Monday, September 27, 2010

School's out (or at least it was, for a weekend)

My classmates and I, after a 140 hour, four week course including 10 teaching practices, are all now TEFL certified and prepared to teach English anywhere in the world. *A celebration was definitely in order. The school hosted a fabulous meal with a real veggie option (the best I've had since I've been here) and after a few drinks we closed down the school and headed out to a cantina called La Maestranza for more festivities. As the night carried on we tried to make our way to the next locale, but, as seems to be par for the course recently a late night torrential downpour cut my night short. I hailed a taxi for the quick ride home at 3:30, which was probably for the best considering our goal to get up for the Tequila tour in the morning.

Surprisingly Joeline and Nathan and I woke up in time to catch the 9:30 a.m. tour bus to Tequila, a great continuation of our graduation celebration. The first stop on the tour was Tres Mujeres, an small organic distillery just outside the city that still cuts all its agave by hand. The coa that is used to cut the plant is something like 8 kilos, not an easy tool to work with. We first went into the field, which were complete with a couple cows taking an early morning siesta. the view was beautiful, we were surrounded by mountains and the agave makes for a slightly blue tinted field. We then moved inside to see the actual fermenting taking place and sampled fresh tequila from the barrel. Tequila and I aren't the best of friends. This was solidified after I took a sample of the best, most expensive bottle available and still made my scrunched face signifying my inability to discover the finer qualities of the most popular Mexican liquor.

We made a quick stop in the town’s main plaza for a snack before the Cuervo tour. The cathedral is amazing, as all cathedrals I’ve stumbled across have been, and while eating al fresco at this small café we saw the barrel tour bus pass by and all felt a ping of jealousy. Yes, the barrel tour is just like it sounds, a vehicle that looks like tequila barrels, how fun is that?

The Cuervo factory is nearly in the center of town, and quite the opposite of Tres Mujeres. It felt very much like visiting Lake Front Brewery and then seeing the mammoth that is Miller. The little guy always wins in my book. That’s not to say Cuervo wasn’t a good tour, because it was, and the samples were flowing, but it just had a different feel. No photos were allowed, hair nets had to be worn (I’m sure you’ll appreciate that, Pam) and the overall corporateness of it all was evident everywhere. We did get to see the crow, who is in a huge cage at the end of the tour, which was pretty cool. Cuervo was the last distillery, and on the way home we stopped at a traditional restaurant on the way home that overlooked the fields and had beautiful mountain vistas we enjoyed on the patio. There’s not much better than good friends, good food, amazing views, and a cool breeze in your hair.

The tequila bus got us back to Guadalajara just in time to make plans to meet up for the Mark Anthony concert that was happening to benefit the hurricane victims. We had no luck making it to the show. As we left our meeting place, La Purgatoria, it started to drizzle. Rather than head back we decided to carry on. That was a mistake. We didn’t get more than six blocks when the skies opened up and poured buckets straight down on us. We scrambled to find a taxi. Once we did we had to beg the driver to let us in because we were totally soaked and then got charged more than four times the price it cost us to get there. I swear there’s a button on the meter for gringos who got caught in the rain. It was worth the $25 bucks to get out of the rain and into my warm comfy bed. That’ll teach me to leave home without an umbrella, though I doubt it would have helped in that crazy storm.

*So, where to? I'm holding out for a job on the coast. Keep your fingers crossed for Puerto Vallarta in January. As for now, I finished my first day of Spanish and will be taking classes in Guadalajara for two more weeks. I've been really good at understanding people here, but I would really like to be able to converse without sounding like a 10 year old. Anyway, after Spanish I'll be heading to Mazatlan (on the West coast north of Puerto Vallarta) for a long weekend before venturing back to the states. I’ll visit Seattle for a bit before heading home and looking for a holiday gig to tide me over until January. Any suggestions?

