Pepino Perdido

Just a short catch-up for our Pepino Suave fans. Pepinito has been wandering the last few days, and has neglected the beloved, world famous, highly regarded, oft-qouted, never awarded, pickled blog. Oh no, oh, no!
Here are some bullet points, to be fleshed-out later (we have the day off on Wednesday, thanks to the Dead):

Friday - a site visit to a school in the dusty town of Vincente Guerro, one hour south of Durango. Pepino Suave observed an English teacher at the town´s middle school. As fate would have it, the town was also celebrating St. Jude day. St. Jude is a patron saint, so Pepino helped a local family eat the pig they had raised, slaughtered and roasted, along with about half the town. Returned at dusk in time for choir practice. Details to follow.

Saturday - Pepino Suave clan spent the day at good Fidencio Reyes´ house. Fidencio of "Viernes Son Mios" fame, and his dear family provided us with a birthday cake, a great enchilada feast, a wine made of fruit I have never seen before, and several games of dominoe. Oh, and I turned 41. Details to follow.

Sunday - We skipped church (sorry both to Pastor Julie and Padre Andres) and went on a day long field trip into the Sierra with good friends Gabriel, Ovelia, and their three beautiful girls. Talea and the girls rode horses. Gabriel and I got the keys out of the locked trunk while the wives disappeared to wherever wives go when they lock the keys in the trunk. Details to follow.

Atentamente,

Pepino Andariego

Dulce o Disastre

We just returned from trick r´treating. Our little witch scored some sweets Mexican style. Locals don´t go door to door here in Durango. Gangs of kids head down to the center of town and hustle the store fronts for candies. The thing to do is yell, "!Queremos Halloween!" and open your bag in the proprieter´s face. Talea got the hang of it right quick. We stayed close to the Plaza de Armas, in front of the Catedral Menor, and hit the stores within a one block radius. By the time we got back around to the front of the plaza, Talea had a few hand fulls of dulces, and a belly full of icecream.
The plaza itself was all dressed up for the Day of the Dead celebrations this week, which is celebrated on Wednesday. It was filled with families and their little spooky children. The evening was cool and filled with music, the smells of all kinds of delicious food, and people milling about. In the center of the plaza was a two-story-tall altar set up to commemorate Pope John Paul, a recent promenant defunct. In front of the giant pictures of the prior Pope were many items found on the traditional Day of the Dead alter: Pan de muertos (bread for the dead), water, booze, candles, candy, coffee, booze, skeletons, and other neat stuff, plus booze. There were smaller kiosks set up around the plaza that explained the tradition and contained more skeletons, coffins, and the like.
A good website to find out more about this beautiful holiday:

http://www.public.iastate.edu/~rjsalvad/scmfaq/muertos.html

We´ll return to the Plaza de Armas on Wednesday, after we visit the cemetary. Folks tell us the cementary will be jammed with familes celebrating deceased family and friends. Flowers, mariachis, and food are apparently a part of the event. We´ll let you know later this week.

Que susto,

Pepino Asustado

El Ambulantaje

Los Ambulantes are street vendors. They are a common part of Mexican culture. It has been noted that the worse the economy, the more ambulantes walk the streets. It is truly impressive what we have seen and heard being sold on the streets here. Talea likes to echo the local tricycle-pedaling elote (boiled corncob) vendor. As he rides through the streets with a wash tub full off steaming cobs, he shouts "¡Eloooooootes!", then Talea shouts out her refrain. They are both attention-getters.
The particular titles of the ambulantes pertain to the product they are selling. For example, the fellow selling tacos on the corner there is the taquero. Talea´s elote-hawking friend is an elotero.
This is my growing list of items I have seen pedaled on the streets: corncobs, tacos, brooms, jewlery, candy, prayer cards, shoeshines, newspapers, churros, hamburgers (a great local version is called mulcos), chimichangas (sandwich), burritos, molletes, icecream, quesadillas, nuts (sold around town from wheelbarrows. I once approached a wheelbarrow-nut-guy and asked him where I could get some nuts in town. You had to be there), camote, tortas, tamales, and lottery tickets. The list grows, and this is just the stuff that is sold. I´ll save my list of services that are offered on the street for a future entry.

