Fulfillment

Stairs in Real del Monte

I'm now able to talk about my literary project because it's finally coming to fruition. It's taken just about three months. I don't know what I expected, exactly, because it's kind of a complex project. My idea was to gather a group of women to do a writing workshop for the purposes of self-expression in Spanish. They would be able to write about anything or in any genre: memoir, poetry, stories, essays, novels, recipes, or anything that serves as a means of self-expression for them. I was hoping to attract women who have already delved into some form of writing as well as those who never have. I was willing to work with women remotely, in other parts of Mexico, but mostly I was hoping to work with them in person here in San Agustín. 

The Harvest, Tepatepec

Here are the problems that arose: Fulbright wanted me to do this project specifically here in the community, though they didn't make that clear until I arrived in Mexico. I had already connected with some artists I knew in Mexico, who put me in touch with writers quite distant from San Agustín, and soon after I arrived, we started working together by zoom. There are four of them, and they are all brilliant. So that part was good. But I could not, for the life of me, get women in this area interested. It is, after all. a very rural area, and writing just didn't seem to be a popular pastime for women who are working hard and raising children and more concerned with day-to-day life than with self-expression, and who can blame them? 

I call this the saint of LGTBQ+

And yet, a miracle occurred. After three months of my handing out flyers and sending them by text to local women I know, and talking to people all over town, including the teachers at the school, a small but fierce woman named Cristina made it happen for me. Cristina is a PhD in Chemistry who teaches at my university. I edited a research paper of hers that she'd translated into English, but that had been rejected because of the mistakes. So, I fixed them, and it was accepted. I considered this, at the time, part of my literary project because at least it was working on writing with a person in the community though the paper was extremely technical. Since then, I've edited two more for other professors. Anyway, I told her I was trying to get people interested in my workshop and she said she'd find them. Two months later I'd given up hope and was thinking of pivoting altogether to just doing English conversation groups, which was not really what I wanted, when she texted me that she had nine women ready to join the writing workshop. We met yesterday afternoon for the first time - ELEVEN highly motivated women, plus more who are planning to attend in the future. We had an amazing workshop, will meet one more time before Christmas, and then start again in the new year; and, since this is a university-sponsered workshop now, the participants will receive credit. To give you an idea of some of the projects the women have in mind: Cristina wants to write children's books about science, and the history of the region, in three languages: the indigenous Otomí, Spanish, and English. Another wants to do indigenous and family recipes in the same way, and some just want to spruce up their writing in preparation for their masters' theses. Others are not sure yet but I gave everyone a writing prompt to prepare for our next meeting to get them off and running. I am completely over the moon. This is what I've wanted from this fellowship from the beginning and it's happening! Oh, and get this, they want to call the group: "Precaución, mujeres escribiendo," which means, "Caution, women writing."  I LOVE IT!

17th Century Convent in Actopan

Another reason I'm feeling particularly fulfilled is that our house is finally getting to where we want it to be. We, along with our landlord, have done as many repairs as is reasonable for the time being, we've furnished and decorated it to our satisfaction, and it feels really comfortable and beautiful. Maybe we've spent a little more money on a house that we're only going to live in for nine months than we should have, but we always knew we'd probably have to do that. Finding a furnished place in this area is impossible and we began to see that before we came, though the dining set, sofa, and antique sewing machine were already in the house. It has been a kind of art project for us, especially since we've created actual art to put in it. Many of the things we've used to decorate are everyday objects we've picked up at the marketplace and put on the walls such as palm mats, blankets, ponchos, and dried chiles and herbs. One of my friends here said it looks like a Mexican grandmother's house, which made us laugh. 

Post Thanksgiving Gathering with Friends

I will admit the house is a little chilly because none of the houses here have heat. We have bought two small space heaters but they only go so far. It's also kind of echo-y and still has only one door, on one bathroom. The other bathroom and the bedrooms only have partitions to provide privacy. That said, if you are reading this and you are at all tempted to come and visit us in this magical part of Mexico, please come! We love to have visitors! You will have a comfy, but small, guest room, with some, but not total privacy (enough to get dressed without being observed at least). 

