Celebrate Good Times

The evening began as I met Andi on the metro platform waiting for the Brown Line, at the Centro Médico stop, to whisk us to the Tacubaya stop, transfer to the Orange Line and go three more up north where we disembarked at Polanco. At a fabulous new wine bar, Entrevinos, we sipped wine and thoroughly relished a cheese platter full with Brie, Manchego and Gruyere.

From there, we went to the 15th Anniversary celebration for COMEXUS – The Mexico-United States Commission for Educational and Cultural Exchange. The evening began with a few speakers, first was Antonio Garza, the U.S. Ambassador to Mexico. A three-piece music concert ensued and then hours after the wine had begun to flow, we enjoyed hors d´oeuvres and desserts. The night ended on a high note, I had so much fun dancing until 2 AM at Mamba Rumba, a salsa club.

Making It Real

I’m sitting on my patio, listening to the birds chirp, watching a DVD on my computer while I blog away. My feet are up, I have a couple of frozen Hershey Kisses in my pocket - the students really don’t need all that chocolate. I can hear the song “I Will Survive” playing in the distance – it’s ironic since just a month ago I would have thought that was so appropriate. At that point I was just trying to make it through the day, now I’m trying to really take advantage of the day and enjoy it while it lasts. After getting accustomed to life here in the BIG city, I am so calm and relaxed. Yesterday, after Andi and I went to a 2:20 PM movie, I said to her, “I don’t know how I’m going to go home.” She was pretty confused since she’s aware of my pride for knowing my way around Mexico City quite well. I clarified, “I mean in January.”

My students have come a LONG way, and so have I. I had been completely dejected, feeling that my teaching abilities (in which I had previously had full-confidence) weren’t transferable to a situation different from Wilmette. How could I motivate students who probably weren’t going to use the language while traveling or furthering their studies in college and beyond? I realized that no matter the environment or the students’ realities, they can be motivated and it’s my job to figure out how to do that. I aim to make it real – besides talking about understanding TV, music and movies, now the Mexican students will have a chance to communicate in English. Today, we began to work on pen-pal letters and the students are excited to receive the letters later this week that arrived from the students in Wilmette. Teaching is very different here; lessons that I could do in one class period in Wilmette take at least 3 here, if not 12! Teaching has become a constant challenge, but a welcome one.

Coming Out of the Dark

Thursday, November 10 – Sunday, November 13, 2005

Thursday after school I ventured to Polanco to the Auditorio Nacional to buy tickets for a couple of shows, thus avoiding TicketMaster charges. First I’ll be wowed by David Copperfield’s magic when my friend Sward is in town in December and then, my last week in Mexico, I’ll be going to Luis Miguel’s concert. Luis Miguel, born in Puerto Rico, to his Italian mother and Spanish father, then grew up in Mexico and has sold more than 45 million records during his career.

After buying the tickets, I sat on the steps in front of the auditorium and called Andi to report on the purchases. I looked up and saw the Marriott and I longed for its comfort and luxury. So, I decided I could have lunch there, their chicken Caesar salad is fantastic and iced tea is the perfect accompanianment. While waiting for the meal to arrive, I started to not feel so well, and felt quite weak, but I chalked it up to being my hunger.

Later, I set out in search of a café with wireless Internet that I had read about, Segafredo Zanetti. I enjoyed being able to sit inside, covered by a roof, but with the wall to the outside open. It was a great “people watching” location, many clients had laptops and all were good looking.

With time though I began to feel weaker and coming home in the metro, all I did was concentrate on not passing out or vomiting. When I woke up Friday morning, my head hurt a lot and I didn’t have any strength – but I really didn’t want to miss any more school. I was thinking I could take a taxi to the metro, rather than trying to walk the 10 minutes, but all of a sudden I realized that being at school, let alone getting there, wasn’t going to happen. At 9:00 AM I called school to let them know that I wouldn’t make it in, and the next thing I knew, I woke up at 9:00 PM.

I missed out on the day trip with Andi, her boss and boss’ sister to Taxco, a city a couple of hours from D.F. and known for its silver. Rather than shopping for silver til I dropped, I ventured out only to shop for more supplies. I stumbled to a taxi and eked out that I wanted to go to the WalMart near the Nativitas metro stop. I hastily chose three DVDs at Blockbuster. Checkout took a while, as I hadn’t rented from that store before and they had to call over to the other Blockbuster to verify – actually I don’t know what they had to verify. I leaned on the counter, hoping I wouldn’t pass out or leave something behind before I could make it to the bathroom. I moped up the ramp to WalMart and dragged myself through the store, leaning on the cart and stuffing it with
7-Up, saltines, bread, lemonade, rice and chicken soup. Before 5:00 PM I began a regimen of Cipro – the drug that so many sought when the Anthrax scare was going on. Now I understand the scramble for that miracle drug – 12 hours after taking it, I felt so much better. By Sunday afternoon I felt alive again and enjoyed the beautiful weather in Coyoacán’s center.

