Tuesday, January 25, 2011

The Switzerland of Mexico

Dateline Guadalajara: I have two more weeks of intensive Spanish classes, then I will be leaving Guadalajara. I like this city quite a lot despite it being the second-most polluted city in Latin America (Lima, Peru is in first place). However, the guesthouse I'm living in is booked for February, and rather than scratch around for something else in the city, I've decided to take another track.

About 80 miles south of Guadalajara is a little mountain town called Mazamitla. At 7300 feet in elevation, this charming little town is known as "the Switzerland of Mexico" (except I don't think it ever snows there and I don't think the banks will help you stash your dough away from the IRS...).

I've found a cabin in the woods about a mile from the town and plan to live there for a few months. The house is surrounded by pine and other trees, has a little creek running by, and, well, not much else. Inside the one-bedroom cabin is a fireplace, a fully-stocked kitchen, modern plumbing, hot and cold water, and hopefully adequate Internet service.

Those of you close to me know that my precious cat Midnight went on a hunger strike about two months after I left San Francisco. Only through the heroic efforts of H, Hope, Luke, Matt, Beth, and Mike has she passed back into the world of the willing to live. I am happy to report that Midnight seems to be on the mend and is returning to her meowy self, albeit slowly.

My cat's illness clarified some things for me. I will be touring less and studying more this year in order to complete my MBA as soon as possible. I have turned in ten essays so far this month (only approximately 200 more essays and a thesis to go!) and hope that I can turn up the production, isolated in my little cabin in the woods. I believe that's also what Jack Nicholson's character said in The Shining...

For continuing my Spanish language lessons, well, as far as I know, I'll be the only gringo up there, period. Spanish will be my only means of communication outside the internet.

For exercise, just walking to town and back will be something of a challenge, as the area is very hilly. For a hike in the woods, all I need to do is open my front door, and turn left, right, or go straight. And I have asked about borrowing an axe to chop firewood and make kindling. My friends in Guadalajara are already laughing about my new "mountain man" status.

And I'll have the motorcycle for those days I want to go get groceries, or if I get tired of doing my laundry by hand in the washbasin out back. Or go on a 160-mile round-trip to a movie theater or bookstore. (Actually there's a Walmart only about 50 miles away. Too bad I have a typical liberal's attitude toward Walmanrt...)

I was chatting with a local about the size of Mazamitla, and I was told that the town has six taxis now, a point of local pride. And the annual flower parade takes close to a half-hour now, and not only because of disorganization.

I'm both a little scared, and a little excited, about moving from a city of 5 million to a cabin in the woods some distance from civilization. But there's a hammock in the back yard, so how bad can it be?

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Catching up - who says I don't blog in a timely fashion?

A feliz Navidad in Guadalajara
I am sorry I haven't connected with everybody on this blog since the end of November. My December in Guadalajara and Puerto Vallarta and Phoenix and San Francisco went by pretty fast.

For most of the month, in Guadalajara, I went to school every day, did my Spanish homework and Sustainability studies, and enjoyed exploring Guadalajara in my free time.

My Spanish is better, I'm approximately 15% finished with my Green MBA program, and Guadalajara is pretty cool, despite taking over from Mexico City as the most polluted city in Mexico. (Mexico City has been working on their pollution problems for 25 years and has met with some success. Guadalajara hasn't created a new park since 1982.)

In December, Guadalajara was is a state of constant fiesta. Mexico observed its bicentenial last year, as well as the centenial of their proletariat Revolution. These epochal events were celebrated with music in the plazas and art in the streets. My favorite art exhibit was when they closed a street downtown for two weeks to dump a slab of building wall into the street – purposefully damaging the street – in order to show... well, I dunno what the reason was, but it was definitely different to see a piece of art posing as the result of an earthquake. Another exhibit of note was the piece of art that resembled a dog frozen in a block of ice. Again, I didn't catch the meaning behind the symbol, but I do admire the passion to exhibit art that's a little out there. I can't imagine closing Mason Street or Sansome and digging it up to embed an art installation.