Painting on palm mat entitled: Time Machine

Below, and sprinkled throughout this post, you'll find photos of our house, which we hope will entice you, and also pictures of some cool places we've visited as of late such as the beautiful town of Actopan, the archeological site of Tula, and the actual Magical Town (that's an official designation) of Real del Monte. There's so much to see and do here, and so much to love. I feel very fulfilled in this place. I hope you will be too. 

Our house: 

Street in Real del Monte

Center plaza

18th Century Church

Monument to the miners

Coolest bathroom in the world

These figures represent great warriors

View from a distance - see the people on top for scale

Pyramid of the Sun

The site of many human sacrifices

Wall carvings

A dormant volcano, sacred to the Toltecs

¡Viva la Revolución!

The Uprising - Diego Rivera

Today is Revolution Day in Mexico so I have the day off. It is also the week of Thanksgiving which, of course, they don't celebrate in Mexico. They have a name for it, though, which is Día de Acción de Gracias, which means, "day of the action of giving thanks." I love that. 

I will be doing a Thanksgiving presentation for the school on Tuesday, in which I will talk about the reality of the impact the colonizers had on the Native People as well as how we observe the day in my family. Then, on Sunday, Jon and I will host an open house for the friends we've made here, which feel very much like family, serving whatever versions of the traditional foods we can cobble together. There won't be turkey, though the bird comes from this area of the world originally, because we can't find one here. Instead, we'll serve spicy rotisserie chicken from a local joint with our Thanksgiving sides. 

So far in this blog, I've talked a lot about what Jon and I do and have done here, about the people, and the mishaps, and the adventures, but I haven't talked a lot about my purpose in being here, which, is, of course, my grant. One of the principal directives of the grant is to serve as assistant to the English teachers at the Universidad Politécnica Francisco I Madero (UPFIM) with the idea of making their classes more effective. I do this by bringing entertaining and useful activities to supplement their lessons, and to serve as the model of American speech and pronunciation. Besides the classes, I give a weekly English language workshop for the students in a fun and relaxed atmosphere, and I also provide a couple of hours a week of English conversation for the teachers and administrators. 

Workers are valued here

This all sounds very official, but here's the reality:

During the first quarter of this year, while I was kind of getting my footing at the university, the teachers I was working with would sometimes, essentially, ditch me, leaving me to conduct the class in their absence. There was no malice in it; they just seemed to have better things to do. However, conducting a class on my own, unless it's a workshop, is strictly against the terms of my contract. Not wanting to appear bitchy, I didn't say anything until it happened so many times that, without naming any names, I mentioned it to my coordinator. He assured me it would not happen again, and it has not. Other than that, the teachers are sweet as can be. They run the gamut from wanna-be rappers to former Fulbrighters. Most are very dedicated; others just phone it in. My job is to never phone it in. My role is to be enthusiastic and energetic, which the students really respond to. Old as I am, I've even detected some crushes among them. Occasionally someone will shout out from the back of the classroom "I love you!" There have also been treats left on my desk by anonymous admirers. In general, the students are fun and funny, while also quite respectful, and I love working with them. 

Teacher/rapper, "Moonly Rap."

The university itself is kind of a pretty campus surrounded by cornfields and sunflowers. Some buildings are very old, some brand new. When I first started there, teachers would give me their room number, and I'd find myself wandering endlessly trying to find it. One teacher was like: it's in building D. I could only find buildings L-Q. I sent her a text message: "I can't find it." She sent me a picture of the D on the building. I was like, oh, that's helpful, and not one person that I asked seemed to know where it was. I don't remember how, but I eventually found it, on the other side of an irrigation canal and through a small forest. 

