One thing I did learn.

This has been here since before time began.  

Then some Spainards went and plopped this on top of it

There is one factor that transcends time, space, culture, religion, and colonization however:

LUCHA LIBRE!!!!!

Check them out

A really interesting non-profit here in Puebla.

JUCONI (english)

How to go to ancient Cholula and learn nothing...

Saturday the weather was perfect.  Perfect for me, that is.  It is cold here for many natives Pueblans, but I think 70 is just right.  I wanted to check out the tiny town to the west of Puebla that has some serious history. 

I needed a day trip.  Puebla was feeling really suburban and lame that day.  As I had spent from 8-11 at a Starbucks online, I wanted to get out of my computer and head and kick up some dust.  

I went to my local travel agency, my housemate Paulo and got the scoop on the three busses necessary to get there.  This was complicated.  It involved looking for the correct color of bus, asking the driver before getting on, looking for the correct mini-mart to get off near, and to catch the right bus that goes to Cholula. 

Of course, I screwed up my first shot.  I wound up hoofing around a part of Puebla I'd never seen, though.  Ran across some pretty weird shit, and it was relatively easy to get back exactly where I started, a block from my house.  

This was all fine, but I wanted to get to the archeology, you know?  

Perhaps I'll get those pictures up tomorrow.

Talk the Talk

I had one of those ridiculous days on Friday where you have the same, "detail of foreigner life" conversation twenty times.

Well, it wasn't really twenty times, but you'll recognize the feeling when I tell you what it was.

All college students, travelers, etc. have it more times than they can count, you guessed it,

the accent conversation.

It started in the morning, at 7:00 when my spanish was particularly poor and I went back to english to ask my housemate about a "tutor."

He had no clue what I was talking about, until I said tutor in a Spanish accent. He thought I was talking about an architectural style or family of English monarchs. This led me to share with him what the Chicago accent sounds like, which he found absolutely hilarious.

Later that day, while commiserating with some other gringos, it came up again. As they were from either the West coast or the East coast, I was able to entertain everyone with my spot on requests for a "haat dog, or a poleish saasage. Yu know, aftir da gaame."

More hilarity.

Anyway, my housemate's girlfriend, Paola, says to me, "Everyone tells me I speak spanish with a Chicago accent because I lived there when I was a little girl! You're from Chicago, what do you think?"

Third time today, and it wasn't even brought up by me. Chingada madre.

Well I had no choice but to explain that she did not have a Chicago accent, and that a Chicago accent could be achieved by either holding your nose or joining the Chicago Police Department. I was forced by circumstance to produce another round of impersonations.

Hilarity ensues.

The weirdness was yet to come though. Housemate Paulo was putting on music later in the evening, and Paola was saying something about Oldies. Then I hear "Oldies 104.3..." I stopped her, "What was that?"

"Oh I don't know, I just said it."

"You know that's the Chicago radio station that plays the oldies, right? You just pulled it up out of the attic of your brain."

"WHAAT!?"

Then the true test, Chicagolanders, you know what I'm going to do:

I put Paola to this one,

Complete the jingle everybody:

Five eight eight, two three hundred ____________

She totally got it. And had no idea how. First she got the tune, then without me telling her, she came up with "Empire."

That old man has international scope.

Depressing.

I'm so not homesick....but....

why did this video make me a little misty...

Mario Takes Metropolis (Chicago)

little hurt

that I did not get similar treatment...

just kidding, happy to be in the same country as Wild Hill for a moment.  

So wacky, reading the coverage now...

A lesson for today, a lesson for tomorrow

"Who would like to share their answer with the whole class? Ferdinand?  Yes, of course, stand up and read for us!  No? Are you sure? Okay, I'll read it..."

(internal monologue: holy shit, this is illegible and makes no sense wtf wtf wtf, everyone is staring and waiting...wtf wtf wtf...okay Prof. Brendan, time to lie like the wind!)

Today was my first experience up in front of my two sections of 5 grade English.  It was great, but it did not come without a few surprises.  

Surprisingly, everyone listened to me!  However, the new teacher phase will wear off soon enough.  The rest of the surprises were all in the moment...like the scene above.  I just ignored what was on Ferdinand's paper and summarized his answers.  I made the best of what was there, putting together the pieces.

This is what everyone does with my spanish, i'm sure.  I have a little piece here and a little piece there.  

When I walked out of my house today, I saw this:

The similarities to my brain right now are shocking.  

But its also every young person in my class, what I know of them is so small...a flash of color here, a fragment there.  Am I looking at the polished side of this one, or the unpolished side?  Will i see a beautiful fragile pattern emerge tomorrow, or a simple, strong lines and clean edges?

Like this bucket of broken tiles could become a mosaic, I hope I help to shape something memorable.  Today was a beginning.

Colegio Americano

I've begun to work in my school.  Good ole' Colegio Americano in Puebla.  

The history of the school is pretty straight forward.  Some rich folks wanted to set up a school to teach the American kids who were living in Puebla.  I think the first classroom was in someone's garage.  Then as time went on the school grew to the staggering institution it is today.  They have an amazing sense of school pride and community in there school, aided no doubt by the school mascot, the Husky.  

Snow dog, in Mexico, I know...but whaddya gonna do?  We can't do any culturally insensitive mascots anymore...To bad we couldn't be the Snow Whites, I mean, the merch ideas are endless....

Shabbat sweet Shabbat

I first wondered when I saw what I thought was a beautiful shofar sitting on the hallway table.  Then, unmistakably, a hamsa hanging above the sink.  

I know what you're thinking, you small minded reader, "Why, in one of the most Catholic cities in Mexico, Brendan ends up in a Jewish family?  Wacky!"

You're damn right its wacky, and I couldn't be happier with 'em.  

Being as my grandfather was a professor of Old Testament theology and Hebrew, I've actually got more Jewishness rattling around in my brain than Catholicism.  I never even bought the comic book lives of the saints.

So:

My first ever shabbat dinner was on Friday, March 20th in the Montejo household.  It was fantastic.

It made me think of a wonderful cookbook that Nicholas Hamel had in college, it was Jewish cooking around the globe.  All these amazing recipes!  I promised my house mom (I dunno what to call her yet, lets try house mom for a while) that I would cook for an upcoming Shabbat dinner.  

Well, never having ever been to a Shabbat dinner before, I thought I did pretty well.  I got there before sundown at least, changed clothes, and Paulo dug up a wacky little kipa appropriate for a 7 year old.  I think it was a watermelon motif.

Now what the hell do I do with the knowledge that I gained this afternoon, upon opening the oven I saw a giant bag of Chicarrones!  Yup, fried pork skin, in this Jewish house.  What a scandal!  I am reminded of the following amazing joke 

My window in Puebla, and my former window in Chicago.

I got on a plane in Chicago at 6 and arrived at 12 in México City. You know you're getting close to México City by the billowing smog that lies over the town. I got off a plane, got through immigration, and was on my way to booking a bus to Puebla.
This was very easy, and cheap. For 10 bucks, it was a smooth, cushy ride through mountains and tiny communities. I was feeling confident, everything was going exactly as I thought it would.



Then I arrived at the CAPU, which was nothing like I thought it would be.

It was the central bus terminal of Puebla, but it was nothing like the AICM (México City Airport).
As we all got off the bus, I saw that all our luggage was thrown into a large pile. Passengers were to stand behind a low fence and push through the the front to get the attention of an attendant. The attendants, rushed around grabbing bags and hoisting them over the fence, while everyone jockeyed for position and shouted out the describing features of their bags. I just waited till there were only a few left so I could point.

Then I bought my ticket for a taxi, with all my luggage in tow, I hustled out onto the curb. The taxi ticket system (like the streets, and the busses) works because people know what they are doing.
I, a la otra mano, don't know. So I accidentally cut a bunch of people and went directly to a taxi without going to the dispatcher first.
Meirda.
It was fine, it was fine, no drama. No drama, until I handed the direcions to the driver, who then asked, "Que fraccion?, Conozces que calle?"
Muchas meirda.
I showed him the directions, I showed him my ticket, I showed him the sentance that my homestay provider had written as directions.
At a stoplight, after looking very very thoughtful for a few moments, my driver gleefully shouted, "aaahh! Calle Jacarandas! Sí!" And then we were on our way to my new home.

So.

More pictures soon. But now that I've calmed down a bit.
This is my world for the next few months. I am in Puebla, México as a new student teacher (maestro practica) at the Colegio Americano en Puebla.

A student of English stopped me on the street today. He had some questions prepared, and in his broken English and my broken Spanish we figured each other out. He was a student doing an interview project. His two friends watched (one did the recording) and laughed as we talked about politics, education, and world travel. The "entrevista" (interview) taught me a lot. I found myself saying "No education is complete without going to another country."

I never put that into words before that moment, though I had always considered it truth.
I also secretly enjoyed helping him say words in English. I don't know what that says about me, but it was true.
Maybe it made me just feel special for a second, it a place where I know so little, knowing something was a good feeling.

A lot of firsts, in the first few days...

Hey everyone,
Introductions stink, so let me describe where I am right now:
Puebla, PUE, MX.

I am still in shock.