Mariachi Gringo

I ended my mariachi career on a high note. Today, seventy- plus people packed the Vizcaya ball room to hear Pepino Suave sing Vincente Fernandez´"El Rey". It was an emotional moment. Many were in tears. Many were aghast. Look at the face on Manuela, the lady in red to my right in the picture below.

Gracias a mis queridos fanaticos,

Pepino "Mariachi" Suave

Las Posadas

Today is was the last ¨normal¨day of classes at the Escuela Secundaria Tecnica Numero 1. Las Pasadas begin today, and continue until the 6th of January. Next week is sure to be nuts. I am told kids bring cakes, candy, and music every day in hope that the profesores will allow them a posada party instead of the planned activity. Apparently, their wish is normally granted. No one wants to be El Scrooge.
Posada means hotel or inn. Las posadas celebrate Mary and Joseph´s search for shelter. Here it is often celebrated each night, beginning tonight. Each neighborhood might elect a boy or girl to be the key actors, and then several others follow them around the barrio singing viancicos (Christmas carols). The evening ends at a predetermined household where they are told to hit the road. Las Posadas culminate on Noche Buena (Christmas Eve), and usually at the local church, where they are welcomed in, offered buñuelos, chocolate, churros, and other goodies. Kids go sugar-bonkers, everyone dances, and there is lots o´music. Generally speaking.
Today the kids got a head start. During the last class adolescents ran the campus smearing cake icing on each other, throwing confetti in the air, and dancing. Yea, there was music. I attempted to make it somewhat instructional by banding together a small group of the hellions and singing ¨Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer¨, with gestures and all. It worked for a few minutes.
Tomorrow morning is the staff Christmas party at a local hotel. I am scheduled to sing Vincente Fernandez´"El Rey". The Spanish teacher and I have been rehearsing each morning during the week. I´ll wear a pancho and a Mariachi hat. There´ll be a mike. And live music. Being as my Mariachi dream was frustrated, this is a nice way to rap up my floundering music career.
Got to go rest my voice.

Con dinero y sin dinero,

El Rey Pepino

Dedos Morados

Today, millions of Iraqi turned out for the first full term election since a dictator was taken from power. Even the Sunni, many led by bloodthirsty, tribal, "religious" zealots, were encouraged to vote in an effort not to have a democratic process tip away the power they had enjoyed under a dictatorshop. The foreboding violence turned out to be much less than expected; we should thank the Higher Power of our particular faiths and many brave soldiers for that. The reports I have heard today have made me hopeful and, mostly, extremely proud.
The image of a purple stained finger will remain in my memory.

Gozando de lo bueno,

Pepino Gringo, Cien Por Ciento

PD Sorry for the heavy but the news of the election is too wonderful not to mention. Also, Ingrid is not here to keep me reigned-in. Peace.

Saliò De Su Papá

Ingrid and Talea dining in Zacatecas. Sideways.

I miss that face.

Me hacen falta las mias,

Pepino Papà

Ink and Talea: Shopping Day

Man, I have no idea how to format this blog. Our research team, Bob the Gorilla and the Singing Bananas, is looking into this. I hope you get the feeling of the Pepinas´ Saturday morning on the town, starting with a pancake breakfast, and ending at Iris´s Dollar Exchange. Start at the picture on the bottom left, and then proceed clockwise. Careful for neck injuries.

Ando solo,

Pepino Poco Plata
P.D. Say hi to my ladies for me. They are missed here in Durango.

Joe D´s Barber Shop

This is where Uncle Joe got a sassy trim for a couple bucks U.S. back in November.
Joe, a side note: That burly fellow in the white t-shirt said you stiffed the girls a tip. What do you want me to do? Do I dip into the Pepino Petty Cash Fund? Please advise.

Temblando en mis botas,

Pepino Codo

Vincente Guerro

Profesor Fidencio and I drove an hour south of Durango to the town of Vincente Guerro on Friday morning. I was invited to talk to the students at Fidencio´s former secondary school about the importance of learning a second language. My talk took place in the school´s library. It was set up very Mexican style: a podium and microphone on a raised platform flanked by tables on a higher platform where administrators, the town mayor, and others sit amongst plastic flowers and bottles of water. Uniformed school girls stood erect on either side of the tables. The school´s counselor was the master of cermony. After using tons of language to express very simple ideas, or none at all, he introduced me. I got up from my place at the table and stepped toward the microphone, forgetting that I was a good step above the podium. I tripped. It was a slow motion trip. We all saw it coming but no one could stop me. I was in motion. I grabbed the closest thing I could get my arms around - one of the uniformed girl guards. I held on to her like I hadn´t seen her in years, which, in fact, I hadn´t. We were total strangers. For being accosted by a strange gringo, the young lady maintained her composure incredibly well, while supporting me as best her 90-some pounds could. I tried to recover by hugging the master of ceremony, a teacher, and a mom standing beside the podium, as if pre-public speaking hugs were part of my culture. I not only didn´t pull it off, but I think I offended the mom in the process. I have felt more affection hugging a lamp post (we´ll save that one for a future entry).
My talk went without any other surprises, although I don´t think my audience could overcome the shock of my introduction. I did that walking-through-the audience thing while I talked, you know, to get that Phil Donahue thing going. Kids would lean away from me as I approached. At the end of my appearance I was presented a plaque, but was not invited to return. I think I lost that gig. There will always be other small, dusy, desert towns to appear in.

