Looking Back

This week I started teaching my own small-group English classes at a high school in France. As I stood before my classes feeling at ease and engaging I could not be more thankful that I began my teaching experience this summer in Mexico. Aside from becoming comfortable with teaching while in La Manzanilla, I also learned many other things. If you are reading my blog from the McGill Lawrence Internship Expo at Reed this November, bienvenido! To sum things up...


  1. What did you learn about yourself in this experience?
I learned that I am far more adaptable than I had thought. This knowledge makes me confident to move new places and countries and not be afraid to interact with locals and use rudimentary language skills. I am OK with being in uncomfortable situations, and learned that they are usually routes to knowledge and growth for me. I returned to Oregon with more Spanish than I ever expected, and from this I learned that I can pick up a language far better through speaking than in a classroom.

 2. What skills did you gain or improve on this summer? Think of hard skills as well as interpersonal skills?
I gained teaching skills. This is the biggest one for me. I also gained comfort speaking a language without full comprehension or confidence, and learned that people appreciate this more than you might expect. Throughout the course of the summer camp, I gained many organizational skills that I didn't think I had in me. In this, I also became better at planning within a group (in a non-native language...) and learned that I must speak up for myself even if I consider myself the underdog.

 3. You all had to write about the purpose your organization served in their community and how your work was to fit in with that mission. Did your perceptions change about how the organization meets the community need?
La Catalina Educational Foundation does indeed have the aim and the community need that I had expected. However, the ways in which the organization attempts to meet these need is far more complicated than I had expected. The student scholarship system runs well and truly meets the needs of hardworking students in the community. The summer camp is also successful in engaging and teaching young students. The other programs, however, face issues of attendance, funding and dedication. Though the community addresses their needs, primarily for English classes, there is a disconnect between the Foundation's course offerings and community attendance. For the organization to fully meet the community's needs this disconnect, whether it be cultural or otherwise, must be closed. How to do that is a big question that I left with, and that the foundation still struggles with.

 4. What did you learn about the community in which you served?
I learned much about the strength and pride of the Mexican family unit, which often has an effect on kids' experience with education, especially the young women. It also creates the kindest, most welcoming culture I have experienced. I also witnessed the interaction of the local culture and the other, entirely separate culture of foreign residents. I struggled throughout my time in La Manz to decipher how I felt about this, as the foundation's work would be far less possible without the donations of the foreign community. Signs of economic dependence were very present, though, in the summer low-season which produces few jobs and much economic struggle.

 5. Did you perceptions change about the issue or non-profits generally?
After interning with LCEF I felt less comfortable with the idea that most non-profits abroad bring in educated young people from a privileged culture to work for a limited time. Though it positively impacts the community, especially when the non-profit is locally based and founded like LCEF, it offers little stability to the community. I became a stronger advocate for educated Americans considering Mexico when looking for volunteer opportunities abroad.

 6. What new knowledge related to your academic discipline can you utilize in addressing community needs in the future?
I didn't learn anything specifically related to English literature or writing, but I did learn that my interest in language and discussion creates a positive approach to teaching, which is vital to addressing community needs all over the world.

 7. Has this experience contributed to your sense of being an engaged community member and citizen?
It definitely has. Instead of going back to school for creative writing, I now want to teach in a public high school, at least for a time. Young people right out of college have a lot of energy to dedicate to communities in need. 

 8. What advice would you have for others embarking on a McGill, Davis or similar experience?
  Realize that it is a learning experience, and you can only as much as you can. There will be things in which you wish you could effect greater change, but one summer is a limited about of time and it is best to focus on a specific project than become frustrated that other small projects may be taking much longer than you expected (my own experience). I would also suggest that those considering applying without specific organizations in mind, to consider Mexico. We often go far away when engaging in non-profit work when so much is needed right across the border.

9. What do you wish you had known before you started your first day?
In less developed countries things happen more slowly and in more complicated fashions than here. Do not expect your project to go exactly as planned, but do expect to learn and adapt as things change given what is available and not.

I miss you, La Manz.

In which I pretend to be a food blogger.

I started this blog as a means to keep in touch, to reflect on my project, and to write, in general, even when I didn't have the energy to write creatively (yes, I know this is probably a cop out). Happily I've found that people actually read the blog, which shouldn't be surprising because there is something about the blogosphere that sucks you in like a teen sitcom. And by people, I mean more than my closest amigas and my grandparents: family friends, distant relatives, other random people my mom talks to.

So, I thought it might be time to treat these people (YOU), to a taste of the blogging that I find myself buried in all day: food and lifestyle blogging, usually mixed colorfully together into a interesting blend of intimate story telling. This isn't too sideways of me, because one of the [many] things I have enjoyed most about being here is living a bit differently than I did in Portland. For the past two years I have lived with two lovely boys and my bff Kate. Then we picked up one more, my bestie from childhood, who took to a corner of the basement. Our floor has been coated inches thick in Pabst multiple times, our sink was usually overflowing, and I'm impressed our youth-hating neighbors haven't moved.

Now, for the first time, I live alone. I have an entire fridge to myself, a handful of big, un-shrink-wrapped windows, and my own bathroom. Despite my ridiculous imagination, which would normally run wild with a whole apartment to itself, I love being alone in this space at night, even in the latest or earliest hours when I cannot sleep because dogs are barking or our neighbors are singing along to their favorite mixtape at 2 am (I've heard it many times). In fact, I think all of these noises and something about Mexico simply makes me feel safer at night. Something about the "si dios quiere" (if God wills it) and familial mentality that makes my head go less crazy in the dark.

Alright, so given all of these comforts, my lifestyle hasn't changed drastically. But I have been entertained much by attempting to make do cooking with the materials I have. Because I am only living here for two months, I don't want to accumulate half bags of sugar, flour or cinnamon, so I buy dry rice, beans, and oats when I need them, and have been playing with the same bag of Masa flour for a while. I have also altered my diet considering the insane prices of foreign products like tofu. Fun times in the land of ridiculously-priced peanut butter.

