Felicitaciones Mis Padres

I am trying to avoid using the Pepino Suave Blog (PSB in Pepino jargon) for family and friend birthdays, communions, and the like. Too much pressure. I always get them wrong, even though Mrs. Pepino has a toilet-side calendar of family/friend birthdays, etc. Still, I am compelled to acknowledge Momma Pepino and Papa Pepino´s 346th wedding anniversary.
Yes, today the grandest pair of pickles to ever travel in a minivan celebrate the beginning of yet another year of dilled bliss.
As the middle son, and heir to absolutely nothing of their vast wealth, I can dare to post some marital related Spanish vocabulary (and to refer to Dad as Papa Pepino. Real brave, I´m thousands of miles away, where no sane pickle would go):

• Esposa - wife, handcuffs, or a yoke (like on livestock - look it up yourself)
• Noera - sister-in-law. If you put a space between the "no" and "era" it means "wasn´t"
• Yerno - son-in-law. Sounds like "ayer, no" which means "yesterday no". If Pops has his way, Kelly, it´ll be "manana, tampoco" - "tomorrow neither"
• Tus Labios, Morena, Saben a Veneno - "Your Lips, Little Black Girl, Taste Like Poison". Has little to do with marriage, vaguely with love, but I think it is a neat salsa lyric. Pardon.
• Jamás - forever

That damage done, I would like to wish my dear Godchild, Becca, a belated communion anniversary. It seems like yesterday, Becca. Looking forward, the Pepino clan sends felicitaciones to another bilingual Fournier, Abby, who will be confirmed this month. Que Dios les bendiga.

Los veo,

Pepino Suavesón

Taxi! Taxi! Taxi!

Taxis, and their drivers, are an interesting phenomena for me. You don´t shop for salt, toothpicks, or taxi rides. You obtain them when you need them. When Ingrid and I run short on paprika, we don´t discuss what we are willing to spend on it, nor do we shop around for the best brands. We don´t gnash our teeth about maybe getting ripped on the deal. We just go buy a bottle. We look at taxi rides from the same perspective. It is a commodity.

Why, then, do taxi drivers here, and especially in other countries we travel, work so hard to get us in their cab? If I need a ride, I´ll flag you down. Heck, Talea does is for sport; we have to wave taxis away sometimes because when Talea spies one, she starts wagging her finger at it. She knows that little cab will travel through hell and back to get over to our side of the street. Fun kid.

It never fails. I´ll be walking down the street, and I´ll here, "Taxi! Taxi! Taxi", or a honk as they slow down and approach me. Do they think I´ll say to myself, "Self, although I´ve seen a few dozen honking taxis drive by in the last five minutes, and I only have a block to go, a taxi sure does sound appetizing now after all that honking, slowing down, and shouting. My, that kind of marketing should be rewarded. I´ll hail the next honking, slowing down, shouting taxi driver I see." Not likely, mis amigos.

That said, I´ve learned a lot from taxi drivers. I´ve learned that I am grateful to have finished my college degree and to be gainfully employed. Also, taxi drivers have informed me if I´m getting a good deal on my rent. They´ve shown me how nightfall can increase cab fares an average 234.28%. One dominican driver pointed out that I could count on my five fellow backseat companions to support me as I got out of the cab because my legs had fallen asleep. I walked like a drunk for a quarter mile. A chofer in Haiti showed me (while driving, ofcourse) how to hold the chicken´s legs so it doesn´t flap all over the car. I remember the chap in Mexico City who said, if I wanted to stay in the car all the way to my destination, to hang on tight to the wire that kept the door shut. That, dear readers, and much more I have culled from those fine ambassadors of mass transportation; the latin-american cab driver.

Still, I don´t need to shop around for that kind of help.

Con calma,

Licenciado Pepino Suave

Cantínflas

• Talea was awake by 5:30 a.m. with a five-peso piece in her hand. She was thrilled with the Tooth Rat. I came home this afternoon and she still had the five pesos in her fist. Her theory is that TR gave her a peso for every tooth she is missing. If there were a Hair Rat, I´d be rolling in pesos.
• The sky in Durango is almost always blue, and huge. The dryness, the mountains, and the clear light are as much a part of the scenery as a Clint Eastwood movie.
• I caught some Red Wing highlights on cable the other night. I might be able to see the game on Sunday, if the promotions prove accurate.
• You know who is real funny? Mexican comic Cantínaflas. He died a few years ago, but his reruns are on the t.v. all the time. He has an incredible legacy here, and I can see why. He makes Jerry Lewis look like a French B movie star. Rent one of his movies. Cantínflas´, not Jerry Lewis´.
• Some of the cars here come straight out of road warrior. Missing hoods, headlights, bumpers, and even seats are not a rare sight. I saw a Pontiac Catalina the other day that was identical to my first car (a1972 model) - which was considered old in the early eighties. Same green corroded paint, bondo, and rustolium.
• On the other hand, plenty of new and exotic cars are common, too. There are antiques and hot rods stored in the parking garage of our apartment building.

Muy buenas tardes,

Pepinazo

Se La Cayò

Talea´s tooth fell out. She yanked it before her swim lesson today. It is already under her almohada. She hopes the Tooth Rat comes tonight (see www.inkyfournier.blogspot.com for an explanation). I hope Talea excepts pesos. I hope the Tooth Rat doesn´t linger.

Talea´s smile resembles Leon Spinks´.

Que pasen muy buena noche,

Compadre Pepe

The Who

I have been Afuera De Acción the last couple of days. Sorry, fans. Thing is, I have been spending my Internet Cafe pesos on attempts to update this sillly blog. Notice the cobalt blue side bar to our right. Kind of irritating, isn´t it? I did not intend to do that. You see, I was trying to add Inky´s blog and my school´s blog there so that you could easily go to those sites. Instead, I changed a bunch of features. At this rate, I am going to make Manuel Garcia Gomez Perez, the Internet Cafe owner, a rich hombre, and my site will end up looking like yesterday´s enchilada. Patience.

