective: only six more weekends to galavant...and fewer than 50 days on which to eat all this delicious cheap delicious delicious cheap delicious food.  I kind of want to eat enchiladas queretanas every day for the next seven weeks. And also everything else.

It's the Final Countdown

OK, well, maybe that's a little premature. But we could possibly go with the home stretch?

I am officially past my 2/3 point in Mexico; in fact, I have been for a few days. There was some consideration of us staying longer than six months in Mexico (answer: no) but now here we are with imminent November staring us in the face, demanding to know what's next.

You, too, may be wondering what's next. Since we are still hashing out details of our potential next gig and it is not exactly set in stone, I shall refrain from blogging about it in a lot of detail at the moment. Suffice it to say, we are probably going to head to that other thorn-in-the-side-of-'MURRica country that perennially pisses off people who hold weird-conservative-isolationist-they-took-our-jobs-but-I-shop-at-Walmart-at-least-I-know-I'm-free-to-guzzle-gas-and-64-ounce-sodas viewpoints.

Meanwhile, eight weeks remain for me here. Eight weeks, people! Eight!  Do you even realize how many things I have left to cross of my Querétaro things-to-do-list?!  Not to mention how many more times I need to go do karaoke. 

We crossed off one thing from our to-do list on Saturday: we took a walk around Querétaro's local pyramid, El Cerrito, which was built and added on to over a few hundred years 1,000 - 1,500 years ago. Seriously, that is some oooooooold stuff there, people. It's actually in Queretaro, too -- we just ride the city bus for 25 mintues and don't really leave the city, but just across from a little foothill neighborhood and some shops and a taco stand, there it is, the entrance to the zona arqueologia containing this massively old group of Toltec structures and plazas where skulls and other things have been found in the past.  Here's the Wikipedia link, if you're interested. 

Eight weeks left! That's all. I'm still startled by this. I have to get cracking! 

Why did the pedestrian cross the highway?

Have I really not blogged yet about the highway crossers? I meant to blog about them the first week I was here!

Here in Mexico, I drive or ride as a passenger for nearly 200 kilometers a day, mostly on the highway outskirts of Queretaro to go to a couple of different industrial parks. On the way to said industrial parks, one passes suburbs, gas stations, little towns, a church or two, and various businesses, and there  are many, many, many pedestrian bridges over the highway so that people can go back and forth.Despite this, there are still many, many, many, many, many people who cross the highway. On foot. On the asphalt. The highway. The highway on which cars are driving 120km per hour, or maybe even faster. DESPITE THE FACT that there is a pedestrian bridge probably 20 meters away, and another 100 meters in the other direction. Naturally, having lived for seven years in Southern California, I immediately thought of this:

In California, we basically called these the "immigrant crossing" signs. You see the signs when you're driving on Interstate 5, from San Diego to L.A.  Like many in So Cal, I always figured the problem was Camp Pendleton right by the highway there, and the checkpoint on the freeway.  Naturally, we assumed, undocumented border crossers would have to dodge the military base and maybe cross the highway, then cross back to the beach, or whatever.

Now, I'm not so sure calling them the "illegal immigrant crossing" signs is at all accurate. (Well, first of all, the colloquial term "illegal immigrant" is not accurate, because it should be "undocumented alien," because the word immigrant means an intention to immigrate, as in permanently, as in legally, and technically there's no such thing as an illegal immigrant, but I digress.)  I mean, I'm here to tell you that in Mexico, darting across the freeway is apparently normal behavior. Or at least not at all surprising to drivers. I now see that it could have nothing to do with Camp Pendleton or evading checkpoint authorities.  Apparently, the 5 is just another road to cross. It was really eye opening for me to come here and realize that it maybe wasn't entirely about being undocumented, but just about the complete and total culture clash, where most U.S. natives would be bewildered by the mere idea of running across a freeway.

But I suppose calling it a "Mexican crossing" sign would be even more offensive than an "illegal immigrant crossing" sign, eh?

Here's a link to a very interesting San Diego Tribune article about the signs, the illustrator, and the various meanings the sign has come to have to different people.