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Last week (a scramble to the finish)

Thanks to Independence Day Friday, the 17th was only a half day, with no teaching since the English school canceled classes all together Thursday and Friday. I did, however, have to wake up to teach bright and early on Saturday. Students that take Saturday classes only come one day a week for six hours (I only taught for one hour of their day). After teaching sentences like “You aren’t going to swimming, are you?” and new vocabulary words, it was time to test some of my “slowly coming back to me” Spanish at my classmate’s barbeque.

Tom invited the bunch of us over, along with some of his wife’s family for a barbeque. He was kind enough to seek out veggie burgers for me, and generously provided a keg of Minerva (a delicious microbrew of sorts not easily obtained) for us all to enjoy. It was nice to spend a relaxing afternoon in the sunny backyard with friends before the last week of classes began. The Posado San Pablo group made it home pretty early by recent standards, but of course trekked out to the nearby bars for a few rounds and a bit of dancing to round out the night.

Sunday afternoon I was a total tourist. I found my way to the red double-decker bus, climbed to the second level, obtained headphones to get the English tour, sat back and enjoyed a two hour tour of the city. I now know that the main municipal cathedral is surrounded by four plazas that create a cross, and that the regional museum used to be a seminary. The inscriptions on the arches translate to something like a pleasant visits ensures a return, and near the famous arches stands a statue of Minerva (the god of poetry, medicine, wisdom, commerce, crafts and the inventor of music) in the center of a traffic circle. The newer millennium arches are very modern looking, and are a looming burst of yellow amid the traditional stonework of the city. Cathedrals pepper the city, and since it was Sunday, markets outside were bustling.

After the bus tour I made my way to the regional museum. It was my first museum of this trip, which is quite odd seeing as though in most cities I visit a museum is top on the must see list. The Regional Museum of Guadalajara is a unique mixture of archeological history and historic religious paintings and relics. It was interesting to see the two juxtaposed against one another, and how crucial both aspects are to the history of Guadalajara and Mexico as a whole. Also, quite randomly, I found my favorite exhibit in the museum outside in the square adjacent to the wishing well (yes, I made a wish). It was a series of hand-crafted, beautifully painted mirrors. Photos will follow.

After my day as a tourist I made it back to the Posada to get ready for what is turning out to be one busy week. It’s the last day of classes. By Friday I’ll (cross your fingers) have my certification, and possibly a job on the coast.

** As a side note, there are huge moths here. One recently made his home outside my room, and honestly I thought he was a bat. I haven’t managed to get the courage to stand close enough to get a photo yet, but if I do, you’ll understand my utter fear when it came flying at my face as I went to brush my teeth one night. If you find one in your room it is supposed to mean bad luck, I’m hoping that since he hasn’t managed to get past my doors and we’ve only briefly crossed paths that he hasn’t muddled my luck. Maybe I’ll come across a white moth soon to balance it out.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Viva!

Celebrations started early for the bicentennial, which is officially the 16th of September. After teaching a conversation class for three dedicated students that, to be honest, I was not expecting to show, I made my way to the plaza for my first look at the Independence Day festivities. Walking to the plaza, Mia and I walked past flea-market-style shops block after block selling everything from Mexican flags, mustaches (a must for men celebrating in the plaza), and sombreros to beautiful dresses, shoes and purses.

Once we made it to the plaza entrance we waited in the security line, which to be honest, was more reassuring than disturbing , and began our 200-years-in-the-making experience. I feel so lucky to have been able to be in Mexico for this once in a lifetime event. We were in the square for no more than two minutes we got our faces painted and joined the hundreds, probably thousands, of people taking in all the sites and smells. It was reminiscent of the Taste of Chicago in that there was food and people at every turn, but it also had the intense patriotism and sense of community felt at a small town 4th of July parade. After we made our way through the plazas, we headed back to the Posada to meet the rest of our classmates.

