Hello Christmas

I take a moment in the predawn light of 7 AM Mexico to record Noche Buena - Good Night, or Christmas Eve.

Having become nocturnal about a week ago, I awoke at 5 PM today, ate a bowl of delicious granola with soy milk, and made no-bake cookies with my host mom. They turned out well, except that we lost a considerable portion of the batch to the Dry Crumblies. They'll be good toppings for something, like ice cream, anyway. After pissing away a few hours reading Sophie's World, I went to Mass with my family. This was the second time in my life I ever went to church, and I went only upon my father's strong recommendation. I assure you that my father is rarely wrong (otherwise I probably wouldn't have taken his advice) but he is still sometimes wrong. He was wrong tonight. Mass was boring, hot, stuffy, and had little redeeming value, aside from its brevity.

After Mass, however, we came home, accompanied by several other family members, including some aunts and uncles and both grandmothers. We ate pasta and they ate turkey, they drank tequila and whisky (none of the girls here drink, so why is it so odd that I don't drink? Girls are essentially half the population, aren't they?), and they made me play marimba solos three times over. After a few hours of discussion and new arrivals, which always warranted new marimba solos, they started dancing. I left soon after (around 3 AM, I believe), but they continued until almost 7 AM.

This, you will all realize, is a Long Time to dance, and it is not like what you probably did on Christmas Eve, which was probably to go to sleep early so you could wake up early and open presents. In any other year (any year I haven't become nocturnal over winter break), I would be waking up within the next few hours. Instead, I will probably sleep through most of Christmas day, waking up (I predict) around 6 PM. The sun is rising, and the birds are singing.

Guanajuato

Over the last weekend, a little more than half the exchange students from my district, including myself, went to the city of Guanajuato for the 2nd Annual National Gathering of Exchange Students in Mexico. Guanajuato is a city of about 150,000 and is the capital of the state of Guanajuato, located slightly north of Mexico City.

December 3 - Claire, Marlene, Capi and I left from Mina at 5:30 PM or so, in an ADO bus. ADO is really the only way to get from one city to another without driving there yourself. They are fairly nice buses, as buses go. On the way there, we watched "The Prince and Me 2: The Royal Wedding" and selections from a Steve Irwin show, in which he and several zookeepers moved a number of crocodiles back and forth among zoos and cages; notable if only for this approximate sentence: "I've got to say, Connie is the cleverest crocodile I've ever met!" which I shared with Connie upon our arrival in Orizaba later that night.

We arrived in Veracruz rather early; around 9:30 PM or so. We waited with other exchange students in a big parking lot outside a football stadium or something. I finished up Cosmos by Carl Sagan while sitting there, waiting for everyone to arrive and for the bus. After finishing, I started blocking out the floodlights illuminating the parking lot with my raised arms and squinting at the sky until I could make out a few of the brightest stars. The bus came, it smelt like shit and piss and cleaning solution as always, and we set out for Orizaba. The stars were particularly bright and clear that night, and I spent the entire trip gazing up into them as best I could. Orion is the only constellation I recognize.

Arriving in Orizaba, I saw Yana (our chairwoman)'s house, with a lot of white moving Christmas lights, and the park full of trees on the left. I went outside and stood in the cold and helped load boxes. It is cold there, because it is in mountains, but it is not really cold; just cold enough to be exhilarating. The Orizaba exchange students and Yana boarded the bus, and we set out for Guanajuato at about 2 AM.

December 4 - We woke up at a small chilly restaurant I believe was in Toluca - though I'm not certain. We ate cold bread and quesadillas or eggs and hot chocolate or orange juice. After breakfast, we watched 21 (about those MIT kids who played blackjack) until we got to the Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary in the state of Michoacan.

The bus took us to the top of a hill, at the top of a small town. After the parking lot, however, we passed through another "town" uphill to the Welcome Center. I am not sure it was actually a town, because I believe the people there lived down in the town below, and the buildings up there (all small one-room wooden boxes open to the street, unsealable) seemed to be just storefronts and restaurants. All the restaurants cooked on tiny black woodstoves shaped like half-barrels, with a dull silver smokestack lazily exhaling just above the food.