Para servirles,

Pepinodero

Peanut Butter and Jelly

Pepino Sauve Fans, we need help. We need the lyrics to Raffy´s chart-topper, "Peanut Butter and Jelly (Thats What I Like in my Belly)". I done forgot the lyrics and Group 3B, 45 of the zaniest Mexican chavitos to be found in the Guadiana Valley helped create a story today that just begs for this song as its theme.
You see, there was a crow with three p.b.j. sandwiches. He was very hungry. He ate two of the sandwiches and left one behind the cactus. The coyote came along and, hungry himself, ate the remaining sandwich. I´ve left out many details for the sake of your time, but needless to say it is a saga of love and loss.
If you can help us, please send the lyrics by way of this blog, or our email address.

As always, gracias por su apoyo,

El Pepino Hambriento

Fase Uno

• The Mexican school year is broken up into five phases. This week we finish phase one with a cummulative test for each student, in each group, in each grade. Each subject level test is designed by a unit head. Hence, the test may or may not be consistant with what was taught during the phase. In my case, the test has very little to do with my program, so I am giving an additional test this week, designed by me for my students. I predict that my blog entries will be few during the next week as I will be grading tests, eating, sleeping, and grading tests, then repeating.
• Mom and Dad´s Florida estate appears to be only slightly damaged, according to reports today. They plan on arriving late this week.
• The Dominican Republic, my former Peace Corps site, and our destination for a couple of weeks last summer, sustained substantial rain and flood damage from the storm surge.
• Southern Mexico is struggling with food and water shortages and looting in the aftermath of Wilma.
• On a different note, the Durango Lobos Grisis were knocked out of the playoffs in the quarter- final round against Mexacali. Our neighbors will be home by Thanksgiving.
• I arrived home today to find Talea romping around in her Halloween costume. The little witch will participate in Halloween here. Apparently, there is some trick 'er treating here, too (Dulce o Dolor). Ingrid plans on taking her to the American school on Friday for some haunting.
• Day of the Dead paraphenalia is appearing in stores around town. We are really looking forward to next week´s Mexican tradition. Stayed tune for the blog entry.

Àndale Gueyes,

Don Pepi

Wilma

• A constant undertone of our Fulbright experience has been hurricanes. In August, I hustled home from my first week of teaching to watch coverage of Katrina. Earlier this month we watched the sad aftermath of wind and floods in southern Mexico. Late last week, Wilma made landfall in and around Cancùn, reducing it to anything but a tourist area. I awoke this morning to turn on CNN and see if Wilma had struck Florida yet. Sure enough, at 5:15 a.m., I watched as the eye of the storm was just coming ashore.
• I wondered it those CNN reporters feel as silly as they look standing in a storm. With all the technology we have at hand, I don´t know that warm bodies in the middle of natural disasters are really neccesary. Makes for great viewing. I laughed as I saw the one guy try to keep his hat on his head while hanging on to a sign post. What a way to make a living.
• Mom and Dad´s sprawling retirement complex, the "Testament to Tin", is going to get pretty battered, we´re sure. Most of the reports coming out of Florida seem to be from around the Tamiani Trail area. Los Padres are lodged safely in Washington D.C., and are being hosted by their oldest son, and heir to what is left of the trailer. Rock, his lovely wife Lori, and their three incredibly beautiful children (remember Uncle Tim when he is old) are enjoying an extended visit with our beloved parents (I´ll never give up).
• We watched Chicago take Houston in Game 2 of the World Series. The Spanish ESPN station broadcast it here. What a thrilling 9th inning.
• Last night the Pepino Suave clan was invited out to dinner by Rosi and Karina, two fellow teachers of P.S. We were treated to a wonderful seafood meal in a popular spot north of town. There was live music onstage, as well as roaming Mariachis that went from table to table taking requests. Someone* told the management that Talea and I were celebrating birthdays this week, so we had to wear silly hats while the restaraunt, staff and diners, sang "Las Mañanitas" to us. Once the song was over, I was forced to drink a shot of taquila while the crowd roared in approval. When in Rome, er Durango...

