Coming to America

Went home for Christmas and it was amazing. Got to see friends and family and had time to sleep and watch Law and Order: SVU. Now I'm back in Mexico after 12 days in the States and felt the need to comment on some of the things that were most striking when I was home. They were the kind of things that made me wonder how scared and shocked a person immigrating to the U.S must be.

Within 2 minutes of being back, I made 2 rookie "not from America" mistakes. First, I bought a water bottle. I never bought water bottles in the States. I'm a firm believer in tap water's credibility and am obsessed with the whole concept of free clean water after 4 months of living somewhere where you can get sick if you swallow too much water in the shower. When I went to pay for the water bottle, I was excited to use my debit card so I handed it eagerly to the cashier. He definitely gave me a "wtf woman" look (much like the one the tamale man gave me in the Trust Issues post) and pointed at the card-swipe machine in front of the register. Yep, haven't seen one of those in a bit.

As I walked around the airport I was amused by the tiniest details. I especially enjoyed noticing that:  most restaurant tables have a bottle of ketchup, flushing toilet paper is a delightful luxury,  Beats headphones have been quite successful (judging by how often I saw them at the Dallas airport) and that as promised, military personnel were in fact all heading home for the holidays. The airport was packed with soldiers. Sometimes there were even soldiers with Beats headphones! Giggity.


I would have to say though that the most exciting part of being back, as weird as it sounds, was seeing African-Americans. I have only seen 2 black people  in the 4 months I've been in Mexico (and one of them was French) so it was absolutely amazing to see just how racially, ethnically and culturally diverse the U.S is. There are tons of people of different cultures and ethnicities in Mexico too, but not like in the States. In celebration, I decided to dedicate a good amount of time in Nashville to catching up on the latest hip-hop jams, pop songs, favorite oldies, and most importantly, Drake. I found that I listened to the following songs quite a bit:

112-Dance with Me

Drake-So Proud of You

The Weeknd-Wicked Games

You know you like it. Just skip to :58 so you don't have to sit through the Beanie Sigel part :) 

AND I heard this song for the first time: Cobra Starship-You Make me Feel. I think they play it all the time on the radio in the States but I hadn't heard it yet and now it brings a whole new level of excitement to my workout.

Me and the fam on Christmas Eve

I'm not gonna lie, I was sad to get on the plane. I knew that the honeymoon stage with Mexico was over and that I was coming back to face a completely different experience. Now that I'm back, I've decided that Mexico is no longer my passionate lover but more of a caring husband. It's a different kind of love but it's definitely still there. Flying over DF was just as spectacular as the first time. It's a behemoth of a city, so unorganized, so chaotic but so perfect in it's own way. Here's to 2012 in Mexico.

My 1st glimpse of the city

Festival of the Authentic, Intrepid Danger-Seekers

Mexico, like many other Latin-American countries, is characterized by an overwhelming dominance of the "machista" mentality and the fulfillment of traditional male and female roles. That's why our trip to Juchitán for  La Vela de las Auténticas Intrépidas Buscadoras del Peligro, or Festival of the Authentic, Intrepid Danger-Seekers ended up being as educational as outrageous. On the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, being gay is celebrated and having a homosexual son (specifically a transexual) is actually considered quite a blessing since,  

"These sons do handicrafts and sell embroideries in the market with the women, while the men work in the fields, so it's a monetary boon to the family. And while daughters marry and leave home, a muxe cares for his parents in their old age."

Muxe we met representing San Francisco in the pageant

Muxe (pronounced "MOO-shays") is the local name given to men who dress like women, or dress like men but have male lovers and hold traditionally female jobs—weaver, party planner, hairdresser. There are still strong indigenous roots in this area, so the word muxe is Zapotec word derived from the Spanish “mujer,” or woman; it is reserved for males who, from boyhood, have felt themselves drawn to living as a woman, anticipating roles set out for them by the community.

The story of how muxes came to be is as follows:

God gave San Vincente Ferrer (Juchitán's patron saint) a bag full of homosexuals to distribute throughout Mexico, one in each town BUT when he got to Juchitán, the muxes became too exuberant—they all burst out of the bag here." 