Yesterday´s Mariachi-fest was an inspiration. Although we saw groups from all over the region, the Mariachis from Durango rocked. I´m looking at a second career as a Mariachi bassist. Kind of like a Mexican-style Entwistle. I´m thinking a Mariachi Opera of Tommy. It all started here, folks.

Talea wore her pink cowboy hat all over town, and to the Mariachi concert. Can´t wait to get the matching boots. We are looking for a pink horse, too.

No school Thursday. Teacher inservice. We are going to be informed of the national educational reforms. I hope the reforms include more teaching hours. Ink thinks my tongue might actually get frozen to my cheek one day. Mom, can that really happen?

Bistec Sabanera (a sheet of steak - its paper thin) is my favorite so far, with onions and mushrooms.

Got to go. I meet the girls at Oxxo in ten minutes.

One Ton Tomatoe Out,
Pinche Pepino

Sombrero Rosado

Talea has a pink cowboy hat. This afternoon we went down to the market in the town "centro" and shopped for hats and boots. Talea insisted on getting the second hat she saw - a faded pink wide brim with a chin lace. She looks great. Fortunately, there is a great variety of pink cowboy boots, too. Next pay day...

Lunch today? I had huevos rancheros, Ingrid had huevos campasinos, and Talea had pollo con papas. My huevos came with a tomatoe suace over them, served on a tortilla, Ingrid´s were like an omellete with potatoes, and Talea´s pollo was, well, chicken. Roasted. Sabrosisimo.

Tomorrow´s theme is Mariachi. After church we will walk down to the main park and watch a Mariachi jam. Mariachis from all over the region will be there. In fact, we saw a bunch of them wandering the market today. One guy almost knocked me over with his bass guitar. Tomorrow night we´ll go to the theatre to watch the annual Mariachi program. I will be looking for inspiration, as Monday night will be my first Mariachi guitar lesson. Rock on...

Espero que todos estén bien,

´Mano Peps

Pepino Sauve, The Mariachi

I am going to be a Mariachi star. Yesterday, my friend Profesor Armando Vasquez, a fellow teacher, invited me to visit his dance/music studio in a barrio a few blocks from my apartment. I arrived last night to find him and his troupe of folk dancers rehearsing for a week-long Mariachi festival here in Durango. It was a fortunate opportunity to see great dancers practicing their craft late into the night. At one point Armando handed me a me a Mariachi-guitar. I started plucking one of the only songs I know, "Froggy Goes a Courtn´". After a lot of laughter, the dancers suggested that Armando teach me Mariachi guitar, and I could teach the dancers English. We commited to Monday nights. With any luck, one day Pepino Suave will play at the National Theatre in Mexico City, and the Durango Baile Folklorico dance troupe will be fully bilingual. I have a vision of myself on the grand ol´stage, spotlight reflecting off my forhead, flanked by Armando´s dancers. We break into Mariachi-style "Froggy Goes a Courtn´", and then segue-way into a blue grass version of "Guantanamera". Olé.

This morning I walked to Talea´s school. It was a pleasure to see Ingrid and Talea on their mourning routine. Man, Talea´s backpack weighs a ton. Talea fans, I took 5,204,982.009 pictures of Talea in uniform, with her teacher, with her classmates, entering the school, entering the courtyard, entering her classroom, looking up, looking down, looking all around, and then a few more. I will try to get them on the blogsite soon. Promise.

Ingrid started teaching English with the upper-elementary English teacher this morning. Go to her website this weekend to see how it went: www. inkyfournier.blogspot.com


This afternoon some of my teacher friends are coming over for choir practice while Talea and Ingrid go to my school to see an exhibit of indegenous arts, crafts, and culture. Tomorrow morning we teach an English class to fellow teachers and family. Sunday we are going to watch the Mariachi parade, and at night we´re going to the Palacio to see the annual Mariachi concert. We received complimentary tickets from my friend and mariachi guitar teacher Aramando, the producer of the concert and parade.

Mariachi rocks,
PS

La Escuela Inky

I accompanied Ingrid to pick Talea up from school today. We were allowed into the school courtyard before school let out. It gave us the opportunity to go over to Talea´s classroom and peek in the window. There, sitting in the middle of a room full of first graders, was my daughter. Oblivious to her voyeur parents, she was dutifuly copying her homework assignment into her notebook. Her hair in poneytails, flapping over the shoulders of her starched white uniform shirt, she was fully concentrating on her task. Her table-mate and good friend Lorena sat next to her, appearing to coach her. Meanwhile the good Profesora Ofelia worked at the chalkboard, scratching out an assigment with a stub of chalk. A little boy near the window spied us, and in an incredible feat of intuition, figured we were Talea´s parents. He felt compelled to go over to Talea and announce the fact. I wish I had a camera. Her reaction was beautiful. Eyes like saucers, and a smile from ear to ear, you could see she was proud of herself. It was good being a Daddy today.

***

Just as pleasing was seeing how much a part of the school community Ingrid has become already. Various staff and parents waved or stopped her to banter. Her personality is universally appreciated. Imagine, tomorrow she begins to help the upper-elementary English teacher. She´s going to own that school by the time we leave. "La Escuela Inky", I can see it now.

***

Today I helped administer the national diagnostic exam to a group of third graders (equivalent to our ninth graders). I took the Spanish test myself and scored 100%. We can assume Pepino Suave is at least at ninth grade level in Spanish. That is more or less my English apptitude as well.

The test appears to be a good instrument for assesment. I saw elements of the national curriculum in most of the content. The problem, I believe, like most standardized tests anywhere, is in the administration of the exam. The day is given a festive air. Students and teachers alike know it means a short, light day. Once the test is finished, everyone goes home. I detected a lot of rushed, haphazard test taking. That isn´t a good way to get a real measure of learning, or lack of learning.

