Dog Bites and Bee Stings

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  • Consomé

    “Hola amigo, lo siento, un poco español…que es eso?”

    I ask what the soup is, it’s called ‘consomé,’ emphasis on the last syllable. Do I dip a taco in it or do I drink it by itself? Well, preferably, I dip some longcut and drink some Blue Light, but that’s not the question. Me and the taco man, both in the deep end. Please, say something in my language, we both think. Do you want one? Quieres? Make us both comfortable by bringing a transaction into the mix, thank you. It’s a soup with meat in it, here is a 50 peso note. Oh the price is 35, well that’s steep but good for him for running a scheme. Order some consomé next time you are in Mexico, it’s fantastic.

  • Napoli

    “What if you die in your sleep?”

    “Well, if I do, I won’t care much about the photo. So what if the wall collapses over night?”

    So I took a picture after an argument with myself. The walls looked southern European, and I was enthralled. It’s a pleasant view of some plastered and painted wall that will probably be available tomorrow too…but you never know do you?

  • Valentines

    “What are we?”

    “I don’t see it.”

    A loose translation of a conversation,

    Heard in a park after it was dark.

    Crowds swelled in the nearby green space,

    I liked it dark, they couldn’t see my face.

    Some dude laying it on as best he could,

    In the morning he’ll ask himself why he would.

    Traditions of this day cross borderlines,

    Here’s to the happy couples and their happy times.

  • Morning of the 12th

    Today, I walked to an empty park bench near a statue of Benito Juárez. I got situated on the bench and looked up at the statue. My eyes were pulled down by a homeless person getting comfortable on the ground next to the statue, switching sides like all side-sleepers do. There is no way to see the history and beauty of Mexico without being confronted by the Mexican poverty. That’s my profound statement for the day. I looked away from the person on the ground and saw a graffiti message in spray paint on a concrete block across the street from the park, it read: “Yanqui Go Home.” I have no thoughts on that.

  • The Morning of the 11th

    I wrote something akin to a poem this morning. I don’t know if it’s a poem. Poetry seems to have a lot of rules but it goes like this, it goes:

    “I wake up cuddled in a blanket,

    staying warm during a chilly night. 

    You start the day in the same way, 

    wrapped up until I’m ready for you. 

    I get down to the stoney street and

    walk along the bumpy roads. You 

    bump along the same streets. I,

    like a robot, not thinking, only going off 

    what my programming says to do. You, 

    like a prisoner, brought by your guard 

    who doesn’t care what you want. 

    Both ending up in our meeting spot. I walk 

    around the park and notice you. You 

    have so many other friends to see, you

    don’t notice me. I sit near you and monitor 

    the crowd. If it works out today that you get 

    lonely and there’s room for me, I’ll come 

    up and talk to the guard. 

    Twenty five pesos is fine, I say. He says okay 

    and unwraps you from your clothes and lays you 

    down in a soft white bed and wraps you up again and 

    I enjoy you to the fullest. Thank you, Mr. Tamale Salesman.”

    These things are comforting, these little packages wrapped in paper and put in bags. Everything feels so organized and proper and I don’t know the word for it. Anyways, I went out looking for a tamale man to get a torta de tamal, a tamale unwrapped and placed inside a roll and wrapped in paper and placed in a bag, but I couldn’t find any in the park. So I said, well I really want one so I hit the streets to find one and I didn’t see one out in the streets. I came back to the park to sit some and wait some more. I wondered about things not working out and how that’s just life and it’s not really important if things work out or not, there’s more to it. And I think we all learn that lesson often in life and forget that lesson really quickly.

    I walked home and saw one green house and thought it needed it’s picture taken. And I thought about taking pictures of all the various colorful storefronts and homes here and organizing them by color. On my way up one street, Calle de la Constitución, I found five more green ones to go along with that first photo. They are on my instagram @matt_from_buffalo

    That’s all really, take care.

  • Tasty Tejate

    I was hot and tired and needed a drink yesterday. I came up to a woman and what did she say?

    “Horchata, naranja, tejate,” she was selling.

    Tejate was my choice. I had seen signs in town and saw strange liquids in people’s cups while walking around, and thought that must be the mysterious tejate. It seemed like a local delicacy and I asked her

    “What is it?”

    She told me about maize, and cacao, and the Mayans and I got the gist. She asked if I wanted a straw and I asked her how she drank it. She said no straw was the right way to take it. I went no straw.  I paid fifty pesos for a drink which seemed steep.

    “Cincuenta pesos…for the gringo?” I asked, tongue in my cheek.

