Marikan di Kor en Acapulco, México

El proceso contínuo de desclosetamiento

2009-09-13T23:19:00.000-07:00

Voilá! He aqui la última columna que escribí bajo el título de Border Jumper (cuya idea no fue mía nombrarle así). Me quedé bastante satisfecho con casi todos los temas tocados y mini-ensayos resultantes de esta colaboración entre Queerty.com y yo. Gracias a todos por haber leído:

It was one of my first days at the Universidad Autónoma de Guerrero, in Acapulco. Standing in front of level 300 English with around 40 students, they began to shoot me questions regarding my thoughts on ACapulco; where had I been, where had I gone out, what had I seen. It just so happens that I had already acquainted myself with the gay scene visiting a few bars and clubs the prior weekend. Deciding to be a jokester, un estudiante asked if I had gone to Demas before turning to his group of friends and cracking up--sólo faltaba chocarles los cinco. "Actually, yeah I did," I shot back in a very nonchalant manner. The student's demeanor immediately turned from jovial to serious as another asked, surprised, "Wait. Did you really?"

As we all know coming out is a process, and not a single event. I guess in a heteronormative society, it's to be expected. Before traveling to Acapulco, I promised myself that I would continue my coming-out philosophy of reacting in all situations as a straight person would. Imagine this exchange:

Acapulco Taxi Driver: "...and what do you think about the boys from Acapulco."

Heterosexual gringo: "I will begin my response by negating the false presupposition of my sexuality behind your question."

Okay, perhaps that's not an authentic hypothetical response, but you get the message: if someone assumes I’m straight, there’s no reason for me not to casually correct them. Of course at times my nerves or overthinking impede me from fulfilling this goal 100% of the time, but it is something I strive for. Nonetheless, because I was going to be teaching at a school in Acapulco, in a different country and culture, I made sure to speak with my supervisor about the issue. "You mean you're just going to randomly tell the students you're gay?" she questioned. After further explanation she concluded it would be a non-issue...and it was.

Although the topic never really presented itself in the classroom, other than the example above, it definitely did outside of class, usually initiated with a question about my “girlfriend” back home, or what I thought about acapulqueña girls. I guess the “news” traveled fast because, soon thereafter, one of the secretaries in the department, with whom I shared a workspace, approached me one day very concerned. To sum up her comentario she told me to be careful because Mexico was diferente de los Estados Unidos, and in essence being gay wasn’t as accepted. However, based on my experiences I had somewhat of a different perspective.

While living in Guadalajara a couple years ago, the San Francisco of Mexico, I remember having a heated argument with a roommate, an older man in his mid-50's, who believed being gay went against nature. "There are cases of homosexuality in animals," I contended visibly upset. "Right, so gay people are like animals," he responded chuckling it up with another roommate, which infuriated me even more. The following morning I was prepared to give him the silent treatment until he offered me some of his daily banana-chocolate licuado as a sign of peace. I gladly accepted.

That’s not the only example of contradictory machismo. On numerous occasions while being taxied around Acapulco, my main source of transportation, the conversation would inevitably lead again to Acapulqueñas, their beauty, and at times the size of their mammary glands. According to my policy, I didn’t just “play along” with this male-bonding ritual but honestly expressed my sexuality. No taxista ever gave a negative response (to my face), and some exhibited a curiosity about the topic that made even me feel a bit awkward. I told the secretary at the school about these experiences, but nonetheless she insisted.

She said that straight teachers would never share or mention their personal lives, or anything related, with a student. It could have helped my argument if I would have known that I would later attend a school pool-party where one teacher decided to sport a tank top with “Squeeze me” written in the front in English. Aside from the double-standard, my philosophy is based on integrity; fighting that feeling that tells you to hide who you are.

My last anecdote I’ll write about is of another student, who confided in me enough to come out of the closet to me early on in the year. So comfortable indeed that he approached me to ask if I was activo or pasivo, because he and his friends "couldn't tell." Of course this is where I had to draw the line.

Forget Leading a Double Life. Try Wrestling With Double Meanings

2009-09-13T22:57:00.000-07:00

This is my second-to-last post I did for Queerty that originally appeared on the website July 3rd, 2009:

One day I was putting up flyers around the school to advertise a scholarship program to the students. I entered one class and began taping a paper — hoja in Spanish — up to the window. I asked one of the students if the hoja was crooked, to which he yells to some girls standing outside the door, "Hey! Brandon wants to know if he has it crooked." ("Quiere saber si la tiene chueca.") I held back the laughter shaking my head in disapproval, while making a mental note of the joke for future use.

Just to provide a little language lesson: La (or "it") is the direct object here and replaces la hoja, or "the flyer." However, one with their mind in the gutter could possibly "misinterpret" the la as not replacing la hoja but la verga—a crude way to refer to the masculine member.

Now in my second stint living in Mexico, I've come to better understand what is now my favorite part of the language and culture: los albures, or the Spanish version of double entendres, usually goosed with a sexual connotation. Remember in grade school when someone would say they were going to “do it,” or had “done it,” and everyone would immediately take it out of context, "Eww, gross! You’re gonna do it with who!?" Well, it's like that, but a bit more complex. Anything you say can be used against you … in the court of social opinion.

When I first lived in Mexico, in Guadalajara, I didn’t catch on to los albures. Fast-forward to the numerous times where I was the only one not laughing. But, I was indeed aware of them. In fact the first thing I was usually quizzed on when locals pegged me as a foreigner was my understanding of albures: “Do you know what albures are? Do you understand them?” And the fact that they often asked with such pride, like a little kid asking if you’ve seen their bug collection, gave me a sense of their importance within Mexican identity. Armando Jiménez, the Mexican author behind a book about albures’ role in popular culture (Picardía mexicana), champions them as a defining characteristic of the national culture.

Of course, not everyone uses albures. My supervisor at the university where I teach English, for example, never used any, at least not in my presence. And there are certainly times when albures are inappropriate. But, both friends and students albur-ed me so much I began to learn the rules of the game.

My landlords own a restaurant downstairs where, every morning, I order scrambled eggs with frijoles and tortillas. Sometimes I change things up and wander over to the girls selling bagged jugo de naranja around the block. Once I decided to switch up my order and naively asked for some milk—leche. You can probably guess the double meaning. Of course the owner, Don Miguel, jumped at the opportunity, “¡Ora! ¡Quiere leche con sus huevos!” Perhaps I should have clarified that I wanted cow milk before they could erupt in laughter, although that probably would have dug myself even deeper.

Another time, I had just purchased a brand new guitar so I could start taking lessons. I told my friend Blanca that I’d play it for her whenever she wanted: “Te la toco cuando quieras.” If you’ve got a loose understanding with Spanish, you know I just set myself up. Tocar not only means “to play,” but also “to touch.” I just offered to touch it whenever she wanted.

Admittedly, in the beginning this style of humor really got on my nerves — until I realized how fun it is when I join in and torment someone else! But it’s more than cracking jokes; it’s being able to participate in and enjoy an aspect of the culture that many Mexicans take pride in.

As I was saying goodbye to some students outside the school, we decided to take a small group photo. “Me la sacas?” I asked one of the students, which in this context means, “Will you take my picture?” However, knowing that it could also translate as “Will you pull it out?,” I jumped to clarify what it was before they could get me: “¡La foto! ¡La foto!”

C'est moi en route a la plage.

2009-07-27T00:28:00.001-07:00

I tried to create a seamless trail of photos to the beach, although most of the time it just appears to be jumbled street photos. Oh well. It makes me nostalgic nonetheless. Mission accomplished.

SwineTime

2009-05-24T08:20:00.001-07:00

The sun slowly disappeared over the hills surrounding the bay of Acapulco and the water was now freezing. My friend Carlos agreed it was time to get out. In the elevator on the way down to let me out of his apartment building (the pool's on the roof) I noticed in the mirror that my eyes were excruciatingly bloodshot, as if they had just been rubbed with a handful of sand. Carlos saw me off and my tummy began to rumble urging me to stop in a restaurant for a bite to eat. I slipped into a nearby Subway on the Costera and quickly noticed I was the only one without cubrebocas (face masks), including the employees. Not only did I look like the walking dead, but I could feel the "tickly sensation" of an oncoming sneeze. Immediately I released two mists of saliva into the palms of my hands. "Do you need a cubrebocas?" the employee asked. Behind his "face condom" I couldn't tell if he was joking or legitimately concerned.

Unlike the clientele and workers in the restaurant may have believed, I didn't have the dreaded swine flu; a combination of bad allergies and my eye contacts had caused the inflammation. But who could blame them for their suspicions fed by the exaggerated climate of an incessant media and quick-acting government. Here in Acapulco, within days of the outbreak and at the hest of the Health Department, cinemas and malls were closed, restaurants were ordered to serve only take-out, all classes were canceled for two weeks in some places, up to three in others, and all of it giving the idea that this was an extremely contagious deadly disease.

