Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, but still extremely foreign to all noble readers, there lived a terrible, nasty, vile, bitter, mean, and evil queen. She called herself Queen Trasu, but the people called her Queen Trashrew. This made her so angry that she ordered every shrew in the kingdom killed, which made both the squirrels and the worms very, very happy.
No one quite remembered how the queen had come to be crowned queen, but everyone was fairly certain that her ascension to power was not committed fairly. A few scholars had attempted to trace Trasu's lineage to determine that she was the rightful queen, but when they rooted her family tree in a cottage that smelled of manure and unwashed clothes, she had them banished to the castle dungeons and all books of history burnt, which did not make either the squirrels or the worms particularly happy.
About thirty years after Trasu had killed all of the shrews because of the negative connotations that their names inspired in her people, she was stricken with a terrible cough. While trying to deliver her morning dictate (which always opened with "I am Queen Trasu, and you are my subjects!") from the top of the castle to the courtyard, she began to cough so loudly and uproariously that those listening started to laugh. "Off with their heads!" She attempted to shout imperiously, but instead only managed to emit a melodramatic wheeze/cough/choke. This caused the people to laugh even louder, so, after a vicious glare that none could see since she was too far away, she swirled and retreated into her castle.
In her room, where she was followed by five of her closest and most trusted attendants (which fluctuated weekly, subject to her flippant notions of trustworthiness and her need to demonstrate what happened to traitors [they were sent to the dungeons]), Trasu climbed the ornate wooden ladder at her bedside and fell both heavily and with flair from the top of it into her bed, which was taller than most of the houses in the kingdom.
From the floor, her attendants nervously exchanged glances as they listened to her cough, cough, and cough from the bed above. "What shall we do?!" One small, rotund man asked nervously. He had been an attendant for nearly three weeks and was certain that his future in the dungeons would come at any time. When he said this he hopped into the air and grabbed onto his silly brown hat with both sweaty hands.
"What we do," began a new attendant, a large, ornery woman who would have been well served by the existence of the word shrew, "is get a doctor." Her statement was so simple and matter-of-fact that the other four should have immediately scurried off and found a doctor, but, by the way she was poised like an overripe fruit just waiting to drop from the tree, the others (rightly) assumed that she had more to say.
"... a doctor," she continued from her previously punctuated sentence, "that will help us kill the queen!"
Her words were immediately followed by a cough from above, a squeak from below (from the rotund attendant), and a thud as the only other female attendant, a young, skinny blond, passed out on the floor. The remaining four attendants stared at one another, silently, and nodded. They then dragged the young girl to one of the queen's thirty-seven wardrobes and stuffed in her in it, where she remained unconscious until the day was over.
In a flurry of activity that proved these four had the right to be called attendants, they quickly rushed across the city and each collected a doctor whom they expected could perform the job. Two of the medical men were rough and scary, unkempt and unclean, and had earned their disreputable reputations in the slums by the river. They were summarily dismissed under the assumption that the queen, sick as she was, would never be dumb enough to let either close enough to poison her.
Of the two remaining doctors, one was wicked and evil, as evidenced by his greasy hair and one wooden tooth. He was, however, well-dressed and boasted an array of flashy equipment that would make any queen's eyes sparkle and heart flutter in momentary trust. The other doctor was soft spoken, quiet, and young, and had only a modest bag of medicines and antiquated tools. He often administered medical care to others for free, so of late he had been forced to support himself by scrubbing the queen's dungeons at nighttime, spending the mornings scraping the filth and bile from his arms and legs, barely having time to sleep before he continued on with a day of goodwill.
At this point in time, a reader may assume that this good doctor would never have it within his heart to kill another, no matter how terrible, nasty, vile, bitter, mean, and evil she was. However, this young doctor had once been married to a young girl of unparalleled beauty and potential. They had been happy together, and many of the young wife's days had been spent happily assisting her husband in his missions of medicinal charity. One day, the young woman discovered she was pregnant. The couple was very happy and picked out dozens of lovely names for the future child, but, unfortunately, this young couple had already used up all of their happiness in the world.
On her designated day to listen to the queen's daily dictate (every citizen of the nation had assigned days to listen to the queen; those in the city were required to attend three dictates a week, whereas those outside of the city only attended one every two weeks), the young woman was forced to stand three hours in the winter morning, waiting in the courtyard for the queen to appear (rumor had it that on this particular morning the queen disliked her breakfast and insisted on a new pig being found, killed, and cooked before continuing on with her address to the crowd). It began to rain, and, as is to be expected, the pregnant young wife caught a terrible cold. She made it home to her husband that day, but, despite his inimitable skills as a doctor, she died the next morning.
The young man was not seen for nearly a month, except when he left the house to bury his wife. He even refused to attend the queen's dictate on his assigned days, but the summoner was an old friend of the man's sister and managed to cover up the doctor's lack of attendance. Indeed, the young man had never been to another dictate again, even though his wife had died nearly three years ago. Everyone knew that he had a perfect right to hate the queen, and all assumed that he did (the fact that he cleaned her dungeons was ignored on the grounds that he secretly provided medicine to the hundreds of poor souls unfairly trapped in the castle's deep recesses).
The four attendants formed a tight line, and, arms crossed, surveyed the two potential heroes of the nation. They murmured back and forth, pointing first to one, then another, their quiet whispers just low enough for the queen, still coughing loudly, not to hear. Finally, as if with much trepidation, the large female attendant stepped forward and pointed at the greasy doctor. "You," she said, "will attend to her."
With a smile that would have made a cowslip shudder, the greasy doctor took his large bag of instruments and bottles and began the arduous climb up to the queen's bed. The four attendants grasped one another's hand and shuffled into a half-ring around the ladder's bottom, eyes growing wider and wider with each step the doctor took. Finally, he reached the apex and stepped out on the small gangplank that sat over the bed.
"Dear Sweet Almighty and Beautiful Queen of our Land," he said, with a barely-disguised sneer, "how may I attend you?"
The queen rolled over in her bed and looked up at the doctor from watery eyes. "I FEEL BADLY!" She shouted. The doctor nodded and made a motherly noise, slowly opening his bag and drawing a square bottle full of dark purple liquid out. "I know just the trick to ease your pain," he nodded, popping the cork off of the small bottle with a flourish.
Looking at the greasy man with no small measure of distaste, the queen coughed. "Get me some wine to mix it in," she commanded with a wave of her multi-ringed hand and rolled over again, facing away from the doctor. He grumbled under his breath and turned about on the walkway, shuffling carelessly back to the ladder.
As he stepped on the first rung, his foot slipped and he fell to the ground below, where he died. Oddly enough, he did not slip because his foot was greasy; it was merely bad foot placement.
The queen ignored the disturbance and one of the attendants rushed through the bedroom door and through a maze of corridors until he caught up with the young doctor who was gravely walking down an enormous flight of stairs. "Come back, please!" The attendant shouted, waving his hands wildly despite the fact that he was a mere four steps behind the doctor.
Without a word, the young doctor turned and led the way back to the queen's room. Again, wordlessly, he stepped over the greasy doctor's body and carefully climbed the ladder. At the top, he picked up the other man's bag, stuffed the bottle of poison in it (after putting the cork back in the bottle), and lightly tossed it over his shoulder to the floor below where its contents shattered.
The young doctor still had not said a word, and did not intend to begin now. He pulled a bottle out of his bag that was nearly empty, save for a few small drops of a pale orange syrup. He then pulled out another, which was missing only one small spoonful of its dark purple, watery liquid. He crawled out onto the wooden plank and sat, letting his legs dangle over the queen's prostrate body, which moved only when a cough dictated it. He picked up both bottles, one in each hand, and quietly observed each.
Finally, he took a bottle and opened it, cautiously pouring only the slightest amount onto a large wooden spoon he had produced from his bag. Recorking the chosen bottle and replacing both bottles within the bag, he readjusted himself so that he was kneeling upon the wooden plank and coughed ever so slightly. The queen, as if she had received an enormous disturbance, immediately rolled over and sat up, staring straight at the doctor.
"You look different," she said and stood up, snatching the spoon out of the young doctor's hand and licking it clean. "It also doesn't taste like wine," she said before collapsing back onto the bed. The doctor put the spoon back in his bag and slowly backed down the ladder, careful to place each foot on each rung and not to fall.
At the bottom of the ladder, the attendants eagerly crowded around him, whispering variations of the phrase "did you do it?" He waited a full four minutes before they finally silenced themselves, then, with a huge breath, made his announcement:
"No."
His words were immediately followed by a cough from above, a squeak from below (from the rotund attendant), and a thud as the young skinny blond female attendant rolled deeper in the wardrobe. Before allowing the attendants to speak, he continued. "I believe that kindness, not poison, is the best cure not only for this queen, but for this country." He smartly clicked his worn heels, spun around and marched out of the room.
"ATTEND ME!" The queen shouted from the bedtop, her cough fully gone already. The woman attendant, face pale and eyes sad, climbed the ladder, her mind full of resentment. At the top, she knelt on the wood and bowed her head at the queen.
"Who was that doctor?" Trasu asked, sitting up in the bed and arranging her many pillows behind her back. "I've never had anything that cured me so quickly."
The attendant trembled. Her queen had never appeared so positive ever before in all of her reign; kindness truly had cured her. "I do not know his name, dear queen, but he gave you naught but kindness!" The attendant was crying now, completely overcome with guilt for her attempted murder and simultaneous stupidity for not attempting the best cure of all.
Her crying was abruptly cut short as the queen slapped her across her face. "Shut your blubbering mouth, you whale," Trasu announced, then, with a vicious shove, pushed the attendant down the ladder where she fell on top of the greasy doctor and also died.