Cuidado con donde pisas,

Pepino Tropezón

Hockey Night in Mexico

I can´t seem to stay awake through an entire Amor En Costodia. Watching Spansh cartoons is not the same without Talea. Thursday night I found myself channel switching. To my surprise, channel 83 had the Blue Jackets/Islanders game on. The game tied up late in the third period, went into overtime, and was decided by a shootout. I don´t know what was more surprising, Columbus` win or Federov skating in a Blue Jacket uniform.

Sin hielo,

Pepino Patinador

Se Fueron

Ingrid and Talea left this morning before daybreak. Although I have not heard from them yet, it appears they have arrived home safely to snowy Grand Rapids (according to the Continental website). I hope to hear from them tonight.
Last night we hosted a steady stream of friends wishing my ladies a good trip.
The first thing Talea said when she woke up this morning was, "I miss Grandma." I think she has been preparing for her return since August.
Ingrid, on the other hand, developed a migrain just thinking of returning. She has definately had a fine time here, and left behind some great friends. She will be missed.
I will keep track of Amor En Costodia, pop the remaining popcorn, and empty the refrigerator during my remaining two weeks here in balmy Durango.
Any requests from the Gigante?

Me dejaron,

Pepino Soltero

P.D. JoeD - Keep your mits off the blog. Although a great picture, and the cowboy was well groomed, I wouldn´t want to scare the parents of my students anymore than I already have. Save the picture for bribe money once I make it big in early elementary education. Also, I´m saving a Noche Buena for you in the fridge. Don´t tempt me. I´ll drink it. I swear.

Mexican Television

No, the Pepinos don´t simply watch Amor en Costodia. Talea and Yours Truly have enjoyed the obviously un-dubbed and un-subtitled Mr. Bean sagas, as well as the classic Mexican sitcom Chavo del 8. We own a collectors edition Chavo doll. Do you have a Chavo doll? Double click on "Mexican Television" above to visit the official Chavo del 8 website. Sadly, we leave cable tv watching in Durango, only to return to three fuzzy local stations. First World blues...

Que cable,

Pepino Fanatico

El Churro

Ingrid and Talea leave Mexico this week. Talea´s last goal is simply to get home. Ingrid´s is to taste the Mexican Churro. Churros are like donuts back home; deep fried and fatty (although a bit crispier than the average american pastry). I actually only like them when they are warm and fresh. Unfortunately, churros are mostly found being peddled on the street, uncovered and shouldered on sheet pans by men who most likely wouldn´t have a future in food service back home. Just a humble pepino´s opinion. The Pepinita Churro countdown is 52 hours, 32 minutes.

Que rico,

Pepino Pastelero

Los Menonites

Today we rode a couple hours north of town to Menonite country, guided by our friends Jorge and Irma. Nuevo Leon is a small town located in nothern Durango state. This area has been farmed by Menonite familes since shortly after World War 2. Click on Los Menonites above for more information about the Menonite settlements in Mexico. Above I have a picture of the Menonite carritos sighted often around Nuevo Leon.

Quiero queso,

Pepino Menonito

Se Lo Encargo

I went looking for the immigration office today. In preparing for Ink and Talea´s departure, and mine, as well, I needed to get some paper work signed, fingers printed, and fees paid in order to insure a smooth getaway. All I had was an address the airport policeman gave me more than three months ago when I arrived here. I normally take a bus into the center, but decided on a taxi being that I didn´t know exactly where I was going. Taxistas are the best informed people in Mexican society. Bet you any Mexican taxista could find Hoffa if the fair was decent. Except one. My luck, I score a novice chofer. Guy´s only been back in town a year after spending ten years in Chicago. I had to tell him which way the addresses go in town. We got lost twice. Our misadventure not only allowed the fair to skyrocket, but we got to know each other. He spoke little English ("Check it out" was his verbal tic. He wanted me to "check it out" every other sentence, and then he´d go right back into Spanish), and knew little of the U.S. outside of Chicago, but he held Americans in high regard. He said gringos were always very helpful and understanding of him. Plus, he commented, his American-made wages help send his kids to school - his two boys are engineers now. By the time we pulled up to the immigration office, the fair was the highest I´ve seen in Durango ($3.00 US more or less). I got out of the taxi and bent into the passenger window to pay him. He waived me off saying, "Check it out. You are my friend. No way," and he drove back into traffic.
Something else impressed me on this taxi drive. As we were nearing my destination we stopped at a light. I recognized a lady on the corner, a fellow teacher. I waved at her, and she waved back, than looked at the driver and yelled, "!Se lo encargo, ¿heh?" (I am putting him in your hands o.k.?). She was ensuring that the driver knew that someone here is accountable for me. Watching out for me. You see that alot here. A sense of responsibility for the welfare of another. Confianza.