Los vientos sì soplan,

Huracán Pepino

*Loose-Lips Inky

Talea´s Party

Talea´s birthday party was a success. Her three girlfriends, plus two of their cousins, arrived within an hour of the appointed time (not bad for these parts). We ate hotdogs, chips, and sucked down pop near the bowling alley. Talea and friends insisted that her head should be smushed into the cake, or it was no kind of party. They shoved her head into the pastry, and she came up shreiking with laughter and covered in icing. The party had begun.
The party organizers, young employees of Durango´s premier (well, its only) movie theatre, took the gaggle of girls to the Spong Bob piñata. I recruited some of my students who were hanging around the theatre to come, too, and help sing. The girls and my charges proceded to accost the sea creature with a stick until he was disembowled and laying in crepe-paper shreds. As the girls dashed for the candy, I caught the cleaning ladies sneeking sweets with their brooms; pretending to be doing their job while committing larceny. Always a child at heart, I guess.
After the Spongacide, the girls, fueled by murder and refined sugar, played arcade games for a couple hours and got amazingly over stimulated. Talea at one point got "lost" in a jungle gym and had a melt down that would make Jim Carry´s acting seem subtle. She peered out of a shark´s mouth at the top of the structure and wailed, "I´ll never get out of here! I´ll never get out of here!" She got out of there. And returned. Three times.
Ingrid and I had mixed feelings. We were happy that we were able to put aside our disdain for places like this, and let our child have a good time. On the other hand, we were digusted with ourselves for letting our child have a good time in a place like this.
Talea rated this one of her best birthdays of "all time", but then listed all the friends back home she would have liked to invite. Oh, well.

Felicitaciones,
Pinball Pepino

PS Linda, your package got here right on Talea´s birthday. Great timing, heh?

Discada

Ingrid, Talea, and I teach a language class at my school every Saturday morning. The class was initially offered for fellow teachers and their families, but has expanded by way of word-of-mouth. This morning we taught our class as several other rooms on the campus were offering other classes: parent-teacher organization meetings, adult education, various clubs, etc. It made for a lively atmosphere on a very pretty morning.
As class ended one of the maintainance guys, a friend of mine, came to take us to the back of the school, where the maintanence buildings are located. He said they were preparing a "comida" and the director had invited us. What a stroke of luck. When we arrived, all the maintainance guys were huddled around what looked like my Webber b.b.q. filled with meat instead of charcoal. The meat was being heated by a propane-fueled flame located just under the make-shift b.b.q. The head chef, Felix, told us that it was called a "disco" and that the food traditionally cooked within is called "discada". The disco is actually an old disc-plow blade. Being resourceful by nature, campasinos (country folk) will use the discs for cooking when not needed in the field, hence this traditional dish called discada.
According to Felix, discada contains these ingredients: about a kilo each of chorizo (spicy sausage), ham, bacon, beef, and about a half kilo each of tomatoe and onions, then jalapinos, salsa chipotle, salt, and beer to the cook´s taste. It fed a dozen of us, including Talea, with a ton of leftovers.
After eating we went to the makeshift handball court hidden in one of the maintainance sheds. We watched some teacher friends work off the discada while playing a best 3 of 5 .

Sobrosísima,
P.S.

Feliz Cumpleaños Talea

Talea woke up real early this morning. I had hardly began eating my cornflakes. She pattered out into the hallway rubbing her eyes and muttering happily, "I´m seven years old."
Last night Talea and I delivered Ingrid´s home-made birthday cupcakes to her many friends in the neighborhood. The old guy at the laundry, Don Felix, was so impressed that he called Talea over to the soda cooler and had her pick out any pop she wanted. She picked out a grape soda (pop, Fourniers) and said to him, "Muchisimas gracias." The two girls at the papeleria were more enchanted with Talea´s generousity than with the cupcakes themselves. They begged her to come back today (surely to receive a hand-made gift). The apartment watchman even said, "Happy birthday to you."
Tonight we celebrate with her pals, a piñata, and two hours of loud, bright arcade games. More to follow...