I admittedly fell into the trap constantly checking the news online for anything swine-flu related and readily sent it to the other Mexico Fulbright assistants. The WHO raised their "warning" level to the very scary-sounding phase 5-6, Widespread Human Infection, while the media relentlessly counted and reported both confirmed and unconfirmed cases. Then there were the constant images of cubrebocas in newspapers, TV and on the internet, although I could just take a glance out my window to see people walking down the street in them. Family members understandingly fearing for my safety also helped fan the flame. One of my aunts wrote me an email pleading that I return home. Even my dad, who's usually the rational one, sent me an email urging me to consider ending the Fulbright program early to go back to tha U.S. I started to think, "Ruh-roh! This must be serious!"

But I began to wonder, "If it really were that dangerous the State Department would have evacuated us already...right?" That is unless Obama really was plotting to take over PEMEX and distract the Mexican public by infecting them with pork influenza like one of the conspiracy theories I had heard.

I had been planning a 14-hour bus trip to Guadalajara but then I chickened out since I had to pass through-- gulp -- "ground zero," Mexico City! However, I started to think about it; Acapulco is the number one tourist destination for Chilangos (those who live in the capital). It could indeed be safer to travel at this time than to stay put in this popular vacation spot. As I headed out of my house with my duffle bag, the landlady was picking mangos from the branches above the carport. I explained to her where I was going, which was met with a dramatic pause. "Cuídate mucho (Take care of yourself)," she said almost as if it were a final goodbye.

Of course I made it to my friend's house in Guadalajara alive and ended up spending a week there because the Health Secretary in the state where I live, Guerrero, decided to push back classes. I was happy for the extended vacation, although with bars and clubs closed there wasn't that much to do at night, except grab my friend's wig and make a low-end remake of Beyonce's "I'm a Diva" video.

At the beginning, it kind of sounded like the plot from Outbreak, but now seems just blown out of proportion, and I'm still left a bit confused as to how serious the threat is. Mexico's Minister of Health claims to have avoided 8,000 potential deaths with their measures; a total of 66 deaths have been reported. This is hardly the killer Flu of the early 1900's and more than a hundred times more people have been killed by the drug war, but the swine-flu fiasco unfortunately has probably done an equal amount of damage to Mexico's image abroad. Cubrebocas may filter out the virus but it can't filter out the hype.

Confessions of a Taxista

2009-05-24T08:02:00.001-07:00

I had to take a taxi to meet with Gabrielle, another Fulbrighter who has been doing performance work in Mexico City, since we probably won't see each other before I leave. She is staying a couple of days at Pie de la Cuesta, where Rambo III was partly filmed. It's a beach about media hora north of Acapulco. I first took a blue taxi to the parada where I could agarrar a yellow one, a taxi colectivo.

The first driver, who had lived in N.Y. for 3 years with his brother, immediately began to express his disdain for Acapulcan English teachers, especially one of his daughter's in particular who would say "very well" to respond to "How are you doing?"

I told him that people usually don't say "very well" but that se entiende. (Perhaps a literal translation from muy bien)

He tells me that if you go to the states and gesture itching your rear accompanied with a moan of uncomfort también se entiende.

Touché.

Lost in Translation

2009-05-24T07:49:00.000-07:00

Just imagine for a moment that you enter a McDonald's with antojo for a Mcflurry and you're not sure which to get so you review the flavors. Let's see, Oreo, M&M, strawberry... Milch?

I don't know about you but the word "milch" in my mind sounds like everything I wouldn't want mixed into a McFlurry.

Just thinking about it makes me wanna milch.

(According to this website, Milch is a famous chocolate bar here in Mexico with pieces of hazelnut and rice.)

Confessions of a Taxista

2009-05-13T11:50:00.001-07:00

I've always thought that I wish I could secretly record the conversations that I have with the taxistas of Acapulco, or rather, their monologues about life in Acapulco, where they've been, what they've seen. Perhaps I did not mention it before, but even my maestro de arte used to taxistear (my own palabra inventada).

Today I've come down to the Costera to, según, be productive working on my resume and finding a news article for WatchingAmerica.com to translate. It is walk-able or even bus-able, but I opted to agarrar un taxi. 30 pesitos, but we would have to stop in a gasolinera to change my billete de 200. For the umpteenth time a taxista revealed that he had lived in the U.S., Los Angeles, for three years only to return to Mexico because his mother had become ill. He arrived through the Sonoran desert and would maybe go back once the economy turns around. I did not have the chance to ask what he worked in.

Thinking I was an arquitect at first because I had la pinta de arquitecto he soon realized I was not from Acapulco, which is when he began to speculate that las acapulqueñas were "after me" because I don't look like a local. I look "Hawaiian" or "Caribbean" or "Jamaican" he tells me, while the local people are more morenillo.

He then proceeds to ask me the obligatory "Which is more difficult to learn Spanish or English?" to which I respond with something akin to "No lo sé, o sea, realmente no tuve que 'aprender' inglés entonces no te puedo decir."

Before changing the 200 bill we stopped on the side of the road so he could fill up the tank with gas he keeps in a Coca-Cola water bottle as he explained to me that the vochos-- almost all taxis in Acapulco are old VW beetles-- have the gas tank up front and the engine in the back. Interesante.

Influenza Porcina

2009-05-04T22:31:00.000-07:00

As I chill in la casa de Misa en Guadalajara, hace casi 3 años que estudié en la Universidad Autónoma de Guadalajara, and the news anounces that the influenza está en decenso, me pregunto si debería de regresarme el miércoles o hasta el domingo. Le marqué a mi tutora y básicamente she told me that I could come back Sunday if I wanted ya que no esperaba un gran turnout de estudiantes esta semana.

Mientras tanto Novedades Acapulco reporta hoy que:

Se exageró la medida de cerrar negocios

Googleadas

2009-04-30T18:16:00.000-07:00

What do you do when Acapulco shuts down because of the Influenza Porcelina outbreak? You google yourself of course to see what comes up!

Last time I happened upon an old article from a BGSU newsletter about my Fulbright grant, and this time I found out that I'm a celebrity.

That's right, I have my own Imdb.com profile page. This is the website that gives all types of information about movies, their release dates, the cast, directors, synopses, etc. It also gives you the work history of anyone that you look up. Just so happens that I had a minor production assistant role in the small indie picture, "Eating Out" filmed in Tucson and released in 2004. (No it's not a porno. And why it associates me with BBS: The Documentary, I have no idea.)

Not only did I help out with moving stuff around on set, the director practically begged me to use a piece of my artwork in his film. I finally caved in and gave him one of my best drawings. 6 1/2 minutes in you'll see a colored-pencil sketch of a face, eyes nose and lips, on the wall above the bed to the left that I actually did senior year of high school. (Warning: this clip contains nudity and is not suitable for children)

I also make a grand guest appearance in the film playing partygoer #10. Fast forward to around 1:50 into the video clip, and don't blink.

Sorry Telemundo, Univisión, Telefutura...

2009-04-30T11:07:00.001-07:00

As I walked to the Comercial Mexicana to buy some cleaning supplies for the aseo lady, my mind began to wander from counting all the passersby wearing cubrebocas in the street to a posting I had made a month or so ago about the use of Spanish in mainstream media in the U.S. I realized that what I had done ultimately was exclude Telemundo, Univisión and other Spanish media outlets from the "mainstream," which silences the voz and poder of the Spanish-speaking community in the U.S.

I do, however, still believe that networks which broadcast predominantly in the English language need to offer a better representation linguistically of U.S. society especially by including characters for whom code-switching is an integral part of their every-day life.

Influenza Porcina

2009-04-30T07:32:00.000-07:00

Swine Flu: Mexico Urges People To Stay Home For 5 Days

Este fin de semana, como iba a ser puente "normal," es mi última oportunidad de volver a Guadalajara antes de que me regrese a los EEUU. ¡Gracias influenza porcina!

¿Qué tan preparado está el estado de Guerrero para combatir contra el virus? Novedades Acapulco explica que está grave la situación:

El secretario de Salud en Guerrero, Luis Barrera Ríos, confirmó la primera muerte de una persona a causa del virus de la influenza, aunque precisó que aún no se puede definir si fue del tipo porcino.
El funcionario estatal calificó la situación de la epidemia en territorio guerrerense como "un problema muy grave", al tiempo que admitió que no se cuenta ni con laboratorios ni con personal capacitado para identificar la existencia del virus H1N1, de la porcina.
Reiteró que en Guerrero se han detectado 96 posibles casos de ese mal, a los que se les aplicó la prueba de identificación, y sólo 14 dieron positivos al tipo A, lo cual le informó Novedades desde ayer.