    She smiled and said no, no, para todos, for everyone. Yeah, okay lady. I held the plastic mug by the top and bottom and drank some tejate. The ice cubes floating around in it were much needed. There were chunks of the mixture that hadn’t been mixed in all the way, but that seemed intentional. It was refreshing, chocolatey, and went down easy. Come to try it if you’re in town someday. Whether you do or you don’t, you’ll be okay.

  • Oaxaca is a Vibration

    I went for a great long walk through town today and thought to myself: “What an opportunity I have to live in this cool place for a while. I had better make the most of it. I really don’t want to waste this time I have here…but that damn phone. Learn more Spanish to have a deeper experience. Meet new people who can take me places I would never go myself. Live cheaply so I can get as many days here as possible.”

    So I’m formulating a plan to stay in Oaxaca as long as I can and put further travel on the shelf because this is what I was looking for. It exists in other places too, this good feeling, but it costs money to get there and I’m already in a cool place. I can have such a rich experience here. I can come back a better person, I thought. Then I thought, do I really care about that? Anyways…be where your feet are, bird in the hand, etc. etc.

    As I was writing that previous line, I heard a siren in the distance. “Maybe a little fire somewhere,” I thought. The siren got louder, then it was in the house, then it was in my bedroom. Blaring, loud noise…okay, okay. My first thought was “This is a test of the emergency system” type shit and then the house started shaking. Just a little earthquake coming through! The siren continued on and I thought I heard my name being called. “Oh, maybe if this is serious, Sylvia, my AirBnb, host would want to make sure I’m okay.” I pop up from my chair and see her and her son Omar standing in the little driveway inside the gates of the house looking up at my window. 

    “Down?” I point and they nod, with concern in their eyes. I run out of my room and down the stairs and out of the house and stand with them in the driveway. We stand there for a while but the moving and the shaking had stopped. 

    “So if I hear that noise again, come down?”

    “Yes,” Omar says.

    “Okay. And what if I’m out and about when that happens?” I asked if there were any green meeting spots like I used to see on the sidewalks in Mexico City 

    “Just…” he starts with no real advice on that question. “Stay away from fences.”

    He explains that Oaxaca is crazy with much tectonic activity.

    “Well, it’s a good thing there aren’t many tall buildings here,” I say, always seeing the positive side of things.

    “Yes, now you see why there aren’t tall buildings here,” Omar responds. Touché.

    I ask if we are all good, “Todo bien?”, and I return up to my room. I hear Sylvia laughing for the next five minutes and I think she might be laughing at my stupidity or my lack of alarm. Fair enough. I am a newbie to this stuff but damn, it came and went in like five seconds. We were good! But yeah, I know nothing of how to react to an earthquake. Great name for a natural occurrence, that. Maybe my reaction is the same as someone thinking they will drive their crappy car easily down the street in a lake-effect snowstorm. 

  • Week 1 News and Notes

    • In TJ: I ate a hot dog from a street vendor. I love the idea of eating street meat, but its usually intimidating with the crowds and the language barrier and the obvious gringo. I did a little walk by on a taco stand I had heard about, and it was at the intersection that the internet said it would be, 4th and Ninos Heroes. Fight or flight, I chose flight and went on walking but found an empty hot dog and hamburger stand and ordered a hot dog. “Un poco español, si, si.” He was cool, on the phone with someone as I ordered and he prepared. “Con todo?” “Si.” So let’s see what I get, one with everything. He took it from a little warming station that probably wasn’t warm and literally put the dog on the grill for two seconds. No worries. It looked to be wrapped in bacon and he piled on some mayo, tomato, ketchup, and mustard. Forty pesos, so like two or three bucks. It was fine. I could have had six, or a dozen to be honest.
    • In TJ: A happy moment happened to me just now. I am at Nelsons on Revolution having some beers before my flight and the wind had been hitting for long enough for me to say “It’s windy!” I felt chilly, and the happiness that having my hoodie in my backpack brought me and the happiness that the thought of putting it on brought me is probably a problem. I don’t know why but if stuff like that makes you so happy, I don’t think you are doing too well. I was born for hoodie weather. 
    • In OAX: I thought of Jim Harbaugh today. While he was coaching Michigan, he was asked how the team was coming along in fall camp. He responded by saying he wanted the team to be one percent better today than yesterday and tomorrow he wanted them one percent better than today. That is how I am looking at my knowledge of Oaxaca, and so on my second day, I can say with full confidence that the proportions of the buildings and streets is beautiful here. Whatever the measurements are, they got them correct. The buildings are at a pleasant height and the streets are at a cozy but not cramped width. The combination of these two factors, along with the cobblestone roads, create a very nice, even magical, atmosphere in town.
    • In OAX: Knowing Spanish in Mexico is important, but that is not the only language being taught here. There are many indigenous languages used in the state of Oaxaca and the one I am most fluent in is of the folksy white person from northern United States. I dropped an “Ope” on someone today. These locals must hear it often with so many white people around. To the Oaxaqueños, I would explain “Ope” as “Sorry for inconveniencing you in any way, I’m going to change that and get out of the way as soon as I can, and we’ll both be on our way, thanks.”
    • In OAX: Saw a guy walking down the street today wearing flip-flops and dragging his feet. I thought “That is the most ‘I stay in hostels’ guy I’ve ever seen.” He was short, pretty thin but a little chunky and he knew it. Mostly clean shaven, says things like “I need to shave” as he rubs his face, but he loves my beard. “Dude, I wish I could grow one like yours!” What did he do last night? “Dude, I went out walking and found this little bar and got shitfaced, they loved me there.” Plans for today? “I’m thinking about renting a car and going up into the mountains for a few days actually.” My response to that would be “Nice, dude!”