Con mucha confianza,

Pepino Perdido

Coco Pelado

I had the barber shave my head the other day. It was a good deal. For 30 pesos I read the paper while he scalped me, messaged my bean with oil, and powdered it like a baby´s bottom. I was out of there in twenty minutes feeling sleaker than a stealth bomber. Wind whistled off my dome as I cut thrue the air, certaintly making better time than I did before I met the blade. I imagine I reached home seconds earlier than what it took me getting to the Barber of Durango. Time is money.

Next day, I get "Te quedaste dormido en el caballito (you fell asleep on the horsey)" from everyone and their sister. I asked the good Fidencio (my boss and author of "Fridays are mine" fame) what that was all about. He says it is what you say to a survivor of a severe haircut. It refers to the little play ponies they have in the children´s barber shops. You sit your kid on one, hoping he´s distracted by the aquine, while he gets buzzed. "Imagine if he falls asleep on one," Fidencio explained, "a kid could end up looking like you." Funny man.

In Colombia folks would say, "te cayiste del bus (you fell off the bus)" if you got a tragic trim. Although I knew the colombians were referring to a bad haircut, I never did get the relationship between the hatchet job and tumbling off of public transport, nor did I think to ask a confidant. Our research team is looking into it.

I got a shoe shine this week, too. Abdicated my weekly shining habit to an elderly man in the Plaza de Armas who, fifteen minutes and 15 pesos later, named every state in the U.S. (23) that he had picked fruit or vegetables over his 23 year carreer as a bracero. He has seen more U.S. states than Mexican (4). He shines shoes in retirement. Does a right fine job, too. Puts my shine to shame.

Más piel que pelo,
Pepino Pelado

Boom

Every morning I wake up to explosions. No kidding. I get up at five or so, get the coffee going, and than do some stretches in front of the T.V. By the time the coffee begins gurgling I hear a series of loud bangs, then silence. Within minutes, more bangs. During my first weeks in town I would shuffle over to the back room (the wash room;where the hired help does the laundry -see Ink`s site) and look out between the bars of the window towards the mountains north of town. Nothing. I´d go back to my stretches only to hear more banging within minutes.
Of course, when I ´d ask people what all the racket was they´d look at me like I was one tomale short of a docena. No one seems to hear what I hear, not even my ladies; they just sleep through the noise. Well it turns out, upon talking to an old timer here, the noise comes from explosions at the Copalquin mining operation in the Cerro de Mercado mountain just two miles north of town. Copalquin, by the way, is a Canadian owned mining company. Another aside: it was recently reported that Canada has the worst environmental record of all developed countries in the world. A bonus aside: hockey isn´t played in Mexico. But that is neither here nor there. Point is, I wasn´t hearing things. Or I was. You know what I mean.

Same thing with the blasted trains. I´d hear the whistle blowing as I rose up early in the morn, often and loud, but everyone claimed that trains don´t run through Durango anymore. In fact, I good friend, while driving me through town, insisted that I quit insisting that I heard trains going through town. Minutes after she said that, traffic stopped. For a train.

Gotta go see a man about a horse,

Pepino "!Oiga eso!" Suave

P.S. Click on "Boom" above to learn more about the Canadian company that explodes stuff in the mountains just a couple miles north of here.

El Jardìn

Late afternoon, the nieghborhood jardín is full of activity: kids horsing around, young ladies rehearsing dance steps, young men posing, and older folks sitting on the benches. Here we have a few neighborhood children letting loose after a day of school and the mid-day comida.
El Jardinero, P.S.

Trabajos Estudiantiles

Here is a sample of work from a couple of my students. They collaborated on the story at left (click to enlarge) using structures we have worked on this fall. Above is the creative way the girls chose to present the story. Most the kids presented their stories in the form of dramatic plays. These girls created a puppet theatre. The picture above shows the grandma, her home and bird. Not pictured is the cage; it was a neat prop that didn´t get photographed (I ran out of battery).