Dinner at La Chata was probably the nicest meal I’ve had since arriving in Guadalajara. Don’t get me wrong, the food in Mexico is delicious. But, I eat most of my meals at taco stands, a standby ahogada lunch spot, the café or my hostel kitchen. This restaurant graciously accommodated our group of 16 gringos better than most restaurants I’ve been to before. The server was extremely friendly, the food came out with no errors and all at the same time, and it was delicious. Before making it back to the plaza for El Grito (a speech during which the crowd parrots the mayor’s cries of Viva Mexico!) we shared a couple cubetas of beer (buckets of 10 bottles of beer) at Kronik. Unlike the afternoon, the security line at 10:30 that night was more than four blocks long. It was worth it to make it to the center, and the line gave people the chance to buy celebratory flags. It was crowded, but not as bad as expected. I was expecting Times Square on New Year’s Eve, but we could move with more than enough room and push forward to the closest screen.

We were a part of the crowd, waiting not so patiently for the mayor. It is amazing how so many anonymous individuals, with different stories, different backgrounds, can come together with a common sentiment to create a crowd bonded by pride and joy. Everyone cheered, chanted Viva! and sang the national anthem. After El Grito there was a spectacular fireworks display. I don’t think I’ve ever been that close to fireworks before, I’m pretty sure I felt the sparks on my arms a couple times. I’m usually not one for fireworks, but this was an exception. The music was perfectly set, and the catherdral and federal building provided a beautiful backdrop and the cheers of the crowd made it impossible not to smile and enjoy the show.

We came across mariachi on the way out. Well, we saw a stage and crowd waiting for a show at first and decided it must be something worth watching. Like many of the shows I’ve been to in Mexico, there was a long, drawn out build up to the main act: music and a recording of snippets of the 200 year history of the country and finally an introduction by a local celebrity and finally the main act. The main act has always been worth the wait. We used this build up time to meet our fellow concert goers. It was quite a melting pot. In our group we had Americans, Brits and Canadians, and next to us were Koreans and of course, the friendly Mexican from California rounded out our united nations of mariachi fans.

After we got our mariachi fix, we met up with the rest of our group who headed straight from El Grito back to the bars. And like most evenings out in Guadalajara, we danced, we drank and we wound up at a gay bar at the end of the night (or really early in the morning). The DJ even incorporated sound bites of El Grito in his techno spinning.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Cuidado (watch out for that hole)*

Remember how the last time I posted I made grandeous plans about making it to exercise day. That was before I knew what Saturday night had in store. There was an outdoor musical festival on one of the avenues not too far from my place featuring fantastic live music and a collection of various music fans based on the multiple state layout of the festival. I'm a sucker for live music. There's nothing like the feeling you get when the music flows through your body and the energy of the crowd is powerful enough to light up a dark night. This music festival would be the first of three live bands I'd see in the coming week. For nearly two hours we roamed the street catching a few songs of each band, making our way down to the most crowded stage on the street. The band deserved the large crowd. Check them out, they are called The Liquids.

We got back to the Posada early enough to run into our new friend from Mexico City. Marysol is a doctor and came to Guadalajara for the weekend to take her exam to become a gynocologist. She's 26. It definitely makes me think I should get going with this "what do I want to be when I grow up" thing. Anyway, we met earlier that week, and made a game plan to go out after she finished her test. Communicating with our less then stellar Spanish and her almost there English we spent the night dancing at Kronik (yes, I know the misspelling-to-be-clever nature of the name should have made me run at first site, but it was a blast). We shared a cubeta (a bucket of beers) and danced until about 4:30 in the morning. We ended the evening back at the Posada with cumbia lessons before calling it a night.

Needless to say, I missed exercise day. But did manage to enjoy a relaxing day in Guadalajara preparing for the busy week of school and teaching. The week nights have been filled with lesson planning and essay writing. I've taught five classes now, and the certification program is half way done. Thursday we managed to sneak away from school work for a bit and a bunch of my classmates came by for dinner and a few drinks, which a few of us turned into night cap at the bar a couple blocks away. The bar was unique, maybe an old government building, with tall ceilings and several rooms set up for lounging, large painings on the wall and an out of this world local band playing. In an attempt to desribe their unique sound, I will say it was a combination of traditional folk, with classical strings and edgy rock undertones. Each member of the four-person band played several instruments, and the vocalists had almost operetic qualities that added a great touch. The intensity of the violinist made me nastolgic for Tom's cello performances (Tom is an old college friend, a phenomenal musician and brand new father to an adorable baby girl).

