Juerga: Paz is now saying that the Mexicans' fascination and dedication to parties and celebration of every occasion also finds its origin in their closed nature. That, in parties, Mexicans allow themselves to open up in deliriously loud and colorful ways, pushing their stomachs, their voices, their emotions to their absolute limits and then some. The result is nothing like the "weekend" or the "cocktail parties" that we have in the states, but rather a grand manifestation of food, music, color, alcohol, screaming, dancing, crying, fighting, death and rebirth. He says, sure, accidents and harm do happen, tearful confessions interrupt friendly conversation, friends become brothers and enemies in a matter of hours, but that this is the way of the Mexican party. Such a release of the energy and emotion which is otherwise bottled up most of the time shoots into the sky like cohetes, fireworks, and explodes downward in a fury of color and sound.
Lluvia: I also was thinking about another of Paz's ideas from earlier in the book, relating to how Mexicans accept their surroundings with little motivation to change them or make their own place within them. He says this is why other countries create and Mexico does not. Natural phenomena shapes the life of Mexicans, while in the U.S. people shape the world around them in their image, to make it their own vision of what life is. This subtle, yet fundamental, difference between Mexico and other countries, to Paz, forms the base of Mexico's social and political institutions, the economy, and so many other facets of Mexican society.
Abby and I were discussing this between bouts of spanish study and remembered how we both noticed that when the sky turned dark and opened up to release large, fast-falling drops, the only folks still attempting to go about their business were tourists. Mexicans, rather, will simply duck under an awning or into a building and wait out the rain. Tourists have their raincoat on and umbrella out without missing a step. It seemed, to me, to affirm Paz's statements, though surely in only a superficial way.
05 October 2007
04 October 2007
Pulular
Gente: The Cervantino is Guanajuato´s annual, several-week long arts festival that takes place every October. The festival officially began yesterday and now the city is bubbling with tourists, artists, musicians, journalists, police, and us. Events range from pricey ballets to spontaneous street movement to bars out-drink-specialing eachother in ridiculous ways. Video cameras and VIP pass-wearers stand out all over the city, preparing for the intensity of the complete immersion of the festival. Even though I lack the resources to attend most of the "official" events, it´s still a good time to be in the city.
Abejas: We´ve been working, busy as bees, on the Beehive project. Showing the posters to people and talking about them is moving along well. We´ve got some presentations lined up and we meet new people every day who are interested in what we´re doing. When Amolia took a flyer to a popular bar for young travelers, the owner promptly took one, left, and returned a few minutes later with 20 copies of the flyer at twice the size. A good sign. Our first real presentation (maybe even with a projector!) will be this Saturday morning and will be our testing event to practice our presenting and guiding of discussion. It will be a step up from just throwing the posters down on the UAC campus (in Querétaro) and waiting for people to come by and talk to us, which also was fun and productive but in a different way.
Indexing: Another productive use of my time is trading Abigail Spanish practice/tutoring for a beer or a snack. Too bad she's such a quick learner or the deal might really pay off.
Literatura: I can see now, as I crawl through El Laberinto de la Soledad, why Octavio Paz was so unwelcomed and heavily criticized by the intellectuals in Mexico when he first released this book. In the first chapter, he notes what he observes as the differences between people in Mexico, people in the U.S. and "los pachucos," Mexicans who leave Mexico to live and work in the United States. He describes the pachucos basically as social denigrates, who forget their own, "old" culture and refuse to embrace or even become a part of the new culture. This, Paz says, leads them to become like shadows, without substance, hiding behind their own resentment for both cultures and ultimately, themselves. This also leads the pachucos to act out in agression, which becomes a fundamental part of their identity. Paz also had interesting ideas about the differences between the "north americans" and Mexico. Although he makes comments such as that North Americans drink to forget and that Mexicans drink to confess, the most significant difference he notices is that in the north, people are "abierta," open. And in Mexico, "cerrada," closed.
In the second chapter, Paz goes into great depth and detail about the closedness of Mexicans, and the masks they hide behind to prevent anyone from discovering who or what they are. He says that for Mexicans the greatest fear is that someone will get past your defenses, beyond the máscara. This affects familial relations, work, education, love and pretty much every aspect of life. Later, he goes on and on about the ways and historical reasons that Mexicans hide themselves from others, refusing to assert an identity and so they become lost in their surroundings, completely complicit in becoming a "fondo," a background. He says that while some people walk, Mexicans scurry. And also that Mexicans utilize "la mentira," the lie, as a fundamental part of their verbal communication. No wonder his book didn't make people, especially Mexicans, feel that great. His ideas are interesting to me but his approach doesn't seem to be the best if he was trying to get Mexicans motivated to analyze themselves (which he states early on in the book). Still, I've only read two chapters and I know the next ones move into more broader aspects of the Mexican culture, rather than focusing on psycology and semantics.
Abejas: We´ve been working, busy as bees, on the Beehive project. Showing the posters to people and talking about them is moving along well. We´ve got some presentations lined up and we meet new people every day who are interested in what we´re doing. When Amolia took a flyer to a popular bar for young travelers, the owner promptly took one, left, and returned a few minutes later with 20 copies of the flyer at twice the size. A good sign. Our first real presentation (maybe even with a projector!) will be this Saturday morning and will be our testing event to practice our presenting and guiding of discussion. It will be a step up from just throwing the posters down on the UAC campus (in Querétaro) and waiting for people to come by and talk to us, which also was fun and productive but in a different way.
Indexing: Another productive use of my time is trading Abigail Spanish practice/tutoring for a beer or a snack. Too bad she's such a quick learner or the deal might really pay off.
Literatura: I can see now, as I crawl through El Laberinto de la Soledad, why Octavio Paz was so unwelcomed and heavily criticized by the intellectuals in Mexico when he first released this book. In the first chapter, he notes what he observes as the differences between people in Mexico, people in the U.S. and "los pachucos," Mexicans who leave Mexico to live and work in the United States. He describes the pachucos basically as social denigrates, who forget their own, "old" culture and refuse to embrace or even become a part of the new culture. This, Paz says, leads them to become like shadows, without substance, hiding behind their own resentment for both cultures and ultimately, themselves. This also leads the pachucos to act out in agression, which becomes a fundamental part of their identity. Paz also had interesting ideas about the differences between the "north americans" and Mexico. Although he makes comments such as that North Americans drink to forget and that Mexicans drink to confess, the most significant difference he notices is that in the north, people are "abierta," open. And in Mexico, "cerrada," closed.
In the second chapter, Paz goes into great depth and detail about the closedness of Mexicans, and the masks they hide behind to prevent anyone from discovering who or what they are. He says that for Mexicans the greatest fear is that someone will get past your defenses, beyond the máscara. This affects familial relations, work, education, love and pretty much every aspect of life. Later, he goes on and on about the ways and historical reasons that Mexicans hide themselves from others, refusing to assert an identity and so they become lost in their surroundings, completely complicit in becoming a "fondo," a background. He says that while some people walk, Mexicans scurry. And also that Mexicans utilize "la mentira," the lie, as a fundamental part of their verbal communication. No wonder his book didn't make people, especially Mexicans, feel that great. His ideas are interesting to me but his approach doesn't seem to be the best if he was trying to get Mexicans motivated to analyze themselves (which he states early on in the book). Still, I've only read two chapters and I know the next ones move into more broader aspects of the Mexican culture, rather than focusing on psycology and semantics.
02 October 2007
La rosa de los vientos
Brillante: Guanajuato still amazes me with its colors. Despite the otherwise normalcy of a small, colonial Mexican city, I feel as if I've stepped into an explosion of shades and tones. My eyes aren't accustomed to seeing such a wide range of color and it makes me wonder why people limit themselves, or are limited, to colors that come in a rainbow or a box of crayons. Haven't they witnessed how rain water, steadily washing away paint over years, adds a subtle shadow to a cobalt-colored wall? Or how the rust from a gate adds an extra element to a maroon home? Colors are so much more than what are eyes can perceive, I've been trying to catch many of them with a photographic device that is even more limited in its capacities. Luckily, our eyes reflect.
