La Costa

Again, need I say more?  But of course I need to give a little background...

Last year when I was in Ecuador I took the last week to travel to El Oriente, or into the edge of the Amazon jungle in the east. This year I decided to head west for La Costa. My plans were up in the air until the last minute. I was supposed to do la costa trip with some of the fellas here, but scheduling ended up not working out for enough people at the same time. But this was my last weekend here in Ecuador so I was determined to make it happen. Eduardo wasn’t feeling up to heading out to the beach and got kind of sick on Thursday, so I made last minute plans with some of the girls from my Spanish school to head to Puerto Lopez, which is around a ten hour bus trip to the coast in the west.

After calling the bus station Thursday afternoon to reserve a seat I found out there was only one spot left and they couldn’t reserve it over the phone. I rushed downtown to the bus station to pick up the ticket and luckily I got it. Unluckily, after hanging out with the kids at Remar and being hyped for Puerto Lopez I returned home to find a note from Edu telling me to pack my things for la playa (the beach). He had apparently made some type of other plans for me to head to la costa and then had gone to el Parque de la Carolina. I packed my things and met him at la Carolina to figure out what was going on and what I was going to do.

When I got to la Carolina, Edu explained what was going on. Knowing how much I wanted to go to the coast, he had set up for me to go to la costa at Atacames with his sister and her friends. A few hours earlier I had no plans, now I had two separate bus tickets to the coast (Edu had set up the bus with his sister for me). Atacames is on the northern coast of Ecuador, and was a six hour trip, and is were many local Ecuatorianos go for vacation when going to la costa. I had a tough decision to make, but decided to eat the ticket to Puerto Lopez and head out to Atacames with Edu’s sister, Liz, and her friends.

Now I’m sure the Puerto Lopez trip would have been fun, so no disrespect to my North American friends who took that route and so courteously invited me. However, from the beginning of the Atacames trip I knew I had made the right decision. I met up with Liz at la Carolina and we took a city bus to her place before meeting up with her friends. Sidenote: I love that we were running late but since everyone runs late here we were on time and even a bit early for meeting up with people and catching the bus.

While waiting for the bus, I was introduced to several new groups of people right off the bat. Liz’s friends, Amanda, Sandra, and Malena. Amanda and Sandra’s brother, Walter (or Spark, his MC name) and his friends. Sandra’s daughter, Daisy and her friends from school (and their friends too). The final group were friends of Malena’s husband, Diego, who was our bus driver along with Christian, who also drove (when I asked Christian if driving a bus was hard, he shrugged and said that it was actually pretty easy). Basically, the short part of the story here is that I met tons of new people who I’ll refrain from trying to name all right now.

Before catching the bus, I had picked up some Chifa or Chinese food (chaulafan) along with other snacks (including my beloved chifles dulces) and my new friends quickly introduced me to Norteño (I had heard much about this low-cost alcoholic beverage and all the rumors were true). We picked up the bus around 9pm and drove through Thursday night, but there was little sleep cause this bus had a sound system that did not go to waste. The interior of the bus was also properly lit with red lights and some of the speakers even lit up when the bass hit. I’m telling no lie when I say that this bus was better prepared for par-tay than many of the regular house parties I’ve been to. There were also plenty of drinks, eats, and good beats for the passengers.

Upon arriving at the coast, we dropped off Walter and his friends, who split off from us. We got into Atacames around 5am that Friday morning, which put our trip at about 8 hours, but that’s only cause we took about a half-dozen pit stops to grab more drinks, snackage, and bathroom. I think Amanda bargained for us to get an $8 per person hotel, which I later found out covered the next day and a half that we were there. I think Amanda asked me how I would like sharing a room with 5 people, with everyone else being female. I said, no problem, I just wanted to sleep. So when we got in the place I grabbed a top bunk and crashed until people started trying to wake me up at 8am the next morning (this was not happening). I went back to bed, but Daisy woke me up some time in between 9 and 10am I think and said you got 5 minutes to get ready, apurate. Fair enough. I threw my contacts in, shaved, and was ready to go check out the beach.

After walking the beach, checking out the beautiful ocean, and meeting up with Liz, Amanda, and Sandra, we headed back to the hotel. I had camarones con arroz y platanos (shrimp with rice and friend bananas) with juice for breakfast. Total cost = $2. I could tell I was going to like Atacames.

I could go on and write more, but I’ll try to wrap this up without writing a book. Again, I think the pictures tell the story better than I can describe here anyway. Swimming in the Pacific, nice. If I hadn’t lost my glasses to the sandy undercurrent I would say that I prefer the Pacific over the Atlantic (the Gulf of Mexico waters were fresh several weeks back). Really I just feel blessed to have hit up two oceans in one summer.

As you can see, I spent most of this trip relaxing (sleeping in hammocks on the beach is great). However, there was more partying that Friday night. We went to these bars on the beach with music and dancing. Drinks were cheap and eats were delicious. I had a huge hamburger I think sometime around three. We caught these motorcycle cabs back to the hotel around 3 or 4am, but there was more music on the beach right outside our hotel on the beach. I was through dancing though and fell out in one of the hammocks.

When I woke up and saw that others had passed out in less comfortable places I decided to call it a night. The next morning we ate and I had shrimp again for breakfast. By this point, the cook had already figured out that I ate a lot and stacked my plate even higher for all of two dollars. Afterwards, we packed, took off, and picked up some of the other people on the bus. Those who got up later that morning went to go get a bite to eat. I picked up a papaya batido (shake). We again took off on the bus, about noon, but stopped an hour or so later at this small town, Tabiazo. Actually, when driving through the town the bus snapped a power line and the broken line fell in the bus through the sunroof. I hadn’t noticed at first and when I got out of my seat I almost touched the line. I would have had the second biggest shock of my life on this trip.

After taking care of the line, we took another road to the Rio Tabiazo, where people were bathing, washing clothes, and upstream many were just chillaxing in the waters. This lat place was where we headed and spent the next couple of hours just chilling in the fresh water. I needed this cause I hadn’t really bathed in two days and the salty ocean water had made me a bit sticky. Oh, I didn’t really mention before that the $8 per person hotel room had sporadic water supply and came with pretty much zero amenities. Though this really didn’t matter cause all I needed was a place to crash at night. Actually, you hardly even needed that. A group of Daisy’s friends camped out on the beach.