Meanwhile the World Health Organization (WHO) has raised the alert level to Phase 5. What does that mean exactly? Their webpage has a diagram detailing exactly what each level entails:

Phase 5 is characterized by human-to-human spread of the virus into at least two countries in one WHO region. While most countries will not be affected at this stage, the declaration of Phase 5 is a strong signal that a pandemic is imminent and that the time to finalize the organization, communication, and implementation of the planned mitigation measures is short.

Acapulco Jukebox

2009-04-30T06:46:00.000-07:00

"BOLIIIIIILLOOOOOO. BOLILLOS CALIENTES Y DORADOS. BOLILLO."

Influenza Porcina

2009-04-27T12:34:00.000-07:00

Todo el país sin clases por la influenza

Acapulquake

2009-04-27T09:47:00.000-07:00

Why am I obsessed with trying to come up with "punny" titles for my blog? Okay, so maybe they're not so clever.

Sitting here attempting to finish up a translation for the Americas Program, I experienced my first earthquake. Actually it was my second, but the first time I was in a taxi with friends and we only found out when someone text messaged me: "sentiste el temblor?". But this time I could feel the house start to shake as I gazed out the enormous windows of my living room leading to the street. I heard the sound of a struggling car motor, which initially made me think it was just an enormous garbage truck about to pass by. The neighbors stepped out from their house and curiously looked around as if to ensure themselves everything was still in place. Probably not a doozy on the richter scale, but pretty scary.

It lasted for about five seconds, and now I'm beginning to simultaneously plan my exit strategy/recreate a scene from an action movie: throw computer to ground; run to door; briefly check for falling debris on the balcony; jump down onto the roof of a parked car tucking and rolling off the hood; shimmy around to the driver's door; somersault away from the vehicle drawing my Walther PPK and taking out the snipers in the window on the 3rd floor as the entire building blows up...

Sigh, back to the translation.

Update: 6.0 on the Richter Scale.

Influenza Porcina

2009-04-27T07:26:00.000-07:00

Influenza Porcina

2009-04-25T12:19:00.000-07:00

Todavía no se ha presentado ningún caso de influenza porcina en el estado de Guerrero, según las autoridades. Sin embargo, debido a que el puerto es un destino turístico cada fin de semana para mucha gente proveniente de la Ciudad de México, el virus podría estrenarse muy próxmamente en Acapulco.

Linguistic Variety Show

2009-04-23T15:14:00.001-07:00

If you have a passion for linguistics and language change, then you'd

be interested in hearing about the characteristics of the variety or varieties of Spanish

I've encountered while living down here in Acapulco. A number of things

have caught my attention but I'll start with one in particular.

When my roommate was still living with me a few months ago and we were chatting in my room, I jokingly told him how disappointed I was that he had failed some exams in school.

"Me decepcionas la verdad..." le dije con gesto reprobatorio que después se hizo risa.

A couple of days later he brought up the comment I had made and said something along the lines of:

"Me dijiste que te dececsiono"

All I could think about was how could I possibly have dissected him. That was really the only word association that came to my mind. "Perhaps it's slang?" me quedé pensando.

Turns out some people, including other friends of mine, velarize the labial oclusives apparently in syllable-final position.

In other words, the soft drink pepsi may become peksi, and, as demonstrated by my roommate, decepcionar possibly becomes deceksionar.

Because I'm obsessed with non-standard varieties of Spanish you can imagine my delight everytime I hear this feature.

Acapulco Jukebox

2009-04-21T08:31:00.001-07:00

I've been wanting to go see the Orquesta Filarmónica de Acapulco for awhile now, that plays in the centro de convenciones as well as travelling to other regions of the nation. Unfortunately I no longer have the flyer so I do not remember which songs they played nor the name of the opera singer who took to the stage throughout the performance. They did, however, perform a number of movie themes including El Señor de los Anillos and the Sound of Music. I recorded the following video with my digicam:

Rewind

2009-04-19T13:07:00.000-07:00

While engaging in one of the most narcissistic activities in which one can partake, googling oneself, I ran across this article that I should have posted before taking off for Acapulco. It's an article about my grant from August 11th, 2008, appearing in the BGSU Monitor. I remember being embarrassed while posing for photos for the photographer in the Student Union right before I headed to work at the Bowling Green Language Institute. Seems like forever ago...

BGSU graduate heads to Mexico as Fulbright Scholar

A study-abroad stay in Spain as an undergraduate was enough to convince Brandon Brewer to change his major. Brewer, who graduated from BGSU Aug. 9 with a master’s degree in Spanish, will now be pursuing his love of the language and culture full time as a Fulbright Student Scholar in Acapulco.

He will teach English at the Autonomous University of Guerrero, one of Mexico’s state universities. “I’ll apply what I’ve learned teaching Spanish at BGSU as a graduate assistant, and some of what I’ve learned volunteering as an English teacher,” he said. “My goal is to immerse students in the language and also give them the cultural aspect.”

But he is most looking forward to Fulbright’s required community-oriented project outside the university, in which he will work with students in a middle or high school. Depending upon the availability of technology, he would like to arrange a “pen pal” correspondence with a group of students in the United States. “The U.S. is having its presidential election, and Mexico just went through theirs two years ago. I’d like to get them into blogging and email to compare the two countries,” he said.

Originally a media arts major, Brewer grew up in the Tucson, Ariz., suburb of Oro Valley. As an undergraduate at the University of Arizona, he surprised his family by choosing to go to Alcalá, Spain, for a study-abroad program. “It was a big step,” he recalled. “I had never been outside the U.S., and I hadn’t known anyone who’d traveled abroad at all.”

He enjoyed the experience so much, he said, that he later went abroad several more times, again to Alcalá as a BGSU graduate student as well as to Brazil and Mexico. “I like languages a lot and I want to learn more,” he said, adding that he is also looking forward to the warm climate and living in a Spanish-speaking culture once again.

Sol tras Sol

2009-04-18T15:27:00.000-07:00

I'm not even sure if that pun made sense but this is my latest creation-in-process at Ernesto's home studio. Solo le falta detallar un poco más la botella-la etiqueta, el logo de Sol, las orillas- y arreglar el cielo en el fondo. No sé si vaya a ser mejor que mi último cuadro pero creo que es por lo menos digno de ser colgado en la pared, ¿verdad que sí?

Y para q puedan juzgar mejor mis habilidades, que, téngase en cuenta, apenas voy desarrollando, les dejo la foto original que tomé en la playa La llorona de Michoacan...I think.

305 million Americans. One bucket.

2009-04-18T14:42:00.000-07:00

Due to the rampant water shortages of Acapulco, especially during high tourist season when the hotel zones get priority, it is not uncommon to turn on the shower only to see a few droplets circle around the edges of the faucet until they huddle up and finally plummet to the ground. There are three options at this point: go downstairs to kindly ask the landlord to pump water up to the tanks resting on the roof; readjust my hygiene standards for the day; or, grab a bucket and head for the emergency water bin to the side of the back door.

Some may see the bucket method, or bañándose a mentadas de madre as one student put it, as too unbecoming. However, I prefer to view it as a potential Green Revolution that could take the U.S. by storm. Imagine for a moment, if you will, that instead of showering for 5 minutes (or however long you take), we instead filled up a medium-sized bucket to cleanse our bodies. Having routinely gone through the experience, believe me, it requires very little water to hit the "hotspots." And although it was a bit awkward at first learning to reach all the nether regions, that's the point! It's very easy to stand in the shower for 20 minutes savoring the relaxing jet stream of hot water on your body, but a little more difficult to lose track of time when you have to squat to splash the soap off.

That's weird...

2009-04-14T21:14:00.000-07:00

So the story goes that my great friend Judson came to visit about a month or so ago and happened to meet a certain Mexicano chaparrito that works on the costera at El Zorrito or another restaurant beside Galerías Diana, the most super fashion shopping mall of Acapulco only recently eclipsed by the more uppity La Isla. To stay in contact with said character during his stay, I generously allowed Judson to utilize my celular. No big deal, right? As soon as Judson left this guy would either delete or forget the number, right?

Wrong.

Dozens of calls and litters of text messages later this tarado is still trying to contact me. I'm sure he's a nice boy-- he and I exchanged maybe four sentences with one another in total-- but when he tells me things like "I love you" (in English!) it becomes rather creepy, even if he isn't aware of the meaning lost in translation.

Today I received another gem:

T vi pasast x my work xke t cortas mucho el pelo tkm

Translation:

I saw you, you walked by my work, why did you cut your hair off (I just shaved my head)

tkm is shorthand for te quiero mucho

Tonight after dinner at Los Tarascos my friend Rubi had the brilliant idea of calling the pobrecito to pretend as if she had found my cell on the street and had been using it ever since as her own. She then told him to quit calling and sending weird texts. He simply hung up.