Numerous groups of very young children followed us and sang songs about love. Some sang well, but some did not. Others tried to sell a few random things, like gum and candy. There were dogs all about, as always, and even a donkey. Claire bought a styrofoam cup of blackberries from someone I didn't see, and I resolved to buy one on the way back down.

The trail up the hill from the welcome center was something like 630 steps, although near the top there are no longer actual steps - you are left with nothing more than a steep path. There are no butterflies near the bottom, but about halfway up you begin to see their trampled, dead wings lying in the dust, and then gradually the concentration increases. The trees along the way were gigantic, thin cedars (I believe), and in general the area looked just like Michigan in the summertime. It was warm and sunny, and the journey was tiring - we took frequent rests, and the group got entirely strung out along the path.

At the end of our climb, we reached this excessively idyllic meadow. We all collapsed on the ground, hoping butterflies would overcome their shyness and come to visit us. No one wanted to leave, but eventually we were made to continue into the forest. On the way, I talked to the man in the last picture, who was in the area for work and made the random decision to trek up the mountain in his work clothes. He spoke good, funny English.

This was the time the butterflies started to get thick. It was frustrating for those of us trying to take pictures because they were always big enough and plentiful for us to see, but they didn't show up in pictures until we got here.

And here, about 5 minutes into the forest, was the real thing. None of us had realized that it was going to get better, but here it was. They are all Monarchs, migrated from Canada and the US, and apparently they are attracted by fungi. The first photo there is a Monarch sitting on a rope next to two fungi put there to attract them for tourists. The second are quite normal tree branches, covered in butterflies until they are black and thick as beehives. And finally, Jade, with a butterfly on her lip. In this part of the forest, they are no longer skittish, and deliberately landed on us. Of course, everyone wanted photos, and they were extremely docile for those as well. One could pick them up by the wings or proffer a finger-perch, and put them wherever was deemed best for the twin ends of art and silliness.

Passing back through the meadow, we met this shy flock of sheep.

I was one of the last to come back down, and while doing so my legs began to tremble, threatening to fail me before I reached the bus. However, I got to the welcome center, rested a while, and Connie and I headed off in search of the cheapest blackberries. We purchased a big cup for $2 and ate them with lunch in a little restaurant there along the path.

That night, we arrived in Guanajuato late, around 10:30 PM. The "ice breaker" was already nearly finished by then, and I managed to avoid it almost completely. I met my roommates and promptly went to sleep, declining a late-night dinner from Claire at midnight. My roommates were Paco, from Brazil, Sam, from Taiwan, and Alex, from The Netherlands, with whom I shared a bed.

December 5 - We awoke around 6:30, had breakfast in a large gallery with all the exchange students present - some two or three hundred - and took buses downtown to a little park. There, we formed into groups by country and took a boisterous stroll through charming Guanajuato. The city is gorgeous, and the street we took was perhaps especially romantic. All the houses are different colors, of course, and they all have little balconies with wrought-iron railings that support little flowerpots.

Brianna and I in the hotel. Note my muttonchops - may they rest in peace.

I fell in love with these little window porches and took lots of pictures of people in them

A Theatre

At the end of our parade, we were seated in a bleachers in the sun, in front of a big yellow church. The Rotarians made speeches and kept us there for about an hour, until we were moved down the street to the University of Guanajuato. Bob Sanchez was there, by the way. That was interesting.

The University of Guanajuato steps, covered in exchange students

After the photo, an intelligent ice cream man sold out his delicious home-made ice cream to hot exchange students. I bought a vanilla paleta (like an "ice pop" except made with cream) for 50 cents. From the University, they moved us gradually down into another park, but we got stuck because exchange students move glacially. And further, they kept mixing us up when we arrived to places and insisting we divide up into ditricts again when we left. Anyway, while we waited to continue, Connie and I spent like half an hour in a tiny one-room bookstore. It was the most wonderful bookstore, simply because it had been so long since I'd seen one. They had a ton of classics and such, books worth reading, as well as a big shelf of local Guanajuato authors published by the University. Connie and I vowed to return when we had free time.