Desde el salòn,

Prof. Suave

La Changa

Llegamos. Early return due to Talea´s re-accuring bout with the turistas. I knew she wasn´t herself when she looked at the Cero de Bufa like it was a plate of cold brussel sprouts.
Talea is part monkey. She scales anything. She managed to figure out that she can shim up the doorway to our family room. She climbs me like a jungle gym. So when she looked at the Bufa without the jaw-dropping, eye-widening, "conquer!" attitude expected from Talea of the Apes, we knew we´d better get back to town and get some Tylenol. After breakfast this morning we took the first Omnibus back to Durango.
Zacatecas is like the product of a marriage between rugged Durango and beautiful, curvy San Francisco. I had my best cup of instant coffee there. I don´t know if it was so much the coffee as the teeth-chattering cold making even a warm cup of powdered coffee taste great. Like Durango, and San Miguel, and most of the towns along this cordillera, Zacatecas is a defunct mining town. It lingers on by peddling light tourism, light industry, and by the incredible resourcefulness of the locals, who we find tranquil, hardworking, and extremely polite.

Say Zacatecas 30 times real fast,

Pepino "Usted parece a Clint Eastwood, sabe?" Suave

Zacatecas Ilustrado

These are few glimpses of our day. See the young lady taking a break on the Cero de la Bufa? How ´bout that gorgeous lass walking down the callejón? The señor with the mule is a common sight in these parts; he is selling aguamiel, a popular drink made from the pulp of a type of cactus; said to be a healing tonic. I also have some shots of merchandise and merchants.
Pardon the format. I am techno-impaired.

Órale, Pepino Atrasado

El Gracioso

Israel is a smart aleck. He chose to sport his Union Jack jacket on our Thanksgiving Day, of all days. He wore a chesire grin all class long. Great timing, Israel. We won our (only) revolution..

Para la patria,

Pepino Rojo, Blanco, y Azul

Zacatecas

Don`t come knocking, `cause we`re not home. Ingrid, Talea, and I left for Zacatecas Friday afternoon. We left Durango, Durango at 3:30 pm on the Omnibus line and arrived in Zacatecas, Zacatecas at 8:30 pm. This is our last journey before the girls head home in two weeks. Although we have not traveled much in our months here, we have had the opportunity to visit Mexico city, San Miguel de Allende, and now Zacatecas.
Like Durango, Zacatecas is the capital of a state with the same name. And like Durango, it is an old mining town, established years ago by folks seeking their fortunes in silver and other metals found in the mountains in this region.
We`ll fill you in upon return. Be back Sunday night.

Mineralmente,

Pepino Viajero

Día de Acción de Gracias

Thanksgiving in Mexico was almost as good as at home, thanks to Ingrid. She roasted a 30kg turkey to perfection, whipped up potatoes creamier than butter, and cut a store-bought apple pie like a surgeon. Juan Daniel and his mom Elsa brought a great bottle of (German) wine and helped us devour the feast.

As I arrived to our apartment, I could smell the bounty from the elevator. Talea met me at the door excited and hungry. She and I went around the block to el supermercado Gigante to buy last minute groceries for the cook. Juan Daniel and Mom arrived within minutes of our return. After eating the bird and trimmings, we lounged around the sala watching football (American) and chatting about our experiences here.

Thursday and Friday are work days here. No holiday for these pilgrims. We spent a good part of the day and evening explaining to students and friends what Thanksgiving means to us and how the celebration began. As much as the Mexicans enjoy an incredible amount of holidays throughout the year, our Thanksgiving is truly unique and hard to compare to a Mexican equivalent.

Satisfecho,

Pepino Barrigón

San Miguel de Allende Scenes

Here are a few shots of San Miguel de Allende and environs. The parroquia, or cathedral, was taken from a high spot a mile or so south of town just before dusk. It is the symbol of San Miguel de Allende. You´ll get an idea of San Miguel´s cobble stone streets. I´m also including a sample of the Sierra between the towns of San Miguel de Allende and St. Louis de Potosi. I´ll try to fit in a picture of the bullfighting arena and a sample of some of the beautiful patios in a future entry. These three pictures will hopefully give you a tast of what we experienced.

Desde Nueva España,
Pepino Peligrino

El Mapa Antes y Despuès

Mapa Mundi

The map project has finally ended. After a couple of weeks of work, and a ton of help from the Deltoso family, Michelle "Meeker" Manion, Talea, and her schoolmates, La Escuela Guadalupe Revilla has it´s very own 4 meter by 8 meter map of the world. Ingrid will write in more detail about the project on her blogsite. In the meantime, I have included "before" and "after" pictures above.
Pictured in this entry are school children/map makers standing in front of their finished project. The map is painted onto the east wall of the playground patio. The map is framed by thumb prints of each child in the school.
In the next entry fortunate Pepino followers have a tantalizing view of a bodacious Mrs. Pepino gridding the map in preparation for tracing, then painting. If you can take your eyes from my wife for a moment you´ll see the gang of Deltoso´s, Meeker, Talea, and schoolmates painting the world. It was an international effort to be enjoyed by Durango students for years to come.