Going Loca in Acapulco

2009-04-14T07:31:00.000-07:00

I am thoroughly enjoying my stint as a guest columnist over at Queerty.com. My second column is now up in which I discuss how Spanish has allowed me to express myself more openly in ways I wouldn't necessarily dare back home. Check it out and increase the number of views!

The third topic will be Spring Break set to run in two weeks.

¿Dan Restrepo Makes Historia?

2009-04-13T21:50:00.000-07:00

Recently I wrote about lil' Ethan López and my dream for Spanish breaking into mainstream media in a big way. While I, along with Robert Gibbs, am admittedly ignorant as to if this was in fact the first time a foreign language has been spoken from the podium during a White House press briefing, I sure hope we see a lot more of it in the future.

Restrepo, formerly of the Center for American Progress, used two languages on Monday -- fielding questions from the American and foreign press. On several occasions he offered the same answer twice, catering to, for instance, the Latin American television crews that couldn't broadcast important policy announcements in English.

From the HuffingtonPost

Acapulco Jukebox

2009-04-13T16:44:00.001-07:00

When the galería that I began my painting lessons in was still open (it's now Dubai, a súper fresa karaoke or cantabar), we would listen to a variety of songs from Pita's iPod during class. A retired club owner whose brother and sons have taken over family operations of Clásico, Nenas and the now defunct Salon Q, among other business ventures, she always filled the studio with the stylings of Karen Souza featuring renditions of 90's classics like "Creep" by Radiohead and Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun."

I miss the ambience of the gallery with its windows to the costera and the random tourists parading by, just around the corner from Starbucks and across the street from unlimited órdenes of tacos al pastor. I always felt like a free-spirited hippy when I passed through the doors and took a seat at one of the many easels scattered about.

Currently, the classes of pintura have been relocated to the former telenovela star who is my maestro's house, which also allows me to paint very a gusto as the packs of mosquitos attack my sandaled feet. It's an open-aired house with an long, palm-lined walkway to the door frequently traversed by Ernest's adopted street dog.

Since the move in January I've had a total of 6 classes and am well on my way to finishing my next painting, which is acrílico this time instead of óleo. Needless to say the process requires a great amount of patience and minute attention to detail. That is to say if you're a perfectionist. You could very well chuck a bucket of paint at the wall and call it art, and a day. I've found persistence and focus is mostly what I need to produce quality paintings. And of course the proper soundtrack:

Jagged Little Pill is indeed the perfect companion to the strokes of a brush but Ernesto also mixes it up with Eros Ramazzotti and friends:

The only thing better than the pairing of Eros Ramazzotti with Andrea Bocelli, is the matching of the former with Tina Turner.

That's weird...

2009-04-08T06:46:00.000-07:00

A while ago the button on my favorite pair of jeans fell off and I went to the lavandería to see if they could fix it. One of the women there told me she would go to the centro to get me a new one and slap it back on free of charge, since of course I'm a regular customer. I was very grateful but a little perplexed by her choice...

Tengo mucha suerte de tener una lavandería supercerca de mi casa, two doors down. Les llevo mi ropa cada dos semanas como mínimo porque no sería capaz de limpiar mi ropa a mano con esa madre de piedra que usan mis vecinas. "Qué huevon eres," me dicen. Las mujeres que me lavan la ropa son muy buena onda y cada vez que paso por su tienda nos saludamos. Ayer me encontré con una, la mamá, en el oxxo y platicamos un poquitico. Ella compraba algunas meriendas antes de ir a agarrar un autobús para Cuernevaca u otra ciudad que se me olvida.

Ésta ha sido completamente representativa del carácter amable de la gente de aquí porque al caérseles el botón a mis jeans favoritos le pregunté a ella dónde arreglármelos. Ella fue al centro y me consiguió un botón gratis como de favor, supongo que gracias a que soy un cliente ya preferido. Obvio.

Acapulco Jukebox

2009-04-08T06:35:00.000-07:00

A few entries back I mentioned the sounds of mangos slamming on the roof outside my bedroom window. I would love to record that ruido, and in fact one just dropped before I started writing, but it's a little difficult. Por eso I captured another "sound of Acapulco," this time me refiero al garbage collector.

That's the cue for me to run downstairs, via the spiral staircase exit not through the carport, which doubles as school restauran on weekdays, with trash bags in hand to make it before the basurero passes by.

Vermont and Iowa Destroy Traditional Marriage

2009-04-07T10:27:00.000-07:00

If you haven't heard already in the past week or so, both Iowa and Vermont have given the neon rainbow light to gay marriage while D.C. just voted to recognize out-of-state marriage licenses. As my mom would say, thank you Jesus!

Perhaps they saw this video of hermaphroditic snails mating and realized that "same sex unions" are natural and beautiful... eh awkward.

Espringbrekers

2009-04-05T12:43:00.001-07:00

You know I forgot to blog about one of the most talked about times of the year here for Acapulqueños- Espring Break. Not only for some of my girl friends who can't wait to flirt with the hot gringos guapos, although I don't think they ever did, but also for the tourism industry hoping for a surge in sales from all the college students looking to spend money and have a good time. Ever since I got here repeatedly people would tell me, "Oh you just wait until Spring Break! It's crazy!" "The gringos come and hacen un desmadre," they claimed. "Why are gringas such ho's?" one of my friends questioned. "How many do you know?" I asked her. "I know some... a few...one"

Needless to say there was a bit of hyperbole surrounding the whole situation, razón por la cual I started to brace myself at the beginning of March for hoards of wasted espringbrekers roaming the streets and fornicating on hotel balconies (another common complaint).

Finally, the week arrived. I don't live on the costera but head down there a few times a week. I saw a couple groups of students. Heard a lot of English speakers walking down the street scoping out the town. A few gringos in bars, and I admit I'm guilty of stereotyping myself when it comes to guessing or assuming who's gringo and who's not.

The only desmadre really came from a closed-off pool party in one of the hotels. I thought about haciéndome el gringo tarado and saying that I had lost my bracelet just to investigate but probably nothing new that I hadn't seen on an MTV or Wild on E! special.

And now for your... buttocks?

2009-04-02T17:14:00.000-07:00

Today, one of the other teachers at the LEII where I teach English approached me with a question. He pulled me aside to make sure that he was telling his students, massage therapists with English-speaking clients, the right terms necessary to do their work and communicate with the tourists.

"So when the massage therapist is about to massage the..." he points to his rear-end, "what term do they use? Because they don't say ass, right?"

"Yeah, they don't want to use that term." I knew ass was not the right fit, but I was literally stumped. He then asked me what the polite terms were for ass or butt. "Well," I thought. "There's rear."

"But that's the lower back isn't it?" he questioned unconvinced.

"No, you can say rear."

But then I pictured a massage therapist moving down the back declaring, "I'm going to begin to massage your rear." That can't sound right. What about "to massage the rear"? Nope, not that one either.

I propose, "I think gluteus may be the best fit in this situation."

"How about buttocks?"

Now imagine the therapist, as he or she begins to move towards your gluteus maximus, exclaim, "Alright, now I'm going to massage the buttocks"? I think this would be more than cause for laughter, would it not?

So, I told them that probably the therapist should stick with "the gluteus muscles" or "gluteus maximus" or "the gluteus" as it manages to both speak in scientific terms and depersonalizes said under-region of the body. Let's hope it was good advice.

Student Jokes

2009-03-21T15:16:00.000-07:00

One of my students told me this joke that she made up for a class the other day:

What do you call a bee that produces milk instead of honey?

A boobee

LoL

Yo corazon Ethan Lopez

2009-03-20T12:55:00.000-07:00

You can probably imagine my glee when my sister-in-law told me that she and my brother were considering placing my nephew, Jalen, in the Puente de Hozho Bilingual Magnet School of Flagstaff, which has one "track" for Spanish/English and another for English/Navajo. Nothing could be more exciting knowing that Jalen would have the benefit of growing up bilingual, something that I could only dream of and still do... in retrospect.

When me and my bro were little we had a number of nanny's and babysitters that I can remember, April being a particular favorite. Mrs. Huff though was the only one, from what I recall, who spoke Spanish and had a particularly strong accent in English. However, she never spoke the language with me and my brother, or at least enough for us to have acquired it. It brings a lágrima to my ojo.

Another missed-out opportunity concerns Creole Portuguese, which you may know is the language of Cabo Verde, and usually spoken by the older generations on my mom's side of the family.