Also, like our testing-frenzy in the U.S., kids get tested a lot here: three national tests a year, plus several school-wide tests, not to mention the tests teachers give as part of the coursework. I´m no pig farmer, but I know you can´t fatten a pig if it spends all day on the scales.

Needless to say, school let out early, and the streets were full of students. On my way home, groups of students would stop me and ask if I was coming with them to eat gorditas at one of the many gordita shacks in town. It was like a holiday. I said no, I was too sad because there was no class today. They know my schtick; they just laughed and went on their way.

Aprovechándolo,

Peppy

Talea´s Escuela No. 10, Gloria Revilla

Tonight I attended the Parent Teacher Organization meeting at Talea´s school. The meeting began at 5:00 p.m. Actually, the principal, three parents and I showed up at 5:00 p.m. We spent the next 30 minutes discussing puncuality and what a problem it is when people are late. By 5:30, the room was packed and we began the meeting. Who won?

I learned that her school, a public school, has around 35o students in grades 1 to 6. That said, there were about 50 parents in attendance. The organization has 5000 pesos in the bank (about $500 US). We spent an hour electing the new PTO council. It consists of a principal, secretary, treasurer, and one representative parent from each grade level. I was nominated, but declined because I am leaving in December. Boy, they know a sucker when they see one. Close.

Luckily, I met Talea´s teacher, Profesora Olfelia. She is a sweet lady. She told me she was worried the first day becuase Talea cried and wanted her mom. She told me since that day, though, Talea has been much more comfortable, and even speaks Spanish. Prof. Olfelia said that Talea has lots of friends, plays at recess a lot, and is attentive in class. I could have hugged the lady.

Friday I don´t teach. I am going to visit Talea´s school and check things out for myself. Maybe take pictures if they let me.

Manuel Garcia Gomez Perez wants to close up the Internet Cafe. He is playing with his pesos. Think its a clue. Good night, amigos.

Don Pepino Suave.

Rare Kind Words

This was sent to us by Mrs. Buss, a dear friend of the Hekman clan:

This should be etched in stone someplace. In case we find ourselves starting to believe all the anti-American sentiment and negativity about our government and its policies, we should remember England's Prime Minister, Tony Blair's words to his own people.
During a recent interview, Prime Minister Tony Blair of Great Britain was asked by one of his parliament members as to why he believes so much in America.
And does he think America is on the right track?Blair's reply --

"A simple way to take measure of a country is to look at how many want in ... and how many want out."

Those are some rare kind words from abroad; if not kind, telling.

Thank you Mr. Prime Minister,
P.S.

!Al Animo!

There will be no school Friday. Classes are canceled because of a hastly scheduled union meeting. For that matter, Thursday´s lesson plans are rubbish; the sub-directora called for mass testing all day; some kind of national assesments (No Chavo Left Behind?). These announcements were made just this morning. Ironically, I just turned-in my long-term plans...

I will take advantage of Friday´s day off by visiting Talea´s school. It bothers me that I haven´t been able to observe more of what happens at her school, or talk to her teacher. I am comforted that Ingrid is on top of it, and that Talea has been coming home more excited about school, but its not the same second-hand. Also, there is a Parent/Teacher meeting tomorrow night. I hope to be more in the loop by the end of this week. Talea is one brave gringita. We are so proud of her.

Our coffee maker (we call her "Animo". Look it up.) is putting out a steady flow of joe. Ingrid and I can cope with daybreak better these days. Less like vampires. I put the instant coffee in the freezer. I´ll bring it out for visitors.

As I type this at Miguel Ingnacio Suarez Garcia´s Internet Cafe, I am listening to Pink Floyd´s
"Shine On You Crazy Diamond". Funny thing, these internet cafes. There is no coffee here, instant or real-time. Just a bank of 8 or so Samsungs and a cd player. Maybe a speaker or two. I guess the music makes it a cafe. As I tap away, I usually listen to Ranchera, Nortena (kind of like country - lost dogs, wives, the drink, cheatn´gringos, etc), or Spanish pop (Shakn´Shakira, Thalia, Julieta Venegas), but every once in a while I get a blast of classic rock. Hey, listen to that: Sarah Maglaclin´s "Building a Mystery". Miguel is getting contemporary. What more do you want for 10 pesos an hour? Rock on, diamante loca...

You ever had tripe soup? It goes for about 3 bucks a bowl down the street from school. Smells like a dirty cow. Ever smell a clean cow? Forever a city boy...

Hasta la próxima,

El Distinguido Pepino Suave

Escuela Secundaria No.1 TM Website

Here is the website to our school. It has some neat features, especially the English Academy portion:

www.est1tm.edu.mx

Sidewalks

I turned in my Chronograma and my Fases today. They are lengthy forms required by the public schools here to document teacher lesson plans. As I have altered a lot of my plans due to being new here, and learning how they do things here, I figured I would get a lot of editorial commentary from the Sub-Directora (the curriculum guru). No such luck. She liked my plans. Now to teach them. Yippy-skippy.

Long-term plans, any plans, are only as good as your intentions to actually teach them. ?Es obvio, no? Yea, but you would be surprised how much documentation in schools becomes mere busy work. I like people to be able to drop into my room, anytime, and not only be able to see me realizing the plan, but also to be able to know why I am doing it. Of course teaching isn´t static. Reality gets in the way of plans. Students aren´t machines. Still, my planning should be evident in my overall program. That´s a plan, not busy work.

Let´s leave the teacher talk for the teacher´s lounge, ok?

Durango sidewalks interest me. They are misnamed. They should be called tripwalks. They are traps for pedestrians who don´t look down. Poor Talea has skined knees and scuffed shoes to show her sidewalk experiences here in Durango. You might as well walk in the middle of the street; but for the speeding vehicles it is safer. In the dark of the early morning, as I make my way to school, I feel like I am doing the tire drill in football practice. Pick the feet up. Pump. I remember selling our first house in Grand Rapids and being miffed that I had to pay the city 250 clams to fix a crack in my sidewalk before the sale could be official. I am a bit more empathetic now.

