Crossing Niagra Falls on a Bicycle

Crossing Niagra Falls on a Bicycle or "Pasar el Niágara en Bicicleta" is a Cuban idiom used to describe overcoming a difficult situation. It is also the title of one of my favorite songs. It's by Juan Luis Guerra.

Eeeeeek.. I swear this entire blog won't be about him (or even the rest of this post)!

Any who, listening to my daily dose of this song, which describes the "near impossibility of obtaining medical treatment in a developing country", got me to thinking about how real of a situation this would actually be in Mexico.

I thought back to the last day of my semester abroad in Madrid, when my roommate got sick and we had to get her to a hospital ASAP. Our host mother was of no help, which was no surprise after a semester of stomaching dreadful food and experiencing first-hand her total disinterest in being...helpful. Victoria and I took a cab to the hospital and as soon as we walked in, we knew we were NOT going to get help anytime soon. We weren't Spaniards, didn't have the right documentation and since Spain has a socialized health care system, the emergency room was packed. And to think, Spain is no developing country.


Similarly, during my Alternative Spring Break trip this year to the Dominican Republic, the dilemma of receiving medical treatment popped up when we realized that the nearest "medical center" (or 3 bedroom shack) was a 30 minute walk from our home in El Guayabo down this incredibly difficult mountain path that kicked our ass on a daily basis.

The only picture I could find of the medical center near El Guayabo. Pictured are myself, Valerie Kuznik and Julia Peredo of ASB 2011: Three Little Birds

When we went to visit this place, the doctor, whom apparently was the latest of a slew of temporary physicians,  seemed to be accompanied only by a receptionist and an alarming amount of sass. She was the most stylish doctor I've ever seen, trading in that drab old white coat for a tight spandex shirt, skinny jeans and flip flops. Girl was looking gooood.



When Emily, one of the Site Leaders, came down with a case of pink eye, she had to haul ass down to the town 30 minutes away with Peace Corps volunteer and former Vandy student, Leigh, just to be told she didn't have pink eye and that she'd be fine. FINE?! Anybody who has ever seen pink eye, or has eyes in general, could see there was something wrong with her eye but it took a stern demand  for eye drops for the lady to finally help them out. Not surgery, not an eye exam, not any kind of medical treatment at all...just eye drops.

So as I head out to Mexico soon, I wonder how pertinent  this song really is to medical care there. Mexico City is HUGE so will it face the overcrowding we saw in Madrid or the lack of concern we saw in the DR? In reality, neither situation was urgent, so how concerned could we have really expected the doctors/medical staff to be? Is it really that much worse than walking into an overcrowded emergency room in New York with a stomach ache? I don't plan on getting ill in Mexico but hopefully this is something I can explore there too. What's real? What's hype?

Listen to the song. It's good, I promise.

No me digan que los médicos se fueron  

no me digan que no tienen anestesia       

no me digan que el alcohol se lo bebieron 

y que el hilo de coser fue bordado en un mantel

                                                                                                                                

No me digan que las pinzas se perdieron 

que el estetoscopio está de fiesta            

que los rayos X se fundieron                  

y que el suero ya se usó                          

para endulzar el café                              

                                                                                                                          

Don’t tell me that the doctors are gone.
Don’t tell me that you don’t have anesthesia.
Don’t tell me that someone drank the alcohol,
And that the thread for stitches
Has been sewn into a tablecloth.

Don’t tell me that the forceps are lost,
And the stethoscope is on vacation,
That the x-ray machine has burnt out,
And the serum has been used to sweeten the coffee.

Full Lyrics and Translation in the NYT: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/18/arts/18bgue.html

Welcome to Atlanta where the Players Play

And by "players", I mean my Mom and I of course. Indeed, we headed down to Atlanta, the closest Mexican Consulate,to get my Visa to work in Mexico and to frolick around on a Monday while the rest of society was off being productive. On the way down, we stopped at a Waffle House so that my mom could explore the intricacies of the American breakfast and to develop a better understanding of the WF tradition of hashbrown ordering..it was a hoot. I expect that it was my last big "American style" breakfast this year. 

Grand Slam Breakfast..shoutout to Brittanny O'Meara who doesn't like many foods but fully endorses Waffle House as a culinary gem.

Besides the fact that it was much more crowded than expected at the consulate, nothing interesting really happened there but our ATL adventures more than made up for it. As we waited for my Visa to be processed, we headed down to Lenox Square and spend more money than budgeted on some sweet Nine West shoes and then had lunch, which is really the point of this post and a step towards goal #1 from my first post.


Mexican Consulate in Atlanta


We met up with my cousin, Orlando, whom we call Tito, at Casa Vieja, a Colombian restaurant pretty close to the mall. Since there is no such option in Tennessee, we take the chance to eat at these places whenever possible and this time was no different. We ordered up some empanadas and a Bandeja Paisa (Paisa region Platter) for madre and I to split. Daily intake of this platter would surely result in some kind of heart attack, but we had already gone all out with the Waffle House so we decided to just finish the day with no regrets.



