What Am I Doing Here?

I'm happy to report that I've finally visited one of the programs I plan to include in my research.  I could write about how it is that I hadn't yet been able to do that (which would include an exploration of culture/personality--I'm not sure how much of each of those is at play), but instead I'm going to write about the visit and some of what I already know about the program.  This is what I thought was so interesting that I built my research project around it and programs like it:

Faro de Oriente
"Faro" is an acronym for Fabrica de Artes & Oficios; "Oriente" means east in Spanish.  Thus, Faro de Oriente is a program in the eastern part of Mexico City.  I'll explain what the other words actually mean shortly.  However, faro also is a Spanish word in and of itself and it means "beacon," like a lighthouse beacon.  I'm relatively sure the double-meaning is intended.

Faro de Oriente is one of four similar programs located in far-flung, periferal, impoverished locations in Mexico City.  Two are in the southern parts within the boundaries of the Federal District (both in somewhat or very rural areas), the newest one is in the northeastern part of the District, and the original is in the east (oriente).  As subsequent Faros have been developed after Faro de Oriente, they have developed programming addressing the different needs and desires of the communities in which they are located, but they are all within a network and all are programs of the DF Secretary of Culture.  The purposes of the Faros are to increase the availability of cultural opportunities in the marginal outlying areas of DF, and to provide training in the production of arts (artes) and crafts (oficios) to populations who have few other educational or training opportunities and to provide the space for such work to be done (a fabrica is a factory or production facility).  Exactly what each Faro does, however, is highly influenced by the communities and community-building in each area.

The Visit
What my research project is about is juvenile delinquency/crime prevention within the context of various programs for youth and young adults in Mexico City.  I plan to look at six different programs/agencies, half of which are operated by the government of the DF and half of which are operated by non-profits.  A preliminary step in my research process is visiting each program/agency to observe operations and meet the people in charge who can agree to give me access.  I am necessarily reliant on my local contact to help make these visits happen. After plans for two visits failed to materialize, in some frustration, I recently attempted to make contacts to initiate visits on my own.  This effort did not produce positive results (cold-calling in Spanish was a bit of a disaster and almost everything that could go wrong with such an effort, did).

However, hope springs eternal.  My local contact mentioned another potential opportunity to visit Faro de Orient last week, right before he was leaving the country for several conferences in South America.  I got a text message Saturday morning to contact a friend and colleague of his who was taking another woman, who is a doctoral student from Switzerland, on a visit.  I was able to connect with Angeles and we arranged a meeting place outside a metro station for Sunday morning.

We finally found Tamara (the Swiss student) and her car.  It was decided that Jose  (Angeles' husband) would drive.  The visits ended up taking all day, as the distances between the programs were large, especially when considering the lack of any direct route between them, and the notoriously heavy, slow traffic.

While Jose, Angeles and I had waited for and tried to find Tamara, I got to know them a little bit.  Jose seemed very knowledgeable about the Faros.  I asked if he were also a social worker—no, he’s an architect and has designed many of the Faro buildings.  He was a great resource to meet, not to mention a really nice guy.  Angeles also was very helpful and Tamara gave me hope that I'll one day actually be able to speak Spanish much more fluently.

As we drove, going first to visit Faro de Oriente, Jose talked about the history of the Faros.  The Faro de Oriente is in the eastern part of DF in the Delegacion of Ixtapalapa.  ("Delegaciones" are subdivisions of the city, sort of like New York City's boroughs.)  The program was established during the administration of the first governor of DF from the PRD (the political party of the left).  Currently, Faro de Oriente provides workshops in the arts/crafts, such as metalworking, carpentry, ceramics, the making of alebrijes (more about these in a minute), sewing, various printing processes such as serigraphy, paper-making, and music, all for free, to children, youth and older adults in the surrounding community.   The workshops require pre-registration and there is always more demand than there is capacity in the workshops.  They run on a tri-mester basis, year round.

The Faro campus is surrounded by a fence but the gates were open wide on one side and we drove through them onto a concrete-covered open space.  Several other vehicles were parked facing the fence.  Right outside the gate was a truck selling snacks.  There are several buildings, including the most recent new construction--a theater that had its grand opening in August.  It’s a space that can be used in several different ways for performances of different types and sizes, either inside or outside with the building opened up as a large stage.  The main building is a two-story, multipurpose building.  It has areas devoted to the different modalities and offices.  Some of the areas are classrooms, but most of the building is more or less open. At one end of the top floor is a community comedor (dining room) where meals are served to people from the community through a program of a different department of the DF government.  There is also gallery space.  The building is a remodel of a building that was built by the local government but had been abandoned for something like eight years prior to Faro obtaining it.  Jose said that during the time the building was abandoned, the community used the land and building as a trash dump for everything including derelict/abandoned cars.  One of the first tasks to ready the site for the Faro was clean-up of all of the garbage and debris.  That activity alone was a community improvement.  The campus also has another large building that houses the actual work space for metalworking, carpentry, and the making of large alebrijes.  

This is an alebrije.  Essentially, alebrijes are sculptures of (usually) fantastical animals.  The original ones were carved from copal wood and painted, in a small town in Oaxaca.  These are quite large (as can be seen by comparing the dragon/dinosaur to the two small children being menaced) and made, I think, of papier mache over a wire frame.

Apparently there is an interest in environmental sustainability.  Rainwater is captured through fields of lava rock, stored in underground cisterns and used for the restrooms throughout the buildings.  The large workshop building is built with high windows on all four sides, to maximize the availability of natural light.  Small openings on the lower part of the building, and venting up high, help to naturally cool the building.  The cooling technology is used on the theater as well.

The outside of the main building serves as a canvas for large, colorful paintings.  The backside of the building has smaller panels of graffiti-like painting.  Jose discussed the large paintings as being products of workshops.  On one end of the building, the painting had a 2011 date.  I'm not sure whether the backside painting is also part of workshop art.  In front of the building was a LARGE sculpture, which looked like it was left from Dia de Muertos celebrations.  It was a figure with a skull covered with recycled CDs/DVDs (shiny!), with recycled video tape for hair.  Below on the ground was a guitar, covered with vinyl LPs.  Jose explained that most of the materials used are recycled.

Development of a Faro and its Programs

I hope to learn a lot more about this through my research because what I already have heard is very interesting.  When an area is chosen for the development of a Faro, community meetings are held and people from the community recruited to serve on various committee.  There would be a research committee charged with researching what are the greatest needs in the community.  For example, in one community, maybe the roads are in terrible shape and getting the roads fixed is identified as a critical need that the people would like to address.  A committee would then develop strategies for approaching the government to get the roads fixed.  Another committee would be charged with searching for and evaluating potential sites for the Faro.  Another committee would develop a proposal for the Faro, including a request for funding.  These processes take place over several years.  The process itself is social development, as the results also are social development projects.  Community members, including youth and young adults, are developed as community leaders and the community is improved in varied ways that are chosen by the community.

I had hoped to witness the community development firsthand, while it was going on.  I now realize that was somewhat unrealistic, in that the process necessarily takes a good bit of time--longer than the time I have available.  However, as it turns out, it was unrealistic for other reasons having to do with the current global financial crisis and the electoral cycle in Mexico City.  I'll have to settle for asking about the developmental process to see what I can glean from the stories.