After enjoying the river waters for a spell, we changed and got back in the bus. Again, we stopped pretty regularly for bathroom, snack breaks, and once to eat dinner. There was a more chill atmosphere in the bus on the trip back and less partying (thank God, cause I was spent). I got back to the Edu’s around 10pm that Saturday night and watched some movies while looking over pictures I had taken. Edu was out partying, but like clockwork he woke me up a little after 8:30am Sunday morning and said it was time to go play ball. (Sidenote: Edu spent all of two days retired from ball by the way). After several hours in the park I was once again through. Though today we got some encebollados (like a gumbo soup) in the park before heading back to the crib. And of course I had to grab me some Bon Ice before catching a bus home.

Today Edu told me that my despedido (going away party) would be this upcoming Tuesday night. I asked him if I should cancel my last day of Spanish classes that I have scheduled for Wednesday. He said yes and added that there was only one goal for Tuesday night and that this would probably prohibit me from being able to attend any class Wednesday. Next blog: Mi Despidido

Saturday, It's a Saturday

Ok, I’m going to try and keep this short, even though yesterday was a long day. A little more than the average Saturday, but I did more of the same things I’ve been doing while in Ecuador: play basketball, eat, and hang out with friends.

The day started as usual with Eduardo and me going to El Parque de la Carolina to play basketball at 10am. We usually spend around 4 hours playing ball each day on the weekend. The outdoor ball is killing my ankles and knees with the hard concrete, but it feels good to be out there dunking on the fast break or nailing el triple to cap the game.

I usually don’t bring the camera to the park cause people will run off with your stuff if you’re not watching it. The park is safe during the day though, although you might get punked at night if you’re traveling solo. Last Thursday night we heard gunshots across the street from the courts as a bank seemed to be getting robbed. No one stopped playing and we went on to win the next game.

On the weekends we run games to 30, 40, and 50 or more points. It really all depends on who’s waiting and how close the games are. You always have to win by at least two points and when it’s close and competitive between the two teams were just tack on another 10 points to win the game, as we decide on the spot to just play for another 10.

Playing ball in the hot sun for 3 or 4 hours takes it’s toll on the body and that’s why we buy drinks or “Bon Ice” after we're done playing (I think we used to call these things “Freezies” when I was little kid back in the day). For ten cents you can enjoy a piece of heaven with a little frozen kool-aid encased in plastic. Rojo (red) is the best flavor in my opinion, while others prefer orange or green (like Edu).

After the games on this particular day, Fabricio was kind enough to come back to the crib and cook fritada (a kind of dish prepared with beef, onion, and other spices) for Eduardo, Javier, and me. After the game we stopped at Supermaxi to pick up the groceries, caught a cab back to our place, and a couple hours later at around 5pm we were enjoying a great meal. Fabricio took care of the main dishes (fritada and ensalada) and everyone else pitched in a bit, with Javier preparing the rice, Edu making naranjilla smoothies, and me handling the jugo especial for afterwards (basically screwdrivers).

I ate, ate, and ate some more. After finishing my plate I took care of the rest of Fabricio and Javier’s food. And it was good. We enjoyed my jugo especial afterwards as we brought out the cards. Javier did some magic tricks (some of which I’m still trying to figure out) and then we played some other card games. Unfortunately, I had to leave as I had plans for dinner with the family I stayed with when I was first here in Quito in 2007. Señora Graciela Dávila hosted me last summer in her home and has had me over a couple times for dinner this summer. I pretty much met her entire family at the celebration of her mother’s 80th birthday last year, so I know he brothers and sisters, nieces, etc.

Graciela’s niece, Christina, invited me over for lasagna Saturday night, along with two girls who are staying with Graciela this summer (Catherine & Laura). Christina’s parents, her nephew, and one of her best friends, Adriana, were also there. I was at Christina’s place by 8pm another great meal and conversation, but afterwards the night was still young.

Graciela was kind enough to give me a ride back to Edu’s place and at 11pm the fellas were still throwing down and having a great time. After getting caught up on the events of the past few hours that I had missed, I quickly got back in the mix as bartender. We repeatedly passed around the liberations in the trademark wineglass as we joked our way from Saturday night to Sunday morning. We listened to and watched Madonna in concert (we had actually been doing this since the afternoon - the fellas are Madonna fanatics). We also played more cards and took more pictures. We laughed, we cried, and Edu gave up basketball. This is a much longer story and there were much longer stories that I’m going to have to leave out here.

I remember going to bed around 4am and Edu trying to wake me up before 9am Sunday morning to go play more ball. Although Edu tricked me into thinking he was going to play, he just ended up just watching from the sidelines with Javier as I played ball with Fabricio and the other fellas from the park. After another 4 hours at the park I was and now am beat. I told Edu if he’s really retiring I may do the same while here in Ecuador. Will Edu leave the game he loves so much? I don’t think so, but we’ll find out this week.

¿Quién es Eduardo?

La pregunta es: ¿Quién es Eduardo? or in English: Who is Eduardo? Now that the question has been posed we shall provide part of the answer. Eduardo is the friend I met in the summer of 2007 in Quito on the basketball courts in El Parque de la Carolina. He, along with his then roommate, Cesar, invited me to come stay with them during my next visit here in Ecuador. I took them up on the offer and now I’m staying with Eduardo (Cesar is in now working in Spain).

Eduardo is a man of many names and many talents. Eduardo is actually his second name, his first is Abel, but he prefers Eduardo or Edu for short. Edu works as a computer programmer by day and baller by night (and the weekends). I know of few other people here in Ecuador that are as into basketball as Edu. First and foremost, the man’s got skillz, and yes that’s skillz with a “Z.” I mean, you know someone’s a baller when they have a backboard from the park and a pile of championship and MVP trophy medallions as decorative pieces in their living room.

He’s also got a basketball shoe collection that would make most shoe-philes in the US jealous and most of the time he’s playing outdoors (which is killer on your body as well as your shoes). I’m literally burning holes through the soles of the shoes I brought to play with out here (last summer I had two pairs fall apart on me). Despite a busy work schedule, Edu plays ball 4x a week and parties about the same number of nights a week.

While I’ve been resting up for the big B-day party, Edu has been coming home at 3, 4, 5, or 6am in the morning. And he’ll sleep for a couple hours and be ready to go ball by 8am. I’m still rolling around in the bed at this time on the weekends, and Edu will come in my room like “¿Listo para jugar?” Ready to play? I got 3 or 4 times more sleep than you Edu and you’re ready to play already? I tried to say I don’t play well before the afternoon, but I’ve gotten more used to it especially with my compañero pushing me out of bed in the morning.

Oh, so onto the B-day party. Edu and me are basically the same age. He just hit the big 3-0 and I’m about to in a few weeks. I’ll tell you though, we both live young. I think it’s the jugo especial we had the night of the party (or all the ball we play).

The night of the party the house had waves of people coming through to pay their respects to the birthday boy and the liberations were flowing for 10 hours straight! That’s right. Mas o menos we had started partying around 7pm and I think I went to bed around 5am. Not really sure though, but that’s another story, and there were many other details that I’ll have leave for another time (the pics I think speak to the kind of time we had). Bottom line is that we kept it movin from sundown to sunup. And that’s how Edu "do" on the regular.

Empanadas, Morocho, y Choques

Today I showed up to my Spanish class half an hour late, unshowered, and wearing the same clothes I played basketball in the night before. Usually, I play ball on the weekends (plus Tuesday and Thursday during the week if it’s night raining). Last night I didn’t play so well. Frank told me “Tu cuerpo está aquí, pero tu alma no está aquí” (Your body is here, but your soul isn’t here). He was right. After four hours of class in the morning and a couple hours at the foundation Remar with the kids I was tired. Playing streetball is tough on your body and mine needs to be nice and warmed up to be really into it and last night I just couldn’t get there.

After the game, I went with Edison, his wife Betti, and several other guys to get food in the Floresta (a part of Quito known for the street venders). We got some empanadas and morocho to drink. I’ve had empanadas before, but the morocho was a first. It’s a sweet milk based drink with corn and some other type of grain that I couldn’t quite make out, and it was good. I had three glasses of it along with four empanadas. As usual, I had to insist on putting in some money for the food. Still, Edison paid for most of my food and gave me some of his too.

Afterwards, we dropped some guys off in el centro historico, drove past the presidential palace (which was beautifully lit up at night), and headed south to the borough of Chillogallo, where Edison and Betti live. Chillogallo is a borough that’s clear off the tourist map. The only thing I’ve ever heard about this area is that it’s not the safest part of the city.

As we came up the hill to Edison’s house and turned into his street, all of a sudden we felt a big bang, as the truck we were riding was shaken. The car behind us had tried to quickly pass us as we were turning and hit us from behind. Edison hadn’t signaled and the car behind us hadn’t slowed down. Everyone in our truck was ok, including Betti, who I should mention here is four months pregnant. People stepped out of the car that hit us and came to Edison’s window yelling that it was his fault. Edison said excuse me sir, but you hit me.

Edison’s truck is pretty big. He uses it to deliver those big 20 liter water jugs that go in those purified water coolers (he delivers about 30-40 of them a day). The truck also has a massive rear bumper, which protected us, but smashed in the front of the other car like a tin can.

Edison didn’t want to argue the case when it was already approaching midnight and tried to drive off. The other guys weren’t having it and jumped in front of his truck. Edison slammed on the breaks and threw open the truck door, whistling loudly as he jumped out. I figured this was a call for backup for those who lived on the block and figured it was a good thing since one of the other guys had picked up a rather large rock at this point. Betti hopped out of the truck and went up the block. Now at this point, I’m looking pretty lame being the last one to get out of the truck behind a pregnant women.

I threw my hood up, stepped out of the truck, and walked around the front of the truck to get Edison’s back. By this time, the guys who hit us were threatening to call the police. Edison told them to go ahead, cause “quien choque, paga” (whoever hits, pays). As they called the police, Edison’s father and mother (Mr. and Mrs. Magro) showed up on the scene. At this point the arguing moved up the street to the house. Edison drove his truck up to put it in the driveway, but first his father had to move out his truck. I noticed that Mr. Magro pulled his truck out rather quickly and that it had a state insignia on the side.

One of the guys who hit us asked me if my father was in the military. Being a little confused, I responded that I didn’t know. How was I take for Mr. Magro’s son you ask? I made sure to throw my hood up before I jumped out of the truck to make sure that no one would see my hair. There are a number of things about me that give away that I’m not from around these parts, but I’ve learned that my hair is the biggest sign. The hoodie comes in handy at times and it worked here as I was taken for Edison’s brother. Only later did I figure out that federal military trump local police and that by pulling out his truck quickly, Mr. Magro was intentionally calling attention to his state truck and the fact that he worked for the feds. The other guys seemed to calm down a bit after these signs were understood.

When the police arrived on the scene there was more arguing and explaining of what had happened. To cut it short, even though Edison hadn’t signaled, the police decided it was more the other guy’s fault for trying to zoom past another car on a windy road going uphill.

At this point everything seemed to be good, so I thought. However, Edison still seemed a bit worried as the police got in their vehicle. I asked Betti what was going on cause I was clearly missing something with all the fast Spanish. She said that the police still had Edison’s documents. I saw some money come out and quickly figured out what was going on.

Edison paid off the cops and got his license and documents back from la policia (aka. los corruptos). He told me, “Soy pilas” (I am batteries)... ?? I didn’t get it. He later explained “Soy pilas” is when someone is really smart or intelligent. I think it must be the equivalent of something like “I’m bright” in English. The way Edison handled the situation definitely proved the fact.

So it was a bit of a late night, but I got set up with a bed to sleep in and Edison even gave me the shirt that I left at his house last summer to sleep in. The Magro family showed me hospitality like I was family. The next morning, I took my contacts out of the cup of water I had them in (no contact solution) and threw them in my mouth before putting them back in my eyes (this is a great trick when you don’t have contact solution).

I went onto the roof with Edison to feed the dogs and saw one of the views of a lifetime. Chillogallo is higher up in the mountains than the rest of Quito and we had a clear view of the surrounding city and the snow-capped Mt. Cotopaxi off in the eastern distance. I went back downstairs and had the best breakfast since I’ve been here. Pan con queso, huevos duros, y uvas (bread with cheese, hard boiled eggs, and grapes).

My first trip to Chillogallo was unforgettable in many ways, and definitely worth being half an hour late to class today.

No Soy Gringo

This week I have another new maestra (teacher), Rocío, and I really like her teaching style. We have discussion most of the time (for about the first 3 hours) and then she breaks down some grammar for me during the last hour. In our conversation today the history behind the word “gringo” came up. I don’t use it much, because of the negative connotations behind it, though I’ve heard the word on several occasions and have been referred to as such in various places.

Well, the etymology of the word is actually English, not Spanish, a combination of the words “green” and “go.” Supposedly it was first used in Panamá, perhaps around the time of the Panama Canal period or sometime after its construction when U.S. troops where stationed in and around Panama City. Local Panamanians would chant at the U.S. troops - who wore green fatigues - to go home. The chant “Green-Go” became “Gringo.” I guess the U.S. troops wouldn’t have understood “Verde Va.”

Anyway, the catch phrase/word spread and today in certain Latin American countries it has more of a negative stigma attached to it than in some others. For example, in Panamá, it is really meant as a slur (this perhaps sheds some more light on some of my experience in Panama City). In Ecuador, the term is more of a label and not so much meant to cut someone down. La Mariscal for example is nicknamed “Gringolandia” (haven’t been to that part of town once yet this trip).

To wrap up, I’ve heard the word a few times on the basketball court and in other places. I’ve also been referred to as “white boy” in the states when playing ball, though I’ve gotten the opposite of that at times too if people want to associate my skills with my “darker” ancestry. Though I can’t stand any of these labels, there’s partial truth in all of them.

This weekend when playing ball in Quito, some people said that they thought I was Brazilian or Argentinean. I guess when you spend 12 hours of the weekend playing ball and hanging out with folks in el Parque de la Carolina (the biggest park in the city), people here don’t really associate that with how most “gringos” like to spend their time. Funny thing is, I was glad when I was (mis)taken for being from South America.

In the end, people may try to label me how they want, but I refuse to fit myself into their boxes and let them constrain me. As Audre Lorde said:

“If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies and eaten alive.”

Mi Casa Nueva

Well, living in Ecuador is a new experience, even more so than the first time I visited here a year ago. The main reason is that this time I’m living with my friend Eduardo (and his dog, Rocco). Last year before I left Quito, Eduardo and his roommate Cesar, invited me to come and stay with them next time around. I decided to take them up on the offer and it turned out that Cesar took a job in Spain a few months ago so there’s an extra room for me to stay in.

Staying here instead of with a host family in the area (like I did last summer) gives me a greater sense of independence and really makes it feel like I’m living here in Quito instead of just visiting on a vacation. I mean, when I come home I gotta walk Rocco or the poor guy craps all over the floor.

I’m already going to school here (4 hours of Spanish class each morning) and I just got a job today (well, it’s volunteer work for this foundation called Remar). I’m doing a lot of work here, so this definitely isn’t a party trip like Jamaica or Veracruz (ok, Veracruz was school too, but college is just a time to party anyway). However, during this trip I’m really just having a good time taking it day by day.

This second time around here in Quito is certainly a different type of trip than Veracruz was before this.  I'm reaching a new level of comfortability here in South America. I mean, I hardly even think about having to drink purified bottled water all the time, living without a refrigerator in the apartment, or having to take cold showers. Well, there are two wires that go into the shower head to heat up the water right before it comes out, but the higher you have the pressure for the water to come out, the less heated the water is (cause the water is passing through the shower head faster and the wires don’t have time to heat it up). I opt to go for less pressured showers with more heat, which leaves me a bit cold anyway cause not much water comes out. The shower head is also a bit low and I have to hunch a bit so my head doesn’t hit it. At first I was a bit fearful that if I touched the electrified shower head or got too close to the wires I would get the shock of my life (being so wet and all), but I’ve gotten over this and figure it’s gotta be safe enough.

I'm not complaining though, really I’m just listing some things that make it a little bit different living here in Quito.  My dad seems to think I’m living in a shack taking “monkey baths” or something, but really, for all the differences between here and the states, life is pretty much the same. It does depend on your usual standard of living of course, but this standard is pretty high comparatively speaking to some other I've had.

So basically, we live in a bachelor pad in the nicer part of town, so still lock it down like we were storing gold in here. I know there’s crime, I mean I’ve heard about the crime and maybe have seen some, but I think the security we have is real good. Definitely not worried about violent crime like in the states though. I’ve been told if you get robbed the muggers will leave you a quarter to get home on the bus. Yeah, the busses are only a quarter (but not painted as nicely as in Panamá).

Some people have asked me where the party at, but really this trip isn’t even about all that for me. It’s been more about doing the same things I’ve done before in the same place I’ve done them before. I’m spending time with old friends, though I’m making new ones too. However, my main goal is to hopefully get better at Spanish. Even though my progress is slow, as Granny would tell me: “You’re getting there.” Yeah, I am getting there and during this trip I don’t really need to see any more “great” sites for that. School, working with kids, playing ball, and spending time with friends is the basic equation. Same old thing.

...well, I'm still seeing a fair amount of great sites. I mean, how many people can walk out their front door, turn the corner, and see the Andes Mountains in the clouds (I’ll get some pics posted of this when it’s sunny, cause these first ones were on a cloudy day).

¡La Liga Ganó!

Yeah, it’s past 2am, and this ain’t Veracruz, but I felt like I just partied like it was. La Liga Deportiva Universitaria, which is an equipo de fútbol (soccer team) here in Quito, just won the Copa Libertadores (Liberator’s Cup), and the city of Quito (and probably the whole country) is celebrating their first championship in the tournament. On top of that, La Liga’s final opponent was Fluminense of Río de Janeiro, Brazil. And as one of my teachers told me, “Brasil es fútbol” (Brazil is soccer), so it was a pretty big deal for an Ecuadorian team to beat Brazil.

I was actually supposed to go watch the game with Eduardo at his sister’s house, but he had to work late. I wasn’t feeling that great anyway (my body has had to adjust to the temperate climate here in the Andes), but I ended up catching the end of the game at a Chinese restaurant when I went out to eat. I figured I better watch the game even if I wasn’t feeling well since I could hear the people in the house next to us screaming like bloody murder (Fluminense had scored).

The game, sure enough, went down to penalties after two extra periods of neither team scoring. La Liga’s goalie, José Francisco Cevallos, became the hero of the night, blocking 3 penalty kicks and finally ending the game (La Liga had already made 3 of the 5, so it was over for Fluminense). Cevallos was immortalized that night. One of my teacher’s said that the federal government could give him a pension after he retires. If this still doesn’t give you an idea of how big fútbol is in Ecuador, then let me describe the scene that night.

Well, when the game was on, Quito looked like a ghost town. As you walked down the street, most of what you saw were people glued to TVs behind house windows and locked store gates. The only thing open pretty much were bars and the Chinese restaurant I came across, and even there the people inside were carefully focused on every play of the game. When Cevallos made the game winning block the whole city erupted. Everyone in the restaurant went directly to the door. The streets began to erupt with song, dance, cheers, and honking car horns. That was only the beginning.

At the restaurant I paid for my food after someone came back from the street to the register and then started walking home. Fireworks were already ringing out like gunshots throughout the city. Everyone you came across screamed “La Liga,” “Campeónes,” or something else to let you know that La Liga had won. Every car that passed was honking and people were intermediately dancing in the streets. When I got home, I could hear the neighbors going nuts, singing various championship songs.

I forgot to mention in this story that I locked my keys inside and couldn’t really get back in the house, so I was waiting for Eduardo to get back home and let me in. This becomes relevant now because as the neighbors came outside to party they saw me waiting and they asked me if I wanted to go with them instead of waiting for Eduardo. Mind you, I just met these neighbors (Roberto, his wife Gabriela, and her sister, Soledad), I had no idea where they were taking me, and I really didn’t do a very good job of asking where we were going. I just figured there was a bigger party about to jump off somewhere so I jumped in he car and off we went.

Turns out, we were going to the University of Quito, where La Liga was founded some years ago (I found out later La Liga is a professional team though, not a college team). The earlier ghost town was now alive with movement and sound. As we got closer to La Universidad de Quito the streets became flooded with people. We turned off on a side street, parked the car, and went by foot the rest of the way to the front gates of the University.

In the states a professional sports team that has just won a championship might have a city sanctioned parade a few days after the final game. This parade was a impromptu gathering formed by the people to celebrate their newly crowned national heroes. I was told that La Universidad de Quito was a public school attended by those that might not be able to afford a private school. The gathering seemed to include all different types of Ecuatorianos, though it still probably didn’t include the lowest classes, who didn’t have the means to even get to the celebration.

Funny thing I thought, upon arriving to the crowded front gates of the University, a lot of people seemed to be soaking wet. About the same time I noticed this, one of the guys in the group, Christián, starts stripping off his clothes and tells me to do the same. We were going to go jump in the fountain with everyone else. Now, this is not 90+ warm and sunny weather we’re talkin about here in South America. Quito is high up in the Andes mountains, so it’s cool if the sun ain’t out, and at this point it was around midnight.

Whatever. How was I gonna be in Quito the night La Liga won it’s first Copa Libertadores, and be standing right in front of the Universidad and not jump in the fountain? Off came my fleece and shirt, and into the crowd we went. When I say this place was packed, I mean we had to push our way through people just to get to the fountain... and there was hardly any space in this huge fountain to even get into it! We were only in the shallow part and the cold water flew as hundreds of people inside the fountain jumped up and down! After getting thoroughly soaked we squeezed our way out and met back up with the group.

After drink off a bit and getting my clothes back on, somebody handed me a beer and we drank, somehow here was also wine passed around too, as we sang songs, joked, laughed, and had a real chill time as everyone took in the championship. To be honest, at the beginning of the night when I was watching the game, I didn’t even know which team on the television was La Liga and which was Fluminense (I dared not ask anyone and just figured it out on my own). By the end of the night I was pumping my first screaming “¡Li-Li-Li Ga-Ga-Ga!” and singing “¡Campeón, Campeón!”

Yeah, Quito is a new trip, but I’m getting into it pretty quick.

A Day in Panamá

I am safe and sound in Quito, arriving last night (Monday). I had a nice day in Panamá (after getting stuck there cause the airline gave my seat away on my connecting flight to Quito, but they paid for shuttle, hotel, and 3 meals, so it was all good).  I'm kinda glad it was only a day though because you can tell the US has straight pimped the city for over a hundred years.

Panamá is really a creation of the US, which helped it break off from Columbia in 1903, but for most of its history its largely been shaped by the Panama Canal (which is US built, owned, and run).   Since the completion of the canal in 1914 it's been an army base and North American tourist magnet.   It doesn't seem like much gets built up in the city unless it's for extranjeros (foreigners) and the racial stratification is almost palpable. Even though it's on the Pacific Ocean side of country there's no beach to speak of (or at least I didn't see it).  The bay next to the city was miles of mudclumps getting bulldozed to probably put up a mall or another hotel (the picture below isn't even the worst view).

There were many nice people though. After I found out that my bank blocked my ATM card I had to make some calls (but had no money) and the front desk put through the call to my bank back in the states.  But even when I thought I got it straightened out the ATMs were still not giving it up. So I just decided to go to some museums and a nice girl named Evelyn at the hotel warned me that I might get robbed if I went to that part of the city just walking around. I told her I didn't have any money for them to rob me of and went anyway.  I nice doorman, Daniel, helped my with instructions to get on the bus (this was all in Spanish, so I'm already getting back into it).  I did, however, make one last attempt to get money from an ATM and it finally worked!  Good thing, cause I only had a ten on me), they´re on the "imperialist" dollar there too (same in Ecuador too).

Later, when I got out of the touristy spots of the city, I started to notice a different side of being a Norteamericano in Panamá. I must have been the only extranjero taking the city buses and one the youth on the bus tried to tell me not to take a certain bus that I knew I was supposed to take.  I got on the bus anyway and found my way to where I was going.  When I finally go to the Afro-Antillian Museum of Panama I had an experience that wasn't the best. After being told I could take pictures without flash I think one of the women at the front desk got upset that I was taking so many (the stuff was super interesting to me). Mind you, I never let the flash off even once by accident.  She tried to tell me the museum was closing and that I needed to leave, even though it was still 15-20 miutes before closing.  Now granted, my Spanish isn't all that great, but I tried to explain to her that I was a student who was genuinely interested in this material.  Still, I think I was perceived as just another tourist that wanted to take a bunch of pictures and for that reason it seemed she got somewhat upset with me.

I'm finding more and more that it's difficult to always cross barriers of pre-conceptions. I know I'm first percieved as a "white" or "gringo" extranjero de Norteamerica throughout the majority of Latin America.  It can be difficult to be accepted as an individual if I don't have time to explain myself, my interests, why I'm traveling, and that I understand the problems my country has caused in other countries.  The things that are important to me don't always represent what are important to many others from the United States.  Generally, most people who have thirty minutes with me tend to figure this out.  Now, I'm not rejecting that I deserved that treated in the musuem.  I mean, what I came to realize that day was I am still a tourist (despite my attempts to disassociate myself with being one - thoughts come to mind of the tourists in Mexico complaining that no one spoke English in the store they were shopping in).  The only difference between me and many other extranjeros has been my intent.  And let's be real, people can't see intent.

The afternoon in Panamá ended on a good note, and not just because I got a pair of shorts and two pairs of corduroys (another brown pair baby, yeah!) all for under $10!!  It's a good thing I waited to do clothes shopping after all. But the afternoon ended well because when I was walking down the busy, jumbled streets of Panama City (where you can hardly find a street sign to save your life), someone called out me. I turned around and it was Daniel from the hotel! We talked a bit, he was going to show me where to get the cheapest (and nicest) clothes, but I told him that I had to catch my bus to the airport. He gave me his info and told me to give him a call when I was back in the city. He wrote his name down as "Dany" because he said it was the "American" way to say it (his last name was Barrera). Daniel also gave me directions to take a city bus back to the hotel.

After almost missing my shuttle bus for the airport out of Panama City (you know how I like to cut things close, I had to get my last meal voucher filled, haha!) I was sweating bullets on the shuttle.  I checked my pockets and no passport or address book with Daniel's info or the info of my friends in Ecuador! I checked all my bags and nada! After getting out of the shuttle I went to my suitcase and took out the shorts I had been wearing that day (I had changed into jeans just before leaving the hotel, but thought I had switched everything from my pockets over to my jeans). The prayers on the shuttle bus and right before I checked the shorts worked.  God came through and after I unrolled the shorts the goods were there. I got on the flight fine this time and I'm now in Quito. I'll write the story of my first night and day here another time, but gotta jet now cause I got twelve minutes left in the internet cafe and need to post this.

Hasta Luego,
Aarón

Update: Grammatical errors corrected and pictures posted!  The best pics are definitely of the busses!

Last Days in Veracruz

Well, Veracruz is officially over (and by the way I’m post-dating this entry due to the whirlwind travel at the end that eventually got me to Ecuador). The last week was definitely a busy one. Mostly what kept me busy was the 25+ page paper I had to write for the class, but also some partying (not gonna try and lie there). All in moderation, right folks?

There is much I could say reflecting on Veracruz, but for the sake of this being a simple blog I will just say that it was nice to get the chance to do a study aboard program. I had always regretted not being able to do one as an undergrad in college and this program gave me the opportunity to have that experience. It was great getting the chance to travel with cool peoples for once instead of solo and learning as much as we did at the same time was an added benefit of the program.

I felt a real sense of loss as people departed during the final days, but it was nice that Gilbert, Vanessa, and I had at least one last day and night in Veracruz together. It sucked that I was still editing a draft of my paper, but I had to get a decent draft into Profe and wanted to get it done before getting to Ecuador (although I had to make some final correction in Quito before submitting another draft). I don’t wanna bore anyone with the details of the paper, but basically I traced out the path of slavery in Mexico and then went into the reasons why people of African descent are no longer recognized in Mexico today, even though the African population was for a time larger than the Spanish population during the early colonial period.

But back to the last Veracruz story. So Gilbert, Vanessa, and I had a nice chill last day and night. On Saturday we went to the Veracruz Aquarium, walked around the city, and partied a bit that night into Sunday morning. At the aquarium we saw fish, turtles, birds, lobsters, jellyfish, eels, stingrays, sharks, coral, etc. Basically, if you can find it in the ocean we saw it there behind the glass. We also had a good time joking around. We tried to get cheaper prices with a student discount (didn’t work), tried to get in other peoples pictures, and attempted to leave through the entrance (that didn’t work either). I also touched a baby stingray (probably not the smartest move), Vanessa got to touch a dead lobster shell (ouchiees!), and Gilbert got to reminisce about being back out in the wild blue sea with his underwater friends.

That night we gave each other mud facials, watched Björk videos on YouTube, and finished off most of the rest of the drinky-drinks that other folks had left behind (killed off Mr. Johnnie Walker too, that was some nasty stuff). I stayed up all night making sure my things were packed and also that I didn’t miss my morning flight. All in all, iIt was a good trip. A study abroad and vacation wrapped in one. Still, it was educational in more than just the scholastic sense and fun in more than just terms of partying and gettin down on the dance floor.

San Juan de Ulúa

Today we went to huge island fort of San Juan de Ulúa, established by colonial Spain off the coast of the port city of Veracruz during the 16th century. This place had big historical significance by helping shape Mexico or “New Spain” as it was called back in the day. I mean everything moved through this island fortress: various goods, raw materials like silver and gold, as well as prisoners and slaves.

Even though I have been to a number of places that slaves built or where they were held, you could definitely feel the evil that was carried out in this place. Maybe part of the reason for that was that we were allowed to enter the rooms where prisoners were held and got to see the holding cells and torture chambers. Our guide explained the different types of methods for torture carried out against people held there and they weren’t pretty. From what I got from the tour it seemed like torture was a pretty equal opportunity thing for the Spanish who ran the castle. African slaves, Indigenous rebels, and European prisoners caught up in war or the Spanish Inquisition all seemed to have been subjected to gruesome methods of physical pain.

Our guide said that San Juan de Ulúa was built with the labor of over 600 slaves, starting in 1565 with the constructions lasting over the next 200 years. When the slaves wouldn’t work, they were locked up in small rooms, crammed together where they could hardly move. They were only given water for up to a week at a time until they agreed to go back to work. At first I wondered why people would help build a fortress that resulted in supporting their own slavery, but just looking into one of the dungeon rooms pretty much explained where the motivation to work came from. I remember hearing that a shallow groove or small trench was carved in the floor of these holding cells for urine, excrement, and whatever other fluids would drain out of the room. Seing little things like this drainage ditch really hit me with how much you can study these things and really still have no idea what they were actually like. Even a 45 minute tour of this castle couldn’t tell me.

We moved through the tour pretty fast because we only had bout an hour before the boat that had brought us over was coming to bring us back to the mainland. It was tough to really reflect on being in a place like this in such a short amount of time, so I just tried to listen to as much of the tour guide as possible as I took pictures. Looking back over which photos to post online my friend Vanessa said that I wasn’t really smiling in any of them. I said I didn’t feeling like smiling at this place, but I did notice that by the end of the tour, when we were out of the castle and about to leave, I was able to joke around with people again and even take a few “fun” pictures with the fortress in the background.

Quiahuiztlán, Cempoala, & Antigua

Today we went to several historical sites, not only of interest concerning Mexico, but for all of the Americas in general. Our first stop was Quiahuiztlán, which is a sacred site of the Totonac people, who were overtaken by the Aztec in the mid-1400s (several decades before Spanish conquistadores came on the scene). Interestingly, the Totonac actually helped Cortés defeat the Aztec because the groups were enemies. But I digress, back to the story of Quiahuiztlán.

Quiahuiztlán is a place where the Totonac buried the remains of their elite rulers. I didn’t take any pictures of these burial sites out of respect for those interred there (only priests and other high officials were even allowed to go up into this area).  Still, I walked too close to the remains of a burial tomb and tripped on the corner of it. My Dwayne Wade converse were scratched, but that’s what you get trying to walk too close to burial sites.

The mountain which stood above this area was the place where Totonac priests preached from (their voices carried down to the people below). The mountain top also served as a lookout point and supposedly the call was given out in 1519 when ten Spanish ships headed by Hernando Cortés were spotted off of the coastline.

Our next stop was Cempoala, a Totonac training group for warriors. There were a number of monuments and pyramids there, including a training circle where I valiantly fought my friend Dulce and defended my honor.
: O D

Hernando Cortés didn’t set up shop in Quiahuiztlán or Cempoala (I don’t think he bothered too much with Cempoala because it wasn’t really in use by the sixteenth century). Instead, Cortés moved to the first Veracruz, what is now called Antigua. Here, the first Christian church was built on the mainland of the Americas. We got to see this church and the house of Cortés. They were right next to each other and I had mixed feelings about both of them. I mean, when thinking about Cortés’ motivation for coming to the Americas, it's clear that little of it had to do with the teachings of Jesus Christ. And most, if not all, of the buildings we see on these trips were built with the hands of forced labor.

After Cortés had left the area, the indigenous inhabitants were going to tear down Cortés’ house, but amazingly a huge tree had grown there with it’s rooted woven throughout the walls, which kept some of them standing. The people there read this as a sign and understood the tree as being sacred. Instead over tearing down the house of Cortés, they left it standing.

The people were right, this place is definitely both sacred and symbolic.

As we walked across a small bridge, where we could see down the river Cortés sailed down and docked his ships roughly 500 years ago, I was down-heartened. I’m good at dealing with tough stuff through laughter and joking, and that’s what I do most of the time on this trip. A lot of this stuff is heavy. You walk around, take a picture of a historic site where a thousand, ten-thousand, or perhaps more people died... and then you move on.

How does any of this connect today? What do we learn by making those connections? Who do we blame for these atrocities? What will blame help accomplish anyway? And how do we deal with our blended heritage that comes from the three corners of the globe? A bigger blog would be needed to answer all this.

Mandinga

After class today we went to Mandinga, which is a little coastal inlet / lake area just South of Veracruz. Today in Mandinga we had some great seafood, then took a boat ride around some of the islands in the area. I guess this place was where rivers meets the ocean there was a mix of freshwater with the sea. We saw a jellyfish, that our boat operator tried to pick up out of the water with his bare hands! We also saw some other wide life too, fish, crabs, and a variety of birds. This included an island where a ton of these birds were nesting and hatching their young.

Special Note: The Mandinka, who are an ethnic group located in West Africa, were sold into slavery in large numbers during the early colonial period.  Many of these slaves are believed to have landed in the port of Veracruz, Mexico.  The linguistic similarity of "Mandinka" to "Mandinga" is obvious and we can see the historical link of West African slaves being brought to this area of Mexico supports this as well.

Happy Father's Day!

Dear Dad,
I don’t think they celebrate Father’s Day as much here in Mexico, or at least it’s not as big as in the US. Can I use this as an excuse for why I’m not calling you to wish you a Happy Father’s Day? Really, I only call you when I’m in the states on the weekends to save your dime, so you think I’m gonna spend 30 pesos a minute here when I’m paying the cost to be the boss? You know I’m cheap, but where do you think I get that from? From you Dad, and I love you for it.

ps. I’m also really forgetful (or not paying close attention half the time) and I honestly forgot that it was even Father’s Day until this girl I was hanging out with mentioned it. I thought about you for a few seconds before she grabbed back my attention. Then I quickly lost focus on anything that didn’t pertain to what I was doing with her. Again, in my defense I can only point out that I am my father’s son, molded and shaped in his own ways. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you Dad or that I’m not thinking about you.

Happy Father’s Day!

Yanga and Mataclara

We went to town of Yanga today with Dr. Sagrario Cruz-Carretera, an expert anthropologist and historian here in Mexico. Needless to say, we got a lot of history in a short amount of time. I was late getting up and had to rush to catch the bus at 8am (though I wasn’t the only late one). We all slept on the bus ride to Yanga. The town is named after the African slave who fought the Spanish in the late 1500s along with other runaway slaves. They lived up in the mountains and their guerilla tactics repeatedly frustrated the Spanish. The Africans eventually won free status and recognition after years of fighting because the Spanish crown basically couldn’t stop them.

I got the chance to ask some other questions about slavery and got some really good answers from Professora Carratera. We also stopped at a small museo in this place called Palmillas (which I think might actually be a part of Yanga). Though not many people of direct African descent live in Yanga today, we visited another town called Mataclara, where people can be more clearly identified as being of African descent and in the past few decades have come to recognize their African roots. Florentino Virgen, a local leader at Mataclara, spoke with us about the town and gave us some insight into the the Afro-Mexicano experience. For hundreds of years many Mexicans of African descent deny their African slave past and give numerous other explanations for their dark skin or West African features. However, Florentino commented that “Negro no es un pecado” (Black is not a sin). This comment really struck me, as did much of what he had to say about reclaiming an African past, the closeness of the community, and labor issues.

Another thing I’m learning more about world labor systems, especially as they concern immigration and remittances (money made by immigrants in a foreign country that is sent back to their home country / communities). NAFTA policies passed in 1994 really affected this area by destroying prices of locally produced sugarcane. It got to the point where syrup was imported into Mexico because it was cheaper than domestic sugarcane. Men were forced to leave their families to find work an in other towns and many went to the US. The township of Mataclara was so close-knit that the men who had immigrated to the US sent back money (remittances) to family and has been used by the community to do things like build roads in the town. What a trip! I didn’t realize the extent to which international policy can so directly and substantially affect people on the ground materially. The “boarder problem” in the US was created by our crappy policies in the US. Go to Mexico and ask somebody.

Brush the Dirt Off

Well, we’ve had a long week, spending most of it at the conference: “Diaspora, Nation, & Difference: Populations of African Descent in Mexico and Central America.” We’ve been really busy with attending hours of panels and doing work for class while we’ve also had to figure out a new city. It takes a few days to get situated to where the best places to eat are at, where to do laundry, and of course where to party. All of Veracruz seems like one big party at times. Often times there’s more going on at 12am than at 12-noon.

My Spanish is coming back, slowly of course, but then again it was never excellent and I’m still trying to work on it. The problem is that I’m speaking too much English right now (that problem will be fixed as soon as I get to Ecuador, where there won’t be many people to speak English with where I’ll be staying). Anyway, most of the conference was presented in Spanish and I didn’t get the translator headphones so I didn’t catch everything. Just listening in Spanish forced me to pay closer attention and try to translate things myself. I understood enough between the English presentations and the Spanish ones with slides though (when I can see words in Spanish now I usually do pretty well with translating).

Mexico (and Latin America in general) is still dealing with how to move beyond its colonial past concerning race and racism. While in many ways, most people in Mexico are accepted as being mestizo, or “mixed,” this definition is extremely complicated, especially when taking into consideration people of African descent. The discussion of titles, self-identification, and colonial terminology repeatedly came up and was one of the more interesting discussions. Whether “Afro” or “negro” should be embraced or rejected by Latin Americans of African descent is definitely an issue that strikes close to home for me. It became heated at times as some people argued vehemently that they were “black” first (e.g. Afro-Cubano, Afro-Mexcicano, etc.), while others took the stance that they identified most closely with their national identity (e.g. Cuban, Mexican, etc.).

Oh, we also experienced some pretty strong elitism as our group got kicked out the closing conference reception tonight cause we weren’t “guest speakers.” We were all dressed up and already sitting at one of the big round tables about to get our free-eat on and were rudely told to leave. It was cool though, our group went to get some drinks (I grabbed a couple 26 peso tortas - cheap & good!), and then we went out and partied tillat this place with a stage right in the middle of the club with the band playing. They Dj spun reggaeton and electronica in between the band’s sets and we danced until almost 4am. Brush the dirt off your shoulder and keep it movin.

From Xalapa to the City of Veracruz

Yesterday we left Xalapa for the city of Veracruz for the second stint of our five week trip (check the map at the bottom to see locations). We stopped at a few places along the route, including El Lencero, which was a hacienda, or large estate, of General Antonio López de Santa Anna. Santa Anna was the general who won the Battle of the Alamo in 1836, and was also President of Mexico on and off over the span of 15 years from 1833-1847. El Lencero definitely was a nice place, including all the amenities of the 19th century. If they had MTV cribs back 150 years ago this place would definitely have been showcased. I mean, how many people do you know who build their own church next to their mansion?

The port city of Veracruz is definitely a bit more lively than Xalapa (even though the public square in the picture at left was almost empty during midday, it was jumping with people Saturday at midnight). The food and atmosphere are somewhat touristy, and the city has a strong Caribbean vibe to it. The music, architecture, and people remind me more of Havana, Cuba than other places I’ve been in Mexico. This just goes to show that Mexico is a diverse place, with many different cultural influences.

El Tajín

This blog won’t take all the pictures I want to post so I’ve uploaded the hottest pics through Google’s Picasa. Just click on any picture to go directly to the album or you can download the pics in full resolution here:

http://picasaweb.google.com/dubbelish/
Yesterday we took a 4 hour bus ride to the ancient Totonac city of Tajín. El Tajín (Place of Thunder) is a city that contains a number of pyramids and other stone structures. The immense monuments are over a thousand years old and you could definitely tell building them was labor intensive, requiring a massive amount of human power to move and position thousands of tons of rock. None of us could even imagine having to move stone in that kind of heat! I was sweating like a dog just walking around.

Of particular interest were the courts, where the ancient mesoamerican ball game was played. I think our guide said there were 17 ball courts there of various sizes. The object of the game was to bounce a rubber ball (weighing almost ten pounds) through a circular goal using only your hips! Another interesting thing about this game was that the winner was ceremoniously sacrificed, which was considered a great honor in Totonac culture. There were some pictures of these players and a representation of one of these sacrifices carved into some of the stones there. Another beautiful carving also included the god Quetzecoatl (all these pics described above are in the photo album).

Hot Springs/Aguas Calientes

After class today (which included a lecture on the African slave trade to Mexico - some really interesting stuff) a bunch of us went to some natural hot springs to rest those weary bones. The sulfur rich waters were hot and soothing, but smell a bit like rotten eggs (though you don’t really notice it after a few minutes). My body hasn’t been this relaxed since winter break when I was vegging out with family and friends.

On a side note: Obama clinched the Democratic nomination today!

¡Sí se puede!

Need I Say More?

The beach was great yesterday and though I think the picture speaks for itself, I'll write a bit more (and yes, that is freshly cut coconut in my hand).

Swimming in El Gulfo de México was excellent (and salty). I don’t think I’ll ever get over how much fun playing around in the ocean is. You can slide under the waves as they come, jump right into them, or ride the top of a wave if you time it just right and swim with the current of the wave as it breaks into the white water.  And being on the beach I also had to get in a little sand castle building in order to further satisfy the kid in me.  Someone on the trip called me a "little kid" (though I think I'm more of a big one).

When we got back to Xalapa that evening we went salsa dancing, and the last couple of nights we've been out late dancing to different types of music (getting to bed around 3-4ish). Today I slept in till noon, but hey, the weekends are reserved for party time. Work hard, play hard, ya know?

Museo de Anthropogia de Xalapa

We just went to the Museo de Anthropologia de Xalapa and got to see many ancient artifacts, including several of the famous Olmec heads.  Seeing these enormous ancient sculptures in person was mind-blowing.  They are huge (6-18 tons!) and may be some 2500-3000 years old!  Some people note that the sculptures interestingly resemble West African facial features. I am intrigued by the possibility that they could be evidence of pre-Columbian West African contact (though this is heavily debated). Regardless of if the sculptures were inspired by West African visitors, they are still magnificent.

The Olmec were the earliest recorded "civilization" in Mesoamerica, located right here in the state of Veracruz.  One of the other things I also found interesting was the way they seemed to celebrate difference. Their sculptures included people with hair-lips, crossed eyes, and Down syndrome. It was such the opposite of today’s society.  People who stood out or would be looked at as "weird" by today's standards were venerated and held in high-esteem within Olmec culture.

We also learned that the Olmec were thought to have destroyed their own monuments, perhaps after a ruler died. This was opposite of what I initially thought to be the purpose of these monuments. I mean, we think of “great civilizations” sculpting monuments or constructing architecture that will last millennium and be appreciated by future "great civilizations." However, the Olmec didn't seem to do create sculptures or build huge pyramids for these reasons.

What other things were important to the Olmec and why did their empire fall? These are questions that we'll most likely be asking for millennium to come.

Veracruz, Mexico

Well, I’m finally here in Veracruz, Mexico.

After a 13+ hour trip by car, train, plane, taxi, bus, and another taxi, I have arrived in the city of Xalapa (also spelled Jalapa), in the east central part of Mexico in the state of Veracruz.

I'm in a summer study abroad program looking at "Multicultural and Mutliracial Mexico" in the state of Veracruz, Mexico.  The first two weeks are in the capital city of Xalapa (also spelled Jalapa) and the next three weeks are in Veracruz (the city), which is an old colonial port on the Gulf of Mexico where some of the first Africans were brought into the Americas by the Spanish starting in the 1500s.

There are still some interesting and clearly apparent West African influences here that are often overlooked.  Before I left the states, a professor told me that if Mexico went by US racial codes, 1/3 of Mexicans would be labelled "black." Studying the reasons behind this different racial labeling system is one of the things I will be doing in the upcoming weeks. 

Well, I'm presenting here in the first week so I need to go get on some reading now.

Peace,
AB