"For the Boy" (o "ParaChico")

Chiapa de Corzo is one of the oldest towns in Chiapas, the original capitol of the state, home to a pre-Columbian Mesoamerican archeological site and the largest and longest running fair in the Chiapas.

Two weeks ago, I squeezed into a taxi with my Italian neighbors and two of their friends from Italy and ventured to the city to take part in the celebrations. The fair begins in the beginning of January and runs for three weeks. Unfortunately, we got to town a little late and missed much of the traditional dancing and parades. We did, however, stumble upon a restaurant with the best vegetarian fajitas, two musical performances and overall celebrating throughout the fairgrounds (the center of town). Among the flashing lights of the midway rides, people dressed in traditional costumes walked giving praise parachico. The story of the ParaChico was told to me a few different ways, and all in Spanish, so, here is a brief summary of what I could find on the interwebs to help solidify what I heard from the locals.

The legend refers to a wealthy Spanish lady called Maria de Angulo who came to Chiapa de Corzo from an ancient town in Guatemala in the middle of the XVIII century. The purpose of her trip was to find a cure for her ailing son. Once she found the healer or curandero she was looking for, her son was healed and they returned happily to their home. But years later, the whole region of Chiapas was victim to plagues of locusts that ruined the crops and spread hunger and disease across the population. Facing such a catastrophe, the Spanish lady returned to Chiapas with her servants and gave away beans, corn, chicken and money as a token of gratitude for her son´s recovery. This is why, as the servants distributed the coins, they shouted "para el chico, para el chico" meaning "for the boy". Today, people celebrate the good deed with a parade during the fair.


Another legend of Chiapa de Corzo takes place in the 1500s, when the Spanish tried to conquer the area. The first attempt failed, but in 1528, the Spaniards overcame the fierce resistence from the indians. As the Spanish closed in, many indians jumped to their deaths in the Canon del Sumidero.

Also legen...wait for it, and I hope you're not lactose intolerent because the second part is dary, was the stuffed Marlburro cigarette hanging next to the Sponge Bob Square Pants (people love Sponge Bob here). That's right, it was a toy prize available to winners of the horse race game. It wasn't just a cigarette, but the clever maker of this toy printed Marl"burro" and had a photo of a burro underneath. If it wasn't such a horrible product, I'd have to say kudos to the marketing genious who came up with it. My neighbor won one. They also went on the motion sickness enducing Himalaya. I opted out. Not only was it a terrible idea for someone who gets motion sickness sitting passenger in a Ford Escort on a nicely paved road, it was 35 pesos. Too much to pay for nasea in my book. I was, however, glad to know that carnival workers are the same no matter what country you're in. I've never trusted carnival rides, especially ones that go upside down, considering their here today gone tomorrow nature. And the operators usually give me no reason to "buckle in" and enjoy the ride.

Sitting on the curb, waiting for the rest of our group, who we got separated from early on in the night and didn't see again until we were back in Tuxtla, three of us sat on the curb and scanned the crowd. Some of the best people watching happens at carnivals (an international truth). After hearing the booming sounds from fireworks blocks away in my apartment, I finally got to see the colorful lights in the sky instead of merely hearing the explotion.

We ended the night on a narrow street with a friendly man who sold us a six pack and offered snacks and a seat to relax. The festivities were winding down and we chatted about where he was from (Chiapa de Corzo, of course) and what he did for a living (a driver for a government official) and what he thought we should see in the city and Chiapas. The canyon was number one on his list, and I will be taking a boat through the canyon during my long weekend next week. I can't wait.

A kiss hello (o, un beso hola)

The French do it, the Italians do it, and yes, the Mexicans do it too. When greeting friends, or even when meeting new people, a kiss on the cheek is the social norm (unless the friends are both men, in which case some form of a handshake or fist bump will take place).

To be honest, this friendly kiss on the cheek took some getting used to, but this is one thing I won't mind getting accustomed to. Personal space seems to be such a treasured thing back home; people don't let anyone into their little bubble. But why don't we kiss hello? It's nice. And definitely more friendly than a stiff handshake that makes it seem like you've just met the president and CEO of an important company rather than your friend's brother. Sometimes figuring out who gets a kiss hello can be tricky, so, to be safe, I always follow the other person's lead. I don't want to lean in to the wrong person. For example, my boss never kisses hello, but a couple of my co-workers do. I figure if I just do as they do I can't go wrong. And, I'm sure, as the weeks turn into months, my slight American personal space issue will dissolve and I will be kissing hello with the best of 'em.