The "Mexe" Building where they're
always protesting.
Mexe is the native word for Spider

There are also buildings mixed in with UPFIM that are actually totally different universities. One is in a constant state of protest - about what, I'm not sure. The other is a series of fenced-off buildings with communist murals on the walls - I'm talkin' Marx, Lenin, Stalin, and maybe Tolstoy? It's pretty intense, but they don't mix with UPFIM, which is highly patriotic practically to the point of nationalistic. 

One thing that is very baffling to me is the bathrooms. Only one bathroom is equipped with toilet seats, and that's the one in the area across the canal and through the forest. The rest have none. You gotta perch, baby, perch. Also, there is no toilet paper in the stalls. You have to grab it from the dispenser as you come in the door and it often runs out so you better come equipped with your own tissues. Some have mirrors, some don't. Only one has hooks for your purse on the stall doors. The one in the library is the nicest and most modern, but there are still no toilet seats. 

This mural is on one of the walls of UpFim.
The message is, essentially, "hands off our bodies." 

All in all, though I enjoy the teaching aspect of this experience, it's not really the thing that makes me most excited about being here, and I never thought it would be. Teaching English as a Foreign Language is something I did for many years and I don't want to continue to make it my career. Doing so here in Mexico, though, gives me the opportunity to fulfill the other aspects of my grant, those that are, honestly, more important to me. One of those is my literature project which I'll talk more about later. The other is simply interacting with this community: giving them all I can of myself through friendship and laughter, listening and learning. This is my own personal revolution - the thing that is transforming me. ¡Que Viva!

Día de los Muertos, San Agustín Style

Catrina on Horseback

I feel like Day of the Dead is becoming more widely celebrated throughout the world, especially in the U.S., but if you want to know more about its origins and meaning, here is an excellent website. In different parts of Mexico it's celebrated more elaborately than in others. Over this past week, people kept saying to us that we should go elsewhere to observe the special celebrations: a parade of Catrinas y Catrines in Mexico City, an entire city corridor of altars in Puebla, and a huge community party in La Huasteca. They didn't understand that we didn't necessarily want the grand experience - especially not the tourist experience. We wanted to celebrate with and in this community, wildly spectacular or not. To me, it was pretty spectacular.

The Nobles

1600s Feminist Nun Sor Juana

Body Painted Torsos

It helps that at the university where I teach they do celebrations in style, and this was the case on Monday, October 31st. Jon and I got there at 10:00 that morning to see the Catrinas y Catrines contest as well as the altar (also called ofrendas) competition. Soon after we arrived, I was accosted by the tiny lady in charge who informed me I was to be one of the judges. This was news to me. I was glad I had dressed up a bit because I was plopped into a chair at the viewing table where everyone could see me. It was comfortable there in the shade, though I had brought my trusty green umbrella just in case. The festivities were about an hour late to start, but when they did, we were treated to a dance of men and women in drag, accompanied by the specter of death. My friend Arlo, one of the dancers, told me the meaning of this is that people dress in masks and opposite-gender clothing so that if death comes, he doesn't recognize them, and they dance so that they're not standing still long enough for death to catch them. After that, a choir performed, and then a troupe of modern dancers performed to the song "Recuerdame" from the movie Coco. From nowhere, the dancers suddenly revealed pictures of loved ones that had passed. That did it for me. I was a mess of tears. Next came the Catrinas y Catrines competition in which the participants dressed as skeleton figures in elaborate dress meant to satirize the upper classes. I felt bad having to judge them because each one was unique and all were stunning. These students had put such work and creativity into their costumes it became clear there are some real artists at this polytechnic school. Vote for your favorite in the comments! 

Hipster Catrines

Aztecas 

Raining cempasuchiles

The altars had been erected earlier as the students had started at dawn putting them together. Each one represented a different department such as Engineering, Finance, Animal Sciences, etc., and each honored a different historical figure. These were carefully planned, and incredibly ornate - each using thousands of flowers and petals. Jon, sitting nearby, was as much in awe of the magic and beauty as I was. 

