The Eternal Hajj
Monday, August 07, 2006
Mexico y yo
This journey, as it approuches it's end, has taken me to all kinds of emotional extremes.
There were times when I wanted to leave- when I wanted nothing more than to be back in my suburban Dallas womb. And there were times when I couldn't imagine leaving- when I knew that nowhere could I be more content.
Sometimes I felt like a giant yellow freak who tripped over his own tongue while trying to talk. Other times I felt like a golden guest, welcomed by all, always with an audience for my babblings.
At times I was alone and rejected. Other times I was I was in the company of people who loved me like no others.
Ever since I have studied Spanish, and likely even before that, I found and made connections with Mexican culture. As always in my life, in college I had Mexican friends, but as my ability to speak the language expanded so did the number and diversity of aquaintances, including undocumented workers from remote mountain villages to upper middle-class students who came to study in Dallas from the modern industrialized cities of Mexico. And, of course, all kinds of eople in between those extremes.
Without generalizing too much or making an unfounded conclusion I would have to say that those people became my close friends BECAUSE THEY WERE MEXICAN. That is to say, the openess and friendly tendancy found in these particular Mexican peopel allowed them to discover and accept who I was far better tahn any of my countrymen, friend or foe.
I can say this because for all of my childhood and adolescence I found an excess of rejection and attempts by others (my countrymen) to deconstruct the image I had created for myself.
For some reason I have difficulty with the modern American identity. Everyone lives entirely in the present, forgetting the rich history that we have and ignoring the future that we must work hard to ensure. I am constantly bewildered by my American friends. They are lovely people but their social behavior usually leaves me cold and its a struggle not to get my feelings hurt. I guess I cannot criticize any of this because it is totalyl satisfactory for most Americans, but that's why Ia m sure that I am not "most Americans."
And it's not th at Mexico is free of the same sociological phenomena, but somehow, at least in my view, Mexican society tends to be more individualistic (or better said, accepting of the individual) and more collective (as in, people can depend on one-another) at the same time.
Of course, I speak I speak only from my experience. The Mexican national character cannot be explained in a few pages of my journal let alone a compaison beween the two societies (see "Labyrinth of Solitude" by Octavio Paz). To explain my personal connection, this does suffice. ¶ 9:58 PM 0 comments
There were times when I wanted to leave- when I wanted nothing more than to be back in my suburban Dallas womb. And there were times when I couldn't imagine leaving- when I knew that nowhere could I be more content.
Sometimes I felt like a giant yellow freak who tripped over his own tongue while trying to talk. Other times I felt like a golden guest, welcomed by all, always with an audience for my babblings.
At times I was alone and rejected. Other times I was I was in the company of people who loved me like no others.
Ever since I have studied Spanish, and likely even before that, I found and made connections with Mexican culture. As always in my life, in college I had Mexican friends, but as my ability to speak the language expanded so did the number and diversity of aquaintances, including undocumented workers from remote mountain villages to upper middle-class students who came to study in Dallas from the modern industrialized cities of Mexico. And, of course, all kinds of eople in between those extremes.
Without generalizing too much or making an unfounded conclusion I would have to say that those people became my close friends BECAUSE THEY WERE MEXICAN. That is to say, the openess and friendly tendancy found in these particular Mexican peopel allowed them to discover and accept who I was far better tahn any of my countrymen, friend or foe.
I can say this because for all of my childhood and adolescence I found an excess of rejection and attempts by others (my countrymen) to deconstruct the image I had created for myself.
For some reason I have difficulty with the modern American identity. Everyone lives entirely in the present, forgetting the rich history that we have and ignoring the future that we must work hard to ensure. I am constantly bewildered by my American friends. They are lovely people but their social behavior usually leaves me cold and its a struggle not to get my feelings hurt. I guess I cannot criticize any of this because it is totalyl satisfactory for most Americans, but that's why Ia m sure that I am not "most Americans."
And it's not th at Mexico is free of the same sociological phenomena, but somehow, at least in my view, Mexican society tends to be more individualistic (or better said, accepting of the individual) and more collective (as in, people can depend on one-another) at the same time.
Of course, I speak I speak only from my experience. The Mexican national character cannot be explained in a few pages of my journal let alone a compaison beween the two societies (see "Labyrinth of Solitude" by Octavio Paz). To explain my personal connection, this does suffice. ¶ 9:58 PM 0 comments
Friday, August 04, 2006
SLP, The Trip
At just shy of 6am I arrive in Monterrey after 12 sleepless hours on a bus. When Alvaro comes to pick me up he says: "Hey men, vamos a Real de Catorce." So about 8 hours later, of which maybe I slept 2, I am again on the road, heading south to the state of San Luis Potosi and the old mining town of Real de Catorce.