Some things I eat:

Nopales:
Cut from the pads of prickly pear cacti (thanks wikipedia), a bag of nopales in the fridge of a Tienda looks like a bag of sliced green bell peppers but only tastes like nopales. I stir-fry them with onion and garlic until they are slimy enough to taste salty, and then I turn the heat up so they almost burn. I'm going for the grilled fajita flavor and almost get it. I almost always have them with beans and tortillas, and often scrambled eggs.

Papusas or Bean Tacos with Cabbage and Jícama Salad:
I know that papusas aren't a Mexican food (El Salvadorian). So why did I begin making them by hand when I moved to Mexico? Well, I have fond memories of eating them in the SF Mission and also the Venice Beach sand with almost my whole Portland household, thinking about how the smog makes good sunsets. More importantly, I see masa corn flour in the stores far more than regular flour, and am not ambitious enough to make tamales (though stay turned, as we're planning to next week). Making papusas (imperfect, lumpy ones) turned out to be super easy. You just mix the masa with water to make a dough and then get your hands incredibly dirty trying to make thin masa paddies and fold them around some spoonfuls of refried beans. Though I often make my own black beans, canned refried beans made smoother, prettier papusas. The extra salt and oil makes it extra tasty, too.

Its fine to top your papusa with salsa, but I also like to make a cold salad with jicama, cucumber, shredded cabbage and mango, with lots of lime and sea salt, and pile it on top. I do this with black bean tacos too. Mmmm. My obsession with this bulky version of the papusa began around the time that I discovered the heaven-sent wonders of fried plantains. My. God.

Smoothies
Oatmeal used to be one of my favorite foods. And by "used to be" I mean since about 5 weeks ago. After blowing out fuses a couple of times in the early morning, my microwave up and silenced itself. I would say died, but then I would feel guilty... (it will be fixed). What to do for breakfast then? Put everything I'd normally put in oatmeal in the blender: oats, Ades soy milk, mango and banana in the blender. Plus some flax seeds and a carrot and lots of ice. Or blackened plantains to make it super sweet and super wonderful.

***

So now I'm feeling the itch of the same conflict I feel when I spend so much time reading food blogs. Why am I interested in these people's lives and their beautiful food that I might bookmark, but will probably never make? And why are you interested in this (considering you're still reading)? Maybe it's voice. Maybe it's the same interest in getting outside of your own life and into someone else's that makes aimlessly browsing Facebook so entertaining. Whatever it is, I hope you have your own reason for enjoying my blog, as I enjoy writing it.

I visit a handful of blogs consistently when I am bored. There is SO much delicious food out there, made even more appetizing by writing and photography. So, here's a baby-sized blogroll:
Choosing Raw
Smitten Kitchen 
Jen Goes to College
Gluten Free Goddess

Week Two: Medio Ambiente

I didn't mention in my last post that this week of camp would be something new and special. Of course "new" doesn't mean that much because different people run the camp each summer, but this year instead of just having an "environment week" in English class, we were able to partner up with Yohaira, a biology student who lives in La Manzanilla, for lessons with much more depth. We learned early on in the planning that you can only teach kids so much in a non-native language (global warming, ecosystem, and limited resources were out of the question).

Yohaira teaching on the beach.

 Yohaira came to us with a solid, age-appropriate curriculum about natural habitats, waste, decomposition, and other very important environmental issues. We have positioned her lessons during recreo, so once the kids get to English, not only have they been introduced to the concepts, but they are tired out from walking down arroyo or beach in the morning sun. After their jaunts with Yohaira, picking up trash or exploring the ocean as a habitat (aka collecting sandcrabs in dirty cups they find), some of them aren't too keen on concentrating in the classroom, but they are quick to respond when we ask questions about the 3 R's, littering, and what is "good" and "bad" for the environment.

The kids were surprisingly eager to run around and pick up trash on the beach. Best Recreo ever!

 The lessons are reiterated, too, in art class, as they turn their own shoe boxes into seashore dioramas and their old toilet paper rolls into colorful pencil holders. Yohaira also wanted to work with the kids to share their knowledge with their families and the communities. She has provided quotations in Spanish for posters, which the kids decorated today and will hang with her tomorrow in the Jardín during recreo.

In many ways it seems consumption is much lower here because people reuse and repair things like clothing, toys, and appliances much more often. For example, when I first got here, we went to Melaque to repair Nancy's old fan. In the states many would consider the fan "old" and buy a new one. However, packaging waste and littering is a huge problem and hopefully Yohaira's lessons and the signs in the Jardín will get people thinking about it in a new way.

Yohaira's project this week has exemplified the benefits of working with local people and the skills and knowledge they have to teach different types of lessons through the Foundation's programs. This is necessary to keep in mind when planning future programs and evaluating the foundation's success within the community, discussions which have been raised lately as the fall draws nearer. We have observed our classes narrowing drastically in size during the late spring and summer and have many questions: Why don't more people attend our classes, when so many claim that learning English is among their top priorities? Does everyone in the town know about LCEF? Do we need a better way to spread the word, or should we alter the types of programs offered? Will a small fee make people more likely to dedicate themselves to the programs? We ask this question because a local woman charging a small amount for homework tutoring has a better turnout than our free tutoring program (still run by a local woman) does.

In response to all of these questions and our acknowledged need for some changes, Nancy is preparing a survey, which will be distributed in coming months. We all feel that regardless of participant number we must continue offering adult English classes, but we also see the need to discover what else we can do to attract long-term learners. This type of predicament also brings about questions of how we must work around and with cultural differences (when it comes to timing, commitment, advertisement, ect.) when planning. Hopefully further discourse with the community, especially the eventual surveys, will produce some answers that will make our programs more accessible to all.

