Dancing is Good For You

One Thursday evening my friends and I were walking through "El Centro", the town center of Cuernavaca. We came across a live band playing in the "kiosk." While the sky threatened rain (it always does that time of evening), the band played excellent dance music. Couples were dancing all around the square among the vendors, young girls wearing simple aprons with necklaces for sale slung on their outstretched "display" arms, carts with hot corn chili powder and lime, fresh fruit, balloon vendors holding on to large bunches and shoe-shiners.

I was struck by the elegance and majesty of one dancing couple. The man wore a white straw fedora and a white starched cotton shirt with sleeves rolled up past his wrists. HE KNEW HOW TO LEAD HIS PARTNER! The woman was full of grace, very smooth. Her white sandals accented her nimble feet, and her pink skirt added just the right amount of color for dusk.

Often, when I make my way to the town center, there is dance music playing on a speaker system in the square and there are plastic chairs set up in rows or a circle. This is called the dance social. Last week Laurie, Brenda and I recognized one of the dances. It was the Cumbia. Originating in Columbia of endegenous and African slave influences, the Cumbia is a coursthip dance. Last Wednesday an excellent dance instructor taught us the steps of the Cumbia. I believe that dancing helps stimulate brain cells and the whole body becomes invested in the learning process. I feel certain I spoke better Spanish that day!

My friend Sam knows the importance of dance for the well-being of body and soul. Having suffered from multiple sclerosis for aobut 30 years, Sam is now without movement in any of his limbs. Before I left for Mexico I went to see him. Always unselfishly looking out for the well-being of my body, soul and marriage, Sam said he contributed to my sabbatical fund for tango lessons. Maybe we both thought he was joking at the time, but I took him seriously. It has not been difficult to find dance in Mexico. Thank you, Sam. It was money well spent.

Mis Maestros (My Teachers)

Gorqui was my first Spanish teacher. He is from Ecuador and has taught in the after school program at Grace Church for five years. As has been the case for all of my Spanish teachers Gorqui demonstrates a calling as a teacher: he is dignified and respects his students. He commands the respect of his students because he is in command of the subject and the methods he uses to get the point across. His first priority is that his students learn.

The dry erase board and markers have been set up in my livingroom for months. My frist class with Gorqui began last September in my house with friends from Grace. Gorqui filled the board with fun Spanish words, not so fun Spanish words, conjugations I still don't get and drawings that describe the words when words don't work.

Estela was my first teacher in Mexico. She appeared the first day of school in the classroom with her tin box of flash cards. She used these cards with me to teach me the difference between the two verbs in Spanish "to be." Estela is a very proud teacher and Mexican woman. That first day I "choked" on my entrance exam and she knew exactly how to begin to teach me. Estela wasted no time.

Andrea was my teacher for two weeks. Her teaching style was organic. At times she would get up at break and motion for me to follow her (she even taught me the gentle way Mexicans motion to follow - hand at the side all fingers making a backward scoop like motion, rather than the "come hither" finger motion we use.) We would wander around the neighborhood where she would ask me questions and wait patiently while I scanned my brain to find the words to string together for an answer. I felt a kinship with Andrea because my niece's name is Andrea and because Andrea is the same age as my youngest sister - within a few days!

Janet was a very young teacher. Intellegent and beautiful, Janet had just finished a week one-on-one with a very young man from Texas who was forced to take two months of language immersion in order to graduate from college. As the weeks wore on, he wanted to be in class less and less. I don't know how teachers function when the student doesn't want to be there. Janet was my teacher the week after she taught this young man. I learned the word "cumplianos" that week because Janet turned 26.



Javier was my last teacher in the school IDEAL. He also makes a living taking photos for weddings, baptisms, quinceanos, first communions, etc. Javier had wonderful stories for us. I invited him to visit John and me in the United States because he has a brother in San Diego. He told of how he travels to the United States even though it is very difficult for Mexicans to visit the United States. He says he can get a very cheap flight from Mexico City to Tiajuana. Then he carries his lunch with him and walks across the border to San Diego. He says it's much easier to walk that to fly.

