Guanajuato Day 13

Last night’s thunderstorm was magnificent, but made sleep difficult. The kids slept through it all, but these tempests always stir the soul for me. Living in the desert as we do they are welcome change of atmosphere; the electricity snapping, calling my dendrites to attention. I love the experience but it made for a groggy morning of conjunciones de moda.

We taste some wonderful homemade ice cream on the way home from school and my stomach survived both the street vendor’s enchiladas de las mineras and an apple from the mercado which I ate with skin on. (I like to live dangerously). We have yet to do any major sight seeing, although all sights are new for the kids and just the experience of hearing the language, whether on the streets or the Disney channel, seems to be helping in class. One of their teachers remarks how smart they are (who, my kids?), how polite they are with each other (what, my kids?) and what a delight they are to have in class (you’re kidding, my kids?). I guess they have the Jekyll & Hyde thing going on. They’re not fighting the homework anymore and it all seems to come easily to their little sponge brains. Pretty soon they’ll surpass me, subjunctive and all. But I guess that’s the plan.

Having this family is an extra bonus, with the two girls, there’s always the opportunity to chat, the senora and her grown children are good for a discussion of something or another, so I don’t mind, missing the museums right now. I’ve heard some of the host families aren’t as hospitable, so I feel fortunate for the room service, good typical meals (except today when they ordered pizza because the senora had to go to a funeral) and friendliness. I also love how they all live close together, unlike so many of our nuclear families back home. Hanah spent the afternoon playing jumprope with the girls on the roof patio.

I am more and more aware of this town as a center of government and tourism and how this is a particular kind of Mexican experience. Were I in Mexico City, a beach town, or small pueblo, it would be different, just as the U.S. has a many subcultures. I feel ever the outsider, especially as I power walk up the hill to school in the morning, past the local’s casual ambles, with my backpack filled with the family’s umbrellas, water bottles and cameras, ever the tourista. I would love the opportunity to live and work here, find the carniceria, lavanderia, biblioteca etc. and blend in as much as my gringa looks allow. In conversation class we get to discuss many of the cultural differences between the States & Mexico, but I feel more of the universals when I look around me. How families matter, how people look groggy in the morning on the march to work, how construction workers stand around at break time eating their taquitos, admiring the women, how kids enjoy the same computer games, how seniors navigate the streets with care, how dog poop everywhere smells like shit and a baby’s smile anywhere warms the heart.

We talk about what’s going on in Lebanon/Israel and throw up our collective hands that things will ever change. The teacher notes that they never have Bush admirers attending the school and we’re not surprised since so few of his party seem to have any interest in life beyond our borders. And I fear that this is what will do us all in, this lack of understanding that humans are the same everywhere. Just look at the children. You can teach them hate as easily as love and acceptance. And don’t get me started on the word “ tolerance.” It should only be applied to a stomach-ache, not a race, people, sub-group or belief system.

Michael took this picture from our rooftop, looking down the steep callejon. Even from this distance you can feel their connection.