Dog Bites and Bee Stings

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  • Oaxaca is a Vibration

    I went for a great long walk through town today and thought to myself: “What an opportunity I have to live in this cool place for a while. I had better make the most of it. I really don’t want to waste this time I have here…but that damn phone. Learn more Spanish to have a deeper experience. Meet new people who can take me places I would never go myself. Live cheaply so I can get as many days here as possible.”

    So I’m formulating a plan to stay in Oaxaca as long as I can and put further travel on the shelf because this is what I was looking for. It exists in other places too, this good feeling, but it costs money to get there and I’m already in a cool place. I can have such a rich experience here. I can come back a better person, I thought. Then I thought, do I really care about that? Anyways…be where your feet are, bird in the hand, etc. etc.

    As I was writing that previous line, I heard a siren in the distance. “Maybe a little fire somewhere,” I thought. The siren got louder, then it was in the house, then it was in my bedroom. Blaring, loud noise…okay, okay. My first thought was “This is a test of the emergency system” type shit and then the house started shaking. Just a little earthquake coming through! The siren continued on and I thought I heard my name being called. “Oh, maybe if this is serious, Sylvia, my AirBnb, host would want to make sure I’m okay.” I pop up from my chair and see her and her son Omar standing in the little driveway inside the gates of the house looking up at my window. 

    “Down?” I point and they nod, with concern in their eyes. I run out of my room and down the stairs and out of the house and stand with them in the driveway. We stand there for a while but the moving and the shaking had stopped. 

    “So if I hear that noise again, come down?”

    “Yes,” Omar says.

    “Okay. And what if I’m out and about when that happens?” I asked if there were any green meeting spots like I used to see on the sidewalks in Mexico City 

    “Just…” he starts with no real advice on that question. “Stay away from fences.”

    He explains that Oaxaca is crazy with much tectonic activity.

    “Well, it’s a good thing there aren’t many tall buildings here,” I say, always seeing the positive side of things.

    “Yes, now you see why there aren’t tall buildings here,” Omar responds. Touché.

    I ask if we are all good, “Todo bien?”, and I return up to my room. I hear Sylvia laughing for the next five minutes and I think she might be laughing at my stupidity or my lack of alarm. Fair enough. I am a newbie to this stuff but damn, it came and went in like five seconds. We were good! But yeah, I know nothing of how to react to an earthquake. Great name for a natural occurrence, that. Maybe my reaction is the same as someone thinking they will drive their crappy car easily down the street in a lake-effect snowstorm. 

