Living the lizard life

This evening I came home to find a lizard on my wall, way up high by the ceiling.  When I returned from my bedroom it was gone.  Creeeeeeepy.  I’ve decided that it found its way back outside and that there is zero chance that I will find it in my bed or wake up to it crawling across my face.  I’ve also decided that it’s a totally harmless lizard that just wants to eat my insects and not my face, as it is not one of the toxic lizards I heard about at dinner last week. 

This has nothing to do with the lizard; I just love local art.  

View from where I spotted the lizard.  

I had an amazing dinner at the home of a local archaeologist and his wife, complete with home-cooked food, including delicious blackberry jam, fresh strawberries dipped in powdered sugar, beef wrapped with spinach and cheese and potatoes au gratin.  My mouth was in heaven. My head was unfortunately swimming as I heard stories about toads with razor tongues and toxic saliva, dead snakes found under the hosts’ bed pillows, huge insects landing on people’s arms, poisonous lizards that look harmless (it’s always that winning red, black and white combo to watch out for) and the big black snake that lives under their porch and eats mice.  Needless to say I had to look in every nook and cranny before I went to bed and jump up to turn on the light several times during the night to investigate noises that could have been any one of the critters on their list. 

I’m not sure what the noise in my bedroom ceiling actually is but I can hear it throughout the night and in the morning I often find piles of what looks like coffee-grounds made from wood on the floor.  I keep pulling my sheets up over my head at night and trying to pretend it’s just the noise of the ocean and not something living and crawling 15 feet above my head.  I need to ask my landlord to tackle this just like he tackled the roof situation in the living room after I discovered several spots where heavy rain created a variety of waterfalls shooting from the ceiling and an eventual lagoon on my floor.  When you only have one towel – and that’s your bath towel – you can’t afford big puddles of water in your living space.

 What lurks in my lovely wood ceiling...?

My bedroom.

Site of last week's indoor river. 

I’m trying to figure out the trash system and have deduced that in order to get my stuff to the street in time for pickup, I’m going to have to wake up earlier than 9 AM.  This is sad news indeed.  I love that my office doesn’t really get jumping until 10:30 or later every day.  I don’t love that there’s no trash bin provided by the City because I have no idea where I should put my small bag of trash, my compostables or my recyclables without them getting strewn about by local street dogs.  I don’t really like leaving out a plastic bag of trash, but I’m not willing to leave my stuff out in a plastic container because both Cindy and my office have lost containers on the street.  This PC volunteer just can’t afford to buy multiple trash containers.

 

More scenes from this week's local art show. 

I am cooking now and made my first chicken soup this week using a piece of chicken with bones, some fresh green beans I received as a gift, a tomato and the only spice I’ve been able to find thus far, garlic salt. I’ve got a special container for cleaning my fruits and vegetables using purchased water and microdyne.  We had a full day of lessons about how to properly clean our food for good health, and I decided microdyne was a better option for me than the recommended bleach (it’s just so not cosmopolitan to cook with bleach).   I also received two awesome glass mason jars from Cindy as a gift and those are the current pride of my kitchen (and the current home for my chicken soup).

Peace Corps recommended cleaning for fruits and vegetables:

• Scrub with soap and water
• Soak in chlorine water
• Rinse with treated water and dry
• Remove skins

View at the tienda for pollo. 

My kitchen - site of intensive vegetable cleaning. 

This is how you pour water; and how you use a dust pan without bending over. 

My hope is that if my lizard decides to keep living in my house, it stays out of my kitchen, and gorges himself on mosquitoes and flies out of my line of site.  I can successfully coexist with lizards and spiders so long as I don’t see them; if I don’t see you, you don’t exist, and I can pretend to sleep just fine at night.  And if that noise in bedroom ceiling disappears, then I can actually sleep just fine. 