Not sure who this altar honored

For Frida

The only problem was that all this time, the sun was rising higher and higher in the sky and the shade was receding. By the time we moved from the judges' table to the altars, about which the students read long explanations as we stood in the heat, I was wilting. I had been about two hours in the sun, shaded only by my umbrella which wasn't sufficient, and we all know how I do in the sun. Also, it had been about five hours since I had eaten, which is also a big no-no for me. I was getting dizzy. I tried to tell the tiny lady that I needed a break but such was not to be. Finally, the judging done, the awards handed out, I high-tailed it out of there, desperately searching for something, anything, I could eat. Damn, I should have packed that peanut-butter sandwich. I managed to find a lackluster snack and nosh a few bites before wedging myself on the packed Combi back to town. I won't go into the details of my meltdown once I got home, but more food and a nap pretty much restored me. 

Flower Market

Death and the dancers in drag

Altar for Francisco I Madero, who the university is named for, in the town center

The next day was Jon's birthday, and festivities in San Agustín were in full swing. The big marketplace, which is normally only there on Sunday, had been going on for three days. There were flowers and sweets and food of every description. Honestly, we couldn't get enough of it. That night we went to dinner at our favorite restaurant, the only fancy one in San Agustín, and had our own celebration. Afterward, we wandered back into the town center to find it swarming with children in costumes, trick or treating at all the different shops - yes, on November 1st! As we were headed back to the house, Jon was suddenly attacked by small children hugging him and wishing him a happy birthday. As I tried to make sense of it all, I realized they were our landlord Marco's kids accompanied by their dad. It was the perfect end to Jon's enchanted birthday.

Honoring Loved Ones

Wednesday the 2nd brought more marketplace craziness, and then, late in the afternoon, a trip by car to the graveyard with Arlo. We arrived to find a kind of impromptu city set up around the cemetery with all kinds of food and beverage stalls. This party was in full swing. We tromped around the graveyard, respectfully of course, and paid homage to Arlo's grandparents whose tombs were piled high with cempasuchil, the huge, orange marigolds that are the centerpiece of this holiday. As we made our way out of the cemetery, we ran into friends of Arlo's. They were drinking beer in huge cups and seemed pleasantly tipsy. We chatted up a storm, vibing on their vibe. My Spanish had never felt so fluid and free. It took us a while to get back to the car because people who knew Arlo (everyone knows Arlo) kept stopping him and, of course, we had to chat with them all. We finished the night off with taquitos in the town center, and went home full of joy and wonder. These three days of celebration in San Agustín were not what tourists coming to Mexico flock to see, but they were beautiful and personal - the kind of experience we will treasure forever. 

Our own little decoration

Jon with local dog

Beautiful People

Let me catch you up on the people we’ve met here. I’m changing the names to protect their privacy, even though I’ve spoken of some of them before. 

First of all, there’s Rico, who is the coordinator I work with at my university. Rico is a person who believes very much in doing things the official way. He generally appears to be very serious, and takes his responsibilities seriously as well. He likes official events and likes to make speeches to kick them off. At the same time, he has a not-so-secret passion for hard rock music. When he doesn't have people in his office, he has his Spotify playing exclusively American rock, from Nirvana to Muse and everything in between. Rico doesn’t laugh easily, but when he does, it’s a big, booming laugh that issues from his heart. There’s nothing more satisfying than cracking him up and hearing that great guffaw. He has taken extraordinary care of me, and Jon too, whom he seems to deeply admire. 