  • Week 1 News and Notes

    • In TJ: I ate a hot dog from a street vendor. I love the idea of eating street meat, but its usually intimidating with the crowds and the language barrier and the obvious gringo. I did a little walk by on a taco stand I had heard about, and it was at the intersection that the internet said it would be, 4th and Ninos Heroes. Fight or flight, I chose flight and went on walking but found an empty hot dog and hamburger stand and ordered a hot dog. “Un poco español, si, si.” He was cool, on the phone with someone as I ordered and he prepared. “Con todo?” “Si.” So let’s see what I get, one with everything. He took it from a little warming station that probably wasn’t warm and literally put the dog on the grill for two seconds. No worries. It looked to be wrapped in bacon and he piled on some mayo, tomato, ketchup, and mustard. Forty pesos, so like two or three bucks. It was fine. I could have had six, or a dozen to be honest.
    • In TJ: A happy moment happened to me just now. I am at Nelsons on Revolution having some beers before my flight and the wind had been hitting for long enough for me to say “It’s windy!” I felt chilly, and the happiness that having my hoodie in my backpack brought me and the happiness that the thought of putting it on brought me is probably a problem. I don’t know why but if stuff like that makes you so happy, I don’t think you are doing too well. I was born for hoodie weather. 
    • In OAX: I thought of Jim Harbaugh today. While he was coaching Michigan, he was asked how the team was coming along in fall camp. He responded by saying he wanted the team to be one percent better today than yesterday and tomorrow he wanted them one percent better than today. That is how I am looking at my knowledge of Oaxaca, and so on my second day, I can say with full confidence that the proportions of the buildings and streets is beautiful here. Whatever the measurements are, they got them correct. The buildings are at a pleasant height and the streets are at a cozy but not cramped width. The combination of these two factors, along with the cobblestone roads, create a very nice, even magical, atmosphere in town.
    • In OAX: Knowing Spanish in Mexico is important, but that is not the only language being taught here. There are many indigenous languages used in the state of Oaxaca and the one I am most fluent in is of the folksy white person from northern United States. I dropped an “Ope” on someone today. These locals must hear it often with so many white people around. To the Oaxaqueños, I would explain “Ope” as “Sorry for inconveniencing you in any way, I’m going to change that and get out of the way as soon as I can, and we’ll both be on our way, thanks.”
    • In OAX: Saw a guy walking down the street today wearing flip-flops and dragging his feet. I thought “That is the most ‘I stay in hostels’ guy I’ve ever seen.” He was short, pretty thin but a little chunky and he knew it. Mostly clean shaven, says things like “I need to shave” as he rubs his face, but he loves my beard. “Dude, I wish I could grow one like yours!” What did he do last night? “Dude, I went out walking and found this little bar and got shitfaced, they loved me there.” Plans for today? “I’m thinking about renting a car and going up into the mountains for a few days actually.” My response to that would be “Nice, dude!”

  • Day 5 – Eat Tacos, Get Lost

    My early impressions of Oaxaca: I thought it was going to be a cool place and it has exceeded my imagination. A clutch rebound after the BRICK that was Tijuana. There are quaint little shops everywhere you go here. Things smell good, they smell loved and well-cared for like my mother’s house. The people seem relaxed, living at an easy pace, not out to get each other. Early impressions though…subject to change. It has a big hipster vibe and there are many old retirees (white) and dirty hippie backpackers (white with red hair and sunburnt skin.)

    I went out this evening with the intent of finding food and ended up at Tacos Roy. I’m an amateur judge but the corn tortillas were too big and they didn’t use two of them like they do in CDMX. The taste was still great. You think they have their arguments about taco preferences down here the way eaters back home have arguments about blue cheese vs ranch? Yeah, I’d say so and they are probably just as annoying about it too.

    On my way back to my lodgings, I saw a hot dog stand and said why not. They didn’t have change for my 50 peso bill so I told them to keep it. You can destroy some street vendors change with a big bill but fifty is not a big bill. The gringo gets scammed again! And the woman who took my money put her hand in an empty hot dog roll bag and used it as a glove when she took it from me. And I said, biiiiiiiiiii….no I didn’t but I was like damn yo, disinfect it too while you are at it. I took a few bites of the hot dog and then spilled a bunch of toppings on my hoodie. They put so many toppings on their hot dogs here. I think it’s just fun to pick up bottle after bottle and spray something on there. It’s like adding a bunch of ingredients to chili, makes you feel like a chef.

    After the dog I started a leisurely journey home and stumbled onto some night markets. Hats and crafts – all mass produced garbage, not a craftsmen in the bunch I’d guess! And then I saw big tents with bright lights and large signs listing food for sale. The grills were filled with meat and tortillas, I was thinking “Damn, this is where the real Mexicans eat!” The benches were packed with customers or just friends and family waiting to go home. They’d probably spit on me if I sat down or put me on their Facebook page and I’d be a meme on the Mexican internet in no time. I’ll get there one day. 

    I walked out of the market and back on to the streets. The sun had already been down and things started to look unfamiliar. I straight up got lost as hell with no internet service for a good half hour. It’s a giant grid this city, everything looks the same. If you use “the big old church” as a reference point, well that turns into a problem because there’s like six big old churches.