Welcome to the Jungle

• There are no bells at my school. Passing time is signaled by music played over loudspeakers throughout the campus. The normal menu is salsa, bolero, raggaetone, and, most frequently, latin pop. The keeper of the music, a lady named Cukis (sounds like "cookies") tipped her cap to me by playing only American music today. Throughout my day I heard Guns N´Roses "Welcome to the Jungle", Queen´s "We Are the Champions", The Eagles "Hotel California", and Gary Wright´s "Dream Weaver". I felt honored and, at the same time, out of place.
• You might have noticed that my previous entry received a ton of comments. That is directly related to the fact that I introduced my students to the blog yesterday. I took five of my eight groups to the computer lab and showed them how they could not only read my reflections on their school, town, and country, but that they could communicate, via comments, with my students back home. Well, they took to my suggestion with a passion. Only group 3B abused the opportunity; theirs are the comments that include Spanish groserias (off-color langauge). You may brush up on your street Spanish among the many other services this blog provides.
• Talea´s birthday is tomorrow. She has done a wonderful job of making sure I don´t forget.
• Yesterday we spent the evening at little park near Talea´s school. Ink and I sat on a bench and chatted with locals while Talea played with school chums on a playscape that would make a U.S. trial lawyer lather at the mouth (the 25 foot slide was made of cement).

Hasta luego,

Papà Pepino

Pozole

• Pozole is my new favorite Mexican food. It is a soup with either chicken or pork. There are huge grains of blanched corn, a tomatoe broth, and it is usually topped with lettuce, tomatoe, and maybe a radish. Juan Daniel´s mom made a pot of pozole for us today. Ingrid and I enjoyed the nasal-clearing soup, and I rank it a notch above Bistec Sabana, the thin cut of steak that used to top my list.
• It is getting cold in the mornings here. Today I had to keep my shirt sleeves rolled down, brrrrr. Eat your heart out, Michigan, and save my leaves ´till spring.
• Talea´s birthday is four days away, and I can´t seem to get her mind off a doll for a present. A mounted scorpion, a horse shoe, a bag of pork rinds; none of these gift ideas of mine change her mind. I have a few days to work on her...

Órale Carnales,

P.S., para servirles

El Fin de Semana

This weekend was action-packed:
Friday night Ingrid and I invited Rosaria, a fellow teacher, to our apartment to watch Amor En Costodia. We even let Talea stay up and watch the titilating program with us. Ingrid covered Talea`s eyes during the kissing scenes, which means Talea saw only half of the soap opera. The other half consists of men or women crying, or cursing, or crying and cursing. If we make this a routine, Talea is going to leave this republic melencholy, and with a vocabulary of a Mexican sailor.
Saturday we visited Anna, a fellow teacher, at her house on the other side of town. Ana is a great lady, full of wonderful stories of Durango past. She lives in a large, old house that she shares with her daughter and mother-in-law. After our visit, we walked a few blocks to Parque Guadiana. It is such a huge park that we only visited part of it. Still, it was so beautiful, with so many things to do, all three of us agreed to come back more often. The public park is full of trees, landscaped areas, ponds, playscapes, vendors, and families.
Saturday night we went to a professional basketball game. We received four v.i.p. tickets from some ballplayers that live in our building (one is from Mississippi, the other two from Texas. Nice, polite guys, they make a great impression of Americans on and off the court). We invited Juan Daniel, a friend of ours, and spent an exciting evening cheering Durango´s Lobos Grises as they challenged Chihuahua´s Lobos in the season´s last game. Although Durango lost by just two points, it was a fantastic match to watch. The most impressive part of the night, though, wasn´t so much the game, but Talea´s transformation from a mascot-phobic crybaby, to a mascot-bullying hyper-fan. By the second period, Talea was so caught up in the game, she shouted to the wolf mascot to get out of her way. He did.
I guess we´ll be going to more public events now.
On Sunday, Ingrid`s gringa belly returned, so she stayed home while Talea and I went to church. By the time we returned, Ingrid felt better, and we went to visit the rancho of friends of ours. The rancho, or weekend home, is located about 70 kilometers south of Durango, near a town called Nombre de Dios. Apparently Nombre de Dios was the first Spanish Settlement in the state of Durango, soon abandoned for the silver-rich mountains of what is now the town of Durango. The area is semi-arid, so a lot of cactus is combined with little other vegetation. We saw a turantula near the house, and we were told that wild cats roam the hills. The house is at the site of a natural spring. Cold, pure water runs through the property, and we spent the afternoon eating, drinking and playing with the family and friends of our good friend Clara.