It's hard too pinpoint why my lust for blogging has began to lag. My best guess is that with only two weeks left in La Manzanilla, I have stopped wanting to share, analyze, and summarize, choosing instead to simply experience. Things have stayed relatively the same throughout my time here, and this simplicity has escaped stagnation. Despite the drastic changes in coloration (all of a sudden I am surrounded by green. SO MUCH GREEN) and daily schedule, the pleasant, tranquil way of life I have grown so accustomed to goes on unaltered.

Some examples of the green. After a month or so of rain the creeks have filled and the entire landscape has changed.

  Friday marked the end of the first week of Curso de Verano, LCEF's summer camp for local kids grades 2-6 (or whatever grade their parents say they are in... we have some very little ones). In English class, our theme for the week was "The Five Senses," which gave us lots to work with including fun vocab about the body, textures, smells, and tastes, and interactive games. Neither Steph nor I had worked with so many kids before, especially of such varied ages, and we definitely found, over the course of the week, what types of classroom interaction work better than others. We generally stuck to 15 minutes of vocab teaching, a 20-ish minute experiential game, and 15 minutes with these workbooks we made which have lots of coloring and word games. The station-to-station games, like the one where you stick your hand into dark mysterious containers and guess the texture, worked the best, because there was a lot of movement and everyone got to do each activity. Things like hangman and charades, which we do a lot of in the after-school classes, didn't work as well because it left some kids to look out the windows and wish it was time for art.

Speaking of art, Isa's classes were awesome. The projects generally went along with the English themes: fruitloop jewelery (taste), textured solar systems (touch), origami frogs and crocodiles (sight), and the beginnings of painted drums made of big old yogurt containers (hearing). Throughout all of the classes the space gets pretty hectic, but we are learning to go with it. Luckily we have handfuls of teenage volunteers (LCEF's scholarship students have to do a certain number of community service hours) to help out. And a perfect end to the week: a swimming trip!

Even as I write this I'm struggling not to fall into a factual sentence + piles of pictures blog strategy. I am sleepy from a lovely evening swim wherein there were currents of really cool water flowing through the warm water. It felt amazing, and also reminded me of swimming in cool river water, which I will probably do pretty darn soon. This weekend has been well balanced between relaxing, planning for the coming week, and doing some cool stuff. Really cool stuff, actually. Saturday morning we went on a gorgeous hike in the mountains, and on Saturday evening we took a little boat tour in the marshes where the crocodiles live with Jens, a 17 year old boy who is studying at the Spanish school. The marsh is right in town, blocked off only by a chain link fence, and there are raised wooden paths running through it. Crocodiles are pretty scary from afar, not to mention from a rickity foot bridge over the marsh.

Our boat ride was surprisingly peaceful, despite the pools of tiny bubbles that would form around the boat from time to time (crocs under water). We went in the evening, and all of the birds were flying around the mangroves as the sun went down slowly. After our tour we stopped by a hoppin birthday party, with a full band and tons of cake and balloons. Then we hung out with Jens for a while, I ate too many Japonesa flavored peanuts and almost choked on my water when Jens told me that instead of cars or limos, the kids of suburban Minnesota now take pimped out Party Buses to prom. Glad I'm still learning so much in La Manz. Finally, I must share this picture of the rather epic entrada to La Manzanilla.

DF (Distrito Federal) aka Mexico City

A couple of things have pleasantly surprised me lately: (a) I can actually sleep a full, 9 hr night on a bus; (b) being sandwiched between ten men on an evening subway ride in downtown Mexico City is not always as bad as it sounds, and in fact much like being in a hellishly overcrowded club (which I guess sounds very bad); (c) a lost affinity for taking cold showers can be recovered. In fact, this list could go on forever, because almost everything about our trip to DF was surprisingly smooth, despite the horror stories that we'd heard.

 Our first lovely surprise: Puerto Vallarta is much more charming than it looks from the plane or the bus station. Aside from an Americanized resort strip and the parts of town you can see from the bus, there is also a pleasant downtown, with elaborate old Spanish architecture, lots of restaurants, nice walking streets, and a beautiful cathedral. Also of importance is Hostel Oasis, where though we were greeted by an openly hungover Swedish manager, we were given beds, cool common areas, and free pancake breakfast. We walked all over the town, Stephanie, Denver (her boyfriend who was visiting and flying out of PV), and I, ate some delicious tamales and mushroom tacos, and went out to a lofted bar, which we entered through a sketch elevator in a hotel lobby. This was really fun. Denver had a shot of tequila and a Modela, and I had a tequila sunrise. Yes, we are tourists now.

The above photos (its true, I just discovered Picasa), show our excitement of making it to the city and wandering around to find free art and entertainment behind every open doorway. We were especially enthused by this Spanish Culture Museum music exhibit, which included rooms of blown up gig posters and photos, a room on the history of Sony music-listening machines, and our new piece of heaven: a room with playlists from over 15 Mexican and Spanish labels (plus Arts & Crafts...) along the walls. After a 5 hour over night bus ride (not long enough for a night's sleep) we had arrived that morning at Hostel Mundo Joven, a chain hostel right in the Zocalo. They gave us free toast and fruit, but we were still a little dazed. This state turned into starry-eyed relaxation when we stumbled upon the music exhibit where we were given awesome headphones and little clickers with which to listen to the playlists. It seemed like this was made for us, for in the center of the room sat a group of fluffy beanbag chairs. Needless to say we stayed in that room for a long time.

