Attraversiamo

Hello to all of my (not so) faithful readers. I have decided to update my blog, well, simply because today is the three month anniversary since I last updated on March 7th.

First, I should start by saying that I am three days away from being done with my first year of “teaching.” I am not sure I can rightly call what I have been doing all year (and especially this semester) teaching, but I’m not sure what else to call my many challenging but altogether extraordinary experiences at Stanley Middle School and Mt. Diablo High School.
So what has happened in my life in the past three months? More than I will ever be able to explain here. As you all can see, I am not so great at keeping people updated on my life. I have been good at keeping myself updated, though. In my three month absence from blogging, I have been writing (to myself?) about my wonderful, devastating, and simultaneously seemingly life-changing recent life events.

Here are some things I wrote after my 6-day visit to Mexico in April!

Hola y lo siento que no he escrito en tanto tiempo… ¡acabo de regresar de México! I’ve been back in the States for a little more than 24 hours now and I am already back in my “Oh my gosh, how will I ever get everything done?!” routine. To be honest though, I don’t feel much like being productive. Being in Mexico is like being in paradise—you never want to leave, no matter how much you know you have to. I left for Mexico at 6:00am on Good Friday and before I knew it I was in the Mexico City airport where I seemed to be having one of those out of body experiences. As I walked around the airport, I could read every sign, understand everyone, and say almost anything I wanted to in a language I cannot call my own. It was like God had sprinkled some fairy dust on me and I could suddenly speak in Spanish without hesitation or restriction. I mean, I always tell people, “Oh yes, I’m fluent in Spanish,” but I don’t think I ever really believed myself until last week. I got on the Pullman de Morelos bus and headed for Cuernavaca. When we finally arrived, I could hardly contain my excitement.
It was then that I got in the first of many taxis I would take before my trip’s end. The taxi drivers in Mexico (most of them anyway) always give you an experience to remember. This particular taxi driver happened to be on the phone (there really are no driving laws in Mexico). He was not talking, but rather yelling at the person on the other line (his boss), exclaiming, “¡Oye! ¡No es justo! No debe de llevar los tenis al trabajo. Yo no los llevo, entonces él no debe llevarlos tampoco. ¡No es profesional!” (“Hey! It’s not fair! He shouldn’t wear tennis shoes to work. I don’t wear them, so he shouldn’t either. It’s not professional!”) This argument continued on for about five more minutes and included some profanity I am now accustomed to hearing from my high school students. I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing because my taxi driver was wearing a neon-colored Hawaiian shirt, jean shorts, black socks, and fancy dress loafers. His choice of clothing was, in my opinion, worse than wearing tennis shoes with khakis and a nice polo shirt. When he finally got off the phone, he spent the rest of the taxi ride complaining to me about his colleague who wore tennis shoes to work that day.

In my short time in Mexico, I took 12 taxis and had one other extremely memorable taxi ride. It came on my third day in Cuernavaca. I walked to Superama (one of the only all-inclusive grocery stores in Mexico) to get some pandulce for breakfast. On my way out, I grabbed a taxi to go to the Zócalo for a typical Cuernavaca day. When I got in the taxi the driver asked me where in Mexico I lived. He knew I wasn’t from Cuerna, but he thought I was a local! All of my high school kids also think I’m Mexican (even after repeatedly telling them that I am Americana), but this was different. A local thought I, the whitest girl in Cuernavaca, was Mexicana. That was a proud moment for me.

There are things that are the same in every city. For example, almost everyone speaks a little English in all major airports in the world, and there are always bumper-to-bumper traffic jams in all capital cities. Some things, though, are only in Mexico. Sunday’s, for example, belong to Mexico; and I don’t mean, “It’s Sunday…time to catch up on some work, do some chores, and prepare for another busy work week” American-style Sunday’s. Sunday’s in Mexico celebrate life. The Sunday I happened to be in Mexico for was Easter Sunday. Easter is not as in important to Catholics in Mexico as it to Catholics in the U.S. Even still, Semana Santa (Holy Week) is about the most important week of the year. All schools close for 2 weeks, and traveling within Mexico during Semana Santa is like traveling in the U.S. on Christmas Eve. All of my “familia” was in town form different parts of Mexico, and I was lucky enough to spend the weekend with “primos, sobrinos, y tíos.” My host mom’s daughter Liliana (Lili) has two kids—Ernie and Samanta. The last time I was in Mexico, Ernie was 4 and Samanta was 5 months. They are now 8 and 3 and cuter than ever. Samanta spent the weekend with us, and from the moment I walked in the door on Friday night to the time Sami went back to her house on Sunday, we were playing games, drawing, and watching cartoons. Ernie is learning English and likes to practice the few words he knows. I spent Saturday night with Samanta, Ernie, and Valeria (Sami and Ernie’s 14 year-old cousin). We played Jenga, tag, football, and Scatagories. My mamá made a wonderful comida—pozole, taquitos de pollo, enchiladas, and jugo de Jamaica. A typical, yet perfect Mexico meal.

