thursday

I like when the restaurant is filled with familiar faces. I like when people tell me exactly how they like their coffee, so I don't make it too strong (as usual) or too weak. I like that today in the morning it rained for about 8 minutes and now the sky is filled with large, white clouds but not grey. I would like to remember many of these things.

verduras

A taxi just pulled up really fast and stopped in front of the restaurant. From the passenger seat, a short, elderly man leapt out and ran to the trunk, hoping not to stop traffic too long, I suppose. The taxi driver flew around from his side of the car and opened the trunk. The old man then lifted a big bag of cauliflower out and quickly set it on the sidewalk. In a few seconds the two men took several smaller, black bags from the trunk and set them on the sidewalk beside the cauliflower, all filled with fruits and vegetables, for our store. Small moments have so much meaning for me here. Across the street two women are leaning against a wall and chatting, now they've parted ways. Next to where they were standing, a small, grey-haired woman with glasses puts a key in the padlock to her store. She looks like the ideal, typical abuela and I know that now she will start to hang a selection of Guatemalan clothes between the doors. Calle Real de Guadalupe is like its own community of shop keepers, bartenders, waiters, receptionists, sidewalk sweepers, wide-eyed tourists, bleary-eyed youth. We all see each other on a daily basis, a living portrait of our lives, and we see each other head for our homes late at night. The electronics store on the corner usually is blasting some type of dance music, whether it be cumbia or American music from the '80s, making the mercadito of a few small vegetable stands feel almost as lively as the main market. I am lucky to live just around the corner. Around another corner live dear friends, around another memories, around another a place I think about trying, around and around and around.

fidel castro responds to barack obama

The English version

"Is it right for the president of the United States to order the assassination of any one person in the world, whatever the pretext may be?

Is it ethical for the president of the United States to order the torture of other human beings?

Should state terrorism be used by a country as powerful as the United States as an instrument to bring about peace on the planet?"

- F. Castro

Barack's Comments

a sad story

Good-bye, Bananas

flight..

The hills in San Cristobal are even more wonderful when experienced from bicycle handlebars and I imagine the whole city can hear my excitement.

se cayó

The rains have started in San Cristobal. At first they were sporadic and happened every few days. The past few nights, however, it has started to rain at about the same time, starting with a few splattering, fat drops and eventually growing into a deafening torrent, even drowning out Michael Jackson on the kitchen cd player. The rain can be isolating, trapping one in a cafe or a bedroom when not prepared, or it can be drawn around a group of folks like a warm, shared blanket bringing out stories and revelations. Last night we had such a moment, originally brought together for a cheap and warm meal, we then found ourselves stuffed with Joe's handmade tortillas and unable to leave the kitchen for the relentless rain, sounding much like billions of nails and tacks being flung onto our aluminum roof. We were all quite pleased to have each other's company and were all in happy agreement when Joe said one of his favorite things in the world was making and eating good food with good people. Can life really be so simple?

Lovely.

This past Sunday, after so many years wandering around Mexico, I had my first Mayan steam bath experience. We just happened to be walking down the street when some friends ran by and shouted, "Hey we're leaving for the temezcal, come on!" and it didn't take long for us to grab a towel and jump into a taxi with them, headed for a little mountain just outside a city. El Viejito was our guide (and he really wasn't old at all) and 14 of us crawled into a very low tent covered in plastic and cloth and crowded around a little hole made in the dirt. There were so many of us that it was impossible to sit without leaning a little bit on the people to either side of us and we had to be careful not to accidentally bump the steaming stones with our feet. Outside 2 careful fire tenders brought our guide hot stones and water and soon sweat was streaming in rivers from our pores in an amazing and deeply cleansing, not at all disgusting, way. Some folks played instruments and sang or clapped and others said brief prayers of thanks and by the time we all stumbled back out into the cool air of the outside we felt such a deep bonding among us that we all hugged and kissed one another, thanking each other just for sharing each other's presence. We shared fresh fruit and cool water and afterwards I took a long, peaceful nap. It was a beautiful experience, something I'd truly needed, and I'm hoping to go back again before I leave San Cris.

a few weeks ago....

i went to the caracol of Oventic, a Zapatista autonomous community, with a few musicians from Puebla...

gigantic...

Today a group of students came into the restaurant to look at the roof garden. One gal was wearing a dark-blue t-shirt with the familiar words "Western Michigan University" on it, so I immediately exclaimed, "Hey! I went to Western!" "Oh," she said, "actually this is from my ex-boyfriend, we're from the University of Michigan." Well, well, I thought. Of course if I'd waited a few more minutes I would have noticed that these kids were not from WMU, in the way that they quickly ascended the stairs, eager to see the garden, despite the fact that their guide hadn't even arrived yet. Ambitious. And I'd already blown my cover.

I can see them now, sitting around a table in their hotel, studiously going over their notes and scribbling ideas furiously or reading Zapatista comuniques outloud to one another, and as they take a small break, to lighten the mood, someone comments, "Yeah, well thank God we aren't going to Western, or all that we would end up doing is working in some coffee shop in Mexico." Maybe the years of hearing the disdain and condescension in the voices of U of M kids in regards to WMU kids has led me to believe one of those students would make that comment. Either way, I would reply, "Yeah and if I would have gone to U of M, I'd have ended up a lonely and cynical academic bound to desperate attempts at being at the vanguard and making incredibly vain gesticulations in order to impress people that other people assume are important."

Anyway, this past weekend I went out of town to a small community about an hour and a half from San Cristobal. We stayed in a cabin, swam in a river that was about 2 meters from our cabin, ate delicious homemade vegetarian food with handmade tortillas, and walked around in the forest until we found the source of the the fresh spring water that flows from all the taps on the land. It was a refreshing break from the city and so close that we could even leave early on Monday morning and I made it back (only slightly late) for work. The people were all amazing as well and each of them in their own way reinforced the same idea, "Live well and happy and simply."