I got in trouble for taking the above photos, but they seem so necessary to my foreign portrayal of DF. They hang in a high ceiling-ed hallway gallery outside of an urban chic bookstore/coffee shop. There are over 20 different poster designs, all speaking artistically to the cultural offerings of the Centro Histórico. From info gleaned across the city, notably the "MEXICO 2010" signs on the Metro and at museum entrances, it seems that the government has recently gone through a total image renovation, aimed at reversing the dirty, dangerous Mexico City stereotype into one proud of it's rich cultural center, full of art both youthful and old. I haven't the city pre-2010, but I'd propose from the first hours of our visit that the renovation has proved successful. Everywhere we stepped there was not only art, but also sources of learning about Mexican culture and history. The center for this was the Palacio National, known for housing the bulk of Diego Rivera's murals:

It was difficult to photograph the murals, as the sun was shining in from the open courtyard, but I hope the pictures at least hint to their massive scale as well as their ability to tell powerful, layered stories of Mexico's past, present, and future. The Palacio also showcased many artifacts and displays discussing Mexican political and social history, which added great depth to Diego's murals, as well as to our knowledge of both the city and the culture. In the top of the bottom left snapshot, you can see Rivera's rendition of Teotihuacan, the ancient Aztec city whose remains live on, about an hour outside of present-day Mexico City. Our second day in the city we woke up early, had hostel coffee and sweet Bimbo Bakery toast, and navigated through Df's truly accessible Metro system to catch a public bus to the ruins. We were going to get a guide, but instead decided to purchase a map, and guide each other around the ruins. This ended up being a wonderful decision, and resulted in almost four houses of wandering with some direction through the ancient city, spending much time sitting on pyramid levels and weaving between stone walls, chatting and exploring. It was pretty magnificent.

Exhausted from walking up and down pyramids in the midday sun, and my body striped red and white from a little too much of said sun, we relaxed at the hostel for the night, waking up the next morning to roam the Centro Historico one last time. The following at four photos of things I really liked: (a) The cathedral, sitting enormous and elaborate in the center of the square, right before our hostel, (b) this Luis Granta exhibit, which was set back in this large, but unfinished museum. We walked through a courtyard with random construction equipment in it to get to three spacious room of Granta's work, which was colorful, a little abstract, and deeply layered in paint, just like I like it, (c) a plate of sweet bread served before a meal at Cafe Blanca, a big white diner, the type with a counter around the grill where many old men sit and read the paper. I never knew there would be so much delicious bread in Mexico. Can't get enough; and (d) the juxtaposition of old Spanish architecture and modern public art that makes big cities so appealing to me.

On Tuesday we took a combination of metro/train/bus outside of DF to visit Stephanie's friend Cailey and her beautiful baby Xitlali. Her family welcomed us in for the night and she made us some mindblowing chile rellenos. It was definitely worth the hours of transport :)

After returning to the city, we took the metro to a new area of town, Condesa, where we found a bizarrely cheap hostel. Condesa is a semi-hip neighborhood with lots of big old townhouses, trees, and little boutiques and galleries. The hostel itself was pretty hip as well, with a rooftop patio and coffee-shop like bar/common room. It was run by a family who seemed to really like to party (grandma included), and was a tad disfunctional, but for one night it provided us with beds, easy access to a cool area, and a mojitos night complete with some new friends and free internet. The next morning, our last in the city, we went to the infamous museum of anthropology. The museum was really impressive, with extensive exhibits on Mexican history. The artifacts were less interesting, I thought, than the display tags, which turned complicated history and anthropological arguments into comprehensible, affective paragraphs. It was the last museum we went to so that may have influenced my experience... We also took a rainy walk through Chapultatec Park, DF's largest green space, and then walked down the Reforma, a tree lined boulevard that led us to the Angel de la Indepencia:

And so our time in DF went smoothly. It's funny how accomplished a solid little trip can make you feel. There is such a difference between being abroad in a city and being abroad in a tiny town in the country, so we are still adjusting to the reverse of all that excitement (not a negative reverse, don't worry). Our summer camp, which has been our project for the past few weeks, started today and I think it will make the next three weeks fly by. Not that I want them to... I'm a little torn about going home so soon, and am trying to soak up as much Spanish, beautiful beach views, and La Manzanilla as I possibly can. After a long walk on the beach this evening, I think that will be easy to do.

Schools Out!

School is ending for the summer. This means no more after-school English class, or teaching at the Primaria and Secundaria. It also means no more trying to teach over prepubescent antics--soccer balls in t-shirts (Embarazada? Felicidades!), total disinterest, jokes on my Spanish pronunciation. Most importantly, school's end means a handful of ridiculously cute graduation ceremonies. And, let me tell you, the Mexicans know how to do ceremony.

First was the Kinder graduation last week, which was possibly the one with the most attendance, excitement (dancing), and pomp of all three. It was also most adorable. How could it not be?

At the Kinder "graduation" everyone was looking sharp. The girls had the most elaborate hairdos, and everyone stood up straight. Very straight.

The best part of all was the dancing. Not sure why the some of the girls wore perfect white dresses and others preferred to wear ripped jean skirts and crop tops. Watching the trend of unbuttoning and tying up the bottom of your top race down the line of little girls made me feel like a prude. I guess it was kind of hot out?

At the start of every graduation, there is a flag march. At the Kinder we couldn't tell it was tradition because their steps weren't really together. The secundaria and primaria kids this week made it much more obvious. Their shuffles and marches and "Ya!"s were perfect. It was especially entertaining to watch the kids that we teach in class straighten themselves out a little.

Because school is ending, and our internships are transitions, Stephanie and I are going on a little (big?) trip to Mexico city. So...because I am not in the mood to write, I will demonstrate.

I am leaving here:

 And going here:

As I have not made it to DF yet, this photocredit goes to this random blog. Thanks!

Talk to you in one week! <3

In the Spirit of American Patriotism...

I AM GOING TO FRANCE! And just as I was falling asleep last night, strangely exhausted from the two semi-short walks I had taken, I found out my placement. I am going to be teaching secondary school in La Rochelle. After scouring google (maps and images), I have decided that this is great news. It sounds like La Rochelle is a small city, on the Atlantic, medieval in ways, but also a college town with some urban culture. Perfect. After living in La Manzanilla this summer, I think a city, versus a tiny town in the country, will be a welcome change.