Feliz lunes,

Pepino Suave Out

Chiclets

This morning as I fixed my hair (what?) I watched Talea as she wiggled her remaining incisor. She was quiet, concentrating at her task. All of a sudden her head jerked and she let out a yip. She ran around the apartment yelling, "I lost my tooth! I lost my tooth!"
Once her feet returned to the ground, she tucked the chiclet under her pillow. Talea aims to score a peso from the Tooth Rat by daybreak.
She resembles a smiling Leon Spinks.

Atentamente,
El Papá de Talea

Vomito

News flash, Pepino Suave fans: the world´s best throw-up story ever told is at your very finger tips. Simply click on the¨Inky Fournier" link to your right and read her entry from yesterday. It is certain to be a classic in vomit-lore.
Remember when ol´Pepino Suave documented his spleen-wretching experience in this blog back in early September? As sick a pepino as I was, my experience was not as mobile, public, or humiliating as lovely Inky´s.
Beware, dear reader, enjoy her words between meals. She is graphic.

Cien por ciento sano,
El Pepino Más Chido

A Day In The Classroom

My watch shows 7:24 a.m. The punch clock on the teacher´s lounge wall reads 7:20 a.m. The music blaring from the campus loudspeakers confirms the punch clock and prompts the herd of adolescence to gallop toward their classrooms while shouting greetings to friends and teachers.
I dodge through the cross traffic and reach my room. The light welcomes me in from the dark, cool morning. I settle my back pack on the grey metal teacher´s table and organize my materials as I wait for the students to settle in. Voices compete with each other and are distorted by the roaring of dozens of metal desks scraped across the floor as students organize themselves for almost 6 straight hours in this same room. When I´m ready, I stand in front of the 40-plus students with one hand held high. This signals most of the students to look and listen. The rest (usually) focus in once I begin my lesson in a quiet voice.
I begin with any one of many silly kinestetic activities. Sometimes I have them raise a hand and repeat a crazy pledge that I invent ("I promise to bring Mr. Tim chocolate every other Tuesday, and marshmellows the first Friday of every month. So help me Brittney Spears"). English Aerobics is a favorite. They repeat my karate-like jumps, twists, and turns as I shout the alphabet. When I stop they shout words that begin with the last letter I shouted. Sometimes we just do finger exercises. We might raise the index, or the ring, and do finger stretches or finger bends, depending on our mood.
That done, I get into the lesson. Depending on the day (each of my 11 groups get 45 minutes of ESL, 3 times a week) I either introduce vocabulary, present a story, or do a play. These activites are broken up by games, songs, or textbook activities, all depending on the attention span and discipline of the group. I like to stay away from the text as much as possible. Songs and games I enjoy, as do the kids, but they don´t offer a lot of learning. They are good for practice, and maintaining interest.
The heart of my program is storytelling. From a well told story, I can easily get the repition and comprehension my students need to acquire English. I don´t tell a story as much as ask it. Every detail of the story I follow with at least 5 questions. Often the kids offer details. I choose to include their details or not depending on what vocabulary or structures we are focusing on. A portion of a story might sound like this:
"There is a big rabbit. Is there a rabbit or a big elefant? Is there a big elefant? Is there a big rabbit? Is there a big rabbit or a small rabbit? Yes, the rabbit is big. Is the rabbit small?"
and so on... I continue, varying the questions with each detail. I know I need to slow down, or back up, if I get few (or no) student responses.
An example of one of our recent storeis, without the questions:
There is a girl. Her name is Hillary Duff. She is pretty, but not as pretty as the girls from Durango. She has a problem. She needs a turtle. She goes to Brad Pitt. He has lots of turtles. He is intellegent, but not as intellegent as Durango boys. Brad gives Hillary a turtle. She yells, "Oh no, oh, no" and throws the turtle at Brad´s head. She yells, "That is a blue turtle. I need a purple turtle with an orange head!" She cries, and cries, and cries. Brad doesn´t cry. He likes the turtle on his head.
After 45 minutes of this, the music blasts from the loud speakers, cueing me to move on . I pack up, wave to the group, and stumble on to my next group of students. Most days I have between 7 and 8 groups of kids, with no scheduled passing time. There is a twenty minute break after the first 4 groups, which I spend happily socializing with fellow teachers, or gaggles of students on the park benches in the shade, or between buildings in the patio.
Once the last class departs, I punch-out with the other 80-some teachers in the teacher´s lounge and head for home. On the walk home I may encounter students, their parents, or other regulars on my route. It is common to stop and chat for awhile. It is more of a straggle than a walk home. No rush; time isn´t always measured by a clock here. Often it is measured by what you are doing or who you are doing it with. On that note, I am going to sign of and be with my family.