My Worst Nightmare

When things were at their worst here and I asked for help from the administration, the principal suggested that I observe one specific teacher as she is right out of school and has fresh ideas and methods.

At the end of my class period with Group 1A, I told them that I would be coming to their next class to observe and to please not pay any attention to me, to act as if I were a fly on the wall. When I entered, impressively only a couple of them turned to greet me. However, a couple of them kept turning to look at me and without speaking, I signaled for them to refocus on the teacher. One girl stopped only when I harshly asked, “What?”

For almost all of the 50-minute class period, the teacher spoke in a loud, harsh voice and I observed:
- Students rise to throw out trash.
- Students throw paper across the room.
- Students quiet down and take notes when the teacher writes on the board.
- 1:20 (the class began at 12:50) the teacher says the topic for today is “Interviews”
- The teacher continually “shh” and say “ehh ehh” to get their attention.
- Two of my best students playing “Cats in the Cradle”
- Various students playing with the plastic covering the table
- The teacher say something to one student and the whole class started laughing.
- 1:21 ALL students were quiet when the teacher began to speak and they had to write down the information in their notebooks.
- During a moment in between instructions, as the teacher walked around, behind her Richi stood up and threw something at a student across the room, then he sat down.
- Once the teacher began to speak again, the class grew silent. Then they all laughed about something she said. She asked a question and they all call out the answer, which is the letter “u”. With that they start to make noises like gorillas.
- 1:23 It’s quiet again as the teacher begins dictating.
- As the teacher continues dictating, they all begin to speak.
- 1:24 She continues to dictate, they all quiet down and then all start talking again.
- 1:27 It’s silent again as the teacher dictates. In the background I could hear someone on a megaphone selling something.
- 1:28 It’s getting loud, the teacher continues dictating.
- 1:38 The teacher finishes the dictation and directs them to continue working on their own.
- 1:39 The teacher announces that the homework is to watch TV. Students all start speaking. When she announces what they have to watch at a certain hour, flipping between three different channels. They all start calling out, especially that they can’t do it, and other general complaints.
- 1:40 It is silent as the teacher reads the questions to answer while watching the programming.
• What kinds of commercials are prevalent during the programming?
• What type of language is used?
• While the teacher begins the third question, the bell rings for the end of the school day. As she continues, behind her back Richi shoots a rubberband across the room.
• She then reads the last question, which of the programs did you find most interesting? And why?

This really was a painful experience, sitting through a 50-minute class period with horribly behaved students. It was even worse since they had just behaved extremely well in my classroom. At what point do I say that teachers can come and observe my classes? Is it even my place to say anything? Does anyone even want anything to change here?

The Hardest Part of Leaving is Returning

School didn’t go quite as smoothly today as yesterday, but I tried with all of my being to remain calm. I observed one of the first year groups during their Formation and Civics class. It began impressively, as the teacher, straight out of school, ran a very disciplined class. The students had to listen to her and take notes – a challenge, but they didn’t have a chance to get distracted. But, when a mother showed up to speak with the teacher she left the classroom and the students began to change – they were on their feet, hitting, making sounds, noises, were talking and dancing. One student in particular didn’t seem to understand the concept that I was there to observe and I wouldn’t speak with him. He began to stick his tongue out, with his pen cap stuck on the tip, while standing up and talking to me. At that point, with the teacher still outside, I pulled this student to the hallway and he continued to speak, not able to listen. Since he also had problems in my class yesterday, I asked the principal, who was only a couple of feet away, if there was someone available to babysit him during the next period, when I would have his group. I was content to find that the student did not join his group for our English class. If a student is disruptive and prevents his peers from getting all that they can out of a class, then they shouldn’t be allowed to enter.

Later on I met up with Karina and her cousin at Cineteca Nacional, a government-supported nonprofit theater that shows smaller independent films and art films. We were there because Karina’s cousin’s friend’s brother was talking about his new book about the famous Mexican comedic actor, Tin Tan (Germán Valdes). After a short interview session, we made our way to another room to view the documentary, “Ni Muy Muy . . . Ni Tan Tan . . . Simplemente ‘Tin Tan’”. The director of the documentary was also on the panel, which was moderated by a comedic actor who is on TV.

While I was with Karina, I asked her about the rumor I had heard that Fulbright grantees could extend their exchange. This has been true with other countries, unfortunately, with Mexico COMEXUS (U.S.-Mexico Commission for Educational and Cultural Exchange) doesn’t have the funding to continue to pay the Mexicans beyond their end-date. And so, I have to face the fact that this experience has to end, and I have to go back to reality. As I left the Cineteca Nacional, on one of the posters for another movie I read the tagline, “La Parte Más Difícil de Salir es Regresar” - The Hardest Part of Leaving is Returning.