You would think that having so much to look forward to would make it difficult to live in the moment here, but that doesn't seem to be the case at all. My mind is obviously split between many places (mostly my imagination, actually), but I still have much to do here, and much to learn. This morning torrential downpour is keeping me inside, but I am busy with camp preparations and have also started writing again, which is a great use of my free time here and whisks away my tiny bouts of loneliness or boredom. In other news, I inconveniently lost my umbrella, which means that when the rain ebbs today I must run down and buy one of the beautifully patterned huge silk umbrellas that all the old women carry. Bummer. : )

Rain, Perfumed Breezes, and Making People out of Beads

With the rain that has been pummeling us lately comes a wind that blows the silt and mist right through my pane-less windows, dusting my front room and kitchen counter. This morning, along with a spotty layer coating the dishes in my drying rack, I awoke to the perfume of the tiny white flowers that grow on the bushes in my front yard, also carried in by the breeze.

I slept later than usual. This was made even nicer by the sound of rain behind my head. I have had trouble sleeping lately, but as long as I don't have dreams of terrible weddings and my mother's awful new tattoos, I don't mind waking up intermittently, pattering around the house for a minute or two, and falling back asleep. The extra hours refreshed me, and I felt happily awake when we walked down the hill to have breakfast with our language school friends, who are, in fact, from Portland! Under the palapa roof of Guacamole's beachside patio, we ate chiliquilies verde, mine with scrambled eggs, and beans and tons of fluffy fresh bread. I also treated myself to fresh squeezed orange juice which was bliss.

The rain streamed down through holes in the palapa, soaking the table besides us, but we stayed dry. We talked and ate for over two hours, watching the strangely placid ocean, a sheet of blue and storm brown dotted with the capped heads of fishermen walking in water up to their shoulders, circling their nets. We followed the girls home after lunch, as they were leaving today to go home, and wanted to empty out their refrigerator for us (YES!). They supplied me with things I wouldn't buy myself but reveled in: peanut butter, licorice tea, chocolate, dried cranberries. They also handed over a thick Spanish dictionary, some sweet Ades soy milk, and a jug of guava juice. Though I was sad to see them go, their departure was followed by an unusually delicious smoothie.

This afternoon I sat at the table by my front window with Isa, the art teacher for our camp, who also happens to be my Spanish teacher, making craft plans and supply lists for the camp. Our themes for the three weeks are the Environment, the Five Senses, and Healthy Living, and she thought of some pretty fun crafts. Our meeting was really productive and ended in our trying out of one of my craft ideas: making little people from beads and string, like the beaded lizards we used to make at swim meets what we were little. This was enjoyable, as the crafting only added to my simmering excitement of being able to hold a meeting entirely in Spanish.

I look incredibly excited about my bead figure. Hope Isa was just as excited.

And throughout our afternoon, I couldn't help but say over and over how lovely the smell of the flowers wafting though my house was, and Isa pointed out which flowers were responsible. The smell followed me around for the rest of the evening, as I spent time inside, frying plantains, making supplies lists, talking to my Portland girl friends on Skype, and doing pilates on the floor. 

The weekend reminds me of the interesting, and at times challenging, process of settling into a place where you know you will only live for two months. I could say it induces mild loneliness or homesickness, but it escapes that, because I actually enjoy my evening solitude, and spend time with great people often. I am also very comfortable with my place in the community, recognizing and speaking with people around town, building relationships with kids and adults through work and intercambios, but also retaining a basic lifestyle very similar to that I had in Portland. I seem adjust in new ways to the community with every little experience I have here, which makes me excited about the month to come.

Failed Movie Nights and Development Projects

Unsurprisingly my educational experiences in La Manzanilla extend beyond watching lightning crack over the ocean, delighting in children bent over their bikes racing across the field get to after school English class a half hour late, and discovering that geckos make sweet little kissing noises (“bescados”... “besos”). In fact, I am learning much daily, through observation and conversation, about development projects. I should probably have Stephanie, a student of urban and rural development, guest post about this, for my knowledge is rather elementary. However, it turns out that learning about international development and specifically the work of grassroots non-profits within it has become a goal of my time here.

Writing my Reed grant proposal and learning more about LCEF first centralized the idea of grassroots approaches to community development, for LCEF's existence within the La Manz community is entirely dependent on conversation and involvement with the local people. Via Skype this spring, Nancy (this seems like such a long time ago) talked much about how the foundation only provides the support and opportunities voiced by the community. They also employ as many local people as possible, not only to create jobs, but also to add strength and consistency to the programs that cannot come from temporary volunteers or foreign residents, even those who have lived here for years.

The idea of asking a community to generate ideas and needs makes so much sense, but after an afternoon-long conversation with two doctors/medical faculty from San Diego State last weekend, it seems a difficult concept for many to apply. The women were in La Manzanilla doing Sex-ED talks in the middle school, and working in the local clinic. They came here with much knowledge, but did not begin their programs until after long discussions with school board members and parents had decided upon the topic for their adolescent health talks.

In one Saturday afternoon over a snack of coconut meat with lime and chili, Maria, the director of SDS's programs, shared handfuls of both ridiculous and successful stories from her involvement in many health projects worldwide. She cited projects where South African communities had been given the technology to develop detailed health initiatives. Maria's grad-students then brought supplies and assistance, aware in advance of the needs and the project's place within the community. In this case, the project was sustained vigorously after the students left, and the community leaders now apply for and receive grant funding to continue and expand their initiatives.

She also told stories which stuck deeper in my mind for their almost obscene nature. Stories of development groups building latrines on the tops of hills in countries with torrential rainy seasons; of researchers giving condoms to prostitutes who would be beaten if they tried to use them, who said if they were given alternative ways to feed their families, the problem would be solved; of latrine building in countries where shitting indoors was unheard of—the latrines were soon surrounded by piles, and eventually the developers realized they should build trenches instead. Maria said this realization took an inane amount of time.