The other three attendants never again made any attempt at poisoning the queen, and all three were thrown in the dungeon within a week. A few days later, the young doctor caught a cold while cleaning the dungeons and died within two nights. The queen continued her reign of terror for a few months more until, one day, she found a body in her wardrobe and caught such a fright that it stopped her heart.
THE END
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Well, My Gift Works [FICTION: Short Story]
Once again I broke down the dam of self-control and let the flood of temptation wash my feeble resolve away. I watched her float in the violent waves, tossed back and forth, under and up again, like a broken body. The worst part about the entire affair was that I did not really need it, or even want it. I was merely tempted to see if it was still an option.
I remember that day well - it has been about five or six years, now - when I used it every day without even the hint of a hitch, then woke up one morning, only to discover that my gift was gone. I had never been so fearful before. I forgot to call the office (and received a stern written warning for it) and spent the entire morning running out of ink, snapping off pencil heads against unconcerned paper, desperately trying to make it work, trying to reforge a link with the world. Two days later, in an all-too-common fit of insomnia, sitting and calmly listening to Bach, the gift resumed. I have no explanation for it.
I don't even know what to call it; "gift" is the word that comes easiest to my lips, but I have called it a "curse" many times as well. I don't know how it works, and I probably never will. Could it be like one of those items that wears down with overuse, giving only a certain amount up before dying off forever? Could it be something that needs to be utilized from time to time in order for it to keep working (like a car battery, which can't be left for months and then be expected to run without problem)? I don't know. I have never understood it, and truly there is not a single person I could ask about who would be able to help me. Yes, people know about it, but no one knows it.
I have a list of those who know, written in careful calligraphy in a gorgeous, ornate book that I treasure dearly. I made an attempt to write the list myself, hoping that since I was rudimentary (at best) when it came to calligraphy, that my gift wouldn't notice the fact that my hand was moving, and would instead let me write. It noticed.
I threw away the $25 book, inscribed with a short paragraph of my former boss' paralytic thoughts, and bought an even more expensive book. I paid a little fee for an old friend of my mother's to fill out the book for me, which ended up working out even better than I had originally hoped, since her calligraphy was striking. Another benefit was that she accepted ludicrously simple excuses to explain why I wanted an expensive book filled out with just one name on each square page.
"It's people that I've promised could be in my wedding," I confided to her in a near-whisper, handing her the typed list of eleven names and settling onto her thick armchair that smelled of butterscotch and cat hair. She murmured joyful surprise at the word 'marriage' and discussed marriageable girls who used to babysit her children for the next half hour while she carefully copied my list of names.
I am often burdened by the lack of knowledge about my gift. Does it still work, nearly a year after I have neglected to use it?
It is in times of doubt such as this when I consult "the book," as I have come to call it. I use the tiny painted key that oftentimes sits lonely in the bottom of a handmade pottery vase that serves as a bookend on my living room bookshelf to unlock the drawer on my metal desk in the office. That drawer contains a few things of import that I rarely need at a moment's notice: a few contracts, such as my loan papers; the checkbook from my savings account; a beaded handbag from Mexico, which holds secret treasures of its own. I used to keep my cigarettes in this drawer, but once I became a bona fide "smoker," I had to move them to a kitchen drawer instead. One of the items in the handbag, snugly resting between thin pieces of foil, is another key.
After locking the drawer and returning the painted key to its pottery home, I take the second to my master bathroom. Under the sink, buried beneath a jumbled plateau of mellow-colored towels, is a small safe. It's reminiscent of hotel room safes with its easy finger-pushing combination, but it's rather smaller and nearly unnoticeable without intense probing. This safe houses the more important items to my life: my passport and my will are two examples. Also in this safe is the final key, carefully wrapped in crumpled, powder blue tissue paper. That paper has another story of its own; perhaps I shall tell it at some point.
This final key also has a story of its own: the second month after I had lived in this house, I paid a relatively decent sum for a man - not a crew, just a man - to install a safe in my closet. It was once a huge walk-in closet, and, indeed, I can easily walk in it still, but he managed to take up a good two or three feet installing the safe and sliding wall. Behind my dusty, rarely used suit coats I insert the key into a small lock at the top right corner of the left wall. This causes the entire wall to unlatch and slide on a groove down to the floor. As may well be guessed, this sliding wall would be easily visible to the casual observer. My dear hire constructed a thick shelf that he braced against the real walls, so that it covers the distinction between the original back wall and the fake one. Instead of being built directly into the wall, it hangs back just enough so that the fake wall panel slides easily to the ground without catching. The gap between the shelf and the wall used to annoy me, so I moved my belts from the shelf to another and corrected the problem; shoes fall between cracks far less commonly than belts do.
Behind the panel is a real safe. It cost me a tiny fortune, but, at the time, I had such available to spend. I refused to get a digital lock, however; this lock requires minute turns and intense concentration to open, which my mind prefers but which my sweaty fingers hate. On the very bottom of the safe is a manila envelope, its clasp long broken. On top of it rests the desired book, never dusty. Piled above are dozens of spiral-bound notebooks, some filled, some empty. Thrown haphazardly within is a bank bag from my old bank in California. Inside of the bag is an assortment of pens, pencils and markers: every writing utensil in the house.
I take every last item to my bed, quietly, almost reverently. First, I always open the manila envelope and slide the birth certificate out. Its corners are crumpled, and it is stained with grief. It does not make me cry anymore; the fact that it does not make me cry often makes me weep instead. Sometimes I flip through the notebooks that are written in; oftentimes I ignore them.
The book is well used. Its spine is worn and cracked, the corners of the pages crumpled and creased over. On each large, square page is written only one name in the old woman's artistic scroll; only nine pages are written upon.
My normal method is to take a click pen in my left hand, feeling the once-familiar grip of the small lover. It never takes long to get back in the habit of absentmindedly clicking it in and out, over and over. I take the book, either on my lap, or lay it on the bed in front of me, and slowly, painstakingly turn each page, letting my right hand carefully trace each and every ornate letter. There is no real reason to read the book, since I have easily memorized the names ages ago. I suppose it is comforting. Everyone in the book knows of my gift, and know it to be true; no one in the book knows enough to help me.
Last night I sat on my bed, cross-legged, the book open in my lap, a blue ink pen in my left hand. I came to the last name, carefully traced it with my index finger, and turned the page. Blankness. Except for the beautiful borders of flowers and Greek columns, the page was empty. I was suddenly struck with how helpless I was in this. There was no one who could help me - no one.
I dashed from the bed and ran down the hallway to the office. Evan sat in my ripped leather chair, fully awake and eyeballing my actions with judicious suspicion. Even in my quick flash of weakness - or strength, as one could see it - I had decided that the notebooks from my safe would not be profaned with such an act. Instead, I snatched a few blank white pages from my printer and slammed them onto my metal work desk.
"Who, who, who?" I said aloud, scouring my brain for the exact right person. My forehead was already covered with a thin layer of sweat, my fingers already trembling with some sick combination of anticipation and dread. With a sudden shock of inspiration I dropped the pen and paper and ran headlong to the kitchen - hilariously enough, in times such as these I find walking completely inadequate; indeed, on one late-night sojourn into the world of my gift I came around the corner of the hallway into my living room too fast, directly into an end table that deposited a glass vase on the hardwood floor and into a million pieces. I did not use my gift that night, though I did use my broom.
In the kitchen my refrigerator sat alone, humming quietly to herself. I invaded her, wrenching open the door with unbridled passion. Among the containers of leftover food that I would never eat, small bottles of expensive juice, and cans of light beer was a bottle of orange soda. I did not drink the stuff, but my nephew loved it and he is going to spend this weekend with me, so I bought it in anticipation of his visit. However, it was an object that I could use to remind myself of who I wanted to write about, so I took it from the refrigerator and jogged it back to the office.
Evan had left the chair, and the room, presumably because he knew I would want it to myself. I rolled the chair up to the desk as I sat in it, arranged my papers on the desk, took the pen in my right hand, and lightly brushed the side of the soda bottle with my left. "I am scared," I thought aloud, and, putting pen to paper, attempted to write it. I wonder if I should go ahead and buy them now appeared on the paper in my own neat script. I shook, though with joy or with horror, I could never tell you.
I wrote for three hours straight. She was moody, and the writing was intense. I had no idea how much I missed doing it, writing someone else's thoughts, how I loved the sensation of having not only a window, but also an open door to their mind. It was one of the best writing sessions I have ever had; it was almost orgasmic. I did not stop for even a moment, though I had needed to pee before I even started reading "the book." Finally, fortunately, the pen ran out of ink. I slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. This may seem melodramatic, or even humorous, but it's true. Writing can be draining.
I became suddenly aware of an awful pain in my hand. My fingers clenched together involuntarily, and a cautious test revealed they did not desire to depart from one another. I let them stay. As if on cue (as he always is), Evan padded quietly into the room. He hopped lithely into the chair, causing it to spin a half-circle. Before curling up, he peered over the armrest at me. "I'm so sorry," I said to him, truly full of regret. He stared at me, his eyes completely and utterly ambivalent, then turned and sat. I passed out.
I woke up nearly six hours later, before sunrise. It felt like the morning after a night spent reuniting with an ex - I cannot find the proper adjective to describe it, but I trust you can pick up on the negative connotation. I silently cleaned up the office, then my room, returning everything to its proper place, safeguarding keys in the exact spots I had found them the night before. As I cleaned, my mind ran a marathon against itself, two angry competitors in a race neither would ever win.
I took a cigarette from my stash in the kitchen and walked out on the back patio. The concrete was cold on my feet, but it did not matter. My neighbor, Russ, was already awake, as his kitchen light indicated. Because he works early on weekdays now, he and I have shifted our daily jogging sessions to only Saturday mornings. My exercise regimen has suffered because of it, but I suspect he still keeps his up to par during the week.
