It gets better

So- Christmas Day was hard. It kind of came out of no where. I mean, I was expecting it to be hard, but the 24th went so well/fun/easy that I was expecting Christmas Day to be the same. But it just wasn´t.

For one thing, there were some unforseen "Host Family Conflicts" that I´m just going to attribute to that fact that they miss their real son right now as much as I miss my family. I really don´t think it was my fault, and I´m not going to go into detail here, but it made Christmas morning less than enjoyable for everyone. So that made me feel really sad. You know when you are in a bad mood and you just feeling like moping around in self-pity? I think being in another country on Christmas makes it WAY worse. As exchange students, we just don´t have the option of being angsty. (ROTARY SMILE)

It´s like on Christmas Eve I had my perky "I am a cultural amabassador and I love EVERYTHING new you can throw at me" face on, but by Christmas Day I just felt really, really, icky.

So this is how I felt as we piled into the car to go to "Grandma´s House". Not great. But as we were driving, my host dad was just like: "HOLY &%#! THERE´S A RAINBOW!!" And I was like: "What? It´s not even raining." It wasn´t raining. It hadn´t rained all day. The sky was blue. NOT rainbow wheather. But there it was!

This was the most beautiful rainbow I have ever seen in my life. It streched across the entire sky, ending in a puffy white cloud. It had six distinct shades. It looked like something out of an overly cartoony "Noah´s Ark" children´s book. Really, I couldn´t make this stuff up. I just sat there thinking: "This is SO exchange".

It´s the biggest cliche out there, but this is always how it happens. You feel overwhelmed by cultural differences but then you watch "iCarly" with your host siblings and realize that there are some things everyone finds funny. You feel apathetic and stupid, but then you learn some new words and are engaged and excited again. You get sick from the water, but then you eat some papaya and feel fine again. And sometimes, you think you are having the worst day of your life, and a literal rainbow appears. Welcome to Exchange.










IN OTHER NEWS: Today some family is visiting from Jalapas. My 6 year old cousin told me that I talk like a "Vaquera": a cow-herder. Now, I could take this to mean that I have bad grammar, a funny accent, and use weird "country" vocabulary. But she didn´t say I sounded "gringa". I can live with cow-herder.Score.

Fruit Punch

This whole "Advent Calendar" idea really fell through. I´m sorry. The posadas have gotten crazy: They are alwyas really late. Fun, but 7 consecutive nights returning home really late and I´m not sure how perky I´m going to be at the one I have tonight....

Yesterday was our family posada, we went in with my uncle. It was hosted at his house, but we were in charge of most of the food. My host mom and I spent the morning making tortas de cochinita (Think Mexican pulled pork sandwiches) and fruit punch.

They pronounce it like "PONE-chay" and at first I was thinking: "Oh, that´s such a cute way to pronounce ´punch´" Now I think maybe we are trying to say ponche. This beverage is a big deal. I always drink it at posadas, but I´ve never made it before. Ponche is the spiced-cider of Tabasco. It can be as complicated as you like. We started with these fruits (This is a small fraction of how many we used):

But everytime my host mom thought of another fruit it became "important for the recipe". I think it´s honestly just whatever fruit you can get access to, as much as you are able to fit into the pots that you own. As I joke, I found a can of peaches in the back of our cupboard: "Hey: do we need to use these too?" ...."YES! Those are an important part of the recipe!" Ok.... But it was acually really fun. So you hack up all of the fruit into pieces, not super dainty and put them in a pot of water to boil. We used: apple, pear, pineapple, guayaba,  tangerine, those little orange things that I can´t remember the name of, a can of fruit coctail, and a can of peaches. Wow. Then you add the jamaica.

Jamaica is a red flower. We use it to make a beverage of the same name. You can drink jamaica hot or cold, with sugar or without. It has a kind of strong flavor, but I really like it. I will miss jamaica. ANYWAY, you add of a bunch of jamaica to the pots too. Then my mom took some sugar cane and just started cutting into pieces about the length of my fingers. Then we took a sticks of cinnamon and just crumbled them up a bit and threw them in. Like I said, not a dainty recipe. When we finished prep-work we had two large pots full. It looks like this:

Pretty, right? After a day of simmering it´s a light brown shade and it´s impossible to tell the fruit apart, but it smells AMAZING. This was simmering all day long and the house smelled like cinnamon-tropical-fruit goodness. It tastes good too. At first the texture weirded me out: lots of mushy, brown, fruit pieces, but now I can appreciate it. It would be very easy to make a Christmas Party out of this (Bring your own fruit) I think.

We also made a ridiculous ammountof meat. Six kilos of meat. SIX KILOS. Check it out:

I could mu head in there two times, it takes up half the stove. Lots o´Meat.

Happy December 18th!

Light Music.

I hope you listened to that whole song.It´s my favorite song in Spanish. Tonight I went to another posada where they whipped out the karaoke machine and in a matter of minutes I found myself singing this (badly) in front of a group of very supportive and moderately drunk adults. Good times. I think karaoke should be right up there with dreaming in your new language. Big milestone. :) I am exhasted tonight. Better post tomorrow.

Less of a sore thumb.

My hair isn´t blonde.

Is this ok?

YES!

After spending a good part of yesterday in a pharmacy digging through bins of ridiculously cheap (20 pesos!!!) shorts, I impulsively bought a box of hair dye. This pharmacy is on a "semi-sketchy" side of town in the middle of a fruit and veggie market, and while they have impressive sales on shorts and intimate apparel, the hair-dye section is not exactly expansive. So, of my three options (platinum blonde, jet black, and a moderate looking brown shade), I went with the "Macadamia Cafe" ...it worked.

My friend helped me dye it yesterday. She asked me several times if I regretted it, but... I really don´t! New hair is fun! I have never had too much of my identity wrapped up in being blonde and this is an easy change.

Having blonde hair is like walking around with a giant hat that screams: "HOLA SOY EXTRANJERA!!!!" 

All. 

 Day.

Long. 

I just got really sick of it. I still don´t look Mexican, but this actually has already helped quite a bit. Today when walking from my bus stop to the park  no one yelled anything at me. Not anything! It was amazing.

For a while, I got really excited about the idea that someone sitting behind me on the bus might think I was Mexican. Then I was like: "Since when do I care so much about the opinions of strangers?" I´m not really sure. It does feel out of character for me to change myself because of social norms and the opinions of people I´ve never met. I mean, I could get really deep with all of this and link it to my frustrations with cultural differences, maybe this is an attempt to fit in physically since I have such a different cultural mindset, blahblah whatever. But that´s just making way too big a deal out of this.I´d rather say: It´s hair, it grows back, and being impulsive is good sometimes :) Happy December 14th!

Important News...

I know who my next host family is! Normally this is something that kids find out a little earlier (I am going to switch in January) but I´m just happy to know! I will be living with my Aunt Viki! I love her! This is such happy news! I went on a big trip to Central México with her in October, but I literally spend some time every other day at their house because they live with my host Grandma. I think of her as my "fun aunt" and am very excited to live with her and her children.

