how to grow a fantastic frida brow

finito

2010-07-18T06:33:00.000-07:00

Hey people, I apologize for the wait. I had the pleasure of ignoring facebook and blog posting for my two weeks in Italy because Mariangela's internet was down. However much I love to tell you guys detailed accounts of my travels, it was a nice break.

so here is a super speedy recap:

From El Limon, Mex I went to Tampico, ate amazing fried fish in Vera Cruz with one of my favorite Mexican families the Torrez-Felizardo's. Then I caught a plane to Houston, hopped on another to Newark, and then missed my flight to Italy. How? you may ask. Well, I'm not telling you.

I caught the flight to Rome the next day and left that forsaken airport to meet Mari for the first time in about a year.
The two weeks in Italy was fantastic. I met Maria's family, all of whom I loved. I'm learning Italian to be able to talk to Nona (grandma) and Mari's mom Lucia.

We went to Rome on three separate days. I got to see Carravaggio, Michelangelo, so much Bernini, so many fountains and churches. It was wonderful. It was beautiful. You should go.

also, above are some pics from mexico and italy. including the mural. mari is the girl with curly dark brown hair and the strong nose.

Feliz dia, Padre

2010-06-20T12:04:00.000-07:00

Today is Father's Day, which is an extreme holiday at the casa considering Fernando has forty-odd children.

I have never been to another orphanage, but I have always suspected that the days dedicated to our moms and dads would be ignored, seeing as the kids don't have their biological parents. But in this home Father's Day is an opportunity to celebrate the father they do have at the casa and their protector in Heaven.

And so, en celebracion, we are having barbacoa for lunch! If you have ever had the tasty barbacoa meat at Chipotle in your seven-dollar burrito then you know the flavor of the savory beef, but Americanized. Here it is different, because instead of the flank of the cow, they use the tongue. I walked over to the kitchen and as promised, there was a plate piled high with the long organs (cooked) and four workers diligently skining, dicing and shreddign the meat. Nancy gave me a little taste of the meat, wanting me to experience the uniquely smooth texture. They get excited about my first food experiences here. Indeed, cow tongue is smooth. And tasty.

To recollect this month's first-time food experiences:
hicama-a fruit. it tastes like snow peas but has the texture and color of raw potato.
ciruela-also a fruit. there are numerous ciruela trees in the back yard. they are little cherry tomato-sized fruits, red when ripe, with a sweet tomatoey yellow pulp and a sour, green applely skin. muy rica.
pig stomach-used for a nice soup. if you've ever disected a pig, then you know what it looks like. cooked, the meat doesnt change color much, but it toughens. the taste is fatty, like the orange oil that appears on top of your ground beef when you cook it.
and today, cow tongue-smooth texture, not displeasing. tastes good.

the mexican put-down

2010-06-19T14:08:00.000-07:00

I thought it would be a great idea to root for whichever soccer team plays Mexico, you know, for giggles. At first it was fun! They would threaten me, raise their arms in disguist, throwing imaginary objects over their heads. Mexicans can be dramatic.

Then I realized that Mexico has an excellent soccer team. And now, thanks to my lack of dart games this summer, I need some competitive outlet, hence my new intrest in the sport of futbol. I get really into these games. A few days ago Mexico played France and I (of course) had to root for France. Well. It was a great game; susupenceful, tons of activity, tons of fouls. But alas, it was a great game for Mexico, not France (Henry was on the bench, an unfortuante setback). Mexico scored the first goal in the last 20 minutes and then secured the win with another goal after a foul in the red zone. Then someone broke through the surface of the earth and dragged me to Hell. But I'm starting to understand the professional rules more, and I'm pulling for team USA. The cup will finish when I am in Italy and I kindof want to visit a bar for an American game if we make the next round. That would be an awesome experience I think. The safest.

I don't know if I will be going for the teams playing Mexico anymore though, because these guys know how to poke fun just as well as they know how to work a mop (with mad skillz). Last night I explained to Juan Luis that the girls inside were angry with me because I wished for Francia to win. He told me with his big, serious, Mexican annoucer smile that he too was very angry with me. Then he went on to explain that there are not enough boys in the boys dorm, only ten! And that I should move over there with them, then there would be eleven! Well, Juan Luis, I am considering your offer, but you have to realize that my short, dark brown hair does not make me a Mexican boy as you may think. It didn't matter to him.