Today, I saw a car make a right turn from the left-hand lane, turning in front of a bus in the right lane, no less!

You know the gargage truck is coming by the bell the garbage man rings. The truck usually comes between 9 and 10 o´clock at night. We can hear the bell from our ninth floor aparment.

If Talea needs to go to the bathroom at school, the teacher hands her a ration of toilet paper on the way out of the classroom.

My students ask permission to enter the room. They stand up when I enter. When I greet the girls, they turn a cheeck for a kiss. The boys offer a firm hand shake and a greeting.

Mexican pork rinds beat any I have eaten anywhere (even the fresh ones with hair still on them that I bought off a highway vendor in Colombia).

We have windows on three sides of our apartment. Each window offers a view of the Sierra Madre foothills (mountains to this Detroit boy).

We went cowboy boot shopping yesterday. Still looking. We´re going cowboy hat shopping next week.

Lots of Dodge Durangos in Durango. Keep ém coming, Mike.

"Ay Amor, Es Que Mata", by Carlos Vives is currently the song that I can´t get out of my freaking head.

"Quisiera", by Juan Luis Guerra is the song I would like to have in my head. Beautiful. Not his old Meringue/Bachata/Salsa stuff. It rocks. I am told he was a Beatles fan as a kid.

I am off to pick up the Pepino Suave Back Up Singers from their swim lessons.

Cuídense,
Peps

Correction

Regarding the previous entry:

Uh, happy belated birthday to cousin Deniece. May you have many more. Say hi to my Uncle Don.

Aunt Talea, aka "Big Talea", I withdraw the belated birthday. Sorry. Your birthday isn´t belated, yet.

Cafe Instantaneo

We got the ropa-dope today. Padre Andres was a no-show. An old fellow was shipped down from Los Angeles, California to give mass today. Apparently, Padre Andres had to do a gig in Queretero this weekend. He made a liar out of me. When mass started and a guy older than the Pope (the Dead One) walked up to the alter, Ink looked at me like I made the whole Padre Andres-and -guitars-and-maracas-and-jokes-in-the-sermon-and-walking-around like-a-game-show- host-story up. Maybe next week Padre Andres will right this wrong and actually show up like he´s paid to do. Enough. If you want to tour, join a rock band, Padre. I gotta face the family. Clerics.

Let´s move on.

We bought a coffee maker. In yet another cultural irony, we find that Mexicans do not generally drink brewed coffee. No, you ask for water for coffee (or milk for coffee if its breakfast time). They bring you a cup of hot water, a spoon, and a jar of instant coffee. I´m not kidding. The coffee aisle in El Supermercado Gigante should be called the Instant Coffee Aisle, ´cause there are dozens of varieties and sizes of instant coffee, but maybe a bag or two of ground coffee. I tried for the few weeks I was alone here, drinking this Imposter of Moca, but Ink won´t have anything to do with it, and I support her. Its just wrong. We´re going to change this country one cup of coffee at of time. Today we bought a coffee maker. !Viva Mexico!

Talea and I watched Elmo this morning. He is still a heck of a little furry guy in Spanish. His character translates well.
You know what´s wierd to watch in Spanish? Liberty Kids. George Washington comes off sinister when he talks Spanish. And ol´man Franklin is just plain corrupt-sounding in Castillian. The show isn´t as patriotic in a foreign language. Los Chavos de la Libertad. Hmmm...

The weather? Same. Mild, sunny, with sprinkles in the afternoon. Don´t ask unless you want to hear that again, and again, and again. We live near a desert, folks, surrounded by mountains. Think Arizona.

Happy belated birthday Aunt Talea.

Los quiero,

Pepino Suave

Padre Andres

I had seafood soup for lunch. Ingrid had a chicken taco. Talea picked from our plates. We ate at the Gran Hotel Gobernador. The plan was to eat lunch, then swim in the hotel pool. The management told me that was the arrangement. You eat here, you can use our pool. So we did.
We spent the afternoon in their pool, surrounded by a well-manicured garden. We were the only ones in the pool area, as this is considered off-season for swimming, even though it is always in the 70s to 80s farenheit. Just not done. Talea and I went diving for pesos. Ingrid taught us some swim strokes. We read, napped, and jumped back in the pool.

Tomorrow we go to church. There are several in town, as many as there are bars in Hamtramck. We´re going to El Sagrado Corazon (Sacred Heart). Padre Andres is up to bat at the 1:30 pm mass. He and his youth group give a lively hour-and-a-half mass every Sunday, with guitars, maracas, the whole nueve yards. I´ve been to the earlier mass, but its only good if you are in a rush, or if you want to take a quick nap. The old padre that gives the earlier mass just doesn´t have Padre Andres´ charm or energy. Punch in, punch out. Padre Andres throws a couple jokes into the sermon, he walks around the church like an evangelical, and is usually pretty provacative. Still, its a long show. You´d think it was a Lutheran service or something...

El Grito update: Friday night´s independence celebration kept the boys in azul pretty busy. This morning´s El Sigo reported 75 arrests including 27 drunks and 33 minors.
Also, unrelated but of great local importance, the Forestales of Durango beat the Lecheros of Lagunero in last night´s soccer match. Go Forestales! Yea.
By the way, in baseball, the Alacranes of Durango beat Matamoros (Coahuila) 2-1 yesterday, as well. Great weekend for Durangueses.

Que chido,
Pepi S.

Independence Day

Last night´s Grito lived up to its reputation. Downtown was packed with thousands of people, so I stayed home and watched El Grito on television. At about 11:00 p.m., President Fox and the First Lady walked thrue the Presidential Palace. As they approached the balcony, they parted and the President approached an honor guard caring the flag. They shared salutes, and the honor guard handed the President the Mexican Flag. He marched it out onto the balconey to the screams of the revelers standing below in the Zocalo. Then he shouted, I mean shouted,
"!Viva Mexico!", several times. The crowd answered each scream. It was a thrill to watch a country gather despite social, economic, and cultural differences, and celebrate their country with unity and passion. These have been a couple days of unabashed patriotism.