SCANDALOUS 

The festival ends with a ball on Saturday night that began at 9 pm and ended at 5 am the next morning. For about $10 (which I didn't pay because I'm a girl) you receive a case of beers (approximately 24), food, and entertainment of all forms. There was a live band and dancing but more importantly, "there were muxes in trajes (traditional Mexican dresses), ball gowns, miniskirts and thigh-high boots-some of them with prosthetic breasts and one with very real-looking implants". The entire town was there, fathers dancing with daughters, mothers and grandmothers, muxes and more muxes. It was truly an amazing trip. It was approximately 13 hours on a bus each way with tons of shambles en route. Lots of running, sweating, getting left behind, and winding roads. We headed to the beach the next day to recover from what truly was one of the most outrageous things I think I've seen. 

 Here is some more evidence: 

                                                                                  

This man just hopped onto our small van and started playing his guitar as we weaved around this gigantic mountain...just one of the ridiculous things that made this weekend. People pretend they don't hear him so they don't have to give him $, obviously, I was caught filming him and had to..



This place had no AC and no toilet seats, "Hotel Modelo" I think not

For 130 pesos you got an entire case of beers (24 beers) and free food, live music and dance..THAT is why it was shambles

   


Ate Tlayuda a typical Oaxacan  dish to recover from the night before. Had some Iguana right before this and was not a fan





Playa Azul-The virgin beach we'd been searching for

 

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo :)





Pups laying out on the beach with us

 *Sources and more information can be found in the NYtimes and Travel & Leisure 



Latest Adventures

So I am currently working on 2 blog posts that I hope will be enjoyable reads. The first is about what can only be described as an Indigenous celebration of transexuals and the second is a SHOCKING exposé on the travesties witnessed on a daily basis on the Mexico City MetroBus. It's a human interest piece really.

In the meantime I wanted to document some of the things I got to do around here the weekend of November 11-13.

On Friday, November 11, only 3 important things really happened:

     1. At 11:11 (remember that it was 11/11/11), all the ladies at the office went out into the courtyard and we took part in some yoga and meditation ritual to increase our positive energy. From what I gathered, it was supposed to make us one with the Sun and make us look at the good in life, but I just felt like an uncoordinated dork. Overall though, I enjoyed it.

  

  2. The Secretary of the Interior died in a helicopter crash. He's the equivalent of the Vice President in the U.S. He's ALSO the 2nd  Secretary of Interior to die in a helicopter crash in 3 years, and the 6th one of this Mexican administration. Needless to say after we got all our good vibes flowing, theories of this being a murder carried out by narcos were all anyone could talk about...SCARY.

  3. My phone got jacked

And as a result of event #3, I spent Saturday, November 12, sulking around and doing housekeeping things.  I went to Chili's and ordered a Fajita Quesadilla which I realized was stupid seeing as I live in Mexico and could have gotten something way better on the streets for a dollar. Things started looking up after that though. I went to a house party where a famous Mexican celebrity happened to be. His name is Kalimba but I'd never heard of him so his presence was not impressive except for that he was surrounded by beautiful women dressed in what seemed to be a uniform of little black dresses paired with black boots. This Kalimba was apparently the voice of Arnold and Simba in the Spanish versions of Hey Arnold! and The Lion King.

Highlights of the night include watching the Pacquiao Marquez fight, seeing the semi-enraged (would've been enraged if sober) Mexicans when Pacquiao won, then dancing to the following songs at our local bar:

1. Party Up-DMX

2. You Can Do It-Ice Cube

3. Lo que Paso Paso-Daddy Yankee

Sunday, November 13 was an amazing day. It was just one of those days that you wake up and wonder what you've done to deserve the opportunities you have.

Had breakfast with Scott and Joe on the rooftop then headed to Plaza de Tecnologia to break a myriad of American laws to get my iPhone activated here. Plaza de Tecnologia is basically a street, rather than an actual plaza, filled with people selling what are no doubt stolen phones, pirated and illegal software, tech repair services and accessories. Turns out that when AT&T tells you your phone is locked..they're lying. A guy standing on the street took off his gold hoop earring, pulled out the SIM card and somehow figured that out as I gawked at his ability to use jewelry to solve my phone issue. I paid about $40 total to get a new case, screen cover and to have a man there download all the software necessary to get it working. So many broken laws though...oh so many.