My cousins are Virginita (11) and Bernardo (13)- I really enjoy spending time with them too. They are great kids and Virginita was my first friend here in México :) I love my current host family, but I´m not sad to switch because I will still probably see them every day, they have also told me many times that if anything doesn´t work out, I am always welcome in their home. The odds of staying in the same extended family were pretty good as about 80% of my club here are blood-relatives. Still- I think it is great that I will be able to experience another home, while still maintaining a relationship with one family. Also- my aunt lives by my favorite running park in the city.

I can´t imagine a more omfortable and natural host family swap and am very excited to get this news! Happy December 12th!

La Posada

All through December here, there are these parties called "posadas". Actually, from December 1-15 it is considered a "Pre-posada", after that until Christmas it´s the real deal. Posada means "Inn". The ones I´ve gone to so far vary greatly, from quiet sit down dinners to loud "entire-extended-family" style dances. There is really only one thing they have in common: singing the Posada. What is the Posada? It´s a call and response song where half of the people go outside onto the street to sing Joseph´s part, the other half stay in and are the inn-keeper. I always go out.

I am going to translate the song for you here in a minute, but before I do, I would like to share a Bible verse. Yes, a Bible verse. Before we delve into the drama and emotion that is THE posada, I´d like to draw atention to how understated this event is in scripture:

Luke 2:6-7 (NIV) (6) While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, (7) and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in clothes and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

That´s it. All it says is that there wasn´t room for them in the inn. This is the only time this is mentioned in the entire Bible. Bear that in mind. If I were saying this outloud, I would clear my throat dramatically at this point:

The First Petition

Joseph: In the name of heaven, we ask that you let us enter the inn, since my beloved wife cannot move!
Inn-keeper: This is not an inn! Pass along, I don´t have to open, not for some villian. 


Joseph: Don´t be inhumane, have the charity that God in heaven rewards!
Inn-keeper: Go already and don´t bother me. If I get angry I will beat you!

The Second Petition


Joseph: We come from Nazareth, I am a carpenter named Joseph.
Inn-keeper: I don´t care what your name is. Let me sleep, I already told you that we are not going to open.

Joseph: I ask for your inn, your beloved home, the Queen of Heaven needs it just for one night!
Inn-keeper: Well, since a queen is asking: How is it that during the night she is walking so alone?

The Third Petition


Joseph: My wife is Mary, she is the Queen of Heaven and is going to be the mother of the Divine Word!
Inn-keeper: Are you Joseph?
Joseph: YES!
Inn-keeper: And your wife is Mary?
Joseph: YES!
Inn-keeper: Then welcome pilgrims! I didn´t recognize you.

Joseph: May God pay you for your charity Sir, and fill your sky with happiness!
Inn-keeper: Blessed is the house that this day can shelter the pure virgen, the beautiful Mary.

At the Doors´Opening


All: Enter Pilgrim-Saints, Pilgrims! Receive this mansion! Although the dwelling is poor we give it with all our hearts!

We sing with great happiness! Happiness with everything considered: Jesus, Joseph and Mary. Yes Mary, we come today to honor.



That inn-keeper sure had a change of heart after Joseph whipped out the whole: "My wife is the queen of heaven" thing, right? He went from "Imma BEAT you!" to "Blessed is the house that can shelter pure, beautiful, Mary" and all within two stanzas!


I´m not Catholic, so I don´t feel that I am in a position to poke fun at any of this. I will say that AWANA (see below) would have been EPIC if instead of NIV we used a Mexican interperatation of the scriptures. Can you imagine what they could do with some of the really dramatic scripture lessons? This was an inconvenience briefly mentioned in one verse. We could probably spend hours doing dramatic call and responses with any one of the parables, and I´m surprised they don´t have operas about those Old Testament battles.

But really, this is a fun, multi-generational tradition. Everyone holds birthday candles while we sing and afterwards we eat and dance and it´s a good time. I´ve already been to several of these and am invited to four more before next Saturday. If I don´t have this song memorized by the time New Years rolls around it will be an act of willful defiance. Happy December 11th!


A note for those of you unfamiliar with AWANA: A.W.A.N.A. stands for Approved Workmen Are Not Ashamed. (2 Timothy 2:15 Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth). It is a club I was a part of from the time I was 3 until I was 14. We memorize a lot of Bible verses, have studies, complete challenges, play games, fun stuff. You work your way through these books, and by the time I was done I had memorized something like 550 verses and learned quite a bit of biblical triva to boot. :) My favorite social studies teacher had daily trivia quizzes in class and consistently referred to me as "Bible Girl". But all kidding aside, I really feel passionate about this program and think it does great work.

The Tree of Christmas.

This is a picture of some friends in the climbing tree. We all just called it "The Climbing Tree". That tree was an entertainment staple during my time at Conserve. It´s literally perfect: You can climb really high without feeling scared because the branches are all spaced so close together. It´s also right next to Big Donahue Lake- beautiful. I love that tree. There are not so many pine trees like that down here.

We´ve got a lot of unfamiliar tropical flowery-looking trees, but I´m honestly terrified of climbing them due to the large populations of lizards, snakes, and biting insects I´ve encountered. I realize I haven´t yet shared my "Mysterious Tropical Insect Bite" story, that´s for another day. Anyway, back to trees. I say that they are unfamiliar, because anytime I ask about the name of a tree, my friends and family tell me: palma. If I ask what kind of palma, I usually just end up feeling really annoying, regardless of their response. I guess I could do some, you know research, if it really bothered me. So for now, we´ll just say that a combination of personal laziness and cultural lack of interest in tree species has left me not-in-the-know.

Basically, the only thing I can tell is that there are not any coniferous trees living in Tabasco. Or so I thought. It turns out natural Christmas trees are all the rage. Every super market has a corner of its parking lot turned into a tree-pen of sorts. The first time I saw this, I literally ran into said tree pen and stood there for about 10 minutes just sniffing the air. It smelled like home. It´s the little things, right?

My family has a tree now, and so does my Grandma, so I´m getting plenty of quality "tree-time" (And yes, sometimes I still just stand there sniffing it). But there is one thing that has put a bit of a damper of my enjoyment. They don´t water their trees here. They nail them into wooden "X" shaped supports like Charlie Brown´s tree had. In my family back home, or tree sits in a big pot of water that we change really frequently ("Give the tree a nice, big, drink now") Of course, in my family we have also been known to give our trees names, but that´s beside the point....

I feel very sad for our tree here. It´s pretty right now, but I can already see it whithering. We got it late (late being around November 24th) so that, in the words of my host mother: "It won´t turn brown until a couple days after Christmas". I have a feeling that a brown tree in the house could be a bit of a downer, yes.

So- those were some thoughts on "Arboles de Navidad". In other news, today is my fourmonthiversary here in México! Go team! Happy December 10th!

Can we pretend today is the ninth?

Ok, I know it´s not, but I didn´t get home last night untill almost 4 am, and I didn´t feel especially bloggy. However, something VERY VERY exciting happened Dec. 9th.....I got a package from my family! There were so many good things in there!

Running Clothes!

Super Elaine-friendly Wall Decs!

