Ahhh.... a few hours of no work.

Finally we have a sunny day here! It has rained every afternoon or evening since I arrived. And it looks like it will rain again in a few hours. The clouds just drove me inside from the patio at this Starbucks. I'm here near the glorieta (huge rotary) of "El Angel" on the Paseo de La Reforma. Although it sits in the middle of this huge traffic circle it is a gathering place on weekends. It reminds me of the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NY. Vendors and shoe shine stands line the sidewalks around the glorieta. There are modern art benches and some displaced African fauna as well. Mexican tourists with their families snap pics next to the extranjeros (foreigners).

I told my taxi driver yesterday that when someone asks me how I like Mexico City I tell them "I don't know, I've only seen it from the window of a taxi!" It's such a welcome contrast to be out and about.

I 've discovered my neighborhood businesses. Argentine and Japanese restaurants with outdoor patios, a pizzeria, a dry cleaners, a seamstress, family style Mexican restaurants. And further on as the neighborhood becomes more commercial is an Office Depot. My local Sanborns is here at El Angel. On my first Saturday I took a 7 dollar taxi ride to the Sanborns two neighborhoods over. And I've had two taxis wait for me outside an Office Depot near my school. That's what happens when you Google instead of asking around.

But, I'm being completely taken care of here. Everything has continued to line up for me. Good apartment, nice neighborhood, my own personal taxi driver (we joke around and he practices his English with me). (Here's a guided tour from the front of my building- a private home that the owner converted into apartments.) My netbook is working out really well (though I HATE MS Word 2007), I feel relatively safe and while the course is hard, my teachers are very supportive. They work hard to minimize the stress to the extent that they can. My current instructor returns e-mails at 12:30 am on weeknights. He sleeps 4 hours a night. Working full time at International House and taking doing a masters degree part time.

This Starbucks may as well be on 9th and 9th in SLC. Everyone is on a laptop and a bottle of water costs 1.70 U.S. One notable difference: a private security guard strolls around waving off beggars and providing customers with laptop locks and the key to the wireless network. When I sat down Elvis Costello was playing. Just now it was Beth Orton, now Rufus Wainright. Although the familiar music is a product of the Americanization of the world at this moment I take solace in the familiar.

I had a hell of a week at school. My perfectionism was in full effect and I felt panicked preparing for my second and third teaching practices. My teacher and fellow trainees gave me glowing reviews. But last night I bombed completely. Not for lack of trying. I probably spent triple the amount of time on that lesson plan than I did on either of the other two. I was determined to nail it, working out the kinks in my previous classes. As a result I scripted out everything I would do and say in the class, made more than 20 visual aids and handouts, used my laptop as part of the lesson and had a lesson plan 3 times the length it needed to be. I followed my teacher's suggestions precisely. And in the process failed to see that I was trying to pack in too many activities for a 40 min class.

I realized my mistake about 15 mins into the lesson and was so anxious I couldn't change course effectively. Things snowballed and I failed to meet 50% of the aim of the lesson having spent too much time on vocabulary. I knew that my teacher was not going to have many good things to say when he told me he needed a few mins to reflect on my lesson before speaking to me.

I had a helpful meeting with him, understanding what I could have done differently. The first thing he said was, "how do think that went?" and then followed up with "yes, I could tell you were very tense and very much wanted to control your learners." I ended up crying despite my determination not to. And had to laugh at myself when I saw how my old friends perfectionism, need for control and people-pleasing shortcomings have shown up again.

I told my teacher that and actually it made me feel better to see what happened as part of that larger pattern. I can look at it as something to work with. It gave me perspective. Doing everything well is not the point of life. There's no doubt I'll pass the class. And I don't have the type of pressure the other students do. They will all be searching for positions here in Mexico after the course. And if they're not successful they don't have other options to gain income here. So, I'm going to try to put those insights into action. Self-knowledge without deeds amounts to nothing.

I've never been so glad that I'm not dating someone I really like. Talk about no time.

I was looking at the Flicker page of a photographer I know (here's are link to some pic he took of me on a ride last year) and missed home so much. Especially biking. I took it for granted since it's almost always available. No more. http://www.flickr.com/photos/photo-john/2600946518/in/photostream/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/photo-john/2600946520/in/photostream/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/photo-john/2600946520/in/photostream/)

Anyway, I wanted to take advantage of this time to get another entry in. I've got a lot of work to do this weekend. I hope it will thoroughly meet the requirements of the assignment and be completely imperfect.

Peace y'all.