Then later on that night Veronica and I were sitting outside after dinner, bellies full of rice and chile, just talking. About stuff. When all of the sudden she broke out in song 'Suuuuusiiiii ella bailaaa...' It started out real nice, something about me dancing.. When she got to the part about how my dancing breaks the video cameras filming me I realized that this is another creative Mexican joke. I mean really, they usually just call you fat, or dirty.

La Florida

2010-06-16T12:02:00.000-07:00

I think that whoever named La Florida thought that it compared to the American state. And I think they were wrong. Not that I have scoped out Florida so much. Perhaps Florida does have fresh water river pools with exotic, uninhabited forests and terrifyingly tall dams with very little guard railing preventing falls from the top and Indiana Jones-styled wooden rope bridges awaiting you to cross so that they can finally snap in two (dramatic fall into the river below). Now that I think about it, that probably does exist in Florida, somewhere. But the world Florida brings words like 'furnished condominium,' 'miami beach,' 'spring break,' 'tanned to perfection,' 'retirement,' and 'death by crocodile' to my mind.

Our Florida, down here in Mexico, refers to a little riverbend where the water slows enough for you to swim across and walk the trails, jump from little mud ravines into the water, rope swing or simply ride the current. The water is cold, even in the peak of summer. It is freezing. Your skin gets pale, you do not sweat. It is good.

This year when we visited La Florida I walked straight into a butterfly swarm! If you live in Cincinnati then you probably have either heard about the yearly butterfly exhibit at the Crone Conservatory or have experienced it (my mother and I have gone almost every year I think). Well, it was just like that except so much better. The butterflies were small, delicate, and they did not seem to care that I crashed their party, uninvited. They danced around me, flashing their beautiful colors of perriwinkle, monarch orange and creamy yellows. (IT WAS SO COOL.) I'm pretty sure that butterfly parties are seasonal at La Florida. I'm glad God is punctual.

Walking on the back trails this year I saw many living things, including several softball-sized bullfrogs and a cow. I was leading the line of people (this trail of God is windy and narrow) and a few yards up the path I saw something light brown. That is no tree trunk, I thought. 'Uuuh, guys.. Adrian (who is the biggest and strongest of our small human group).. caballo.. no. vaca!' I said softly, nervously. '¿Que Susi?' Adrian says. He passes me up and and sees the animal, whose body peaked from the brush. It was a cow (with scary horns). Adrian laughed in disbelief. Then he did this thing to scare the cow back; waving his arms up and down, jerking his head forwart to make Mexican-sounding noises. It works. We move on. We giggle.

Also, I bought some a little jar of instant coffee today for about a dollar fifty. I thanked the Lord.

And now that I've been speaking so much Spanish, English is beginning to sound a bit awkward and goofy. Such as the word 'thanked.' Say it. It's funny.

al canalito!

2010-06-16T11:34:00.000-07:00

The canal is about a block from the casa (though there are no sidewalks to measure blocks, only small and uneven mud roads). The canal is about five feet wide and four feet deep. It's a simple, man-made structure built to collect rain water and aid in flood prevention. Except I don't think that it actually prevents floods, because most every time it rains, places flood. The cement sides are coated with a thin world of algea. The water, once it is disturbed, is home to swarms of green plant life, fungi, more algea, minnows for catching, seaweed for throwing, mud for slipping. The dam in the stretch of canal near our casa is efficient in smelling bad and collecting various trash items, fallen mangos and general detritus. Some sections of the canal are overgrown with lilly pads and if you peak under them you can see the bigger minnows, about the size of your index finger. If you are a bit dorky (and scientific!) and like biology, the experience can be a little magical.

When we are hot (really hot), and when Mama Yadira gives the OK, this is where we play (yea! hi-fives all around brotherman!). When we are dry of water, this is where we bathe (and play at the same time). The water is warm, but slightly cooler than the air. The algea makes for a nice entry; you sit on the edge, legs dangling in the water, shift your weight and slide down (giddy from the feeling of slime). The algea also covers the bottom of the canal, which makes gentle wrestling hilarious. I won't lie, I've been taken out by Mexicans one third my size. They know I'm unexperienced.

