Escape from Mixquiahuala

Dancers at Sept. 16th Celebration

Last I left you, dear reader, we were headed to an Air B and B in Mixquiahuala about a 20 minute bus ride from San Agustín, depending on traffic. In Tepa, there is barely anything you could call traffic. But once you leave there, traveling for a while along a highway lined with beautiful fields and a view of the nearby mountains, you hit Progreso. Progreso is where we looked at the mini mausoleum apartment. It's not a pretty town and it's always jammed with cars. Then you enter Mixquiahuala, which is even worse. Our Air B and B, as it turns out, overlooked the main drag of Mixquiahuala - loud and congested at all hours of the day and night in a city of merely 30,000 people. The B and B was nice at first glance, then the odor hit us. Like...sewer odor...emitting from the bathroom. Overall, the place was kind of shabby if you want to know the truth. At night, barking dogs added to the general din. At least it had decent wifi, and a washing machine. Sigh. We did not relish spending 3 weeks there. Fortunately, the night before, after dinner at the home of the parents of Rico my school coordinator, at which we had the traditional and delicious dish of this time of year in Mexico, chiles en nogada, we went to see a house that this guy named Marco had for rent.

Chiles en Nogada

Stairway in Our "New" Home

Let me back up. It was Thursday, Sept. 8th. I had gone to the bank to open an account which took two hours. Don't ask me why. I left Jon at our favorite little cafe in Tepa where you can get a decent coffee and a dang good burger. When I came back to get him, I found him yukking it up with two guys who had joined him at his table, making themselves understood with a mixture of English and Spanish. One was Marco, the owner of the cafe, the other his partner in the mining business. Marco told us, once he found out we were looking for a place, that he had a house that had been sitting vacant for 3 years, and would we like to see it. Well duh. So we went to take a look the next day after the dinner with Rico's parents. It's a cool little place, though it was full of junk and needed a good cleaning. We could see it had potential for sure. Also, it has one and a half bathrooms! To have an extra bathroom in this part of Mexico is a miracle in itself. The next morning we went to look at two apartments that didn't even compare to the house. They also needed to be cleaned out, and would need a lot of work from us - not worth it: only one bathroom. Now, let me just explain that when I say the house has two bathrooms, these are two bathrooms without doors. There are openings for doors, but no doorframes. I guess they always used curtains. Also, FYI, though it has three bedrooms on the second floor, they have no doors either. Apparently, Marco lived here with his family until he and his wife split up. They must have been a cozy family until then. Anyway, he moved out because it had too many memories for him (he has at least retained the custody of his children). But wait, the story gets sadder. He then had a relationship with the Peace Corps worker who was here for two years doing the job I have, teaching English at the nearby university. When she left, she had every intention of coming back. Then the Pandemic hit. She had left all her stuff behind which he ended up storing in the house. Needless to say, she never did come back. Poor Marco! (No, really.) Anyway, the house boasts a brand new and very fancy fridge, a very nice new stove, a beautiful, new sectional sofa, a dining set, and the new mattress that Ms. Peace Corps left behind. We decided we could work with that. 

Upstairs Bank of Windows (the green part is a screen)

In the ensuing week while we moldered away in Mixquiahuala, taking the bus to the university or riding the "Combi," a local armada of white vans that provide you with a hot, windy ride if you don't have the patience to wait for the bus, Marco cleaned out and cleaned up the house. Then yesterday, after waiting all day, enduring the odor of the B and B, Marco came to get us in his SUV and transported us and our many suitcases to our new house. Boy, it still needs a lot of work, but we've dealt with worse. 

A few other highlights to mention before I go: Mexican Independence Day on Sept. 16th and a wild party at my school complete with posole and roasted goat tacos - the meat straight from the pot where the goat's head still resided; market day in San Agustín on Sunday when the whole town comes alive with vendors of every culinary delight you can think of, plus clothes, shoes, hardware, dishware, etc; being in the classroom at last with some terrific students and teachers; and getting to zoom with some brilliant Mexican women who are interested in helping me get my literary project off the ground.

Phenomenal Posole

A Blessing in Mixquiahula

Finally, to be fair to Mixquiahuala, the people there are as lovely and kind as can be. We just couldn't wait to get out. 

Under the Hidalgo Moon

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! 

Main Church in San Agustín

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 San Agustín, 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. 

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 San Agustín, 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! 

Our Favorite Tortillería

Overall, we love San Agustín. 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. 

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!

 

Moon Over Hidalgo

Hasta La Primavera

It's time to start saying good-bye, or rather, see you in the (late) spring. "You" in this scenario, is mostly Portland and all the people I love here. These people include my family, first and foremost: niece and nephew, cousins and aunt; and also some dear friends. The family will, mostly, I expect, be here when I get back. The friends include a couple of people I met in my graduate program whom I've become really close with. One is going on to law school this year - here in Portland at least - but another is going into the Peace Corps for two years. With all that change, and me gone so long, I hope will we be able to maintain the friendships that we've built during and since our time in school. There are also a few dear friends in my neighborhood, including my actual neighbors, that I will miss hanging out with when we have occasion to do so, but who will most likely be here when we get back. 

Finally, there's my family outside of Oregon, some even outside of the country, that I don't see very often anyway, but at least a couple of times a year. Will I get to see them during the nine months that I'm gone? Will they be able to visit me in Mexico? Maybe. But we will be in a fairly remote place and it may not be very accessible. Some of my friends in other states have said they'd make a point to come visit but that was before I knew where I was being sent (Tepatepec, Hidalgo - in case you didn't read earlier posts).