Back in the Saddle

I felt really good when I landed in Mexico last night, like I was coming home. I passed through customs and was singing (in my head) the Mexican national anthem. I know about three of the words (I’m working on learning it) but was humming the tune – again, to myself and not out loud. Before exiting, I went to push the button at customs, literally crossed my fingers hoping for green and got it. I then stopped at a currency exchange and handed over my wad of U.S. dollars, that I took out of the ATM in Dallas. That way I was only charged a fee for taking money out of an ATM that is not my bank and wasn’t also fined for doing so out of the country. Then, exchanging the cash at a currency exchange in the airport gives one of the highest rates available. I walked out of Door 7 to meet Elisa’s dad. We threw my suitcases in the trunk, he handed the police officer 5 pesos (who knows for what exact reason, if there is one) and we were off.

I didn’t know how class would go today since I hadn’t seen the students in a week. I tried to bear in mind mom and dad’s advice to remember that the students may not remember the rules. So, I began class by reviewing them and class proceeded rather smoothly. I only had to send out a couple of students and my method of just asking them to come to the hallway to talk with me is still working. Rather than saying, “You have lost three points, go outside.” I ask, “Can I talk to you in the hallway for a moment?” The students come with me, and there I explain the reasons for having lost each point. I then decide if the student can just work out there or if I have to have someone fetch a “prefecto”.

When I asked Robby (one of the students with whom I met a couple of weeks ago with his mom and the principal) to go to the hallway so that we could speak, I couldn’t immediately get out there with him. When I glanced out there, I saw him hanging from the top of the door. I told him that if he could work diligently and independently in the hallway then I wouldn’t call a “prefecto”. Well, when I looked out there about 30 seconds later, his face was pressed against the glass, lips touching and he was breathing onto the window. I went out there, again, and looked down to the courtyard where the assistant principal was walking. I asked her to look for a “prefecto” and when Aurelio came up, I reviewed Robby’s card with both of them, showing how his day had gone. He first lost a point when he sat down, while everyone was on their feet at the beginning of class while I was giving instructions. He said that his feet hurt and I let him know that all he had to do was ask for permission to sit. Next, I asked for all of the students to look at the poster displaying the classroom rules and Robby had his head on his desk, facing the opposite direction. Finally, he was talking out loud. He wanted another chance (apparently they haven’t figured out yet that I stick to my guns and DO NOT change my mind), saying that he would be suspended. I explained that if that is the case, in the future he must think before acting and before speaking.

I was proud of myself for taking the day as it came and not getting overly emotional or frustrated. I continued to take it easy by meeting Andi for lunch around 3:15 at a pizza place in Condesa. After our excellent meal with perfect service, we headed to my old favorite, El Ocho, the café with wireless Internet. Rather than taking my computer out instead we sipped tea and battled it out in a game of Scrabble in Spanish.

Easy Come, Easy Go

After buying my plane ticket for this weekend, going to Target with Faye on Saturday afternoon and then the Mall of America with Uncle George on Sunday, I was a bit anxious about how much I had spent. I felt the need to buy warmer clothes, now that reality has set in and I understand that it really does get cold in Mexico City – maybe not Chicago winter cold, but cold enough to need long sleeves, pants, sweaters and maybe even eventually even gloves! With Faye I also bought a lot of candy for my students, now that I know better what you can and can’t find in Mexico. I didn’t buy any more licorice however, not common at all in Mexico, since the students don’t really like it. Imagine that most of their candy is covered with chile powder and then I give them licorice, which hardly has any flavor to begin with.

All of that spending was the “easy go” – the “easy come” happened shortly after I boarded my connecting flight from Dallas to Mexico City. The flight was oversold and the airline offered a $200 voucher for anyone to take the next flight. I pushed the call button for the flight attendant and raced down the aisle to volunteer, ran back to take my stuff and more than happily reported to the next hours flight. On this next flight, they offered $500 to anyone who could take the next flight – I took it again. Even as they offered more for anyone to wait to take a flight the next day, I figured I should report back to school after already missing three days. So, I did board the final flight, and still arrived in Mexico before 9 PM, with $700 in travel vouchers with American Airlines to spend within the next year.

As I boarded the airplane, I saw a fly on my plane. I wondered if he is from Dallas? Will he get to Mexico City and not know where he is and not understand a word the other flies say? Do flies even speak to each other? Like birds, do flies also fly south for the winter? Is this just the smartest fly in the world, hopping on a plane to head south rather than flapping its tiny wings for thousands of miles? I think I’ve spent too much time alone today.

The fly went away, but now it’s back and flying back and forth between the passengers on each side of me. Yes, I’m stuck in the middle; but it’s a luxurious exit row with plenty of legroom. It could be a lot worse too, I could be next to the guy who was smacking his gum behind me in line, or seated next to one of the French people, there’s a big group of them, who have TERRIBLE body odor – people keep making faces as they pass by those five rows. I took out my scented hand lotion and rubbed some in below my nose hoping to pick up its scent rather than the Frenchie’s funky smell. I’m only seated next to “The Sniffler” – at least once every minute he sniffs and on the other side of me is a lady who is doing nothing. It doesn’t sound bad to do nothing, but to just sit there and stare forward for more than two hours . . . It’s such odd behavior that there was a Seinfeld episode based on people who do nothing while sitting on a plane.