At this point in the photo-shoot, my camera died (Not died-died, just need batteries), but I figured that since I don´t want to do THREE posts tomorrow, it would be better for me to just to a foto-skimpy post today. I also got a really pretty ring that says: "Life is about the journey, not the destination" on the inside, A copy of the book Ruthless Trust, a new skirt, a pretty shirt with flowers, a UW Christmas ornament that sings "On Wisconsin", and a bunch of other really cool things that I´m not going to write because they are presents for my host family.

I got to open this wonderful package with Mama and Erica and Elyssa over skype. It almost felt like we were together.....so fun. After skype-ing I had a predictable emotional breakdown, but now feel fine again. I really miss my family right now. It´s hard to express it, but it´s like I can physically feel the missing of people I love back home. This is definitely the worst it´s been since early August. 

But still, it was a very happy December 9th! (There should be another post here in about a half hour) 

This piñata does not resemble Summer Wheatley....

A couple of weeks ago, my Danish friend Marie came home to find this sitting on the floor in her room. Make the biggest circle you can with your arms. Open that up by about two feet. Now you have the size of the giant, unexplained paper-maché object that appeared in her bedroom. She had no explanation for why this thing was there: her birthday is in July, and mid November seems early for Christmas traditions. The way she tells it, there was a following conversation that went something like this:

Marie: Mamá, did you know that there is a GIANT PIÑATA in my room?

Mamá: Of course- I put it there!

Marie: But why?

Mamá: What do you mean?

Marie: Why did you put a GIANT PIÑATA in my room?

Mamá: Don´t you like piñatas?

Marie: Well, yes I like piñatas, but....

Mamá: There you go- enjoy it!

At this moment in time, the piñata is still sitting in the exact same spot. My friend has spent weeks tip-toeing around this thing as she gets dressed in the morning. You can sit on her bed and look at it. The natural thing to do would be to invite some people over and break it-right? But I don´t know: what if December 19th is national "Break-That-Piñata-Your-Mother-Gave-You" Day? Is she supposed to save it? Then again, what if host-mom feels offended because she didn´t invite friends over to break it? How exactly does one enjoy a Christmas piñata?

To make the situation slightly more awkward, she recently discovered the piñata is filled, not with candy, but clappy hand toys. Yes. These things.

At this point I would like to open the floor to any and all suggestions on how to enjoy a large piñata filled with clappy hand toys. Points for creativity. Gold star if you´d like to buy some. 

But all kidding aside, this situation is really representative of what it´s like to spend a major holiday away from home. You´re going along just fine, and then suddenly your room is invaded by a paper-mache globe wielding unfamiliar cultural expectations. You can get stressed, or you can laugh. Everyone does a little of both, and somehow it works out. 

I´ve spent the last 15 Christmasses enjoying familiar traditions, delicious foods, singing sentimental songs, and spending time with my loving family. I love that. I´m really glad that I will be able to go back to that. At the same time, it´s good for me to loosen up and change the way I think about this time of year. I realize that I´ve had such rigid expectations for what constitutes this season, it´s good to learn new traditions. Because really, learning to be happy while things are new and unpredictable is a skill, and a useful one at that. 

I think every now and then, it´s good to have a clappy-hand-piñata show up in your room. Happy December 8th!

Subject Change!

I am posting something decidedly not-Christmasy today, lest I run out of interesting Christmas topics too soon and spend December 23rd writing about ants or lizards or something again. Also, I´ve been meaning to post about Ana for a while, so here we go.

 This is a picture with Ana. She is my friend, and a cool kid. This particular foto is us being impressed with a pineapple-upside-down cake containing enough gluten to entirely destroy her. 

I met Ana during my time at Conserve School, and we became pretty good friends. She lives on the East Coast and has a tendency to go gallavanting on international adventures, so we didn´t get to see each other during the summer (check the blog to read what she was up to). However, during the past four months she has become one of my chief emotional supports, and possibly the person who understands what this is like more than anyone. Why is this? Ana is living in Peru.

The reason for her being there is REALLY cool. She is not an exchange student, but is volunteering in a small village, living near a dorm where middle-school-age indigenous girls who live too far away from school to travel every day, come to live and study during the week. She explains all of it much better here. You should seriously read that whole page- it´s really good. 

The challenges we have and things we enjoy doing are really different day-to-day. Our lives aren´t really similar at all (besides the Spanish, or Costellano for her), but somehow after talking I feel like she knows exactly what I´m going through. I´m really blessed to have that.

So, in conclusion: Ana Komar is my friend. Today is December 6th. Tomorrow I think I will post about Christmas trees. Happy Tuesday!

Keeping It P.C.

This is a foto from my family´s nativity scene. I will talk about nativity scenes in general later, today I am going to focus on one particular character. Because, you see, it seems to be a widely accepted fact here in México (or at least Villahermosa) that among a cast of blindingly white angles, shepherds, Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, one of the three wisemen is of African descent. When they stand in a line he is always in the middle. In every public and private nativity scene I´ve come across, there is this one king whose skin tone is considerably darker than everyone else. 

I´m going to explain now: I think it´s about time we stop pretending that everyone at the stable was white. Really: It´s ok to say that Mary didn´t have golden ringlets. Racial diversity is cool, and I think we should reflect that in nativity scenes too. The "problem" if you will, that I have is not with the idea of a non-caucasian wise-man, but rather the manner in which it is presented down here. 

I´m hoping it´s a coincidence that he is the only figurine in my host family´s scene that doesn´t light up. I´m also trying to ignore the fact that in front of my brothers´school, the doctor´s office, and the bank every figure is full of lights during the night, except the king in the middle who is only outlined in lights....it actually makes me cringe a little. I´m not really sure why it seems offensive, it just seems like one of those things you shouldn´t do. ("One of those things you shouldn´t do" is a cultural baggage "Red-Flag" phrase, in case you´re interested)

Beacuse really- who am I to be offended? They must not mean badly. This is one of those things that if you asked people about, they would probably say they didn´t notice, or that it doesn´t matter. No one is try to be insensitive (I hope) to African-Mexicans, it´s just one of those things that stands out to me because I am a foreigner. Also coming from the U.S. I think we are more concerned with being P.C. in the states than any other country, but more on that later.

I guess I don´t have much of a point with this post. Just one of those little things that reminds me I´m really not Mexican. Also: all of the wise men should be light-up. 

The Weather Outside: Not-So-Frightful

Ok- so I´m cheating a little bit. I took this foto in Playa del Carmen: it just seemed like a good one to use when talking about weather. After spending months enduring first extreme heat and humidity, then living through a tropical "rainy season", I wasn´t sure what to expect from December. Well, I mean NOT SNOW, but beyond that I had no idea. Turns out, December here is heaven.

Actually starting almost two weeks ago, the temperature has stayed between 70-80 degrees every day. We have WIND, which is sort of unprecedented, and sometimes there are clouds in the sky to block the sun. If my friends from Wisconsin can imagine that "Indian Summer" feel we get if we´re lucky for a few days in September, that´s what it´s like.

 You may be asking: since when does 80 degrees feels cool and refreshing? Come visit sometime in August.

Anyway, while I´m really enjoying it, this is giving that "There is no Christmas" part of my brain more to work with. It´s weird, because I can see the decorations and know on a thinking level that it´s December, but at the same time it´s a lot easier to imagine everything from back home is frozen and nothing important is going to happen without me. Is exchange giving me a narcisistic complex? Time will tell.