Monday's Horrible Football Referee Call That Ruined Green Bay's Life Forever

In case you hadn't heard: apparently, on Monday night the replacements did their worst ever refereeing and stole a game from the Green Bay Packers and basically ruined life as we know it and brought down the wrath of the universe upon all mankind, or maybe all footballkind. Or, maybe, they made a call based on the rules that other people couldn't see or understand, and it was devastating but in fact correct. Whichever the case, we know this much: U.S. citizens are ANGRY! I mean, is it possible to declare war on NFL refs? 'Cause we'll do it, oh yes, we will! What could we invade? (And is there any oil under there?) 

I wasn't watching the game in question. As it happens, I was at an entirely different football game, specifically, a fútbol game (you might say "soccer") here in Mexico. But when I got home and innocently did a little Facebook check before bedtime, there it was, all over my News Feed: the outrage! the horror! Could we invade Seattle, maybe?

I actually have nothing to say about the call in question because 1)I didn't see it 2)I don't care. But here's what I think is interesting: the ease with which we comment on how others do their jobs.

I don't just mean sports. I mean everything. Sports are definitely where this happens frequently: we, the masses, feel fully entitled to comment and judge what the players, refs, coaches, and managers decide on a daily or even minute-by-minute basis. OK, fair enough, we are spectators who, in a way, make the events possible. You could say the same for movies or books or performing or visual arts. But I'm talking about other jobs, too. Like customer service. Many of us feel super-entitled to comment on how the customer service agent did his/her job. Now I, like many, have worked in customer service, and when I comment on customer service, I try to explain specifically what the person failed to do (usually, it's that they failed to offer what they can do and persisted in telling me what they can't do, which was, like, the first lesson I always taught my Borders traineers: don't say "No"/"I can't"/"We don't have that." Tell them what you do have! So simple.)  But I hear a lot of people tell the story quite differently: "She was a jerk" "He was terrible" "I was pissed" "That sucked" and so on.

Teachers. Lots of people think they know how teachers should do their jobs. Politicians and parents are the two main culprits there. But why aren't we listening to the critical analysis of other teachers?

We even do this to doctors, sometimes. I think doctors are pretty sick of patients who have smugly diagnosed themselves using WebMD and a Google search or two. I know they are sick of patients demanding antibiotics for viruses.

I'm just so curious as to why we all feel totally comfortable declaring what some professionals should or should not have done,  but we rarely ask the other professionals in that profession to weigh in.

I think that I am qualified to comment upon how to do the following jobs: writer, editor, ESL teacher, legal intern, corporate trainer, bookseller, merchandising/inventory supervisor, public radio editorial or production assistant, customer service/reservations phone agent, Disneyland cast member, babysitter, paper carrier. But how many other jobs do I weigh in on?

OK, granted, you could also be a qualified hobbyist. So, I can comment a little bit on: theater (acting and directing), gymnastics, yoga, softball, novel writing, poetry, a handful of musical instruments, choir singing, etc. But still, I really have no place to dictate how a yoga teacher "should" teach, because I am not certified or as advanced in my practice. And a few poetry slam prizes don't really mean I should lord it over the Poet Laureate.

I just think it is interesting to ponder how very much we think we know about how other people should do their jobs.

Querétaro Block

I'm in one of those blogging funks, wherein I just don't seem to have that compulsion to share my thoughts with the world, as The Wonder Stuff sing. I hate it when that happens. There is a tiny little part of me that worries it's because sharing pithy comments on Facebook and Twitter gets my venting and ranting out there into the world, leaving no more desire to blog, but as much as I want to push that thought away in a great fit of denial, I truly don't think that's what's behind the blogger's block. I think being in a relationship is the single greatest difference between my current blogging and my blogging as I once did, because in the beginning I was very much a this-is-me-against-the-world blogger, and now I'm not like that. Which is interesting.