  • Day 5 – Eat Tacos, Get Lost

    My early impressions of Oaxaca: I thought it was going to be a cool place and it has exceeded my imagination. A clutch rebound after the BRICK that was Tijuana. There are quaint little shops everywhere you go here. Things smell good, they smell loved and well-cared for like my mother’s house. The people seem relaxed, living at an easy pace, not out to get each other. Early impressions though…subject to change. It has a big hipster vibe and there are many old retirees (white) and dirty hippie backpackers (white with red hair and sunburnt skin.)

    I went out this evening with the intent of finding food and ended up at Tacos Roy. I’m an amateur judge but the corn tortillas were too big and they didn’t use two of them like they do in CDMX. The taste was still great. You think they have their arguments about taco preferences down here the way eaters back home have arguments about blue cheese vs ranch? Yeah, I’d say so and they are probably just as annoying about it too.

    On my way back to my lodgings, I saw a hot dog stand and said why not. They didn’t have change for my 50 peso bill so I told them to keep it. You can destroy some street vendors change with a big bill but fifty is not a big bill. The gringo gets scammed again! And the woman who took my money put her hand in an empty hot dog roll bag and used it as a glove when she took it from me. And I said, biiiiiiiiiii….no I didn’t but I was like damn yo, disinfect it too while you are at it. I took a few bites of the hot dog and then spilled a bunch of toppings on my hoodie. They put so many toppings on their hot dogs here. I think it’s just fun to pick up bottle after bottle and spray something on there. It’s like adding a bunch of ingredients to chili, makes you feel like a chef.

    After the dog I started a leisurely journey home and stumbled onto some night markets. Hats and crafts – all mass produced garbage, not a craftsmen in the bunch I’d guess! And then I saw big tents with bright lights and large signs listing food for sale. The grills were filled with meat and tortillas, I was thinking “Damn, this is where the real Mexicans eat!” The benches were packed with customers or just friends and family waiting to go home. They’d probably spit on me if I sat down or put me on their Facebook page and I’d be a meme on the Mexican internet in no time. I’ll get there one day. 

    I walked out of the market and back on to the streets. The sun had already been down and things started to look unfamiliar. I straight up got lost as hell with no internet service for a good half hour. It’s a giant grid this city, everything looks the same. If you use “the big old church” as a reference point, well that turns into a problem because there’s like six big old churches.

    Made it home, good adventure.

  • Day 4: Leaving Tijuana

    On way my way to the aeropuerto…

    They would have skewered me in this neighborhood. So the money I paid la policía just went to police criminals instead of street criminals. (More on that later.)

    There is something so intoxicating about this place, about the Spanish speaking world. It’s so scary when you don’t know what they are saying to each other but it’s so fun, it’s so chaotic. Buying deodorant or buying a chip for your phone goes from yawning to extreme focus and hoping things go in your favor. I don’t know, there’s something about this place I love even though I am the most outsider you could be. It doesn’t make any sense to be here but it doesn’t make any sense that talented people of the world drive themselves crazy going to work every day in terrible jobs. I’m rambling now.

    The prices make me shit bricks too, I’m not good with conversions off the top of my head or I just don’t trust that it won’t be more than what they say but numbers here are in the hundreds and thousands sometimes and I’m like…I don’t know if I can afford that. Going to the airport now. Will pay to carry my bag on, praying the person at the front desk will help me. They want my money after all. And then a taxi ride at night to my bed in Oaxaca with no cell phone service because you have to register as a person to have a phone here now which sucks. I’m trying to hold it together today but it’s been tough. My brain is not always my friend and I don’t know why. Maybe a therapist can help me.