On Easter Sunday, I went to Tepozlan—a small town just outside of Cuernavaca. The town is beautiful. Very small, but there is something…magical about this town. I arrived around noon after a 45 minute bus ride and went to mass. This was no ordinary Easter Sunday mass—there were Mexican’s and tourists alike at the cathedral and the area around the church was brightly decorated with flowers and papel picado. The bells were ringing to signal the start of the Spanish mass, and throughout the mass, mariachis were playing. After mass, I walked for about a mile before reaching the foot of the mountain that I would spend the next 2 hours climbing. I climbed to the top with two Mexicana’s I met on the way. At the top lies an archeological sight overlooking the entire pueblo. I hiked down with a group of 2 older couples from Argentina. Walking back through the markets this time, I went shopping! Tepoz has fantastic hand-painted ceramics, jewelry, and toys for children. I also ate quesadillas (Tepoz is known for their quesadillas) at a wonderful restaurant. After watching a reenaction of an ancient Indian dance, I headed back to Cuerna. I stopped by the Palacio de Cortez (free on Sunday’s) and watched the “elderly” dance in the Zócalo as they do every evening to show young people what it is to be in love.

The following Wednesday came all too quickly. I had spent my few days in Mexico talking for hours with my host mom, playing with Ernie and Samanta, exploring the “real” Mexico, and enjoying every minute of it. I woke up early Wednesday morning and headed for Mexico City. I was lucky enough to be able to spend a few hours with Paul and Matt before boarding my plane back to the U.S. We walked around Mexico City for a while, had lunch at a French café, and listened to the radio DJs announce Obama’s arrival in Mexico City that day at 2:00pm. As I looked out the window of the plane, I could see Air Force One. Much to my dismay, it was time to go back to reality after a very surreal 6-day encounter.

Since Mexico, I experienced the loss of a cousin, watched my dad undergo a long and painful hip-surgery, and finished my first semester of “real” teaching. I don’t care to go into the details of the shocking and devastating death of my cousin Jamie, but I would like to share one incredible moment of faith that occurred not too long after Jamie’s passing. My family and I went to Carmel to spend some very much necessary quality time with my Aunt Diane, Uncle Keith, Larisa and Carlos. As per our tradition, we walked down to the beach for sunset with a bottle of wine and some appetizers. As we toasted in honor of Jamie, we looked up in the sky to see that the clouds had formed the shape of a “J.” With tears in our eyes, we knew that Jamie was looking down on all of us.

My dad’s hip surgery lasted seven and a half hours, and those seven hours were some of the most frightening of my life. I’m not sure what I thought might happen, but I extremely happy that he made it through and that I was able to be there for a few hours everyday after the surgery with my parents.

And finally, on the teaching end of my life, things have gone surprisingly well last few months of school. I have now learned to call parents and use (most of) them to my advantage. I have also learned that despite the few very frustrating and challenging students I have, the majority of my students are great kids and will do great things in the future. I love watching my students understand something for the first time, or listening to them tell me how they spoke Spanish to someone over the weekend. At the end of the day, I generally feel satisfied with my students’ performance and am eager to come back the next day.

Before I leave you all, I should explain the title of my blog. “Attraversiamo” is a word meaning “Let’s cross over” in Italian. I learned the word in the book Eat, Pray, Love, and it can be used for “crossing the street” or in a more metaphorical sense. For some reason, I love this word. It is beautiful and truthful, and can be applied to all aspects of life. Make of it what you may, but I found it to be a rather appropriate and applicable description of my life in these last few months.

Thank you for your patience!

Love,
The most unreliable blogger…ever:)