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?!]

LA MANZANILLA CAMPÉON!!

This afternoon was hot. Stephanie and I were tired and thinking about the beach. But this afternoon the Manzanilla men's adult fútbol team was playing in the final match of the Jalisco championships. We had to go. So, after much deliberation and laziness we got on the last bus to Chihautlan, which is only 40 minutes by car but was an hour and a half by bus. We got there before things got too exciting and were immediately glad we came (well, I was, probably because of napping before. Stephanie was sleeeeeepyyyy.)

Seriously entertaining day from the start when Stephanie decided to wear an orange shirt after we couldn't figure out the colors. Turns out that is Chihautlan's color. WHAT are the chances of that??

We were on a roll in the second half, scoring 3 more good goals, one right before the end of the game. 4-1!! The party begins.

A woman doles out the flags at the beginning of the game and wrestles them out of all the men's fingers when its over. The man in the white shirt is Berto who offered us a ride home with his uncle. Sweetest guy I've met.

And on the way back through Chihuatlan, after stopping for more beer at a Modela store where you can buy singles and after painting the car with green window marker and yelling a little, we drove in the parade of cars singing for Manzanilla. Pickup trucks full of people cheering and waving flags. Three hours after the team got back to town (which caused an explosion of honking and screaming and music) people are still celebrating in the Jardín. Arriba Manzanilla!!

Picturas!

This morning Stephanie and I woke up early and walked to Bocas de Iguanas, a beach town (mostly inland, though) located at the end of our beach. It was about two hours walk there. Totally worth the early rise.

[Made it back to La Manz just as it was beginning to heat up. Here is a great view of the beach front.] [We found a skimboard that floated in; now we have to youtube how to use it...]

[Steph exiting the public Entrada]



[The shopping district is two one-way streets. Here's one of them.]


[home sweet home on the hill]

Waiting for the Storm to Come (in a good way)

[A real storm hasn't come yet, so I only have a picture of the
beautiful flowers brought by the last storm.]

Yesterday morning I walked up the steep hill to Julie and Victor's house, below which is the LCEF office. When I was almost to the top of the stairs it started raining really lightly. At first I thought the sound was just wind in the trees, but then I felt a little mist. I sat on their small wrap-around porch waiting for Julie who was in the shower and thought about how weak this rain was compared with the tropical storms I'd been warned of. This has nothing on Portland, I thought, as I made kissy faces at their shy black lab puppy who kept peeking around the porch corner.

Julie and Victor are the co-founders of the foundation, and are the kindest people. Julie took me downstairs to the office to talk about which Spanish language class I should be placed in come Monday. Thanks to Alex, my tutor extraordinaire, I could actually speak to her a little in Spanish and translate the paragraphs she gave to me. I can't wait to start classes.

When we were finished, I noted the light rain, and she filled me in on the tropical storm thing. "They'll come, all at once, a couple times a week, in the mid-afternoon. Black clouds roll over and you'll hear thunder and see flashes of lightening and it will start dumping rain." Sounds fun to me. But, she then told me that however much you want to go walk in the rain, stay inside. She told me the story of Dean, who thought he could ride his bike home really fast in the storm. A lightening bolt hit the ground right in front of his bike tire.

Later that afternoon, when I was floating around in the ocean, I watched dark clouds come in from the hills. There were many breaks in the clouds, including one over the beach, where the blue sky and sun shined through. It didn't rain, but the wind started blowing. I looked down the water to see if any of the locals got out of the water, and told myself that I would get out when they got out. They never did, and the clouds never broke open with storm, but I watched them hesitantly throughout my swim.

After the adult English class I went to with Nancy on my first day here the same almost-storm rolled in. The town gets darker and windier, and I get excited. That night, I saw Victor and Julie digging in the yard behind the Educational Center, which is a small, one-room building where most of our classes are held. They said they were making a Mexican sweat lodge out of bricks and that it would be finished in a month so I could try it out. I can't imagine wanting to sweat more, but it sounds cool.

They also told me they'd probably be out there until they got rained on, and since Julie hadn't warned me about the lightening, I took a walk around the Jardin, across the public entrada to the beach and stood watching the waves for a while, feeling the electricity of the weather. Maybe I imagined this electricity, because the storm never came. I walked back to my house excited for the afternoon when it does and I can sit in front of Stephanie's huge high windows and watch it.

From the House on the Hill

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Good news: today I was told multiple times that the past two days have been the hottest of the season. I've been taking a couple quick cold showers daily, including a nice one before bed. Yesterday afternoon Stephanie and I went swimming and it felt amazing--bathwater warm with nice little swells to rock us around for an hour or so. I went again today and played around for a long time, swimming back and forth and diving through the waves. So good.

After swimming today, Stephanie and I walked to a community art class run by Karen Taylor, a Gringo who has lived here for years. Everyone's story seems the same: "I was supposed to just be on vacation, but I never left." Some come for half the year, and others a couple of months. Karen has a beautiful place--just a small square house, but she had a palapa roof built on top of her flat roof, so the wind blows through the open rooftop room which she had tiled. She holds donation yoga classes there every morning. This was her first art class, so she asked Nancy if her interns wanted to join for some moral support. The foundation seems to help anyone who wants to start a community class. Karen said she tries to then donate 20 percent of the proceeds to the foundation.