Never heard Creole Portuguese before? Here's a taste provided by world-famous Cape Verdean artist Cesaria Evora:

The youngans you see have mostly missed out on this beautiful language. And ultimately its because people find a need to, or are forced to, accept the idea that U.S. culture is monolingual when it's really not and never has been. Oh well, at least I am able to do some guesswork from my knowledge of Brazilian portuguese to try and communicate with my mom and Auntie Laura. Ago, N podi fra un poku di kel kuz, hence the title of this blog: Marikan di Kor (American of color), which so neatly expresses my dual identity as black, or person of color, and Cape Verdean, as its written in Creole.

Nothing to do now except set a goal of taking every opportunity to speak Spanish and, in the future, become conversationally fluent in Creole Portuguese. The ones who do always have a second-chance so to speak are the newest generations. During a town-hall meeting Obama attended, introduced by the governator himself, a little boy was given the chance to ask Mr. President the final question. If you watch the video (about 1:20 in), as the little boy says his first name, "Ethan," he says it in standard English as you would expect.

But his last name comes out "Lopez," undeniably in Spanish. I was watching it the other day and it hit me like a ton of bricks...in a good way, and here's why: in all my years of watching media in the United States, mainstream media, far too little do we get to hear the code-switching that so many Americans utilize to communicate to one another. Does Dorah the Explorer count? Yep, and my nephew highly enjoys her and her brother Diego as evidenced by his backpack, scooter, thermos, etc. But I don't want just random words here and there. I want full-out in your face evidence of bilingualism, that I feel is such an important part of this country and its history.

I say put a character on a sitcom or a drama who occasionally speaks in Spanish to his friends or others... and without subtitles. The message isn't so much that you understand what they're saying but that millions of people daily are switching in and out between inglés y español. I certainly would not claim code-switching abilities, but know many who do and it just absolutely amazes me. My mom ups her Creole output especially when visiting her relatives outside of Boston, along with the East Coast R droppage, in part to express that part of her identity. Why can't we catch a glimpse of similar language shifts in movies or advertising?

Word on the street (digo, Wikipedia Boulevard) is that President Obama himself speaks Indonesian, although we do not know to what degree. Why isn't this covered in the news as something amazing, awesome, worthy of celebration? How many other presidents spoke a different tongue, fluently? Imagine the message that it would send if he suddenly switched into Indonesian during a press conference (of course later translating what he had said).

I don't know if my nephew will end up attending that school, but when he grows up, I hope that overall attitudes have changed and being bilingual will be something more publicly visible and valued in the United States.

Bubble-gum Bubbles

2009-03-18T21:44:00.000-07:00

I guess my lil' nephew Jalen was randomly asking people how to blow a bubble with his gum, and then it occurred to him that perhaps Uncle Brandon would know how to do it. So I decided to make a little how-to video to show him. The wonders of technology!

Un-edited Article on Colorism

2009-03-17T10:44:00.000-07:00

So they asked me to make some changes and did some altering of their own before putting up my column about colorism here in Mexico. To offer a bit of self-critique, I admit that I silence the voices of those who do break the color barrier, actors who are darker-skinned and yet enjoy prominent roles in TV shows, movies or advertising. Also, although I do give a link to a New York Times article over the subject, to some it may appear that I give a holier-than-thou criticism from a non-Mexican perspective since I don't go any further into the issue stateside. Lastly, I do not mention class and the role it plays in maintaining the colorist system.

Here's my original writing before all editing:

There's no doubt that one of the most important issues facing Mexico today is the drug war. It's a problem that deserves as much attention and debate as it has received in the national media if not more. However, there's an entirely different subject that merits some discussion, which has been, at least in my opinion, completely absent in the national discourse: the very conspicuous exclusion of darker-skinned Mexicans in everything from telenovelas and commercials to all kinds of other advertising. I hesitate to use the word racism only because I risk conflating the two very different racial systems that exist between the U.S. and Mexico. Colorism is a more apt term; rampant colorism.

It's something that has always irritated me, especially being myself a person of color, since I lived for the first time in Mexico in 2006 in Guadalajara. One immediately notices that the models in advertisements on billboards, in store windows and bus stops have surprisingly white complexions in comparison with the people actually passing by.

In fact, if you were exposed to this imagery and never stepped foot in the country, you would probably think that Mexico had no mulatto, mestizo or indigenous population at all. Go ahead, turn on Univisión or Telemundo, which often run Mexican-produced telenovelas, and you will see exactly what I am referring to. You have actors such as Christopher Uckermann of Rebelde fame or William Levy Gutierrez (actually a U.S. nationalized citizen born in Cuba) from Cuidado con el Ángel who, although they may indeed be fine thespians and perhaps ridiculously good-looking, also seem to have passed along with every other telenovela star the Mexican equivalent of the brown-paper bag test; or in this case more like the white milk-carton test.

After the soap operas, stick around for the commercials if you want to witness even more "whitewashing," such as this commercial for a new shopping plaza in Guadalajara called Plaza de Hierro. I guess just to add insult to injury, as Alejandro Fernandez's love ballad swoons for that girl from Guadalajara with beautiful "ojos negros," we get a close-up of two green and blue-eyed models.

Now I know that some people may be thinking, "What are you trying to say, that all Mexicans are brown skinned?" This is, in fact, a common response from certain Mexicans when I bring the topic up to them. Of course not, but even if the Mexican population were say 50% "light skinned" and 50% "dark skinned," there should be an at least somewhat similar representation in the media, right? Well, currently that ratio seems to sit at about 99% "very light skinned," far from a faithful representation of the country´s actual population.

It's a preference that's also echoed in every-day conversation, something attested to in this ethnographic study on skin color in Veracruz, Mexico. A few months ago I went to the beach with a group of students and upon asking one of the girls why she wouldn't come in the water, she replied, "I don't want to get dark." But avoiding the light isn't the only way to stay "light". While walking to the supermarket the other day (I currently live in Acapulco, Mexico), I spotted some quinceñeras portraits outside a photo developing center. An abrupt change in skin tone from the chin up can only mean one of two things: either they used foundation to whiten up their faces, or to darken up their necks. You be the judge. A common Mexican saying, although also heard in other Latin American countries, puts it even more bluntly: mejorar la raza, or "bettering the race," which refers to marrying a white-skinned person into the family in the hopes that the next generation is ligher-skinned.

It's not my intent to belittle any voices who are indeed speaking out against this injustice, but where is the outrage and criticism? I wonder how many people even acknowledge its existence. One study puts the figure at 40%. However, there is a difference between acknowledgment and public protest. When I do try to bring it up with people, the usual response is to point out that the U.S. is a lot more racist than Mexico, which may or not be true. However, having a racism contest between the two nations is besides the point, although yes, colorism is also alive and well on this side of the border.

So as I really do hope Mexico finds an effective approach to ending the recent rash of violence, I believe that there needs to be another healthy national debate to draw focus to the plight of the slightly-brown-skinned-and-darker and their apparent lack of representation in all forms of media. If you're still not convinced it's a worthy cause, think about Michael Jackson or watch this ridiculous commercial for Pond's "White Beauty" cream from India, and you'll realize how damaging colorism can be.

Update:

It's very interesting how having written for a popular blog that apparently thousands of people read, or at least the number of hits for my post seems to reveal, I can google search it to see who has commented on their own websites, like Santo Gay.

Here we go again. ANOTHER White American writing about color discrimination in Mexico! Give me a break.

S.G.

Well, besides the fact that I am not a "White American," I can agree that I don't want to be THAT Gringo who goes into other countries waving their uppity finger at the host culture. However, I certainly do feel that as a brown-skinned individual--black, mixed, half-Cape Verdean-half-Black, etc.-- I should be able to voice concerns that I feel somewhat have affected me while living in contact with that culture. Any person from a country where Spanish is the official language who journeys to the U.S. only to witness that Spanish speakers are very poorly represented in our media, by all means, criticize away.

2009-03-04T14:09:00.000-08:00

Bam! There's the sound of another mango hitting the tin roof of the carport right outside my window. I literally just jumped out of my chair it's so loud. Sounds like someone's breaking in. Not only does the mango tree block a potentially breathtaking view of the bay from the sótano of the house, but it also scares me by throwing fruit at the ground.

So back to the topic of violence because it is such a daily part of discourse. I was watching video clips from Crooksandliars.com, which is one of my main daily news sources, and I happened upon Bill O'reilly ranting about how he wouldn't send his kids to any part of Mexico. A minute or so into the video Bill O'reilly claims that all the clubs are owned by drug lords and, trust him, he knows because he's been "everywhere in Mexico." I know he's probably pretty well-off financially but I bet I've probably traveled more in Mexico than that clown.