Today, the actual independence day, was a day of parades. We walked downtown to watch Durango´s Independence Day parade. It was beautiful. I think every school in town was represented, as were local and national security forces, and the fire departments. I had the distinct pleasure to approach a few military officers and thank them for the support they lent us in the Hurrican Katrina relief effort. Two officers told me they actually went to New Orleans, and just returned to take part in the independence day activities. They told me it was their pleasure to serve their neighbors. It was a pleasure for me to have the opportunity to thank them personally.
Talea was thrilled by the pomp and circumstance. She really enjoyed the marching bands, and marched right along with them. At one point we managed to watch from a second-story balconey. Talea was anxious of the possibility of mascots (her mascot-phobia continues), but the armed military men didn´t phase her. Once the last of the parade went by, everyone seemed to melt off the streets, and things became real quiet. We went shopping, North American style.

Ingrid is doing well. She´s got her own blog, as well. She is making friends right and left. I find that she is making an incredible effort to maintain conversations in Spanish, even if she is speaking to a bilingual. Tenacious woman, that Inky. Today she made friends with the lady across the street. She owns a combination coffee shop/chiroprater (sp?) office. She can make you a cup of coffee and give you a back massage in the same place! Get this, she lived in Holland (the Europe Holland, like the Netherlands Holland, not the Michigan, Holland) for four years. Ink spent the afternoon figuring out who they were related two, were friends with, or might have know each other if so-and-so... Anyway, its a Small Inky World, isn´t it?

I am enjoying my day off. After three weeks without my posse, I could spend the day just staring at them. Actually, Talea told me to quit staring at her. She can´t fool me, though. Every once in awhile she just hugs me for no reason. Heaven on Earth.

Abrazos,
Pepino Suavesón

El Grito

Tonight Mexico kicks off its independence celebrations with "El Grito". The tradition goes that the president "reenacts" the Grito on the balcony of the National Palace in Mexico City. The Grito (the shout, or yell) actually refers to a short speech Padre Hidalgo gave in 1810 to a small gathering of his followers, mostly indegenous peasants, as dawn approached. Apparently the speech inspired a series of events, most bloody, that eventually won Mexico its independence from Spain. No one knows exactly what Hidalgo said, but he is universally credited for launching the revolution.
One revolutionary, Pedro Garcia, claims Hidalgo´s speech went more or less like this (in Spanish, of course. This translated for your convenience):

"My friends and countrymen: neither the king nor tributes exist for us any longer. We have borne this shameful tax, which only suits slaves, for three centuries as a sign of tyranny and servitude; [a] terrible stain which we shall know how to wash away with our efforts. The moment of our freedom has arrived, the hour of our liberty has struck; and if you recognized its great value, you will help me defend it from the ambitious grasp of the tyrants. Only a few hours remain before you see me at the head of the men who take pride in being free. I invite you to fulfill this obligation. And so without a patria nor liberty we shall always be at a great distance from true happiness. It has been imperative to take this step as now you know, and to begin this has been necessary. The cause is holy and God will protect it. The arrangements are hastily being made and for that reason I will not have the satisfaction of talking to you any longer. Long live, then, the Virgin of Guadalupe! Long live America for which we are going to fight!"

There are local versions of the Grito being held tonight all over the Republic of Mexico. Tonight in downtown Durango, the Grito is given by the provincial govenor from the balconey of the government palace, at about 11:00 p.m. Apparently the center of town is jammed packed with people all night long. I´ll leave Ingrid and Talea at home, and wonder down the the fringe of the activity to get some pictures.

Viva Mexico,
Pepino Suave
PS Talea had a super day at school. No hot sauce stains on her uniform today. Ingrid has her own blog - check it out: www.inkyfournier.blogspot.com

Pedos

Talea had yet another ¨great day of school", her words. Appartently, she had a bit of an anxiety attack in the morning, though. Poor Ingrid had to see her off as she cried. That must have been tough. As soon as mommy left, though, Talea hit her stride. It helps that Moms don´t linger around. Kids do well once parents take off, as long as the situation is safe and routine.
She came home with a hot sauce stain on the sleave of her uniform, so I suppose she is integrating into the culture. Her teacher left some positive comments in her journal. And she is putting meaning to many of the sounds around her. She is also learning that our secret code at home isn´t secret here. She told me she ¨pedo´d" in front of company who clearly understood that she had passed gas. Hopefully she will one day learn what her father has never mastered: keep somethings to yourself.
Teaching for me has gone well this week. My students are at that four week mark where they know the routines and understand why we do what we do. I have seen a few students have those great"ah ha" moments. The golden moment where they see that they are actually making gains in English. I only have a small handful of kids who are in The Land of the Lost. It is usually a simple matter of me not paying enough attention to them. They are usually the well-hidden kids. Once I start keying on them, making them comfortable at the same time, they tend to come along. Still, dealing with those kids (we call them "barometer kids" - I base the pacing of my lessons by their progress, no one else´) is exceptionally difficult in classes as big as 46 students. Normally I would not be so forgiving of myself in a "normal" class of 30 plus. Identifying barometer kids at week 4 would be neglectful. My wide net is getting most of them, based on my assesments.

Daily back-and-forth with my students has revealed that the favorite soccer teams of Durango youth are the Americas, Pumas, and Chivas. They also like any music from Cold Play. I can make any girl in town giggle by saying two words: Justin Timberlake

Mis observaciones,
Pepino Suave

Talea Is Content!