Patience be thy middle name

I never thought of myself as an impatient person until I arrived in Mexico and started reciting the mantra “have patience – everything will work out” on a semi-regular basis.  Patience is all you can ask for a few days after you've paid your rent and still don't have a house key.  Or when the sound on your 6-month-old computer stops working which means you now have no means of international communication or in-home entertainment (dude, I NEED to listen to Beyonce's Lemonade everyday).  Or when that same computer starts flashing a white screen all the time and then your external DVD drive stops working. Or when you really need plain old tortilla chips for your guacamole but somehow can't seem to find those anywhere in Mexico (i.e., the serious problem).  Obviously, these are minor inconveniences that will eventually be worked out (or disappear) but having patience takes a lot of work.

 Your standard field of corn and beautiful view in town.  

Storm rolling in - I'm learning all the spots water enters my house. 

Common view in my pueblo. 

There’s a group of volunteers who participate in the Peer Support Network (PSN) in Peace Corps and they call to check in on their fellow volunteers every 3 months or so.  Last week I got a call from my PSN contact Jess and it was eerily good timing as I was starting to crack from working on being patient.  I wasn’t chomping at the bit to leave my cozy, comfy host family home but I was eager to get moved into my house and to get started on the next phase of life here.  That's the “cook and clean for yourself” life that signals you are permanent and can go barefoot in the house if you want to.  

When I first arrived in Mexico I was so not down with wearing shoes inside all the time, as is the custom here.  I’ve asked several people why this is a thing and I’ve heard that it was a custom in the past when floors were made of dirt and that people think it’s cleaner to wear your shoes inside vs. going barefoot. I’ve been a lifelong barefoot-in-the-house club member, but I’ve gotten used to changing into my flip flops every day and even wearing them when I get up in the middle of the night. All it takes is running into one unidentified creature on the floor in bare feet to learn a new custom. 

All houses should be painted lovely colors like this. 

Local scenes. 

There's an artistry to floor tiles here. I have 4 different varieties in my house. 

This is the last week in the office with my buddy Pierre before he heads back to France.  A lot of people here assume that he is either my son or my husband because we look “just alike.”  He’s 15 years younger than me and from a different country, so the real similarity is that we’re both white.  There’s definitely a tendency in the US to group people who look alike – usually based on the color of their skin – into one group and to make assumptions about that group based on your experience with individuals.  It’s a little confusing when you’re on the other end of that assumption because the differences seem so stark and obvious to you.  But then you remember that it’s easier to distinguish what is different in things that are familiar, and that everything different is alike in being different. 

 With my buddy Pierre.

Time - it goes so fast. And looks so pretty inside a church tower clock.

I’m going to miss my French son and all the times he made us coffee and called cheerleaders "pom pom girls" (he swears that's a thing in France), but c'est la vie.  I’ll have to be patient waiting for coffee to brew that I had to make myself and search for some new friends and activities as I settle into my real life here. Patience....you're a tiring virtue but I'll do my best.   

Lactose-free love

After living with 2 different host families for 3 months each, I can tell you that this magical thing happens during the third month. The first 2 months you get along and can say plenty of nice things about them but that third month you transition to real family with real love.  After the magic of my first host family in Querétaro, I did not think it would be possible to find that again, but here we are, 3 weeks into my third month at site with host family number 2, and it’s happened.  We’ve started laughing together and making jokes on a regular basis, their youngest granddaughter and I are getting really good at drawing together, and things just feel more relaxed.

 

Vendor in the square. 

Local art. 

Spot of my purchase for a new decorative pot. 

Now I could joke that I’m just such a great house guest that families can’t help but to fall in love with me (and I’m not saying that’s not true…), but I gotta tell you, I find myself continually amazed at the generosity of the people here.   This week alone my host family gave me two old plastic chairs for my new patio, an old blender that I got fixed for only 100 pesos (vs. 1,000 pesos for a new one), and some kitchen supplies so I wouldn’t have to buy my own.   They also helped me try to navigate the process for getting internet, took me to the local fruit market to show me the ropes for choosing the best papaya, went shopping with me at the store in town that has everything (aptly named “Todo y Todo”) and answered all my questions about how to deal with cockroaches, spiders, the trash and more.  And, perhaps most importantly, they gave me access to a TV to watch my beloved Olympics. 

Shopping for onions and everything else. 