Dia de los Muertos Holiday

Perhaps you've heard of it--Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead.  It's a holiday in Mexico (celebrated in many other Latin American countries and perhaps elsewhere as well) that has pre-Hispanic origins combined with Catholic observances of All Saints and All Souls days.  The celebrations vary somewhat from place to place and we have read that Oaxaca has particularly interesting ones. We have been to Oaxaca (city), the capital of Oaxaca (state), before for the Christmas holiday season, so we decided to take a trip there for this holiday.

A view of part of the historical section of Oaxaca city

In case you don't know much about Mexico's geography, Oaxaca is one of the southernmost states in Mexico, with beaches on the Pacific coast, jungle, and drier highlands (e.g., mountains).  Oaxaca city is in the highlands.  It's a colonial city, with a central core of buildings dating from the 1600s, including at least four large churches built during that time.  We traveled there by bus--nothing like in the US--a six-hour trip.  The country between Mexico City and Oaxaca, after about the first hour and a half, really reminds me of the southwest US.  It's mountainous and fairly dry.

In Oaxaca, the Dia de los Muertos celebration gets started on October 31.  Many (mostly young) people were in costume--Count Dracula-type vampires were popular with some of the youngest.  Older kids were dressed in various representations of death, such as black monk's hood with a scythe, skeleton, and the special Mexican version which is called La Catrina.  There were parades that involved a band and groups of kids in costume dancing.  On the 31st, the parade we saw included 10-15 kids in costumes on stilts.  Many of the girls were dressed as La Catrina.  At the front of the parade was a 10-foot long paper dragon (no idea of significance to Dia de los Muertos).

The next night, there was another parade with many costumes of monsters of various types (Orcs, etc.). On the 31st, we watched the parade for a little while but then left it to go to one of the cemetaries. I know this sounds creepy, but there were several activities being held at the cemetary. 

The street that ran along one side of the cemetary was essentially closed to traffic by the vendors' booths that were set up along both sides of it.  There was food of various types already cooked or being cooked.  One of the special dishes in Oaxaca is called a tlyuda--it's sort of a large, thin, flour tortilla, crisped on a big griddle and spread with a thin layer of refried beans, lettuce, tomato, various types of meat, and this wonderful white cheese.  There were also booths selling almost every other kind of thing--CDs, sunglasses, pizza.

The cemetary is surrounded by 30-foot high walls and the main entrance was open.  The part we were entering was the mausoleum that had slots for burials in the walls, around the inside of a rectangle.  Each of these slots--and they ran from floor to ceiling--had a lit candle at the front of it.  Across the wide corridor from the burial slots was an area that had lots more graves, family crypts, and elaborate markers.  The graves are typically covered with stone or concrete and a number of them have little buildings, statues, or other structural design elements.


Dia de los Muertos observations have several parts.  People set up altars with offerings for the dead family members who return to be honored.  These are frequently in homes, but also are in places of business. 

Altar in an Artisans' building

The altars may have photos or other representations of the dead, along with various things that the dead favored while living.  So for some, that would be foods they liked (chocolate, mole, fruit, etc.), bebidas or drinks (such as beer, mezcal, coffee, etc.) or representations of favorite activities.  For the latter, there might be a skeleton dancing, playing an instrument, smoking, etc. 

The altars are also decorated with lots of flowers.  There is usually a glass of water among the offerings (hey--the dead get thirsty in returning).  In addition to the altars, graves are cleaned up and decorated, sort of like what is done in the US for Memorial Day.  People spend a good bit of time in the cemetary cleaning and decorating.





We've been told that flower petals are strewn from the grave to the altar so that the dead can find the way home, but in practice we saw flower petals strewn only for a short distance outside the door of a house into where the altar was located.





When we first visited the cemetary and mausoleum, several altars were set up for a competition.  As I indicated above, there also were lots of candles and most of the available light was from the candles.  In one part of the mausoleum, a choir performed music that sounded like Gregorian chants.  At this point only a few graves had any flowers (except for one that was covered with funeral wreaths, probably because it had not been there very long).  In one section of the mausoleum, volunteers were serving hot chocolate and pan de yema, a type of slightly sweet bread.  Both of these foods are traditional to Dia de los Muertos, as is pan de muerte.  The atmosphere was somewhat festive.

We returned to the cemetary during the day on Nov. 2, All Souls Day. This is the day when the major cleaning and decorating is done.  Outside even more vendors had set up booths and there were also carnival rides.  Flower vendors had several large stalls with many, many beautiful flowers.The walkways inside the cemetary were packed with people.  Friends and family members greeted each other and stopped their work to talk.  Teens sat around looking bored.  There were a few people playing music and others selling snacks of various types. We felt intrusive and uncomfortable as spectators, where we had not during the previous visit, and left as quickly as we could, given the large crowd.


I'm not sure what we expected and I don't know whether we were perceived as being intrusive.  I think I'm more comfortable when I'm able to be a participant-observer rather than an observer/voyeur.  Not knowing anyone there for this event that seems both public and private, how could I be other than observer/voyeur? I think we walk this line frequently in international work, although it's most apparent to me when I am really being just another tourist.

The all-Catrina fashion show

High Altitude Cooking

The aims of this blog are sharing what I'm learning and communicating about what I'm doing.  Some of what I'm doing is everyday living, but frequently there's a twist to it that involves figuring stuff out and/or trial and error.

You may not know this, but Mexico City is one of the highest altitude national capitals.  Denver is called the "Mile High City" because of its altitude (we learned in elementary school that there are 5280 feet in a mile).  Mexico City's altitude of 7350 feet makes it the almost-one-and-a-half-mile high city.  So here's a little bit of physical science information that you might or might not know:  the higher the altitude, the lower the air pressure.  Big deal, you may be saying.  But if you're trying to cook and even moreso if you're trying to bake, it is a very big deal.  Lower air pressure makes water boil at a lower temperature, thus making it more difficult to cook things in or over boiling water--it takes longer because the water is not as hot as one would expect at a lower altitude.  Why is this an issue in baking?  Well, when water or any other liquid boils, it evaporates.  Thus, in baking a cake, for instance, liquid begins evaporating sooner and this can cause the cake to be dry.  What's more, lower air pressure also affects the leavening process, where certain ingredients produce gases that make the cake rise.  What happens here is that gas is produced faster (which is really what water boiling is as well--water changing from a liquid to a gaseous state), the cake rises faster, but because this is happening at a lower temperature that it would at or near sea level, the rest of the chemical reactions are out of synch.  The structure of the cake is created by the starches in the flour, the sugar, and the fats.  If the cake rises too fast, the center falls because it isn't as done as it should be.  So, there are various adjustments that one can make to a cake recipe to change the chemistry to try to account for the lower boiling, faster rising, etc.  (a little more flour, a little less sugar, a higher temperature, a longer cooking time, etc.).  Okay, end of first physical science lesson.

Remember above when I said Mexico City's altitude is 7350 feet?  Well, to the local population, it's 2240 meters.  That's right--they use the dreaded metric system, not only for distance but also for weights and dry volume (grams) and liquid volume (liters).  Sure, we know about how much two liters is (a two-liter bottle of Coke/soda/pop--duh!), but how do teaspoons and measuring cups compare?  For most of the cake ingredients, if you have measuring cups and spoons for the English system of measurement and your recipe is written in the English system, everything works fine.  But if the fat you are using is butter, the usual way it is measured is by the stick (which is 1/4 pound, 1/2 cup, or 8 tablespoons).  The wrapper of a stick of butter is conveniently marked into tablespoons with additional markings indicating 1/4 cup and 1/3 cup.  But if the butter is sold in a country that uses the metric system (which, by the way, is almost every country in the world except for the US), turns out a box of butter is not one pound and the four sticks of butter in the box are not 1/4 pound each.  With nothing to compare it to in the grocery store, the box looked about the right size.  However, when I opened it at home, the sticks looked like they were flattened--about the right dimensions in length and width but not in height.