THE Big Day - Bris Day

PHOTOS of Jonathan’s bris (don’t worry, there aren’t any of the actual procedure) can be seen by clicking on the title of today’s entry or by pasting the following site into you’re your browser:
http://homepage.mac.com/rachelsair/sairfamily/PhotoAlbum34.html

Today was Jonathan Louis Sair's bris. All went well as he was surrounded by all of his grandparents and more family and friends. A pediatrician performed the circumcision, as apparently there was a mohel convention going on! The rabbi was very warm and light-hearted and we were all quite impressed that Jonathan quickly stopped crying when the rabbi, while holding Jonathan, started doing squats.

We all enjoyed brunch afterwards and Arnie and Kara bought an amazing carrot cake – I’m still thinking about it! Jonathan spent the rest of the morning sleeping away; he thoroughly enjoyed his first sips of wine - used to commemorate the drop of blood (redness of the wine) that he is giving to come in to the Jewish covenant. The wine also has the affect of calming the baby when he cries.

I spent the afternoon shopping like a mad-person at the Mall of America. Uncle George was the perfect shopping partner, as we began together looking at electronics and then separated when I did a lot of damage at Old Navy. I did need to buy much warmer clothes for Mexico, now I have flannel pajama pants and a couple more pairs of pants too. We had dinner at Tony Roma’s and I devoured my baby back ribs and fried shrimp. I was so glad to find that I still love the ribs, since I tried Tony Roma’s here in Mexico City and couldn’t even eat one rib – clearly they do not come from the same pig stock.

The weekend was perfect and I am so glad that I was able to fly in for the special occasion.

Getting to Know Jonathan

PHOTOS from Day 2 can be seen by clicking on the title of today’s entry or by pasting the following site into you’re your browser:
http://homepage.mac.com/rachelsair/sairfamily/PhotoAlbum35.html

We spent most of the weekend just staring at and admiring the newest member of the Sair family. Enjoy all of the photos of Jonathan.

Worlds Collide

PHOTOS from Day 1: Jonathan Meets the Family can be seen by clicking on the title of today’s entry or by pasting the following site into you’re your browser: http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=kxbc8ie.92mvvwm2&Uy=-kpfz1i&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0
Last night I met my nephew Jonathan; I stared in awe at his perfect, tiny little face, his lips and his long, itsy bitsy fingers. He’s so cuddly and soft. He coos and grunts and groans, all six and a half pounds of him. When Arnie and I arrived home from the airport, Kara was feeding Jonathan and I just saw his tiny legs in little blue socks, his diaper and pink stomach. Then, Kara passed him to me for burping time. I had no success so Arnie showed me his technique and when I took Jonathan back, he promptly and predictably spit up his whole meal - right onto the front of my shirt. Arnie grabbed his camera and the resulting photo is one of my favorites – I’ve never looked so genuinely happy in a photo, and I have baby spit-up covering the front of my shirt.

Jonathan is so privileged to have two dedicated parents who want to make him happy and who constantly care for him. At bedtime, Arnie swaddled him in, tried to turn his head to the left, to help avoid his flat spot and as we quietly left the room, Arnie adjusted the volume on the CD player so Jonathan could fall asleep to the soothing music.

I just can’t get over how beautiful Jonathan is and how amazingly fortunate he is to have been born to Kara and Arnie, and into our family that just showers him with love and attention – I know in about 13 years I’ll have to remind him of this. I’m sure my experience in Mexico is deeply affecting my judgment here. Just yesterday I saw one boy, about three or four years old, all alone and playing with the dirt, filling a bottle cap, reminding me of playing at a beach. At night I walked by a crying baby sitting in her car seat that was placed on the sidewalk, her mother nearby, gathering the goods that she had displayed at the market. A couple days ago I saw a beautiful baby girl, holding a rattle and sitting in a cardboard box, lined with a blanket while her father, or grandfather was cooking at his sidewalk stand. A couple of weeks ago, I saw a baby girl, old enough to sit on her own, doing so on a grass lined median strip while her mother was weaving between the stopped traffic, selling gum and candy.

It is hard coming home and readjusting to this life, even if it is just for the weekend. There is so much love and luxury here, I just want to scoop up those children I see in Mexico and give them this warmth. How is it possible that we are all “children of God” and so many are in the street, on their own?

The Conundrum

This was a hurried morning, trying to fit in as much as possible before heading to the airport before 11 AM. I always feel like I have to take advantage of everything I can since in this case I have no idea if I’ll ever be back in Mexico City around Day of the Dead.

I started by cabbing it around to see a couple more “ofrendas” first at the Frida Kahlo Museum and then at the National Museum of Popular Culture. The Frida Kahlo one was my favorite of all that I have seen. It’s very brightly decorated with “papel picado” (the cut tissue paper) that covers the ceiling, papier-mache figures, skulls, her favorite foods, tequila, playing cards and the floor is covered with colored sawdust. At the cultural museum, I saw “ofrendas” representative of many different regions like Guerrero, Puebla, Hidalgo, Oaxaca, Michoacán, Tamaulipas.