Sure I have always thought going to visit San Luis Potosi would be nice, the same way I feel about, say, Arizona. A cool place, sure, but never a specific goal of mine.
The magnificent mountain landscapes I had hoped to see between Monterrey and Guadalajara had been disappointing but along the way to Real de Catorce I saw the type of scenery I had been hoping to see. So, right away the trip was well worth it.
* * *
The Trip
We arrived to Real de Catorce with the intention of camping, but it was already late. Only shortly before leaving were we warned about the cold. The altitude of Real is about 3000 meters. Strong cold winds blow throughout the night.
After we got situated in the Hotel San Juan (Us$10 per person) we went to eat at a taco stand. At 20 pesos (2 dollars) you could either enjoy the platter of 5 tacos or 5 enchiladas. Enchiladas por favor!
Despite that fact that my digestive system was in a mess wither from eating pork and/or an excess of spicy food, I sauced up my enchiladas with some delicious green chile sauce. By the fourth enchilada I was ready to pay the price so I want to the hotel to use the sanitary facilities.
We all ended up in a hip(pie) type bar to have a Few beers. Still tired from the previous night's journey I retired just before everyone set off to the old bullfighting ring to sing and enjoy the night.
Everyone is:
Me: El Gringo
Alvaro: Padrino, a great old friend
Guns: Your typical regio bad-ass
Casasa: The self-styled leader
Chino: El Ranger, an adventurous guy
Fernando: a very friendly fellow
Slow: sort of a hippie type guy
The next day Padrino woke us up to go to the desert. We set out on a stone road that wound its way down into the valley. About 1/4 of the way down we came across a jeep and a driver and we decided to pay him for a ride. Myself and a few others rode on top of the vehicle. This gave us a beautiful view and also a sense of danger. We were repeatedly hit by tree branches and a poorly timed stop could have sent us flying over the side of a cliff. I made this comment: "La proximidad a la muerte hace que todo parece mas hermoso. (Being this close to death makes everything seem more beautiful.)
Along the mountainside we came across little villages. It was hard for me to comprehend their existence. How do people live in such places?
In the desert we took part in an ancient native ritual.
The day had been ideal and from that point until nightfall a feeling of euphoria ran through my blood. I visited the local market where a variety of things such as locally made crafts,cheezy souvenirs, traditional Mexican sweets and Chinese-made toys were being sold. I bought a gorra knit-cap, which I believe is traditionally Peruvian and so not typically something of the region but I have always wanted on and it was cheap ($5) and it would be functional at night. Something else I got from the market was the chance to hear indigenous people speaking their native tongue to each other, an opportunity that I never had before in Mexico.
We set up camp in the old bull-fighting ring on the side of the mountain under the view of a church dedicated to the Virgin of Guadalupe and St. Francis of Assisi. The hippie-type people were already congregating and playing their drums.
After some effort we constructed the tent. Then we got the fire going and put the grill on to cook some sausages and carne asada. Night came and brought with it the cold and the wind. I commented: "Todo esta con madre y a la vez a la verga." - "Everything is really good and at the sametime really bad." (In the typically vulgar Monterrey venacular.)
Soon that balance broke down and fell over to the negative side. The wind took our tent to task, first pulling it out of its supports, then after we tried to reinforce it, one of the support poles broke. We discussed abandoning the campsite and even heading for Monterrey that night. With the tent broken and fearing even more damage we had to put it away.
So we were without a place to sleep, but we had convinced ourselves that it wasn't worth the pena to return to Monterrey at that point. Our financial situation left us with just enough money to get back the next day. Another night in a hotel was not an option. At that point either the stress of the situation, the smoke of the fire, the poor diet of the last few days, the thin mountain air or a combination of these factors had me feeling terrible and I tried to sleep in the truck. I never got much sleep and by morning I felt much worse. I slept as much as I could on the ride back and upon returning to Monterrey I took a shower and went to sleep. I woke-up just in time fore Alvaro's birthday celebration. We had cake, talked for a few hours and then I went back to bed. ¶ 7:04 PM 0 comments
At just shy of 6am I arrive in Monterrey after 12 sleepless hours on a bus. When Alvaro comes to pick me up he says: "Hey men, vamos a Real de Catorce." So about 8 hours later, of which maybe I slept 2, I am again on the road, heading south to the state of San Luis Potosi and the old mining town of Real de Catorce.