One of my favorite things about Mexicans is that since they can't wait on the government to help them, when there are no jobs, they create their own. This plaza and the surrounding streets are packed with thieves but mostly with industrious people who have taken charge of their lives and essentially started their own businesses.

Then there happened to be a free Chromeo concert a couple of blocks from our apartment in Parque Mexico. I'd never heard of Chromeo before but they were really a fun band and the amount of hipsters that had managed to flock there after the post on Twitter about the concert was really great to see..

Here is a much better video of the madness  made by the sponsors, Absolut: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cF7irTehnpE

And of course that's not enough excitement to fit into a day so after the concert we headed over to the Televisa Studios for a tour and to watch the taping of their weekend sports show, Televisa Deportes. Their commentary on NFL games was by far the best part...Los Vaqueros de Dallas y Los Acereros de Pittsburgh..jejejeje

The Televisa version of Sports Center

And then real life started again on Monday and to get my phone registered, I had to leave work an hour early, run to a Customer Service Center (open conveniently from 10 am-7pm in a country where office hours are about from 9-6:30), just to barge through the doors at 6:56, deal with some sass from the receptionist, then wait till #330 was called so I could register my phone with my passport. That's right, you buy the phone, then have to travel elsewhere in this behemoth of a city to register the phone so that you can actually use it..#inefficiency

Only one side of the TelCel Service Center  

A Shocking Exposé on Mexico City's MetroBus

Alright FINE. It's no Exposé. But if you've ever ridden the MetroBus in Mexico City, you know what goes down. If you've ever walked down the street, you've seen the poor souls stuck to the windows clinging for dear life as they wonder aloud how they ended up stuck to a bus window at the age of 23. Oh, is that just me?

It's likely that the Mexican government recognizes the lunacy that occurs on MetroBusses (not that their knowing spurs action anyway) but if you are one of my amigos in the States, then nothing you've ridden there could ever prepare you for this.

Quick Background:
Opened up in 2005, the newest MetroBus line was finished in 2010 and is for the most part a cheap and fast way to get around since it operates within a reserved lane and thus moves much quicker through traffic. A single-trip costs about 0.38 USD and you streamline your usage via a reusable "smartcard". Besides addressing the bus service problem, the Metrobús project emerged in the context of the city’s efforts to reduce air pollution. 

According to information from the Mexico City government published in April 2006, the Metrobús carried more than 390,000 passengers daily. I couldnt find the stats for daily passengers in 2011, but it sometimes feels that the 390,000 passengers are all on your bus at once.

The BEAST

Things that have occured on the MetroBus:

* It was once so crowded, I was literally able to sit down in mid-air as fellow riders suspended me up with their bodies.

*I saw a woman try to squeeze into the bus with a cake and then watched knowingly as the doors smashed her cake into pieces.

*A man was once attacked by an entire cart full of women for riding in the "women's passenger car" and was then forcibly removed by a police officer. I have frequently heard women, perhaps sick of years of life in a male-dominated society, yell crowd favorites like, "If we don't demand respect here, they'll always take advantage!"

*A guy on my MetroBus got his phone stolen, sprinted out of the bus at the next stop to beg a nearby police officer for help. He was met with a loud and embarrassing,  "Dude, you got your phone stolen? What do you want ME to do about it?" Not sure why he wasn't expecting that one.

*In the painful and terrifying dash to get off the bus before being trampled by the boarding passengers (see video below), a lady got her purse stuck in the double-door and watched as the bus rode off with her bag. Her panic-stricken face summed up what has to be one of the crappiest things to happen on your way to work.

*This week, I watched as folks intently stared at the Mo' Money Mo' Problem video on the bus tv screen.

And although it seems like this crazy stuff happens every day, what I really DO see every day is what has to be the jankest beauty trick ever: women curling their eyelashes with spoons. I suppose the market for the eyelash curler is minuscule here.

See there? In one hand, a mirror. In the other hand, a SPOON.  No, I'm not a creeper. I am an investigative blogger.