With the light of his kitchen, I awkwardly lit a match, then my cigarette. I smoked it in silence, the cold morning mercilessly beating my bare chest and ears while I tried to hide my poor feet in the long pajama pants I wore. Finally, the cigarette was done. I bent down and burnt it out on the concrete, the wet dew helping extinguish the flame almost as well as the cigarette had helped put out the regret in my mind. Instead of dropping the cigarette butt in my big empty water pot that sits beside the back door, as I normally would, I took it and, with a short run, threw it deep into the woods that were just beginning to come alive with the colors of the dawn. I turned to walk in, then stopped and turned around. The empty pen sat alone in my pocket, destined for the trash later that day. I took it out from my pocket and stared at it a moment, letting it quietly roll on my palm.
With another run, I launched the pen into the woods. At its apex I saw it, helplessly falling, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the cold grey dawn. I walked back inside and shut the door.
I remember that day well - it has been about five or six years, now - when I used it every day without even the hint of a hitch, then woke up one morning, only to discover that my gift was gone. I had never been so fearful before. I forgot to call the office (and received a stern written warning for it) and spent the entire morning running out of ink, snapping off pencil heads against unconcerned paper, desperately trying to make it work, trying to reforge a link with the world. Two days later, in an all-too-common fit of insomnia, sitting and calmly listening to Bach, the gift resumed. I have no explanation for it.
I don't even know what to call it; "gift" is the word that comes easiest to my lips, but I have called it a "curse" many times as well. I don't know how it works, and I probably never will. Could it be like one of those items that wears down with overuse, giving only a certain amount up before dying off forever? Could it be something that needs to be utilized from time to time in order for it to keep working (like a car battery, which can't be left for months and then be expected to run without problem)? I don't know. I have never understood it, and truly there is not a single person I could ask about who would be able to help me. Yes, people know about it, but no one knows it.
I have a list of those who know, written in careful calligraphy in a gorgeous, ornate book that I treasure dearly. I made an attempt to write the list myself, hoping that since I was rudimentary (at best) when it came to calligraphy, that my gift wouldn't notice the fact that my hand was moving, and would instead let me write. It noticed.
I threw away the $25 book, inscribed with a short paragraph of my former boss' paralytic thoughts, and bought an even more expensive book. I paid a little fee for an old friend of my mother's to fill out the book for me, which ended up working out even better than I had originally hoped, since her calligraphy was striking. Another benefit was that she accepted ludicrously simple excuses to explain why I wanted an expensive book filled out with just one name on each square page.
"It's people that I've promised could be in my wedding," I confided to her in a near-whisper, handing her the typed list of eleven names and settling onto her thick armchair that smelled of butterscotch and cat hair. She murmured joyful surprise at the word 'marriage' and discussed marriageable girls who used to babysit her children for the next half hour while she carefully copied my list of names.
I am often burdened by the lack of knowledge about my gift. Does it still work, nearly a year after I have neglected to use it?
It is in times of doubt such as this when I consult "the book," as I have come to call it. I use the tiny painted key that oftentimes sits lonely in the bottom of a handmade pottery vase that serves as a bookend on my living room bookshelf to unlock the drawer on my metal desk in the office. That drawer contains a few things of import that I rarely need at a moment's notice: a few contracts, such as my loan papers; the checkbook from my savings account; a beaded handbag from Mexico, which holds secret treasures of its own. I used to keep my cigarettes in this drawer, but once I became a bona fide "smoker," I had to move them to a kitchen drawer instead. One of the items in the handbag, snugly resting between thin pieces of foil, is another key.
After locking the drawer and returning the painted key to its pottery home, I take the second to my master bathroom. Under the sink, buried beneath a jumbled plateau of mellow-colored towels, is a small safe. It's reminiscent of hotel room safes with its easy finger-pushing combination, but it's rather smaller and nearly unnoticeable without intense probing. This safe houses the more important items to my life: my passport and my will are two examples. Also in this safe is the final key, carefully wrapped in crumpled, powder blue tissue paper. That paper has another story of its own; perhaps I shall tell it at some point.
This final key also has a story of its own: the second month after I had lived in this house, I paid a relatively decent sum for a man - not a crew, just a man - to install a safe in my closet. It was once a huge walk-in closet, and, indeed, I can easily walk in it still, but he managed to take up a good two or three feet installing the safe and sliding wall. Behind my dusty, rarely used suit coats I insert the key into a small lock at the top right corner of the left wall. This causes the entire wall to unlatch and slide on a groove down to the floor. As may well be guessed, this sliding wall would be easily visible to the casual observer. My dear hire constructed a thick shelf that he braced against the real walls, so that it covers the distinction between the original back wall and the fake one. Instead of being built directly into the wall, it hangs back just enough so that the fake wall panel slides easily to the ground without catching. The gap between the shelf and the wall used to annoy me, so I moved my belts from the shelf to another and corrected the problem; shoes fall between cracks far less commonly than belts do.
Behind the panel is a real safe. It cost me a tiny fortune, but, at the time, I had such available to spend. I refused to get a digital lock, however; this lock requires minute turns and intense concentration to open, which my mind prefers but which my sweaty fingers hate. On the very bottom of the safe is a manila envelope, its clasp long broken. On top of it rests the desired book, never dusty. Piled above are dozens of spiral-bound notebooks, some filled, some empty. Thrown haphazardly within is a bank bag from my old bank in California. Inside of the bag is an assortment of pens, pencils and markers: every writing utensil in the house.
I take every last item to my bed, quietly, almost reverently. First, I always open the manila envelope and slide the birth certificate out. Its corners are crumpled, and it is stained with grief. It does not make me cry anymore; the fact that it does not make me cry often makes me weep instead. Sometimes I flip through the notebooks that are written in; oftentimes I ignore them.
The book is well used. Its spine is worn and cracked, the corners of the pages crumpled and creased over. On each large, square page is written only one name in the old woman's artistic scroll; only nine pages are written upon.
My normal method is to take a click pen in my left hand, feeling the once-familiar grip of the small lover. It never takes long to get back in the habit of absentmindedly clicking it in and out, over and over. I take the book, either on my lap, or lay it on the bed in front of me, and slowly, painstakingly turn each page, letting my right hand carefully trace each and every ornate letter. There is no real reason to read the book, since I have easily memorized the names ages ago. I suppose it is comforting. Everyone in the book knows of my gift, and know it to be true; no one in the book knows enough to help me.
Last night I sat on my bed, cross-legged, the book open in my lap, a blue ink pen in my left hand. I came to the last name, carefully traced it with my index finger, and turned the page. Blankness. Except for the beautiful borders of flowers and Greek columns, the page was empty. I was suddenly struck with how helpless I was in this. There was no one who could help me - no one.
I dashed from the bed and ran down the hallway to the office. Evan sat in my ripped leather chair, fully awake and eyeballing my actions with judicious suspicion. Even in my quick flash of weakness - or strength, as one could see it - I had decided that the notebooks from my safe would not be profaned with such an act. Instead, I snatched a few blank white pages from my printer and slammed them onto my metal work desk.
"Who, who, who?" I said aloud, scouring my brain for the exact right person. My forehead was already covered with a thin layer of sweat, my fingers already trembling with some sick combination of anticipation and dread. With a sudden shock of inspiration I dropped the pen and paper and ran headlong to the kitchen - hilariously enough, in times such as these I find walking completely inadequate; indeed, on one late-night sojourn into the world of my gift I came around the corner of the hallway into my living room too fast, directly into an end table that deposited a glass vase on the hardwood floor and into a million pieces. I did not use my gift that night, though I did use my broom.
In the kitchen my refrigerator sat alone, humming quietly to herself. I invaded her, wrenching open the door with unbridled passion. Among the containers of leftover food that I would never eat, small bottles of expensive juice, and cans of light beer was a bottle of orange soda. I did not drink the stuff, but my nephew loved it and he is going to spend this weekend with me, so I bought it in anticipation of his visit. However, it was an object that I could use to remind myself of who I wanted to write about, so I took it from the refrigerator and jogged it back to the office.
Evan had left the chair, and the room, presumably because he knew I would want it to myself. I rolled the chair up to the desk as I sat in it, arranged my papers on the desk, took the pen in my right hand, and lightly brushed the side of the soda bottle with my left. "I am scared," I thought aloud, and, putting pen to paper, attempted to write it. I wonder if I should go ahead and buy them now appeared on the paper in my own neat script. I shook, though with joy or with horror, I could never tell you.
I wrote for three hours straight. She was moody, and the writing was intense. I had no idea how much I missed doing it, writing someone else's thoughts, how I loved the sensation of having not only a window, but also an open door to their mind. It was one of the best writing sessions I have ever had; it was almost orgasmic. I did not stop for even a moment, though I had needed to pee before I even started reading "the book." Finally, fortunately, the pen ran out of ink. I slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. This may seem melodramatic, or even humorous, but it's true. Writing can be draining.
I became suddenly aware of an awful pain in my hand. My fingers clenched together involuntarily, and a cautious test revealed they did not desire to depart from one another. I let them stay. As if on cue (as he always is), Evan padded quietly into the room. He hopped lithely into the chair, causing it to spin a half-circle. Before curling up, he peered over the armrest at me. "I'm so sorry," I said to him, truly full of regret. He stared at me, his eyes completely and utterly ambivalent, then turned and sat. I passed out.
I woke up nearly six hours later, before sunrise. It felt like the morning after a night spent reuniting with an ex - I cannot find the proper adjective to describe it, but I trust you can pick up on the negative connotation. I silently cleaned up the office, then my room, returning everything to its proper place, safeguarding keys in the exact spots I had found them the night before. As I cleaned, my mind ran a marathon against itself, two angry competitors in a race neither would ever win.