All of this is to say, it's Doug's birthday and he was returning from the US, so I was going to surprise him by baking one of our favorite cakes.  First I had to try to buy an appropriate pan for it because, as I may have mentioned previously, there is NOTHING to bake in, in this otherwise very fully-furnished apartment.  Last weekend I found a pan that's not exactly right but I thought it would work.  First I made sure I could get all of the ingredients for the cake.  Then I got my sister to fill in some details in the recipe (via Facebook, of course). 

Saturday afternoon I started to bake the cake.  First step, as my mother taught me, is turn the oven on.  Uh-oh--the oven temperature is measured in degrees Centigrade and my recipe calls for 400 degrees Fahrenheit.  Yes, we learned the conversion from Fahrenheit to Centigrade in school, but it's one of those things that I don't really remember.  I could figure it out, but I don't remember it.  Luckily, though, we now have the internets, so I quickly found a conversion calculator.  If I remember correctly, it was 224 degrees C.--something like that.  So I turned the oven on to that temperature.

For this particular cake, making the batter involves melting the butter with water and powdered cocoa.  After this mixture boils, it's added to the sugar and flour and then the rest of the ingredients are stirred in.  So I usually start the butter melting with the water and cocoa, then measure the sugar and flour, etc.  I opened the butter box and dumped out the--oops--flattened sticks of butter.  Shit!  Read on the stick of butter (mantequilla) that it's 90 grams.  Great--how much of a quarter pound is that?  Internets to the rescue once again.  Of course I needed to round somewhat and eyeball where to cut the sticks of butter, but I had enough for both the cake and the icing.

So, how'd the cake turn out?  Well, let me tell you that although I knew that high altitude baking is tricky, I learned all of the specifics that are in the first part of this post WHILE THE CAKE WAS IN THE OVEN.  When I noticed that it looked funny (like, the outside edge was tall and the middle 90 percent of the cake was much shorter).  Needless to say, it's not the right consistency, but it tastes better than several others I made experimentally when I was 13 or 14 (once I got baking powder and baking soda mixed up and used the wrong one, resulting in a two-layer cake that was only about an inch tall and somewhat the consistency of sawdust; once I decided to substitute green food coloring for the red that's called for in a Red Velvet Cake--that cake looked like it was made of spinach).  I think I was so preoccupied with the differences in measures that I was having to deal with that I forgot to explore the OTHER difference--the effect of the altitude!  My mother always said "Live and learn" (as she choked down chocolate sawdust/spinach velvet cake).  Only time will tell whether I learned!

Random Tidbits

I don't think I have anything major and new to write about, which maybe is an indication of settling in here.  However, I have written some notes to myself about observations I've made--small, curious things that don't amount to much individually but, taken together, do communicate more about the context and the essence of the place.  Sometimes things that are curious or strange to me may have more to do with living in a huge city for the first time than with living in Mexico, but people who have lived in New York City or Chicago will have to judge that.

Grooming in Public
Every day that I go to my university, I use the Metrobus, one of the many types of public transportation here.  It is a double- or triple-sectioned bus that uses a dedicated lane (the extreme left-hand lane) on a two-way street.  Buses going in both directions share stops that are between the northbound and southbound lanes.  The bus is usually quite crowded (I mean, seriously packed).  The front "car" is supposedly reserved for women, children, older people, and people with disabilities, which is more or less respected by the rest of the men.  The way many people drive in Mexico (especially taxi drivers--and there are a LOT of taxis) is go about as fast as you can until you have to stop.  The brakes must be really good here (or replaced frequently) because stops are sometimes quite sudden!  The Metrobus drivers drive the same way, I think.  Thus, it's not exactly a smooth ride.  Everyone holds on, usually with two hands (everyone who is standing and has two hands, anyway).  What is really amazing to me is that women frequently are putting on their makeup as they are riding the Metrobus!  If they are standing, they may have one arm wrapped around one of the upright poles that are for holding onto. And they are putting on eye shadow, eye liner, mascara--even curling their eyelashes.  It looks eye-endangering to me.  I'm not sure what's more curious--the putting on of eye makeup in this setting itself, or the fact that sometimes they are using a metal teaspoon instead of an eyelash curler.  The first time I saw this, I thought, "Oh, she must have just forgotten her eyelash curler but had a metal spoon in her purse...".  But when I was remarking to our Spanish teacher about the applying of mascara, eyelash curling, etc. she asked whether they were using an eyelash curler or a spoon--apparently, it's a common practice (and I've seen it several times since then).

Just Call Me Teri
Everybody else does.  I introduce myself as Theresa, but most people, even if they are meeting me for the first time, almost immediately change it to Teri.  I've accepted it--I know it's a friendly shortening of the name.  Really, I have nothing to complain about because it's easier to have a name that people can pronounce rather than one such as Doug ("Doog") or Jeff ("Ypts"). 

This Ain't No New York Deli
In one of the restaurants we've been to several times, I asked one of the managers why all of the music they play is in English (it's '80s pop mostly) and he said, sounding surprised that I didn't know this, it's because the restaurant is supposed to be like a New York deli.  Let me describe it and see if you think it's like a New York deli:  it's on a rounded corner and open on close to 180 degrees of a circle; the tables are all probably 3-4 feet by 3-4 feet and at least three feet apart;  there's a full bar; there's a large, upholstered couch in an area in the corner facing a big, flatscreen TV; there's a glass case with some meats and cheeses in it; the place advertises its specialties as coffee and mezcal; I don't think they have cheesecake.  Really, the only thing that seems remotely like a New York deli is the case with meat and cheese.  I think it's mostly for decoration.  To be fair, I wasn't looking for there to be a New York deli here, and perhaps it's payback for the authenticity of many, many Mexican restaurants in the US.

Class Differences?
If you've read my blog previously, you might remember that I was really bothered by the shoeshine guy who tried to polish my black tennis shoes while I was trying to walk away from him and Doug and I were yelling "NO!"  Well, one time I was at the previously-mentioned restaurant that is not a New York deli and noticed a shoeshine guy getting the business of some businessman, while the businessman was seated at a table.  The businessman also was enjoying the cigarette-lighting services of the wait staff. 

Speaking of Cigarettes...
There are several startling differences between the food service operations at UNAM and what I'm used to in the US.  For one thing, the prices are extremely reasonable--I pay the equivalent of about 60 cents for a cup of coffee (okay, it's not good coffee, but neither is anything available at OSU in my opinion!).  Today I had lunch for about $1.60.  It seems they aren't trying to get every penny out of the students that they can.  The other really strange thing is that the food outlets sell cigarettes--single cigarettes.  At one of the food places, there's even a lighter on a string, hanging on the potato chip display.

Ah, as I'm writing this, I'm hearing the sound of another roving vendor, which I just identified last night.  The sound is one of those bulb-and-horn things that sometimes used to be on bicycles.  It's on a bicycle-cart-thing that has a big, round basket on the front and one of those big thermoses like you see Gatorade dumped out of onto the winning football coach.  In the basket are somewhat sweet breads of some kind (our doorman said donuts, but I doubt they're actually donuts) and in the thermos is coffee.  It's a fairly typical thing for people to have for dinner--around 10 p.m.