 Since Mexicans have a refreshing "no pasa nada" attitude, I can see why some people (especially those that don't ride it regularly) smile or laugh when they're getting crushed by double doors and squeezing into a space that is simply not there. But most people that ride the MetroBus during rush hour have to do it on a daily basis, so to them (to us!), it's not funny.

In the beginning, I used to get really nervous to ride the MetroBus because there is an entire protocol. It's not a "get-on and get-off" type thing. OH NO.  But it gets better. You get used to it, and you pick up tricks to make the ride easier. For me, trying to take video and pictures of the mayhem to write this post has helped. So now that I've published this post...well..I guess I'll take up eyelash spooning.

I shot about 15 videos to get this one. It is the story of how a pregnant lady and her elderly parents try to get off the MetroBus. I attempt to give you a play-by-play even including English captions for yall who don't speak Spanish. Yes, it's on my iphone but you'll get a good idea. ENJOY!

Guanajuato

Went to Guanajuato last weekend for the Cervantino Festival and was thoroughly impressed with the brilliantly colorful town about 5 hours north of Mexico City. The Cervantino Festival is one of the most famous festivals in Latin America and although it is centered on celebrating cultural events based on an annual theme, it is also known for being a rager. We were there for 3 days and rage we did. 

Still, I think my favorite part about being in Guanajuato for this festival was that it was a magnificent example of how Mexico combines tradition with modernity. The videos posted at the bottom can show you first hand. There is footage of a Callejoneada, which takes you on a musical historic tour of the town, then of our trip to a local club and of one of the concerts featured in the festival. You can see that Mexico has a lot to offer and that it has found a way to celebrate old customs while enjoying the new!  

Below are my favorite pictures of the trip and the videos I mentioned: 

Impressively beautiful town nestled in the mountains

Lost a staring contest with this little girl at the market 

El Pípila: Statue of Mexican Revolution War Hero. The man strapped slabs of rock to his back as a bullet-proof vest to protect him as he ran out in front of the Spanish's fort and opened their gates to let Mexican troops in.  

   

I tried to match my clothing to the colors of the city

Typical Guanajuato Dish: Enchiladas Mineras 

View of the Pipila and the track that leads to the top of the hill (where we stayed) from the Main Square:

Examples of Mexico's amazing culture:
*note: video quality was ruined after uploading it toBlogger so if you for some reason want to see the good versions of these, let me know. 

The Callejoneada was led by students from the University of Guanajuato and took us through the town

We went to this club called Galleria that was one, amazing, and two, an example of how American music permeates the worlds's fiestas 

Right before we left we saw this Mexican band rocking out at the festival and a legion of fans joining in on the show                    

Trust Issues

On the very last day of orientation we had a much-awaited workshop on business practices in Mexico and how to handle business-interactions with our colleagues, clients and bosses. There were several helpful key takeaways like:

• There is no seperation between home and work. It is perfectly normal and acceptable to take a personal call during a business meeting and taking care of your kid or parent is a perfectly acceptable reason for missing work. No judgement.
• Meeting agendas are a nicety at best..don't ever expect that you will follow it or even consider the fact that you will finish early
• If someone pauses for a "quick" interruption, it is probably everything but "quick" so fire up the Angry Birds on your phone

And then, the most intriguing of all:

• Without trust, there is no business deal. Many business deals are made over several meals or drinks to establish a personal bond.

Our speaker, the Senior Advisor at Manatt Jones Global Strategies, John Bruton, followed this up with a strong statement that I've spent the past couple of weeks exploring.

"Mexicans have Trust Issues"

The conversation delved into the history of trust issues in Mexico which date back to the days of the Aztecs when misplaced trust led to their downfall in the hands of the Spanish. He gave the example of the Mexican government. Mexicans are aware and accept the fact that there government is corrupt. Many don't expect anything from them. Not protection, education, economic development, healthcare..nothing. They know that if they need something, the government and their cronies (like the police) are not exactly a reliable resource. 

Still, I've started thinking about some of my experiences with trust in Mexico City and it becomes a complex issue marked by contradictions, confusion and just overall shambles...

My very first street food item. I got a weird look from the tamale man for paying him BEFORE I ate it.