I took a cigarette from my stash in the kitchen and walked out on the back patio. The concrete was cold on my feet, but it did not matter. My neighbor, Russ, was already awake, as his kitchen light indicated. Because he works early on weekdays now, he and I have shifted our daily jogging sessions to only Saturday mornings. My exercise regimen has suffered because of it, but I suspect he still keeps his up to par during the week.
With the light of his kitchen, I awkwardly lit a match, then my cigarette. I smoked it in silence, the cold morning mercilessly beating my bare chest and ears while I tried to hide my poor feet in the long pajama pants I wore. Finally, the cigarette was done. I bent down and burnt it out on the concrete, the wet dew helping extinguish the flame almost as well as the cigarette had helped put out the regret in my mind. Instead of dropping the cigarette butt in my big empty water pot that sits beside the back door, as I normally would, I took it and, with a short run, threw it deep into the woods that were just beginning to come alive with the colors of the dawn. I turned to walk in, then stopped and turned around. The empty pen sat alone in my pocket, destined for the trash later that day. I took it out from my pocket and stared at it a moment, letting it quietly roll on my palm.
With another run, I launched the pen into the woods. At its apex I saw it, helplessly falling, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the cold grey dawn. I walked back inside and shut the door.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Acacacacacacacacacacacapulco!!!!
Well, the girls and I left Cuernavaca LATE on Friday night, because we weren't allowed to go to the beach while the CSU program was in place, but the program ended at midnight, so we piled into a late-night bus and showed up in Acapulco in the middle of Friday night (technically Saturday morning). It was the worst bus ride ever - in addition to being four hours long, Mexican nights are notoriously hot and apparently our bus didn't have air, because we were literally SWEATING the entire ride. I had a Snickers bar in the pocket of my jacket - not packed away in a bag or anything - and it literally MELTED during the bus ride. I have photographic evidence of what the heat of that bus did to chocolate, so imagine it on my skin!
We hung out a bit that night in the hotel room, which was a sixteenth-floor presidential suite. It had three bedrooms (each with their own porch overlooking either the ocean or the grandiose pool), a kitchen, dining room and living room. It was paradise. That night we also went to a club where I enjoyed my first beach foam party - they sprayed soap into a 20x20 feet (or so) area of beach that was about chest-high, and we just wrestled and ran through it. It was a ton of fun, but our clothes took awhile to clean and my phone is a little upset at me still.
That night we had some extra visitors in addition to the seven who rented the room (which was Kayla, Anna, Vickie, Tiffany, Joel, Jordan and I, by the way): Mayia (?), Katie, Angel, Mark, Kealan, Gail and Amy all visited our huge room and went out with us as well. We had a nice big group and I think we all enjoyed each other's company.
The next morning we hit up the beach around 10:00am or 11:00am, and didn't go back until 7:00pm (and I was one of the early ones to leave!). The hotel had an enormous pool and then a smaller one that were lavish and felt wonderful, but we spent most of our time on the beach. Tiffany and I went out early and walked past most of the vendors to a wide part of the beach, but we didn't realize that the vendors weren't there because it was so rough! The waves were easily as tall as me most of the time, and they would go about thirty or fourty feet up the beach. It was great.
Once everyone else arrived we commandeered some chairs from the hotel and generally lazed around for hours. We tanned and played in the surf, which was violent, dangerous and fun, and Vickie and I took some hikes on the rocks in front of the hotel. I'm glad we did, because you could get a great view of the bay from up in the rocks, and it was great fun to pick our way through them. We saw big, three/four feet long black iguanas (one ran out about five feet in front of me and TERRIFIED me) and we also got a coconut down from a tree (with the help of a local) and busted it open on a rock and drank some agua de coca. It felt like Survivor!
Unfortunately, I got pretty horrifically burnt. I got some sort of sun poisoning fever that night and spent a good twelve hours in bed, complemented by a thousand or two milligrams of Tylenol. I'm slightly glad that I did, though, because the others took a boat ride into the bay in order to drink (election day was Sunday and it was illegal to serve alcohol on land after midnight) and said that it was really rough and not fun. Most of them crashed into the hotel room fairly early, and we all slept in until 11:00am or so. The hotel allowed us not to check out until 5:00pm, so we spent a good long while at the pool the next day. One of the pools was heavily shaded so I was able to swim, but for the most part I wore a hoodie and avoided the sun.
We went to buy tickets for our 8:40am bus ride around 7:00pm, and alas and alack, only one ticket was left! Felix, Joel, Kayla, Anna, Vickie and I were forced to buy tickets to Cuernavaca at 2:30am, but since we had time to kill we were able to go see Public Enemies and eat at APPLEBEE'S. It was nice to just walk around the city and relax.
We made it to our houses at 7:05am this morning (after taxi rides and the four+ hour bus ride), so I had time to say hello to my family, unpack, take a shower and head to school. I was hyper enough to last through conversacion, but by the time español rolled around I was tired and my sunburn was really starting to hurt. Though my shoulders are slightly irritated, the worst part is my legs, because it's very painful to walk because I have to bend my ankles and knees (something I never realized). When I came to the computer lab this evening it took me almost fifteen minutes to simply get out of bed, because of the pain. I do think it was worth the trip, though. :)
Another great piece of news is that Erica moved in with me today! Since Victoria left I was going to be the only estudiante in the house and my parents definitely wanted more, and Erica had a bad weekend alone at her house after Erin left, so it worked out perfectly. She's a lot of fun to have around and my family seems to enjoy her already.
This week is RELAXATION week. The CSU program officially ended on Friday and Dr. Cook leaves Wednesday (which does make me sad), so we have no scheduled excursions - no scheduled anything, in reality! I'm sure that we'll go to all the soccer games, and tomorrow we're supposed to go out for Kreniya's birthday, so we'll find plenty to do, but we don't HAVE TO do anything, which is so nice. I come home in exactly 14 days!!!
We hung out a bit that night in the hotel room, which was a sixteenth-floor presidential suite. It had three bedrooms (each with their own porch overlooking either the ocean or the grandiose pool), a kitchen, dining room and living room. It was paradise. That night we also went to a club where I enjoyed my first beach foam party - they sprayed soap into a 20x20 feet (or so) area of beach that was about chest-high, and we just wrestled and ran through it. It was a ton of fun, but our clothes took awhile to clean and my phone is a little upset at me still.
That night we had some extra visitors in addition to the seven who rented the room (which was Kayla, Anna, Vickie, Tiffany, Joel, Jordan and I, by the way): Mayia (?), Katie, Angel, Mark, Kealan, Gail and Amy all visited our huge room and went out with us as well. We had a nice big group and I think we all enjoyed each other's company.
The next morning we hit up the beach around 10:00am or 11:00am, and didn't go back until 7:00pm (and I was one of the early ones to leave!). The hotel had an enormous pool and then a smaller one that were lavish and felt wonderful, but we spent most of our time on the beach. Tiffany and I went out early and walked past most of the vendors to a wide part of the beach, but we didn't realize that the vendors weren't there because it was so rough! The waves were easily as tall as me most of the time, and they would go about thirty or fourty feet up the beach. It was great.
Once everyone else arrived we commandeered some chairs from the hotel and generally lazed around for hours. We tanned and played in the surf, which was violent, dangerous and fun, and Vickie and I took some hikes on the rocks in front of the hotel. I'm glad we did, because you could get a great view of the bay from up in the rocks, and it was great fun to pick our way through them. We saw big, three/four feet long black iguanas (one ran out about five feet in front of me and TERRIFIED me) and we also got a coconut down from a tree (with the help of a local) and busted it open on a rock and drank some agua de coca. It felt like Survivor!
Unfortunately, I got pretty horrifically burnt. I got some sort of sun poisoning fever that night and spent a good twelve hours in bed, complemented by a thousand or two milligrams of Tylenol. I'm slightly glad that I did, though, because the others took a boat ride into the bay in order to drink (election day was Sunday and it was illegal to serve alcohol on land after midnight) and said that it was really rough and not fun. Most of them crashed into the hotel room fairly early, and we all slept in until 11:00am or so. The hotel allowed us not to check out until 5:00pm, so we spent a good long while at the pool the next day. One of the pools was heavily shaded so I was able to swim, but for the most part I wore a hoodie and avoided the sun.
We went to buy tickets for our 8:40am bus ride around 7:00pm, and alas and alack, only one ticket was left! Felix, Joel, Kayla, Anna, Vickie and I were forced to buy tickets to Cuernavaca at 2:30am, but since we had time to kill we were able to go see Public Enemies and eat at APPLEBEE'S. It was nice to just walk around the city and relax.
We made it to our houses at 7:05am this morning (after taxi rides and the four+ hour bus ride), so I had time to say hello to my family, unpack, take a shower and head to school. I was hyper enough to last through conversacion, but by the time español rolled around I was tired and my sunburn was really starting to hurt. Though my shoulders are slightly irritated, the worst part is my legs, because it's very painful to walk because I have to bend my ankles and knees (something I never realized). When I came to the computer lab this evening it took me almost fifteen minutes to simply get out of bed, because of the pain. I do think it was worth the trip, though. :)
Another great piece of news is that Erica moved in with me today! Since Victoria left I was going to be the only estudiante in the house and my parents definitely wanted more, and Erica had a bad weekend alone at her house after Erin left, so it worked out perfectly. She's a lot of fun to have around and my family seems to enjoy her already.