I thoroughly enjoyed learning from Yuri last week. Her father is a painter and teaches painting in Mexico City. We enjoyed talking about art, literature and movies. She knew exactly what I was interested in and used my interests for teaching. I've decided to arrange for one more week of Spanish instruction next week before John comes for a few days. I hope to have Yuri again.

This week I am learning from Alejandro. His passion is history and so is mine. We talk a lot about our families. His daughter is six years old and is already drawing flowers and making pretty jewelry. I think she is an artist! Today Alejandro taught the class how to make a pinata. He had the large clay pot hanging from a string from the awning on the patio. We decorated it with traditional paper and symbols. Pinatas were originally Chinese and were brought to Mexico by the Franciscans to be used as a devise for teaching Christianity. (I took good notes and would love to try to make one with our children when I get back.)

There are so many others whom I call teachers: Evelia and her daughters, Bishop Delgado, Rodolfo, Beti, the priests I've met here in the diocese, the patient taxi and bus drivers, the waitress at VIPS the local diner, the vendors in the market places and the students. Last night after evening prayer we sang hymns from the new Spanish language hymnal while Jaimie played the guitar. We sang so much that I almost lost my voice. Jaimie has planted an Hispanic parish in Austin, Texas. I'm learning from Jaimie, too.

It´s ¨Suave¨not ¨Suerte¨ Confundo!

Yuri is my new Spanish teacher this week. On Tuesday she took me to the pyramids of the ancient Toltecas, Teopanzolco. The pyramids are located very close to the Diocese of Cuernavaca. Yuri parked her car at the site and as we got out I told her about Omar the teacher who told us last week that it is not good to slam the door of the taxi. I said it is better to close the door ¨suerte.¨ She looked at me with puzzlement. She told me that I had just said it is better to shut the door with luck. Yuri very gently said, ¨Carolina, I think you mean ¨suave¨ (softly).

I am always confusing words in Spanish. On Wednesday I asked Beti, the woman who prepares delicious meals for us three times a day, if I could take her picture. I asked her to be taking something out of the oven. The bishop and my friend Rodolfo heard me and burst into laughter. They explained to me that I just asked Beti if I could take her picture in the oven.

For an adult (this adult!) learning a new language is an adventure. I´ve often laughed at things that happen along my learning curve. (Yes, sometimes I want to go to a corner, suck my thumb and cry!) But I have been surrounded by gentle friends who help me keep good humor. Immersion in Spanish has been a voyage back into childhood, grade school. It´s not for the faint hearted. I must remind myself, ¨poco a poco¨ (little by little). Baby steps, milk before solid food (thanks, St. Paul!). Yes, the tears have come when it is too frustrating and my head just can´t take anymore new information. But as in childhood, learning a new language in the company of compadres is also to experience playfulness, humor and safety.

The best part of my immersion experience is the reminder that human beings have a great capacity for humor and hospitality. All over the world these two human characteristics thankfully often override ugly exploitation of differences. I have been surrounded by Mexicans who are gently cheering me on, coaching me casually in the kitchen or in the marketplace, nurturing me and helping me speak the best Spanish for my capacity. They have pride in me. It´s like I´m the little sister they are bringing along. And they are family.

Tomorrow, we rise early for an excursion to Mexico City and the Museum of Anthropology. I can´t wait.

Saying "A Dios" to one school and "Hola" to the Diocese of Cuernavaca

Friday was my last day of class at the Escuela IDEAL. I have made friends with some of the teachers and students and I'll miss them very much. I hope they visit John and me in New Jersey.

To my surprise on Friday I was "triste" (sad) and wept when I said good-bye to the director, my teachers, my friends, the cuatro mujeres, and my Mexican "mama" (Evelia).