Friday night the class went out to celebrate Shellena's 22nd birthday. A quick taxi ride to Provedencia and we were transported to a tiki bar with sand on the patio called, ironically, Wall Street. It was everything opposite that one thinks about when they hear the words Wall Street. Shellena's fiance is in Medical School here, and so our two groups came together to celebrate. The pop music was a great primer for the live bands. First an original called Purpuresuite (or something like that), and the next was a dynamic cover band that managed to play songs from The Killers, Metalica, Katy Perry and Michael Jackson in one set. Dancing was an obvious must. Time flew. It was at least four by the time the taxi brought us back, and about five by the time I fell asleep.

I was so proud of myself for making it up to go to the lake Saturday. Lake Chapala is about 45-minutes away from Guadalajara. It is the largest freshwater lake in Mexico, and like most waterfront destinations a great place to get away and clear your head as you listen to the crashing waves (even if the water has questionable toxicity levels). The hills around it and the mountains across are a lively green and the boardwalk was a great place to take in the views. After a calm sunset we took the bus back. The lack of airconditioning made my carsickness an inevidibility. It was so bad that I called it a night when we got back to town, around 9:30.

Today I got up in time to make it to Catholic mass for the first time in months. The cathedral was peacefull and beautiful. The stainglass windows were what every Catholic church strives to have, and the architecture created a feeling of stability and structure you can only find in buildings with hundred of years of history. Catholic mass is Catholic mass, whether in English or Spanish. I followed along, kneeling when appropriate and sharing the sign of peace. But, despite the overwhilemingly beautiful surroundings, and challenge of understanding mass in Spanish, I couldn't help but play scenes from Dogma over in my head. If you haven't seen Dogma, do, unless you can't laugh at yourself and get offended easily (Kevin Smith has first hand believer experience which is why it's so great).

Anyway, later I finally made it down to exercise day. The city closes down Juarez, a main street a couple blocks north of my posada, people ride bikes, rollerblade and run. There are places to play giant games of chess, checkers and dominoes. And everyone is smiling and waving at eachother. A ton of people come out to be active and interact with their neighbors. I wonder if it would work in Milwaukee. I would love to see them try. Maybe close down Water street for an afternoon. Someone should get on that (maybe I'll write a letter telling the city how awesome it is in Mexico).

After all that, it's time to get some rest before the third busy week of classes...

*As for the title, I fell in a hole. Well, I tripped into one that was half full of garbage on the sidewalk. No damage, except my ego, because the man behind me clearly saw me falling and even tried to warn me but it was too late.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Finding my way around (which way is North?)

Last night I saw Edward Scissor Hands. Not the Johnny Deep cult classic, but a man walking past me on the street dressed in head to toe costume complete with the metal scissor hands. The other day I passed a cat, an Emo teenager chose to wear kitten ears and a tail. Today, it was Little Bo Peep. After sharing these sightings, it is needless to say, Guadalajara is an eclectic city. It’s so refreshing to see people so secure in who they are free to express themselves, one might even say, inspirational. Not that I have an inner desire to dress as my favorite animal (I prefer a skirt, chunky jewelry and impractical shoes), but it’s nice to see people doing what makes them happy, not caring if strangers give them a weird look. What does it matter what they think anyway? And, it’s not just the extremes. Everyone seems to be more expressive here. Everyone is holding hands, and in the plazas couples are not shy to show their affection for one another.