01 October 2007
Préstame tu maquina del tiempo
Mañanas: I love the calm of mornings, which usually begin with a plate of fruit, a bit of yogurt, a small cup of coffee, or the occasional sweet chocolate milk or banana licuado. Renato usually puts loud music on while he gets ready for school and when he leaves, I go through his hundreds of cds. On a recent tranquil morning, I listened to the discography of Rodrigo Gonzalez (imagine a Mexican version of Bob Dylan), while reading Octavio Paz´s El Laberinto de la Soledad, along with my trusty diccionario. I think I actually spent more time looking through my dictionary, fascinated by how meanings connect to other words and expand into more meanings and create a whole web of ideas, sensations and possibilities. While I was looking at the multiple meanings of "extraviado," Rodrigo, in his gruff Chilango voice, sings "ha perdido su camino"- which fit perfectly into Paz's sentiment.
Familia: Renato´s family is amazing. They let us stay in their home for 2 weeks without ever asking for anything or seeming to be bothered at all. His mother, Marcela, cooked us ample and delicious breakfasts on the weekends, filled the table with fruit, tortillas, yogurt, honey, soup, quesadillas and homemade salsa for lunch, made us warm chocolate milk before bed and made us toast and tea in bed when our stomachs were hurting. Gaby, the youngest sister, sings loudly for most of the time she is in the house, practicing for the rock group she sings with. Martin, dad, usually keeps to himself but when his favorite futbol team, America, wins he´s in a good mood for days and will tell jokes and talk with everyone. On the weekends, Martin´s family gathers at his mother´s house and Marcela gets together with her beautiful group of sisters for a day-long lunch. The entire family is lovely and friendly, and they always make me feel like part of the family when I visit. When I asked Renato if it was any problem for them, he assured me that though they are a humble family, they were happy to take care of us because simply, that´s what people do. Ah, Mexico, who would want to leave you?
Things we take for granted: We are driving down the dimly-let, wet, Calle San Diego, looking for a birthday party for the sister of a friend of a friend (in Mexico, if there´s a party, everyone is invited) after losing the car that we were following. We know the address: 109. On the right side of the street we see 175 and the numbers appear to be lowering. Ok, so we know which side of the street it´s on, at least. Driving further along, we pass through all of the 100s and never see 109. So, we keep on driving and low and behold the numbers start back at 200 and are lowering again, but this time the odds and evens have switched sides of the street. Then the numbers jump erratically: 205, 147, 212, 27. We decide looking for the address is no longer a good idea and decide to go back to where we heard loud music coming from a house. Tony runs into the house because it´s too dark to see if its the right place from outside and of course we should have trusted our first instinct- go where the music´s the loudest and forget numbers.
Familia: Renato´s family is amazing. They let us stay in their home for 2 weeks without ever asking for anything or seeming to be bothered at all. His mother, Marcela, cooked us ample and delicious breakfasts on the weekends, filled the table with fruit, tortillas, yogurt, honey, soup, quesadillas and homemade salsa for lunch, made us warm chocolate milk before bed and made us toast and tea in bed when our stomachs were hurting. Gaby, the youngest sister, sings loudly for most of the time she is in the house, practicing for the rock group she sings with. Martin, dad, usually keeps to himself but when his favorite futbol team, America, wins he´s in a good mood for days and will tell jokes and talk with everyone. On the weekends, Martin´s family gathers at his mother´s house and Marcela gets together with her beautiful group of sisters for a day-long lunch. The entire family is lovely and friendly, and they always make me feel like part of the family when I visit. When I asked Renato if it was any problem for them, he assured me that though they are a humble family, they were happy to take care of us because simply, that´s what people do. Ah, Mexico, who would want to leave you?
Things we take for granted: We are driving down the dimly-let, wet, Calle San Diego, looking for a birthday party for the sister of a friend of a friend (in Mexico, if there´s a party, everyone is invited) after losing the car that we were following. We know the address: 109. On the right side of the street we see 175 and the numbers appear to be lowering. Ok, so we know which side of the street it´s on, at least. Driving further along, we pass through all of the 100s and never see 109. So, we keep on driving and low and behold the numbers start back at 200 and are lowering again, but this time the odds and evens have switched sides of the street. Then the numbers jump erratically: 205, 147, 212, 27. We decide looking for the address is no longer a good idea and decide to go back to where we heard loud music coming from a house. Tony runs into the house because it´s too dark to see if its the right place from outside and of course we should have trusted our first instinct- go where the music´s the loudest and forget numbers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