And then the mud. There is always mud awaiting your pruned feet when you hoist your torso and slide up the side to get out. There is always mud available for throwing, which means there is always mud available to be thrown at you. Infinite ammunition. Then you can jump into the water again to rinse your face (for purposes of vision), get out and throw some more. It becomes a vicious cycle of lather, rinse, repeat.

The cycle is amplified if there are boys with you.

nonsense

2010-06-15T09:24:00.000-07:00

a few fun casa facts. (bullet-pointed because i cant figure out a catchy way to encorporate them into long, wordy blog posts)

-the puppy Taico's favorite toy is an old computer mouse
-their are more roosters and hens this year. the roosters have showdowns in which they get about 5 inches apart and crouch real low and just stare at each other. then we yell at them 'but you´re brothers!' and they get distracted and never finish the fight. such stupid animals..
-also, i enjoy chasing them. the mexicans enjoy laughing at my efforts
-im craving peanut butter like no other
-everyone is learning to ride bikes!
-ive gotten several scoldings about the secular music on my ipod. not any music in particular, just that its secular
-while i was painting the mural today i had some friends in uniforms preforming car inspections. so i got to watch tons of people get their cars searched! (the mural is in the entrance of the school which has a gate exposed to the busy road outside)
-there was no breakfast this morning and i am very hungry
-today we finally bought some more water (the kind to bathe in, cook with)
-last night i dreamt that i visited my old theater job and they were making video deliveries with a air force plane. it was cool. and dangerous.
-i keep thinking i am in cape cod when i feel a cool breeze. this has been happening for a while
-i dont think my brain has registered yet that i am in mexico
-they say my spanish is improving. i am doubtful.
-one week until the mission arrives. 2 weeks until i hopscotch to italy.

para el gloria de jugo del limon

2010-06-13T16:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I must have juiced about 500 limes. I'm sporting one of those invisible but painful bruises in the middle of my right palm from using the manual fruit press and the cut on my pinky is painfully clean.

Almost everyday the casa recieves the produce leftovers that a nearby grocery can no longer cell for cheap. Some of the kids have the chore of dividing up the rotten goods from the usable, or carrying the bad stuff to the goats, carrying the good stuff to the kitchen, etc. Lucero and Nadia are in charge of juicing the limes. Sometimes there is a large amount of limes, other days the pickins are slim. Yesterday we were given three large produce baskets overflowing with hundreds of them. Lucky for the casa, the skin of a lime yellows and discolors before the fruit spoils. Because of the discoloration, consumers don't spend their money on them, and the store can't sell perfectly good produce.

The limes have to be squeezed on the day they arrive or else the numbers dwindle. Most of the juice will eventually be watered down and used for drinking. Agua de limon is my favorite juice here, so I have no problem helping the girls with their task.

I think my avid enthusiasm for lemon and lime comes from my mom. When I was a kid we went to ball games. My mom would always get an italian ice. 'It's my one indulgence' she told us. She didn't lie, either. My mother has never taken to the available frills in life. She'd share a few spoonfuls with me so I could enjoy the sweet and sour, puckery taste of the lemon.

Five large pitchers of pure lime juice later me and my trabajadoras looked at the basket that fit all of the squeezed limes, piled onto each other. I couldn't help but think of the Holocaust. Then I mentally scolded myself.

cafe glorioso

2010-06-12T10:30:00.000-07:00

Even though I am addicted, I never ask for coffee here. This is because, as Veronica says, coffee is usually only for the viejitas (or the elderly), which includes anyone above the age of 23. The seldom sometimes that Ciro or Nancy offer me a cup, I jump on the opportunity. Hot and instant, sweet and black, Ciro placed the searing mug in my hand this morning. The Lord is Good, I thought. It must have been the hottest cup of coffee I have ever had. I was sweating perfusely after a few sips. One of the wonders of Mexico is that your hot coffee never gets cold.

I enjoyed my cafe while painting today. Sometimes Saturday mornings are lax, and the kids can rest, but only if the week went especially well. On the contrary, after breakfast I overheard Nancy address specific kids while they sat at their tables and announce what a poor job they had done with cleaning in the last few days. So we all went to work straight away. When a few kids slack off here, there is a chance that everyone will share the consequences. It seems to me that every sufface indoors and out was swept this morning as I painted for a few hours.