And of course, during the Christmas season, the city is hopping, with outdoor concerts, dancing, decorations and street art and multiple Santa Clauses – often several in a one-block radius.

Guadalajara is a big, ugly, pretty, smelly, dazzling, ancient, modern, crazy, loud city. There are a bunch of pedestrian malls and open plazaa in the Centro Historico, more or less the city's saving grace. Outside the pedestrian areas, crossing the street is a deadly game, typical of anywhere in Mexico. There are a few brave souls on bicycles, but the vast majority ride buses and take the metro. And hustle between the cars. Jaywalking is not a crime here, but neither, I think, is running someone down in your car.

Fun in the sun - swimming in the ocean the week of Christmas
Just before flying to the States to celebrate Christmas and New Years', I went with fellow students on a school-sponsored trip to Puerto Vallarta. PV is of course a notable beach town, pretty as all get-out. Besides the miles-long beach and swimmable ocean, there is a beachfront boardwalk, perfect for strolling away the evening. One of the students, an agriculture major from Texas, took to climbing trees to pluck the fruit and share with the rest of us. It would work this way: Mickey would disappear for a minute, then suddenly it would rain guayabas or apples or coconuts.

I finally had a confrontation with the police, resulting in economic loss. One evening in Puerto Vallarta, we were walking the boardwalk, trying to decide where to eat. With five of us, it was slow going, and at some point my bladder was going to burst. I stepped off the boardwalk and visited a secluded, invisible spot on the beach and relieved myself. Walking back up a set of stairs to the boardwalk, I was greeted by two of the local police force, asking what I was up to down there. Without thinking, I told the truth. Big mistake. They took my driver's license and discussed my sentencing. They told me that they'd have to take me to Zihuatenejo, some four hours away, for processing, it would take all night, etc etc. I kept saying, sure, No problem! I'll tell my friends not to wait for me, and let's go! Where's the squad car?
The officer told me three times that we could "take care of the fine" right here and now before I finally gave in. His initial bid was for 900 pesos, around $80 US. I wonder how many Americanos pay that kind of money, I wondered. I crossed my arms and said nothing, until he got to 500 pesos. I said my upper limit was 100 pesos, and after some wrangling, I paid 200 pesos to get my damned drivers license back.
Now I have two drivers licenses - my old one set to expire in March, and its replacement. Since I don't need the old one anymore, I figure this is a license to piss...

Landing a sweet habitacion in Guadalajara
When I first got here, I stayed in one of the many cheap, clean hostels in the city center. The first night, the hostel was completely full, overfull even, because of a holiday weekend. Five beds were placed more or less side by side in my room, each occupied. Fortunately, everyone decamped the following morning, and the hostel became blessedly quiet. The dorm room I shared with five guys became my private room... until at about 10 pm, when some dude was introduced into my formerly private room.

This guy was one of those can't take no for an answer types - He dragged me to a bar at 11:30 on a Monday night. I bought a beer for each of us, but he finished his in five minutes then bought four more beers. Though they were for “us” it didn't take much to convince him to drink all four beers while I finished my single beer. When I thought I had spent enough time sitting around an overloud underpopulated bar against my will, I got up tl leave, hoping to ditch him in the bar. Unfortunately, he tagged along, demanding we stop at a little snack shop on the way back to the hostel. He had six gringas - kind of a small quesadilla stuffed with meat. He bought me one, convinced I should quit being a vegetarian after 25 years.

And back at the dormitory he talked until I pointedly asked him to stop – it was either that or take a shovel to his head. Within a minute he was snoring so loud that no earplugs in the world would have had any effect.

Oh, hostels, what a wonderful world of entertainment...

Anyway, the next day I busted ass, saw about five places and found my own quiet, private room in a three-bedroom house run by a 50-ish couple. I have my own bed, my own closet, my own dresser drawers, for the first time in almost three months. And relative silence, for the first time since I left my niece's house in Tucson.

If you want to see this charming little house, some good pictures are at escapeguadalajara.com. In November-December I stayed in the green room, and now I'm in the yellow room, smaller but not in direct sunlight in the afternoons.