Beautiful gilded clouds at my Tuxtepec Family's ranch
Cows at that ranch
Maried and Angel playing in water
A hare
Cows
Chococat
Me, a man, Angel, Maried, a boy, and Alice (from France)
The swimming hole at Zuzel
Exchange students there
More
The river leading away from the spring
Exchange students and Rotarians at the top of steps
Cloud hole above beer factory
Australia?
From a distance
Fascists?
Not a fascist
These are all cute children marching in the independence day parade, by the way
Gigantic tree in the park
Chubby boy
Fascists?
Scenes from the river passing through Tuxtepec, taken from a pedestrian bridge
Sun and branches
Palm tree in a garden at the beginning of the pedestrian bridge
My house in Tuxtepec
My Tuxtepec Family: Edmundo, Me, Maried, Marisela, Eddy
Me and Eddy
Parrot
Toucan
Living room type placeThe night of Friday, September 12, me and the other two exchange students in Mina, Claire and Marlene, left at 3 AM for Tuxtepec. I had slept since 4 PM the day before, so I spent the bus trip slipping in and out of light sleep, listening to beautiful music, and watching the sun rise. We were alone with all the strangers on the bus, and none of us understood (and we still don't understand) why we left at such a rare hour. We arrived at the bus station in Tuxtepec at 7 AM Saturday morning.
The reason for our trip was the first district meeting for all the inbound Rotary Exchange Students. Our district includes all of the state of Veracruz and part of Oaxaca, (essentially nothing more than Tuxtepec in Oaxaca, I believe) and thus there are approximately 70 "Intercambistas" in the district. As far as I know, we were the first to arrive (except for those who live in Tuxtepec of course). About ten minutes after arriving, a few Rotarians arrived, and we were sent off to our respective host families in Tuxtepec. After arriving at my host family's house and spending the morning getting to know them, we went to their ranch, about a half hour into the country.
My family, first. There are 5 of them, but one was missing. I spent the first bit of time talking to the son, Eddy. He has his father's name, Edmundo, but is called Eddy. He is 15, and lives in an apartment in Cordoba because he's studying at a tech-prep school there. I am unclear on what this "tech" business means. He likes the Beattles and Cream and Metallica and Led Zepellin and Black Sabbath. His parents also like the Beattles a lot, and everywhere we drove, we were always listening to music at a fairly decent volume, of a fairly decent caliber. The year before, Eddy went to school in Dublin, Ireland, at a boarding school for boys run by a religious organization called "The Legionaries of Christ" or something like that. Amira, his 12 year old (I believe) sister is now in Dublin with I assume the same program. So he speaks English, more or less. His hero is John Lennon and he is a pacifist. His parents wanted me to try to convince him to study things other than music, because he has been obsessed with music for a long time and apparently does nothing but practice. He has no teacher and no band, because these things are hard to find here. He goes to an expensive far away school because the schools in Tuxtepec are apparently all corrupt. Teachers take money, alcohol, and candy for grades. Their perception that he is not interested in things other than music is plainly false. He loves watching National Geographic and is fascinated by nature. If he is not putting effort into his schoolwork it is only because of the still poor quality of his teachers and materials.
Later, Eddy disappeared for a while, and I was left with Maried. She is a brilliant little girl of indeterminate age, who showed me various things of interest around the house, like all of her "Stephanie" things. Stephanie is a character from some television show, Lazy Town or something like that. More importantly is Chococat. I'm not sure if it is just childish Spanish pronunciation, but that is a damned cute name. He comes with a pencil and you can draw on him and erase it with your finger. Eddy drew a peace sign on his forehead and Maried yelled at him "He's not a peace cat!"
The house itself is pretty wonderful, with a giant toucan room and a hallway alongside it, in which sits a small white parrot cage for a green parrot. The birds are noisy and move around a lot. They seem to not want to be caged? In the dining room area, there is what looks like a fountain, with no water, covered in small potted plants and such. Across from it there is a painting of lilies and a brick enclosure full of soil, with a few large plants growing in it. My room had three beds and a big mural of nature behind my bedboard.
We went to the ranch with a few of my family's friends, and after eating a bit we went down to the river, or stream. It is about hip deep, with a strong current, and cold. It is perpetually uncomfortably hot here, so swimming in cold water is always an attractive prospect and good idea. I missed my chance to change, so I swam in my clothes. The current was strong, and I sat loosely on the rocks or grabbed on to them and let my body drift.