For example, when you order food from a street cart, you can literally eat half of their inventory and not pay till you're done. You keep ordering, they keep serving, and no money is exchanged until the very end. This is obviously normal at a sit-down restaurant but at a street cart where your customer can just scurry away..it seems like a weird place to trust folks willy-nilly. But they do. In fact, the first time I ate a street tamale, I paid for it immediately after the man handed it to me, and he looked like I was such an incredible inconvenience. It was like he wanted to serve all the customers first and THEN receive their payments along with compliments of the food.

It is likely all these people eating haven't paid yet (pic from Grantourismo Travels) 

And THEN the story of all stories about trust in Mexico City happened when I was on the prowl for apartments. My roomie and I were supposed to meet with a  landlady to sign the final contract one evening after work. I was feeling sick (I thought it was gonna be my first taste of Montezuma's Revenge), tired and then I got lost and was an hour and a half late. Needless to say, by the time I got there, I just wanted to sign the damn thing and go home. We were there for another hour and a half, going over every single detail with this woman from a ridiculous $5,000 peso deposit for the phone to the difference betwen a pipe bursting and a light bulb breaking (the difference being we pay for maintenance and not infrastructure issues).

After all that, after a month of apartment hunting, we signed the contract. We were supposed to be done. BUT NOOO. The next day, this lady comes out with some new mess about giving her copies of our visas, our payment contracts, our Fulbright letters and recommendation letters (oh, and an extra month's worth of rent). Mind you, we had already signed the contract. You are no longer legally allowed to demand anything else except what was specified in the contract. Still, to make sure our landlady trusted us, we put together these elaborate packets. The day after, our friends Mexican dad called her up to ask why she was being so insistent and make all these new demands after we'd signed the contract. Her answer:

         She thought I looked untrustworthy and didn´t feel comfortable with me living in her building.

Pause. WHAT?! I cried. It was actually my first time crying here. I wanted to write an entire blog post about  my first time crying because I figured it'd have something to do with getting lost, getting sick, or getting scared and thus somewhat interesting. But no, they were tears of anger and frustration. I was offended, but mostly, I was annoyed. Annoyed because I highly doubt any human landlord would pull some crap about your "untrustworthy face" to deny you an apartment. I'm sure they'd say they found another tenant, that it was no longer available and even go as far as saying the damn thing burnt down before making you run around in circles, insulting you and leaving you apartment-less. I see no benefit in doing that, but hey, some people aren't cost-benefit analysis types.

Was it cause I'm an American? (turns out people think we're entitled), Because I was texting on my phone? (this was a real example she used to prove I was untrustworthy), Because I looked annoyed and exhausted? Who knows. I got over it. I have a much better apartment now and it gave me more evidence that trust is a bit of a complex concept here.

Obviously, trust-building is difficult everywhere but that word: confianza, I've never heard it as much as I have here. There is no confianza in the government, there is confianza in the folks that lunch at the street carts, people recommend things by saying son de confianza (they're trustworthy) and so on..

It will be a topic I continue to explore. Oh oh, Trust Issues...

Every time I think of this lack of clarity on the concept of trust, I sing the chorus of this song. Not because it has anything to do with the subject but simply because it's called Trust Issues and because I've found myself having some Drake withdrawals here.. 

Scared for the 1st Time

I've only been in Mexico for 4 weeks, but I take public transportation every single day in DF and I've already been able to travel outside of the city twice. I have never felt unsafe. Until Sunday.
 I simply haven't felt like anybody was interested in stealing my iPhone or my cash or that anyone thought I would be worth particularly more in ransom money than any other person on the street.Still, yesterday when Sarah and I got into the taxi to take us home after our trip to Puebla, I realized that I couldn't just pretend like everything I've ever heard about danger here is a lie. The #1 tip EVERYONE says is key to remaining safe in Mexico City is taking safe taxis. They're referred to as sitio taxis or taxis seguros.


In  2008, Mexico City's government re-licensed all taxi cabs in the capital as part of a safety and quality campaign after the the number of "pirate taxis" taking people on "express kidnappings" skyrocketed at an alarming rate. Everything I've ever read about safety in Mexico City lists taxis as a huge precaution to take and lists the following as good advice:

• Dress and Act Sensibly
• The city government began issuing new plates that each have a chip in them for tracking the taxi. The number on the plate begins with a large letter ‘A’ followed by 5 numbers. All legitimate taxis, whether taken from the street, a taxi stand or a radio dispatcher, should have these plates. Also look for the 
carta de identificación (also called the tarjetón), a postcard-sized ID which should be displayed visibly inside the cab, and ensure that the driver matches the photo. If the cab you’ve hailed does not pass these tests, get another.