The mural is coming along. To tell you all the truth, I haven't liked it that much so far. I like parts, but I feel that it is not nearly as together as I could be. I remember the way my painting teacher Wilbur uses is hands to bring the air together, expressing how you want the subject to cling to itself, to wrap around itself. In my opínion, the mural wadnt cutting it. But alas! Today I think I found a solution that will make the paint more believable and more alive.

I have been taking pictures after a paint for every half hour and I plan on posting a little animation of the mural's progression in the end for you all.

the story of when Ana Flor conquered the two-wheeler

2010-06-12T10:05:00.000-07:00

A few days ago Ana Flor and I were watching little Jose, a strong-willed six-year-old who will take your heart with his wit and charm, zip around the circle-shaped front drive on a two-wheel bike, no problem. Ana was sitting on a plastic toddler tricycle in front of me when she quietly confessed, 'My dad taught my older brother (Moses) how to ride a bike, but there was an accident and he couldn't teach me. And now I am eight.' Her eyes followed the fearless Jose tearing up the concrete. 'Do you want to learn?' I asked her. She looked up at me from her fisher price wheels and nodded, wide-eyed.

It only took some encouragement for this soft-spoken little one to take off. I didn't do much. I balanced her for a few go's and she did the rest. Mind you that when she was learning all of the kids her age were weaving by us on bigger bikes, going as fast as they could. Ana kept her chin up. The next day she asked about bike lessons round two and we hit the pavement (right after looking at the baby rabbits together). Ana didn't even ask for my hands to support the bike, she went sola. The lady is a gem.

To add to it, the bike we used is far from training quality. The pedals are missing and only the medal spokes remain and they dig into your legs if your foot misses. The seat tips back when you sit on it. It's about as heavy as a regular-sized bike and has absolutely no equilibrium. Nevertheless, Ana conquered.

After a full lap around the drive by herself, my student threw her bike down, our hands joined up high and we ran around the casa yelling at the top of our lungs, 'ANA FLOR! VICTORIOSA! VALEROSA! QUE FUERZA! QUE GUAPA! Jose ain't got NOTHIN on her!'

I'm only kidding.

However, we did celebrate by playing a game of imaginary net volleyball.

sudafrica

2010-06-11T09:05:00.000-07:00

Shakira sings the Offical Song of the 2010 World Cup. Her commercials are on every channel that the casa's satillite recieves. I must admit, it's a catchy song. All of the kids here have been singing it for a while, waiting for Mexico to play. The World Cup is in South Africa this year, and right now Mexico is playing South Africa. The game started at 9am this morning. I have minimal intrest in professional sports anymore, but Mexico's enthusiasm for soccer is making me a litle competitive. Today, the morning and afternoon in Mexico are reserved for the game and nothing but the game. The phones are unanswered (one is ringing right now in the office..), classes are 'in session' which means that the students and teachers are watching the game together in a class room, the older students have the option of going to school to watch the game on a big screen. I was painting at nine thirty with my ipod in and all of the sudden the entire school errupted with cheers. I guess I don't have to actually watch the game in order to know the score, I thought to myself. Mexico-1 Sudafrica-0. Sometime after that I became a little dizzy at the top of my shakey ladder and decided to call it a morning. It is particularly humid and hot today..

After my shower I joined some futbol fans in front of the living room tv. The girls asked me who I was rooting for, and after noticing what pretty uniforms and shoes the Sudafrias were sporting (bright yellow and green), I told them I would root for South Africa. They started at me with steely eyes and told me to go outside.

Haha. What can I say? Nothing like a little competition. I'm sure I'll recieve hell if Mexico wins.

solitude

2010-06-10T11:40:00.000-07:00

When I bought my tickets for this summer's travels, I did not take into account the amount of time I would be spending with only myself. Airports and flights present this unusual feeling to me. Lately I've had a hard time with transitions, such as traveling. Now that I am traveling alone I have to face this problem. Their are certain comforts that I have, such as my ukulele and its happy sound, writing, reading, drawing and escaping into my mind. But I´ve never spent more than a day jumping from plane to plane (suject to change when I fly to Rome), so ultimatley I know that air-transitions end very soon after they begin.

Being in Mexico, however, is a different kind of solitude. I've been here for ten days and I´ve been reading a lot, aside from my mural work. It seems to me that because I am alone in my room (and usually no one bothers me to come out unless absolutely necessary) I can focus on my book with an extremity I rarely accomplish elsewhere. The truth is, I am very rarely alone. Mexico presents an opportunity for me to escape into my mind more than ever before.