We returned to the ranch and had a slow night. More friends had arrived, also hosts of an exchange student, Alice from France. We ate a little and watched clouds and cows until late. The children had been playing all day in this little wash basin full of water. There were some magnificent clouds in the sunset. These little bugs were illuminated by the sunlight as they floated out of this big hole in the ground.
We went to a Rotary dinner after changing into dry clothes, and met all the exchange students for the first time. It was small and thick with people and I ended up not talking to many people. We didn't do anything that night except eat. None of us understood why we'd left at 3 AM to arrive at 7 AM for a 9 PM meeting.
The next day we left fairly early and had a group picture and got on buses. The buses took us to a swimming hole, a natural spring of cold water. Half of us swam and half of us played soccer, and then we all swam. On the way there we saw hundreds of magic trees in a variety of contexts. There was one really idyllic spot fenced in by the road on one side and a fence on the others. A stream ran over the road and through the field, and horses, bulls, and chickens chilled all around.
The next day we went to a brewery, apparently the second largest in Mexico. It was a Corona and associated beer friends brewery, by the way. We started outside in this hot air and were bussed a very short distance to an air conditioned building. There we watched Corona commercials (I mean this in the most literal way), and an "informational" video about the company (propaganda). I don't understand in the least way why these kids were cheering at beer commercials.
We went through the factory, it was hot, and it was boring. Then we went to the part where we couldn't take pictures, which was the bottling section I guess you'd call it. There were giant conveyor belts of empty and full beer bottles. It smelled bad and was loud. Then we were bussed outside the compound and back in again to what looked like a village. There were houses and a playground and a swimming pool. We ate nearby the pool and they gave us all free beer. Everyone had at least two that wanted it, I believe. I was surprised. They showed more commericals and then gave us all T-Shirts. I didn't take one. I didn't drink the beer either, for that matter.
When we left, it happened that our bus was without adults. So they pulled down the rain shields, as it had started to rain and wind pretty hard, and then started smoking and making out and dancing. It was weird. I didn't realize we were allowed to smoke. Apparently we are though.
This whole trip exemplifies a trend in Rotary that some people don't acknowledge and others exemplify; that being alcohol. Throughout all of our training and any interaction I've ever had with rebounds or younger Rotarians, all they talk about is drinking. The older ones will make jokes about it with certain kids sometimes too. To be clear, I'm not just talking about Mexico. I don't get it, and I was disappointed I had to waste a day at a beer factory. They asked us not to take pictures of each other drinking, but that definitely happened. Before we left, they took us to a gift shop, where we could buy more beer shirts and merchandise. I also still don't understand how companies convince people to pay them to advertise for them.
That night, we went to "El Grito," the traditional Mexican indepedence day celebration. We gathered in the square under the big building where the Rotary hall was and yelled. They have a certain ritual about it, but it involves yelling "Viva!" a lot. The exchange students were the craziest group in the area, I'm sure. We were running back and forth and jumping up and down and yelling and chanting and dancing. Mexicans kept looking and laughing at us and asking for pictures. Being an exchange student is all about posing for pictures. No. 2 activity after drinking, maybe. It was raining, also. Everyone wore Viva sombreros and waved flags and had horns. The horns were obnoxious and great. Someone passed out a bunch of paper ones and we blew them in a stubborn and painful manner for far longer than we should have. My ears were ringing that night. They were also shooting off fireworks from literally right above our heads the whole night. They had trouble because of the rain, but it worked every once in a while, so they were well spaced and constand. There was a band playing up there as well, although they were out of tune, they were loud and had a lot of beating drums. I was surprised to find myself jumping up and down and chanting "Mexico" in rhythm and blowing a paper horn. When I got home, I found I'd painted my shirt and pants with fireworks ashes and running red papier mache paint from my horn.
The next day we watched the parade. The parade is very lackluster and fascistic to me. Every single school in the city marched all of its children, of all ages. They for the most part didn't play instruments. There were a few bands, but they just played reveille on valveless horns to simple snare beats. The rest marched to whistles from student or adult leaders. They all march very strangely. It's exactly like the videos you see of Soviets or Nazis, with the arms and legs straight and the arms out parallel to the ground, swinging back and forth. There were a lot of cute kids though, and one time a dog walked out into the street and weaved his way in between the students marching along. We watched the parade from that promenade the band was in the night before, overlooking the park. There is one absolutely gigantic tree in that park.