Even though I won’t be back in school until Tuesday, I’ll only be missing two classes with Groups 1A and 1C and one class with Group 1B. I left the movie “Con Ganas a Triunfar” (Stand and Deliver) with a sheet of questions. I had left this movie for the students to watch on two previous occasions, however, with Group 1A it was turned off after 10 minutes since Gerardo starting acting up. With another group, the power went out and the third group never even made it to the audiovisual room since the one person with a key to that room wasn’t in school that day. This time, in case of any technical difficulties, I left a backup plan.

I like “Stand and Deliver” especially because it is a true story of students in East L.A. I’m sure my students will be able to relate to at least part of the movie as, except for a few, the students featured in the movie don’t have any interest in school and make class almost impossible for a teacher to control. Those who do want to learn are torn by the responsibility of helping support their families financially. The math teacher, Jaime Escalante, showed the students how capable they were and he motivated all of them to take the AP test so that they could receive college credit and from there hopefully obtain scholarships. Every single student passed the test. The low expectations for these inner-city minority students, both in the U.S. and in Mexico, not only run rampant within their own communities and across the city and country, but they cross the border as well. This evening, when I passed through customs in Dallas, the immigration officer questioned why I had been gone for three months. After I said that I’m teaching in Mexico City he said, “Oh, wow. That must be like teaching the dunce class.”

So I face the conundrum: Despite others expectations, I aim to motivate students and help them realize their capabilities, while encouraging them to continue school. Reality, on the other hand, is that Mexico City taxi drivers make more money than teachers do.

November 2: Day of the Dead

PHOTOS from Day of the Dead, including sites and “ofrendas” I visited, can be seen by clicking on the title of today’s entry or by pasting the following site into you’re your browser:
http://homepage.mac.com/rachelsair/fulbright/PhotoAlbum41.html

* Breakfast in the Centro Histórico at El Cardenal

* Ofrendas on display in the Zócalo

* Diego Rivera Anhuacalli Museum in Coyoacán

November 1: Day of the Dead in Mixquic

PHOTOS of Day of the Dead in Mixquic, Mexico can be seen by clicking on the title of today’s entry or by pasting the following TWO sites into you’re your browser:

http://homepage.mac.com/rachelsair/fulbright/PhotoAlbum39.html

http://homepage.mac.com/rachelsair/fulbright/PhotoAlbum40.html

Preparing for Day of the Dead

Click on the title of today’s entry or paste the following site into your browser:
http://homepage.mac.com/rachelsair/PhotoAlbum38.html

Can I Have A Coke?

Andi and I met in the center of Coyoacán today and decided to have lunch at one of the stands set up for the Day of the Dead festivities. They are identical to the ones that were set up for Independence Day, just fewer of them now. We settled on one where an old lady was working along with probably her daughter and grandson. While we sat on the white, wooden benches we watched the older woman, short with leathered, tan skin, a fluff of grayish, whitish hair emerging from her nostrils and her grey hair pulled back, continuously chop white onions, without shedding a tear.

We each ordered a “sope.” These weren’t anything like traditional “sopes” that are usually a very small but thick circle of fried masa, curled up on the edges and topped with beans, cheese and other desired ingredients. The ones we received were more like tostadas and when I folded mine in half it then became more like a quesadilla.

Two young boys, wielding small plastic pumpkins approached Andi and me and asked, “¿Me da mi calavarita?” - the Mexico City version of “Trick or Treat.” I didn’t have any change but Andi tossed a couple of pesos into the bucket. Then the little guy, probably five or six years old, quietly asked, “Will you buy me a Pozole (bowl of soup)?” So, we bought a bowl of Pozole for him and another for his brother. When the little guy asked for a Coke, I asked, "Wouldn’t you like some juice?" The two boys devoured the Pozole and sucked down their bottles of orange drink.

After lunch, I wandered around the plaza and saw the “ofrenda” that the local artists were working on and another inside a school. Many children were in costume, toting pumpkins to collect pesos and candies. The area was full of life as the community was preparing to celebrate death.

Don’t Make Me Go

Just weeks ago I didn’t know how I was going to make it here for another three months. Now, I don’t know how I’m going to return home. During my other three programs in Mexico and on the various vacations here I have always felt comfortable, relaxed, welcome and at home; I finally feel that again. Therein lies the conflict – I feel at home here in Mexico and yet my home is Chicago, but I can’t imagine how I’ll readjust to my “home.”

I am in love with my apartment, its location to the metro and buses and its proximity to the center of Coyoacán. I have mastered the metro system; I hardly have to glance at the signs, if at all, to know my way around. I remember thinking that I’d never learn the bus systems, but now I can hop on and off without worrying too much if I’m on the right one. For the first month I detested having to “hop” off the back of the bus, as it never completely stops. Now, it’s instinctual to disembark this way. At first I feared for my life when crossing streets. Now, I cross confidently, however, still cautiously but I don’t even have to wait for a Mexican to shadow across the street.