For now: Happy December 4th! (And enjoy your freezing temperatures and bare-trees)

Watertonians Unite!

Today´s post is probably only interesting to two people: my mother, and Mrs. Wagner (Taylor´s mother). Taylor is a friend of mine who is also an outbound from Watertown Rotary Club, we are the first in over 20 years. Somehow we ended up in the same country, living in states next door to each other, cool- right? Today, through a mix of her district´s "Gran Viaje", my family´s availability to drive, and a long stream of text messages eventually leading us to a KFC on the outskirts of town, my host-dad and I managed to find them and I got to chat for an hour. I think we packed more into that hour-long conversation than I had thought possible! It really was great to see her, and I think we are planning to do more in-depth-type visits in the somewhat near future (< That´s us being hopeful, but not having a plan or being allowed to travel alone. When I talked to my host dad, his response was: "You never know what can happen in this life" Non-commital, but also not shutting me down entirely, VERY Mexican :) ). If you want to staulk her blog (I do) its: www.taywagner.blogspot.com, check it out!

So that´s all for now. Hopefully our mothers can see that we are smiling in the sunshine, safe in México, and all is well. Happy December 3rd! 

Snow of Paper

Yesterday I taught my little brother how to make paper snowflakes. Being in the land of "papel picado" I wasn´t expecting anyone to be overly impressed, but he actually loved it and we had a lot of fun! Due to my family´s seemingly neverending supply of colored paper, most of the snowflakes we made don´t exactly look "wintery"....then again this is México. I think if it snowed, it probably WOULD come down  in greens, pinks, and oranges. Happy December 2nd!

It´s that time of year....

They tell me that Christmas is the hardest part of exchange. In this case, the ever-ambiguous "they" is my copy of The Exchange Student Survival Guide. It hasn´t failed me yet, and so I´m expecting this next month to be fun, but challenging. I´ve already survived the weirdest Thanksgiving of my life: 14 hours on a bus with the most substantial meal being a gas-station-ham-sandwich and no contact whatsoever with my family back home. Christmas will have to try really hard to be stranger than Thanksgiving. Nonetheless, I´m trying to emotionally prepare myself for the fact that this month will not be in the tradition of past Decembers. I think I can handle it, but we´ll see….

The purpose of this blog is to introduce you to my “advent calendar” idea. While I can´t promise cheap chocolates or witty limericks, I AM going to try to post every day leading up to Christmas. Yes, EVERY DAY. These posts will be short. They might just be a photo. They might explain a difference between an Anderson and a Rodríguez-Salomón family Christmas. They might be me whining. They might not even be related to Christmas at all. I´m not really sure, but it should be entertaining.

I am actually going to start today with a photo that doesn´t seem related to Christmas at all:

Those are all people from my country! Crazy! Getting to chill with a bunch of Americans (There were some that didn´t make it into the picture), was a super cool early Christmas present. It was so surreal to be surrounded, if only for a short time, by people who are learning to relate to this culture from the same point of view as me. I don´t know if that sentence made sense, but basically: We made friends very quickly.

In other news, tomorrow I am going to a Preposada. That means a pre-pre-Christmas dinner. Mexicans might be late to school, but every house on my street had its Christmas lights out before Thanksgiving. My friends started asking me if I felt the “Spirit of Christmas” around mid-November. People are STOKED. I am really looking forward to learning their new traditions, sharing familiar ones, and hopefully letting you all in on it too: Time to kick off December!

Thanks, but I can pick up my own pen.....

(If you feel so inclined: read this blog while listening to "Anthem" by Superchick)

“Well, now Elenita can get married.”

Yesterday, I had to give a presentation in my Club. It was about my family, city, school, state, country, etc. Fun stuff. I was supposed to make food for everyone, so I baked chocolate chip cookies and made stuffed zucchini. Apparently they passed some sort of universal taste test. My host dad was the first one to inform me that I was allowed to get married. At the meeting, my Club President, Counselor, and several Rotarians informed me of the same fact, individually and at different times. Everyone had the same timing and laughed at the exact same point. Obviously it was a joke, but it got me thinking. If I had burned the cookies would I have received: “Nice try dear, but it looks like you are going to be an old maid now.”?

This seems like a good time to bring up gender roles. Here in Tabasco there are many unspoken, yet rigid expectations for both men and women. There are also (what I interpret as) blaring discrepancies pertaining to the idea of “respect”. I´ve been here long enough now that I think I can explain this moderately well. I´m just going to write a bunch of paragraphs about difference things that I´m seeing- it´s going to jump around a bit, but hopefully by the end you´ll have an idea of what it´s like to live here.

My host mom is a doctor, specifically a pediatric orthodontist. She works two jobs. In the morning she is the first one to wake up, she makes us lunches to bring to school and is the first one out the door, before 7 o´clock. Around 4pm she picks up my brothers from school, comes home with them, cooks again and goes to her other job. She comes home between 8-9 pm when she cooks again, and usually tries to get to bed before midnight. Somewhere in there she eats (I think) and has some time to use the computer and talk to the rest of the family a little, she also spends quite a bit of time daily doing my eight-year-old brother´s homework, he needs a lot of help. She is SUPER overworked.

If you´re like me, you´re thinking: “Why don´t the other members of the family help her? Elaine- why aren’t you cooking some of those meals????” The answer: she is the mother. And that´s what mothers do. It´s simple, universal, and unquestioned. The first time I asked about chores they actually laughed at me. I usually wash dishes, and I do my own laundry and keep my room clean, but other than that I am pretty much a useless lump in terms of housework. Mamá does it all. Well, most of it. We have a “señora” (like all wealthy families) who comes three times a week to do laundry and wash the floors/bathrooms. But that´s going to have to be another post- I have too much to say about that social norm. Anyway- my point? Women who work a lot outside of the house are still expected to do “Stay-At-Home-Mom” type things. This is true for all of the adult women I know, and most likely the cause of those dark circles under the eyes.

So if that´s what adult women are doing, what sort of social expectations are there for the teenagers I go to school with? From what I can tell, most girls spend a lot of time looking pretty. I don´t mean that they´re ditzy and sit around all day, I mean they spend WAY more time than I am used to on hair and makeup. I have seen girls in the school bathrooms putting on fake eyelashes….for CLASS. Glitter hair spray, sparkly eye-makeup, lip-gloss and foundation on person at all times. I think the real reason for uniforms is actually a time-saving attempt on behalf of the female student-body: based off of what I see at parties, I can´t imagine what would happen if everyone picked out their own outfits for school daily. Now, obviously they are complex people like everyone I know. I want to stay away from the “us” and “them” mentality, it´s just a pretty glaring difference.

I´m not sure, but I think the boys might be spending just as much time looking nice. Most boys have hair with that …”crispy” looking texture of a bit too much gel. The boys also tend to sit in groups, and several guys in my class always carry soccer balls with them. Mind you- they are not allowed to DO anything with them, and there are places where they could store them, but no. “Hello, my name is I-Play-Fútbol”. I don´t find this to be overly impressive, but apparently it works and is even “SO HOT!!!!!!!!!!” in the eyes of some of my peers.