Talea wants me to report to her fans that she had a "great day at school today". First-day jitters are a mere memory. She counts four friends on her side, one who actually gave her a piece of gum. In gym they played the Mexican version of Red Light, Green Light. Her homework was to write capital and lower-case "M", like, 2,345,544.098 times. Then she made little flash cards with her seven vocabulary words for the week. She had no idea what they meant but she could pronounce them like a little mexican.
Ingrid and Talea went to their respective swim lesson/exercise classes this afternoon. They returned damp and content. Ingrid discovered a new way to bid farewell in the evening, "que descansen bien". She´s going to use that communication degree in two languages...
Pepino Sauve is feeling much better, thank you; like a 40 year old who hasn´t run in a week. I mean run in the literal sense. No flu allusion, folks.
Two more days ´till we start celebrating Mexican Independence. Hold on to your seats.

Que descansen bien,
Pepinito

Pepinita Goes To School

Talea spent her first day at La Escuela No. 10, Guadalupe Revilla. I took a picure of her in uniform and hope to get it on the blog some time soon. I can hardly find the comma key on these foreign hybrid computers, let alone perform something tricky. Anyway, she was nervous. Chewed the eraser off the first pencil of the day. The second one survived. I imagine she swallowed enough anxiety and fear to be dealt with years from now when she has her own health insurance.
There is a teacher in the school capable of communicating sufficiently in English to Talea.
Her first homework assignment was to write the small-case "j" a couple million times, and then come up with ten words that begin with "j". Daddy help her a bit with that. She is not too hot about going back to school tomorrow, but she did meet "four friends". Once she finds out that she will be thronged by a cadre of gringo-groupies, she´ll be a lot more comfortable.
Mamma Inky took Talea to school. She is comfortable with the situation, and wants Talea to see it through. She is sure that Talea will do great.
We found a pool for Ingrid and Talea. It is the last place you´d ever expect a pool to be - near a busy intersection a few blocks from the apartment. There is no way to know that a pool is within the walls of the joint, you just got to know somebody. A fellow teacher took us today. A beautiful, clean pool, it´ll cost about 50 bucks a month each for them to swim every afternoon, Monday thrue Friday. Talea get swim lessons, and Ingrid does some kind of water arobics with other women. They bought their swim caps tonight. Yippi-Skippi.
Yours Truly is feeling better. Today, I´d say I felt like an extremely healthy 75 year-old man. It was hard to put the Pep in the Pepino during today´s lessons. I was dragging, but atleast had control of my bodily functions. Things are looking up.
The Mexican Independence is celebrated the end of this week. The place is going nuts with green, red, and white. !Viva Mexico!

Órale,
PS

Pepino Chicks

Ingrid and Talea arrived! Their plane came ten minutes before scheduled. They both look beautiful, tanned, and, well, beautiful. First thing Fidencio did was ask pardon from Ingrid for how miserable I looked. Thanks, pal.
This morning, I took my ladies to Talea´s school. They both agreed it would be a nice walk for them in the mornings. Then, as anyone would do when hosting visitors from abroad, I took them to Wallmart and we shopped ´till we dropped.
We´re going to watch soccer this afternoon. Talea loves her room. And Ink, upon seeing the apartment, kept repeating (you guessed it),¨"Oh my Gosh!". She is pleased. She rocks.

In this week´s entries your friend here in Durango, the distinguished Pepino Sauve, will fill you in on Talea´s first days at school, and Ingrid´s first days spreading her sunshine in la Valle Duranguense.

Stay put. We´ll be back.

P.S.

Pardon the Absence

Sorry for the lag in entries. I have been in the bathroom almost since the last entry. Seems what ol´Pepino Sauve really needed was The Pink Passion, Peptol Bismol (pause for respect). Leche de Magnesia was an incredible lapse in judgement.
All day Thursday at school I didn´t feel like, well, Pepino Suave. I felt like an imposter. A Pepino Sauve imitator, of sorts. I couldn´t put my finger on it, yet.
Once home, I stretched out for a cat nap. I didn´t wake up until midnight. I felt feverish, and my stomach was making that noise that oatmeal does when it get real thick and it is still over the fire. By morning, it was clear Pepino Sauve had left the building. There was no way I was doing my gig down at the Escuela Secundaria. I called my director, not knowing what to expect. Get this: He shows up a half an hour later with the school nurse. As my symptoms worsened into the afternoon (high fever, high two-way output, if you know what I mean, shivers, zero reaction to Jennifer Lopez singing in Spanish - this was getting serious.) the nurse would return to administor injections into my "pompis" (bottom), and give me different dosages or brands of anti-biotics and anti-viri. After three mildly humilating injections, several pills, and three liters of Gatorade (let´s everybody write them a letter), my fever broke, and I felt that I could inhabit other parts of the apartment than the head. Now, we could see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I was nothing more than jelly. I lay on the couch and stared, slept, and then repeated, throughout the day, and on into Saturday. Fedencio came over to stay with me on Friday night. We watched soccer and he drank a six-pack of Modelo. Actually, I don´t know that I watched that much, but it was sure nice to have company.
The timing was nuts. Ingrid and Talea, the "Pepino Chicks", were arriving to Durango Saturday night. Fedencio took my welfare personally. It became apparent that he did not want to present this stinking wretch of a gringo to his wife and child the next day. He was much more at ease on Saturday afternoon when he came by to check on me. He didn´t actually say I was handsome, but I passed for living.
So, here is a hearty cheer to the school nurse-who-saw-my-pompis, the good people at Pepto-Bismol, Gatorade, ok, and Leche de Magesia for whatever that´s worth, and, most of all, to my guardian angel, Profesor Fidencio, owner of the motto: ¨Viernes es mio¨ (Friday is mine).