Now, that's not to say that I have been alone this entire time. I am social, maybe less social than last year, but I still enjoy playing with the kids and talking with everyone. Some of them have noticed the differences in me, and have voiced their concerns in one way or another. Mostly I am teased for being sad, but that is just how they communicate. I feel that if I didn't have an older brother who teased me endlessly in my childhood then I would be hopeless here. I never thought I would be thankful for those times when I was a kid, but that mild torture has helped me in so many ways.

I just finished reading Haruki Murakami's 'The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles'
you should read it.

the intellegence of these people

2010-06-08T13:28:00.000-07:00

Something I have noticed about my Mexicans, especially since being here alone, is how they are constantly observing. They ask me 'Suzy, why so sad?' when I have not been smiling. They noticed my piercing right away (the industrial bar in my left ear) and they all tell me their opinions of it. Most of them don't like such liberal decisions concerning our bodies.. but some think it's cool. Some tell me that they miss my longer, curly hair. Others think the short look is chido. They remember of whom I drew portraits two years ago when I first came here. They remember the names of all of the Americans who´ve visited before, even if they were only here for one week a few years back. They ask me about their American friends, they ask me who is visiting this year and when. They remember my sister, her name and her face, her red hair, and Jeanette's last year here was a while back. And all of this remembrance comes from the six-year-olds. I want to erase the stereotype we have of Mexican people in the US: because they might be less educated, or working at Walmart, then they are below us. This is not true. These are intellegent people.

conejos

2010-06-08T13:08:00.000-07:00

Painting today was a lot of fun. Juan Carlos has jobs in the school at the same time that I paint and he always sneaks up behind me and waits about a foot away until I turn away from the wall. Now I am in the habit of turning when I sense someone watching me (which is difficult because I have my headphones in). Sometimes I catch him as he is sneaking up, then he fiegns innocence and walks past.

Juan Carlos is a special kid. I think he is about sixteen. He stays at the Casa in order to get an education. At his real home he was unable to enter school, but here they have a deal worked out for him. He works extra hard, has more chores than the other kids and in return eats, sleeps and attends school for free. Juan Carlos never complains about his work load and I always see him praising God. Yesterday he told me that he wants to learn how to play my ukulele. I think that when I return to the Casa I will stay and teach English, art and some instruments to the kids. My class will be called Clase de Super Divertido Ingles, Arte y Musica.

Just a minute ago I was holding a baby bunny, only a week old. Eyes still shut tight, they fit in your palm and have a thin layer of peach fuzz covering their fetus-like bodies. SO COOL. I could see the shape of the skull and its little front teeth. God's creations are super cool. The other Americans were a little grossed-out but I think my enthusiasm for growth is beginning rub off on them. I wish I could post the pictures. We totally posed..

mural

2010-06-07T13:14:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry to imform you all that as of this moment I have failed to find a way to transfer my camera's pictures to the computers here. Hopefully I will be able to figure it out soon and show you some pictures of the mural, the kids, etc.

I can tell you that over the course of this week I have completed about one third of the mural. The layout goes like this: Their are a bunch of portaits of kids from different ethnicities in between kids doing things (one is in action, winding up to kick a soccer ball, another two are at their school desks writing, another plays with a dog) The kids follow each other in a circle which makes for the outline of the globe. I'll post pictures of it when I am in Italy if I cannot figure it out here.

I usually paint in the mornings, when school is in session. The kids call my name from their classrooms and give me thumbs ups, tell me they like it, or that I'm 'really good at drawing!' When they leave for the day, the ones from the orphanage give me hugs, no matter how much I'm sweating. It's precious.

cucarachas muertas

2010-06-07T13:05:00.000-07:00

The first night, just before bed, I went inside my bathroom to wash up. I was greeted by an audience of cockroaches, all sizing up to the about length of my thumb and the width of a quarter.

I screamed and jumped back, laughing nervously as they crawled all over my walls, ceiling and toilet. I backed out of my room and explained the scene to my friend Fernanda, the daughter of the couple who runs the orphanage. She and I got a broom and a tall can of Raid and prepared for battle. I must admit that killing those speedy, juicey bugs is terrifying. There were a lot of squeals and giggles.. Afterwards my room and bathroom looked like a slaughter house. We actually ended the lives of two cucarachas as they were makin a baby.. I felt a little bad after that.