It’s only been a week, but I think I’ve found my café. The wall leading to it is decorated with bright, detailed graffiti, inside they offer caffeinated and alcoholic beverages, free wifi, an art installation customers are welcome to contribute to, and a gallery upstairs currently housing a photo exhibit. If you’ve seen my pictures it’s the place with the Stewie paper character on the register. I see many assignments, like my recently completed essay, being worked on there.
In attempt to better familiarize myself with the city I have roamed around the last two evenings. I’ve stumbled upon at least four last public squares complete with large, historic cathedrals, couples taking dance lessons in the park, a group of people doing a traditional dance in the plaza, a Quinceañera, the fashion district (or at least that’s what I guess it was with the amount of shops selling puffy princess dresses in vibrant pinks and oranges) and the mariachi district. I must say that watching the couples learn to dance in the park made me miss my Fred Astaire friends, and contemplate yet again applying to be an instructor. Who knows what I’ll be when I grow up, hopefully this teaching adventure will help me figure it out…


Anyway, I hear tomorrow is “Exercise Day” on Juarez Street. I guess on Sundays they close down the street and people bicycle, run and play games. I’m excited to go for a run, I haven’t worked out since I got here (besides the copious amounts of walking). For now, it’s time to find out the plans for my first Saturday night in Guadalajara.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

My first official Mexico post (home sweet temporary home)

Before even stepping foot on Mexican soil, a Mexican man (a Mexican-American named Rigaberto flying from Chicago to visit his family in Leon to be exact) reinforced my often ill-advised blind faith in mankind. Never has my heart sunk on an airplane as much as it did when I picked up my bag as we were about deplane in Dallas, and I get motion sickness, horrible motion sickness. I noticed that a few items had fallen out, chapstick, a granola bar. But upon further inspection I realized that not only had these trivial items fallen, but that my wallet was missing. I turned to the man sitting next to me, Rigaberto, and asked the people in front of me and the row in front of them. I got on the floor after everyone got off the plane, still no wallet. I had to catch my connector, and since I had my passport and some cash, I had decided even walletless I’d be on the plane to Guadalajara. As I was leaving my name and contact information with the flight attendant, Rigaberto walked back to the flight attendants with my wallet in hand. He had seen a man in the row ahead pick something up, and after I asked him about my wallet he had the courage to follow the other passenger, as him if he had my wallet, and retrieved it. Not only returning it, but returning it will all of my money still inside. I was speechless. I wanted to give him a hug, but didn’t. I thanked him profusely, and still in awe, rushed to my connecting flight.

At nearly 10 p.m. my flight landed in Guadalajara. I made it through the long customs and immigration lines without being recalled for random inspection. You push a button and if it’s green you’re free to go and if it’s red, they go through all your bags. I held my breath, pushed the button and walked on through when it lit up neon green. The teacher training program I’m in covered my taxi from the airport to Posada San Pablo where I’m staying, and within 40 minutes I arrived at my new temporary home. I have my own room, a room about one and a half times the size of my bedroom at home with two queen size beds in case I want to switch it up every once in a while. I share a bathroom with the other guests and have access to the kitchen. Tonight, one of my classmates, Nathan, cooked a fantastic pasta dinner after we taught our first classes. Anyway, Posada San Pablo is just one and a half blocks from the training center, and right next door to a bakery. I’ve managed to resist the sweets every day except for Tuesday. The chocolate croissant had my name on it (ok, not literally, but seriously having to pass it every day is rough).

I’ve been in class for about eight hours a day since Monday learning how to teach English as a Foreign Language. We spent three days covering techniques, classroom management, grammar, lesson planning and more. Today I taught my first class. I think there’s a phrase for that, something with a little more of a bite than “hitting the ground running.” Regardless of what we call it, at 6:15 this evening I found myself writing “Ms. Mysker” on the board with a blue dry erase marker waiting for my students to arrive. I was teaching, and will teach nine more classes, as a substitute for a teacher at the training program’s partner school. I was supposed to have eight semi-beginner students. When only two arrived I was a bit thrown off. My lesson plan and activities were all designed for a larger class. I tried to adapt the best I could. I tried to shake my nerves, and once I got rolling they all but disappeared. I hope that as I teach more classes my nerves will calm down a bit, and I’ll be more at ease. And since this was my first class, the only way I can go is up. Each of my classes will be observed, and end with a short feedback session. It was a little intimidating at first, but definitely helpful and reassuring. Who knows, I might even be good at this some day?