At the art class (we made vases out of recycled bottles, magazine clippings, and glue) there were four ninos, one was bilingual and his mother came too. They both spoke perfect, unaccented English, but their Spanish was also fluent. The boy goes to school at the Primera, and they live here the majority of the year, but noted leaving in a week or two for the summer. I asked the lady where they are from, and she seemed almost offended, saying that they live here.

I haven't quite sorted out how the relations and balances work between the Gringo population here and the locals. It is incredibly different than the resort community I observed from bus and taxi in PV. There are no resorts directly in the town (though some on visible hillsides down the coast), and many who live here generate projects that benefit the town greatly: one couple runs a veterinary clinic that offers free neutering once a year which has almost eliminated the population of stray street dogs, the woman at the art class holds a Zumba class that a lot of local women attend. It is also strange, though, that people live here without speaking the language, feeling content spending time primarily with other Gringos. This isn't the norm, as most do speak Spanish, and are pretty integrated into the community.

Stephanie studied International Development in college, and has an interesting take on things. On the way back from the art class I asked what she's noticed about the relationships between communities here. She said they are mostly positive, and that the economy has begun to rely heavily on tourism. In the summer months, though, that means there is a lull and people are just waiting for the next Gringo to walk through. I noticed that when I was lying on the beach today, because the same necklace, tattoo, and beach toy vendors that came when we were eating yesterday walked all the way down the beach for me. The tourism also raises land prices, but employs much local labor. Hmmm...

I went to my first English class last night--an adult English class with regular participants. They were really good and eager to learn. It seems that so many locals are ready to take advantage of any programs offered by the foundation, which is awesome. More on teaching and the education system soon. They are holding a four day meeting with school representatives, teachers, PTA parents, and government officials that is used as a forum to discuss improvements that will then be taken to a Jalisco-wide conference. I'm meaning to go next week, so if I pick up on anything I will share!

[In the hills the nicer local houses intermingle with crazy modern and artsy Gringo houses]

Made it to La Manzanilla!

[Me in my dining room. Forgot my camera, but saved by photobooth.]

I am sitting under the best fan in the house, still sweating. It isn't debilitatingly hot here, just humid. There are many sounds in La Manzanilla--machinery (there is a lot of interesting house construction), birds (especially in the morning), evening mass broadcast from the church, and the loud Mariachi music that blasts from the gas trucks as they drive through town. It is the late afternoon, now, and I'm feeling at home in my new place--a ground floor apartment that belongs to a seasonal Gringo (yes!). Its lovely with red Spanish tile and big windows and a full kitchen. I was pleasantly surprised by all this space!

[my bedroom]

Last night, after a four and a half hour bus ride down the coast I was picked up in the town of Melaque by Nancy and Stephanie, who also work for the educational foundation. The route from the plane to their backseat was surprisingly smooth. Maybe it was nerves that made me expect a more aggressive public space, but people worked with my bad (almost non-existant) Spanish, and I got where I was going. My success was more than Nancy expected, for when I called her from the bus station I told her I was going on the "ELITE" bus line, which only goes north (all the way to Tijuana if you want...). I must have looked for the only word I could properly pronounce on the buses waiting outside the station...oops. She was afraid I wouldn't be in Melaque when she arrived, but there I was, sitting on a curb as it was getting dark, the only lights from the store signs and the streetside taco and hot-dog/hamburgeusa restaurants. Made it!

Today has been my introduction. This morning Nancy took me on a walking tour through La Manz, a beautiful, colorful town surrounding a small cove of the Pacific. There are two main streets and many dirt ones that race around between houses in the hills whose geography, Nancy promised, I would eventually understand. Most of the businesses are markets or restaurants. The town is built around El Jardin, or the town square, and the Church, which sit side-by-side below my house.

[my kitchen window: you can see the church above the faucet]

After walking and talking (Nancy talking, me smiling, picking up some words, and giggling when she laughed--which she does a lot of), we ate at a restaurant on the beach with Stephanie (the other summer intern) and Julie. Julie is an adorable Californian who has been here since 2002, and co-founded the foundation when she started holding English classes in the schools. Stephanie just graduated college in Canada (Toronto, Hannah!) and we get along really well.I ate Chiliquilies con huevos, which was grand because it is basically enchiladas without cheese (tortillas baked with red sauce). It is much cooler by the water. Over our late breakfast Stephanie and Nancy told me about their synchronized swimming act, and said I can join if I can act like an 8-year old flopping around in the ocean. Oh yes, that I can do.

***

I haven't reacted in a really internal or emotional way (either good or bad) to my travels here, perhaps because it has happened smoothly. I think this has been the learned response to things since the last few weeks have been so full of graduating, moving, packing, preparing, and other tasks that, in the end, were things I had to get done (however much I've enjoyed myself!). I am looking forward to relaxing (as I am now) and re-gaining my more acute experiential senses...if you know what I mean. I think writing this blog will help, as will taking a little siesta and getting an early night. Until Monday, I am in the settling and observing stage of the "work." Perfect, because that's exactly what it feels like I am doing.

**Pictures of town coming soon (I have access to another camera woohoo!) Though if you Google "La Manzanilla" and get a beautiful, tropical beach town, that is indeed what it looks like. : )