    Made it home, good adventure.

  • Day 4: Leaving Tijuana

    On way my way to the aeropuerto…

    They would have skewered me in this neighborhood. So the money I paid la policía just went to police criminals instead of street criminals. (More on that later.)

    There is something so intoxicating about this place, about the Spanish speaking world. It’s so scary when you don’t know what they are saying to each other but it’s so fun, it’s so chaotic. Buying deodorant or buying a chip for your phone goes from yawning to extreme focus and hoping things go in your favor. I don’t know, there’s something about this place I love even though I am the most outsider you could be. It doesn’t make any sense to be here but it doesn’t make any sense that talented people of the world drive themselves crazy going to work every day in terrible jobs. I’m rambling now.

    The prices make me shit bricks too, I’m not good with conversions off the top of my head or I just don’t trust that it won’t be more than what they say but numbers here are in the hundreds and thousands sometimes and I’m like…I don’t know if I can afford that. Going to the airport now. Will pay to carry my bag on, praying the person at the front desk will help me. They want my money after all. And then a taxi ride at night to my bed in Oaxaca with no cell phone service because you have to register as a person to have a phone here now which sucks. I’m trying to hold it together today but it’s been tough. My brain is not always my friend and I don’t know why. Maybe a therapist can help me.

  • Day 3

    My experience in Tijuana will be ending on Wednesday. I am leaving town, going to Oaxaca de Juarez, in the state of Oaxaca. That’s pronounced “wah-hahk-ah” I think. It’s sort of a hippie town probably filled with people “finding themselves” and getting cultured with Indigenous peoples. I’m excited to be going there. I hear the food is amazing and I hope to try some.

    Tijuana provided me the opportunity to cross the border by walking and I really enjoyed that experience. Everything else was just hectic and a bit scary but generally okay. This hostel has been good to me. I’ve met people from Turkey, France, and Atlanta. Good people and good introductions and I wish them well. There is one guy who stays in my room of six beds and I think he’s been in bed for eighteen hours per day for the last three days. It’s sort of incredible. I said hi to him a couple times with no response. Also, my bed linen never got changed. It truly doesn’t bother me but seems odd that other beds in the room got changed and cleaned. Perhaps I have bad vibes. There will be more stories from Tijuana, I just have to take the time to write them properly. Onwards.

  • Day 2

    I looked at my phone today around 10:30 am. Free breakfast at the hostel ended at 11:00, so I walked down five flights of stairs to the lobby. In the breakfast area, three old Mexicans were sitting at a table drinking coffee and conversing. I saw the coffee pot and some mugs and jars of sugar and cream on a table across the way and walked over to pour myself a cup. The woman of the house came up and asked me something about desayuno. On my way down to the lobby just before that, I was debating if the word for breakfast was desayuno or almuerzo. In Spanish, she asked “Do you want some breakfast?” I assumed she asked “Did you have any breakfast?” I replied no, and she looked confused so she asked again and I said “Oh, si, quiero desyauno! Donde?” She pointed towards the window. I sat at a little bar looking out at the street, drinking my coffee, and leafing through a National Geographic from 2004. Soon, she brought out some fruit covered with yogurt and granola sprinkled on. Healthy, not my first choice, but thankful for it nonetheless.

    The hostel where I am is the top floor of a little hotel, Hotel Paris, near the main drag of Downtown Tijuana. The woman at the front desk gave me a very cold reception when I showed up yesterday. She wanted a deposit of two hundred pesos in cash. I told her I had no cash and that I had paid my deposit when I made my reservation. “No, Hostelworld is not me” she said with an eye roll. Okay, I’ll go out and get cash and be right back. Is there a bank nearby? Oh, right it was Sunday. Wait, there’s ATMs everywhere in Mexico and they are always available. She had no patience for me, only frustration. I think she switched to Spanish and confused me just to mess with me when she had already shown she spoke English. I had read reviews of the place and had seen her mentioned as being rude. The internet was correct. Thankfully, she gave me my towel, which the deposit was for, and let me go to my bed in the dorm. I dropped my things and went out looking for an ATM. I brought her her precious two hundred pesos. “Muy rapido,” she said with a smile. Ah, when the money appears so too does the friendship.