Finally, we arrived at some city buses that had been procured for the occasion, buses that forced half of us to ride standing up, hanging on the rails. Our guide shouted over the loud engine, little tidbits about various statues and theaters and churches. The main thing is that Guanajuato took in some writer or intellectual from Spain during the Civil War or Franco's despotic rule (don't remember which), and he was an expert on Miguel de Cervantes (author of Don Quixote). So, in return for what Guanajuato had done for him, he started a Cervantes museum. And thusly, the city is now home to the Cervantino, which is like a monthlong medieval culture fair, with art and constant performances in churches and theaters and in the streets and such.


We ended our tour in a distant part of the city, in front of a VIPS. I have never eaten at VIPS, but I assume it's shit, since it's a chain restaurant, and no one really seems to like it. Anyway, we didn't eat there. They sent us off for half an hour while they prepared our food, and Connie and Eika and I ended up just across the street in this beautiful tiny cafe. They ordered coffee and cake while I ransacked the bookshelf. We found many old books, many beautiful books, and a few books with little notes stuck in the pages. They were mostly Spanish, but there were books in English, French, Portuguese, and Japanese as well. Eika read in Japanese and Connie in Spanish, while I made sure not to miss anything.

Going back to the first shelf, I found something I had missed the first time, a copy of "Vita Brevis" in Spanish, a modern novel written as a response to Augustine's Confessions, from the point of view of his lover. Incidentally, it is by the same author (Jostein Gaardner) who wrote Sophie's World, a book we've been required to read in Philosophy class here. It was warped and moldy (which gave us the tantalizing idea that it had been in the flood a century before, but it was written far too recently for that), and had a card inside with these quotes on it:

"When you were born you cried and the whole world rejoiced. Live your life in such a manner that when you die the whole world cries and you rejoice."

"Ma'am, God is going to come in and tell you how to get well."
"Oh, wonderful!"
God entered the room and said:
"All you have to do is love, accept, forgive, and choose to be happy."

After leaving the cafe, our guide guided us to the courtyard we were to eat lunch in. There were several big white canopies set up to shield us from the sun, and dozens of circular tables set with white clothes and pitchers of horchata, jamaica, or limonada. We sat with Yana and Flor and Capi, and Marlene and Claire, and had a hard time getting food. It arrived to our table last, and they had shit for vegetarians - I ended up with two little plates of pasta and bread.

A napping Koala Bear

Connie and I didn't bring our pins and cards, and so during the time after lunch, which had been designated for pin and card swapping, I somehow convinced her to be a meek, lazy person like myself, and come lie in the grass and watch the moon with me. She climbed this tree, and then we laid down and she educated me about Australian politics. At one point, a bunch of kids from our district ran over and dogpiled us, then quickly left. Later, a little ladybug arrived, and we held an impromptu photo shoot.

The two best results of our ladybug photo shoot

After that afternoon in the courtyard, we were returned to the hotel. I had a short nap, and then we were taken to wait outside, at the end of a giant line of exchange students being taken in groups of about 75 or so up a set of stairs and into a network of alleys behind and above the main streets. We were led by a group of what I suppose you'd call troubadors. We stopped in several places along the way, and they performed songs. It was very quaint and nice. I wore a scarf that I stole from Clara last year.

Candy Store

After the alley tour, or "Callejoneada," which included a passage through the narrow "Kiss Alley," we were sent into this tiny candy store to try sweets typical of the region. After that, we were siphoned out into a large plaza to wait for buses to come back and take us to a disco. They arrived, and we arrived, and they gave us shitty food in plastic bags, and then I got to go back to the hotel and sleep because I hate discos.

A legitimate ad campaign by the only major bread company in Mexico

Samn Johnson's Australian Doppelganger

December 6 - They took us all to a gigantic sports complex. They were originally only going to have those who signed up play, but I guess they changed their minds and decided to make it mandatory, only revealing later that "they couldn't obligate us to do these things." For me, it made no difference, because I snuck out of it anyway, and sat and read Joseph Conrad's "Youth" next to three Thai girls. Later I met a Brazilian, and then we ate more shit plastic bag food before heading back to the hotel.