Now I can kill those suckers on my own. Which doesn't mean I'm not scared of them, because I am. I'm not afraid of large spiders, not even tarantulas, but cockroaches really freak me out for some reason. Even now, there is a sizable cricket hangin out by my computer and he doesn't bother me.

Just pray for me that it doesnt rain in the middle of the night again, because the little monsters do not enjoy the rain. They prefer my bathroom.

new faces

2010-06-07T12:49:00.001-07:00

My first days at the casa were bitter sweet. Each kid asked me if I remembered their names, and I think I only messed up on one (Jairo). They were impressed still. Their are quite a lot of new faces at the casa this year. The cook, Estella, my good friend and kitchen companion here, has gone to live with her mother and daughter in Mante. This was unbearibly sad news for me. I spent so many afternoons making tortillas with her in the kitchen. She was the kind of person who could always communicate with me, even in my first year when I knew so little of the language. However, I am glad that the new cook is working here. She is the mother of seven, five of which are in the casa right now. I think that living with five of her kids has been the most she has ever lived with at one time.

I cannot help but miss my American friends who have accompanied me in these summer weeks here in the previous summers. Although there are two American girls here right now, and both are very nice, I have a room to myself. It is different than any Mexico experience I've had so far. But I'm getting used to it. I think that this month is turning into something great, just like my two prior summers.

Leaving my new puppy, Violet, was hard. I forgot to say goodbye to her the morning we drove to the airport because I was so nervous about making the flight. I do miss Violet, a lot, but I was so relieved to see a puppy at the casa this year. Taico is Yadira's new Rotwieller. He looks about three or four months old. He's not the same as Violet, he's a little more wild (a little more Mexican).

I happen to come to Mexico when the days' tempuratures climb every day. Tomorrow will inevitably be hotter than today. I forgot hard it is to stay dry here. If you don't shower at a specific time in the evening, you won't stay dry. No matter how dry my towel is, right after I wipe myself down a thin film of perspiration covers my body in seconds. It's incredible.

Also- I want to give a shout out to my mom, who shoved a bag of prunes in my bag just before I left. Thank you mom, they came in handy.

God's Will

2010-06-07T12:30:00.000-07:00

The tricky thing about trying to have a blog in Mexico is that the internet is not exactly reliable. For the past week we haven´t had internet. But alas! Today is the day God has willed us to be connected to the world wide web, that´s how Papa Fernando puts it, at least.

To catch you up on the last week, I will start from June 1st.

Mario and Lidia Felizardo and their son, Mario, picked me up from the airport and took me to their apartment. After we talked for a while (my first full spanish sentences in months, other than talking to myself) they took me to a carne asada dinner in the city. Tampico's streets are a complex system of winding roads, intense inclines and hazardous intersections. I imagine that this was what Paris was like before the great city transformation their king ordered after the city grew to its incredible size. Unlike France, Mexico does not change so easily. The Felizardo's treated me like family. They gave me my own room, which I knew belonged to someone else of the household, but they would never tell me that.

I have recieved this kind of hospitality before in Mexico. In fact I was in the same city at the time. My good friend Teresa and I were stuck at the airport because our visas had been filled out incorrectly when we entered Mexico. They had expired by a few days and immigration would not overlook the mistake. We missed our flight and were told we would have to go down town to renew the visas and pay x amount of dollars, etc. Through a few phone calls and connections, we were put in contact with a few people who could help us out. We stayed in a small city apartment with a family who had their cousin move into his grandmother's house for the four days we had to stay. No one told us of the sacrifices that the family members made to make us feel welcome. This is simply the standard hospitality of Mexico. If their is no guest bedroom, then the guest is not given the couch. The guest is given a room and someone in the family sleeps on the couch.

Lidia drove me to Tampico the next morning, a 2 hour commute. We talked the entire time, she was very patient with my dictionary and verb book page-flipping. Before Lidia left the casa she and Mama Yadira prayed for me. I took the prayer gladly. I could not believe that this woman, Lidia, who had done so much for me already, would put her hands on my shoulders and pray to God for my trip in Mexico. I could not help but to smile.