The typical taxi in DF. Sometimes sitio  taxis are completely unmarked cars that only responds to house calls. 

 As you can imagine, sitio taxis costs two or three times as much, but the extra cost adds an immeasurable degree of security. For that reason, I've yet to hail a cab off the streets.

On Sunday, our biggest mistake was probably yapping loudly in English as we made our way to the taxi and completely disobeying the "act sensibly" rule. We were exhausted and yapping loudly in Spanish seemed a bit out of the question. It's no excuse but it's an explanation.

 We should've known this guy was sketch when he kept looking at us as we walked to the taxi but sometimes men in this city act like they've never seen a woman before so it wasn't TOO out of the ordinary.  When Sarah asked why this man carrying our luggage wasn't taking us to the sitio for taxis and he mumbled something about it being the "terminal", we also should've known. The final clue that we decided to ignore was that even though he initially seemed to be the "bag boy" that usually helps you to the cab before your driver takes off, he turned out to be the driver after looking around suspiciously and hopping into the driver's seat.

Once we were in the car, Sarah asked the question that is always up for discussion in these situations:

¿Cuanto nos cobra?

How much are you charging us?

 He whipped out this laminated price card (something I've not seen before here) and said that we were heading towards Zone 3 for $260 pesos. 260 PESOS?! Absolutely ridiculous. I have been in quite a few taxis here (which are SIGNIFICANTLY cheaper than the States) and I've yet to pay more than $80 pesos to get home from any point in the city.  I don't know if it was because we were tired or if we were just sick of getting ripped off by people who think we're stupid Americans that won't fight back, but we both cruised right on in to sass mode. MAJOR sass mode. We were like 1.5 steps from snapping our fingers and doing the "oh no you didnt" neck roll. We stopped when Sarah finally said,

 "LISTEN, we don't even HAVE the money to pay you that much".

The man stopped the car and sped back towards the bus terminal. He took a wrong turn, then put the car into reverse and zoomed backwards for a few too many seconds for comfort.

I turned to Sarah and said, "We probably shouldn't do that ever again". We both nodded silently and then when the car finally stopped, we kind of apologized and ran off like 2 little girls who had just been schooled on the dangers of real life. What were we thinking talking to some random guy who knew we were Americans and was driving our car with such attitude? What if he was carrying a weapon or if we hadn't stopped sassing him when we did? Scary times. 

We went back to the sitio, grabbed a taxi that was still overpriced (apparently these taxi drivers implemented night fees over the weekend) and got home safely.

The next day, I dropped my MetroBus card walking to work. It had $200 pesos on it (a good month's worth of trips to work) and some nice man chased me down to give it back.

It restored my trust in people here.

Life Map: Antonio

Although the responsible thing to do after the Fulbright orientation would have been to search for an apartment, I decided to do what I would've never normally done and instead took a trip to Oaxaca with 2 fellow grantees (BBers we've dubbed ourselves. Get it? Binational Business-ers? yeah..). 

It was amazing. My original plan was to write about the INCREDIBLE food and sites so as to fulfill some of the "become a foodie" and "take more artistic pictures" goals but I thought I'd add another goal to the list and start developing that one instead.

New Goal: Talk to random Mexican people and get them to give me as much of their life map as possible in the short time I have with them. 

We met Antonio for the first time at the Zapotec ruins at Monte Alban, Oaxaca. He tried selling us some handmade turquoise masks as dozens of other salesmen had done in our time there but this man in particular stood out to me because:

1)  He kind of looked like Grandma Willow from Pocahantas...just with a  cowboy hat on
and 2)  his wizened face and wrinkled hands really seemed to have lived through things my privileged 22-year old self could not possibly understand.