Anyways he says all the "Baby-O"'s of Mexico are dangerous because that's where the drug cartels apparently have a side business . What's a "Baby O" you say? Well, it seems that Bill O'Reilly here is utilizing a literary device, metonymy, which uses a part of a group, one specific club in Mexico, to symbolize the whole, all clubs in Mexico-- kind of like talking about The White House when referring to the Administration or Executive Branch (Wikipedia te quiero mucho). However, it's not just your average run-of-the-mill discoteque, but only one of the most fresa clubs of this tourist town, as illustrated in this New York Times article, "In Acapulco, a Return to Glamour":

But in true Acapulco style, the most exclusive club is also the longest-running. Baby’O erected its first velvet rope more than 30 years ago, and at 2 a.m. on a recent Monday, the well-heeled and well-primped were still arriving, ready to sweet talk their way past the hard-to-please bouncers...

So exclusive that Madonna, Bono and Naomi Campbell were recently spotted there the article claims.

Here's where it gets interesting...

A few weeks ago after having met a fellow Arizonean, from Rio Rico, at the gay bar, we went outside to go to the next club. He was talking to his friends to let them know where he was headed to while I stood there waiting til I heard a, "pss hey you." I turn around to see a man motioning that I come over. "Te están llamando estas chavas," he says to me. So the two girls who were apparently calling me over, seated in a mercedes benz, tell me come in here. I cautiously take a seat. Rich people won't do me any harm, right? One appears to be a transgendered woman with blonde hair, the other a girl from Mexico City who nonetheless spoke with an accent which seemed madrileño, or from Madrid.

"Why are you speaking like that," I ask, "with a Spanish accent?"

"Oh, yeah," she replies.

"Come with us to Baby O," they ask me. "You are so ridiculously handsome. I literally cannot believe my eyes, neither of us could, when we first saw you. We were just like wow..."

Okay maybe I mistranslated juuuust a little bit that last quote. It actually was something more like:

"You're really cute. Come with us to Baby O."

So I explain, "I can't. I'm with some friends who are expecting me in Zoom." (My friends Judson and Blanca were at Zoom waiting for me to come dance with my new acquantance from Rio Rico)

"Forget them, come with us to Rio Rico," they plead. Okay maybe pleading was an exaggeration also, but they were rather insistent.

"I said I can't! How dare you insist that I would leave my friends, one of whom is visiting me for the weekend, and so would have no way to contact me if I just up and ditched him! You think just because I could have the chance to get into one of the most exclusive clubs of Acapulco and maybe appear in one of those social magazines showing the who's who of the city? Well you've both got another thing coming!"

Yeah, obviously didn't say that either. I lingered in their car for awhile thinking how I could somehow get in touch with Judson to tell him that I'd be right back (going upstairs to the club and telling him in person would apparently take too long they told me). So, after explaining that I really couldn't do it, they kicked me out of their Benz with a "Ok, bye!"

"¡Oseeeaaaa!" is what I should of told them, but I gave them a smirk as if to say, "Wow, thanks jerks."

In conclusion, I almost got into one of the narco-clubs that Bill O'Reilly wrote his dissertation on. If only I had seen the Factor before that fateful night, I would have given those two girls a defiant NO! and they would have been the ones left thinking, "Wow, what a jerk."

2009-02-25T21:27:00.000-08:00

So a friend from high school randomly contacted me and asked me if I wanted to do a little interview for one of his clients, he's the managing editor with some company in New York, but anyways his client's website is one Queerty.com. (You can take a peek at the article here)

It's a new series profiling average Joe's of the gay community.

Reading the comments are interesting, especially the person who criticizes Queerty for not picking a "cute enough" average 'Mo. Thanks a lot jerk.

And sorry Nick, but I think my hair está super fashion, oseaaaaaa.

Update: Apparently Cord has asked me to possibly write a bi-weekly column for Queerty.com (every other week or every two weeks?), which would be amazing and allow me to unleash my hidden writer within.

Painting teacher/former Telenovela star

2009-02-16T07:25:00.000-08:00

Apparently my painting teacher used to live in Miami and was in a telenovela "Olvidarte Jamás." He just told me this last night and so I had to do a little YouTube research. Luckily, the novela was a big hit in Romania (no idea what language).

He's the detective who appears about 1:20 into the video, in a blue jacket next to the police officer.

Wannabe Héroe de la Guitarra

2009-02-09T23:11:00.000-08:00

So instead of planning for my class tomorrow I felt that I should record a little sampling of my guitar skills, or lack thereof. This way I can monitor my progress as I take classes from master maestro Raúl, an ex-neighbor, who actually is quite chingón on the guitar.

I'm back! I mean... to work... almost

2009-02-05T18:06:00.000-08:00

Things to cover:
I moved from about 6 blocks away from the school to, literally, if you go alongside the building of where my classes are, there's a little itty bitty bridge that takes you across the ditch to the "garage" of my house, complete with cafetería downstairs for the tourism students.

My roommate was a tal Franco, who seemed pretty cool at the beginning, but one stolen digital camera, one dining room with broken beer bottles on the floor, one smashed egg in the fridge, a snapped-in-half lighter, and several IOU's later... it's safe to say he was the worst roommate I've ever had in my life. Okay so I've only had about 4 in my life but still. You know it's bad when I find a pregnancy test in the bathroom wastebasket, underneath the plastic bag where all the trash should go, and he blames it on me. You get the point, no? Seems like Obama's not the only one who needs a better vetting process... taboom chssssssh!

I guess I did get at least one good thing out of Franco. He introduced me to a blast from Luis Miguel's past I was not familiar with. That boy could really hit them high notes...:

I have resumed my art classes after a very long break and recuperated my painting which is now hanging tranquilamente on my wall. I just finished an awesome portrait of a friend in graphite that is one of my best ever and hope to churn out more art so that they can charge me even more when I try to bring it all back to the U.S.

Me compré una guitarra and my teacher says that I'm a quick learner. ¡The only thing that I can't play very good are those malditas cejillas! ¡Me caen! My hand just does not bend that way. (This is the one where you have to lay the index finger across all the strings while playing a chord with the free fingers)

This semester I will be a lot more busy for sure. I am mostly excited about my Garageband Project with the students which will have them producing and writing an educational music CD to use in their future courses. I will definitely post the entire album after we finish. And... I will be the sole teacher in charge of Phonetics II taking it over from my tutora Gloria.

Fulbright ever so kindly invited us to a week-long workshop in Mexico City for the English Assistants from Mexico (5), Colombia (12) and Venezuela (6). It was very interesting to learn about everyone else's experiences in other schools and programs as well as hear about life in Colombia and Venezuela, two countries that are very stigmatized in the U.S. In spite of some issues here and there with organization at their respective institutions, everybody seemed to be enjoying their time and had nothing but good things to say about the culture and people. I only wish that they would have sent us instead of bringing the others here to México.

I made a little video with Pete and Victoria, two of the other Fulbrighters in Mexico, in Toluca. Shot out to Arleen and Mariska, who visited me in Acapulco. Also, to Gabrielle and Rosa who I kicked it with to bring in the New Year's Acapulco style.

Things I love (sarcastic):
Hairdressers who think I'm dumb because I don't know how to explain very well how I like my hair cute in Spanish (as a matter of fact I'm also horrible at this in English). Case in point:
Ella: muchos chavos ya no se peinan el pelo, solo usan las manos
Yo: yo tampoco. Y aparte como no tengo el pelo liso
Ella: No, tú tienes el cabello ondulado
Yo: Sí, pero, quiero decir que no tengo el pelo liso
Ella: Nooooo. Tú...tienes...el...pelo...ondulado (ya kindergarten talk)
Yo: (I decided to add accompanying fingerwave to help emphasize the negative statement) Digo NO tengo el pelo liso
Ella: Ah, eso sí
Yo: >:-(

The obsession with cohetes and setting them off randomly at night time.

The three species of ants that I always find in every nook and cranny of this apartment. I swear I would wipe them off the face of the earth if I could.

Taking a 9-hour bus ride from Puerto Escondido to Oaxaca with 8 screaming babies, 3,000 curves in the road and one -34-degree-Celsius air vent pointed directly at me and Mariska's face.

Things I love (non-sarcastic):

How when I ask for the price of something people answer me in a tone as if it were dirt cheap (it would probably help if I could show you the accompanying facial expression and body language).

My landlord, Don Miguel, is the most chismoso person I think I've ever met. Today, after going to my ex-neighbor Raul's apartment to pick up a stereo one of the other tenants wakled up the stairs. Miguel first checks her up and down as she walks away and then asks if she used to live in some town, or something along those lines, because she looks familiar to him. After the woman says no and walks off, Miguel goes off into some story about her being with some guy who cheated on her and was really obese. "Se hace la pendeja," he told us because he in fact knows her. The best part is, as we drive away, we drive by a couple kissing in the street. When I say drive by I mean at about 2mph so that Don Miguel can get a glimpse at who it is because he thinks the guy is a married professor at my school.