2010-05-31T09:51:00.000-07:00

Pictured above is my excellent accordion sketchbook which I intend on starting abroad, my required summer reading (thank you Laura and Kristine), my uke which I specifically bought to play in airports, and materials essential to existence (Spanish Verbs, my dictionary etc)

When I tell the politically-aware listeners that I am returning to Mexico again, but this time alone, they usually have similar responses. First their eyes widen a bit, raise their brows, then they look at me as if I am either stupid, ignorantly fearless or insane. Occasionally someone showers me with admiration (in which case they are usually young and believe that chivalry isn't dead). Well, I'm young too, and chivalry isn't dead. But I'm not chivalrous, I'm just going home.

I leave tomorrow. Yadira Mendoza (the woman who runs the orphanage with her husband, Fernando, and the staff) has arranged for her friend Lidia Felizardo, who resides in Tampico, to pick me up from the airport. Which means them sex slave traffickers/drug cartel gangstas/really bad men ain't got nothin on me. You can still pray for me, please. I am not invincible, as I found out in Tampico two years pasado when immigration kept us from flying home because we were ILLEGAL by 2 days or something ridiculous. Now I can tell people that "once I was an illegal immigrant in Mexico," it was totally worth it.

thank you to my parents, Mom and Dad Evans, this unrealistic summer would never be possible without their trust and support. I am so poor right now, and they continue to help me out. So if you ever see them, give them a hug or a pat on the back or five dollars for me.

And this lady is my new best frand.

2010-05-24T16:05:00.000-07:00

The people at the Plaza art supply store knew Violet by name when I came in today. I bought a TON of acrylic Plaza paint, because I want these guys to stay in business. (And because I am So local.) Let's all say a simultaneous prayer, or perhaps a group chantra, that customs doesn't suspect my paint for anything other than paint. I'm guessing the first test of my Spanish this year will be convincing the airport workers that I am not a drug trafficker, which sort of happened last year with the tie dye chemicals. BUENO.

I think Violet secretly wants to come with me.

AS PROMISED: im stealing this vegan bread recipe from "randomgirl.com" thanks, girl. i hope randomgirl is her real name.

soy milk biscuits! cute!

2 cups all-purpose flour
3 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp salt
6 tbls soy margarine
3/4 cup soymilk

Preheat oven to 425. Grease a baking sheet

Sift flour, baking powder and salt together in a large mixing bowl. Add the margarine to the flour mixture until it looks like coarse crumbs. Stir in the soy milk and form the dough into a ball.

On a floured surface, roll out the dough about 2 inches thick. Cut into 2 inch rounds with a cookie cutter.

Place on sheet and bake for 15 minutes, until slightly brown.

vegan sliced bread

2010-05-23T07:46:00.000-07:00

In my senior year high school yearbook I was donned a title of great recognition. Like any high school yearbook, there were numerous pages starring the beloved graduating seniors. "The couple who wasn't but should have been" "Worst Driver" "Most Endearing Smile" etc. How I wished to have an ultra-cool and desirable lable! But alas, not only did I fall short of "Most Intelligent" and "Just Fantastic," my claim to fame was "Suzy Evans... not another Mexico story."

guess what this blog is going to be about...

In nine days time I will start my summer plane-hopping voyage around the world. The first adventure: El Limon, Mexico. Casa Hogar Mama Paulita's is a children's home at which I've been volunteering for the past two summers. And while I've exhausted so many ears with my endless Mexico tales, this summer I am staying for the month of June. Get ready for more! : ) I'll be the only english-speaker around for three weeks. Which means I have no choice but to speak and learn so much spanish. This factoid is indeed more exciting to me than vegan sliced bread. Three weeks into my stay in Mexico the mission trip from my past church will join me for the remainder of the month. My parents are coming down with the mission, I am excited to see them in Mexico, my element.

My weeks in Mexico will be spent painting a mural for the schoolhouse. I am currently looking at Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera as mentor artists. But please, if you have any suggestions of muralists or Mexican artists I should study, let me know.

I shall update this blog as frequently as I can. One of the reasons for the blog is so that everyone can keep up with me as the summer goes on. Because by the time I tell the same summer Mexico tale ten times I start to switch things up, cut things out etc. I'm trying to avoid this through the interweb. We'll see how it goes.

So feel free to follow me, ask questions, live vicariously.

coming soon : a recipe on vegan sliced bread. also. more on italy, which comes after mexico. but not in the alphabet. plus there is a time machine.