Our Bandeja Paisa included: Red Beans, White Rice, Chorizo, Arepa, Steak, Fried egg , Chicharron (frid pork rind),  fried plantains, avocado slice


The trip ended wonderfully with me finally getting my Visa, 2 new pairs of shoes and 2 cultured meals (yea that's right, I said it,  Waffle House is cultured).


Since we'll spend the rest of the year celebrating Mexico, let's celebrate Colombia right quick. First, because of the wonderful meal I just mentioned but also because Joe Arroyo, internationally loved Colombian Salsero, passed away this week and he was a HUGE part of the Villamizar household..CANDELA

Visa Para un Sueño

Before you look at the title of this blog, scroll down, see Spanish words, and assume this blog is only for Spanish-speakers, DONT FREAK OUT. I am moving to Mexico so obviously there will be some things in Spanish but there should be no problem for the most part. 

This is the first post so I thought I'd explain the actual name of this blog, give some history and then explain why it is relevant to me. Visa para un Sueño translates directly to "Visa for a dream" but more importantly refers to a song by Juan Luis Guerra that I thought fittingly, although ironically, describes my feelings towards the year ahead of me.

I knew as soon as I started creating this blog, that the title would be from a Juan Luis Guerra song since to me, he is like the Michael Jackson of Latin music. In the nine years I've spent living in Tennessee, I've gotten a lot of crap for not knowing, caring about, or listening to the classic rock that so many of my friends have adored. And every single time someone has been surprised by my lack of appreciation for Bob Dylan, Led Zeppelin (or whatever other rock band I've never heard of), I'm always tempted to ask if they know about JLG and set them in their place with an "in yo face" snap of the fingers and a "don't mess with me". This past year, I took a History of Rock class and although I did learn about some fun songs, I decided to make it up to myself by taking a class on Latin American and Caribbean music. I found that just like there were chapters on how the Beatles and Elvis transformed Rock, there were chapters on JLG being, essentially, in a category of his own.

Knowing my past as a Latina and JLG fan living in Tennessee is important because after years of living here, and a few months being back in Murfreesboro, I'm moving to places where I won't be unique for the same reasons I was here. It will likely be one of the main topics of this blog.

Any who, Visa para un Sueño is a beautiful song  (with a bomb dance beat) that documents the difficulty that immigrants face obtaining documentation to enter the U.S. and the yearning that defines many peoples' lives in search of the opportunity to do so. The song is amazing; poetically telling of how the process forces even the most honest of people to lie in pursuit of their life long dream and the frustration that many feel at being turned down year after year. JLG is Dominican but the lyrics seem pertinent for any immigrant population. 

The whole thing makes me emotional but  I tend to tear up at this part:

Buscando visa para un sueño       Seeking a visa for a dream
Buscando visa, la razón de ser     Seeking a visa, the reason to be
Buscando visa para no volver      Seeking a visa, to never come back 
Buscando visa para un sueño       Seeking a visa, for a dream


Musical interlude that makes me more emotional, 


Buscando visa, la necesidad                   Seeking a visa, the necessity
Buscando visa, qué rabia me da          Seeking a visa, makes me so mad
Buscando visa, golpe de poder              Seeking a visa, a powerful blow
Buscando visa, qué mas puedo hacer?  "               " what else can I do? 


So my point? I'm going to Mexico to learn about business. Great. But as a student of life, I'm going to Mexico to  learn about the social issues that make a song like Visa para un Sueño relevant for so many people. How can business practices between the U.S and Mexico improve the situation? Can they? 


And of course, on a personal level Visa para un Sueño is about me. I went to Atlanta on Monday to get my FM-3 Visa to work in Mexico so that I can fulfill my dreams. As people around the world dream about getting Visas to come to the U.S, I dream of getting mine, to leave, live and learn. I'm a college grad. Weird. I'm a Fulbright scholar. Absolutely unreal. I'm moving to the 2nd largest city in the world. Can I make it?


And of course, I head out with goals! 
1. Become a legitimate foodie (Anthony Bourdain style) and move away from just being some crazy that talks about food entirely too much
2. Take classes I'm not comfortable with at ITAM (finance, accounting, and corporate law)
3. Learn how to take more artistic photos (shout out Mark Etherington)
4. Explore the inner workings of a non-profit that advocates for nature conservation in a country that has bigger problems (or maybe they're interconnected? I'll find out!)
5. Discover the differences between my kind of "Latino culture" and the Mexican style(s). 
6. Learn a new dance style (maybe like this kid) 
7. Answer the question: What is it I plan to do with this one wild and precious life? 

~ Cyn