2x1 Sushi nights (Tuesdays and Thursdays). The empanizados are the best, con mango...que rico...

2x1 Tacos al pastor nights (Monday nights)...que rico...

They just cleared away the brush along the main street I live near, Ruíz Cortines, and now you can perfectly see the entire bay every time you walk by.

Things to do:

Through the wonders of Snapfish.com I will compile a group of photos that I feel best have represented my stay here in Acapulco, i.e. friends, bars, food, restaurants, the beach, the sunset, my apartment, to make a poster collage. Any other ideas? More music videos perhaps? Done.

Apply for jobs in Washington, D.C. Go to the gym and stick with it. Take French Saturdays at 8:00am and stick with it. Eat healthier. Go to the beach more. See more of Mexico and/or Centroamérica if possible. Write Obama about canceling all student-loan debt. Read more. Follow Judson's weight-gaining wonder diet and eat one PB&J sandwich before bedtime.

(Some of these may or may not conflict with one another)

Another day off in Acapulco...

2008-10-27T16:42:00.001-07:00

I am very sad to informar everyone that my distinguished and ilustre colleague, Mac Book, has died. Therefore, I am left to either subir upstairs to the cibercafe donde me cobran 8 pesos por hora (around 50 cents) to use Internet or try the laboratorio de computadoras en mi universidad which frequently don't funcionan. Actualmente I'm at my boss's house using her home computer. I suppose not having access to the net or cable is actually a "blessing in disguise" (I use quotes to distance myself from any possible value in said refrain apart from the figurative) because it forces me to read and... read some more. Sin embargo, se dificulta taking photos since I have nowhere to upload them and also making music on Garageband.

Currently I'm juggling two novels, one a collection of essays and interviews about the student movement of 1968 here in Mexico and another about the "anexation" of Mexican territories in the 19th century by the U.S, "Mexico mutilado". I bought a third at the Feria de Libros in Mexico City but know I can't start it just yet until I at least semi-finish the first two.

It's another hot humid day and I wish I would have gone to the beach. I went yesterday and got a bit quemado. On the way to the casa de mi tutora I saw another crucero in the bay presumably dumping a load of turistas to spend money in restaurants, the malls or the various puestecitos that line the streets anxiously awaiting customers. (On my street there are various clearings between houses and businesses through which you can see out on the entire bay) If only I had binoculars and a clear view from my apartment... Reminds me of my grandparents house whose home in Baldwin Hills of the Los Angeles metropolitan area had a clear view of the city with the Hollywood sign in the background. My brother and I would use their telescope to follow police sirens and spy on people.

I walked to the school to use their Internet only to learn that there in fact are no classes today because of the holiday; the day Guerrero became a Mexican state. Gives me another day to catch up on lesson planning, translating and painting. Watching America is the news website that translates foreign news articles into English to provide a different perspective on U.S. current events and politics. As for the painting, I'm taking an art class down on the Costera and have just started working with oils. My first work will be of a photo I took of a tiny street in Evora, Portugal last year. Hopefully it turns out).

Some of the things that I've failed to blog about include the recent elections that took place a principios of October. I went to two sponsored fiestas by two of the candidates for presidente municipal of Acapulco, Añorve and Walton, almost getting ejected from the latter because I showed my Az driver's license and it was closed to the public. The candidates all had parties in different clubs for the younger constituency to "Rock the Vote."

The most interesting thing I suppose that I'd like to touch upon is my experience as a "mixed" person living here in Acapulco where there is quite a diversity in regards to racial phenotype of the inhabitants. In the U.S. of course I am always questioned about my background; if I'm latino, Brazilian, Saudia Arabian, half-Black/half-White, Puerto Rican, Dominican... Because a simple "I'm Black" won't do, I am forced into details every single time. Of course I like sharing my Cape Verdean heritage but not necessarily when I can expect a "Huh?" or "Where?" almost every single time. Here in Mexico it's at least more direct and to the point. "You're not Black" is the usual response that I receive here revealing the difference in racial categorization that exists between the U.S. and México. It's that they're ignorant but that for them Blackness is more related to the color of one's skin. One student, who is perhaps a few shades darker than I, says to me, "I´m black, you're not." Another is surprised to learn that Beyonce identifies as Black because of her light complexion. I plan on providing some lessons about Blackness to challenge their perspective giving my own experience to exemplify that race in America is a lot more complicated than some of them think. (I do self-identify as Black but also in other situations or contexts identify as Cape Verdean, or gay, a type of schizophrenia identitaria that we all realmente possess).

In relation to race in America, a few students, and I presume there are more, have curiously learned the N-word and used it in my presence. Not directed at me but to refer to black people in general. I would like to include on of my conversations to demonstrate its usage:

Me: "I´m not sure you want to use that term" (bracing myself for a discussion on black identity in the US and gathering my thoughts)

Ismael: "Why there's no niggers here. Do you see any niggers?" (again it hits me over the head like a bag of bricks leaving me dumbfounded)

Me: "Um... (again blindsided by his matter-of-fact use of the word) de hecho yo me identifico como afroamericano, osea, "black"..."

Ismael: "No eres negro...eres moreno" (in other words because my skin color isn´t dark enough, literally negro, I don´t classify as black)

Me: "Pero es que en los eeuu ser black no se refiere al color de la piel sino a un grupo social... Y es MUY importante que entiendas que no se puede usar ese término, osea, en serio es RE-importante que entiendas su fuerza..."

Ismael: (saying something like:) "Okay, okay tranquilo, tranquilo" (obviously paying more attention to the fact that I was visibly upset than to what I was trying to say)

The other two friends who used the word did so unknowlingly of its context but this person specifically seemed to be fully aware of its value. Although none of them have experience of visiting or living in the U.S. Needless to say, hopefully my presence as an African-American can help the students to better understand the black experience(s) in America.

To end this entry I would also like to note that I am moving to a different place yet to be found with hopefully roommates, less humidity and bugs and a little bit more space... and probably for less dinero.

Happy early Halloween and Día de los Muertos para todos.

Important Going Ons

2008-09-18T20:32:00.000-07:00

I'd first of all like to direct everybody's attention to the top-right of this webpage to the "Fulblogs" section, which includes the blogs of other Fulbrighters if you want to check them out. They're probably a lot more interesting than my entries...

So I'm starting to gather more hours as I organize my schedule with some of the other teachers to see how best I can help with their classes, which will help keep me busy. I've also become more comfortable traveling around recognizing the correct amount that taxis should charge me to get around, which buses to take to get to the beach, passing the centro, and back up, and even how to take the micros further up the mountain to get my haircut in the estética where my "personal trainer" from my gym's girlfriend works.

My apartment is a little bit lonely but I at least have some interesting neighbors upstairs, studying to be dentists, who entertain/teach me with their vulgarisms in Spanish. The landlady is very nice and always eager to help me when I have to go tocarle la puerta because the water is out (She then has to go up to the roof to pump the bomba). The electricity has been out a few times but these are things that I really could, and do, whine about. Who really needs warm water when it's humid as $%&! outside anyways. I do have two beds so technically I could be enjoying the experience with someone. However, as I experienced from living in Guadalajara sharing a room with Deyanira in the "guest house", as long as there is another space to go for private time it's doable; with this set-up not so much.

And now I arrive to the most important part of this blog entry, which is why I decided to start writing instead of watching Frontline, or cleaning up the fruit flies around the trash can I just massacred with Raid (which is also dangerously close to my sink, dish rack, electric stove and trash can), or reading Ciudad de las Bestias by Isabel Allende. On Tuesday the sun was shining bright for a change so I thought I would take advantage and take the bus down to the water. I got off at the zócalo (centro) to purchase a towel for about 6 dollars then was on my way. Arriving at the Costera, the avenue that lines the coast along the bahía, I crossed the street and began my search for a nice spot to lay down and soak up some rays. Let me mention that along the way I picked up mango con chile on a stick, no sé cómo se le llama, reaffirming that it's quite possibly the best food combination ever created. But getting back to the story I happened upon a crowd of people surrounding one of the drainage pools that empty out to the ocean (y la neta no sé lo que es exactamente que se vacía por estos drains o ditches aparte de basura tirada). I asked one of the bystanders, "¿Qué pasó?" somewhat guessing what her response would be. To satisfy my curiosity I peeked through the lines and noticed what seemed to be a body floating in the water (Warning: link contains graphic imagery). Yep, she was right había un muerto, with blue basketball shoes. Although the water was clear as day, his face was turned towards the sand as was his body. There was an ambulance parked up on the street overhead and, as I walked away, two police officers were approaching the scene. And there goes my first experience with a corpse. I suppose the calm nature of all those standing around gazing on at the joven in the pool of water led me to also take on a similar tranquil reflection of the visual. Continuing on down the beach I found a spot to lay my towel and watch the waves.