After the parade had passed by our spot, we joined into it, right behind the firemen (who oddly did that same fascist march). We were in a mass, a mob, unordered and without leaders. An anarchist microcosm, as they always point out. The other groups had heirarchy and leaders and emblems, but we yelled our chants spontaneously, initiated by whoever, and the shape of the group constantly changed, as people dropped back or moved forward. People were always yelling "Viva (country)!" and we would yell "Viva!" We also had a couple of Intercambista chants, or maybe just one and a bunch of Brazilian soccer things. We go "Intercambistas!" to start it, in a rhythm to a melody, and do the chant back and forth like this:
"Intercambistas!" (exchange students)
"Soy yo!" (I am)
"Intercambi-i-stas!"
"Soy yo-o-o!"
"Intercambistas Intercambistas Intercambistas!"
"Soy yo! Soy yo! Soy yo!"
"Cuarenta y uno!" (41)
"Noventa!" (90) (we are district 4190)
"Viva Mexico!"
"Viva!"
The reason for our trip was the first district meeting for all the inbound Rotary Exchange Students. Our district includes all of the state of Veracruz and part of Oaxaca, (essentially nothing more than Tuxtepec in Oaxaca, I believe) and thus there are approximately 70 "Intercambistas" in the district. As far as I know, we were the first to arrive (except for those who live in Tuxtepec of course). About ten minutes after arriving, a few Rotarians arrived, and we were sent off to our respective host families in Tuxtepec. After arriving at my host family's house and spending the morning getting to know them, we went to their ranch, about a half hour into the country.
My family, first. There are 5 of them, but one was missing. I spent the first bit of time talking to the son, Eddy. He has his father's name, Edmundo, but is called Eddy. He is 15, and lives in an apartment in Cordoba because he's studying at a tech-prep school there. I am unclear on what this "tech" business means. He likes the Beattles and Cream and Metallica and Led Zepellin and Black Sabbath. His parents also like the Beattles a lot, and everywhere we drove, we were always listening to music at a fairly decent volume, of a fairly decent caliber. The year before, Eddy went to school in Dublin, Ireland, at a boarding school for boys run by a religious organization called "The Legionaries of Christ" or something like that. Amira, his 12 year old (I believe) sister is now in Dublin with I assume the same program. So he speaks English, more or less. His hero is John Lennon and he is a pacifist. His parents wanted me to try to convince him to study things other than music, because he has been obsessed with music for a long time and apparently does nothing but practice. He has no teacher and no band, because these things are hard to find here. He goes to an expensive far away school because the schools in Tuxtepec are apparently all corrupt. Teachers take money, alcohol, and candy for grades. Their perception that he is not interested in things other than music is plainly false. He loves watching National Geographic and is fascinated by nature. If he is not putting effort into his schoolwork it is only because of the still poor quality of his teachers and materials.
Later, Eddy disappeared for a while, and I was left with Maried. She is a brilliant little girl of indeterminate age, who showed me various things of interest around the house, like all of her "Stephanie" things. Stephanie is a character from some television show, Lazy Town or something like that. More importantly is Chococat. I'm not sure if it is just childish Spanish pronunciation, but that is a damned cute name. He comes with a pencil and you can draw on him and erase it with your finger. Eddy drew a peace sign on his forehead and Maried yelled at him "He's not a peace cat!"
The house itself is pretty wonderful, with a giant toucan room and a hallway alongside it, in which sits a small white parrot cage for a green parrot. The birds are noisy and move around a lot. They seem to not want to be caged? In the dining room area, there is what looks like a fountain, with no water, covered in small potted plants and such. Across from it there is a painting of lilies and a brick enclosure full of soil, with a few large plants growing in it. My room had three beds and a big mural of nature behind my bedboard.
We went to the ranch with a few of my family's friends, and after eating a bit we went down to the river, or stream. It is about hip deep, with a strong current, and cold. It is perpetually uncomfortably hot here, so swimming in cold water is always an attractive prospect and good idea. I missed my chance to change, so I swam in my clothes. The current was strong, and I sat loosely on the rocks or grabbed on to them and let my body drift.
We returned to the ranch and had a slow night. More friends had arrived, also hosts of an exchange student, Alice from France. We ate a little and watched clouds and cows until late. The children had been playing all day in this little wash basin full of water. There were some magnificent clouds in the sunset. These little bugs were illuminated by the sunlight as they floated out of this big hole in the ground.
We went to a Rotary dinner after changing into dry clothes, and met all the exchange students for the first time. It was small and thick with people and I ended up not talking to many people. We didn't do anything that night except eat. None of us understood why we'd left at 3 AM to arrive at 7 AM for a 9 PM meeting.
The next day we left fairly early and had a group picture and got on buses. The buses took us to a swimming hole, a natural spring of cold water. Half of us swam and half of us played soccer, and then we all swam. On the way there we saw hundreds of magic trees in a variety of contexts. There was one really idyllic spot fenced in by the road on one side and a fence on the others. A stream ran over the road and through the field, and horses, bulls, and chickens chilled all around.