Sure I have always thought going to visit San Luis Potosi would be nice, the same way I feel about, say, Arizona. A cool place, sure, but never a specific goal of mine.
The magnificent mountain landscapes I had hoped to see between Monterrey and Guadalajara had been disappointing but along the way to Real de Catorce I saw the type of scenery I had been hoping to see. So, right away the trip was well worth it.
* * *
The Trip
We arrived to Real de Catorce with the intention of camping, but it was already late. Only shortly before leaving were we warned about the cold. The altitude of Real is about 3000 meters. Strong cold winds blow throughout the night.
After we got situated in the Hotel San Juan (Us$10 per person) we went to eat at a taco stand. At 20 pesos (2 dollars) you could either enjoy the platter of 5 tacos or 5 enchiladas. Enchiladas por favor!
Despite that fact that my digestive system was in a mess wither from eating pork and/or an excess of spicy food, I sauced up my enchiladas with some delicious green chile sauce. By the fourth enchilada I was ready to pay the price so I want to the hotel to use the sanitary facilities.
We all ended up in a hip(pie) type bar to have a Few beers. Still tired from the previous night's journey I retired just before everyone set off to the old bullfighting ring to sing and enjoy the night.
Everyone is:
Me: El Gringo
Alvaro: Padrino, a great old friend
Guns: Your typical regio bad-ass
Casasa: The self-styled leader
Chino: El Ranger, an adventurous guy
Fernando: a very friendly fellow
Slow: sort of a hippie type guy
The next day Padrino woke us up to go to the desert. We set out on a stone road that wound its way down into the valley. About 1/4 of the way down we came across a jeep and a driver and we decided to pay him for a ride. Myself and a few others rode on top of the vehicle. This gave us a beautiful view and also a sense of danger. We were repeatedly hit by tree branches and a poorly timed stop could have sent us flying over the side of a cliff. I made this comment: "La proximidad a la muerte hace que todo parece mas hermoso. (Being this close to death makes everything seem more beautiful.)
Along the mountainside we came across little villages. It was hard for me to comprehend their existence. How do people live in such places?
In the desert we took part in an ancient native ritual.
The day had been ideal and from that point until nightfall a feeling of euphoria ran through my blood. I visited the local market where a variety of things such as locally made crafts,cheezy souvenirs, traditional Mexican sweets and Chinese-made toys were being sold. I bought a gorra knit-cap, which I believe is traditionally Peruvian and so not typically something of the region but I have always wanted on and it was cheap ($5) and it would be functional at night. Something else I got from the market was the chance to hear indigenous people speaking their native tongue to each other, an opportunity that I never had before in Mexico.
We set up camp in the old bull-fighting ring on the side of the mountain under the view of a church dedicated to the Virgin of Guadalupe and St. Francis of Assisi. The hippie-type people were already congregating and playing their drums.
After some effort we constructed the tent. Then we got the fire going and put the grill on to cook some sausages and carne asada. Night came and brought with it the cold and the wind. I commented: "Todo esta con madre y a la vez a la verga." - "Everything is really good and at the sametime really bad." (In the typically vulgar Monterrey venacular.)
Soon that balance broke down and fell over to the negative side. The wind took our tent to task, first pulling it out of its supports, then after we tried to reinforce it, one of the support poles broke. We discussed abandoning the campsite and even heading for Monterrey that night. With the tent broken and fearing even more damage we had to put it away.
So we were without a place to sleep, but we had convinced ourselves that it wasn't worth the pena to return to Monterrey at that point. Our financial situation left us with just enough money to get back the next day. Another night in a hotel was not an option. At that point either the stress of the situation, the smoke of the fire, the poor diet of the last few days, the thin mountain air or a combination of these factors had me feeling terrible and I tried to sleep in the truck. I never got much sleep and by morning I felt much worse. I slept as much as I could on the ride back and upon returning to Monterrey I took a shower and went to sleep. I woke-up just in time fore Alvaro's birthday celebration. We had cake, talked for a few hours and then I went back to bed. ¶ 7:04 PM 0 comments
La Terminal
For the first time ever while travelling I actually saw a movie I wanted to see. Ever since I first heard about "The Terminal" I have wanted to see it. Thankfully it was not dubbed.