This evening, I left my house at 7:30 and walked in the warm drizzle to the Centro Educativo for English Movie Night, take 2. Last week, after purchasing a cheap DVD player and postering the jardín, we had our first weekly night of fun... This ended up consisting of Stephanie, Nancy, and I talking for an hour or so while the dvd menu played and replayed, before heading home. Nancy had a laugh as she recalled our conversations with Maria. We did intend to ask our Adult and Secundaria classes if they would be interested in a Friday night movie, and what time would work best for them, but amidst other concerns and class happenings, this got pushed aside.

So, as I sat and watched the first half-hour of “How Do You Know” alone in the Centro tonight, I thought about how to initiate projects, even this small, within communities, and the necessity of conversation. Obviously my example is kind of trite and knowledge very limited, but my mind (normally packed with lit theory and poetic analysis) is newly open to learning more about development projects, both in the States and abroad, especially as I hope to use my love for writing for community nonprofit work in the future. <3

Saturdays

My title is plural, though this post is only about today, because the weekends here have taken up a trend of being a time for walking arroyos, going to the beach, planning, reading, napping, ect. They also bring up little quarrels in my head about what one should do when "living" in a place, but not having the constant bustle of the last place one called home. I suppose I'm going through the phase that I do at the beginning of each summer when I feel strangely guilty for laying in bed reading in the afternoon or browsing food blogs, getting excited about recipes I don't have the ingredients for. This is doubled, too, due to the pressure of living in such a beautiful new place. Shouldn't I be at the beach all the time and constantly practicing my Spanish?

The pressure passes, though, thanks to the reminders that I am browsing the net while breaking from work (most of the time), staying in at night because I truly enjoy my home here, and reading in bed because I have the time to do so. This internship has also been a little trial in "working from home," as I spend a good portion of my time editing docs for the website, planning lessons, and planning the July summer camp (and writing my blog which I sneakily think of as a "to do"). It's turning out quite productively, given the fact that I have spent the last 4 years working out of an ultra-silent library.

Because we are planning projects on our own time, I would think that "weekend" wouldn't mean too much, but, it does. It enables us to wake up early and exhaust ourselves within the first four hours of the day, eat, nap, work for a couple of hours, and then walk on the beach. This morning, Nancy swung by with Kaio around 8:30 and we met her bf, Jose, at his little house on the other end of town. The house is a simple square, but the yard is kept-up, like a porch. Many people here treat the space in front of their houses, whether it be a couple feet to roadside or in the middle of a field, just like that, sweeping them clean with a broom, spraying them down to wet the dust, arranging hammocks or chairs, and growing beautifully colorful flowers. Jose had two hammocks with an arbor of these viney flowers here that are either deep magenta, yellow, or rice-paper white. Pleasant, to say the least.

I wanted to share this adorable picture of Kaio, but credit goes 100% to Stephanie. It was taken before I even got here, haha.

So, we took off from his house, hiking up a riverbed, stepping from rock to rock, following him as he choose paths when the stream split. It was a nice feeling of being just-out-of-bed tired and following someone who knew where they were going down trails that didn't seem like trails. On our way back we heard rumbles and shouting behind us, and next thing we know it, a horse pulling a large log lumbers down the path, edged on by a few of our students and their dogs. There was a whole pack of horses, and it was impressive but unsettling watching them barrel through the rocky creek bed, as fast as possible to keep the switch of their backs and the logs from gaining enough momentum to click them in the hooves.

On the way to the beach after our walk we stopped at a field to pick mangoes. I now have about twenty sitting, washed and ready to eat, in my drying rack. We then drove to a part of the beach I had never swum. We parked next to the cemetery, where white stone gravemarkers and elaborate shrine-like structures sit, laden with plastic and crepe-paper flowers, flags, and candles. The colorful cemetery butts right up against the beach. The waves were big today, and once we got out far enough we let them throw us gently us and down and lost track of time.

When we got back home it was only 11:30. I really do love living here. 

Before the Storm Came and Went

If we are going to take pictures before the walk even gets pretty, we must showcase Kaio, our reason for being (...walking).

 Last Sunday morning, we took Kaio, Nancy's pooch (who has traveled with her all over Central America), for a walk down the arroyo, or dried up river bed, to some watering holes, that are not quite watering holes yet. We encountered lots of dead animals, mosquitos, green water, and palm trees stretching out of thick brush. Past the trail-side pig farm and creepy flocks of vultures, the landscape got progressively richer, reminding me of that which the dinosaurs used to roam. Maybe it's the newness of tropical forests to me, but it all seems so ancient, as if from a National Geo episode where they computer animate prehistoric reptiles.

Will I ever become disenchanted with all things tropical? Not when they look like this.

We go for walks in the mornings to avoid direct heat, and to get pictures like this one.

Another amazing example of why this landscape feels old to me.

 Nancy loves to see how many times Kaio will swim back and forth chasing rocks before he realizes that rocks sink.  (Answer: a very long time.)

 

Lying Low (a semi-boring blog entry incited by a HURRICANE)

Last night I made a rice and chickpea salad with veggies and lots of lime and sea salt (my few seasonings here, as I haven't learned words for spices yet) as the sky outside my kitchen window darkened. In the back of my head, I couldn't help but think about this being a perfect meal if Hurricane Beatriz hit as predicted and the power went out for days, because it is cooked, would be fine unfrigerated, and ended up rather huge. The cold (by La Manz standards, which I have happily adapted to) wind blew right through my screened windows and I wondered when the flash-flood rains would join it.