I took one last photo from Evelia's balcony outside of the "nest" I had made for a month in her house. I would be taking photos of my next stop, the Diocese of Cuernavaca for the next four weeks. But I wasn't thinking about that on Friday. I was only sad to leave. I remember now that this used to happen to me when I left after a week of over ngith camp when I was a kid. The last night was always very emotional with many good-byes and I would always weep. I never wanted to leave my current nest! Not even to go home when I was a kid!

Cuernavaca has been a mix of delight and reality. The people are friendly, yet sober. My favorite part of this sabbatical has been delighting in the Mexican people who have become my friends. There is a certain formality that is essential in a budding friendship with the people here. I don't mean a stiff Anglo Saxon kind of formality. It is a formality of respeto, respect of the humanity of another person; dignity. For example, our teacher, Omar, a young and exhuberant Mexican man explained to us that it is not so good for us to slam the door of the taxi at the end of our ride. It is much better to say good-bye and thank you. Then shut the door suerte, gently. Many Norteamericanos, from United States and Canada jump out and slam the taxi door. Muy fuerte!

Another mix of delight and reality is the pretty broken glass embedded into the top ridge of some of the concrete walls that divide property. The glass glimmers in the sunshine and is clear, amber, yellow and green. But it's not there for decoration. It is there for protection. Some people use broken glass shards embedded in the top of their walls. Others use chicken wire or razor wire on top of their walls. I have not experienced crime at all in Cuernavaca. And I have in Plainfield. But I can see that crime must be a problem in Mexico because the people live behind concrete walls and locked exterior gates.

I am now living on the close of the Diocese of Cuernavaca. I met Bishop Delgado on Saturday and his right hand man, Rodolfo. Their hospitality has been magnificent. The diocesan center was at one time a boy's home. On Sunday, Bishop Delgado invited me and another priest from Texas who is on sabbatical here to church Sunday afternoon. The bishop is vicar of this church in Alpuyeca, San Marcos. The bishop runs the diocesan center and the language school as well as serving parishes that have no priest. Or he fills in for priests on vacation. I took a photo of the dear people of San Marcos and the bishop because each person came up to me, spoke to me and hugged me before they left.

So, there are faithful Episcopalians here in Mexico! On Sunday morning I went to my first Episcopal service at the cathedral, St. Michael and All Angels in the center of Cuernavaca. The bishop phoned ahead to tell Father Francisco I was coming, another example of hospitality. I was happy to meet Father Francisco, his wife Norma and two children that morning. What a joy to find my church home in Mexico!

Pyramids and My Last Week at IDEAL

I have a new suitemate from Indiana. She is a social worker in the public schools. She and my other suitemate speak Spanish very well and I´m learning by speaking with them. I was describing to my new suitemate the sounds I usually hear in Evelia´s garden. I told her I really liked the sound of the ¨canarios.¨ I described the chirping, the cooing sound I hear at night. My suitemate is very outgoing and friendly. She kindly informed me that the sound I was hearing was from tree frogs. I don´t think I ever knew that birds don´t ever chirp at night. I am learning something new every day!

I´ve now visisted two ancient pyramid sites (piramide). Teotihuacan is the ancient city of the famous, most influential indegenous population in Mexico. The site was settled around 200 B.C. It lasted until about 850 A.D. when something, maybe famine or overpopulation caused the population to collapse. The Spanish conquistadors evidently did not find this grand city even so close to Mexico City, so they did not crush the piramide del lune (of the moon) and del sol (of the sun). I climbed the little pyramid in the ancient ¨commercial area¨. There were indegenous dancers the day we visited.

Last weekend, I took a trip with my suitemate from California to the nearby Tepoztlan. She had studied Spanish in this town six years ago. While she visited her friends I climbed the 10 meter (straight up, no switchbacks) very rocky mountain, Tepozteco. There is a pyramid at the top. Some people have fallen to their death climbing this pyramid! I did not climb it. The mountain climb was bad enough. I sometimes took 4 or 5 steps and then had to rest. It took me about 90 minutes to climb the thing. But the pyramid was beatiful and so was the view. This pyramid was influenced by the ancient Teotihuacan people (most indegenous people were). It was built around 1200 AD, but the Aztecs destroyed the population around mid 1400.