The next day we went to a brewery, apparently the second largest in Mexico. It was a Corona and associated beer friends brewery, by the way. We started outside in this hot air and were bussed a very short distance to an air conditioned building. There we watched Corona commercials (I mean this in the most literal way), and an "informational" video about the company (propaganda). I don't understand in the least way why these kids were cheering at beer commercials.
We went through the factory, it was hot, and it was boring. Then we went to the part where we couldn't take pictures, which was the bottling section I guess you'd call it. There were giant conveyor belts of empty and full beer bottles. It smelled bad and was loud. Then we were bussed outside the compound and back in again to what looked like a village. There were houses and a playground and a swimming pool. We ate nearby the pool and they gave us all free beer. Everyone had at least two that wanted it, I believe. I was surprised. They showed more commericals and then gave us all T-Shirts. I didn't take one. I didn't drink the beer either, for that matter.
When we left, it happened that our bus was without adults. So they pulled down the rain shields, as it had started to rain and wind pretty hard, and then started smoking and making out and dancing. It was weird. I didn't realize we were allowed to smoke. Apparently we are though.
This whole trip exemplifies a trend in Rotary that some people don't acknowledge and others exemplify; that being alcohol. Throughout all of our training and any interaction I've ever had with rebounds or younger Rotarians, all they talk about is drinking. The older ones will make jokes about it with certain kids sometimes too. To be clear, I'm not just talking about Mexico. I don't get it, and I was disappointed I had to waste a day at a beer factory. They asked us not to take pictures of each other drinking, but that definitely happened. Before we left, they took us to a gift shop, where we could buy more beer shirts and merchandise. I also still don't understand how companies convince people to pay them to advertise for them.
That night, we went to "El Grito," the traditional Mexican indepedence day celebration. We gathered in the square under the big building where the Rotary hall was and yelled. They have a certain ritual about it, but it involves yelling "Viva!" a lot. The exchange students were the craziest group in the area, I'm sure. We were running back and forth and jumping up and down and yelling and chanting and dancing. Mexicans kept looking and laughing at us and asking for pictures. Being an exchange student is all about posing for pictures. No. 2 activity after drinking, maybe. It was raining, also. Everyone wore Viva sombreros and waved flags and had horns. The horns were obnoxious and great. Someone passed out a bunch of paper ones and we blew them in a stubborn and painful manner for far longer than we should have. My ears were ringing that night. They were also shooting off fireworks from literally right above our heads the whole night. They had trouble because of the rain, but it worked every once in a while, so they were well spaced and constand. There was a band playing up there as well, although they were out of tune, they were loud and had a lot of beating drums. I was surprised to find myself jumping up and down and chanting "Mexico" in rhythm and blowing a paper horn. When I got home, I found I'd painted my shirt and pants with fireworks ashes and running red papier mache paint from my horn.
The next day we watched the parade. The parade is very lackluster and fascistic to me. Every single school in the city marched all of its children, of all ages. They for the most part didn't play instruments. There were a few bands, but they just played reveille on valveless horns to simple snare beats. The rest marched to whistles from student or adult leaders. They all march very strangely. It's exactly like the videos you see of Soviets or Nazis, with the arms and legs straight and the arms out parallel to the ground, swinging back and forth. There were a lot of cute kids though, and one time a dog walked out into the street and weaved his way in between the students marching along. We watched the parade from that promenade the band was in the night before, overlooking the park. There is one absolutely gigantic tree in that park.
After the parade had passed by our spot, we joined into it, right behind the firemen (who oddly did that same fascist march). We were in a mass, a mob, unordered and without leaders. An anarchist microcosm, as they always point out. The other groups had heirarchy and leaders and emblems, but we yelled our chants spontaneously, initiated by whoever, and the shape of the group constantly changed, as people dropped back or moved forward. People were always yelling "Viva (country)!" and we would yell "Viva!" We also had a couple of Intercambista chants, or maybe just one and a bunch of Brazilian soccer things. We go "Intercambistas!" to start it, in a rhythm to a melody, and do the chant back and forth like this:
"Intercambistas!" (exchange students)
"Soy yo!" (I am)
"Intercambi-i-stas!"
"Soy yo-o-o!"
"Intercambistas Intercambistas Intercambistas!"
"Soy yo! Soy yo! Soy yo!"
"Cuarenta y uno!" (41)
"Noventa!" (90) (we are district 4190)
"Viva Mexico!"
"Viva!"
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