Though I slept lightly, listening for the drizzle to pick up and the thunder to crack, the hurricane never touched us, leaving only the rain (which is the weird mist that usually annoys Portland) and an accompanying overcast. Beatriz did fizzle into a pretty mighty tropical storm down the coast in ManzanillO, which caught the eye of The Guardian.

Truthfully, the lasting rain fall slows down our days in a pleasant way and comforts me. The three Portlanders in my language classes feel the same way. It helps, too, that this week is less packed than normal, because Stephanie and I planned all of our lessons over the weekend, and some visiting teachers wanted to teach our after school class. School here is rounding up for the summer, and we've begun to plan the summer camp (three weeks of fun in July). It feels strange to be able to map out the rest of my time here, but also gives it some productive momentum.

Speaking of which, I just wrote the first blog entry for La Catalina's "Summer Intern Blog," which should go live soon. It will be a lot like this blog, but more project and learning centered (aka, this entry would not be included). I think it should help the foundation recruit new interns, as well as supporters who are attracted by more personal narratives of the foundation's work in La Manzanilla. Actually, this is a perfect time to link you to our website, in case you don't already know what exactly I am doing down here: http://www.lacatalinafoundation.com/.

Sleepy rain makes me appreciate the effects of coffee on numbing my instinct to hibernate, and also the fact that most Mexican people would translate "lazy" into "tranquilo." Amen.

Happy Father's Day!

The picture says it all (well, far from all, because there is MUCH to say about my Dad). In the spirit of celebrating my papa, Dave, who has taught me innumerable things in innumerable life categories, here are ten things* I have learned over the past few days:

1. Traveling, and especially moving to a new place for a given number of months, seems to require a new personal conception of time, that one must find, parse out and adapt to (without too much thought or that would defeat it's purpose).



Slimy Nopales with rice is actually delish.

2. The big bags of green veggies in the teinda fridges that I always thought were green bell peppers are actually nopales, or cactus fruit. They are the slimiest vegetable I've ever eaten. Last night Stephanie and I stirfried them over rice. The flavor is great and really want to like them but slime is slime... I think I'll try making a raw nopales salad, and then we'll see.
3. The noises here are unlike those of any place I've been. They are not city noises, though they include loud music, laughter, yelling, and bright lights in the Jardín past midnight, because they also include church bells and early morning hymns, gas trucks song-horns and tropical bird twitters. 
4. At night these noises really comfort me, reminding me that people are awake and playing.
5. I cannot kill large bugs (ie. cockroaches and scorpions) because I am afraid of the "crunch."
6. I actually enjoy watching a cockroach move, exploring the space of my bathroom with antennas that are as long as its body. But, when I decide all of its interest would be better served outside, and try to catch it with my tooth-brushing cup, it skitters around, I jump up on my blue bathtub, and it flips over. Watching a cockroach on its back is much less fun. I flip it over with Lydia Davis's The Cows, which is fitting to the situation, and let it retreat to the dark, cool space behind my toilet.
7. You can put dry oats in smoothies. 
8. You can fry up jicama just like hashbrowned potatoes.
9. My mama got a promotion! Now we will both be in positions where we have to tell people what to do, which we are both normally hesitant of, but will raise to the occasion and be very happy. Congratulations Mama, you are so great! 
10. Masapan (those double-silver-dollar sized crumbly peanut butter candies that you kind of have to lick off the wrapper) are even better when in tiny, quarter-sized form. Especially when found in a box of about 200, as a gift from a friend (Nancy, you are great), and with a serving size of 5.

* Though I started writing this list in my journal naturally, I think it was probably inspired by the well written and entertaining lists of my good friend Maya, on her new [reborn] blog, Escape from Limbo. Thanks M!

A reminder that my dad, Dave T, is awesome. But who needs a reminder?

Comfort (+ Zumba, chismes, and impromtu art class)

I can tell I am getting more comfortable in this place and in my home because I am thoroughly enjoying the downtime I have had toward the end of this week. Yesterday I had three beautiful blocks of free time:

• The first, right after I woke up, I spent moving my hips in whacked out ways as I sweated away a Zumba class and remembered how much I like dancing to Latin pop music. How could I forget?

• The second was after my Spanish school, in the sleepiest part of the afternoon. With the mission of buying an avocado for lunch Stephanie and I ended up spending almost two hours with the teenager and the little girl who work at "Lidia's" tienda (grocery shop). Stephanie and Nancy spend a lot of time here making up chismes (gossip) about people, mostly each other, with Litzia, the older girl. She's hilarious, but even funnier was the little girl, who must have just gotten out of school and was incredibly hyper. She kept pulling herself up onto the counter and laying back and laughing so loud and making animal noises whenever we tried to talk. It made the low season even more obvious to me because the whole time we were there no customers came in. Though this may have had more to do with the squealing little girl on the countertop. Luckily, the longer Stephanie and I hung around, the more we bought... First a little bag of lime chips. Then one chocolate covered marshmallow each. Then I bought a mango, for later, and finally a single pen. Stephanie bought a blingalicious white ring with rhinestones and a flower on top that spins when you blow on it. Despite my description of this episode, I spend a surprisingly tiny amount of money here.

• The third seemed to begin when I walked down to the Centro Educatif for the drop-in art class at four. The teacher didn't show, so I took a kid's bike and ran back to the house to get Stephanie's key so they could at least make something in the hour. Sometimes my Spanish flows better than others, but trying to run an impromtu art class for 12 energized kids killed it altogether. So, I let them use all of our supplies to draw/paint/glitter glue whatever the hell they wanted, under the guise of father's day cards. And I taught them to make continuous chains of paper dolls, which I thought was cooler than they did. This wasn't downtime, but it felt like it, and I think it was because I felt, for the first time, alone and comfortable in my own head. After class, I went swimming for a bit, and read on the beach for a long time. It has been very breezy lately, but the water was warm. And it's probably not the best idea to read The Time-Traveler's Wife, a book about separation and deep longing, when you are thousands of miles away from your lover and everything you know well, but it is entertaining and interesting enough to get into my head in a way that I need.
  