Tomorrow is my last day at IDEAL. It has been a wonderful school and this last week I studied with two other classmates. Javier is our teacher and he has shared some really interesting cultural things with us. We discuss poverty and wealth in Mexico and the differences between Estados Unidos (The United States) and Mexico. He is about 34 and is the youngest of 10 siblings. Two of his older siblings live in the United States. I invited Javier and my other teachers to come visit us. This weekend I move to the Diocese of Cuernavaca where I´ll meet folks from the Episcopal Church for two more weeks of classes.

Correction to the Date of Independence and Going to Church

First let me first correct the date of Mexican Independence. It is September 16, not September 10. I was thinking of the year, 1810 when I wrote the date. My apologies! (Dates sometimes elude me!)

Going to church in Mexico has been one of the most interesting experiences I´ve had here. A week ago I went to church for the 7:30 a.m. service. After about 15 minutes, Maria came to the mic and said that the priest was still at home and that she didn´t know when he would arrive. I waited 15 more minutes. He finally arrived at 8:00 a.m. and quickly vested although he didn´t wear a stole. He was smiling and charming and very young. It didn´t seem as though he thought he was late. I thought he was very late.

Last Sunday I attended a large church close to the center of town. The neighbors told me that la misa started at 11:00. I rode the bus and arrived at 10:15. I knelt and prayed. I read the mass and I studied irregular verbs while I waited. The service began at noon with a full house of people of all ages. There was incense carried by a young boy. There was a young girl carrying the processional crucifix. The processional torches were huge and two young boys carried them with great ease. I thought of Celeste, Stephen, Nii, Michael, Jason, Edward, Molley, Karmo and all my young friends who are acolytes at Grace. Young girls in red vests served as ushers.

The most striking thing to me about the churches I have attended so far is that there is no organ. The music is chanted by the congregation, a cantor and the priest. If there is instrumentation there are guitars or keyboards or mariachis.

Yesterday, while I was studying irregular verbs, I watched several men walk into church dressed in mariachi clothing. They were carrying their instruments on their shoulders. They set up off to the side in the nave in front. The procession began when the mariachis began to play and the cantor began to sing. There were two trumpets, three guitars of all sizes and two violins. The cantor played a guitar. They word black pants with traditional silver down the seam of each leg. They wore the short black jackets. I was able to sing some of the service music with them! The first day I was in Cuernavaca three people told me that mariachis played in the Cathedral for Sunday services. Mariachis provide an important musical role in the churches here.

Last Friday, the school attended a celebration for Cuernavaca´s 478 years. These years represent pre-conquest years. The city was named by the indegenous people, Cuauhnahuac, (Place on the outskirts of the grove). But the Spanish couldn´t pronounce the word and renamed it ¨Cuernavaca¨.

There were huge, brightly colored examples of ancient indegenous clothing at this celebration. One of the most wonderful words I have learned is orgullo. It means pride. There was a headress on top of one of the models with that word. Students from the language schools in Cuernavaca received awards of excellence from the town council. There were also awards of achievement for many citizens. Afterward, there was traditional folk dancing and mariachis. (Two of the mariachi players were females.)

Independence Day

Last night we were awakened by driving rain and fierce storms. I have a new suitemate from California. At 3:15 a.m. I heard her call my name outside my door. Her door had blown open even though we are indoors. We were a little frightened.

It storms fiercely here many nights in the rainy season. There was terrible flooding in Mexico City this morning. But there was a reward for us in Cuernavaca. As I turned the corner from the hill and enetered the street of my school, there beautifully majestic was Popocatepetl looking as if it were rising from the street next to school in the bright morning sunlight. It´s rare to see the mountain so clearly. What a gift!