For a good laugh, check out Jerry's Kiss Hello on YouTube. For some reason it won't let me share it here, but if you search for Seinfield Kiss Hello, the result will be a little gem of comedy touching briefly on the subject of the hello kiss. Enjoy.

High heels and Michael Jackson (o zapatos de tacón y Michael Jackson)

And so begins my effort to increase my elementary school vocabulary. From here on out, my secondary headlines will serve as a way to learn new terms, too bad this time I chose Michael Jackson to feature giving me little opportunity to use my dictionary. Anyways, on to why I've chosen to include any mention of Michael Jackson...

A couple of nights ago, after my evening classes and a bite to eat with my neighbors, I went home to catch some zzzs. (For those of you worried about my ability to find meatless food in Mexico, I was able to get a fantastic salad at this place complete with avocado, cucumber and carrots. But, I do have to stop ordering the most expensive beer, but really Bohemia is the best beer in Mexico.) I laid my head down, cuddled up next to my pup, and when I closed my eyes, what did I hear? None other than Michael Jackson's "Lean on Me" playing in the distance. It made me smile, and added a comforting sense of "home" to my place that night.

Despite Jackson's downward spiral from greatness, his music is still some of the best, and has made its way around the world. "Lean on Me" speaks to something tried and true, something of utmost importance -- friendship. I am lucky enough to have the best friends a girl could ever ask for, even if most are thousands of miles away at the moment. I've said it before, but the only way this Mexican adventure could get any better would be if I could transplant my gringo friends to sunny Tuxtla Gutierrez.

There is no way to smoothly transition from sappy to heels, so I am going to just go for it. And abruptly change subjects... The women of Mexico have a soft spot for heels. And, considering the never level, constantly cracked, sometimes slippery tile walkways between the concrete sidewalks, their ability to walk down the street without breaking their ankles a skill I am hoping to master. Not everyone wear's heels, and I haven't done a study or anything, but I would guess 7 out of ten women in Tuxtla between the ages of 16 and 46 are wearing heels to walk around the city. Today was my turn to try. I left my house and embarked on my six block walk to school in my favorite purple heels. It was a success, no broken ankles or broken heels. This surely won't be a daily endeavor, but I'm hoping with time I will be as good as the other women I see struting their stuff on Avenida Central.

An intro to Tuxtla Gutierrez

If someone asked me where Tuxtla Gutierrez was three months ago it would have taken me more than a minute to find it on a map. Now, it is my home. Tuxtla is the largest municipality in the Mexican state of Chiapas, and has about as many people as Milwaukee. Chiapas is the southern most state of Mexico, and boarders Guatemala, the Pacific Ocean, Veracruz and Oaxaca. And, if you're more of a visual learner, here's a map.

Enough about geography, right? Don't worry, I'm about to tell you about my first few days in the city. I touched down in Tuxtla Sunday, January 2. Even on the luggage conveyor belt, Pipsy was all smiles in her crate. Having her wagging tail greet me was a great way to be welcomed. The school I'm teaching at sent the deputy director to pick me up. I was a little nervous because I wasn't sure what she looked like, but she found me right away. We collected my luggage and headed outside. The climate was a welcome change from the blistering cold of Wisconsin winter. I left wearing a dress, unexpecting how windy it would be upon arrival. I'm sure it was comical to watch me try to keep my skirt down while dragging my luggage. Luckily, Lety has an SUV and was able to fit Pipsy's unnecessarily large crate and my two pieces of luggage. The drive from the airport was a pretty straight shot, and after being in Guadalajara, I was less worried by the amount of graffiti I saw on the way into town (and in town as well). It seems almost every street has at least one building or sign with a street artist's rendition of his or her name or favorite animal. It isn't a sign that one neighborhood is worse than another, it seems to be a part of the landscape here.

We stopped first at my apartment. The apartment building is behind a locked gate, a plus, and my place is on the ground level, another plus, considering Pips. I have a small kitchen with a semi-stove top and a small fridge (about 1/3 larger than your average college refrigerator). I knew it would be small, and really, I don't need that much space, but it's going to take some love to make it a home. The walls are concrete, giving it a very dorm-like feeling and the front door is metal. Knowing me though, I won't be spending too much time in my apartment. And having a place to rest my head after exploring and teaching is all I really need.

And, the best thing about my place is that when I walk outside and look north, or south, I have a great view of the mountains. It is expecially beautiful at night, with the lights on the foothills leading up to the mountains.