    I have made my rounds already, walking up and down the street, checking out the area. I feel preyed on by the shop owners, very much like it is in a beach town. “Amigo! Leather belts, cigars. Nice cigars for you, my friend!” To be fair, it is a beach town, just a few miles away from the water, and a border town too. I can see the United States from the roof. The area might have been cool in the 70s or 80s but now it’s run down, dirty, and just a little shady. It’s as if I decided to cross into the US and spend a few days in Niagara Falls. A questionable choice.

    After breakfast, I sat on the sunny patio on top of the building and read. A girl came through and we said hello. She had dark hair and a darker complexion than my ginger ass, so I thought she was Mexican or maybe from California. She laid out on a pool chair across from where I was reading. It looked like she wanted to tan and I figured she definitely wanted privacy but I waited for her to say something and continued reading. Soon she sat at the table near to where I was reading and we introduced ourselves. She said she was from Turkey and was volunteering at the hostel for two months. I want to do the same thing, at hostels located in “not Tijuana”, so I was very intrigued. Her Spanish is as bad as mine, “un poco español.” She showed me pictures of her hometown in Turkey and I showed her pictures of snowy Buffalo I had taken Saturday. Soon, she had to go and we said our goodbyes.

    Now, I write and it is windy on the patio but the sun is bright and plans are forming for my escape from this town.

  • Day 1: Midway Airport

    I’ve never been “guy who is getting some work done on the laptop while at the airport” but I am at Midway in Chicago doing exactly that. Im in a cafeteria that I came across while walking to my mysterious Gate A4A, which feels like a ten minute walk from the rest of the airport (“It’s a long walk, isn’t it!?” says one Midwestern mom to another one while heading towards the gate.)

    I’m on my way to San Diego. I plan to cross the border of Mexico by foot and head into Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico later today. My plan is to travel from Tijuana to Patagonia, way down south in South America. I have six months in mind for a time frame, but honestly, who knows. Send me some money and I’ll keep writing and traveling!

    This is Day 1. Welcome.

  • An American’s Duty

    I have done it – I have completed my income tax return. It took a lot out of me, especially towards the end when the confusing and vague questions built up and my patience faded. Do I want to donate to the Presidential Election Campaign? I swear, the audacity to ask us that question. Do I qualify for this tax break or that one? I don’t know, I’m guessing, and I don’t want the IRS to attack me! Imagine a world where we didn’t have to do this. Tax us less and what tax money you do get, use it wisely. A man can dream.

  • Music Rules, Football Drools

    The Patriots are in the Super Bowl again. Football is a dumb sport not designed with the happiness of Bills fans in mind. Poor design, in my opinion. I cannot fathom looking at any sports related junk online today. The only good thing about the internet is Chris Luno videos on YouTube. He is a German DJ who apparently rocks the house every time out. I have never been to Germany nor have I ever seen a DJ perform live but one day I will get to Berlin and lose myself in the club scene. Don’t come looking for me. 

  • Sunday Morning

    It is snowing in Buffalo. I sound like a broken record when I say that. I think we are getting hit by a storm today but I’ll believe it when I see it. My mom and I went out to breakfast this morning to the Original Pancake House. I ordered some chocolate chip pancakes, which were phenomenal. My mom ordered hash and eggs with two pancakes on the side. She couldn’t finish the hash and offered some to me. She said she usually has no problem finishing her food, and I disagreed. “You always take leftovers home,” I told her. I guess we see things differently. We had as much coffee as we wanted, which is always nice and always turns into too much coffee. Now I am back home on a lazy Sunday morning. Life is good.