Social Action--There and Here



One of the younger Fulbright-Garcia Robles fellows lamented, as he posted an update about Occupy Wall Street, "Why am I not there?".  It's a strange thing to watch what's going on, and with the technology of live streaming video, we were able to do just that last weekend when hundreds of people were arrested/detained/whatever on the Brooklyn Bridge.  As I told my younger friend, this is the first time a movement like this has sprung up in the US in my adult lifetime and I have hopes that it really amounts to something.




This grafiti refers to the casualties in Pres. Felipe
Calderon's war on narco traffickers--50,000
deaths and counting, it says.



Meanwhile, back in Mexico, there's social action worth mentioning, too.  One current movement is called "Moviemento por la Paz con Justicia y Dignidad" (movement for peace with justice and dignity).  This is a movement established by Javier Sicilia, a poet whose son was murdered earlier this year in narco trafficking related violence.  The movement recently held "Caravan por la Paz," which was a road trip of some 630 people in 14 buses and seven cars, for 10 days, from Mexico City through central and southern Mexico.  With approximately two stops per day, the group marched and held demonstrations in a number of cities, towns and villages that have been savaged by violence.  In some of the locations, the violence has been at the hands of narco trafficking; in others, the conflict is more longstanding, based in oppression of indigenous people, and at the hands of the state or entities sponsored by the state.  Part of the process was to hear the experiences of people in the various locations.  One of the Fulbrighters whose research is related to state response to violence experiences accompanied the delegation.  Here's a link to more information:  http://movimientoporlapaz.mx/.  It sounds like it was very interesting and moving.  (The website is in Spanish but has plenty of pictures.)

What I really wanted to write about this time, though, takes us back to 1968.  The Olympics were to be in Mexico City--a first for a developing country.  At the same time, there was a very active student movement that was seeking more support for education, more freedom, and more democracy.  The students had had large demonstrations in the Zocolo, but the government was unwilling to budge an inch.  Finally, on October 2, 1968, another demonstration was planned in another location in the city--the Plaza de Tres Culturas (plaze of three cultures, which has Aztec ruins, structures from the Spanish colonial period as well as modern Mexican; photo left).  The crowd gathered was reportedly smaller than those earlier in the summer, but still numbered 1000-2000.  Various regiments of the army arrived and surrounded the plaza, and a massacre occurred with a yet-unknown but large number of deaths.  After that, the student movement (what was left of it) went into hiding.  (Here is a link to a very moving NPR story about the massacre:  http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=97546687.  The story is in English, with some Spanish speakers translated.)  It's chilling listening to accounts of what happened and the almost total secrecy that has existed since 1968 (I was in the third or fourth grade, to give you an idea of the scale of time here).  Sure, we had a national guard shooting during a protest in the late '60s (or early '70s?) in the U.S.--in Ohio, even.  Four students were killed and a number of others were injured.  It was definitely a shock and awful, but here possibly more than 1000 people died or were "disappeared".  This effectively ended the student movement.  Most of the Olympians had no idea it had happened because it was immediately covered up.  Reportedly, this affected Mexico for many years.

"Don't pardon and don't forget"



October 2 is remembered here through several different events.  I had learned of a demonstration in the Zocolo, from a student group at the school of social work.  Doug and I were planning to visit a different historical site, but in figuring out how to get there, we realized that it was very near La Plaza de las tres Culturas, so we decided to head there instead.  This was early afternoon and we were thinking that probably anything that had been happening at Plaza de las tres Culturas would be over.  However, the large police presence at the Metro station indicated otherwise. 

Groups of (mostly) young people were in formation for a parade, with banners for various (mostly leftist) political parties, facemasks, and flags.  We learned that the theme of the demonstration was opposing increased militarization of the country and campuses.  We decided to observe for a while--Doug was taking pictures we were both trying to figure out what some of the banners meant.  The march started moving and we moved alongside.  We were pretty near the end of the marchers when they started moving.  At first, the police presence was minimal, with some vehicles following the marchers and a few officers on foot here and there.  However, the closer we got to the Zocolo, the more police there were, and the more heavily fortified. 

Five or six blocks from the Zocolo, the march turned down one of the narrow streets in the main historical center (Cinco de Mayo).  Large, metal walls had been put up to protect the buildings, which also made the street several feet narrower.  At times, we could walk behind the police (like in the photo to the left here), but other times there wasn't room for that and we had to walk in front of the police who were dressed in riot gear.  Some of them had large fire extinguishers.  Note that we were not participants in the march, but rather observers accompanying the marchers (it's illegal for foreign nationals to participate in protests).  Because we have been to Mexico a number of times and attended large, public events, this is not the first time we have seen a large police presence in riot gear, so I'm less freaked out about it than I would be otherwise (the first time was at an event that translates as the Night of the Radishes, a festival in which groups compete for prizes with scenes constructed from large, carved radishes--some of which are up to two feet in length.  That time, the riot police were shoulder to shoulder around the radish displays.)  However, this was the first time that we have been more or less inside a protest march.


This kid is painting something akin to "F the police".
Note the gringa in the pink tee shirt and the men walking
 in the opposite direction.

The marchers were well-behaved and the police were, as well.  I had interacted with several of them--one who moved over to make room for me to get up on a curb alongside where the marchers were entering a long underpass under several crossing streets (I was not about to accompany them through a tunnel!  Way too paranoid for that.).  As I said, the marchers, overall, were well-behaved, but there were a few people along who were spray-painting grafiti as they went, as the photo to the left illustrates.  This was one of a series of tags and I was walking ahead, trying to get further away from the tagger. Very shortly after this picture was taken, the tagger ran ahead of me, and the two men walking toward us grabbed him.  They were police in civilian garb.  Doug and I ran to the other side of the street (which was also lined with police in riot gear.  The marchers, seeing that someone was being detained, turned on the police and began yelling insults at the police (one of which was "Pitufos!", which is the name for the Smurfs in Mexico,  others were, of course, more profane).  The police on that side of the street closed ranks and raised the riot shields; reinforcements also ran to that side.

We had come a long way with the marchers, but at this point, we wanted to leave.  The first street we tried to turn down was blocked by officers who would not let us through, but a block later we were allowed to exit Cinco de Mayo down another side street.  Highly adrenalized, we figured out where we were and made our way to the nearest Metro station that was not in the direction of the marchers.

I think the Mexican flag with crosses in the center represents
people who have died, such as the protesters of 1968

The incident with the tagger apparently was an isolated one as the newspaper the next day reported a peaceful march (and the newspaper I read is one that would have reported widespread conflicts between the marchers and police).

 The banner below is from the school of social work at the university with which I'm affiliated.  I think the one further below is from another social work program outside of Mexico City.  As I understand it, my school is the only one in Mexico City.  It has a LARGE undergraduate program and a smallish master's program.  I plan to write about social work education in a later post. 
  



"Stop the militarization of academia and the country"
Escuela Nacional de Trabaho Social
"National School of Social Work"
Universidad Nacional Autonoma de Mexico
National Autonomous University of Mexico

"If you want security, don't ask the police, demand education"



"Social Work--We are preparing to improve the dignity of the people"

Dias de la Patria

Quiz of the day: When does Mexico celebrate its independence from Spain?
a. July 4
b. Sept. 15

c. May 5 (Cinco de Mayo)

d. Sept. 16

Answer interpretation:

If you said a--July 4, you just might be from a red state;

If you said c--May 5, you just might be a Corona Light-sipping gringo;
If you said b--Sept. 15 or d--Sept. 16, you would be correct. Actually, it's both b and d as I'll explain.