I don’t want to give up my fresh squeezed orange juice on the way to school, getting fresh cut fruit from the “Fruit Lady” at recess, cheap movies on Wednesdays, two for one rentals on Tuesdays, a city that constantly offers exhibitions, theater, concerts, sports and anything else that one may be interested in.

Mostly, I don’t want to give up my students here. I have molded them for three months and they will continue to shape up for the next three. I don’t want to then walk out on them, leave them behind like so many others have done in their lives. I want to see the amazing results that they can achieve over an entire school year and I especially want them to understand what they are capable of.

I have spent the past three months getting accustomed to the Mexican (or better – Mexico City) culture. When the “Fruit Lady” asked me today, “¿Has acostumbrado?” (Are you used to everything now?) I didn’t hesitate before responding, “Sí.” After another three months I can’t imagine how much more integrated I will be. And then, I leave here on a Saturday in January and begin teaching in Wilmette on that Monday – I can’t even conceive of that frenzied change.

Fine Art

The day began with another scrumptious bagel, with its outside toasted to a crisp, the inside remaining soft, smothered with full fat cream cheese and washed down with a fresh glass of orange juice. Mom let me know that while she and dad have to leave at 7:40 AM tomorrow to make their flight, I can stay in the hotel room until 2:00 PM. I think I may have to be physically removed from the hotel tomorrow! The bed is entirely too comfortable and the wireless Internet entirely too convenient.

For the third day in a row, my parents bravely went two floors underground to board the metro’s orange line. Today, we disembarked at Barranca del Muerto, the last stop on the line’s south end, and continued by taxi to Plaza Jacinto, in the heart of San Angel. San Angel is very similar to Coyoacán for its colonial charm. On Saturdays, artists display their paintings, sculpture and other works throughout the plaza. I fell in love with one artist’s paintings of Mexican kitchens that are brightly colored and extremely detailed, even using miniature tiles to accent the counters – I bought two for $300 pesos total. Then I gravitated towards some vibrant oil paintings of vases full of flowers. I held off the first time I passed them by; I had a hard time picturing something so nice in an apartment. When I returned a bit later, I just couldn’t resist. The artist asked how much I wanted to pay, why do people ask that? He escorted me to the ATM to “protect” me and I forked over $1100 pesos and quickly owed an incredible piece of art – I don’t even currently have a home in which I can put it.

Next, we ventured over to an outdoor market area, with all of the stalls covered by white tents. At those stands you can find ANYTHING: flower pots, rock gardens, wood puzzles, jewelry, trinkets and items for The Day of the Dead and there’s even a stand with old cameras and an oxygen mask. I bought two flowerpots for my mom, to add to the two she bought the other day. They are magnificent, shiny royal blue ceramic pots with sunflowers on one and calla lilies on the other.

Next we were lured across the street from Plaza Jacinto, to the Bazar Sábado – one of the finest art and craft markets in Mexico set in a 17th-century red stone building. The two-story building is divided into little shop areas, with handcrafted items like jewelry, pottery, leather and clothing. The interior of the building is an open courtyard patio that looks like a relaxing spot for a snack.

Just before two o’clock we journeyed across the cobblestone streets to meet up with Andi and enjoy an exquisite lunch at San Angel Inn. This restaurant has one of the most interesting histories: built in the 17th century as a lavish Carmelite monastery, later home to Spanish viceroys – and, briefly, Emperor Maximilian and his wife Carlota. Guests of the Inn have included, during the Revolution, Emiliano Zapata and Pancho Villa. Today it’s a restaurant only, whose food is of the highest quality. Andi and I were probably most excited about the plate of vegetables on the table, carrots, celery, cucumbers, oh my! We don’t often have vegetables; rather, fruit is so readily available that we consume it multiple times a day. Besides the vegetables, we devoured lobster bisque, my dad had the sopa Azteca (tortilla soup), then both my mom and dad enjoyed whole red snappers, I had the Arrachera and Andi had an interesting shrimp dish.

After a truly enjoyable lunch, we crossed the street to go to the Museo Estudio Diego Rivera. This is where Rivera lived and worked and did so for a while with his wife Frida Kahlo. The first floor featured a temporary exhibit of the photography of a friend of Rivera’s, Beatrice Kolko. The photos are revealing and moving, showing daily life throughout Mexico, when they were taken during the 1960s. The upper floor is arranged as it might have looked when Rivera was still living there, complete with unfinished paintings on easels and his shirt lying on his bed. It was so cool remembering scenes from the movie Frida (staring Salma Hayek) that took place in this house. It was fascinating to see the walkway connecting Diego and Frida’s separate parts of the house. Most striking was the modernity of the house, built in 1928, set in a neighborhood of cobblestone streets and mansions dating back centuries.