Globalmente,

Pepino Chiflado

Al Volver

I´m home (in Durango). I left Big Talea, Medium Ingrid, Travel-size Caroline, and Little Talea in San Miguel´s opulent Quinto Loreto Hotel at 11:00 a.m. and arrived in Durango in the wee hours of this morning (1:30 a.m.). I changed busses in Queréto. Lucky move, as Querétero´s bus depot is bigger and newer than Leon´s, where we stopped on are way into San Miguel.
I sat on a couch, sipped a cold libation, and watched a soap opera while waiting the hour or so to catch the bus to Durango. This trip I was able to see a lot in daylight. Nothing more beautiful than crossing the Sierra Madre at sunset. The mountains to the east were on fire. As it was a national holiday (the revolution began on November 20, 1910) I saw a lot of small town celebrations along the road. The most impressive sight was watching cowboys gallop in from the foothills, apparently racing each other through the semi-desert brush.
Apparently the cold isn´t a regional thing. Getting off the bus I could see my breath, just like in San Miguel. Winter is here in the North Central, too. I wore a jacket to school today.
The girls will bus it in all night tonight. They should arrive in Durango by sun-up.
Nap time. Ol´Pepinos can´t take sleep deprivation like the little gurkens can.

Con sueño,
Pepino Dormilón

Is Anyone Out There?

Folks, have you any question, concerns, or problems that you need addressed on the Pepino Suave Blog of Love and Loss? Any queries regarding the Pepino Mexico experience that aren´t being treated yet? Please write, as lovely Ingrid doubts that anyone is reading this enchanting log of Pepino prose. Let´s prove her wrong.

Averiguando,

Pepino de Allende

San Miguel de Allende

It is cold. Sorry to offend our Michigan fan base (Aunt Nina tells us ya´ll got some six inches of snow the other day) but we are chilln´here in Mexico´s north-central. We arrived this morning after twelve hours and two buses of over-night traveling. Talea barfed just five minutes out of San Miguel de Allende. Got it all in her plastic bag. She is a great road warrior, that gal. Said she felt much better and moved on to the next adventure (a taxi into town).

We spent part of this evening with Aunt Talea and Carolina sipping vampiros and palomas and being seranaded by mariachis in the town plaza. Big Talea and Carolina are in town for a wedding. We are in town to visit them (see my previous entry, slackers). Little Talea is in heaven walking around town with her big cousin Caroline. They dashed off to the central plaza tonight to join local kids singing and generally being rowdy. The rest of the evening we spent looking for extra wraps. We are dressed for Durango desert weather. It is cold, need I repeat.

San Miguel in a few words: Mexico´s gift shop. Mean demographic: Middle aged expat Americans. End of story. Read the tour guide.
Going horse back riding tomorrow.

Hace frio,

Pepino Helado

PS A band across the street in a bar called¨Joe´s" is playing a cover of Stevie Wonder´s "Superstition". A group of Mariachi´s on the corner are singing "Llora". Culture clash.

Mis Zapatos

I like my shoes. I baby them. My two pair of school shoes, one black, the other brown, get a buff and/or shine every week. Even though there is a shoe shine man every 200 meters, I shine ém myself. It is an obsesion of mine.
Thing is, down here my dogs take quite a beating. I walk everywhere. The soles of my black pair had been worn almost right through. Ingrid took them to the shoe repair man across the street from our Oxxo yesterday. He had new soles put on for under ten bucks. I´m walking on sunshine.
That is all the news to report. Slow news day. In fact, besides my shoes, the most exciting thing today was eating lunch. Durango is a very quiet town.
The Pepino tribe is hitting the road tonight. We´ll be in San Miguel de Allende by sun up. Look for an entry or two from the road. Nos vemos.

Ándale,

Pepino Andaliego

Talea´s Gallery

Today I am including a picture from Talea´s portfolio. She took this picture of her parents at Xochimilco, a popular tourist destination and a trial lawyer´s dream near the capital (If you would like to read more about Xochimilco see my spellbinding October 7 entry). In the foreground are Talea´s headless parents and a headless bystander. In the background are the rafts we hired to float around a marshy canal.

La Vaquerita

Here is a picture of a young vaquerita. She posed for a picture during the Independence Day parade in September (you may read, or reread in the case of the countless Pepino oficionados, my titilating September 16th Independence Day entry by using the icons under archives to your right).
It rained yesterday. There was one thunder clap (trueno, Inky) followed by fifteen minutes of what Michiganders call ¨"spitting". `Twas the first ran in weeks. Raised the eyebrows of most locals, but made Ingrid have a sort of religious experience. In public. See Inky´s blog today for her heart-wrenching, thought provoking report on Durango´s weather. Share it with friends.