So, my Friday (and my Thursday), has felt appropriately relaxing. Though, after yesterday, observing more than talking in the tienda, and trying but failing to productively direct my art class, I was frustrated with my Spanish. But, along came encouragement, this afternoon, when I had David over for our first intercambio, or language exchange. From the start, he said "I really want to be a good teacher for you," and I said "Yo tambien," followed by whatever he said in Spanish. We talked comfortably, with a lot of laughing and butchered repetitions of each other's corrections. He was less into practicing his English than in helping me with my Spanish, but I think he will become less shy with it next time. It made me realize I can actually hold a conversation in Spanish, and after he left I was aglow with this realization (and also with how much fun our learning/teaching/talking was. David seems like a solidly good and giving person).

Busy days

It is wednesday afternoon (well, it is 6:30, but that is still tarde here), and I'm in need of a siesta. Or a swim. Or a shower. This would probably be the case if you asked me how I was at any time, any day this week. Things have picked up since my blog/playa/exploration-centered weekend, and I'm gasping for free time. This isn't a bad thing, it just means I don't blog or swim as much as I'd like too. Poor me, I know. And it means I have a lot to tell you:

I. I am Kelly. I am a new teacher with La Catalina. I am from Oregon in the United States.

I've introduced myself to 5 classrooms and three after-school English sessions since Monday, pronouncing each word slowly and emphasizing certain vocabulary. I've been asked three or four times, "Do you have a boyfriend?" and "What is his name?" with a lot of giggling. Every week, the foundation holds after-school English and Adult English classes on Mondays and Wednesdays (the after-school is mostly young kids, and anyone from 12 to 60 comes to the adult classes. Varied age groups work together, play together, and learn together pretty harmoniously here.) We also teach English in the telesecondario (grades 7-8) and the teleprimaria (4,5,6) on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.

[Every morning at the Primeria, the principal leads group stretches to get everyone together. It is ridiculously entertaining and adorable to watch]

This week I've mostly been observing Stephanie teach or teaching bits and pieces of the lessons. I have to get used to the ways the different age groups can take in, remember, and combine information. It is a total learning process for me, never knowing how much they are understanding or how much they already know. I taught my first solo class (After-school English) this afternoon. It was tough, but I am excited to become more comfortable with thinking on my feet and pacing lessons energetically while not too quickly, both seem so necessary for teaching children.

[This is the Centro Educativo. The kids are lined up, ready for class. Well, as ready as they are going to get when what these girls really want to do is draw pictures with good markers... More students show up, mostly on bike, throughout the first ten minutes]

What has surprised and excited me most is how eager [most of] the kids and adults are to learn English through the foundation's programs. Kids appear to come to the afterschool classes totally on their own accord, and some older kids come to the drop-in Adult English with notebooks prepared and homework completed. Pedro, a student at the secondario, lives next door to us, and whenever I'm at Stephanie's late and come downstairs to my place, I see him on his plant-covered porch working on his homework. Stephanie says many of the parents, and children too, realize the many opportunities provided by the foundation, that this is unique to La Manzanilla, and embrace them as they come.

II. Escuela de español.

[Terry and Stephanie in Spanish Class]

Monday, I started spanish school at the La Catalina Natural Language Institute (what a name), three hours a day, everyday of the week. I'm afraid my mind might be at war, because it knows that in three months I'll have to return to the French I am so ardently trying to erase right now. The school's philosophy is that of natural language learning, so they put very little emphasis on memorization. Even more helpful than three hours of class a day, is that class gets me in the rhythm of speaking Spanish, and surrounds me with people who have come here to learn Spanish. Our teacher is a local woman (20-30s I think), Lyn, who doesn't create the lessons, but presents them. Her english is shaky, so I learn many words through descriptions in Spanish.

Spanish school introduced me to three new friends, my classmates, all from the Pacific NW. I guess we NW's love to travel...or have a desperate need to escape the rain this time of year. They came--two girls from Portland, and one woman from Olympia--to Stephanie's apartment last night to watch a movie in Spanish with Spanish subtitles, which was really helpful. We watched "Vitus," an adorable German film, about a child prodigy (not one of THOSE movies, but kind of). It's a clever movie, especially when it takes you a while to figure out what's happening.

My spanish will also improve as I continue teaching and beginning my "intercambio" or language exchange with David, our water delivery guy, where we will talk a half-hour in Spanish and a half-hour in English.

III. Otros pensamientos

I was Skyping with my mama (and grandma, and dad, and sister, and faux-grandad, all VERY excited by the idea of Skype and laughing uncontrollably at me talking with lag time) the other night, and she asked if I was homesick. I immediately said no, and meant it. I have a different outlook this summer, for if I wasn't here, I don't know what I would be doing. Having graduated I feel unstuck to places. It's time to travel in this way.

That said, I feel pangs (yes, the cheesy word fits) of nostalgia or want when certain little things come up. For instance, I am around a lot of family gatherings, and get nostalgic for summer reunions at my Grandma's and playing in the Rogue. After the soccer game, I was thinking on and off about watching the world cup games in Portland last summer and eating lots of potato-based bar food. We read a Spanish article about Frida today, which reminded me of the Frida exhibit at the SF MOMA that Trevor and I saw when we took a road trip down the 101 the first summer we met. I explained in broken Spanish (flooded with accidental French) how cool the exhibit was and how painful and interesting Frida's non-portrait paintings were (they had handmade wooden frames sliced with red paint and barbed wire and were endlessly layered). Learning different words in Spanish class, I always attach them subconsciously to different occasions (most always summery occasions). It doesn't help that I'm usually tired during Spanish class, and the class room opens out into a beautiful view of the coastline. My mind can wander forevvver.

[the view from my "classroom." whatttt?!]