Marathon Day

PHOTOS of my day with Mom and Dad at school and throughout the day can be viewed by clicking on the title of today’s entry or by pasting the following address into your browser: http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=kxbc8ie.7wlb2gwa&Uy=-5m3t9r&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=0

Mom and Dad came with me to school today. First they experienced the hour-plus daily commute on the metro. It was easy to get started from the Auditorio stop, a short walk from the hotel. After exiting at the Acatitla stop, we squeezed into a “bicitaxi” and I asked the driver to take it easy over the speed bumps – there are more than five along the five-minute route. I’ve come to expect feeling my brain hit the top of my skull each time we fly over the speed bump and then crash land.

At school I introduced mom and dad to many of the teachers and they became quite skilled at saying “mucho gusto” (nice to meet you). The principal invited us to sit, I declined as I needed to put my things away before recess began, and I wasn’t quite sure what we would talk about, or more precisely how we would talk – my parents don’t speak Spanish and the principal doesn’t speak English.

Recess was so much fun, the students swarmed around my parents. My dad was a big hit; I can’t stop smiling as I picture him encircled by a bunch of twelve year old boys who walked with his every step, trying to talk to him, not paying any attention to the language barrier. My mom told me of one boy who tried to get her phone number.

After recess, we went up to the theater where a number of students are working on an “ofrenda”. And then it was time for class. The first period was touch and go, I didn’t want to rock the boat so I didn’t even introduce my parents to them. Complete opposite situation with the next group. Everyone wanted to talk to my parents so I said that they would walk up and down the rows and stop at each student’s desk. My mom also helped by writing words on the board that I called out to her, when students would ask me how to say something in English. One student came up to me and asked how to say “pyramids,” she wrote it on her arm and returned to my dad and asked him, “Do you like pyramids?”

After school my mom, dad and I took the metro to the Zócalo, the center of the Historic Center and walked to have lunch at El Cardenal. Andi met us there, her roommate David is a manager there; it’s his family’s restaurant. David was awesome and had us seated right away, in a nice, quiet area. The restaurant has many floors in an elegant setting; the food is first-rate while its prices are very reasonable.

After a short rest back at the hotel, we took a taxi to Ada and Jane’s houses and enjoyed Shabbat dinner there. We all meshed so well, it was like being with old friends. It’s so cool to me the universality that Judaism is – regardless of where you are in the world; the blessings, traditions and foods (some) remain unchanged.

Chapultepec

PHOTOS of my day with Mom and Dad in Chapultepec Park. Click on the title of today’s entry or paste the following address into your browser:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLandingSignin.jsp?Uc=kxbc8ie.37lytzca&Uy=6c35he&Upost_signin=Slideshow.jsp%3Fmode%3Dfromshare&Ux=1

We used the walkway to the Auditorio metro to cross below the main thoroughfare of Reforma and begin our stroll around Chapultepec Park. First we checked out the interesting sculptures in front of the Auditorio Nacional – a setting for concerts and shows of all types. I went to the box office to buy Ricky Martin tickets for the concert on November 15, but they were sold-out a week before.

By walking around the Auditorium and the street behind, we passed many small cultural centers for dance and theater and food vendors where the students gather to eat. Next to one vendor there was a baby girl in a warm pink outfit, holding a rattle, looking up, expressionless and sitting in a cardboard box, next to a basket full of dirty dishes. Down the sidewalk, there was a boy, about 3 or 4 years old, sitting against the wall, drinking a bottle of Coke and looking up at the older students eating around the nearby stand.

When we completed circling the Auditorium, and walked along one of the lakes, we soon stumbled upon one small gallery with string art, then another with a display of brilliantly colored photos of flowers. In the area in between the two, artists were assembling some papier-mache figures and an “ofrenda” for Day of the Dead.

The park is humungous, 2100 acres, and is divided into three sections; we took a miniature train ride around the first part. After bouncing along the route, our backs ached but we cautiously climbed the hill in another trolley to reach the national history museum, Castillo de Chapultepec that has an extensive 220-year history.

Viceroy Bernardo de Gálvez built the neo-classic castle on top of a hill in 1785, clearly with defensive considerations. When the castle housed the nation’s military college, it was the last, but ultimately unsuccessful, stronghold of defense against the U.S. Army during its 1847 invasion of Mexico City. Later, Emperor Maximilian and his wife Carlota lived there in 1866 and tried to re-create a little corner of Europe by spending money on its luxurious salons, flowered terraces and rooftop garden. Soon after, after it became the presidential residence, beginning with President Porfirio Diaz in 1876. In 1939 the castle became a national history museum when President Lázaro Cárdenas disliked the elaborate palace and moved to the more modest residence of Los Pinos.