Day 3, Morning in Col. Napoles (Naples Colony)

Sunday-

I took a taxi to a neighborood I'd read was nice and planned to walk north from there through other neighborhoods I want to explore. But the neighborhood was not as nice as I thought it would be. Sort of like Flatbush before it got nice or downtown Brooklyn. And the taxi had taken me over arterial roads I didn't want to be near.

Anyway, wasn't feeling too safe so I walked around until I found this cafe where I'm sitting on the patio across from a small park. Smoker nearby.

So I can call a taxi from here but want to get a clearer idea about where I want to go first. I think to El Bosque (The Forest) of Chapultapec, the Central Park of this city.

Today the interior lanes of the Champs-Elysees equivalent - El Paseo de la Reforma are closed to cars and there are tons of people on bikes. I'm jealous!

I'm beginning to feel a little lonely. I miss my Saturday ritual of brunch and evening plans with friends and family. I realize now I should have called my cousin Elizabeth to get together this weekend.

But school starts tomorrow and that should begin to fill my social needs.

Anyway- maybe today I'll find a gym near my apt.

I want to take pics of typical Mexican houses- fortresses with interior parking and courtyards. The front doors are either built into a solid windowless wall or are simply garage doors that one drives through to park and then enter the home.

But I've read it's better not to have expensive electronics out. I took a few from the taxi...

Later Sunday-

I did go. The park has a grand building. Construction began in the 1780's but with one thing or another they didn't get around to finishing it for another 80 years.

The "Castilo"t sits atop a hill with steep rocky drops. From there a number of teenage military cadets threw themselves to their deaths rather than surrender to US Marines in the Mexican-American War. They are called the "Ninos Heroes" or the child heroes.

The monument is on the site of their deaths. At the base of the cliff from which they jumped are small portraits of each one of the heroes.

Mothers and Fathers educated their children, speaking with reverence, having them repeat the names of each boy so they could begin to memorize them. Mexico lost half their national territory (California, New Mexico and Texas) in that war.

.

Day One, Afternoon (LaTarde).

After breakfast I explored Sears in the same small mall. No bargains, though before I moved my decimal point to the appropriate place I thought there were. Que lastima!

I realized then that I didn't have enough pesos for my cab home and began to walk down Insurgentes Sur to find a money exchange for my traveler's checks. The banks are closed Saturdays I quickly discovered. I was pointed to a few places that were also closed. So, I walked and found a Woolworth's. Shampoo, etc. about a third less than in the U.S.

I continued walking in the direction of my apartment and found I was walking on what felt like the same kind of street as 2nd Ave in Manhattan. Not too pretty but busier with traffic. I ducked into a used bookstore to call a taxi and browse. The section entitled "Self Improvement" had Emerson. I wonder what Emerson would think of being lumped in the same category as works like "Women Who Love Too Much", and "Chicken Soup for the Soul". I called a radio taxi (these are safe whereas with gypsy cabs on the street you take your chances of being robbed or ripped off).

The taxi driver (taxista) was friendly but not intrusive. No seat belt available. I commented on the crooner he was listening to. It was Pedro Infante, one of the most famous singers in Mexican music history. He has a lovely voice, a mix of Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra. He told me that Pedro died in a plan crash in the 1950's when the singer was only 40 years old. Apparently he was a pilot. But not a good one. He'd had a crash while piloting a plane previously and had a metal plate in his forehead after that crash. When he died he was piloting a plan full of fish from the Yucatan. I thought this an odd fact. Maybe I misunderstood him. Maybe fresh fish was hard to come by in those days.

Anyway, we finally found a casa de cambio (literally translated, a change house). But you'd hardly know it unless you saw the sign. It was a shallow building with a marble floor, a low ceiling and small pieces of simple and unremarkable wooden furniture in various stages of construction scattered about. No woodworking tools or machines in sight. I thought maybe the business had changed and the sign had not been updated. But, no. In the back corner was a walled-in booth with a glass window. I approached it and saw no one through the window. I looked down with my nose almost against the glass and below was a young man sitting in a chair looking at a laptop. The exchange rate was better than at the airport.

Next my taxista took me to what he promised would be a nice supermarket. Though I expected to be, I was not disappointed. I found Crystal Light powder in flavors I've never seen at Smiths. Pina Colada. Yum. Horchata. Yuck. They had sugar-free jam and sugar-free cookies in oatmeal and coconut flvors. Great papaya. Again, prices about a third less than in the U.S. My taxista waited patiently and did not keep the meter running. I was probably 30 minutes shopping. He helped me load and unload.