At the hotel, we had a short time for napping, then we had to learn La Bamba and then perform it immediately after. After all the districts performed their bit (most of which were performances of "Mexico en la piel," which is pretty much like America the Beautiful for Mexico), we went back to our rooms to nap again and change into "formal attire." We ate a mediocre dinner and then we had a "gala dance," which was essentially a disco in the gala room with formal clothes. They played reggaeton. Fuck reggaeton. They also wouldn't let us leave without specific permission from our chairmen. I went to my room, watched the stars, and watched Hellboy on TV because I had felt like watching a movie. I slept late, when the others came back from dancing.

December 7 - Sunday, I saw Brianna at breakfast and finally got a chance to talk to her. We had a big fancy ceremony, a bunch of people made poor speeches, and we all got into buses by district to go to the Mummy museum and never saw each other again.

Guanajuato

The Museum was in a distant part of the city, a poorer, newer, drier part of the city. Mummies:

A mummy?

After the mummies, we were carried back into the center to eat at a cool music cafe/buffet, and from there we all split of every which way. Connie and Eika and I head off with no directions to find our little bookstore. She claimed I was a genius when my Taoist technique for finding a place led us there with no detours, though I truly had no idea where I was going. For those of you who don't know, this pretty much just means walking where you feel like it. I followed a few particularly appealing alleyways, and let the intuition of my memory take me there. You all know to trust your intuition, don't you? It's a real thing, and it is usually right.

The bookstore was inhabitated this time by the same woman as before and a man. The man recommended easy and good books for us to read in Spanish, and I ended up buying six books, mostly by Guanajuato authors, for $20. We moved on down the street past the University steps, and they found a little postcard shop. I, however, returned to the steps to talk to English speaking people. The first group were Rotarians, on a dental mission, from northern Indiana. The second were a hippy-esque couple with a little boy. The third was a University exchange student from Vancouver studying design, with his visiting family.

After them, I met up with the girls and we continued down the street to an art cinema/art gallery, which was closed, and we didn't want to spend the last of our time in a French movie. The building itself was gorgeous, however.

We continued down the streets, deciding we were looking for a market. We passed through several parks, including the big one in front of the theater pictured above, and also in front of that church with the exquisite front. We talked to a painter there, a middle-aged woman selling her works. She told us her son had gone on exchange to Germany, and that she had hosted several exchange students that year. We moved on, down into a random series of streets, again without directions. This time Connie knew where she was going, by some Taoist intuition, and we arrived at a market that I don't think either of us were intending to end up at. It was a big building with a second-floor mezzanine around the edge and a lot of fruit and vegetable stands in the center. We bought a lot of produce for snacks - two guavas, a yellow pepper, an apple for Eika, a bag of grapes (which didn't turn out to be any good), and a peach. We ate in the streets and went searching for a cafe.

We ended up sitting outside in a little cafe in a little park. I ordered apple-cinnamon tea and some extremely sweet crepes, and the girls had coffee and alcohol. Two tables near us were occupied by English speakers, and they were the only ones there for most of the night. The closer one was an extremely talkative American, who kept explaining things in a rather pedantic way to his two European companions. The others were black and white pair of college roboticists from UPenn, there for a robotics competition. I went to talk to them, but not the middle-aged guys.

After we ate and drank our fill, and gave away our bad grapes to little begging children who tried to sell us gum several times, we went to the meeting place in a taxi. There, we boarded the buses and headed home. Connie and I were perhaps the only ones talking for most of the night - everyone was fairly tired. I felt moderately bad by that point, and so I spent the conversation with my eyes closed, drifting into and out of sleep, in a state of mild pain-induced nauseous from my headache. Connie was the best and rubbed my neck for me for far longer than she could have been expected to, and we talked about a number of things I don't believe I've ever talked about to other people before.

A Stunning Photograph