An Expat in the Making

The busy sounds of the street in my small town swarmed around me, entering my ears and my eyes. All of us characters in this scene were bathed in the orange-yellow glow of the streetlights. The cobbled road, at some times paved, other times patched, wove around me, toward and away from me all at the once. The swimmers of these avenues blazed by on their 100cc motorpeds, the cars barged through as if no one was there. Somehow they always managed to avoid each other. I saw it—a gasp there, an exhale there—the scene breathed like the entity it is. The late hour didn’t discourage the other figures from playing their roles in this scene, the sidewalks were well traveled and the streets busy. Shops were open—come in, come in!! It was late, and I was tired from a day of work, so after playing my role in the night, I left the stage and headed home.

But what is home? Cause it sure feels like this place and these people are becoming my new home. Is “home” just a place that shifts around, depending on our experiences? Is it that people that make the place special? Cause I know of a lot of special people in certain cities in the U.S., but there’s a lot of special people here in Zapotlanejo.

I guess you don’t feel like an outsider when you’re home. Or at least, as much. Or maybe you do feel like an outsider because you’re estranged from your ‘home.’ I don’t know. I still feel like an outsider here. The language barrier is the most noticeable aspect of this estrangement…but I really like living here, and with these people. Everyone should try it. Go somewhere new and different and fall in love with the place. Or at least with the local form of alcohol (cause let’s be honest, no matter where they are, humans the world over since time immemorial have discovered ways of creating the stuff).

I guess I was ready to go, ready to move, ready to be a part of the world in one of its small corners, in a small way that means something to me.

A friend recently asked me if I’ve gotten a different perspective on life yet since I’ve been out of SB. I guess you could say: yes, definitely. Santa Barbara can be a bubble (for those of you Santa Barbarians: I’m saying it can be, not that it has to be). And I felt as much while I was still there, but it doesn’t sink into the reality of your life until you leave. I’ve just been reminded how it’s a small town, and how there’s so much more going on out in the world; and while in Santa Barbara for an extended period of time, it’s easy to forget about that. Since being here in Mexico, and starting work at this school, I’ve been all the more reminded of what I’ve wanted to do for so long, and I feel this is the first (big) step in a series that will take me where I’m headed, wherever that is. You gotta jump off and dive-in sometime, and I feel as though I have finally done that. I have know idea where this will ultimately lead me, but I like where it’s going. I know that much. And I know it’ll be a windy road, unpredictable, adventurous, fun, perilous—but that is exactly why it must be taken. I’ve got no other choice. This is my one shot.

And, I’m beginning to get the feeling that it will probably be a long time before I return. Yes, OF COURSE I’ll visit and stuff, but I’m talking about moving back. I’ve got the feeling that I’ll come back for grad school. Yes—there, I said it. Grad school. I know I want to go now. But I need more time to figure out things first, and I think that can only happen while I’m “away.” Like I was trying to articulate above, living abroad is just something I’ve got to do right now.

I misspelled “pageant” in my last post. That irritates me.

I mentioned getting a job at a school…well I have and it’s been going really well. It’s a private language school, and the students I work with range from high-schoolers to working professionals in their 30s & 40s. Class sizes range from 2-7 people at most, so it’s a pretty intimate working environment with with the students. There is also a computer lab which supplements their learning with a surprisingly comprehensive language program. I’m starting off teaching conversational English classes, which are aimed at getting the more advanced students to practice the English they’ve learned, using everyday topics. I only teach a couple hours a day, but I spend my rest of the time at the school working on a manual for the teachers to use to teach the various grammar topics, which I will start teaching in about a week or two. It’s been a bit of a learning process for me, as I’ve had to brush up on and re-learn a lot about grammar and the English language. I really like working with the students, and I get along great with the other teachers. While there are other teachers from the U.S. there, I’m definitely the “whitest” one in the sense that I am the one most recently arrived from the States. As such, they’re in the process of coming up with a nickname for me.

I’ve got another entry in the works that I’ll probably post up before the week is finished. It’s about the family, fiestas calling out into the night (every night this month), and the super-ancient pre-Columbian culture site I visited. Until next time!

Learning to Fly (but I ain't got wings)

This coming Tuesday marks three weeks since my arrival! Time flies when you fly in an airplane to a country with lots of flies that fly by in the night in a land of flying time.

A few insightful observations I’ve made so far about Mexico:

-everyone my age is already married and has kids (or is WELL on their way)

-just about everyone speaks Spanish

-mosquitoes love nightly servings of O+ (my blood type)

-emergency blinkers are flashed instead of the brights

-the driver and passengers can be drinking beer in the car while driving without wearing seatbelts

-such drivers ignore flashing emergency blinkers

-your family will always be there. Always. Whether it’s your boisterous 3-year-old “niece” outside your door at 7:30am, or your aunt and cousins to make you a delicious dinner and then sit around convivially and chat for the next 3 hours, they’ll always be there.

-they eat a lot of Mexican food. It’s not just tamale Tuesdays here, or enchilada Mondays, but they actually eat this stuff daily. Three times a day. And it’s really good.

-things here generally aren’t made for people that are/are over six feet tall. One of these days I’m gonna lose an eye or wake up on the ground with a concussion.

-old ladies in line at the store taking their sweet time will be old ladies in line at the store taking their sweet time, whatever country you’re in. Count those pennies. Er, uh, pesos.

For Mexico’s birthday celebrations, everyone actually started fiesta-ing the night before, and counted down until midnight (12:01am of Sep. 16th) and kept the party going. I headed down to the plaza with my cousins and family to watch the festivities having to do with Mexico’s independence: a beauty pagent, and a medieval-genre folk band. The fireworks igniting the night sky was pretty awesome. Right before the final beauty (and last year’s winner) walked the stage, the clouds opened up and down-poured on us. Within less than A minute everyone and everything was soaking wet, and those wanting to keep the party going headed inside, while I stood under a centuries-old church’s awning with my family, trying to keep dry and thinking the rain might lift.

It didn’t.

So I proceeded to walk back to the house with my cousin to get the car, and got the most soaking wet I’ve ever been, and it couldn’t have been better. Soaked to the skin, in the pouring rain, on Mexico’s Independence Day (it was past midnight by now). Call me Ishma…uh…Mexican.

I had my first margarita(s) in Mexico…and man they were delicious. Holy crap it was like an addiction in a glass. And, they were free! It was the opening night of some bar/restaurant, and I went with my cousin, and he is friends with the owner, and so somehow through those connections I didn’t have to pay. I also had buffalo wings which I’m pretty sure permanently removed skin from my lips and tongue they were so spicy. Note to self: downing a margarita attempting to quench the fire in your mouth is not a strategy for (digestive) success.

So I know that these two entries have been largely “this is what I did, here is where I went,” etc., but I promise more reflective-type stuff in the future. It’s just that there’s so much that’s happened, and so little space I’m entitled before I bore you out. But maybe I should write like I don’t care about such things. Ooops, that sounded too close to a reflection. Time to sign off.