Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Random Photo(s): Sundown and the Museum

The beautiful edificio below is the Palacio de Bellas Artes, a museum in D.F.'s city center. When our friend Brian visited, we took him to an exhibit there that we had seen and enjoyed.

Afterwards, outside of the museum, some highschool students asked to interview us in English for a school project. This is nothing new; it had happened to me three times prior. Young'uns zone in on the estadounidenses (Americans) from a mile (er, a kilometer or two) away. The American (me) spots them spotting me and sighs, because the inevitable is about to happen; the American (me) will be videotaped while awkwardly answering their awkward questions, basic English-style. Usually, it's something like, "Where are you from? And what kind of music do you like?" However, in front of Bellas Artes, Brian was asked an arcane, almost rhetorical, question about static (like in the physics-y science sense). Phew, glad I didn't have to try to answer that one.

Well, back to Bellas Artes. Brian had been to D.F. last year and suggested that we get a coffee on the 9th floor of Sears. In my head I'm thinking, "Whew! Sears! Fun? Really, Brian? Wait, did he say coffee?! Yay for Sears!"

Sears is one of the big department stores here. In general, they seem a little nicer than those in the U.S., and it seems that people buy more than just power tools and tires there.

In sum, the cafe was so cool. All of the seating was open-air, and the balcony afforded awesome views of the city. We arrived at dusk. Here's a sequence of pictures of Bellas Artes taken from the balcony of Sears.

























































Friday, December 11, 2009

This Week...

Seeing: "Bright Lights, Big City." Mexico City has set itself into the record books again! This time, it's because they have the biggest metal Christmas tree in the world. No joke, they hoped to break this record and they did. In the daytime, this tree is a super ugly monster of disorganized-looking scaffolding, covered in red, white and blue tarps (why not red, white, and green--the colors of Christmas AND the Mexican flag?!). We happened to be in this part of town (coincidently, mind you) for the great unveiling of the light show.

It was, sort of, like watching fireworks. It was...ok.














































































Hearing:
Doris Day, Burl Ives, John Fahey, Ramsey Lewis, Jackson 5 and others interpret all the holiday classics. I'm getting sick of Christmas music, which is a Chrismas tradition in its own right. We are trying to remember that the holidays are upon us; it's not as festive here as I would have expected. Plus, it's 80 degrees.

Eating: I've been toying with the idea of giving up seafood, thus giving up my pescetarian status and "graduating" to vegetarian. There are a lot of moral arguments in that direction; mercury and other hazards in fish, over-fishing, and in turn, whales and polar bears dying because there isn't any tuna nor salmon left for them. People love their sushi these days. Not to mention, there's that whole environmental impact thing of shipping fish to places that don't have fresh access, which is a REAL problem, unless you're a "climategate" nut (and if you are, you're entitled to your beliefs, but please don't tell me). Matt and I cook only vegetarian, and I've been loving it, as usual.

However, some of my Taiwanese friends invited us for a home-cooked dinner last night. It was a lovely spread. With seafood. I had told them months ago that I ate seafood, when I was in my pre-contemplation mode. They had lovingly prepared octopi and clams, among many other dishes. After numerous attempts at eating it in my 20s, including last night, I can't say I'm a fan of octopus, because I'm not a fan of eating rubber. It has to be the most bouncy food ever. But it looks neat (or highly disturbing, I can't decide).















Stinky Eggs (the name of the dish):















Wearing:
Remember last week when I mentioned that I hate my clothes? Well, that still stands. I want to pour gasoline on them and burn them and cackle as I watch the cotton disappear into thin air (well, not really disappear into thin air, since I don't believe in climategate). Unfortunately, I don't have the money to restock my wardrobe, nor the money to buy gasoline. In pictures of myself, it looks like I had one really big day where I saw everything, because I SEEM TO BE WEARING THE SAME CLOTHING IN EVERY PICTURE

I had high aspirations for this section, highlighting my cool 'drobe. Turns out I don't have one.

But I do have a growing number of cool cheap accessories. And I've always loved accessories.

Remember last week when I also said that I'm a nostalgic person? Well, that still stands, too. People under 40 love wearing and/or making friendship bracelets here! That makes me happy. I remember 1990, when I wore friendship bracelets! If you see me anytime soon, or if you have seen me anytime in the recent past, you'll see/have seen this knotted to my wrist!