An Inky oficiondado,

Pepino Mojado

Teotihuacan Revisited

This picture is from our trip to Mexico City back in early October (see the often discussed, debated, and admired October 10, 2005 entry). It is a picture of the Sun pyramid at the Teotihuacan ruins, just north of the capital. Notice the native girl in the foreground.
Pardon the tiny duplicate included to the left of the picture. I´m still on a very broad learning curve. That said, I owe a thanks to the Detroit Public Schools Special Education Department, my alma mater.

Despacio,

Pepino Lento

Holy Frijoles

• No picture today. I´m going crazy with this new capability, but it does take awhile to download my pix. Let´s take a break for a day.
• Ingrid is down with the flu. She was in bed all day yesterday, but is feeling better today. Talea still has the remnants of her cold; a slight cough that kicks in once she is sleeping. Other than that we are fine, but missing our Deltoso cohorts of last week. It is booooooring!
• Tomorrow there are no scheduled classes at my school. A large part of the staff will be in a training session, and the rest of us will be testing a group of students who are attempting to qualify for a national mathematics competition. Yippy-skippy.
• Last week we discovered that Talea scored better than average on the standardized tests at her school. Figure that out. No bilingual support, just weeks in country; she´s got her mom´s brains.
• Friday the Pepino clan is hopping a bus to San Miguel de Allende, where we will meet Ingrid´s sister and our niece. Big Aunt Talea and her daughter, Caroline, are attending the wedding of a friend and we are taking the apportunity to see them. SMA is a great town that I visited about 12 years ago while wondering around the states of Guanajuato and Querétero. The town is a magnet for artisans and still has a colonial look to it. It is the only place in my travels south of the border where I have been asked if I was from there. Lots of expat gringos reside in and around SMA.
• Election year is in high gear. Mexican politics are no different than anywhere else. Today´s headline claims they´ve got a key PRI official on videotape taking a one-million dollar (U.S.) bribe in a D.F. hotel room. Hanky-panky.
• The paper also reports that this year´s dry spell has wiped out the bean crop, one of the principle harvests in this region. The article notes that this will most likely increase emmigration to the States.
• Yesterday, Talea and I went to the neighborhood park with her school pals. First, they played with a wayward shopping cart from the Gigante. Next, they climbed a tree. Then they crunched empty pop cans under their feet and clomped around like horses. Finally, a group of older girls were dancing to a radio they had brought with them, and Talea and Rosio, her pal, tired of the monkey games and joined in the dancing. They laughed so hard they kept falling down. Yes, I took pictures.

Frijól Sagrado,

Pepinato

La Sierra

This is a view of the sierra near the Victoria dam, a twenty minute drive south of Durango.

The Angry, Hungry Wolf

These are a troupe of my third graders (US=ninth grade) acting out a skit we created in class. The three boys on their knees are portraying sheep. They aren´t supposed to be laughing because the fellow on the upper left is an angry, hungry wolf. Maybe they feel secure because hiding behind the cactus (the cactus is the chamaco in the black jacket with yellow stripes) is a shephard boy. It´s obvious, no?

Les cuento un cuento,

Pepino Salvaje

Joe D.

Joe D. taught me the obvious; how to get pictures on to this blasted blog. It is as easy as spreading cajeta onto a tortilla. It took me three months and a brief Joe D. email to get it right. For that reason, I dedicate the first Pepino Suave Images to "The Sampler". Enjoy. They are illustrations of Joe´s trials in the Sierra. In the pictures above, you see two Limited English Speaking Outlaws (LESOs) robbing Joe of his ice-cold Corona (on left).
He cried for hours....until we chipped in for another beverage (see right).
Click to enlarge!

Bonito para la foto,

P.S.

Inky´s Site

Check out Inky´s site for some great Joe D. photagraphy and web design. He may be gone physically, but he´s still with us cyberally. Just click on the¨Inky Fournier" icon to the right. Hats off to Don Joe.

I am off to watch the herd while the gals have a night out. Wish the kids luck.

Una niñera,

Prof. Pepino

One Down

Uncle Joe packed his bags and left. He should be flying out of D.F. some time this morning. Poor guy. Comes to Mexico, visits our apartment packed with U.S.immigrants, follows us on fieldtrips that include closed restaurants, locked schools, and cheesy tourist sites (at least he saw a cowboy kiss me. Details to follow). By morning he had purchased the mexican over-the-counter knock off of his american behind-the-counter migraine meds, his bottle of cajeta, kissed his wife, jumped in a taxi, and was off in a cloud of dust. I am left with four wonderful, albiet energetic kids, and three american women (my voice will get a good rest).
Today the gang is finishing the 8 meter by 4 meter wall map of the word that they began yesterday at Talea´s school, and then they are going swimming. These kids are great. They actually love to work. And they are good workers - all of them under the age of ten!
Massimo and Valentino are mixing with the locals. Massimo actually helped teach an English class yesterday. He was recruited by the English teacher. Gabriel is the charm of the Guadiana Valley. People adore her. My Talea is enchanted by her visitors. She´ll want to go home with them, I am sure.