This week is RELAXATION week. The CSU program officially ended on Friday and Dr. Cook leaves Wednesday (which does make me sad), so we have no scheduled excursions - no scheduled anything, in reality! I'm sure that we'll go to all the soccer games, and tomorrow we're supposed to go out for Kreniya's birthday, so we'll find plenty to do, but we don't HAVE TO do anything, which is so nice. I come home in exactly 14 days!!!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tengo Mucho a Decir
It feels as though it's been forever since I last blogged, and I suppose it has - over a week! I'm firmly settling into the groove of life as a foreign student in Mexico and time to use the Internet for periods longer than ten minutes doesn't really fit into that picture. I wonder if I'll return to using it often when I come back to the States or if I'll simply retain my way of life here. I know what I am hoping for.
Last week was pretty action-packed, if I recall correctly. Classes were really good for the week and I had a blast with them. I'm definitely enjoying conversacion (three hours of casual roundtable discussion of any and everything) and am having my head expanded with the material from my three hours of español. My schedule this week has also been great, especially conversacion with three of my favorite directors, including a full hour alone with Gabriel, who is teaching me all of the idiomatic expressions and slang that I won't learn in Los Estados Unidos.
We had a good evening last Wednesday, going out for cream cheese sushi (don't ask) and going to see Transformers. We went to the VIP theater, which has enormous comfortable recliners with buttons to push to call the waiters. It felt wonderful until our waitress spilt an Icee on my flip-flopped feet and left me without servilletas, but I survived! The movie was aight.
Thursday we went to luche libre wrestling, which was pretty horrendous. We did get to see a midget wrestle, though, and I'm glad that we did the entire cultural experience. Afterwards, we visited Carlos and Charlie's, our Thursday haunt, which was rather interesting. That is all I have to say about it.
I arrived thirty minutes late for the bus to Oaxca on Friday (me, thirty minutes late!) and had a pretty rough eight-hour drive. We stopped in Cholula to visit cathedrals and some ruins, but at this point in time Anna and I have agreed that we are pyramid'd out. They do seem to blur together after you've seen eight or ten, but I'm sure I'll appreciate it in the future.
Our hotel in Oaxca was great. Tim and I were assigned a room with one king-size bed even though Dr. Cook and Alberto had requested all of us to have our own bed, so we were reassigned into a luxury suite with a little living room area and a porch. We definitely lucked out!
Saturday we visited another set of pyramids! There was a huge group of highschool students there who treated us as though we were rock stars. I took pictures with about twenty girls that day. :) Afterwards we visited a site where they make black pottery. I've always loved pottery, so this especially interested me. The type of clay turns out gray after it is baked, but they have a method of rubbing a crystal rock on it to bring out a glossy shine. It looks as though it's been painted black, but in reality it is completely natural. The most advanced tool they use is a tiny knife - even the pottery wheel is two clay bowls rotated by hand. It's truly amazing what people can do without technology.
Afterwards we visited a famous woodcarver's home. The carvings are amazing - they were intensely colorful and bizarre and often represented odd cultural stories and thoughts I would have never recognized. That night Mike and I hung out in the girls' room and watched Spanish television, put on a fashion show, and did facials. It was great fun.
Sunday we visited a gigantic tree, one of the largest (by diameter) in the world and definitely the biggest and oldest in Mexico. We also visited a set of pyramids (surprise!) and got a step-by-step lesson on how to create mezcal, an alcoholic drink native to Oaxca that is intensely pure and does more to you than get you drunk. Afterwards we visited a market of sorts that is only open on Sundays for the locals, where we purchased a delicious chicken. The trip home was, again, very rough but Mike and I attempted to make it fun.
Monday was fairly uneventful, though Vickie got a new roommate named Tiffany. She's great fun and seems to fit in well with the group, so we definitely lucked out in getting her. We all practiced soccer Monday afternoon (along with some other guys and girls from Cuernavaca and Los Estados Unidos) where I shined like the star I am. I refuse to play with the mezcla team here though, because I get way too aggressive and competitive.
Yesterday after school we had salsa classes, which I am definitely getting the hang of, and got to spend a little time with Roy, the salsa instructor, who is great fun. Roy, the four girls and I went to the futbol game and watched the boys play before the girls' game. First of all, the girls won again last week, so they're 2-0 despite being a team made up of primarily girls who don't play (they beat the team who won the championship last year by two points, if I'm not mistaken). The game yesterday was AMAZING.
I get really into the games, and Haley sat beside me and definitely helped amp up the mood. The girls did incredible. The game started off rough because the other team (who was in the play-offs last year) complained to the referee that two of the three Mexican girls on our team are too good, so they shouldn't be allowed on the field at the same time, and the referee agreed to it! The other team scored three points in a row to start with, but our girls turned the game around and ended it 12 to 5! Tiffany scored two or three points of her own, Erica scored once, and my other CSU girls did some great assists. Erin definitely had the best goal though, when she casually kicked it from our side of the field while the other goalie wasn't paying attention and scored from about 3/4ths of the way down the field! All in all, a great game.
We went to our regular bar for a celebratory drink afterwards, then Tiffany, Vickie and I returned home to shower and went to Los Arcos for salsa night. Tiffany and I salsa'd with the best of them, and Vickie and I managed not to spend a dime the entire night. We all went to Dubai after Los Arcos to help celebrate Katie´s (a girl who arrived this week and is one of Jordan's roommates) 20th birthday. We had a big group and a ton of fun.
Today was the last day that we taught the kids at La Estacion. We had a cake and drinks for them and really enjoyed it. The boy who I taught the previous two weeks (though I helped a different one today) asked for my e-mail address, so hopefully I will be able to keep in touch with him. Teaching at the school definitely was one of the best experiences here.
Tonight some of our people are going bowling, but I think I'm skipping out to stay home and study for my test tomorrow. Friday night we're going to Acapulco and spending the weekend (and the 4th of July!) tanning on the beach. It should be fun, though it may rain on Sunday.
Only two and a half weeks left! 19 days ahead, 25 behind, I am on the downward slope. See you all soon.
Last week was pretty action-packed, if I recall correctly. Classes were really good for the week and I had a blast with them. I'm definitely enjoying conversacion (three hours of casual roundtable discussion of any and everything) and am having my head expanded with the material from my three hours of español. My schedule this week has also been great, especially conversacion with three of my favorite directors, including a full hour alone with Gabriel, who is teaching me all of the idiomatic expressions and slang that I won't learn in Los Estados Unidos.
We had a good evening last Wednesday, going out for cream cheese sushi (don't ask) and going to see Transformers. We went to the VIP theater, which has enormous comfortable recliners with buttons to push to call the waiters. It felt wonderful until our waitress spilt an Icee on my flip-flopped feet and left me without servilletas, but I survived! The movie was aight.
Thursday we went to luche libre wrestling, which was pretty horrendous. We did get to see a midget wrestle, though, and I'm glad that we did the entire cultural experience. Afterwards, we visited Carlos and Charlie's, our Thursday haunt, which was rather interesting. That is all I have to say about it.
I arrived thirty minutes late for the bus to Oaxca on Friday (me, thirty minutes late!) and had a pretty rough eight-hour drive. We stopped in Cholula to visit cathedrals and some ruins, but at this point in time Anna and I have agreed that we are pyramid'd out. They do seem to blur together after you've seen eight or ten, but I'm sure I'll appreciate it in the future.
Our hotel in Oaxca was great. Tim and I were assigned a room with one king-size bed even though Dr. Cook and Alberto had requested all of us to have our own bed, so we were reassigned into a luxury suite with a little living room area and a porch. We definitely lucked out!
Saturday we visited another set of pyramids! There was a huge group of highschool students there who treated us as though we were rock stars. I took pictures with about twenty girls that day. :) Afterwards we visited a site where they make black pottery. I've always loved pottery, so this especially interested me. The type of clay turns out gray after it is baked, but they have a method of rubbing a crystal rock on it to bring out a glossy shine. It looks as though it's been painted black, but in reality it is completely natural. The most advanced tool they use is a tiny knife - even the pottery wheel is two clay bowls rotated by hand. It's truly amazing what people can do without technology.
Afterwards we visited a famous woodcarver's home. The carvings are amazing - they were intensely colorful and bizarre and often represented odd cultural stories and thoughts I would have never recognized. That night Mike and I hung out in the girls' room and watched Spanish television, put on a fashion show, and did facials. It was great fun.
Sunday we visited a gigantic tree, one of the largest (by diameter) in the world and definitely the biggest and oldest in Mexico. We also visited a set of pyramids (surprise!) and got a step-by-step lesson on how to create mezcal, an alcoholic drink native to Oaxca that is intensely pure and does more to you than get you drunk. Afterwards we visited a market of sorts that is only open on Sundays for the locals, where we purchased a delicious chicken. The trip home was, again, very rough but Mike and I attempted to make it fun.
Monday was fairly uneventful, though Vickie got a new roommate named Tiffany. She's great fun and seems to fit in well with the group, so we definitely lucked out in getting her. We all practiced soccer Monday afternoon (along with some other guys and girls from Cuernavaca and Los Estados Unidos) where I shined like the star I am. I refuse to play with the mezcla team here though, because I get way too aggressive and competitive.
Yesterday after school we had salsa classes, which I am definitely getting the hang of, and got to spend a little time with Roy, the salsa instructor, who is great fun. Roy, the four girls and I went to the futbol game and watched the boys play before the girls' game. First of all, the girls won again last week, so they're 2-0 despite being a team made up of primarily girls who don't play (they beat the team who won the championship last year by two points, if I'm not mistaken). The game yesterday was AMAZING.