The experience of the protagonist really made me forget my own travel anxiety. Heck, I am in a country not far from home where I speak the language.
Police looking for bribes, soldiers all over the place and teh ahrdships I have faced have made me uncomfortable but otherwise I am doing fine. At the time I first visited Mexico I usually felt like an outsider even in my own country, Now I have generally a lot more confidence but that means that the actual un-easiness of being a foreigner is more appearent.
I have made progess in feeling comfortable in my own skin in my native country- but it will only go so far- I still don't have exactly the same values and desires that make up the modern USAmerican character even though at my own roots and at the routs of the US of America I am eternally connected to my country. If I find myself living in one place or another will I ever grow into that place and belong? When my skin is what most makes me stand-out will I ever be comfortable in it? ¶ 6:33 PM 0 comments
The experience of the protagonist really made me forget my own travel anxiety. Heck, I am in a country not far from home where I speak the language.
Police looking for bribes, soldiers all over the place and teh ahrdships I have faced have made me uncomfortable but otherwise I am doing fine. At the time I first visited Mexico I usually felt like an outsider even in my own country, Now I have generally a lot more confidence but that means that the actual un-easiness of being a foreigner is more appearent.
I have made progess in feeling comfortable in my own skin in my native country- but it will only go so far- I still don't have exactly the same values and desires that make up the modern USAmerican character even though at my own roots and at the routs of the US of America I am eternally connected to my country. If I find myself living in one place or another will I ever grow into that place and belong? When my skin is what most makes me stand-out will I ever be comfortable in it? ¶ 6:33 PM 0 comments
Guadalajara a Monterrey
5:24 07/25 Central de Autobuses - Guadalajara
The bus I am taking goes all the way to the border city of Matamoros. It's safe to assume that at least someone on this bus is planning to cross the border illegally into the United States.
I met a lot of people in Guadalajara and when I told them I was from Dallas they would eitehr remark "I have relatives living there" (probably trying to earn dollars) or they would say " I love the malls there!" In that you see the class division that exists in Mexico. One group has no better option than to travel over 1000 miles from their home to occupy the lowest socio-econommic position in a foreign country. The other class has teh liberty to leave a world where they are among the few who have the ability to shop in the plazas with stores like Liverpool and Sanborn's to go a world away to shop in slightly nicer malls with slightly nicer stores.
The frustrating thing about Mexico is that Mexican society has shown itself to be capable of developing tot he higest levels, but it's not able and/or willing to provide access to that developement to all of it's citizens.
In the US many people who work in a place like Wal-mart are among the poorest people in the country. Wal-mart is the biggest employer in Mexico, but while their employees are usually still considered poor, they are much better off than a significant part of the population.
The question is will more Wal-Mart type business help Mexico or hurt it. If more poor people have a chance to earn improved wages will that lift up the economy? Or will improving access to the university education and removing the bureacratic chains on business allow some of today's Wal-mart level employees to move on to have better, more productive jobs allowing the underclass to move into those working class positions? ¶ 5:46 PM 0 comments
The bus I am taking goes all the way to the border city of Matamoros. It's safe to assume that at least someone on this bus is planning to cross the border illegally into the United States.
I met a lot of people in Guadalajara and when I told them I was from Dallas they would eitehr remark "I have relatives living there" (probably trying to earn dollars) or they would say " I love the malls there!" In that you see the class division that exists in Mexico. One group has no better option than to travel over 1000 miles from their home to occupy the lowest socio-econommic position in a foreign country. The other class has teh liberty to leave a world where they are among the few who have the ability to shop in the plazas with stores like Liverpool and Sanborn's to go a world away to shop in slightly nicer malls with slightly nicer stores.
The frustrating thing about Mexico is that Mexican society has shown itself to be capable of developing tot he higest levels, but it's not able and/or willing to provide access to that developement to all of it's citizens.
In the US many people who work in a place like Wal-mart are among the poorest people in the country. Wal-mart is the biggest employer in Mexico, but while their employees are usually still considered poor, they are much better off than a significant part of the population.
The question is will more Wal-Mart type business help Mexico or hurt it. If more poor people have a chance to earn improved wages will that lift up the economy? Or will improving access to the university education and removing the bureacratic chains on business allow some of today's Wal-mart level employees to move on to have better, more productive jobs allowing the underclass to move into those working class positions? ¶ 5:46 PM 0 comments