When walking with a guy-friend, I generally try to avoid closed doors as often as possible. Every male here has been programmed to race ahead, open the door and gesture for you to pass with a sweeping hand-motion that makes me feel like I´m in a Jane Austen novel. At first it was fun, but now I just feel super high-maintenance. On a scale of “Oh-That´s-Nice!” to “I-KNOW-How-To-Open-A-Door- Thankyou” I find myself leaning more towards to latter. Of course, that´s only on the inside. I actually smile, say thank you, and if possible, demurely avert my eyes- Why? Because that´s what girls do.

There´s a big difference between that sense of almost smothering chivalry, and the way men act when they don´t know you. I still can´t walk around without getting really obnoxious commentary on the streets. It makes me cringe and want to be invisible.  But at the same time, I know that that man in the truck who just whistled at me would gladly carry my groceries if he saw me having trouble at the store. Are you starting to see the discrepancies?

Everything from milk cartons to dog food packages are covered with images of half-naked women, while the more “serious” commercials involving things like insurance and cars show professional men in business suits. The man is the head of the house, end of story. Sports are divided into “girl” and “boy” and not questioned. I feel like the gender “norms” of my past life are actually walls here.

So, to conclude this ramble: I learn a lot from watching how my aunt raises my baby cousin. He´s two years old. The other day I was painting my nails with my 11-year-old cousin, when he toddled his way over, wanting to join in. My aunt came in from the other room immediately and sat him down to explain “Nails are a girl thing- to look pretty! Girls are supposed to look pretty. Boys are strong. You are a boy, a strong boy!” Suddenly it all came into perspective: What if everyone here had spent their childhoods being told that- in various circumstances/examples? Of course the girls spend hours getting ready to go out! It made sense!

But then I looked at my aunt- a single mom working two jobs, maintaining a house and raising her baby. Honestly, I don´t care about “social norms”:

I think girls can be pretty AND strong.

The Fifth Sense

I´ve never been an especially touchy person. My family is laughing right now and making comments about dramatic understatements and the century. Throughout my childhood, I was the sort of kid who needed warning before a hug, and got flinchy when someone tried to brush my hair. I don´t think I had legit sensory issues or anything; I just needed mental preparation before physical contact, that´s normal-right? …Ok-so maybe I had some issues…  Anyway, I relaxed a lot during Conserve; got less twitchy, and can now enjoy hugging/being hugged like a normal human being. (Necessary Background Info: CHECK)

I don´t remember the name of the first person I met at school. What I DO remember is that this person put his arm around my shoulder and with his face inches away from mine said: “Hello, I´m (probablysomethinglikejuan). Where are you from? What´s your name? What do you like about México?” I kind of blanked. So much eye-contact! So much touching! I was already stressed out by my lack of Spanish and the prospect of kissing every person I would meet and now this strange boy was expecting a coherent response? I think I eventually managed to translate the “imelenaimnot  frommexicoilikeitinmexicowhenpeopledontsitinmydesk” in my head into something more socially acceptable. But just barely: case in point? I haven´t talk to that guy since and still don´t know his name.

They warned me about this. That at first it would be really awkward to adapt to the different ideas about physical contact and personal space. No one was trying to make me uncomfortable or act weird, it´s just a cultural difference. I KNEW this in my head, but it´s another thing entirely to re-train your initial responses to things. Life lessons like “Don´t kiss strangers” have been sort of ingrained in me, and a plane ride can´t instantly “correct” that.

Actually (and unexpectedly), the cheek-kiss thing hasn´t really fazed me at all. I got used to it quickly, and it´s a nice way to greet someone. It´s also so OBVIOUSLY different that it was easy to remember. I think it´s actually harder to adjust to the more subtle, almost subconscious differences, like eye contact.  Those are the ones I always catch myself on.

At first, when trying to talk to someone, I could work my way across a room as we both tried to politely create a “comfortable” communication space: I shifted onto a back leg, they leaned forward, I took a little half step away, and so on and so on. For me, their “comfortable” was like sitting in the front row of a movie theatre, but they felt like I was shouting across the room.

Obviously everyone here has a different comfort level, space wise. I´m not going to try to say that this entire country acts the same: I have one uncle who is really concerned with germs, and so he doesn´t hug or kiss. Everyone knows this and is just shakes hands with him- no big deal. It´s also not like you greet every person you run into on the street. The “strangers” I talked about earlier are people I was introduced to. I think, in general, that of the five love languages Physical Touch would be at the top of a lot of people´s lists, but I don´t want to exaggerate.

Somehow, I´ve gotten used to it. Of the changes I´ve been noticing in myself, this is one of the most dramatic, yet also one that has happened very slowly and subtly.  It´s like the smell of my host family´s house: The house doesn´t smell bad at all- it was just different. For weeks, every day I would come home after school and think: “This does not smell like my house. This smells like México. I feel homesick.” (Attitude problems much?) But as I got more connected at school and with my family, I entered the house thinking about other things and forgot that it smelled “wrong”. It wasn´t until October that I remembered again that the smell used to make me homesick. That´s a silly example, but I think it´s basically the same process.

I now find myself holding onto people´s arms when I talk to them, braiding other people´s hair without warning, and comfortable sharing desk seats. Ok- I might need a little more time to develop the “Why-sit-next-to-when-you-can-sit-on?” attitude, but we´re getting there. The point is: if my version of “adaption” here is forgetting which things used to make me uncomfortable, I can live with that. When I compare how I saw this place in August to how I see it now, it´s like going from black and white to color. I´m more than willing to change, because if that´s 3.5 months, I can´t imagine how I´ll feel about this city in another seven.

Color me....right.

I had a great kindergarten teacher. Really. From pulling teeth to reading aloud to throwing 100th-day-of-school parties: this lady had it down. We all loved her, but knew there was one issue she was very strict about. When coloring, we had to use the correct colors. It did not matter that we were 5 and 6: Squirrels are not green and trees are not purple, and if we colored them this way, we were told to redo it. I´m still not really sure why, but it´s something that has stuck with me.

I´ve found myself thinking about that coloring rule a lot these past months. Because, you see, it is one thing to read about racial diversity/lack thereof and it is quite another to be the only blonde ponytail in a classroom of 45.

I am not dealing with discrimination/bullying at all. I have some great friends, and the fact that I can speak Spanish pretty well now helps a lot. I don´t feel like people are treating badly….still…..It is surreal to stick out like this. I already said that there isn´t much (read: any) Tourism appeal to my city, and so there aren´t very many foreigners here. There are a few European exchangers and an American too, but I still attract a lot of attention walking. I also attract attention in Restaurants. And stores. And school. And, ok, you get the point. This is something that I have literally NEVER experienced before.

Growing up in the Midwest, I have been surrounded by pale skin and blue eyes my whole life. Now I find myself referred to/called by my hair or skin color on a daily basis. Gringa, Guerra (sp?), Blanca, Rubia…. At least there´s never any confusion who´s being referred to.

You see, I have a skin tone that inspires self-congratulatory high-fives amongst sun screen manufacturers. While I was still living in the U.S. I got an endless stream of comments. One morning last Spring, I had this conversation with my math teacher in front of the class:

“WOW Elaine, are you sick?”

           “Nope. Feel pretty good.”