It took some doing for him to find my street. He asked for directions at a gas station. (All the gas stations here are called Pemex, a word that combines "petrolio" and "mexicano" because as far as I know all the gas stations are still nationalized.) I tried to explain to him the joke we have about men not wanting to ask for directions when lost.He responded with a saying that means you can get anywhere if you just ask for directions. All in all it cost about 20 for the 2 hours we were riding around. He seemed very pleased with a 4 dollar tip. I was glad I was generous because he came back a few hours later to return my Woolworth's items which I'd left on the floor of his back seat. He was so nice I know he'd have brought them to me even if I'd given a stingy tip. I took his card and may use him again.

When I got back home my key wouldn't work and a young American named Julie opened for me. She has moved here recently. I think she is from Wisconsin. She moved for a relationship that has since ended. She is right below me in the building. Apparently the walls and floors are thick because she says she plays her music loudly and I can't hear anything. We agreed to tell one another if one of us is disturbed by the noise of the other. That's the kind of neighbor I like. She told me about a street nearby that has good restaurants.

I am not far from La Zona Rosa (The Pink Zone).We drove through that area and it is where the Superama I visited is. I wish my apartment was there. Nice outdoor cafes, lots of shade trees and a cosmopolitan crowd. My neighborhood is not bad. It is residential but not as upscale. The building is very quiet. There's an inner courtyard with tables and benches and plants and flowers. But I can hear faintly the traffic from a busy street that is a block away.

La Zona Rosa reminds me of the West Village. My neighborhood reminds me of Chelsea as it was in the 1970's when we used to visit the Crowley's. Radha Crowley was a childhood friend of my Dad's and we'd visit when we went down to see my Great Grandmother and Aunt in Brooklyn. And when my father's Mother Eileen and her husband Bill (who lived in Mexico) were in NY for the yearly visit they had to make to keep their visas. Those were my only experiences with hearing my name being said by the people around me when they weren't speaking to or about me to speak with someone else.

Now I'm home and have eaten a dinner of frozen broccoli and pre-roasted chicken drumstick while watching a repeat of the "CSI:
Unknown Location" episode from last night. I only get one channel and for commercials they have music videos. So far the ones I've seen have been women singing pop songs about love lost and love lost and found. They are either scantily clad or disrobe as they sing.

And of course, I'm blogging my little heart out, completely consumed by my new interest. An enthusiasm that will likely dwindle as it loses it's novelty, like so many other things in my life...

It was raining in sheets last night. The storm began just after we landed and my luggage was soaked when I retrieved it. The contents were dry, thankfully. The thunder was frequent and loud. But we drove 10 minutes and the streets were dry, not having been rained on. It became too warm for my light jacket by 11 am and then we got another brief thunderstorm and later lost power for 10 minutes.

Well, I guess that's my ramble for now. The apartment is 250 square feet. It's costing me $50 more than I'm renting my place for in SLC. The bathroom is my favorite part. The ceiling and half the walls are glass with glass bricks below.

I lost a lot of Q-tips opening the package.

Day One Mexico D.F.

Saludos desde Mexico!

Its about 9 am on Saturday. My flight arrived at 3:30 in the afternoon
yesterday. I went directly from the airport to Casa Tarami, where I'm
renting a studio apartment. I'd only slept an hour the night before so
I took what I thought would be a nap.

I discovered during my nap that there is a little insomniac dog in the
neighborhood. He or she barked from 2 am to 5 am. Maybe it was a
desperate cry for Ambien. Or just a lonely night in the big city for a
little pooch. Love my earplugs.

I'm sitting right now in a department store restaurant. It reminds me
of the Little America Hotel restaurant with Mexican muzac. There are
almost 200 of these Sanborns stores throughout the country. They were
the creation of two American Brothers, one of whom was a pharmacist.
They eventually sold to Wallgreen (the pharmacist founder of the
Wallgreens chain) who in turn sold to the current holder. He is
apparently the richest man in Latin America.

I was so preoccupied with getting to Casa Tarami without incident and
when I arrived there so tired that I left myself with about four
ounces of water collected from a Phoenix airport fountain.

I woke at 5 just as my dog friend must have gone to sleep. I watched
CSI NY and then CSI unknown whereabouts in English with Spanish
subtitles and waited for to get light. When I poked around the
neighborhood at 7am, the little store across the street still had it's
metal gate down. The streets were still fairly deserted. The few
people about were male workers and I'm not taking chances. What an
unusual morning- calling a taxi to get a drink of water!

But I got so much more! Papaya served by waitresses in floor-length
skirts with pointy starched collars extending beyond their shoulders.

They're gearing up for Independence Day around here. September 16th.
During the Revolution one of the leaders made a Mexico City Sanborns
the rendezvous for his troops. That particular store is now a national
monument.

Anyway, I'm safe and finally, relaxed.