I am going to miss living with my host family but I can thankfully see their front door from my new front door so I’m working out a flag system to alert them when I need things, like more milk.  Last week my host mom made pancakes for dinner and suggested I have a glass of milk.  I thought it smelled a little funny and she said “Oh no, that’s just because it’s lactose free because you only drink lactose-free milk.” I was like “uh, what now? This is lactose-free?”  So… turns out my first day here when we went grocery shopping I grabbed the milk with a green label (because I like the color green) and it was lactose-free so that’s what I’ve been drinking for 3 months.  Alicia did ask me a few times if I wanted cow milk and I thought she was referring to the giant open pot of milk in the fridge that was purchased from a guy selling from an even bigger pot in the back of his truck.  He drives up, you bring out your big pot, and he ladles the milk into your pot.  I’m a little ladle shy so I thought, no thank you, I’ll stick with this familiar milk from home!  Well, jokes on me with that one since I never drank lactose-free milk before coming to Mexico. Lesson learned: don’t choose your milk based on the color of the label (and learn more Spanish).

    La Cruz de Romero.

 One of many sets of stairs to reach the top. 

View from the top. 

Steep stairs down. 

This week I got my first hair cut in Mexico and it was little surreal doing such a normal thing from home in a very different setting.  It was also a little surreal getting my hair cut for under $7, with tip, and not being worried that a teenager was going to cut my ear or leave me looking wicked awkward.  I had to google how to say “do you remember Meg Ryan’s hair at the height of her career? That’s what I want – but you know, appropriate for my face shape and this climate” in Spanish, and that’s a lot to remember.   Thankfully the stylist spoke some English and I was very happy with the result. 

I also checked a number of things off my local “must see” list this weekend thanks to the kindness of Cindy’s friends from Nayarit.  They stopped by Costco on their way to town and brought me a giant bottle of olive oil, a big box of sugar-free crackers and a fancy new bathmat.   

View from the mirrador of our lush green landscape. 

Volunteers with a view. 

That's my town, surrounded by mountains! 

We hit up a number of great tourist vistas, including the mirrador just above town where you can get the best view of my pueblo, which is a virtual emerald wonderland thanks to all the recent rain.  We also saw the famous Virgin of the Rosario de Talpa de Allende.  Millions of people walk la Ruta del Peregrino each year during Semana Santa to see the Virgin, which is a small figurine housed in the local church.  To complete our tour of religious sites, we also climbed up to the top of La Cruz de Romero and trekked up the hill to see Cristo Rey.  I have visited this town probably 10 times and I never noticed the giant statue of Jesus on the hill before this weekend.  Combine this with my selection of lactose-free milk and I think it’s clear that I really need to start being more observant.  However, I did totally notice the donkey tied up to a phone pole and the horse walking down the sidewalk by itself this weekend, so I’m catching the really important things.  

  Beautiful church, home to the Virgin of the Rosario. 

  Local plaza. 

  Giant statue of Jesus. 

  Art at Cristo Rey. 

Art at the church. 

Life without frozen pizza

This morning I woke up to the sound of hands slapping tortillas and the song “If you’re going to San Francisco…” playing in the kitchen.  That was followed by a woman singing a Spanish-language version of the song “Runaround Sue,” which I’d like to think was some kind of progressive gesture.  My host mom Alicia was completing her bi-weekly task of making fresh corn tortillas for the family, and I love the rhythmic nature and sounds of this process.  I learned this morning that flour tortillas will burn in a pan without Teflon but corn tortillas will not. That knowledge sadly came at the expense of a young quesadilla’s life.

This week's adventure, finding fresh coffee beans, straight off the tree.

Lovley view looking towards the ocean. 

Beautiful flowers.

 

 Lush green views in the mountains.

Alicia and I started talking about shoes as she just purchased some new ones and I’ve had a strong desire to own more shoes since arriving in Mexico.  Here’s what I learned during our conversation: I need much fancier shoes, with heels.  I’m guessing my Birkenstocks, flip flops, Tevas and Toms have not been winners here but I’m a grungy Peace Corps volunteer now, so that’s what I’ve got.  Word in my house is that it’s kind of acceptable to wear flats to fiestas and weddings in the summer, but they need to be fancy and ideally have a slight heel. The rest of the year, you need to wear high heels to the party. 