Lety then took me to lunch at Toks at the Plaza Americas, and then to Soriana (similar to a Walmart, which they have here too, sadly) to pick up odds and ends I would need for my place. The first night I procrastinated unpacking by roaming the city a bit and of course, getting a good night sleep. My second day Lety showed me around the major parts of town. Marimba Park (just four blocks from my place) is a gathering place for young and old. There is live marimba music nightly and a cute cafe (BioMaya Organic) that will fast become my writing space. We walked to the intersection of Central Avenue and Central Street where the San Marcos Cathedral, and main plaza are located.

All of the streets are numbered from this point, in a grid. I love grid cities. For example, I am at 10 poniente, between second and third north (or, ten blocks west of San Marcos and about two blocks north). Lety showed me how to get to the school from my place, about a six block walk and adjacent to a park where they have an outdoor roller rink and anything else you could want in a park. A grid city, and being able to walk to work, plenty of parks, what an ideal situation (maybe I can find a place like this in the states to call home upon my summer arrival, any suggestions?).

Pipsy has also been finding her way, and has made friends with the landlord's chihuahua. She has fun chasing "Peque" around while he timidly tries to play but eventually winds up hiding under the VW bus parked next to the office. My neighbors suggested "peque" stands for pequeno (with an accent over the n, meaning small). I like to think that's what it means, it makes so much sense.

Tuesday I started training, Wednesday I signed my contract, and by Friday I was teaching. In between all that I was nursing a terrible cold. Between flying, the weather change and going in and out of air conditioning, it was bound to happen. It made the first week a little less adventure filled, but hey, I have lots of time and have already discovered some great places in Tuxtla.

This semester I will be teaching three "level 4" classes, the highest level, and one level 3 class on

Saturdays. My level 4 classes are each two hours long, every day (so six teaching hours a day) and my level 3 class is four hours on Saturdays. It will sure to keep me busy, and I will surely learn alot. Since it is a language school, the levels can be of all ages. My youngest student is about 13, and the oldest, probably 40. They are all great groups and I can't wait to get to know them all better.

On Friday, despite the sinus pressure, I ventured out with my Italian neighbors after work. We found a noisy sports bar a few blocks from our place filled with excited soccer fans all sporting orange jerseys. After some botanas (bar food, but better because here bar food can include delicious quesillo and muchroom enchiladas), we were welcomed by our soon-to-be friends at the neighboring table. I learned a bit of Mexican and Italian folklore (what I could gather from the rapid Spanish) and tried to share a bit about myself in my work-in-progress Spanish. I hope to be able to find someone take classes from while I'm here, going out and talking to people helps, but I think I really need more help to be as fluent as I want to be when I get back. I left a bit earlier than my neighbors, to rest up for class Saturday morning.

Nine o'clock came early, and after teaching for four hours we had a team meeting. I met all of the other teachers, most of them Mexican and a few other foreigners. I'm the only one from the US now. We had quesadillas at the restaurant across the street from school, supposedly the best in the city, and even though I haven't been to many other places, I'd have to agree so far. Our meeting was typical meeting banter, policy, procedure, etc. We took a group photo for the newspaper and were on our way.

Saturday night I ventured out on my own to Marimba Park. Everyone was dancing. My favorite part about large gatherings like this is that it doesn't matter if you're 2 or 82, everyone is moving to the beat. When I first got there it was a rumba, then a paso doble, then marimba. I was lacking a partner, but still moving to the beat near the sidelines when a young girl asked me to join her and her sisters for a dance. It was so much fun being a part of the crowd, alongside the grandmas and toddlers and fathers and daughters. After dancing I took a break and went to the BioMaya for the first time and had an Italian Cappiacino. I got a bit of energy, went back to listen for a bit longer and headed home feel like I was finding my place in Tuxtla.

It was a bit of a lazy Sunday for me. I took Pipsy for an extra long walk, all the way to the cathedral. When we got home I got the idea to see a movie, so ventured in what I thought was the direction of Plaza Americas. I knew it would be a long walk, but when, after 45 minutes I still hadn't found it, or any sign of it, I got in a taxi back to my place. I re-checked the movie times, and took a taxi later to catch the 6:15 showing a Gulliver's Travels (In English with Spanish subtitles). I had some time to shop before the show, and wandered around the mall. It is amazing to me how malls in most places are all the same, but each with their own little quirks. For example, in Plaza Americas there is a little train that drives through the mall honking it's horn at each pass to warn shoppers to move aside. It's fun, almost like the buses that are decked out like animals at the Brookfield Zoo. As for Gullver's Travels, it was a fun movie, made even better by the extremely American references that just didn't translate making me the only one laughing out loud in the theater and Jason Segal.

All in all, a good end to a busy week of settling in, finding my way and getting used to life in Mexico.