Nos vemos en clase, Cuates,
Pepazo

Mi Mochila

I walk all day. I walk from home to work, about 3/4 of a mile. I walk from class to class, between four buildings. I walk to shop, I walk to pick-up Talea from swim class, and I walk her home. I walk to Juan Diego Rocío Ramirez´Internet Cafe, and sometimes I walk the laundry over, or back, or both. I walk a lot.
My constant companion on these pedestrian journies is my backpack. My back pack puts Dora the Explore´s to shame. Why, it doesn´t just carry a silly singing map and a telescope. The green nylon pack with a leather base is a sturdy vessel for my daily essentials. The front pouch contains a slender roll of toilet paper, a handful of mechanical pencils, a couple of pens, two dry-erase markers, Mom´s leather-bound pocket New Testament that Uncle Bill gave her years ago, a Modelo bottle cap, half a pack of breath mints, my keys, a photo of Ingrid and Talea smiling broadly, and a card with the directions to my apartment.
The main compartment contains a bottle of water, my lesson plan binder, my attendance folder, two text books, a paperback copy of Columbus by Ignacio Solares (not a big Gringo fan), a couple of fly-swatters (Not for swatting flies. Ask one of my students. They can explain), a laminated picture of Bob the Gorilla with an "I voted" sticker on his chest (again, ask a student). Occasionally the main compartment shelters various props we use in class: fake glasses with the nose, mustache, and eyebrows attached, rubber ducks, hard candy, plastic snakes, assorted fake insects of various sizes, and other key tools of instruction. All told, it is about six pounds of educational savvy, technology, and, well, shamelessness.
On weekends my back pack might carry a picnic, or a beverage kit (ask a Fournier brother). In the evernings: the newspaper, Oxxo purchases (usually gatorade and pork rinds, maybe the occasional chocolate bar) or last minute Gigante groceries.
My back pack is at home strung across a shoulder. In fact, when I do leave home with out it a momentary panic strikes as I swat my shoulders feeling for it.
Yes, they say teaching is a solitary pursuit. Well, from where I stand, I´ve got a partner in the classroom, and on the road. My trusty, dusty backpack is my satchel of comradery. My little sack of home.
Hey, ol´Pepino Suave is going to sign off for now. I´m going to grab my bag, say "buenas noches" to Juan Diego Rocío Ramirez, toss him a few pesos on the way out, and shuffle back to the hacienda.

Que duerman con los ángeles,

Pepinato

Pirámides de Teotihuacan

Let me back up a couple of days. Pepino Suave fans around the world are scratching their heads. Millions of emails ask the same question, "Where did the Pepino clan spend Saturday in Mexico City?" Why, today`s entry will answer that burning question, and so many more:

Early Saturday morning we were met at the hotel by our friend Elsa, her two lovely daughters, a son-in-law, a cousin-in-law, his wife, and child. Our entourage left for the Teotihancan Pyramids (TP). Before you read further, repeat "Teotihacan Pyramids" five times. Bet you can´t.
The TP is located about 25 miles north-east of the city. It contains the ruins of the ancient Aztec civilization that the Spanish explorers stumbled upon some five hundred years ago. For more information, go to: http://www.mexicocity.com.mx/teoti_i.html
We spent the morning climbing the pyramids, walking amongst streets and building constructed thousands of years ago. Elsa and her family were wonderful tour guides. They were very well informed about their national heritage.
Once it began getting hot, our hosts took us for the mid-day "comida" at a nearby restaurant. The restaurant is a great attraction, not just because of its location near the ruins, but because it is housed in a giant cave. After dinner a series of Mexican folk dances were performed on a stage in front of us. The dances represented different regions of Mexico, and various periods of time in its history.

I´m late for class.

Hablamos despuès,
Pepino "Piràmides" Suave

Llegamos

We´re back in Durango. Durango City. El Pueblo de Durango. Durango, Durango. Durango Town.

We arrived this morning at más o menos 6:00 a.m. The bus pulled into the station after an over-night 12 hour drive from Mexico City. We taxied the rest of the way home, entered the apartment, dropped our bags, and crashed for a couple of hours. We´ve been spending the rainy day getting ready for the week - homework, class planning, cereal eating, movie watching, lazy Sunday. Talea stayed in her pijamas all day long. As we watched this afternoon´s movie in Spanish, she kept blurting out, in Spanish, comments to the actors. It was a blast.


Mexico City was wonderful, and Saturday´s journey was the cherry on top of the nieve, güey. Pepino S. will fill you in on that, and so much more, in tomorrow´s exciting entry. Stay tuned.

Nos vemos, cuates,

Pepinito

La Ciudad de Mexico

Today Mexico City resembles London; it is cool and raining. It is raining a lot. I mean, this isn´t Durango weather. We´re ready to go back to the desert.

This morning´s conference was good as far as catching up on sleep goes. Some embassy folk took us to the embassy library so that we could listen to a talk about libraries. I was on the edge of my seat (´cause I kept slipping off). Diplomats...

After the conference the fun hit the fan. Our group, families included, boarded a van and drove to Xochimilco. Xochimilco is the Venice of Mexico. Our whole gang jumped on a colorful gondola and we cruised thrue the ancient canals. Floating Mariachi bands and vendors sailed by us pitching their services or wares. It was a riot. Talea drank apple soda and waved at passing gondolas like royalty. See http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/412 for more information about Xochimilco.

We left late afternoon and headed for La Hacienda, an elegant restaurant housed in an old - you guessed it -hacienda. We ate great Mexican food and played in the patio. Swans, geese, and peacocks ran the grounds.

Tonight we´re crashing at the hotel. Tomorrow we are going to hang out with our friends Elsa and Yanni. They lived in Grand Rapids for awhile and have now returned to their home in Mexico City. We´ll see the pyramids, maybe a few other sites, and then head to the bus depot for the overnight drive back to Durango.

Talea is very pleased tonight because she is having a sleep-over with a friend she met here. The little girl is a daughter of a fellow teacher here and she is six years old, too. She will be spending the night with us in the hotel. We have a happy couple of girls with us.

The rain stopped. I´m going around the block to the Oxxo for a paper and pork rinds. The girls aren´t asleep, yet.

Saludos desde Mexico City,

Peps

Wikipedia´s Mexico City

Thanks to the fine people at Wikipedia ("The Free Encyclopedia"), I can provide you some information about our destination for the next few days:

Mexico City (Spanish: Ciudad de México) is the name of a megacity located in the Valley of Mexico (Valle de México), a large valley in the high plateaus (altiplano) at the center of Mexico, about 2,240 metres (7,349 feet) above sea-level, surrounded on most sides by volcanoes towering at 4,000 to 5,500 metres (13,000 to 18,000 feet) above sea-level.
Mexico City was originally a municipality founded in 1521 by Cortés on the ruins of Tenochtitlan, the capital of the Aztec Empire, in the middle of the now drained Lake Texcoco. The municipality was abolished in 1928, and the name "Mexico City" can now refer to two things.
Officially, the name Ciudad de México is used by the Distrito Federal (D.F.). The D.F. is a federal district serving as the capital of Mexico and which is administered by the Mexican Federal Government. The D.F. encompasses the historical center of Mexico City, but is much larger than the historical municipality of Mexico City abolished in 1928. The urbanized area of Mexico City covers only the north of the D.F., while the south of the D.F. is made up of rural areas and mountains. Although the D.F. is not a municipality, the name Ciudad de México is used by Mexican authorities as a synonym for Distrito Federal (such as in Article 44 of the Mexican Constitution).
In a broader meaning, "Mexico City" refers to the whole metropolitan area of Greater Mexico City. The metropolitan area extends beyond the limits of the D.F. and encompasses tens of independent municipalities located in the State of México (Estado de México), to the north, east, and west of the D.F., extending as far north as the State of Hidalgo. The population of the entire metropolitan area in 2005 is estimated between 18 and 22 million inhabitants (depending where the limits of the metropolitan area are set). This means Mexico City is the third or fourth most populated metropolitan area in the world (behind Tokyo, New York, and possibly Seoul, depending which data is compared).
Mexico City, with its distinct mestizo culture, blending native Indian (Nahuatl) and Spanish heritages, is the largest metropolitan area in Latin America, and the second-largest in the Americas behind New York. By the end of the 20th century it became one of the largest financial, economic, educational, cultural, and tourist centers of the world.

Ingrid, Talea, and I plan to provide Pepino Suave fans with our own Mexico City information later this week. Stay tuned.

Pa´lla vamos,
Pepinito

Busy Week

Today and tomorrow I attend a workshop entitled, "Evaluation in the Classroom". It is taking place at another middle school on the other side of town. I hitch a ride part of the way and then take a bus the rest. Teachers from around Durango are attending. I was elected to go from my school because I am a visiting teacher from the States (or the director is a quick read and sees a sucker when he comes walking up to him with a bald head and accented Spanish). Either way, I´m not in front of kids, but acting like one with other teachers.
Wednesday we´re off to Mexico City. The Fulbright people and the American Embassy are hosting the American teachers and their families from across Mexico to a three day conference. We will talk about our experiences and visit key embassy folks and sites in the city. Yippy, skippy.
I´ll leave by plane Wednesday morning. Ingrid and Talea follow that night by bus. They will arrive Thursday morning. Why? Your tax money doesn´t pay for their transportation.
We´ll return Sunday after visiting our good friend Elsa and her daughters (formerly of Grand Rapids).
Mexicans are going nuts after winning the World Cup (G17 version, I think its called. Ask a Noordijk). They beat Brazil in the finals. Its a big deal here because they don´t have hockey.

Go Blue,
Pepi

John Wayne

Today we drove by John Wayne´s ranch. Well, its not his now, he being dead and all. Folks say its his brother´s. We took a bus out to a town called Chupaderos (sounds like "Chupadedos" which means "Finger sucker") because we heard there were old Western movie sets there. Sure enough, there were. What used to be an old Western movie studio has been overtaken by a locals. I have a picture of a boy riding by the O.K. Cantina. A kid came strolling out of the General Store asking me for a peso. There was a Ford Taurus parked in front of the funeral parlor. Bizarre.
From Chupaderos we hitchhiked two kilometers to a town called Villa Oeste (Western Village). The Villa is walking distance from John Wayne´s ranch. It is another movie set, but has been transformed into a tourist spot. We sat on the porch of the town bar while watching actors perform scences from a western spoof in the middle of the dirt street. During a pre-performance audience warm-up, Ingrid won a prize by guessing the date of a John Wayne movie. She is so competitive. All these Mexicans are yelling out different dates, and then Ingrid, yelling louder than anyone in town, shouts out a date a decade away from any of the other guesses. The town went nuts because the gringa lady won. She won a carriage ride, an order of fries, and the admiration of a couple dozen Mexican tourists (we were the only gringos).
She´s not even a Western fan. She got the answer off a sign at the enterance.

Mexico beat Holland 4-0 and is going to the finals (of soccer, Fourniers). So there.

Su Pepino Vaquero,

P.S.