Then there’s Marco, our landlord. He’s a young-ish guy, not quite 40—big and burly and with a heart of gold. Though he’d rather let us do the fixing up of the house, which we enjoy anyway, he’s there for anything we need, and even invited us to his birthday party, which his parents threw for him and several of his friends and family members. There, I had a long talk about politics with his dad, who leans toward the conservative. That’s okay. I learned a lot about politics in Mexico, which is something I’m very interested in, though have no intention of getting involved with it (in fact, my grant forbids it). Marco’s mother is the real gem though. A lady of about my age, she is a talented baker, and creates cakes for various restaurants around town, including, of course, the hip little café that Marco owns. For the birthday party, she made pork with mole (pronounced mo-lay), and a kind of chicken in sauce, steamed in foil. It was all exquisite—the meat falling off the bone and the sauces complex and rich with just the right amount of spiciness. Marco’s parents both insisted that from now on we think of their house as ours and that we pop in whenever we want—which we clearly won’t do without an invitation. Still, the sentiment was lovely.

"Without Gold You Live, Without Air You Die"

A recent friend I’ve made—a young man who is a teacher and administrator at the university—is Arlo. He came to one of the workshops I offer for the teachers and employees at the school to have conversation in English. On our second meeting he casually let me know he was gay by mentioning his boyfriend. I had already suspected, but was surprised he was so open about it, assuming this area of the country, being very rural, would might be hostile to LGBT+ folx. I was dead wrong. He and his boyfriend took Jon and I to a baptism party for the baby of one of his friends, a huge event at this beautiful hacienda, in which we were fed more mole, as well as barbacoa tacos. As we were chatting, I asked him how it was he and his boyfriend were so comfortable with being out. He told me that San Agustín is a totally inclusive place, open and accepting of gay and trans people, and that even the priest of the local church is trans, and occasionally likes to dress up like the Virgin Mary! Arlo is dedicated to taking Jon and I to various places and events so we can really get to know this town intimately, and I consider him a good friend now. The only way in which he let me down is by telling me to dress really casually for the party—which we didn't know was for a baptism. I took his word for it, against my better instincts, and got there, dressed in jeans and my Prince t-shirt, to find everyone in glittering dresses and suits! If I can’t rely on my gay friend to tell me what to wear, who can I?  

Sweeping with Palm Branches

Other delightful people we’ve met include the traffic cop who stops what he’s doing, letting the traffic fly in all directions, to chat with us; the lady who owns the health food store in town who plies us with all kinds of yummy treats; the bubbly beautician who figured out how to cut my curly hair to perfection even though she had no experience with the technique and was willing to let me guide her; and the adorable young woman who sells natural beauty products, all hand made in Tepa, with her bright smile and excellent English. Beyond that, there are the ladies in the shops that call me m’hija (my daughter) even though they’re not much older than me, and guerrita (fair one); the people in the marketplace who smile at us with recognition every time we stop by their booths; the beautiful old woman who sells tamales; and my sweet students who call me Teacher Gina, and vie for my attention in class. 

I adore that every time I, or anyone, get on the Combi (the van that shuttles constantly between the university and the town) everyone unfailingly says buenos dias, or buenas tardes (good morning and good afternoon) depending on the time of day; that the man who sweeps the plaza every morning with a big palm branch always tries out his “Good Morning” on us in English; and that, just generally, everyone is so kind. If we are ever met with a suspicious glance, a quick greeting in Spanish and a smile melts away the frown. 

And let's not forget Pompón and Nacha, the two dogs that live in the patio we share with our neighbor. They're both dumb as dirt and sweet as can be, though Pompón, an Akita, has a bark and a mug that would scare the most intrepid intruder. We've become extremely fond of them.

Pompón and Nacha

Finally, as part of my writing project, so far I’m working with a writer in CDMX who is developing a short story into a play; a mushroom expert in Oaxaca who wants to create a blog and ultimately a manual on edible mushrooms in her region; and a young woman in Puebla whose mother recently died, and for whom she is creating tributes via her writing—all by zoom. I’m working on setting up an in person workshop for women here in San Agustín, but so far it’s slow going. I think it will take off eventually though. 

We, and the people we meet, are spreading goodwill and understanding to each other. This is essentially my job here. The people of San Agustín do it effortlessly.