Iregular pero vivo,
Peps

Gringo Stomach

Milk of Magnesia is called Leche de Magnesia here. It is the nectar of the Gods. After three weeks here, my gringo stomach finally started to rebel. Not that bad, just a low-grade fever and a phobia of leaving the apartment. I felling better already. Thank you.
Ingrid and our dear friend Meeker understand my dilemna. We spent a couple weeks in the Dominican Republic. Part of our stay was in my old Peace Corps site. It was, to say the least, rustic. Regular plumbing and electricity is not part of the Campo Package. Anyway, the three of us found ourselves disussing our digestive systems much more than we would ever back home. In fact, I can´t remember discussing gastro-intestinal angst over dinner, on horseback, or under a waterfall at any point of my life in the States. So, I thought the Blog would be a good venue to continue the discussion. Feel free to comment.

Regular,
Pepino S.

PS I taught finger vocabulary today. Warning to fellow teachers - careful when asking which the middle finger is, ok? Forty-five students showing me the infamous digit was shocking. Special with the innocent smiles on their faces. So eager to please...

Mis Socios

Mis Colegos-
You know, I finished that last entry and as I reveled at the creativity of my errors (I signed off as ¨Piponazo¨. Silly me. A huge cucumber would be a ¨Pepinazo¨. Pardon) I realized that I had not written anything about my colleagues here in sunny Durango.
The English Academy (that is what our group is called) consists of 8 teachers - three males and five females. You do the math. I´d say the median age is 45. I´ve observed that the teaching corps here seems older than back home. A good group of hard-working teachers. In many ways they are creative. One teacher is creating a web site for our students to practice English. Another teacher runs a language program based on tourism. I see lots of different techniques being used by all of them. Its not just sit n´git teaching. I admire them for their effort to maintain English when conversing with me. My mantra, when asked my opinion of things here, is that the teachers do a whole lot with very little here in Durango.

By The Way -
In one of my classes today, the students decided that our main character, M&M The Wolf, had a radio. What did he listen to? Its obvious - Ranchera Hip Hop. These kids get it, amigos.

Su distinguido vegetal,
Pepino Suave

Staff Meeting

The English teaching staff at my school (La Escuela Secundaria No.1 de Durango) had a meeting this morning. Ironically, much of it was in Spanish. Also notable, it was a lot like any other staff meeting I´ve been to except for the fact that a real big guy in jeans and a t-shirt quietly served us coffee and cookies while we met. That has never happened before. A nice touch, in a bizarre way.
We talked about testing, sequence of instruction, and (are you asleep yet?), materials. I returned to my students refreshed with the awarness that there is nothing else in the teaching profession that I would like to do but be in a classroom. Meetings fall in the doctor appointment, washing the toilet bowl, eat your spinach, flossing catagory of Things You Don´t Want To Do But Are Kinda´Necesary, Atleast To Say That You Did It (TYDWTDBAKNATSTYDI). Onward...
I had the ´comida´today at Juan Daniel´s house. J.D. is the boyfriend of Alfonsina´s (my Mexican counterpart) daughter. While Alfonsina and daughter are in Michigan, J.D. is a single guy like Pepino Suave, atleast ´till Saturday, when the Pepino Chicks arrive. J.D.´s mom is as funny as she is a good cook. She taught me that a ´Nico´is new wealth, and ´pochos´are Mexicans that use Spanglish. I´m a gringo or a guero. No offense.

Weather´s nice.

Three more days until my better Two-Thirds arrive!

Atentamente,
Peponazo

El Sol de Durango

The town of Durango is located in a wide valley in the Sierra Madre mountain range. Durango weather is mild year-round. Because it is surrounded by mountains, rain sweeps in and out quickly. Rarely does a rain shower last more than half an hour, and the area is protected from extremely harsh winds. I´ve been told it snows here maybe once every five years. It must be rare, because my kids didn´t know what a snowball was until I mimed the making of one. At first they thought I was harvesting rice.

I´m not leaving here without a cowboy hat and boots.

According to today´s El Sol de Durango:

• Judas Priest played Mexico City last weekend. Whitesnake opened for them. Either David Coverdale still has lungs or maybe a voice messed up by drugs and age doesn´t translate.
• Raquel Welch turned 65 this week.
• The US government has authorized the Mexican army to participate in the rescue and relief efforts for the Katrina victims.
• Today you get 10.77 pesos for every dollar. I remember 12 years ago getting 4 pesos for a dollar.

My favorite song this week is ¨Todo Eso No Fue Un Error¨, sung by Julia Venegas, Paula Rubio, and some guy whose name I don´t know yet. I´ll get back to you. Ms. Venegas has a few songs out there that I like. Unlike many female latin singers, she got a wholesome thing going for her. A couple of Shakira´s video are almost soft porn. I have to cover my eyes:) Thalia does a lot of jiggling, too. Its hard to focus on the lyrics. Hm, can´t come up with any male artists that stand out yet. Juanes has a catchy tune out called ¨camisa negra¨. I saw an interesting Juan Gabriel documentery. He´s Mexico´s Frank Sanatra/Elvis with a little Boy George going on there under the radar.

I had a chorizo gordita today for lunch. What was Taco Bell thinking?

Gringos

The U.S. soccer team beat Mexico 2-0 on Sunday. Folks weren´t to happy with me in the staff room today. The US plays Guatamala, I think, this week.

Que Dios los bendiga,
Suavecito

PD The entry below contains an error. Actually all my entries seem to contain some kind of error. Give me a break, they charge 10 pesos and hour to use this computer. Consider all my entries drafts. Anyway, I said the ´comments´prompt is on the lower left of my entries. That is only when you are looking out from the computer. From where you are sitting, the comments prompt is on the lower right of my entries. Use it. Often.

PD2 Please don´t expect me to publish corrections often. Pepino Suave isn´t made of pesos.