Not to be melodramatic, but I feel a little like Emily from the play Our Town as she says good-bye to life: "...Good-bye to clocks ticking. And Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths..." In my case, it's: "Good-bye to our pretty house, to the green, green trees that surround us, to my favorite tea kettle, to my bookcases, to the lovely roses the guy around the corner grows, to Portland's beautiful bridges, to...I guess...a world of abundance and rain and privilege." And yet, that's why I'm going, right? To experience a completely different world and culture: to learn, to listen, to do what I can to benefit the people I come in contact with - to leave my world of privilege for a time and discover the lessons that are out there for me.  

I will keep updating this blog so you can follow along on our journey, but, to my close friends and family, good-bye until spring. Please wish me and Jon and the cat good luck. We wish the same to anyone reading. 

Photo: A beautiful arrangement one of my dear friends in Portland set out for me when I went to visit. 

Destination Confirmed

Finally, after more than three months of waiting to hear where we'll be going in Mexico, Comexus, the Mexican committee connected with the Fulbright, assigned me my teaching post. I will be teaching English to young adults at the Universidad Politécnica Francisco I. Madero in the state of Hidalgo. This is a community college just outside of the very small town of San Agustín, population approximately 11,000. In the coming days I will hear from my contact at the school who will help me arrange housing, but I'm thinking that Jon and I will look for a place in the nearby town of Actopan, which is larger, only about twenty minutes from the school (hopefully, there's a bus), and looks like it has more possibility for rentals (the Fulbright provides a monthly amount to cover housing and living expenses, but it's up to us to secure the accommodations). 

I'm simultaneously excited and daunted by this assignment. Part of me imagined being placed in some charming little town full of colorful buildings and a bustling town square. Part of me imagined being in a rural village composed of a series of shacks with no running water. San Agustín seems to be somewhere in between. Actopan looks like it will be closer to the charm and bustle scenario. Regardless, it turns out that part of me is glad I'll be in a place that's neither a touristy small town nor a busy large city. 

I'm sure it will be a huge adjustment for both me and Jon (and the cat). Yes, we are used to certain creature comforts. I hope that we can learn to live without the things we're used to and enjoy the adventure of new surroundings, new foods, new acquaintances, etc. More than anything, I expect to be extremely fulfilled by the teaching experience, and by the challenge of making my research project work in such a remote area (connecting with emerging female writers and supporting them in their literary process). I think we're ready for anything the experience throws at us. I hope I'm right! 

A Lesson in Patience

Three months of riding high on the anticipation of my trip to Mexico on the Fulbright scholarship has devolved into an exercise in patience. I had expected to find out where in Mexico I was going to be assigned no later than mid-June. It was hard enough to wait until then. But mid-June came and went and still no word. I finally got an email saying that the assignments were taking a little longer than expected, but that we would know soon. Then another email arrived saying the process was still under way and that we would know for sure no later than mid-July.  Now, I'm freaking out. Or, rather, trying very hard not to. I always knew this undertaking would be a bit of a leap of faith, but that faith, and patience, is definitely being put to the test. 

At least we are able to settle the details of getting our house rented and prepared for our long absence while we drum our fingers and wonder where we'll be living in Mexico for nine months. Relatives are planning to visit, friends are planning vacations to come see us there, but we have no idea where "there" is. 

This is a challenge to my ability to remain calm, that's for sure. I'm a pretty organized person, and I like to settle plans as far in advance as possible. Is this experience a test for me? I would say most definitely it is. There will probably be more tests of various kinds once the journey finally gets under way. In the meantime, I pray for patience while I really do trust that it will all turn out exactly right in the end. 

The Moment of Truth

I'd been preparing for this moment for almost a year: a year of writing, re-writing, and re-writing again my personal statement and statement of purpose, answering in-depth application questions, and pulling together recommendations. Then comes the first interview with the Fulbright committee at Portland State. I Nail it. They recommend me to the Fulbright international committee in New York who send me to the semi-finals round. The second interview is with the Mexican committee. I Nail it. Then I wait. I check my emails obsessively several times a day for three weeks.

Just when I've resigned myself to more waiting, at two o'clock in the afternoon on Friday, March 25th, 2022, I check my email for the hundredth time that day, and I see it in my inbox: FULBRIGHT U.S. STUDENT PROGRAM APPLICATION UPDATE. 

My heart starts to pound. I open the email and see the link that will take me to my application. I click it. For weeks I've been practicing creative visualization: thinking positive thoughts and picturing this trip happening. In this moment though, I doubt all of it. "They're going to say no. They're going to say no," is all I can think. On my application page, I see this: A DECISION LETTER IS NOW AVAILABLE. CLICK HERE. I'm alone in my living room. My husband, Jon, is out. My heart thudding in my ears, I click that link. Hardly believing what I'm seeing, I read these words: 

Dear Ms. Young-Ellis:

On behalf of the Fulbright Foreign Scholarship Board, I am pleased to congratulate you on your selection for a Fulbright award to Mexico for academic year 2022-2023.

It goes on for four more paragraphs: all about the history of the Fulbright, how the recipients have gone to achieve great things, winning Pulitzers and Nobel Prizes and everything else but all I can think, through my sobs and tears, is: I did it. I did it. And I hate to say this, but, honestly, I needed the win. I needed to achieve something that to me felt bigger than the acting roles I've had, the books I've published, the degrees I've earned, even the excellent child I've raised, and the loving marriage I've maintained for 34 years. 

I call Jon. I'm sobbing. He's laughing. He'll be home soon. I call my mom. We're both crying and laughing. I continue to make phone calls and send texts, reading the letter over and over to be sure it's real. I still don't know where in Mexico I'm going, but I will be teaching English and doing a research project (more on that later) there for about 9 months, husband and cat in tow. 

Jon comes home bearing flowers and champagne. We make reservations at our favorite restaurant. There's lots and lots of planning to do and things to arrange, but, for now, it's all joy. 

I can't wait to see where this amazing opportunity will take us.