There's also the fact, however, that I CAN'T blog about some of the things that are foremost on my mind. I mean, besides the cockroaches. I could blog endlessly about cockroaches. But believe it or not, there are many other things on my mind here in Mexico, despite what James Taylor would have to say about that, and unfortunately I can't put some of them on the web for the world to see and that is annoying to me. I don't like doing things and being in situations that I can't openly blog about. I'm not into secrets like that. (This, in the end, is why I really can't be a politician or work for the government. I'm just not into being secretive about what I'm doing.)

So, apart from the annoyances that have to stay under wraps (and apart from the cockroaches) Querétaro is actually all right!  Festive red, white and green decorations have stated popping up around the Centro, and I am getting excited about the upcoming Independence Day celebrations. (We've been over this, but for those of you who have forgotten: no, Cinco de Mayo is not Mexico's Independence Day; rather, it's Sept. 15-16.)  The rainy season seems to have sort of stopped, but we still get occasional rains, and rain in Querétaro tends to be a torrential downpour of biblical proportions that can really cramp your style for a fewhours. Brian and I have been enjoying our weekends in town by hitting up restaurants, plazas, and so on here in the historic Centro area where we live. I've pretty much become comfortable and even occasionally rather zen about driving the stick shift. Also, I've been running. The first few weeks here I was not at all into running because even when walking around the neighborhood in shorts listening to my MP3 player I did not like the looks and comments I got from men, all machismo-ed out and reminding me of the Latin-male catcalling in Brooklyn when I ran, only worse. But Brian discovered a great path on which to run to the big Alameda (park) just over a mile from our place, and now that I have that running route it's all good and I can do my running thing without being bothered. There's a Querétaro marathon (and half marathon and 10K and 5K) coming up in a little over a month, and I'm pretty sure I'll run the 10K.

All I want to do is read and have more time to read and write. I was actually supposed to have more time to read and write here in Mexico, but that's one of the annoyances actually - I don't have as much time for those things as I thought I would. However, I am reading cool stuff, when I have time to do so, and even sort of regularly updating my Literary Supplement with my book thoughts, most recently Grover Cleveland, and now I'm in the middle of a Salman Rushdie book.

We've met interesting people here in Mexico, including a couple of people who are currently in the midst of a bicycle trip through Mexico. Bicycles! On the highways! Isn't that so totally awesome and fearless?

But time marches on, summer has come to an end, my nephews and nieces have started school back in Phoenix (not that I ever get updates from them or my sister, but I know that they have), kids have started back to school here in Mexico, food here is delicious, the prices of eggs are in crisis because of a strain of avian flu in some Mexican state or other, I more or less get to keep up with all the batshit insane politics back home in the states (and the shocking level of ignorance about basic human biology that passes for acceptable in our elected officials), and there's still so much to see and do and learn in the world!

One very interesting thing I came across recently was a man named Xokonoschtletl.  He was speaking to a small crowd in Mexico City, near the Zocalo, about Tenochitlan and the destruction by Spain/Cortes etc. of the Aztec civilization, and how Montezuma's crown/headpiece is still in Austria, and how good-but-ignorant so many modern-day people are, and how people buy hook line and sinker the propaganda of the powerful, continuing hundreds of years of imperialist terrorism. I could have listened to this guy forever. Later, I looked him up (based on his book, Juicio a Espana) and discovered that he is in fact a somewhat known activist and speaker and whatnot. He should be even better known; he's awesome. You can watch him on YouTube or visit his web site. I'm so glad I randomly came across him. I loved Mexico City, p.s. I love learning about Mexico and its past.

Because really, the best thing about being in Mexico has been learning more about Mexican history, and the indigenous struggle, and the pre-Hispanic civilizations, and the continuing traditions, and all of that. I mean, don't get me wrong, I REALLY like the food here. But the food has been exported. I really think this historical cultural knowledge has not been exported at all. Even in neighboring Arizona, where we think we have so much experience with Mexico/Mexicans, we are missing so much of the story.

Ciudad de México

Finally, finally, finally, we spent a couple days in Mexico City.  Two thumbs up!