I get really into the games, and Haley sat beside me and definitely helped amp up the mood. The girls did incredible. The game started off rough because the other team (who was in the play-offs last year) complained to the referee that two of the three Mexican girls on our team are too good, so they shouldn't be allowed on the field at the same time, and the referee agreed to it! The other team scored three points in a row to start with, but our girls turned the game around and ended it 12 to 5! Tiffany scored two or three points of her own, Erica scored once, and my other CSU girls did some great assists. Erin definitely had the best goal though, when she casually kicked it from our side of the field while the other goalie wasn't paying attention and scored from about 3/4ths of the way down the field! All in all, a great game.
We went to our regular bar for a celebratory drink afterwards, then Tiffany, Vickie and I returned home to shower and went to Los Arcos for salsa night. Tiffany and I salsa'd with the best of them, and Vickie and I managed not to spend a dime the entire night. We all went to Dubai after Los Arcos to help celebrate Katie´s (a girl who arrived this week and is one of Jordan's roommates) 20th birthday. We had a big group and a ton of fun.
Today was the last day that we taught the kids at La Estacion. We had a cake and drinks for them and really enjoyed it. The boy who I taught the previous two weeks (though I helped a different one today) asked for my e-mail address, so hopefully I will be able to keep in touch with him. Teaching at the school definitely was one of the best experiences here.
Tonight some of our people are going bowling, but I think I'm skipping out to stay home and study for my test tomorrow. Friday night we're going to Acapulco and spending the weekend (and the 4th of July!) tanning on the beach. It should be fun, though it may rain on Sunday.
Only two and a half weeks left! 19 days ahead, 25 behind, I am on the downward slope. See you all soon.
Monday, June 22, 2009
El Fin De Semana
Monday in Mexico is so much better than Monday in Los Estados Unidos. :) The weekend was good, if not a bit tiring, and I think the week ahead will go well also. My classes were great today - I have Anita as one of my three conversation teachers for the third week in a row (which slightly makes up for the absence of Marilyn in this week´s schedule), got Ivonne back, and got a new guy who seems pretty chill and also knows Spanish and English very well. I also still have the same grammar class with Gabriella, Bridgette and Terri, so it should be a good solid week of learning and fun. We already started on condicional and futuro today, so I think I´ll learn a lot this week.
So, on Friday we went to Krishna, a club that Joel recommended. It was extremely classy and upper-crust, and we had a total blast. It´s a great asset being an American, because not only were we given a free pitcher of some sort of drink, we also were the stars of the dance floor. After a few hours there we went to Gula Gula to see a friend who worked there, and stayed there for a few more hours. Again, the stars of the show!
On Saturday we had an excursion to Taxco. Jonathan was allowed to tag along, and he definitely added some more fun to our group. He´s from Bob Jones University and reminds me SO MUCH of Jonathan (the brother-in-law) version. I had two hours of conversacion with him each day last week and get him for two hours again this week, so I´m pleased with that. He´s pretty fun.
Taxco was pretty interesting. It´s significant because it´s one of the main sites where the infamous Mexican ball game was played, and it´s also the site of a silver mine so there´s plenty of "plata" for sale in the city. After an hour or two of browsing, Jonathan, Vickie and I decided to climb the city and go to the statue of El Cristo, positioned on an overlook of the city.
The streets in the city are extremely narrow, many times offering only enough room for one old Volkswagen (which is the taxi of choice in Taxco) to pass through. The streets wind back and forth up the mountain to the statue, so Jonathan had the good idea of cutting through the side streets and going straight up to the overlook. I´m glad we did, because we got to see the non-tourist side of the city and looked at how people live. The climb was surprisingly difficult and the steps up the side of the mountain were ridiculously steep.
Once we got near the top a group of three little girls (around ages 4 - 7) found us going the wrong way and led us to the statue, on a shortcut through the woods. Jonathan gave them some pesos to buy snacks - they were completely adorable, friendly, and curious and loved asking us questions, giving us a chance to practice our Spanish.
The view was spectacular. You could see all of the city and the surrounding countryside, and we had the good fortune of BEAUTIFUL weather. I can´t believe that most people stay in the city shopping instead of visiting the statue - we were the only three out of the fifteen people in our group to make the climb! We did get some good pictures, but unfortunately they can´t convey the majesty of the view. It was such an inspirational and calming sight.
That night we (Anna, Kayla, Vickie, Jonathan, Felix, Jordan, his new roommate and I) went bowling! They had a three-hour special from 10pm - 1am, but since we arrived early we had about an hour to kill. We partied in the arcade (I even got a video of Felix and Kayla "playing" a dance game) and walked down to Wal-Mart to get some desserts - their bakery is incredibly cheap. Gotta love it.
Bowling was a ton of fun. The alley played excellent music with a good mix of Spanish and American, we saw some people from the school and got to chat with them for a bit, and the workers brought us bizarre colored cardboard eye masks and headdresses to wear. NO IDEA why, but we rocked them, of course.
Sunday morning we got up bright and early and headed to Teotihuacan. Erica and Erin were too late and missed the bus [ :( ] and Tiffany, Heather and Haley opted out, so we had a tiny little group of nine, including Dr. Cook and Alberto. The city was constructed by the Teotihuacans around 600AD or so, but by the time the Aztecs discovered the city, all of the original inhabitants had disappeared, leaving only an empty city. It was amazing to see how advanced the people were: they planned the entire city based on astrology, laying it out in a specific, mathematical pattern, and perfected a water system so that there were SHOWERS inside of the homes. I wonder if we could do anything nearly as well if we were stripped of our technology.
The pyramids were fairly immense and very impressive. Vickie, Tim and I took a good long break on top of the Temple of the Moon, where Vickie and I got pretty sunburnt (fingers are crossed that it turns into a good tan). We got to browse the stores for a good while as well, though it seems as though every vendedore sold the exact same items. It´s odd the way Mexico works, sometimes.
The girls and I had a hankering for steak that night, so Anna asked Dr. Cook where we should find some and Alberto recommended an Argentinian steakhouse. The three girls and I went there (Felix, Mike and Jules met us there later) and I am SO GLAD that we did. It was the best meal I´ve ever had, bar none. It was an extremely formal yet welcoming atmosphere, with a serving crew that met our every need. We had a pitcher of delicious sangria to go with our meal - I ordered a filet mignon with the house mignon sauce (full of mushrooms and onions!) and the girls ordered steaks, mashed potatoes and sauteed vegetables. Every single item we had that night was ridiculously amazing and incomparable to other food. The meat almost melted in your mouth it was so tender. Spectacular.
We also ordered strawberry cheescake and a flan for dessert. As Kayla said, "the Cheesecake Factory has nothing on this." The desserts were simply unbelievable and wholly indescribable. We even had coffee with dessert, which was good (which is a huge compliment, coming from me, a certified coffee hater). The boys showed up once we were well into our meal and ordered their own repast, so we had to try a little bit of theirs, despite our stomachs being filled to overflowing.
It has been raining this afternoon so it´s nice and cool. Hopefully tomorrow won´t be too hot either, as the girls are playing soccer in the afternoon. We have salsa, soccer and Transformers 2 at midnight tomorrow, so we´ll be fairly busy. We´ll be teaching at the kids´ school again on Wednesday, then salsa/soccer on Thursday and we head out to Oaxca for a three-day weekend starting on Friday. This weekend should be a little bit more relaxed than the last, so I´m definitely looking forward to it. Less than a month until I come home, though. :(
So, on Friday we went to Krishna, a club that Joel recommended. It was extremely classy and upper-crust, and we had a total blast. It´s a great asset being an American, because not only were we given a free pitcher of some sort of drink, we also were the stars of the dance floor. After a few hours there we went to Gula Gula to see a friend who worked there, and stayed there for a few more hours. Again, the stars of the show!
On Saturday we had an excursion to Taxco. Jonathan was allowed to tag along, and he definitely added some more fun to our group. He´s from Bob Jones University and reminds me SO MUCH of Jonathan (the brother-in-law) version. I had two hours of conversacion with him each day last week and get him for two hours again this week, so I´m pleased with that. He´s pretty fun.
Taxco was pretty interesting. It´s significant because it´s one of the main sites where the infamous Mexican ball game was played, and it´s also the site of a silver mine so there´s plenty of "plata" for sale in the city. After an hour or two of browsing, Jonathan, Vickie and I decided to climb the city and go to the statue of El Cristo, positioned on an overlook of the city.
The streets in the city are extremely narrow, many times offering only enough room for one old Volkswagen (which is the taxi of choice in Taxco) to pass through. The streets wind back and forth up the mountain to the statue, so Jonathan had the good idea of cutting through the side streets and going straight up to the overlook. I´m glad we did, because we got to see the non-tourist side of the city and looked at how people live. The climb was surprisingly difficult and the steps up the side of the mountain were ridiculously steep.
Once we got near the top a group of three little girls (around ages 4 - 7) found us going the wrong way and led us to the statue, on a shortcut through the woods. Jonathan gave them some pesos to buy snacks - they were completely adorable, friendly, and curious and loved asking us questions, giving us a chance to practice our Spanish.
The view was spectacular. You could see all of the city and the surrounding countryside, and we had the good fortune of BEAUTIFUL weather. I can´t believe that most people stay in the city shopping instead of visiting the statue - we were the only three out of the fifteen people in our group to make the climb! We did get some good pictures, but unfortunately they can´t convey the majesty of the view. It was such an inspirational and calming sight.
That night we (Anna, Kayla, Vickie, Jonathan, Felix, Jordan, his new roommate and I) went bowling! They had a three-hour special from 10pm - 1am, but since we arrived early we had about an hour to kill. We partied in the arcade (I even got a video of Felix and Kayla "playing" a dance game) and walked down to Wal-Mart to get some desserts - their bakery is incredibly cheap. Gotta love it.
Bowling was a ton of fun. The alley played excellent music with a good mix of Spanish and American, we saw some people from the school and got to chat with them for a bit, and the workers brought us bizarre colored cardboard eye masks and headdresses to wear. NO IDEA why, but we rocked them, of course.
