Where to even begin? Seven hours of travel by plane, which meant, for Lupita the cat, twelve hours in her carrier, from Portland to Mexico City. That included the two hours we spent in customs in Mexico, getting the cat registered with the proper authorities (thank god I had her vaccination papers – I was told we wouldn’t need them – we did!), then more inspections and more delays. Finally, a porter hauled our tons of luggage around the airport to find an ATM to get cash, and then on to a taxi/van to get us to the hotel. I couldn’t imagine how traumatized Lupita was going to be by this time though she hadn’t uttered a peep, but once we let her out in the hotel room, she sprawled out on the floor and acted like she hadn’t a care in the world. Such a trooper!
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| Main Church in Tepatepec |
Two and a half days of non-stop orientation meetings and events followed, during which I was jet-lagged and exhausted, but they were (mostly) interesting and useful. The best part was meeting my fellow Fulbrighters: all lovely and brilliant and fascinating. Many of us became bonded during those few days, and, though now we’ve dispersed to our various placements around Mexico, we are non-stop in touch through our WhatsApp group.
It was a joy when, on the third day, we finally got to meet our “tutors” the people who were to escort us to our location and help get us settled. Mine is a young teacher with an infectious smile and laugh, named Lina, who intrepidly drove us in a van through Mexico City and onto the highways of the state of Hidalgo. Accompanying her was a fellow teacher named Alberto – another one with a ready laugh and overall great sense of humor.
They left us at the university, in a casita that’s temporary housing for visitors. It’s pretty darn basic. Lina and Alberto had stopped at a convenience store on the outskirts of Tepatepec, the closest town to the university, so we could get some food for a day or two. The only problem was, once we got to the house, we discovered that there were no cooking or eating implements of any kind. There was a nice fridge and a microwave, but the stove didn’t work. I tried calling or WhatsApping Rico, the teacher coordinator, who is kind of in charge of me – moreso than Lina, but we had zero service of any kind. We went out to walk around the campus to see if we could get some wifi but everything was closed so no luck. Jon had brought a mobile hotspot with him, but it had to charge. I flagged down a lady walking by, who turned out to be our savior. She found some security guards who, about 45 mins later, showed up at our casita with a frying pan, plates, cups, silverware, etc. Still though, no-one could get the stove working. Three days later, we were still without the gas tank needed to make it work.
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| The Countryside of Hidalgo |
I had to take a cold shower the next morning because the hot water hadn’t been turned on. Jon and I kind of languished around that day, eating things like microwaved scrambled eggs for breakfast and tuna for lunch, mixed with mayo, on pre-cooked, packaged tortillas. The cleaning crew came in during the morning, spiffed things up, and turned on the hot water. Later in the day, Rico took us to look at an apartment in a town about 15 minutes away by car. I had had high hopes about it as it had one and a HALF baths, two bedrooms, and looked kind of pretty in the photos on Facebook Marketplace. Oh geez. It was like a tiny tiled mausoleum. The worst was that it was down a dirt road next to a defunct construction site surrounded by an electric fence. To say it was dreary was an understatement. Needless to say, we passed. We went back into Tepatepec (Tepa), got some more groceries, and then had dinner with Rico (who is a doll) at the only upscale-ish restaurant in town…but truly, a place that would satisfy any Brooklyn hipster with its ambience and food. The following day we bought hand-made tortillas from one of the many tortillerías, and made our own tacos at home with bacon, (in the micro) cheese and refried beans from a foil pouch. Heaven!
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| Our Favorite Tortillería |
Overall, we love Tepa. It's not charming like a Mexican tourist town is charming; it's charming in the way of a little town where the residents are earnest; the shops full of useful things, though you may need to go to several of them to get everything; and in the way of a true Mexican community: there for its citizens, welcoming of foreigners, striving to better itself all the time. There are beautiful stone and adobe walls, carved wooden signs over shop doors, broken sidewalks, stray dogs that just chill all day, carnivals and festivals, and a bustling market day on Sunday.
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| Market Day |
Friday morning I was invited to join a teacher’s meeting, in which we reviewed four different English books presented by representatives from the publishers. It was interesting, because I’m very familiar with those kinds of materials, but I didn’t pipe up with my opinion until afterwards, when a teacher asked me specifically. I was glad to be able to offer an informed judgement. While that was going on, Jon wandered over to a nearby neighborhood to find announcements for apartment listings. He found a guy to show him what Jon described as “hovels” – literally tiny rooms with filthy mattresses flung into them. Later, we were told there was an entire house we could look at, right next to the hovels. With some measured excitement, we went to look at it. I think it used to be a funeral parlor. It was huge, that’s for sure, but just as filthy as the hovels. In fact, it was just a big hovel. With pride, the landlord pointed to the upstairs, where the bedrooms were, and a revolting mattress, which he referred to as a usable bed. Most astonishing was the circular landing from whence you could access the bedrooms. It looked to be about 3 feet wide—and no railing. No railing. Meaning one misstep, one groggy trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and you would plunge to the floor below and to your certain demise. I am not exaggerating. We fled with hardly a "No, gracias."
(As I write this, five days later, they're here to fix the stove!)
Since then, we’ve just been trying to nail down other details like opening a bank account, getting a Mexican phone number and get started with immigration procedures – all of which are required. And yet, some of this has happened while getting caught in a crazy thunderstorm, ending up without cash on a Sunday when all three ATMS in Tepa were out of cash, and meeting more and more lovely people: from the lady who did our laundry to the guy who sold us a mineral water at a nearby bodega. We’re making friends everywhere and feeling so welcome! That said, I do stand out wherever I go. Jon fits in pretty well, but people look at me like a giraffe suddenly wandered into town. I mean heads swivel. It doesn't help that I am often holding a green umbrella over my head, because, though the year-round temps are cool, and the air dry, the altitude is high and when the sun comes out it can burn. It can also suddenly rain at any moment. The umbrella has been my best investment so far.
Tomorrow we go to look at a couple of apartments, so wish us luck. We at least have a B and B we can stay at in the nearby town of Mixquiahuala (try pronouncing that!) for the next three weeks to give us a little more time.
Abrazos (hugs) from México!
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| Moon Over Hidalgo |