Comments Please

Hey, Friends of Pepino Sauve (FOPS), don´t be shy. This was intended to be an interactive blog. In order for it to be interactive, we have to interact. Send your comments. I promise to respond. This is much easier to maintain than email correspondence. Just mouse over to the little ´comment´prompt there at the lower left side of my entries, double click, and give me a shout. I won´t bite. Promise.
Do you have questions, concerns, boyfriend problems? What mysteries of Mexico can I de-mystify? Want to share a recipe? Rage? Talk to me.
I´m on your side,
Pepinito

Labor Day

No day off for ol´Pepino Suave today. I guess we´ll just celabrate labor by laboring.
My students are getting comfortable with my wacky routine. It consists off learning some key words or phrases, then I tell a story using the new language. I pepper the story with tons of questions. Most of my characters are bizarre: purple plastic elephants, a multi-lingual Brittney Spears (she speaks Spanish, French, Pig Latin, and a smidgen of English), Brad Pitt (almost as good looking as the guys in my classes), Shakira (almost as beautiful and talented as the girls in my classes), and Evil Knievel who jumps zillions of armadillos on a skateboard. The cast of characters is endless.
Anyway, when I´m done telling the story and questioning, I give the students something to read that contains similar langauge as the story. If I´ve done my job well, most or all of the kids will understand most or all of the reading selection.
Today I was teaching the world ´lives´. I told the story of a girl named Shakira who lives in a big house, a girl named Thalia who lives in a small house. The kids offered that Mr. Tim lives in a normal house between Shakira and Thalia. They said that instead of going to my neighbors to ask for a cup of sugar, I went asking for hair. There was a problem, though, Shakira has very curly hair. So Mr. Tim asked Thalia for hair. Another problem - Thalia has gorilla hair. Mr. Tim doesn´t need gorilla hair, he needs Brad Pitt hair (these kids have a great imagination). The story unravels, the student´s and teacher´s imagination being the only boundries. Its a lot of fun, and works well. In fact, my main consequence in my discipline plan is to not tell stories and work in the text books.
Mexican Independence day is around the corner. Flags, banners, and patriotic slogans are all over the place. It is refreshing to watch a nation truly proud of its flag and heritage, inspite of internal struggles, debates, and discord...
Hasta la proxima,
Peps

Editorial

This morning I read an editorial in the local paper by a man named Jorge Zepeda Patterson. He was writing about the response to the Gulf Coast tragedy. In it he characterizes Americans as the type of people who would crawl over old people and children to help themselves. . He managed to link this natural disaster to President Bush, the war in Iraq, energy policy, and the American individualistic spirit.

I find that ironic, as I read his piece while in a country that suffers its own laundry list of social ills, and a migration of its country´s best to the ol´USA. It is rare to get such wide-ranging generalizations and hate in one piece of writing. You´d think he was in either the Michael Moore or the (Not So) reverand (smaller case intended) Falwell camp. When the far-Right meets the far-Left, it all sounds the same, no matter the language, culture, or country: hateful.

Peace from Durango,
PS

Gringo Viejo

I am reading Carlos Fuentes´Gringo Viejo. Fuentes, one of Mexico´s finest authors, writes an account of an elderly gringo who, upon becoming old and tired, bids farewell to friends and travels into Mexico searching a glorious death at the hands of Pancho Villa, a firing squad, or anything that might me more romantic than a fall down the stairs, or a lengthy hospital stay.
The story is actually based on a real person. In 1913, Ambrose Bierce, a journalist in the Hearst chain, left for Mexico in search of a dignified death. He wrote his friends, "Ah, to be gringo in Mexico; that´s euthinasia." He disappeared into Mexico and was never heard from again.
I like Bierce´s quote. Still, I have my own, Pepino Suave, version. I am not looking for a dignified, or any other, death here in Mexico. I think if a future prize-winning author wants to quote ol´Pepino Suave, this might do:
"Ah, to be a gringo in Mexico, now that´s a laxative."
Que les vaya bien,
Peps

Desastre

• A fellow teacher commented to me this morning that, judging by the pictures broadcast on the television, the Gulf Coast looks like Mexico. I judged him to be cynical of his country. He said he was just joking. It was an awkward moment.
• President Fox spoke to the nation last night. It was the Mexican version of the state of the nation. This is election year in Mexico, so the speech held special importance. The entire speech was printed in the morning paper, and it filled almost two whole pages. A major theme was that the Mexican government should serve, not impose. I am getting a handle on the national election. This is an exciting time to be here. Coincidently, I was in Mexico during the presidential elections 12 years ago. A lot has changed since then. Most notably, the party that ruled the country for more than 70 years finally lost an election to Fox´s party. That is one of the big issues this time around - will the the former ruling elite return to its throne?
• I found some apples in the market this afternoon. They were from Washinton State, George. They were pretty mealy, too. Let´s get some Michigan fruit down here.
• As I entered the apartment today, a neighbor asked me why he wasn´t invited for soup. What soup? Why, the bat soup! Word spreads fast.

Pepino Suave out...

El Murciélago

I caught a bat (murciélago) last night. As I listened to the Hurricane Katrina coverage, I went into what will be Talea´s bedroom when she arrives (8 more days!). It was dusk, and I glimpsed what I thought was a little bird peeking into Talea´s room. Just as I was thinking how neat that would be for Talea to see, the creature´s wings expanded to about ten times its size and it start flying right towards me. I am living alone, I regret, and have no one to verify the quality or quantity of my scream, but I do remember hitting the tile floor hard and rolling towards the door. I didn´t fit in the door way, so I had to do a panicked yoga-like manuever to get into the hallway. I slammed the door and then walked around the apartment to think about the situation. I remember our dear friend Chucky exterminated a bat quite succesfuly some years ago. I didn´t have his equipment, though - rubber boots, swimming goggles, flannel shirt, gloves, and a tennis racket. There were some old sheets in a closet in our room. I grabbed one and peeked into Talea´s room. The bat was doing wide circles just below the ceiling. I snuck in, raised the sheet to the ceiling, and the winged rat flew right into my sheet. I balled it up, ran downstairs and bragged to the doorman that I caught a bat. He laughed. I said follow me. I set the darn thing free in the parking garage below the apartment just to show him. People are looking at me differently today.
El Pepino más macho del mundo,
Sr. Suave