Desde La Niñera,

Pepino Dejado

Tía Meeker

Our traveling chum Michelle Manion, aka Meeker, arrived last night after a three-day spin in Mexico City. Ingrid the Pepina and I picked her up after an incredibly romantic dinner at La Tela restaurant, a great haunt highly recommended by Joe "The Sampler" Deltoso. The Deltosos allowed us a night out while they watched our mocosa Talea and their own offspring. Ink and I stared deeply into each other´s eyes as we agreed what an absolute fabulous catch I was. Funny how Ink and I think alike. Uncanny.
The girls are painting a wall map, Joe is wandering, and I am at school writing this between modules, while planning my afternoon nap.

El esposo de los esposos,

Pepino Suavezón

Pepino Suave

Buenas Tardes Amigos...

While Ink plays chess with my 7 year old Valentino, while Talea and Gabriella rearrange furniture as they play hide and seek, while Massimo creates yet another work of oragami to adorn the apartment, while Don Jose sleeps, I write.... Will apartment 902 ever be the same? God Bless the Fourniers for taking us all in!

After arriving at the conclusion that charter schools are the begnning of the end of the American public education system over drinks last night...at breakfast we fully disclosed who uses and who chooses not to use underarm deodreant and why....we packed our ruck sacks and were off for the day to visit the various parks in Durango.

Un dia muy bonita....and feeling especially fit as I spent an hour with ingrid and las mujeres de durango in water fitness class last night. what a treat that was....no one drowned as far as i could tell. looking forward to more class time this next week and hopefully some ´¨New York¨¨!

We thought we were going to draw and paint on the walls at Taleas school, but we think the janitor took a really long coffe break...manana, maybe. So we enjoyed the great outdoors in a huge park, watching the children swing - and fall off swings, play ball, chase the piegeons in the plaza (Bino we thought of you as we watched the pigeons!), .... all in all a great day.

Looking forward to more drama in Amor y Custdia, solving more of the worlds promblems over vampiros- what a cocktail!, and just leading the life of the Fourniers. And we´ve all got high hopes that Padre Andres will be saying mass in the morning.

Gracias Tio Tim for letting me blog...and for sharing apartment 903 with us for the week!

La Martita (Inks college buddy from JMU)

Dress Code

Good morning my public. The copy guy went out to pay the taxista, so I have a few minutes. Thought I´d give you a Hosting the Deltosos update:

• Overheard while Ink and I were burning breakfast: "Honey, see what Tim is wearing." First, those words were never arranged in that way in the history of the English language. Second, now Durango has two gringos walking around looking like middle-aged Forest Gump; one with a twenty peso Mexican haircut.
• All Deltoso kids are polite, respectful, quiet, clean, and cute. Salen de su mamá...
• The adults didn´t go out last night. While the rugrats slumbered, we drank cuba libres, vampiros, luke-warm Coronas in tiny bottles, ate everything that Doc Laseter told us not to, and judged everyone, and every instutution we know. The world is a diffent place this morning; fuzzy and kind of cotton mouthed.

We´re off to Talea´s school to paint a map. Then to Parque Guardiana to set the kids free and let a couple of old Gringos nap under a tree. Si Díos lo quiere...

Hosting the Deltosos,

Antifiltrón Pepino

Special Feature

All the millions of Pepino Sauve fans, associates, admirers, and creditors be aware of an incredible, once in a lifetime, special feature. The Pepina, Inky Fournier, has lent her blog to a ghost writer for the day. Simply click on the Inky Fournier icon to the right there, and be treated to our visitor´s point of view of the Pepino experience in Durango. Yes, Joe "Boom-Boom" Deltoso shares his own Italian-American perspective of Northern Mexico. Free of charge. Enjoy.

One clarification, if you will allow. Young Sr. Deltoso writes of an incident that occurred today that, I am afraid, was not entirely correct. Yes, a student did yell an English explicative my way. In fact, he did so several times in the middle of a mid-afternoon Gigante supermarket, of all places. Important, too, is that the student was not mine; he studies at a rival school. And, I regret to say, he swears in impecable English. Pepino Suave smells competition...

That is the rest of the story, Pepino pals.