He was also particularly memorable because he was just so much older than the average street salesman that you turn down. It made me think how unfair it was that people his age in the States were likely retired and sitting on a porch or traveling the world while he had to walk around every day asking tourists to look at the masterpieces he had spend hours making; tourists that like me, probably have no real understanding of the cultural significance of this place, his work, or the implications it has on daily life in Oaxaca and Mexico overall. 

Still, I feel really lucky that he trusted us enough to share some of his Life Map with us as he headed to the  market to buy rice, beans and milk for his grandchildren. I want to make sure I don't forget any of it soo...Here we go:

This is Antonio. Sorry it's so dark! When he said I could take his picture I just turned it on and snapped

Antonio is a talented artisan that takes a bus to Monte Alban every day to sell the masks that he makes in his small town nearby; a town that is inhabited by numerous skilled artisans that make their living primarily from farming and selling goods to the tourists. They even have a "trade association" that Antonio says regulates the farming practices of the locals so that the smell doesnt "scare" the tourists and that ensures the salesemen don't annoy visitors.

In 1956, Antonio moved to California for 3 years to work as a brazero under The Mexican Farm Labor Program  that began under Franklin Roosevelt but lasted 22 years. While in California, he picked grapes and tomatoes although he'd later joke that he's picked every crop there is. Antonio reminisced about the time with his fellow brazeros, many of whom, he said, escaped from the camps and lived out the rest of their years in America with their families.

Despite the temptation to stay, Antonio returned to Oaxaca for a couple of years before trying his luck in America one more time. This time, he did it illegally. He told us the gut-wrenching story of the 9-day treck across the border that saw him and numerous other stuffed in various parts of a van. He said they had nothing to eat for 3 days straight during that trip and that when people started feeling sick or started having regrets, they'd be left on the side of the road. On the 4th day, the coyotes fed them fried chicken and Antonio said they were finally able to sleep.

Antonio arrived in Arizona and worked picking limes and oranges. He laughed as he told me that he didn't like being an illegal immigrant so he paid a coyote to bring him back to Mexico. He says he'd never do it now and sadly shook his head as he recalled how many times in the recent years he's known locals that died on the trip, leaving their bodies to blow away with the desert sand and their families to live off of memories alone.

Antonio is a father of 5 and lives with his wife, some of his grandkids and 2 of his children. His other 3 live in California.

One of his sons moved with his wife to cook for a man who was desperately looking for an authentic Oaxacan cook. They still work at the restaurant but that was all Antonio mentioned of them. His other son worked out on a field in CA but got a hernia. He couldn't afford to get it taken care of in the States, and his employers weren't offering any help so he moved back to Mexico to get the medical attention he needed.

He told us about his 3rd son in California with a weird mix of sadness and pride. The pride came from the fact that this son, works 2 jobs and lives alone in the U.S while his wife and kids stay with Antonio. At night, he works as a janitor at several office buildings and during the day works as an insurance salesman. Antonio says there were 150 applicants for that 1 sales position and that his son waited in line all day, but beat out everyone for the job. The sadness of this son's story was because Antonio saw how much his grandchildren missed their dad on a daily basis. Antonio told us that his daughter-in-law used to tell the kids that their dad would come back one day on one of those planes that pass closely over their town. When their 9-year old started asking if daddy was on every plane that flew above, they stopped telling them that.

To kind of lighten the mood, he randomly offered that he thought we were silly Americans for going to the Mercado de Abastos where even he doesn't like going because of the crime. Still, he was impressed that we went and were perfectly fine.

A few minutes passed and then, as if he thought he needed to end his Life Map with some food for thought, he sighed,

" Si, la vida aqui es dificil pero yo ya me acostumbre. Me acostumbre hace tiempo"
Yes, life here is hard but I've already gotten used to it. I got used to it a long time ago.

We shook hands and got off at the same stop. He headed to the market and we headed to our first comida corrida in Mexico.

A Day in the Life of Mexico City

Where are you FROM?

The other day, my Mom and I were walking our dog, Angel (Angela or Awn-hey-lah to my mom), around the Murf and randomly this lady stopped us to say hello. This never happens. 

I truly believe that whole "southern hospitality" thing only applies at the grocery store and to casually wave at your neighbors as you hurtle pass them in your car. People simply aren't THAT nice on the streets so I was already approaching this woman with suspicion. I felt this was fine since Angel's ears were perked up and her sniffing sounds were getting louder in that typical dog way of saying..."who the hell are you?"