“Are you sure? You just look SO pale.”

          “This is my skin color.”

“I think it´s because your shirt is a bright color and then it´s just…..WHITE.”

              “Can I sit down now?”

Another teacher once told a story, in which the blizzard was as “White as Elaine….(pregnant pause)….´s sweatshirt”. Before I left for Mexico, back in Grand Rapids, I had a Mexican inbound inform me that I was very white “Even for an American”. You´re starting to imagine how I stand out here. This is one reason why I am not considering dying my hair. I don´t think I´d be an especially sparkly vampire.

It´s funny, but at the same time, it frustrates me to know that 8 months from now (Yes, I´ll still be here) when my Spanish is near perfect, and I´m thinking like a Mexican, people on the street will still pick me out as an “Extranjera”. They will still ask if I´m lost. I will still look like I don´t belong here. My accent won´t ever counteract my skin color and that´s something I have no control over.

So deep down, I know there are whole countries full of people who look like me. I know that this is one year of my life, and it isn´t going to kill me. I know that I´m learning some great first-hand lessons about race, and the people who are really important (My friends and host family) are the ones whose opinions matter.

Nonetheless, there are still times when after a really long day, I look in the mirror and can´t help but think that if Mrs. Schroeder was here, she would give me a “Nice Effort” sticker and tell me to try again. The coloring just isn´t quite right.

Making the Cut

I haven´t posted in a while. Ok, So I went on an AWESOME trip to seven cities in Central México with my family and I wasn´t feeling especially desirous of the internet, but still, I know it´s good to update.

SO, while I´m working on a real post I thought I´d just share this with you:

This is my little brother´s school project, now hanging on the fridge. Despite my armless, neck-tumored state, this really does warm my heart. It looks like I will just be having one host family this year, so it´s good to make it onto the fridge.

Hold on to Your Hats

If there´s one thought impressed on outbounds during the various orientations it is this: "Exchange is a roller-coaster". I think I heard it from at least six different adults at Grand Rapids alone, and almost every rebound I talked to also shared it. I find it intruiging that we all cling to the EXACT same metaphor, so I am hoping to (in this shorter-than-usual post) expand on it a little bit. Because while this works for describing many parts of exchange, they are definitely some places where this stops funcioning.

Approximately fourteen months ago, my parents and I casually got in the back of the line. We had read some books, and it sounded like fun. Also, there was a huge crowd of teenagers who had just gotten off screaming how awesome it was. We didn´t make any commitments, just got in line: filled out the application, took the interviews and waited.

Then, once we found out I was allowed to go, we paid the first big chunk of my ticket. We knew this would be a really expensive ride, paid in increments, but by paying we made the commitment to follow through. Then the waiting began.

We waited in line for what seemed like forever. Every so often I was given directions on how to best enjoy it. Every couple months I received a bit of information on what it would be like. We kept paying and waiting and getting information and waiting, and suddenly I was at the front of the line. It was my turn to go next, and my parents hugged and kissed me and said goodbye and I was sitting there by myself.

And THAT is where the metaphor falls apart. Because, unlike a rollercoaster, I have no idea what will happen next. There is no pre-charted course for exchange. I can´t anticipate the dips or curves or loops. I couldn´t see what would happen before I strapped myself in, and now, though I have two months behind me, every day is still surprising and new and unpredictable.

Two months ago, I would have labeled this as “stressful”. Actually, some days I still feel like that, but I can now choose to view it more positively. I have approximately eight months and two weeks left to be here. I have no idea what will happen in that time, but I better make the most of them. I need to enjoy each day and live on a day to day basis. I can´t see the whole ride but one day is a manageable size chunk, and if I can do one day I can do the next, and so on.

Ok, in an effort to keep this blog from being “Attempts at Life Lessons from a Moderately Confused 16-year-old” I should probably stop musing about life now. What I am trying to say is: I don´t know what´s going to happen, but it´s ok. This is really hard. But that´s ok too.

LANGUAGE UPDATE:
Yesterday I went to a movie that was dubbed in Spanish (instead of subtitles), and I UNDERSTOOD it. Seriously, almost all of it. I can have days where I feel like I haven´t made any progress, but I can now have conversations, do homework, read for fun, answer the phone, give directions, and buy things in another language! So far my dreams have been pretty accurate; if they take place in Mexico I speak in Spanish, if they are at Conserve in English, at home dreams usually involve a confused/stressful mix of translating and not understanding each other….but anyway, I think Spanish dreams are a good sign.

I still have A TON to learn. I´m not trying to say I´m conversationally fluent, reading classics, and writing a novel, I have major grammar issues and every day I still have frustrations with my inability to say what I want or as much as I want. People ask me where I am from, and I try to figure out how strong my accent is. But I´ve made progress, and that´s all I can do, right?

An Apple a Day

Healthcare. It´s a hot topic in the U.S. It´s a hot topic in Mexico. Why? Because we want to be healthy. We want to go to the doctor when we need to. We want to get our teeth cleaned and our blood pressure taken and have a nice person in scrubs tell us everything is ok. From what I can tell, this is a universal desire. I can also say that this is not universally available.

Before I start throwing out personal experiences and opinions, I want you to understand the "Official Situation" of healthcare in my state here. So I´ve done some homework for you:

-There are three main types of health care in Mexico: Private Physician, Private Healthcare, and Public Healthcare.

-Private Physician/Healthcare Plan - This is most simple to understand: There are private physicians who have private offices and relationships with families who come to them. They have "regular" customers. It is run on the "free market" system:If you can pay, awesome. If you can´t, you don´t use this. These families seem to have the best healthcare: having a physician you can always just go to. These families also have MONEY. This is not a cheap option, but seems to be pretty common upper-middle class and upwards.

Public Healthcare This is where it starts to get a little more complicated, and the descrepancies start to appear. According to the 4th Article of the Constitution, every Mexican citizen is eligle for full or partially subsidized gov. health care. Great! But this depends on work status. Unemployed citizens get to use SSA Plan(English: Secretary of Health.) If you are working, you get to step up the ladder a bit and use IMSS (English: Mexican Social Security Institute). Public Sector workers are really special and use ISSSTE (English: Institute for Social Security and Services for State Workers). These different plans all have different levels of deductibles and different levels of care available. From what I can tell, in this sytem the length of acronym is directly related to the quality of plan.

According to WHO, México isn´t really doing that badly:

-100% of routine EPI vaccines here are financed by the government

- The life expectancy in Mexico is 73 (male) and 78 (female)

-94% of births are attended to by a skilled health professional

This is really great, and probably contrasts with that image stuck in your head of Mexico City in facemasks (H1N1). So I´m going to confuse you even more now and describe the "emergency room" situation as I know it. This is where the personal opinion/experience comes in:

The sign read urgent care. Judging by their faces, the sign was correct. There were about three dozen people, from children to very elderly folks sitting around the door. They weren´t sitting on benches or padded chairs. They weren´t reading "People Magazine". The kids didn´t have suckers and the space was devoid of inspirational posters and fake plants. Actually, it looked sort of like a parking lot to me: Outside, and with a concrete floor. We were there to hand out bread.