Last night a group of students and a teacher went to dinner at Marco Polo, a favorite local restaurant. We ate pizza! There was a student from Quebec who is a financial manager, two women from California, one is a nurse and is here with her daughter, an architect from Tucson and me. It was a warm evening, but we sat outside on the balcony and chatted with each other in Spanish. (It´s still slow going for me, but I´m just blurting out what words I know so far.)

I am aware that yesterday was Independence Day in the United States. I knew John was driving a vintage WWII military vehicle in the annual Chatham Fourth of July parade. He told me he was going to a picnic afterward. For the language students here, it was another day of studying. I did my homework and then joined some women in the afternoon to learn how to cook a special kind of rolled taco and fresh vegetable soup. Yesterday, I decided to wear very subtly red earrings, a white blouse and a blue scarf just to remember Independence Day in the United States. I am very unhappy with the current administration and have been since the confusing vote counting for the 2000 election. But I am an estadounidense and I am grateful for the abundance we have in the United States. I love my country.

The Mexican´s celebrate their independence from the Spanish on September 10. There is a real striving in the Mexican people to make strong families and to live right. Evelia works hard to create excellent, typical and healthy Mexican food for us and for her family. She is proud of the fresh fruit she can serve us from the trees in her garden and the vegetables from the local growers from the market.

Who is My American Neighbor?

Before I left for Mexico I read ¨The Labyrinth of Solitude¨. It is a collection of essays by Octavio Paz, the Mexican Nobel Prize winner of liturature in 1990. These essays introduced me to the culture and character of the people of Mexico. I learned some history about the ambivalent relationship the people of the United States and the people of Mexico have between each other.

On the flight to Mexico City I read a monograph produced by The Woodrow Wilson Center entitled, ¨Perceptions and Misconceptions in U.S.-Mexico Relations.¨ It is a collection of lectures by scholars, writers, politicians and business people from the United States and Mexico presented at a conference two years ago.

Currently, I´m reading ¨A History of Mexico¨, by Henry Bamford Parkes. John gave it to me before I left for Mexico. I just reached the description of the end of the Diaz dictatorship in this volume. I can´t say how I´d be reacting to Mexico, the culture and the people if I hadn´t informed myself. For example, I learned that fiestas are very important and happen very frequently for families, neighborhoods and cities. There are lots of fiestas on the weekends. Loud, happy dancing music is played and very often fireworks are ignited. Firewords are part of celebration in Mexico. But the first time I heard explosions, especially on the weekend at night, right in my neighborhood by Evelia´s house, I wondered what was up. In the United States there are laws against fireworks in most cities in the East - in my city of Plainfield, particularly. In the United States I ignited fireworks only at New Year´s and Independence Day as a teenager when it was legal! I´m glad I knew about the fiestas in Mexico ahead of time!

The other thing I am learning in Mexico confirms something we learned in Spanish tutoring class with Gorqui Chica, our teacher who is from Equador. He explained that we all are Americans - Canada, United States, Mexico, Central America and South America. Gorqui gave the class another word for ¨Americans¨- ¨NorteAmericanos¨. In Mexico, there is even a better word (however, there is no word in English), ¨Estadounidenses¨. Those who are from Mexico are Mexican. Those who are from the United States are ¨United States -an¨ See? There is no word in English!

I came to Mexico to learn Spanish because I wanted to stay in ¨American¨to learn. In my hometown of Kansas City, Kansas there was a Mexican community near my home. A few of my friends in High School were Mexican. I want to learn about my neighbors in America, in Mexico. And I want to learn about my Latino neighbors in the United States - in Plainfield. This sabbatical is helping me understand not only the language (I think I´ll only have a superficial use of the language - it is slow going for all of us!), but I am understanding the people more deeply than I ever expected. Thank you, good folks of Grace Church for this marvelous gift.