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Our mega-modest and interesting daily life; or, "Casa, Sweet Casa"












We don't pay a lot for our apartment, and that's good, considering we don't have a lot of money. It's also good, considering the fact that our home is not always the easiest place in which to live. I've always enjoyed the challenge of penny-pinching and living simply. Sometimes, though, we long for those "luxuries" back home (or those "luxuries" of the nicer apartments here); including, but not limited to: consistently running water, a heater/heating system, natural gas through a utility company, potable tap water, etc). But most of the time, we like the added adventure that comes with living in D.F. Day-to-day life is so easy in a developed country (like the U.S.); you don't realize how easy it is until you live in a developing country (ahem, Mexico).

Allow me to give you a few examples, por favor:



















This is our gas tank, Old Blue. It is stored on our roof. It is our source of heat for the water heater, and gas for our stove. Every morning, a man walks through the neighborhood, and in a beautiful tenor voice yells, "Gaaaaaaaaassssssssssss!" When we're out of gas (or getting low; we've started realizing a faint odor of gas is emitted from our water heater when it's nearly empty), Matt runs out to the street and flags down the gas man. The man selling gas then lugs up the heavy tank two flights of ricketly stairs to our roof, and then we give him $140MXP, plus tip. He ends up paying us a visit almost every two weeks. Here's a truck of gas. Lots of it.














Remember when (last paragraph, not too long ago) I said that the water heater gives off its lovely rotten egg smell to let us know that we're low? Well, that smell is very evident because our water heater is in our eensy-weensy tiny kitchen. With regards to the water heater, if we want to take a hot shower, we cannot decide that we want one, and instantaneously hop into our pink-tiled beauty. Oh no, we turn the dial on the heater to "caliente" and wait for ten minutes, for water to heat up.



















Which brings us to the next consideration; do we even have running water for a shower? We run the kitchen tap to see. If water pressure's low, we go down to the entry way and use our big, loud water-pump for ten minutes to flush water out of the pipes. We run out of water every four days or so. Here's our water pump, also known as our life saver (because there's nothing like running out of water when your hair's full of shampoo lather--ouch!).




















As mentioned in other entries, Mexico is running out of water. Thus, we try to conserve. For me, in one small way, that translates in taking a shower every other day, instead of every day. "Ew! Gross!, no? Don't you walk a lot? Don't you get all sweaty and smogified?" Nah, it's not too bad; I'm more concerned about doing my part to not waste than worrying about some arbitrary norm of a daily shower.

When I visited Laura Ingalls Wilder's ("Little House on the Prarie") childhood home a couple decades ago, I remember learning that their family took a bath once a week, and the mom's bath was last. Thus she got "clean" with very used bath water. You know, the stuff her stinky, hirsute husband (not Michael Landon, the real one) used. And she didn't sit on her butt playing "Bejeweled Blitz" all day and watching cable tv all night; she was ACTIVE. For some reason, that little prairie tidbit has stuck with me. Here's our water reserve, it's located on our roof.



















While we're on the subject of agua, here's a photo of our drinking/cooking/brushing teeth water.



















WE. DON'T. EVER. DRINK. OUT. OF. THE. TAP. Nobody does, unless you live in a fancy apartment or house that treats its water, or if you're really craving some intestinal issues would you ever drink the water. Instead, we use this big guy. When we've finished it, Matt brings the empty to the grocery store and lugs home a new one. I love the recycling factor of this system; especially considering Mexico's total lack of recycling.

Last bit on water. We have a washer on our roof for our use! Granted, it's a very strange one, but it does the trick. The whole system uses a lot of water, so Matt works very hard to catch the refuse water and cycle it back into the system. Did you notice its two compartments? One is for the washing part, the other is for the spin cycle. Manually, you move the sopping wet clothes to spin when the wash cycle is finished. Of course, we don't have a dryer, but that's no problem. Matt and I have never been dryer users. Our clothes last longer when they're air-dried, for one. Plus, Folks, dryers consume the most electricity of any household appliance. I have sources for that, if you need them. People from the U.S. love their dryers but most other countries don't. Not even the U.K.



