El Dia de la Independencia was a little over a week ago, September 16. The holiday is actually celebrated over two days (who doesn't like that?!) for an interesting historical reason. Doug and I went to the Zocolo for the celebration, so this post will include pictures and commentary on the happenings and some of the history.

Location: the Zocolo--this is the historic center of Mexico City, said to be the largest public square in the world, next to Red Square in Moscow. It's big. Currently, it is configured as an open plaza with a giant flagpole in the middle from which is flown a giant Mexican flag.

The daily raising and lowering of the flag is a ceremony somewhat akin to the changing of the guard in London, complete with a band and marching around the square. Around the Zocolo are located the National Palace on one side, the National Cathedral on another side, two blocks of city government buildings across from the National Cathedral, and another long block of buildings across from the National Palace, in which the ground floor houses some retail outlets and the top floors house hotels with open terrace restaurants. Various events take place in the Zocolo--concerts, including one by Shakira a couple of years ago with close to 210,000 attendees (the record largest gathering); public demonstrations/protests/occupations, such as one by (former) electrical workers that had gone on for more than a year; viewing of Mexico playing in the World Cup last year on giant TV screens; and an ice rink over the Christmas season.

Why two days?Mexico's struggle for independence from Spain is said to have begun with "El Grito" or the cry/yell for independence by Miguel Hidalgo y Castillo on September 16, 1810. The initial rebellion against the Spanish colonial government failed, but this event is still considered the beginning of the war of independence. The celebration of it was moved to September 15 by long-time dictator Profirio Diaz because September 15 was his birthday! (The reign of Profirio Diaz is also the reason for term limits for elected officials--somehow, he was always the only candidate.) Today, El Grito is made by the president late in the evening of Sept. 15. The president comes out of the palace onto a balcony (see below), rings a large bell several times, and issues the cry (here translated courtesy of Wikipedia):

Mexicans!
Long live the heroes that gave us the Fatherland!
Long live Hidalgo!
Long live Morelos!
Long live Josefa Ortiz de Dominguez!
Long live Allende!
Long live Aldama and Matamoros!
Long live National Independence!
Long Live Mexico! Long Live Mexico! LONG LIVE MEXICO!!!!

The president's rendition is punctuated by the crowd shouting in response "Vive!" (which is what Wiki translated as "long live"), with a raised fist pump. Then the president waves a big Mexican flag back and forth a number of times. This is followed by singing of the national hymn and extensive fireworks.

Fireworks, facing the National Cathedral

On the second day, September 16, the Zocolo is filled with military personnel and equipment for a demonstration of solidarity with the president and a parade from the Zocolo down several city streets to the Angel de la Independencia statue on Paseo de la Reforma. The parade includes flyovers by various current and historical aircraft, tanks, grenade launchers and other large weaponry, and various watercraft carried by motorized vehicles.

Tanks lined up on the Zocolo

I think this fires gas-propelled grenades

Check out the unusual camoflage
(the walking brush pille)

Our Experience--we were in danger of being crushed once and trampled another time; clearly, personal space was violated! We also really, really enjoyed it.We had decided that we wanted to go to the Zocolo for the festivities. Doug returned from the US that day, so it was late in the afternoon/early in the evening when we were ready to go. I tried to call a taxi and got no answer, which wasn't a good sign. I called a different company, though, and we did get a car sent. Soon we started to notice streets that had been closed, until finally the street we were on was closed shortly in front of us. The driver had to turn back toward the direction from which we had come and then the drive got even more confusing! And it started to rain. I realized that we hadn't brought umbrellas, which is really dumb in Mexico City because it has probably rained 3/4 of the days that I have been here, in the late afternoon or early evening. The driver had warned us that he probably wasn't going to be able to drive all the way to where we were staying because of street closures around the Zocalo--we understood that, having experienced it last year when we were in Mexico City. About three blocks from the Zocalo, we couldn't go any farther in the car so it was time to walk in the light rain. When we got one block from the Zocolo, we encountered tight security, complete with metal detectors and bag X-ray. The screeners wanted me to open my backpack because they had seen a bottle in it (yes, I was carrying a bottle of wine to the hotel). They were not allowing alcohol into the secured area, but I convinced them we were going to a hotel and promised not to open the wine except at the hotel. Amazingly, they let me through. (As Doug would point out, they were not police or military, but probably volunteers. Later, after we had been to the hotel, police took our bottles of water when we were going through a different security point.)

By this time, the rain had stopped. In the Zocalo, there was a stage set up for live music and giant TV screens on which the musical entertainment was projected so that it could be seen from just about any location in the square.

The buildings surrounding the Zocolo were decorated with lights, some of which formed intricate displays, such as various symbols of Mexico (an eagle perched on large prickly pear cactus, holding a rattlesnake in its beak--the symbol from the flag, left) and its independence (Hidalgo and the Angel of Independence, below).

People were in front of the stage watching the performance and others were gathering facing the palace. We walked around for a while taking pictures and then decided to take up a location in front of the palace since that was where the action was going to occur. Then it started to rain. Then it started to pour. Then people who were in front of the palace started running for the adjacent government buildings which have covered porticos. By the time we got to the buildings, the sheltered space was gone and we were almost crushed between people who were already there and MORE people who were trying to get under the cover. We got absolutely drenched, and it was a little chilly. The rain let up and most of the people went back out into the Zocolo. We decided to stay under the cover of the porticos, and we were glad we did because there were intermittent downpours the rest of the evening!

The pop/country music performance yielded to a series of more traditional performances--dances, mariachi music, and finally traditional Mexican songs that many people in the crowd sang along with. (I had to convince Doug not to sing "ay, yay, yay, yay I am the Frito Bandito"--not cool.) There was a period of fireworks, then more singing by choirs in front of the palace.

Finally, the screens began showing a ceremony from inside the palace, in which a color guard presented the flag to the president and then the president and his wife paraded down long hallways to the balcony. As described above, the president rang the bell and orated the grito. It may sound corny, but it was really kind of exhilarating to have this large crowd shout back at the appropriate times. By the end, we were shouting, too, "Vive Mexico!"

The next day we were back for the military exhibition and parade. People were packed in much tighter than my comfort would allow. The parade was pretty interesting, though. I don't think I've ever seen in person many of the weapons.  Glad it was a peaceful parade though and not real use of any of them!

Culture Shock

I assume that everyone who is reading this has heard of "culture shock" but please bear with me as I wax academic and provide some definitions, just so we're on more or less the same page to start out. Culture, at its base, consists of "a network of shared meanings that are taken for granted as reality by those interacting within the network" (Zapf, 1991, p. 105). Although culture is surely learned through socialization beginning with infancy, it eventually takes root in the consciousness of individuals and is the lens through which the external world is interpreted. So, when a person is immersed in a different culture by, say, moving to another country, the taken-for-granted meanings frequently are no longer relevant. Since the person is not used to needing to figure out what EVERYTHING means from scratch, at first she may not realize this and continue to interpret happenings through her cultural lens. When she realizes that her unquestioned internal meanings might no longer be relevant, she experiences what is known as culture shock. The literature describes culture shock as having several phases; some authors identify four phases and others identify five, some starting with a positive appraisal and others with initial negative appraisal. What I'm intending to do with this post is tell you some of what I've observed in myself and others in regard to culture shock.

I've previously written about this a little bit, about the concept of personal space. Of course, I've also written about a number of cultural observations as well. Culture shock, though, has emotional content that I've only hinted at.