As usually happens in casual conversation, the question that follows "What's your name?" is of course, "where are you from?". I think for most people this is a pretty simple question but for my Mom and I, it was kind of weird. We gave each other a glance that conveyed slight terror but more specifically expressed an "Eff, YOU ANSWER IT!" type of emotion.

I just kind of fumbled on my words like I was in the witness protection program and reluctant to share such personal information and said: 

“Oh, I’m from here and she’s from Ecuador”.

It seemed like such an inadequate answer but got me to thinking how I’m going to deal with this question as I head to Mexico, live there and throughout the rest of my life upon returning. If the complications of this  question aren’t clear to you already, let us consider some of the answers I could’ve given our strangely nice neighbor: 

Q: Where are you from? 

 A: "Oh,well, we're from Stonetrace Drive a couple of blocks from here"

-Pffft...since Stonetrace Drive is hardly another state or country, I feel this is an abnormal answer to this question. 

A: "We're from America"

-I feel that only a drunk person abroad or somebody trying to prove citizenship status would say this...

 A:"Well, we've been in Tennessee for years but we're originally from Miami"

-Well that doesn't really cover it all does it? I mean, I'm sure my parents have no problem claiming Miami as a "hometown" since they lived there for 20+ years but it does kind of exclude the birthed in South America part.

The only answer that would adequately convey the story of where my family is "from"is the following: 

My dad was born in Colombia and my mom was born in Ecuador. They are now U.S citizens and have lived here longer than they did in their native countries but still have accents and other habits that most certainly impede them from being considered the average “American”. My sister and I were born in Miami and moved to Tennessee during the middle school years. We’ve spent more years in Miami than here, but if you’ve ever spoken to us, you probably couldn’t tell from the occasional southernism. 

There is no doubt, Tennessee has been good to us. Here, we have accomplished things that may have been virtually impossible had we stayed back in South Florida. But if home is where the heart is, Miami is home. 

At our house, football season is marked by the purchase of DirectTV’s Sunday Ticket so that my dad can watch every single Dolphin’s game and Basketball season this year ended sadly as the entire Villamizar clan realized “the decision” fell short.  

Still, the truth of the matter is, the question,"Where are you from?", is really just a PC way of getting to what most people REALLY want to ask, which is:

 “What ARE you?” 

I used to hate this question. These days, despite its lack of tact, I tend to appreciate its directness since it always sucks having to decide whether people want to know where I live or if they want to hear: “My dad is from Colombia blah blah blah....” 

And NOW, after years of living in a place where I’ve gotten questions like: 

“You speak Spanish but you’re NOT Mexican? How does that work?”, 

 I am moving to Mexico and adding an entirely new element of difficulty in explaining where I’m from/what I “am”. Now, people are certain that I have some ancestral connection to Mexico and I have to give an entirely different spiel about my decision to apply for Fulbright Mexico, the fact that I have never been there, and that it is unlikely that despite the skin tone, anyone will believe I am actually a chilanga (slang for native Mexico City dweller). I am sure that for the rest of my life, I will be clarifying the fact that I lived in Mexico for a year but I am not from there in any sense of the word. 

Interestingly, I have never had to make that clarification for the time that I spent studying in Spain. 

In honor of the latest Hurricanes scandal, my attempts to see the splendid 2009 documentary, The U, and the fact that I’ve met 4 “The” Ohio State University folks in the past 2 weeks, here is a little clip that makes me happy that I have such amazing places to pick from when explaining where I’m from, where I’ve lived and who I am. 

When the Miami Hurricanes lost to Ohio State in the 2002 Championship game in a double overtime play, we knelt in front of the TV, we prayed and then, when we lost, I cried, didn’t sleep that night and it’s never been the same since but still..loyalties don't change.

UPDATE: Been in Mexico DF, for a 1.5 days, and where I’m from has come up a lot. People want to know where my Browness and slightly Cuban twang comes from, I have already danced Bachata twice and the man at the breakfast counter this morning pondered, “Tennessee?” with an, “I’ve never heard of that place before” look on his face.

 Get it DF.