Today, visitors to the Castillo can view the former living quarters of Maximilian and Díaz, filled with 19th-century furniture, artwork and musical instruments. Another part of the castle houses a museum recounting the nation’s unstable history between conquest and Revolution. An extensive collection of artifacts, documents and paintings of modern Mexican history is displayed in 20 rooms on two floors. There are murals by Juan O’Gorman (of Mexican history), Davíd Alfaro Siquieros (of Revolutionary leaders) and José Clemente Orozco (of Benito Juárez).

We didn’t make it to the third section of the park that is the newest, added only in the 1970s as the city expanded to the west. Besides a few picnic tables by the roadside, it’s full of ravines, meadows, patches of forest and a few caves.

The second section is where we had lunch. From the Castillo, we walked back to the main street Reforma and took a taxi to the restaurant. This part of the park has a children’s museum, complete with an IMAX theater, an amusement park and two upscale restaurants. We ate lunch at Café del Bosque where we had a view of one of the lakes. While the lake is terribly dirty looking, with the soot sitting on top, swimming by are ducks with brilliant white feathers. I couldn’t help but think of these ducks as an example of how one can shine, no matter the environment in which it lives.

Perfection

PHOTOS can be viewed by clicking on the title of today’s entry or by pasting the following site into your browser: http://homepage.mac.com/rachelsair/fulbright/PhotoAlbum37.html

I awoke this morning in the world’s most comfortable bed, took a shower with HOT water and strong water pressure and then met mom and dad at the concierge breakfast buffet, that was the best one we’ve ever had. I was excited to have a bagel and cream cheese, not too common in Mexico. Then, we went to the lobby where I handed my parents off to Martha, one of Elisa’s good friends here in D.F. Martha acted as their tour guide and Elisa’s brother, Luis, was their driver.

Martha gave them a tour of the historical downtown area – El Centro Histórico has as its center the main plaza, (El Zócalo - the second-largest public plaza in the world after Red Square in Moscow), and the Templo Mayor (the holiest shrine in Tenochtitlán – now Mexico City - where the Aztecs did their ritual sacrifices) and the national palace (El Palacio Nacional – originally one of Hernán Cortés’ many residences, the bell that was rung in Guanajuato in 1810 by Father Miguel Hidalgo as he uttered his shout for Mexican independence from Spain, now hangs in the main entrance here).

My mom, an art major and lifelong student and fan of art, was excited to see the Diego Rivera murals in the government building. Between 1929 and 1935 Rivera painted one of his best-known murals on the walls above the palace’s central staircase. Divided into three parts, the mural is Rivera’s vision of Mexican history: Aztec life before the conquest, brutal conquest and colonial era, independence from Spain and the bloody revolution in 1910-20. In the second-floor hallway, the walls are painted with eight mural panels that Rivera worked on these from 1941 to 1952 to illustrate idealized aspects of Mexico’s life before the arrival of Cortés.

Luis then drove them south across town to Coyoacán to see the “ofrendas” on display at the National Cultural Museum. The “ofrendas”, altars for Day of the Dead, are representative of many of the states throughout the country. After school we met in one of my favorite restaurants in the quiet Santa Catarina Plaza in Coyoacán, Mesón Plaza Catarina Antigua. I love their chicken fajitas and after my school day, a nice, cool cerveza was the just the thing.

After lunch Luis took Martha to work, she’s the assistant principal at a secondary school in Coyoacán. Her school is “vespertino” an afternoon one, from 4 – 10 PM. The students’ age range is colossal, from teenagers to grandmothers. Some of these older students finally have the chance to go to school now that they are done raising their families and working to support them. Now they work by day and attend school at night.

After lunch, mom, dad and I squeezed into a bright green beetle taxi and, as the backseat seems to be nothing but cloth over springs, we bounced our way across Coyoacán to the Frida Kahlo museum. The museum is in her family’s famous blue house and now there is a temporary exhibit on Frida’s medical struggles. On display was all of the medicine she took each day – more than an arms’ full – and her crutches and even prosthetic leg.

From there, we walked a couple of blocks to the Coyoacán market, where products for Day of the Dead abounded. There were paper flowers that looked like cempasuchil ones, decorated sugar and chocolate ones and others coated with sesame seeds. There were miniature skeletal figurines dressed to represent people from all walks of life like teachers, doctors, and athletes; there was even one White Sox player.

For the display shelves in my Wilmette classroom, I bought a giant sugar skull, paper flowers, two papier machie figurines and also some popular Mexican dishes like chicken covered with mole sauce. One of the figurines is a puppeteer with his puppet that is also a skeleten, and the other is wearing a black dress and has a black umbrella, like the famous Day of the Dead symbol, La Catrina. José Guadalupe Posada created the Catrina to show that in the end, we all meet the same fate, even the wealthy. You can learn more about Posada at: http://www.azcentral.com/ent/dead/history/posada.html

Finally, we visited my apartment and then took a taxi all the way back to Polanco. Our driver, Florencio, was very friendly and pointed out the cempasuchil flowers being planted all along Reforma. He said that in December they will be taken out and replaced with poinsettias.

The long day came to a perfect end as mom, dad and I watched the White Sox WIN the World Series!