The first time Doug and I traveled to Mexico was eight years ago, for a conference at which Doug was presenting a paper. We spoke VERY little Spanish at the time (mostly I knew some words for food, how to ask what time it is but not how to interpret the answer, how to count to ten, curse words but not really what they meant--from growing up in west Texas). We were in Merida a couple of days before the conference was to start, so we were going off to visit the town square. Looking at a map trying to figure out how to get from where we were to the town square, I made the astute observation "It would be easier to figure this out if all the streets weren't named 'Calle'." What I didn't know at the time was 1) "street" is "calle" in Spanish; and 2) the order of words in the name of a street is different in Spanish than it is in English. So, Calle 8 is 8th Street. I was feeling frustrated with the difference; when we figured out that calle is street, I also felt dumb (maybe the feeling is embarassment or self-loathing). I don't think I consciously blamed Mexican culture for that, but probably did at some level.

After the conference was over, we were staying for another week for vacation and I had planned a driving trip to various other places in the Yucatan (Merida is the capital of the Yucatan state). Driving was much easier than in England, except that there were highway signs that we had no idea what they said (that still happens sometimes). The second place we were going was an island off the north coast of the Yucatan peninsula. We were going to need to park the car in a village on the mainland and take a ferry to the island. I thought there would be parking lots where we would pay to park (the guide book had indicated there would be places to park so I thought that's what it meant). We got to the little village and didn't see any parking lots. We did see the pier and the ferry and a number of fishing boats. Then we saw people waving us toward a low building of some kind. When we got closer, we could see that there were cars parked VERY close together in the building. An old man pointed me toward a space, Doug got out of the car because there was not going to be room to open both doors, and I parked. By the time I got out, the old man was lowering a hammock, showing us that he slept there to guard the cars, and Doug was trying to pay him. The man was refusing to take the money, so Doug thought that meant we were supposed to pay someone else. Two other men (well, one man and one teenager) came over, so Doug was asking them where we were to pay. One of those guys spoke a little bit of English and we finally figured out that we were supposed to pay when we came back to get the car! Once again, we felt like the big, stupid Gringos. They didn't seem to mind, though. Then we were trying to ask about the ferry and the man indicated that he had a fishing boat and would take us to the island (for a fee, of course). That seemed more interesting that a commercial ferry, so we went for it.

These are examples of where our conceptual maps didn't reflect the reality of Mexico in terms of language/word order and how a parking lot works (or even what a parking lot is!). When we tried to apply our conceputal maps, we were frustrated. When we realized our conceptual maps didn't work, we were embarassed. Other people might have been angry (I had my own angry reactions to cultural differences in India, but that's another story!).

The early experiences of culture shock, as I said earlier, are characterized by negative appraisals by some authors. I think both Doug and I had mild experiences of this. They weren't horribly negative, but there certainly were times of frustration. For some people, the early period in experiencing a new culture is more infatuation--everything about the new culture is so interesting and so special. In the Mexican culture, for instance, family is so much more important than it is in the dominant US culture. The second time we were in Mexico, we were with a group of social workers and social work educators (mostly) from the US. We certainly heard expressions of this--Mexican culture was being perceived by some in our group as so much better than our home culture because of the emphasis on family. Some authors refer to perceptions such as these as a "honeymoon" phase of culture shock. I, on the other hand, have felt almost somewhat offended when people who have just met me ask if I have kids. I heard this as "you should have kids or you're not normal;" instead, I think it is just a reflection of the importance of family here.

If one is immersed in a different culture for long enough, inevitably experiences of both types happen. When I wrote several weeks ago about how dogs are different here than in the US, there was probably some of that overly-positive appraisal happening. However, I would still say that most of the dogs I see in our neighborhood here are better behaved in public (even though there have been a few instances of dogs left outside a restaurant howling, barking, and going totally wild when their people returned to them. I blame that on the people!).

Mostly, I don't perceive of things here in general as being better than or worse than in the US--just different. Some of the things that are different I like quite a lot most of the time. For instance, there is a high degree of politeness--greetings are expected both when you enter and when you leave. That's nice most of the time. I think I will have more fully adapted to the culture here when I don't even think about it but just do it, when it's neither nice nor a pain in the butt, it just is.

As I'm writing this, I'm hearing the sharp whistle used by the guy who goes around with a machine to sharpen knives. Talk about something different!


The article I referenced above is: Cross-cultural transitions and wellness:
Dealing with culture shock. International Journal for the Advancement of Counseling, 15 (2), pp. 105-119 by Michael Kim Zapf.

Mexico City Political Update

This is a brief and partial follow-up to my previous post on politics in Mexico. 

The first update is, an alert reader suggested that the suspicious/premature (or whatever) burning of election records happened in an earlier presidential election in which fraud is widely believed to have happened.  I haven't been able to confirm or deny that, but it's entirely possible that I mixed up details of accounts of previous elections in Mexico. 

The second update is much more current:  the declared candidate for nomination for the governorship of Mexico City I wrote about last time was fired from his post as Secretary of Social Development.  He has said in press conferences and interviews that the firing was politically motivated.  I haven't sorted out the details, but the current governor (who did the firing) is apparently a candidate for the presidential nomination.  I think they are from the same party, but perhaps from different factions, so that might have something to do with it.

Admitedly, that's a pretty vague report and analysis. If you get tired of hearing about the U.S. presidential hopefuls, google Mexico presidential elections and enjoy! 

On a sidenote, but not unrelated, if you try to read about Mexico politics, be prepared for acronyms that are never explained.  One of them refers to the candidate from the left who ran against the current president from the far right.  It's his initials, AMLO, which always makes me think of LMAO, but really they're not the same thing.:)

A Little Bit About Politics in Mexico

Those of you who know me well may be surprised that I'm writing about politics since I usually avoid discussing politics (US politics, especially) as much as I avoid discussing religion.  However, learning about politics in a different context is interesting to me--I think I'm less emotional about most things when taking an anthropological view.  As usual, what I'm going to say is a combination of new knowledge and things I have learned from previous experiences in Mexico.

Don't glaze over here during this brief historical overview!  I really do have a reason for telling you all of this. (obligatory disclaimer:  this is my understanding of history and events; I have not extensively fact-checked my recollections of things I have read and lectures I have heard)

Prior to the arrival of the Spanish in what is now Mexico, the land was populated by various indigenous peoples.  Unlike Eurpoean settlement in what is now the US, the Spanish didn't kill off and/or drive out the previous occupants.  This is not to say that they didn't kill indigenous people, either through violent means or through disease, but in addition to that, they enslaved the people and put them to work.  They also heavily promoted conversion to Catholicism.  Mexico as a country was established after a revolution against Spain; independence from Spain was declared in 1810 but not won for several decades.  Then in 1910, there was a popular revolution that eventually resulted in a new constitution.  The national government of Mexico is structured similarly to that of the US (bi-cameral legislature and a president), but there are some key differences.  One difference is that a single political party held the presidency and the balance of power at most levels for more than 70 years, perhaps in part due to proportional representation. Term limits in the constitution prevent re-election after a six-year term of office, so there was consistent turn-over in the person who occupied the presidency, but not the party.  That party's influence waned in the past 15 years or so (but may be waxing again) when control of elections was removed to oversight by an independent body.  In 2000, a candidate from the far right was elected by voters seeking a change.  Then in 2006 the presidential election was highly contested between a candidate of the party of the left and another candidate of the party of the far right.  The results were so close (mere percentage points apart) and because irregularities existed in counting of some of the votes (does this sound familiar?) the candidate from the left refused to accept the result and there were months of occupation of the central square of Mexico City by supporters of the left.  The representative of the far right took the seat of the presidency (although he entered into the legislative chamber through a side door and was whisked back out it when scuffles broke out).  Some time later, there was a mysterious fire in the election bureau and the voting records were destroyed. The war declared by the current president on the narcotrafficking cartels and the resulting level of violence and death among Mexicans in the past several years has resulted in doubt that his party can mount a successful third bid for the presidency.

The party of the left has held the governorship of Mexico City since direct election of the governor and legislature was instituted in 1997.  The presidential candidate from the left who almost (or actually, depending on point of view) won in 2006 was governor of Mexico City.  Under the leftists, Mexico City laws and policies have become much more progressive than those of any state in Mexico or of the Mexican federal government (or, in many ways, of the large, familiar neighbor to the north).  For instance, in Mexico City, abortion is legal as is same-sex marriage and euthanasia.  Additionally, there is a small monthly pension for older people and a number of progressive social programs and initiatives.  The progressive nature of social policy and social programs is, of course, what attracted me to Mexico City to do my research.

Elections are coming up, next summer I think, and candidates are beginning to announce.  THIS IS WHY I'M TELLING YOU THIS.  Someone who is a faculty member in the Escuela Nacional de Trabajo Social (that's national school of social work) at UNAM (my university here) publicly announced his candidacy today for the governorship of the Federal District of Mexico (Mexico City).  I have been to a couple of events where he was the featured speaker, one of which was a celebration for the national Social Workers Day.  He occupies a cabinet-level position in the government of Mexico City (secretary of the department of social development), so is directly involved in development and other types of services.  My research collaborator also works in that department.  I had gathered from various articles and editorials posted by my research collaborator that a candidacy was planned--and it looks like it has a good chance of success according to a couple of newspapers.  Part of his progressive message is a feminist perspective--imagine that!

This is pretty exciting--a social work professor potentially occupying one of the highest elected offices in the country.  And I get to be a fairly up-close spectator during the campaign process.  I sort of feel like I'm in the right place at the right time.

Food Issues

One of the things people said to me (in reference to no longer having a gallbladder) when they learned I was going to be living in Mexico for an extended period of time had to do with "but how are you going to deal with all the greasy Mexican food?"  As I gently explained, food in Mexico isn't exactly what you might get at your local Ole Taco, where most things are fried and/or drenched with a goodly amount of cheese sauce.  So I though maybe writing a bit about food might be appropriate to illustrate some differences between the perceptions people in the US have of Mexico, and the reality that I'm experiencing.  As with most things I've written about so far, I'm sure I'm over-generalizing, both about US perceptions and Mexico reality, so look for the kernels of "truth" here.

I mentioned in a previous post that Doug and I were continuing our usual habit of eating out frequently and there are many, many restaurants in our immediate neighborhood.  About a quarter of a block away is an intersection with restaurants on three of the four corners, for instance.  With all of the nearby restaurants and all of the eating out, guess what type of food we've had most frequently:  Italian.  We've also had Lebanese, Uruguyan, some kind of stir-fry (that was Doug; I was scared), as well as some hanburgers and sandwiches of various types.  A place that's a block away on our street bills itself as "in the style of a New York deli," which cracks me up.  It's very good, as are NY delis, but really the only resemblance between the two are a case with some meat and cheese. 

When we go out for breakfast (usually not first thing in the morning but more for lunch), Doug will often have an omlette with spinach or asparagus and I will have one of three things:  huevos rancheros (you've heard of that), chilaquiles (you might have heard of that), or molletes (I doubt you've heard of these).  Molletes use day old bread (usually some kind of bun or bread for a torta), which may first be toasted, spread with mashed beans (either pinto or black beans) and a slice of cheese, heated under a broiler until the cheese melts.  They are served with pico de gallo.  Sometimes they have thin ham or thin turkey slices.  We first had them a couple of years ago during one of our homestays in connection with a Spanish language school.  Those, followed by arrachera (a marinated flank steak), are the Mexican foods that I've eaten most frequently since we got here.  Not a single basket of chips has been placed on our table, even in Mexican food restaurants.

I have some other food issues to discuss.  When you travel to Mexico, you are typically warned not to eat or drink anything that's not boiled (the water), cooked or peeled with your own hands.  The reason to avoid vegetables that are not cooked and fruit that is not peeled is that the bacteria and whatever else that finds its way onto fruit and vegetables is stuff we aren't used to.  Same with water that isn't purified in some way.  When Doug and I first started traveling to Mexico, I was paranoid about fruits and vegetables.  Now, I'm conservative at first, with tomato on a sandwich, for instance.  But if I'm going to live here, not just visit for a couple of weeks, I have to be able to eat fruit and vegetables.  From some of our previous stays in Mexico, we learned that there are ways to disinfect fruit and vegetables, so that's what we're doing at home unless they are going to be cooked.  One of the hardest things for me, though, is that I am used to munching on green or red pepper, parsley, zucchini, etc.  when I'm cutting it up in cooking.  I'm having to restrain myself!  We've made it three weeks with neither of us getting sick, though!

Of course, it's always a little weird cooking in someone else's kitchen and I'm having some issues with that, too.  We've rented an apartment that's fully furnished, complete with kitchen stuff, etc.  There are no less than three pair of scissors in the kitchen among the utensils, but there is nothing to measure with--no measuring cups of either kind, no measuring spoons.  There also is no strainer/collander and nothing to stir with in non-stick pans except a spatula.  The first time I cooked pasta, I had to fish it out of the cooking water with a wooden salad spoon and fork!  We made a trip to a Wal-Mart-type store (it is probably even owned by Wal-Mart, sadly) where I was able to buy a large seive and a large spoon of a material that won't hurt the non-stick surface.  I have not, however, been able to find measuring spoons or cups.  Good thing I don't follow most recipes very closely!

One of the things that I really like here is there are many types of stores.  For breads and some other kinds of baked goods, there are panaderias.  For cakes and other types of desserts, there are pastelerias.  There are also frutarias and carnicerias, although I haven't seen either of those in this area.  There is a tortillaria fairly nearby, though.  You can buy all of these types of things at the supermarket, but tortillas from the tortillaria are extremely fresh and good.  And, all of these small, specialized stores are part of the economy.  Even though there isn't a frutaria, there is a guy who sells fruit out of the back of the truck.  Just like in Columbus, it's much better than what's in the supermarket.

All types of fresh food are available in markets, one of which is within walking distance (past the tortillaria).  I'm afraid some of it is a bit too fresh for me just yet, though.  I don't really want to see the meat being "processed" out in the open!  Maybe before we leave I'll get up my nerve.

A little bit about commerce--selling stuff in the street or whereever one might be

Again I'm combining recent observations with some previous ones to describe an aspect of life in Mexico, that of encountering people who are selling various things in various locations that would not be recognized as retail outlets in the US.  I was thinking of a subtitle along the lines of "the good, the bad, and the ugly," but actually needed more than three categories, so I'll add a fourth, "the benign".

What I am referring to here is inclusive of:
--a guy on a bicycle cart with a loudspeaker and a recording touting various food offerings;
--a small child going table to table in a restaurant with little packets of chewing gum (chicle);
--a truck driving through the neighborhood sounding a sort of pinging or whistling chime;
--a person (usually man or boy) trying to polish your shoes, even while you are walking and saying "no!";
--a man with a cart with fruit, moving along the sidewalk and calling out the names of the fruit;
--people with various jewelry, toys, baskets, trinkets, either in stationary locations or approaching tables in restaurants;
--people going through cars on the subway (Metro) selling chewing gum, candy bars, candy, multi-part puzzle toys, snacks of various sorts, CDs (bootleg?  recordings of their own music?);
--people going among vehicles stopped at a stoplight selling much of the same stuff as on the metro, but also including newspapers, refrescos (bottled water or softdrinks), bagged cotton candy, fruit;
--people delivering their own live performance, vocal or on various musical instruments, with varying quality and length of performance.

I have to say that my categorization of almost all of this was for a long time "bad" or at least "annoying".  When I had an opportunity to spend more time in one location and in residential neighborhoods in various cities (notably Cuernavaca, Oaxaca and San Cristobal de las Casas) over the past several years, however, I came to see that much of this is actually just the way certain things are sold.  In fact, some of it is very much a service that consumers want and need.  For instance, the trucks going through neighborhoods with loudspeakers and or chimes are the way in which cannisters of gas (for cooking, heating water, etc.) are delivered.  These suckers are about three feet tall and quite heavy, I imagine.  I know I wouldn't want to carry one!  These trucks are also the way in which purified (drinking) water is delivered in five-gallon bottles.  In some locations, there are even water tanker trucks that fill tanks on the roofs of houses with water for washing, bathing, flushing of toilets.  Obviously, I would have to categorize all of this as "good".  This is the way people get things that they need on a daily basis.

The people with carts, bicycle or otherwise, who are selling food items like fresh fruit or various cooked items (such as burritos, tamales, oaxacaquenos--whatever that is--and several other things that I haven't yet been able to understand)  are a service that at least some people seem to want.  There is one type of cart that has a steam whistle (do not be standing or walking nearby when it is blown!) and the person is selling baked/steamed sweet potatoes and baked/steamed plantains, so we are told.  This cart goes around the neighborhood where we live in the evenings.  I have heard the steam whistle as late as midnight.  The burritos-tamales-oaxacaquenos cart starts sometimes around mid-day.  I have bought fruit from the fruit cart, but not any of the cooked items yet.

People do seem to occasionally buy snack items, gum, or newspapers from the vendors moving among stopped vehicles.  I wonder how lucrative it is to sell things this way, but that's another matter I guess.

The children/adults coming around to tables in restaurants trying to sell handicrafts, gum, candy, I still don't like.  Especially the really young children--as young as four or five.  It seems like glorified begging at best and extremely exploitive at worst.  I do understand that the actions are probably associated with extreme poverty and I certainly don't blame the people who are doing this, but I don't think that my participating in this type of commerce is an appropriate response to allieviating poverty.  So I am always warm and polite but also firm that I'm not buying whatever it is.

The stationary stands, carts or collection of items displayed on a sidewalk, whether I'm interested in what's being sold or not, seem more benign than when people are actively approaching me.  These I can take or leave without my space feeling invaded.

Just so you know, I'm sure that a great influence on my categorizing these types of commerce as "good" vs. "bad" has to do with the concept of personal space, which is largely culturally determined, or at least highly culturally influenced.  Thus, as someone from a WASPish US upbringing, my concept of personal space is such that I don't want to be approached; I want to be in control of seeking out what I want and ignoring what I don't want.  Someone approaching me sends "danger! warning Will Robinson!" signals.  I'm trying to learn which of those initial appraisals is accurate and modify my appraisal process as needed for this different cultural setting.  Someone playing music on the sidewalk (or in other places in subway or train stations) who has an instrument case or other container for contributions invades my space only with the music.  That's usually okay, even if I don't contribute or like the music.  I don't feel threatened.  Someone playing music for a short time in a restaurant and then going table to table for contributions, feels like more of an invasion into my space, although not really a threat.  We are trying to figure out our system for participating in contributions in this type of situation.  Many of the local people ignore or say no to contributing.  But then there's the organ grinder, which is apparently fundraising by and for people with disabilities.  One of my Mexican role models does give a small amount of change to these folks.  There also is the occasional really good musical performance of a greater length in or outside a restaurant--I don't have a problem with this invading my space; I give more to these performers.  Someone trying to polish my shoes as I am walking and saying "no!" is clearly over the line--my line, at least.

I have more to say about commerce and the economic situation in general, which I will save for another time.  Thanks for reading my narratives, musings, and introspections.  If you have comments or questions, post them here--if you are able to (I've had trouble myself)--or e-mail me!

Some observations of cultural differences between the US & Mexico

Some of what I'm going to write about today are observations acquired over time, not just in the couple of weeks we have been here this time, and some of them probably also apply to US culture versus the culture in other areas of the world as well.  However, these are observations that have been confirmed for me during this stay.

First, there is a really different culture around dogs, and dogs seem to exhibit, on average, better behavior here.  On previous visits in villages or small towns, many dogs seemed to roam freely (or perhaps sleep in the middle of the road) and it always seemed to me that dogs weren't exactly anybody's pet, they just existed among the people.  In the neighborhood where we live here, dogs are also frequently sighted--being walked, on or off leashes, or waiting outside a closed door, or wandering into a restaurant with an open door.  (A word about restaurants, coffee shops and such--most of them are quite open to the outside, frequently with outside seating.)  Rarely are the dogs barking their heads off or trying to jump on somebody (can you tell I'm not a "dog person"?).  They are calm.  Even the two dogs who wandered into a restaurant where we were seated inside didn't really pay much attention to us.  After a while, it was evident that they belong with the restaurant, as staff interacted with them.  If one of them was reclining on the floor, inching closer in case we might drop food, the server would call quietly and the dog would go to another room.

Also, I haven't figured out where this is and is not acceptable, but people sometimes bring their dog with them into a restaurant.  The dog, then, will usually lie at the feet or under the table.  These are not service animals, but rather ordinary dogs, large and small.  So, I think the culture is less indulgent in a way (the dogs and/or the people must be trained differently) and less hyper about sanitation.  Can you imagine the reaction if a dog wandered into most restaurants in the US?  This is not to say that people here are not concerned about sanitation, because sidewalks are frequently scrubbed with soapy water and a broom, and there are signs in the park indicating to the dogs that they are not allowed to "defecar" on the sidewalks.  See--the dogs can even read here!  (Okay, just kidding on that last one--not about the signs but about the dogs being able to read.  I don't have evidence of that one way or the other.)

Another difference is that in restaurants, you have to request the bill.  It would never be brought to you otherwise.  I know this is the case in European countries as well, maybe elsewhere, too.  It takes a little bit of figuring out when to ask for it, too, because servers usually don't approach much after the food is served and they've made sure you have what you need.

A difference that people should be aware of if they plan to spend time in Mexico is that pedestrians DO NOT have the right-of-way.  A manifestation of this is that when you are trying to cross a street, when the traffic light turns green for you, you need to make sure that vehicles actually are stopping and you need to be aware of not getting in the way of turning vehicles.  So, the way to cross the street is to 1) not get too far out into the intersection until the light has turned and you see that the vehicles have stopped and then 2) walk like hell in case the light turns against you before you reach the other side and then 3) leap up onto the foot-high curb.  Okay, not all curbs are a foot high--some are actually higher, some lower. 

Some places I have been in Mexico, the traffic is somewhat chaotic (i.e., more vehicles parallel to each other than there are marked lanes).  This doesn't seem to be the case in Mexico City, although the traffic is at times very heavy.  Most of the side streets are one-way, which makes things a little easier for pedestrians, but I have more than once been in a taxi that intentionally went the wrong way on a one-way street.  This is usually at high speed, sometimes in reverse.  Keeps things interesting.