Sunday morning we got up bright and early and headed to Teotihuacan. Erica and Erin were too late and missed the bus [ :( ] and Tiffany, Heather and Haley opted out, so we had a tiny little group of nine, including Dr. Cook and Alberto. The city was constructed by the Teotihuacans around 600AD or so, but by the time the Aztecs discovered the city, all of the original inhabitants had disappeared, leaving only an empty city. It was amazing to see how advanced the people were: they planned the entire city based on astrology, laying it out in a specific, mathematical pattern, and perfected a water system so that there were SHOWERS inside of the homes. I wonder if we could do anything nearly as well if we were stripped of our technology.
The pyramids were fairly immense and very impressive. Vickie, Tim and I took a good long break on top of the Temple of the Moon, where Vickie and I got pretty sunburnt (fingers are crossed that it turns into a good tan). We got to browse the stores for a good while as well, though it seems as though every vendedore sold the exact same items. It´s odd the way Mexico works, sometimes.
The girls and I had a hankering for steak that night, so Anna asked Dr. Cook where we should find some and Alberto recommended an Argentinian steakhouse. The three girls and I went there (Felix, Mike and Jules met us there later) and I am SO GLAD that we did. It was the best meal I´ve ever had, bar none. It was an extremely formal yet welcoming atmosphere, with a serving crew that met our every need. We had a pitcher of delicious sangria to go with our meal - I ordered a filet mignon with the house mignon sauce (full of mushrooms and onions!) and the girls ordered steaks, mashed potatoes and sauteed vegetables. Every single item we had that night was ridiculously amazing and incomparable to other food. The meat almost melted in your mouth it was so tender. Spectacular.
We also ordered strawberry cheescake and a flan for dessert. As Kayla said, "the Cheesecake Factory has nothing on this." The desserts were simply unbelievable and wholly indescribable. We even had coffee with dessert, which was good (which is a huge compliment, coming from me, a certified coffee hater). The boys showed up once we were well into our meal and ordered their own repast, so we had to try a little bit of theirs, despite our stomachs being filled to overflowing.
It has been raining this afternoon so it´s nice and cool. Hopefully tomorrow won´t be too hot either, as the girls are playing soccer in the afternoon. We have salsa, soccer and Transformers 2 at midnight tomorrow, so we´ll be fairly busy. We´ll be teaching at the kids´ school again on Wednesday, then salsa/soccer on Thursday and we head out to Oaxca for a three-day weekend starting on Friday. This weekend should be a little bit more relaxed than the last, so I´m definitely looking forward to it. Less than a month until I come home, though. :(
Friday, June 19, 2009
Segunda Semana en Mexico. Segunda!
It´s already been TWO weeks since I´ve been here in Mexico. It seems forever to me, but I hate the fact that I´m already a third of the way finished here. I really do wish I could just stay here and finish up my Bachelor´s, use public transportation, see dozens of people I know whenever I go out at night, walk to school instead of hopping in the car, take free salsa classes regularly, etc, etc. Ah, if only...
Tuesday we visited a temascal, which is an ancient Aztec form of rehabilitation and recuperation that they often practiced when warriors returned from war. We all wore underwear or bathing suits and packed into (thirteen of us in all) a sauna, of sorts. It looked like an old adobe hut from the outside; the inside was a circular dome, probably about seven feet across each way, with hot rocks on the wall opposite from the door. Herb water was poured on the stones to heat the room, and we stayed and sweated out our infirmities, supposedly.
It was ridiculously hot in there - I´m sure we all lost many pounds from sweating. Mike, Jules and I also opted for a "thrashing" once the others had left, which involved getting lightly whipped with some type of special herb. Whenever you left (you could leave and go back in) you were supposed to wrap in a blanket (so that you continued to sweat) and drink some purple tea.
It was a supremely odd experience, but it was pretty incredible. We also got full body massages, which were AMAZING. It was less than $30 per person for the sauna and the massage, which I was impressed with. A few of us are thinking about doing it again. :)
The week at school was fairly uneventful. We taught the kids again on Wednesday, but Ana and I worked together this time and got two eleven-year old boys who knew a TON of English and were hard-heads about learning more. Quite a taxing experience.
I got my classes switched around so that I don´t have to learn the past perfect subjunctive right now, and I´m really enjoying my new classes. My conversacion classes are great, with a good mixture of great students and helpful teachers, and I absolutely adore my grammar teacher. She really knows how to make us understand, even though she hardly speaks any English.
We went out a few nights this week and we´re beginning to befriend the locals. I think it´s because of Kayla, Ana and Vickie, but wherever we go there is bound to be a group of seven or eight chicos along with us. I´ve really been practicing Spanish at the clubs, and my ability to communicate has been greatly improving, even if my grammatical skills and vocabulary still need a lot of work.
Yesterday afternoon we went to salsa class. I adore "Roy," the instructor - he´s hilarious and knows his stuff. It´s fairly difficult to do well, but I enjoy going. I danced with a good handful of girls since they far outnumber the boys and I think I´m starting to get the steps down. I have about four weeks left to catch on!
Also yesterday the girls and I went to a soccer game of people from the school. They had a game for guys and one for girls, with full teams of both sides comprised of professors, staff and students. I got so into the girls´game, mainly because Erica, Erin and Victoria (my housemate) were all playing. Kayla, Ana, Vickie and I cheered them on so loudly (my voice is partially shot today) it had to be the reason they won!
Erica was the complete star of the show. She is kind of a diva and no one really expected her to play, but she went out on the field and did her thing. She´d never played soccer before but went for it and was the crowd favorite. Even the other team cheered for her! It was great when they stuck her in the goal for the last quarter and she only let one ball past her. She was so hilarious and I have a great video of her that I´ll upload once these computers let me.
We were going to go to the club last night with everyone from school, but between studying, cansado and other problemas, we decided not to. Kayla and I sat on the sidewalk and talked for about two hours, which was great - we´re so alike it´s nearly frightening. We got hungry and called a cab so we could go get hot dogs at the zocalo. They remembered us from two nights ago, when Miguel showed us the stand, and even asked where Ana was. :) The people here truly are friendly and very open to helping us learn.
Tonight we´re all going out, tomorrow we´ll hit up Taxco, and tomorrow night we´re going bowling! Sunday we´re going on another excursion, and then a week of school will start again on Monday.
I´m doing absolutely wonderful and love almost every minute of it. ´tis a pity I have to return, no?
Tuesday we visited a temascal, which is an ancient Aztec form of rehabilitation and recuperation that they often practiced when warriors returned from war. We all wore underwear or bathing suits and packed into (thirteen of us in all) a sauna, of sorts. It looked like an old adobe hut from the outside; the inside was a circular dome, probably about seven feet across each way, with hot rocks on the wall opposite from the door. Herb water was poured on the stones to heat the room, and we stayed and sweated out our infirmities, supposedly.
It was ridiculously hot in there - I´m sure we all lost many pounds from sweating. Mike, Jules and I also opted for a "thrashing" once the others had left, which involved getting lightly whipped with some type of special herb. Whenever you left (you could leave and go back in) you were supposed to wrap in a blanket (so that you continued to sweat) and drink some purple tea.
It was a supremely odd experience, but it was pretty incredible. We also got full body massages, which were AMAZING. It was less than $30 per person for the sauna and the massage, which I was impressed with. A few of us are thinking about doing it again. :)
The week at school was fairly uneventful. We taught the kids again on Wednesday, but Ana and I worked together this time and got two eleven-year old boys who knew a TON of English and were hard-heads about learning more. Quite a taxing experience.
I got my classes switched around so that I don´t have to learn the past perfect subjunctive right now, and I´m really enjoying my new classes. My conversacion classes are great, with a good mixture of great students and helpful teachers, and I absolutely adore my grammar teacher. She really knows how to make us understand, even though she hardly speaks any English.
We went out a few nights this week and we´re beginning to befriend the locals. I think it´s because of Kayla, Ana and Vickie, but wherever we go there is bound to be a group of seven or eight chicos along with us. I´ve really been practicing Spanish at the clubs, and my ability to communicate has been greatly improving, even if my grammatical skills and vocabulary still need a lot of work.
Yesterday afternoon we went to salsa class. I adore "Roy," the instructor - he´s hilarious and knows his stuff. It´s fairly difficult to do well, but I enjoy going. I danced with a good handful of girls since they far outnumber the boys and I think I´m starting to get the steps down. I have about four weeks left to catch on!
Also yesterday the girls and I went to a soccer game of people from the school. They had a game for guys and one for girls, with full teams of both sides comprised of professors, staff and students. I got so into the girls´game, mainly because Erica, Erin and Victoria (my housemate) were all playing. Kayla, Ana, Vickie and I cheered them on so loudly (my voice is partially shot today) it had to be the reason they won!
Erica was the complete star of the show. She is kind of a diva and no one really expected her to play, but she went out on the field and did her thing. She´d never played soccer before but went for it and was the crowd favorite. Even the other team cheered for her! It was great when they stuck her in the goal for the last quarter and she only let one ball past her. She was so hilarious and I have a great video of her that I´ll upload once these computers let me.
We were going to go to the club last night with everyone from school, but between studying, cansado and other problemas, we decided not to. Kayla and I sat on the sidewalk and talked for about two hours, which was great - we´re so alike it´s nearly frightening. We got hungry and called a cab so we could go get hot dogs at the zocalo. They remembered us from two nights ago, when Miguel showed us the stand, and even asked where Ana was. :) The people here truly are friendly and very open to helping us learn.
Tonight we´re all going out, tomorrow we´ll hit up Taxco, and tomorrow night we´re going bowling! Sunday we´re going on another excursion, and then a week of school will start again on Monday.