Hosting the Deltosos,

Pepino

Tikkitikkitimbo

My third grade (equivalent to U.S. ninth grade) girls were all absent today. They attended a practice for a Special Olympics activity later this month. That left me with a Friday afternoon full of boys-only classes. Let me tell you, there was a lot less distraction. Some of the boys who spend my classes in a stupor where actually engaged and , believe it or not, were understanding my lesson. We had a ton of laughs because the anxiety level was so low - it was just us guys. My last class helped create the best story of the day. A summary:

There is a Chinese dinosaur named Tikitikitimbonosinimbopoypoybuskyboypondo-hikynomenikynomiadamboy (stole that from and old Shirley and Lambchop song. Who´s old enough to remember that?) He wanted to kiss a cockroach named Sue. Sue didn´t want to kiss Tikki (for short. Lets save space and your time. For the students, I repeated the name every occasion I could. They went nuts every time). He had bad breath. So Tikki goes to a dinosaur discoteque where there are tons of fabulous unattached dinosaurs. He tries to kiss about five different dinosaurs of varying colors, but none want to because of his bad breath. Finally he meets Shakira, an incredibly attractive young dinosaur with equally incredible bad breath. The dinosaurs (I use plastic props that I bought at Miejers before coming down here. They come in packs of eight for a buck. Go out and get some.) move in slow motion towards each other as my students hum soap opera music. The dinasours kiss for 2,315.09 years and live happily until they become extinct. The end.

They pay me for this.

Siempre romantico,

Don Pepino

Está Resfriada

Talea is sick. She caught the same cold every other mocoso in town has. It is all Pepino Suave´s fault. When I picked her up from swimming Tuesday night I should have taken her home. Instead, we went on a romp through the center of town looking for spooks, candy calaveras, altares, belated trick r´ treaters, and other Halloween/Day of the Dead week adventures. Talea´s head was still wet from swimming, and we walked about two miles in the cool evening air. We saw a lot of what we were looking for, but now Talea is laid up with a sore throat and mocos. I don´t think she´d even appreciate a candy calavera right now. Bad Daddy.

Siempre humilde,

Pepino Malo

Blog Blues

Sorry for the format problems, Pepino Suave fans. For some reason, my profile and links has drifted to the bottom right of the page, and I cannot indent or add spaces to save my frijoles.
Patience, the blog might just heal itself.

Sin apoyo tecnólogico,

Pepinazo

Día de los Muertos Redeaux

Today`s Victoria de Durango reported 240,00 Duranguenses and three gringos went to the Panteón Oriente (the cementary on our side of town) between Monday and Wednesday of this week. 160,000 attended during yesterday´s festivities alone; about 70 people entering the cementary per minute.
500 youths were on hand to hire themselves out to clean and groom grave sites. We saw many of these young folks bearing shovels and hoes as they wandered the boneyard looking for work. The newspaper estimated that the crowds left behind 35 tons of trash.
We found the event to be a controlled chaos. How many peanut vendors does the consumer really need within one city block? Is the corn cob roaster really concerned with public safety by leaving red hot coals on the sidewalk? The machete-wielding sugar cane vendors were chopping their product awful close to pedestrian heads, arms, and legs. Still, for the size of the crowd, the atmosphere was calm, and there appeared to be a hint of organization. We enjoyed ourselves.
The best sight was watching a family dinning atop a tomb while mariachis surrounded them in a seranade.

Boo,

P.S.

Mexican Connection

Yesterday´s Victoria de Durango newspaper reported that the rate of U.S. dollars sent back to Mexico by emmigrants in the US is almost equivalent to the total annual earnings of the Mexican oil industry, the countries largest money maker.
The amount increased by 20% compared to the same period last year. The money flow is a result of 43.3 million seperate transactions, each worth an average US$340.
Officials note that 11 million Mexican-born live in the US, plus another 15 million of Mexican origin. The newspaper underlined the difficulty of confirming these numbers due to the large number of the undocumented.

Documentado,

Pepino Migrado

Dìa del los Fieles Difuntos

Today Mexico celebrates the Day of the Dead. As is custom anywhere, the actual holiday is stretched out for days. We have seen altares to the dead, drank atoles, and eaten pan de muerto since Monday, and will probably continue to do so until the weekend. After I finish this entry Talea, Ingrid, and I will walk over to the cementary to catch some of the action. We plan to see lots of colorful (mostly yellow) flowers, candles, mariachis, families picnicing on and around tombs, and maybe a bottle or two of taquila (taquila not a tradition particular to this holiday; pretty much omnipresent). All schools are closed, and business is dead (that in honor of the greatest punster north of the border, our dear defunct Uncle Warren).
An article in this morning`s El Siglo de Durango notes that eight out of ten terminally ill are resigned to die. It reports that wailing, singing, and crying around those other two of ten terminally ill might not be a good idea. Let´s tuck that one away in the "info. neither needed nor asked for" file located in between the¨"unsolicited advice" and "if I were you" files.

Hasta la muerte,

Pepino Vivo

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.