Inititally, I didn´t understand this service project. "We are going to distribute bread in a hospital?". But hospitals were full of bread! And really: Who has time to munch on a hard roll when they are in the emergency room? Quickly, like so many situations here, I realized how wrong my preconceptions were. The people in front of me had all been sitting there for more than 12 hours. Some of them would wait 12 more. We were distributing bread, because they couldn´t get up and leave or they would lose their place in "line".

I say "line" because patients with really URGENT situations get to enter first. We do this in the U.S. too: The dramatic freak-accident needs to be seen before the "I think I have an ear-ache". Fine. But the problem is that here, the patients with the better "coverage" get seen first too. This is where those acronyms start to be really important. The family who´s been sitting outside for 12 hours will have to sit a little bit longer if a government official shows up. But that family will still be able to enter before the unemployed mother who is REALLY at the bottom of the totem-pole.

The people who had done this service project before told us that it was most important to get bread to the people sitting down. It´s easier to get to the door first if you are standing up, so sitting down implies something is really wrong. What kind of strange planet was I on? This did NOT feel like a hospital to me.

Are you starting to feel the contradiction? Both of my host parents are doctors. I go to a school with a medical program, and 50% of the students I see wear white scrubs every day. Many people in the U.S. fly down to México to have surgeries because it is cheaper. I have been to some REALLY nice doctors offices with my host family that seemed exactly like something you might find in the states. The doctors here are well trained and it is safe and modern. But there´s a whole group of people without good access to this.

My brain still can´t comprehend the spotless offices with high tech equipment and the eighty year old woman outside who has been waiting for 10 hours.

This may just be specific to that hospital, or this city, or this state. I don´t really know, so I am not going to make any sweeping comments about Mexico in general. But even if what I described is only reality for a small group of people: I think that´s still too many.

I´ll be thinking about this the next time I go to the doctor and need to wait. At least, I´ll be thinking about it untill I sit down in the padded chair, smile at the receptionist, and begin to catch up on celebrity gossip...

Mosquos, Lagartos, Hormigas... OH MY!

"Sorry there are a bunch of ants on my bed"

"Wait....I just lost the lizard on my ceiling"

"...and then we put RAID on our legs to avoid the mosquitoes...."

All this and more is about to be explained. These are just a few examples of the ambiguous phrases I have been using in my personal emails. I think it is time for me to give some more details about the "pest" situation here. I don`t want anything on this blog to seem negative...so if I start to get too cynical, just picture me with a big smile: "It`s not bad....just different" ...(face twitch)...

MOSQUOS

I have already stated that it is hot and humid here. Starting about 4 weeks ago, it also rains. Every. Day. What little animal are we familiar with that thrives on hot wetness? Bingo. The mosquitoes here are vicious! They are smaller than the ones in the U.S., they are almost impossible to see in the air. But when they BITE you can actually feel it...it hurts! The WI mosquitoes I`m familiar with don`t hurt when they bite, and they leave behind an itchy little bump. Tabasco mosquitoes sting when they bite, and leave behind a BIG bump with a red dot in the center. Also, I`m told that mosquitoes here carry dengue, so people are REALLY careful.

What does "careful" mean? Bug spray. LOTS. Deet? Awesome. Comes in an aerosol can? More powerful. Supposed to be sprayed around a yard? I guess we could do that as well as our legs. After Conserve, my friends back home would frequently hear me say things like: "Hey-Don`t spray that near me! I don`t want those chemicals on my body! Have I told you about Deet?..." And so it began. But here...I tend to scrinch my eyes up really tight and hope nothing gets in my mouth. After all, I have a whole lifetime to be self righteous about bug spray, and I REALLY don`t want dengue.

Lagartos

This is perhaps the most exotic sounding house pest I am experiencing. Little lizards darting around the house? Doesn´t it just sound like something out of the Jungle Book? Surprisingly....it still kind of feels like that to me too. I don´t really have anything bad to say about the lizards. They creep me out a little bit, but I don´t feel squirmy around them. I mean really: They have four legs (not scary), they are smaller than my hand (not scary), and they can´t cause you any physical harm unless you eat two of them in their entirety (It´s a little scary that they know this).

So, the lizards are just sort of THERE, hanging out in behind my dresser. And on my wall. And sometimes on my ceiling....Ok, now I´m starting to psych myself out....

Hormigas

This is the one that gets me. Ants. Lots of them. There are two main types of ants here. The ones that are half red/half black and HURT. And the ones that are brown and small and are just gross. I don´t like either of them. Something about ants has always bothered me. I would rather deal with spiders than ants. Ants are the organized crime of the insect world, I am pretty sure they will take over the planet eventually. Rational? No, but there you go.



During my first few weeks here, I thought: "WOW, it´s incredible that there are so many ants outside, but none in the house! Tralalalala...." Then one day, I noticed that that corner where the wall connects to the floor...was MOVING. I looked closer. Yes. There was a steady STREAM of ants crawling along, being sneaky. I began to check other rooms. I looked along dark colored cracks on the walls....ANTS. AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (<----that was my emotional breakdown)I was freaked out. They were on the table. On the wall. In my ROOM. How had I not noticed this? But I was definitely over reacting. House ants are pretty satisfied with their secretive lifestlye. They are not interested in climbing on me. Unless I am holding a bread product and sit for a VERY long time without moving (this has happened). So, I´ve become a little bit obsessive about wiping crumbs off of EVERYTHING I see. I may come home with a weird lap-wiping-tick. But really: I have now survived having ants: In my bed, on my plate, in my books, and on my HEAD, and I am still here to write about it. So they can´t be that bad, right? (Ok. Actually, they still suck. I´m sorry, I haven´t come to terms with this yet. No positive note to end this segment.) Other Animal Tidbits of Interest



-Racoons are adored here. They are the most popular zoo exhibit. At the fancy hotel I went to in Playa del Carmen, they proudly showed off their trained racoon. "Many people in the U.S. don´t like racoons????? But they are the most adorable animal of all!"

-I don´t think they have any animal rights laws. At all. At many supermarkets, you can find men selling puppies. Out of BOWLS. Yes- a big bowl full of puppies. At first this sound like the realization of every preschooler´s dream...but I get stuck thinking about the puppies on the bottom. Then I get that song from VeggieTales "Esther" stuck in my head (are you with me?). Then I think about the HUNDREDS of strays I´ve seen in this city. I am by no means an animal rights activist, but this just makes me want to.....Ok, I actually have no idea how to fix this problem. It keeps me thinking at least.

-Chihuauas. Are. Loud.

-I live for the moments when I come across big iguanas climbing trees. They remind me of dragons. Way cool.

This post was scattered. I will try to update with some pictures tomorrow. Because seriously, we all need to see the racoon exhibit in the zoo.

More or Less

There aren’t tourists here. My city is equidistant from Mexico City and Cancun, so before I got here I thought that there would be a lot of traffic between the two. But honestly, how many people do you know who plan road trips across Southern Mexico? Exactly. So my life is devoid of white people with cameras, and I don´t hear much English.

I spent last weekend in Playa del Carmen. (It was awesome: I need another post for it) While I was there, I felt overwhelmed by the number of tourists I saw. Southern Accents! Sun block! Books in English! Children with Blonde hair! But what was weird was….I didn´t feel like I belonged in that group. It´s hard to explain….I KNOW that I am American, and there are times when I feel homesick, but I really felt more at home in my group exchange students, or with my Mexican family.