Isn't it the worst when you've had a layover someplace, a place that actually comes up in conversation and people actually ask about, but for years and years and years after your layover you don't actually visit the city so then whenever it comes up, which seems to be, like, all the time, you have to say, "No, I haven't been there. I had a layover..." and then you just sound like an idiot who actually thinks having a layover equals visiting a place, which, no, you don't think that at all but you just want to somehow convey that you have passed through that space on the globe and...it's just the worst. My Mexico City layover was in 1997. (Even longer ago than Tokyo-Narita, which gave me five years of fits every time someone asked if I had been to Japan, and which I remedied during 2011 by traveling for reals twice to Japan, which, by the way, is the greatest country in the world.)

Fun fact: Brian and I have now been to seven world capitals together! We have also been to one same world capital separately and each of us has been to a few world capitals the other hasn't visited.

In short, Mexico City is awesome and it was really nice to be in a large city again. It reminded me that Querétaro is in fact a small city, which I don't really think about when I'm here in the Q, but which I thought about in comparison. Querétaro has a million people and nearly that many industrial parks and all, but here are a few things the Ciudad de México has that Querétaro doesn't have:

• A subway. More on this in a sec. 
•  Vegetarian items on most menus. 
• A giant Plaza de la Constitución (aka the Zócalo) where giant protests continue against the upcoming imposition of Enrique Peña Nieto, the president-(not-)elect (according to the AMLO -- Andrés Manuel López Obrador -- supporters, who were out in full force crying "Fraud!" and video taping the police who carried riot gear shields). Hey, I adore our cute little plazas here in Querétaro's Centro - ADORE them - but I'm just pointing out the difference. The Zócalo/Palacio Nacional even reminded Brian of Beijing a bit. (I saw his point. Tiananmen Square is bigger, but I could totally see it.)

Speaking of seeing the plaza, we had dinner and drinks in a cute and totally not expensive restaurant overlooking it all. I highly recommend that when you are in Mexico City you go to Pura Corazon, on the 6th floor across from the street between the plaza and cathedral entrance. Delicious food, friendly servers, and the view! We had first tried the fancy-schmancy hotel down the street but its terrace restaurant was only serving expensive brunch on Sunday, and I was sad to not be able to have a drink with a view, but then further down we could absolutely have a drink with a view, and it was lovely.

So anyway, the subway. Three pesos. THREE! That's, like, a quarter. Less than a quarter, right now. I was in heaven. I cannot stop marveling at its three-peso-ness.

We stayed in a nice hotel (thanks, Agoda!) in the Zona Rosa area, just a hop skip and jump from Reforma, the wide boulevard dotted with sites and on Sundays filled with bikers and joggers and skaters and dogs. We had lots of wandering time, and we saw Bellas Artes (magnificent), the Bosque de Chapultepec (paddle boats!), and many an old building. We had a Saturday night out in the Coyocán area, all trendy and nightlifey, but not disco-nightlifey, just with throngs and restaurants and bars and snacks and coffee and down-to-earth-ness. My new favorite bar in Mexico is there: El hijo del Cuervo. It's a bar with a cute raven logo (did you know "cuervo" means "raven"? well, now you do) and loads of witty literary quotes on the menu.

The *only* problem (not Mexico City's fault or anything) was that it rained sometimes, although even that wasn't like our recent Querétaro rains wherein the sky opens up for four-hour deluges, but rather, just little sprinkles that would stop after a few minutes, during which time we'd pop into a restaurant for tacos or something. However, I would like to address something: the rainy weather was cool weather. I had to wear layers and never even wore the shorts I brought for our weekend trip. There has also been cold rain of late in Querétaro. Well, I have a problem with this. Mexico, as careful readers will recall from my last post, has cockroaches. Cockroaches that are tormenting me by daring to show up in our apartment occasionally. I have already acknowledged that the dastardly insects/creatures of the devil are the price you pay for tropical paradise (see, e.g., Cuba and Phuket) but tropical paradise is also WARM. Mexico, listen up: you can either have cockroaches or be cold, but you do not get both. Pick a side.

Aaaaaaand, the day we headed from Q to Mexico City was the day Mexico beat Brazil to win the gold medal in men's Olympic soccer, so the streets were even more lively, filled with people and flags and hats and painted faces and horns and cheers and happiness.

Indeed. Viva Mexico!