This presents three problems for me: 1) I don’t own any high heels, 2) I don’t like to wear high heels and 3) I have one pair of black flats but I’m not sure they’d qualify as nice enough, or high enough, for any special event as they are starting to show some real wear and tear.  I recently saw a party for a quinceañera and it was amazing.  The young woman was beautiful in a colorful, poofy, prom-type dress, and was accompanied by what looked to be the entire pueblo dressed to the nines.  I wish I had looked more closely at all the women’s shoes to see what I’m aiming for.  Alicia indicated that there was a probability of gossip if your shoes are bad at a fiesta sooooo…. let’s just hope I don’t get invited to any fancy parties anytime soon. 

I spend a lot of time with cows these days; no high heels required.  

Big pile of dry corn cobs. 

There’s no chance I’ll be having any fancy parties at my new house, but I am happy to announce that I finally found a permanent home!  For the first time in 5+ months, I will have to shop and cook for myself, which suddenly feels a little intimidating.  I was at the local grocery store the other day and realized that there are zero aisles with frozen or pre-prepared food to purchase.  I repeat: there is NO FROZEN PIZZA in my town!  This is the kind of thing you only realize after living in a place for almost 3 months when you actually need to purchase your own food.  (PS. I really want frozen pizza now.)

Living room - pretty sure I will never be cold enough to need that fireplace. 

View of my lovely back patio. 

Kitchen, sans a refrigerator.  

Bedroom - with great tiles and a bathroom! 

It has been one of the greatest gifts of my life to have home cooked meals from my host moms here and I’m eager to try and recreate some piece of their magic in the kitchen.  However, the first thing I want to cook for myself is bacon.  Hot, crispy bacon, all by itself.  That will be followed by guacamole with chips.  I will eventually make real food, but I only have a stove top here (no oven or microwave), and I may have gotten a little lazy living in the lap of (food) luxury since March. 

Some of that delicious food other people have made for me.

 The coolest building in town: Cafe Don Balbino (photo by Cindy). 

Most artistic coffee-processing site ever (photo by Cindy). 

This weekend I took a 14-hour trek into the mountains to visit a small pueblo in the mountains.  This trip had all those golden nuggets that I’m starting to take for granted here:

• We left an hour late, and stopped for an hour to look at a super cool building for coffee processing (and taste delicious coffee).
• We saw two newborn calves, one of which could barely walk (and was super cute).
• We gave a lift to a man with two live chickens in a bag. 
• We got stuck on a muddy road in our 4x4 truck.
• We spent a fair amount of time looking for animal bones on a hillside: first for a dead cow, then a jaguar, then a horse (thankfully we found that one).
• We got about half a mile from our destination when we reached a random short stretch of wet concrete on a dirt road.  We walked the rest of the way and it’s now a great mystery why there was one small piece of concrete road nowhere near any other stretch of paved road.  
• We watched our coworker deliver some great workshops on organic practices and natural fertilizers while smoke billowed, mosquitoes bit and sweat dripped down my face like a river.
• We ate a delicious lunch in a woman’s house with fresh corn tortillas, jamaica water, nopales and more.  She had the world’s largest roll of toilet paper that was the size of a small ferris wheel. This thing measured like 5 ft x 3 ft. 

Just a couple of chickens in a bag. 

 Searching for animal bones on a steep mountain (and hoping not to see snakes). 

 New calf! 

 Workshop to turn those bones into fertilizer. 

 Super nice people riding a donkey. 

A random stretch of concrete too wet to drive on. 

I know, you're jealous. Giant toilet paper rolls, beautiful mountains, opportunities to walk on country roads.... It's hard to capture all the great things that happen here on a regular basis or to explain how hard I laughed when we hit that wet concrete.  I'm pretty sure I can survive without frozen pizza for awhile, but heads up to my family, I'm probably gonna need that in December :)