What about trash? Well, the hard working garbage collectors come around six days a week. That's good, because like most other countries in the world (excluding the U.S. again), you can't flush your paper down the toilet. HOWEVER, you don't just leave your trash waiting on the street (well, some jerky slobs do). Instead, every day, you wait for the sound of the trash bell. That's right, one dude's job is to walk down the road, ringing a bell to let you know that it's time to get your butt out on the street or be sorry. Often, you see people scurrying and hear doors slamming when they hear the bell. Here's a picture of Matt, rushing trash out of the gate.














So, there you have it. Our daily life is fraught with different types of chores than those we dealt with back home. In the beginning, there were fits of rage because, all of a sudden, our half-cooked brown rice was sitting pointlessy and unboilingly atop a stovetop that lacked that beautiful blue flame of sustanance. In the beginning, there were lots of calls to our landlord like, "Um, Jorge, we don't have gas/water/electricity/etc. ?! What do we do?!"

Then, after a while, came the lightbulb moments, "So that's why that strange guy is yelling that chant outside EVERY SINGLE MORNING! He's not doing it for fun; he's selling something we need!" For some strange reason, it's satisfying when you've got down all the quirks of daily life here.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Xochimilco

















Xochimilco (So-she-mil-co) is a lush, pretty place. Its name means, "Place where Flowers Grow" in Nahuatl, a native language of modern-day Mexico. Once upon a time, in this small neighborhood/town on the southern edge of D.F., there was a lake. Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, the inhabitants made a huge series of canals (about 100 miles of them) used for agriculture and transport. Today, agriculture is a small segment of Xochimilco's canals' business. Today, the canals are used mostly for transport and entertainment/sightseeing purposes.

We took a boat, similar to a gondola in Venice, navigated by a local man for a 45-minute tour of some of the canals. There are no motorized water vehicles in the canals, which makes it very peaceful. We enjoyed Xochi on a Monday, the epitome of tranquility for this tourist-heavy place. In fact, we had a whole colorful trajinera (boat) to ourselves. On weekends, big boats with capacities of 60 people fill the canals, making it more of a party atmosphere. I was happy to have missed that. Daily life in D.F. is enough of a crowded party for me. HOWEVER: a boat filled with muchachas did yell, "¡Guapos!" ("hotties!") to Brian and Matt. I'm sure that was a bit of the ol' ego boost for them.

Vendors on small boats sell beer, food, silver jewelry, and even a song performed live by a little band as you float your way through the canals.

Here are some snapshots of this lovely place.

Empty trajineras, ready and waiting:










Relatively little water traffic:















A home on the canal:
















A commuter:















Flowers everywhere. The type in the middle is a wild poinsettia variety; I don't know about you, but I had actually never seen poinsettias growing in the ground (they just always seemed to appear magically in abundance in those ugly, mylar wrapped chintzy fake-pots, in the supermarket come Christmastime). I like them more this way:

Friday, December 4, 2009

This Week...

Seeing: I'm a big fan of stencil grafitti. So is D.F. This one's all over the city on abandoned buildings. I have no idea what it's for, and in turn, have no idea what transpired on November 28, but I hope it was fun!














Hearing:
I'm totally a hugely nostalgic person. Matt and I love to reminisce about our wholesome, happy Midwestern childhoods. Have you ever watched blocks of t.v. commercials on YouTube from your childhood decade? We do. Ahhh, the good ol' 80s Folgers commercials. I'd have to disagree about Folgers in your cup being the best part of waking up, though, since I'm a coffee snob and all.

Anyway, I love Christmas music. It brings back those awkward years of crooked teeth, family time, unreasonably cold weather, Christmas trees, and the joy of anticipation for the holiday. The past few years, I've enjoyed Sufjan Stevens' Christmas EPs. Here's a very pretty, yet unique, version of "Joy to the World."