Put things into perspective?

One of my students from the Universidad Autónoma de Guadalajara (UAG) reminded me that even this death is overshadowed by the news from Michoacán (news clip here en español and Yahoo news article here in inglés) where an explosion apparently killed 7 and wounded a hundred others in Morelia during the Mexican Independence Day celebrations on September 15th.

Now that I've contributed to the fear and paranoia about violence this side of the border some uplifting news-- my friend George is coming to visit me this weekend so I'll try to be a good host demonstrating everything I've learned thus far about the city. He'll be my first official visit, although he is another Fulbright grantee living in Mexico City (and my roommate at the Geneve hotel during end of August orientation). Further good news: the ETA (English Teaching Assistants) coordinator Jessica Quiroz tells us that not only will the Educational and Cultural Affairs Office in the State Department be giving all of us a set of books including an Oxford picture dictionary but also there are plans to possibly arrange some type of enrichment workshops in Mexico City with all Fulbright ETA's from around Latin America.

This brings today's entry to a close and I will try to increase my blog production a pesar de que nadie lo lee. Oh well, perhaps it's more personal than anything. For those of you who successfully got this far, te lo agradezco...pero no. You know I had to reference Alejandro and Shakira.

Just in case anyone wants to call me, here is my information:

Mexican cell phone number: 744 123 9926

Skype Tucson number: 520 762 7164

(Through the wonders of modern-day technology, Skype allows me to assign myself a Tucson number that then calls my computer when I'm connected to the program)

Jueves Poselero

2008-09-04T20:47:00.000-07:00

Writing blogs is so tiring as in me cuesta mucho empezar y convertir mis ideas en palabras, and think about what I should or shouldn't write about. I'm still staying with my tutora (the teacher I'll be assisting), a middle-aged lady who did her doctorate in Manchester, England but who's from a small town in the north I believe of Guerrero state. Today she was telling me how the planes used to fly over the pueblo incomunicado every week and the kids would try and chase them. They spoke a "different" Spanish in that town she tells me. Just one story she's told me since I arrived. Yesterday, I met the students and teachers at the school in which I'll be teaching, la Universidad Autónoma de Guerrero (Acapulco Campus).

A couple students asked me if I was single, which of course started the others in the class off hooterin' and hollerin'. Another asked if my parents were Mexican. Most of those who spoke spoke very well English. I was rather surprised. One of the students, Cristian, actually had lived in Phoenix for some time and I swear he spoke almost perfectly.

So twice I've happened to get a ride with a taxista that has lived in the US for some time. Miguel Ángel (¿miguelángel?) told me about how the police stopped him 3 times except the third time he "lost" them. The subject came up because I asked if there was a seatbelt, which a lot of cars and taxis don't even have here. So I told him basically to be careful with my life and we got on the subject of Acapulco drivers. Turns out he got in a car accident in the states that he swears wasn't his fault. From the collision he was hospitalized and after a few months had to come back to México.

Another taxi driver, whose name escapes me, showed me some photos that he keeps in his glove compartment of him and his son living in Oklahoma. They were pictures of them fishing because apparently they lived near a lake. He also had a random photo of a local news anchor taken off the television who was so "buenota" he had to take a recuerdo of her home. In Oklahoma it was just him and his son as they had left his wife and daughter hence they decided to come back.

Current Mosquito Bite Count: 10...oh wait 11

Number of times lost: 2

Number of times assalted: 0 (just kidding, but knock on wood)

Just a little bit about Acapulco... It's all constructed from the coast up into the mountain, or cerro, so walking down to the beach, about 30 minutes, is pretty easy. However, going back uphill is a different story, which is why there are varios camionetas that charge about 3 pesos to drive you back up, as well as the old public buses. The metropolitan area is divided into Old Acapulco, where a lot of the older hotels are and also the famous cliff divers, while New Acapulco is around the mountain near the airport and further down the coast. I havn't seen too much of the more modern section of the city but I do remember passing a Costco and a really nice shopping plaza.

Acapulco is definitely not as big and spread out as Guadalajara, which has a population of somewhere around 6 million depending on the source you consult, so hopefully I'll be able to memorize and get to know a lot of the neighborhoods and colonias.

Orientación Fulbright

2008-08-30T23:27:00.001-07:00

Currently, I'm on the second floor of my hostel in one of the lobbies, Mexico City Hostel to be specific. There's this couple on the sofa to my right reading a novel in Spanish. She's foreign I believe but her special friend is reading to her out loud in a very poetic seductive voice. I'm hungry and I may walk to the 7-11 down the street before going to bed. The others Pete, Victoria and Mari are already asleep. Today we did a lot of walking around Chapultepec Park, then to the zoológico to see all the depressed encaged animals, taking their portraits of course, and later to meet up with the marcha ¨Iluminemos México¨ contra la inseguridad y violencia. (Y Aquí tienen un video clip de la manifestación en YouTube) Apparently they feel Calderón isn't doing enough to squelch the "desorden." Everyone sported white attire to show solidarity and so we couldn't help but join in. Naturally it seemed like a good cause (who isn't against violence?). However, it did seem odd to us that a good percentage of those silently protesting seemed to be of middle to upper-class. At one point we passed a spectator standing off to the side holding a sign made of cardboard that said, ¨The worst form of violence is economic violence.¨

A lot of images exported to the states through movies, the news or heresy a lot of times get it completely wrong because this city is a pretty amazing place (and I don't mean to discredit all the positive perspectives). Of course one cannot deny the violence or crime rates, hence the aforementioned manifestación, but I say don't let that be the motivating factor to erase Mexico City off your list of places to visit. I even wish that I would have been placed here instead of Acapulco so I could really get to know D.F. The good thing is that it only lies about 3 hours away via Carretera México-Acapulco.

Usually, I'm not one to obsess over food and how such and such spice mixed with such and such random vegetable put together with whatever meat was so amazing and emblazoned my taste buds BUT... the tacos here are, and Judson you would appreciate the usage of this word, delicious. Down the street here by the hostel is a nice little place, frecuented by many, which is a very good way to tell if Moctezuma will have his revenge or not, sells tacos de adobo, papas, frijoles y no sé qué más. Then on each table was a mix of guacamole y salsa, no me acuerdo del nombre, but although hot very good. They cost about 3 pesos each. Needless to say I don't have to worry too much about the relationship between my hunger and my bank account, I can be a bit less frugal (cheap).

I know that I started this blog talking about "Tonight..." or "This night..." but that was a few days ago seeing as I've been a little lazy about writing. So currently I'm sitting next to Mari, Pete and Victoria and we all have our laptops out in the dining area. Several other fellow hostel-ers have commented that we look like Starbucks, oh well. We're just passing around photos, updating blogs, sending e-mails before our last day tomorrow in México (that's how they call Mexico City for short in México) when we have our official orientation.

In future blogs I'll try my hardest to match as much as possible words with pictures thanks to the wonders of blogging or photo-blogging. Or maybe I should just concentrate on writing at least once a week on here tanto en inglés como en español, aunque no entienden todos wups.

This photo was taken on the last day of the optional orientation, Friday el 29 de agosto 2008, of just the English Teaching Assistants, a whopping 4 (sorry Areen!).

New Journeys

2008-08-15T12:42:00.000-07:00

My time in Bowling Green, Ohio came to an end this week on Monday, the 11th and admittedly I was a little sad to say goodbye ...not so much to the town but maybe to the memories of the house on 518 Leroy Avenue, my roommates with whom I spent my year abroad in Guadalajara, friends that I made while studying in Alcalá de Henares, Spain during the summer of 2007 and those I met back on the campus of BGSU. It feels as though many things have came full circle in my life, such as returning back to Alcalá last summer and living with the host-family that hosted me 4 years ago, being back here in D.C. to pick up Mike for our road trip back to Tucson and, lastly, my Fulbright grant which will take me back to México, albeit a different region. Moreover, today I ate lunch with Alma Luisa, an old friend from Tucson and former CatCrew partner, who currently is employed with a women's hispanic magazine. On my way back I ran into my friend Genesis' ex-boyfriend Chris who looked completely different from what I remember (I met them while I was attending American University Fall Semester of 2005). It just seems that a lot of things are taking on a theme of repetition, and not in a bad way. Definitely, I could picture myself living in D.C. and I'll keep it in mind after finishing my grant in Acapulco.

So our road trip officially begins tomorrow morning, the 16th of August, 2008, as we head off to Atlanta, Georgia to stay with my friend Tre for two nights. This is a city to which I have never had the luxury of visiting. I look forward to experiencing it, especially since Tre has talked it up so much. Hopefully, I can provide photos to post to perhaps convince others of what I conclude about the city.