I´m doing absolutely wonderful and love almost every minute of it. ´tis a pity I have to return, no?
Monday, June 15, 2009
El Fin de Semana Numero DOS
I´m terribly sorry that it took so long to post my Wednesday blog, but we didn´t have Internet access so much in Mexico City, so I´ve been pretty stranded. 40 new e-mails, and only about five from Mom, though!
Thursday after school Vicky, Ana, Kayla and I went back to the Robert Brady museum for a screening of Hitchcock´s Psycho (in the original language [English] with Spanish subtitles). I think it may have been the first air-conditioned room I´d been in since I´ve been in Mexico, and it was lovely. Afterwards we ate pizza, went to Dubai, Los Arcos and Carlos and Charlie´s and made many unparalleled memories late into the night before finally turning it.
We left around 8:00am on Friday morning for Mexico City. Kayla and I lucked out and got to sit beside one another on the hour and a half bus ride, so instead of sleeping we talked forever and ever, of course - the two of us are quite a formidable duo. Once we arrived in Mexico City we metro-hopped to our hotel where we left our bags, then headed out to the National Palace.
Diego Rivera´s murals are pretty epic, I won´t lie. The palace is not so amazing, but getting to see the murals depicting Mexico´s history in real life was awe-inspiring. Pictures can´t really capture the grandeur and intricacy of the mural, so seeing it with my own eyes was a great experience.
After the palace we walked over to the Temple Mayor (though that may not be spelled correctly) which is an unearthing of part of one of the original temples built "under" Mexico City. The city is hundreds of years old and is sinking into the lake it´s built upon, so generation after generation would just build right on top of the old foundations. The temple was pretty interesting to look at, but the enormous museum inside was insane. It had artifacts discovered in the ruins and helped paint a picture of what life was like in the ancient days of Mexico City.
By this time we were already worn out, but we still had more to do! We walked over to the Cathedral which is pretty much indescribable. Even pictures cannot convey the enormity and majesty of the cathedral, which included real relics of a saint and an organ bigger than most churches in the United States. We ate down the street afterwards and split up to do some market shopping before heading back to the hotel.
Vendedores are actually not allowed to sell anything on a plaza near the cathedral, but what kind of salesperson would turn down good money?? The vendedores had a system wherein they kept their wares on a blanket that could be easily folded in when the police came. More than once we saw a policeman from afar coming and a few dozen vendedores wrap up their cosas and dash into a nearby building. It was hilarious but frightening when Kayla and I first saw it and thought something bad was about to happen!
Our hotel was pretty old looking, I won´t lie. It was supposedly four stars, which is laughable, but we had a great time there, especially since our group made up a good percentage of the current customer base and we had connected rooms that we could have fiestas chaffas inside.
On Saturday we visited the Dolores Olmedo museo, where I got to touch a peacock and see the hairless dogs that were native to Mexico. The museum had tons of great stuff to see, but pictures were not allowed and the staff was demonic - they seriously had alarms that would beep if you got too close to anything. Seriously.
We also visited la casa de Frida Kahlo and the nearby market for a few hours. We got some great food at a restaurant and Mike and I spent almost an hour of quality time trying to find him some sunglasses. That day also involved riding the tiny buses (which were long, cramped rides) and the streetcars (which took FOREVER), neither of which compared to the metro!
The metro is the main form of transportation within the city. One-use tickets cost two pesos, which is about $0.18USD, and with that one ticket you can ride all five lines at once, so long as you don´t exit the metro station. We always rode linea uno from our hotel and connected to linea dos to get to wherever we were going, and I got the system down pat. It was easy to follow because there were charts of the tracks all inside the metro cars. The hard part was getting in and out in the ten seconds or so that the doors allowed people to get both in and out of the cars. We only got to ride rush hour once, which was absolutely INSANE, but Vickie and I both loved it. The rush of the crowd and the snappy pace with which we had to switch cars and pay attention was great.
On Sunday (after a fun night of hanging in the girls´room) we visited the Palacio de Bellos Artes and the National Anthropological Musuem. The anthro musuem really tied everything we´d seen together, tracing the history of people in Mexico and giving definitive dates and descriptions to what was once just "Aztecs" or "Mayans." The Palacio didn´t have a ton to look at but was pretty gorgeous. We also got to eat at Sanborn´s, a famous restaurant right by the palacio, which was great. The floors of the restaurant and the steps have a noticeable slope to them, something that was hard to get used to.
Last night after arriving back in Cuernavaca, Vicky, Kayla and I jogged to the Superama and bought some phone cards. I talked to Sissy and Jonathan for awhile (had to wish the red-head a happy birthday) in the rain after dark, but I was equipped with Kayla´s pepper spray and Mike jogged by a few times to check on me.
Today we got our schedule for the next few weeks - tomorrow we´re going to a strange place called Temascal which has hot saunas to cleanse the spirit and accompanying massages. I´m immensely excited!
All in all the trip has been wonderful and I´m truly enjoying the company. I don´t get a lot of things about this country, and some of it has not been great, but I´m loving it and living every second of it that I can.
Thursday after school Vicky, Ana, Kayla and I went back to the Robert Brady museum for a screening of Hitchcock´s Psycho (in the original language [English] with Spanish subtitles). I think it may have been the first air-conditioned room I´d been in since I´ve been in Mexico, and it was lovely. Afterwards we ate pizza, went to Dubai, Los Arcos and Carlos and Charlie´s and made many unparalleled memories late into the night before finally turning it.
We left around 8:00am on Friday morning for Mexico City. Kayla and I lucked out and got to sit beside one another on the hour and a half bus ride, so instead of sleeping we talked forever and ever, of course - the two of us are quite a formidable duo. Once we arrived in Mexico City we metro-hopped to our hotel where we left our bags, then headed out to the National Palace.
Diego Rivera´s murals are pretty epic, I won´t lie. The palace is not so amazing, but getting to see the murals depicting Mexico´s history in real life was awe-inspiring. Pictures can´t really capture the grandeur and intricacy of the mural, so seeing it with my own eyes was a great experience.
After the palace we walked over to the Temple Mayor (though that may not be spelled correctly) which is an unearthing of part of one of the original temples built "under" Mexico City. The city is hundreds of years old and is sinking into the lake it´s built upon, so generation after generation would just build right on top of the old foundations. The temple was pretty interesting to look at, but the enormous museum inside was insane. It had artifacts discovered in the ruins and helped paint a picture of what life was like in the ancient days of Mexico City.
By this time we were already worn out, but we still had more to do! We walked over to the Cathedral which is pretty much indescribable. Even pictures cannot convey the enormity and majesty of the cathedral, which included real relics of a saint and an organ bigger than most churches in the United States. We ate down the street afterwards and split up to do some market shopping before heading back to the hotel.
Vendedores are actually not allowed to sell anything on a plaza near the cathedral, but what kind of salesperson would turn down good money?? The vendedores had a system wherein they kept their wares on a blanket that could be easily folded in when the police came. More than once we saw a policeman from afar coming and a few dozen vendedores wrap up their cosas and dash into a nearby building. It was hilarious but frightening when Kayla and I first saw it and thought something bad was about to happen!
Our hotel was pretty old looking, I won´t lie. It was supposedly four stars, which is laughable, but we had a great time there, especially since our group made up a good percentage of the current customer base and we had connected rooms that we could have fiestas chaffas inside.
On Saturday we visited the Dolores Olmedo museo, where I got to touch a peacock and see the hairless dogs that were native to Mexico. The museum had tons of great stuff to see, but pictures were not allowed and the staff was demonic - they seriously had alarms that would beep if you got too close to anything. Seriously.
We also visited la casa de Frida Kahlo and the nearby market for a few hours. We got some great food at a restaurant and Mike and I spent almost an hour of quality time trying to find him some sunglasses. That day also involved riding the tiny buses (which were long, cramped rides) and the streetcars (which took FOREVER), neither of which compared to the metro!
The metro is the main form of transportation within the city. One-use tickets cost two pesos, which is about $0.18USD, and with that one ticket you can ride all five lines at once, so long as you don´t exit the metro station. We always rode linea uno from our hotel and connected to linea dos to get to wherever we were going, and I got the system down pat. It was easy to follow because there were charts of the tracks all inside the metro cars. The hard part was getting in and out in the ten seconds or so that the doors allowed people to get both in and out of the cars. We only got to ride rush hour once, which was absolutely INSANE, but Vickie and I both loved it. The rush of the crowd and the snappy pace with which we had to switch cars and pay attention was great.
On Sunday (after a fun night of hanging in the girls´room) we visited the Palacio de Bellos Artes and the National Anthropological Musuem. The anthro musuem really tied everything we´d seen together, tracing the history of people in Mexico and giving definitive dates and descriptions to what was once just "Aztecs" or "Mayans." The Palacio didn´t have a ton to look at but was pretty gorgeous. We also got to eat at Sanborn´s, a famous restaurant right by the palacio, which was great. The floors of the restaurant and the steps have a noticeable slope to them, something that was hard to get used to.
Last night after arriving back in Cuernavaca, Vicky, Kayla and I jogged to the Superama and bought some phone cards. I talked to Sissy and Jonathan for awhile (had to wish the red-head a happy birthday) in the rain after dark, but I was equipped with Kayla´s pepper spray and Mike jogged by a few times to check on me.
Today we got our schedule for the next few weeks - tomorrow we´re going to a strange place called Temascal which has hot saunas to cleanse the spirit and accompanying massages. I´m immensely excited!
All in all the trip has been wonderful and I´m truly enjoying the company. I don´t get a lot of things about this country, and some of it has not been great, but I´m loving it and living every second of it that I can.
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