There was one moment when I was waiting in line to buy a bandana, and the lady behind me started talking. She was offering to give me her family´s extra sun block, because they were leaving. I thanked her, but said that I have enough and she should save it for their next trip. She sort of frowned, and repeated herself. I got concerned: I was just trying to be polite! So I repeated myself again. The second time I caught the problem: Spanish. I had no trouble understanding her English, but my mouth has been reprogrammed! This time I answered in English. She was relieved. The moment passed.

It has been a long time since I have spoken aloud in English. I have skyped with my family once since I got here, and I didn´t have problems communicating with them, but day to day: I only speak Spanish. But I WRITE in English (letters, emails, blogs, whatnot), and I´d say most of the time I still think in English. What results from this combo: A really weird accent.

I have all of the English in my head. I know the grammar. I know the vocab. But my mouth does NOT know how to say it. I think it started when I first introduced myself as Elena ON-dare-sone from Wee-SCOH-seen. The “soft” vowel sounds don´t really exist in Spanish, and so it´s REALLY awkward to slip in nasally English words, like say, Wisconsin. So instead I´m just lazy and say all of my English words like they do. Sometimes I feel guilty for contributing to their accents, but not guilty enough to change. I may not ever look Mexican, but I will sound like one or die trying .

Anyway, back to the playa. I was at the pool talking to this college kid from Oregon at one point. We had been talking for a solid ½ hour when it came up that I was from Wisconsin. He thought I was kidding. “You don´t sound American”. Ok….so what DO I sound like? I guess right now, my English is a weird combination of European accents, as that´s pretty much what I´ve been hearing from my fellow exchangers. I am an auditory learner, which right now means that I am a copy cat.

By the end of the weekend, I think I was pretty much “Back to normal”. There was A LOT of English that went on….but now I´m back at school, I´m back at home, I´m back in Spanish. No more English for me.

As far as my Spanish is coming….I´m getting there. I am still frustrated a lot, because there are so many things I WANT to say, but can´t. I end up making a lot of blunt declarations that would have made me cringe with embarrassment two months ago. Elaine in Mexico is not witty or sarcastic. Sometimes, I will sit with my friends for 10 minutes, listening to their conversation about last weekend before I remember that is socially acceptable to CONTRIBUTE to discussion.

In school, I found out that I received 56% on my first Bio Exam. While in the U.S. this would have crushed me….I actually don´t feel too bad about it here: If one month= 56%....just think how I´ll be doing by the end of the year! In other news, I made a big accomplishment last week, when I contributed to discussion WITHOUT being asked a question directly. The class was learning in Law that: “In the U.S. they have the death penalty for all of the crimes. If you do anything serious, you get the lethal injection. There are more second chances here in Mexico…….” Sometime you just have to raise your hand and be an ambassador, right?

SO now when people ask me if I speak Spanish, I have moved myself past the “I speak one little bit” phase. I now say “More or Less”. This is a perfect answer. I will probably be using it for the next nine months, although I hope to be securely on the “More” side when I return stateside. My return trip feels like it is an eternity away. I´m sure I have plenty of time left to thoroughly confuse myself before next July.

Hey guys, it really works!

Well, it´s good to know that the Mexican Postal Phantom is reading my blog at least.

Taht´s right people. SIX LETTERS, ONE DAY. Thank you to my lovely correspondants:

Trena Wells Anderson
Emma Grace Anderson
Diana Wells
Elyssa Wells Anderson
Stephanie Groth
Christina Schempf
Ana Komar

You guys rock my socks. En Serio.

Lick it and Stick it

Every now and then, you meet a really good friend. Someone you connect with. If you are lucky, you may get to have this person as a suitemate for four months of boarding school. Very rarely, this person shares your love of snail mail and will faithfully write you letters all summer long. But how often do you meet someone who will, in your first month out of the country, send you a package with David Sedaris´ latest book- braving the customs shenanigans of international mail? People, I give you Cecilia Hinsley: Thanks Ceci! :)

Now, before all of you who aren´t....um.....Ceci, lose interest, this post DOES have two purposes. You see, I feel that Ceci´s package is an excellent opportunity to discuss MAIL. First I need to get you caught with my relationship with mail.

I LOVE letters. I have since I was a very little girl. Honestly, who doesnt? I always had one of those "Send-a-dollar-and-your-address" pen-pal programs going, and I was part of "Mailbox Club", which is like AWANA from a distance. About 3 years ago, I became a sponsor through Compassion Inernational, and right now I am writing to six children who live in developing countries. After leaving my home in the Northwoods, I started writing to my friends; our relationships were joltingly made long distance. I mailed a letter almost every day this summer. Yes, I go through stamps like a crazy person. But I´ve learned that in order to get letters, you must send letters. Some people draw or crochet napkins. I write.

Ok, now we´re caught up.

There is a mailbox here in Mexican house. I´m told that someone puts mail in it. I have never seen this person, as mail here does not come on a schedule. Rather, when "enough mail" has been collected by the fraccionamiento, there is supposedly a person who delivers said mail. I have no idea what constitues "enough". I am one day short of five weeks here. The mail has come twice.

I´m going to say that again, in case you missed it. The MAIL has come twice. Not "I have recieved mail twice". This myserious postal phantom has granted us two visits. I check the mailbox every day after school. Because those days when it DID come were awesome, but a lot of time, ít´s just dissapointing. From what I can tell, there´s no real rhyme or reason to what does and does not arrive. For example, the first letter my Grandma sent me seems to be lost forever, but Ceci was able to ship me a brand new hardcover book. Sometimes, I have a pretty chill "accidents happen" attitude. But on my more conspiracy-prone days, I am SURE my letters will show up in a government sponsored "Cartas en Ingles" book. But what can I do?

When I got Ceci´s package, it wasn´t delivered to the box, this was:

I then took this to the post office and received this:

I felt like this:

Ok. Enough of that....Mailing Letters:
When I want to actually SEND something, I have to go to the post office. The nearest one is a little over 20 minutes away, but my host family is gracious and drives me on Saturday mornings. At the post office, I talk with an official who always seems to be annoyed at me: "TWO letters....two INTERNATIONAL letters.....Two international letters with SECURITY?" But I really don´t care. The price of these two international letters with security varies drastically from week to week. One time, it was 54 pesos and I spent about 5 minutes glueing stamps to the back of the envelope. One time it was 25 pesos and scanned into the computer. One time, I paid, but didn´t see ANYTHING put onto my envelope. And I have said exactly the same thing every time. I guess it fluctuates based on the mood of the official. Anyway, I always receive one of these:

If you´ll notice, there are four different styles represented there. Only the purple one has arrived. Hmmmmm.

So, next time you are sitting with your friends discussing the economic crisis, or health problems, or education problems, or whatever issue seems to be the BIG one that day, make sure to keep a frame of mind. The U.S. might have a lot of problems right now, but there is at least one thing it has going for it. Because when you stick that little picture of a liberty bell in the corner of your envelope, you can be sure it will arrive. And that is something to be grateful for.