Eating: Ice cream! There's a neveria called Roxy in the neighborhood next to ours with homemade ice cream. My favorite flavor is melon. They make creamy ice creams and icy ice creams. Melon is an icy one. We took our Austin friend Brian to Roxy's. The server gave us a sample of a flavor she called rompope. Although I couldn't identify exactly its flavor, I liked its subtle rum taste and told her I'd take a cone of it. When we returned home, with the help Google Translate, I discovered it was eggnog! Yum. Below, Matt's eating pistachio, and Brian's eating walnut, I think.







































Wearing:
The same BORING stuff. As far as clothing goes, during our time here, I've bought only one new shirt and a pair of boots. Otherwise, I'm cycling through my wardrobe of ten shirts, three pairs of old, ragged looking jeans, and scuzzy shoes. No fun.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Clase de español está terminado




















Well, I survived. My class is finished, and I passed the most basic of basic classes! Woo-woo! Bailamos! I had a great time. I made some amazing friends. Seriously. SERIOUSLY. The people in my class (and the other Basico 1 classes) charmed my socks (uh, I mean mis calcetines) off. I adore them, and I hope we're friends forev-skies (and I hope I can visit them someday--because they live all over the globe--knowledgable tour guides!).

In pictures, some of my super-cute classmates and their countries of origin:

Germany (I like to practice mein Deutsch mit ihr)



















Taiwan:



















Northern Ireland:



















Egypt:



















South Korea:



















Egypt:



















Denmark:



















France:



















South Korea:



















China:



















The following two youngsters are from Quebec (they were born in the 90s!!!!):






































Although I demanded a portrait of all my faves, it was Double-Standard Town when the camera was pointed at me, of course:



















As a special holiday gift (or perhaps as an extra lump of coal, depending on your take) to you, The Reader, expect many blog entries to be churned out of the unpesoparati blog factory this month. You can thank my potential free time, and perhaps boredom, for that.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Comida: Part I; or Happy Thanksgiving!

Amidst all the awesome things Mexico does so awesomely well, one of the awesomestest is El Menu del Dia at restaurants. Every restaurant at which we've eaten has one. Basically, the menu of the day is 4-5 courses for a set price. It's available during lunch and dinner times. The courses include salad/vegetable, bread, soup, entree, and dessert (and sometimes a drink, usually fresh juice). Fresh juice will get its own entry at a later date, because it's amazing.

Multiple course meals are nothing new and nothing unheard of in the States, I know. But, but, but I love the way this concept is practiced in Mexico; during our time here, Matt and I have had NOT ONE expensive meal at all. And we don't need to! We get yummy menus of the day at very affordable restaurants. I'm talking $4-8 USD for a five course foodfest!!! It's great.

Today, I'm highlighting the soup course. I have a soft spot in my heart and tums for soup; I enjoy thoroughly making soup from scratch. Luckily, Mexico loves its sopa. Of course, the ones we imbibe are vegetarian, but no matter! Perhaps it seems odd to describe the soups as delicious, yet watery AND simple (perhaps the correct nomenclature ought to be "brothy" and "minimalist"), but there is something special and worthy of appreciation when a dish works without a lot of bells and whistles.

The perfect condiment to all soups: a squeeze of lime (who knew?)













Scrumptiously simple zucchini soup (perfect for all of those in the heartland, who possess an abundance of The Big Z come harvest time)












The quintessential peasant's/proletariat's soup: Lentil
(Commie!)
p.s. this one's loaded with the other extra-special condiment--cilantro













Sunday, November 22, 2009

Tlalpan














Tlalpan (pronounced Tlahl-pahn) is very hard to say. Try it.

So, we went to this little tongue-twister of a neighborhood last weekend. Our guidebook described it as a very cute, quiet, modest place on the southern edge of D.F. It was a long bus ride to get there, down Avenida Insurgentes, the longest avenue in the Americas. Although we covered a relatively short distance of the avenue on our journey to Tlalpan, I did feel like I was, quite possibly, on the longest street in the Americas.

Our visit to the neighborhood left us charmed. Tlalpan possessed an adorable little town square bubbling over with the archetype of a happy, lazy Sunday in friendly Mexico; children playing, clowns and magicians performing, artisanal goods being sold. We enjoyed wonderful coffee at a lovely roasterie and wandered the narrow streets. Oh, the best part: the air quality's better down there, and it felt better. Tlalpan will serve as our "away from the city, but not really" refuge when we need it, I think.

In pictures: