Tengo Mí¡s Tiempo Que Vida

… That’s an expression here, meaning something like “I have all the time in the world.” I don’t feel that way, but thought it would make a good title.

I just haven’t felt like writing for the longest time. I apologize for the drivel-osity of these posts the last few weeks. Is my blogging spirit dying?

Getting to sleep last night was hard, my brain so electrified by overstimulation and exhaustion that when I closed my eyes I saw threads of pulsing light against a maroon sky. I could barely wake up this morning. It sort of sucks being in a room that’s three feet from the giant kitchen where onions fry and industrial pots clang. But even that and the squawks of dozens of pí¡jaros [from chickadee-like things to a cardinal] at 7 a.m. barely dented my consciousness. The worst part about my room is that it has no window, and in fact no natural light as far as the eye can see. The best thing about my room is my blanket.

Enrique arrived at 9:30 this morning to walk me to school. Near the Zócalo (the center of the old part of Oaxaca), we were joined by a perrito that followed us the rest of the way to school.

My new teacher, Araceli, is 26, pretty and bright. Her name means Altar of the Sky. I’m her only student this week. I’ve been surprised by how many times in two days that people have asked the meaning of my name. The first questioner was a three-year-old resident of my homestay casa: —“Que significa Ginna?” she asked. —“Pura y limpia,” I informed her. Don’t you find it a wee bit extraí±a that a sullied soul like mine wears such a badge of purity?

Today’s class consisted of a three-solid-hour conversation punctuated by Araceli’s strategic corrections. It was a good beginning. We talked about our families. And then — I don’t know how this happened — we moved to the subject of men: angry men and sensitive men, funny men and creative ones, men who like younger women and those who prefer them seasoned, men who should love us but don’t, men who love us but shouldn’t. Araceli’s conclusion is that women don’t need men all that much. I’ve been amazed by my capacity to engage in such intensive Spanish yacking, yet less surprised by how little I know.

Around 3:00 Araceli and Enrique walked me all the way home, greeting people and buying tortillas along the way. I bought $500 worth of pesos (around 6200) which I hope will last a long, long time. A group of kids in the Zócalo practiced an intricate traditional dance reminiscent of my Irish stuff in its precision and the complexity of its patterns. Their step was a more of a skip than our hops and leaps. And their teacher, like ours, kept jumping up and repositioning one or another errant dancer who had looked perfect to me.

After a delicious, Magdalena-made comida —in school I was taught that means food, which is does, but in Mexico it’s also what they call this main meal of the day — I tried to take a little siesta. I couldn’t sleep, for all the kitchen and happy family noise. It was good not to have to engage with anyone for a while, but after a bit I got creeped out by my own brain that I departed for my first solo walk in the city.

Did you know that Oaxaca is where the northern part of the Sierra Madre breaks from the southern, so that they bracket the city? From here they look large and magnificent and I plan to get closer.

And here’s a church called La Soledad. I recorded a woman in there singing but don’t feel like editing video now. I learned the difference between a church and a cathedral… at least, according to Enrique. A cathedral has a bishop. Is that true?

I spent my first 50 pesos tonight, for a CD that some street musicians (pan flutes and stuff) were selling in the Zócalo. They played La Llorona, so what could I do? I asked a one-eyed little girl how much it cost, and decided I could afford it.

Lots of activity in the area tonight, at the end of the holiday season. Still Feliz Aí±o Nuevo action all over, and all ages are vending their wares.

I’d better get to my homework. It’s a kloze [fill-in-the-blanks] story about…you guessed it: Tanzania.

Buenas noches.