Second Day- more about the political scene

It’s really weird walking around the city because it feels at once so familiar and not. Most of the political graffiti I was documenting last time is gone, but there are still obvious signs of walls painted over multiple times. On some there are 5-foot high uniform swaths of white paint, while the rest of the wall is blue or yellow. There are random “APPO vive” or “nadie se olvidie el 2 de Oct” slogans sprayed on walls usually accompanied by a hammer and sickle or anarchist sign. The city feels much less grimy than when I was here last and it is obvious that basic civil order has been restored. It is interesting how much walking around today I was struck by the difference in who is/ was on the street in the middle of the day (and this may also reflect the time of year). One of the things that so characterized the APPO takeover of the city was the fact that rural peoples were inhabiting the city in new ways, that they were asserting a kind of control over the city (and that urban professionals were joining them, not the other way around)—that was one of the things I was so struck by in the take-overs of the banks and bus terminals. Today, when I walked down the Alcala, it was mostly urban 20-somethings hanging out… neither the politicized space nor tourist infested one that I’ve been used to. The Zocalo, which in the two times I’ve lived here has either been off-limits under construction (re-opening with grand pomp and circumstance to the dismay of locals) or occupied. When I walked down there, it was as I’ve heard it… people sitting on every available ledge or bench in the shade, sidewalk cafes and balloon venders (I heard that the other venders have been kicked out in the municipal “clean-ups” post PFP crackdown).

There is a much greater presence of armed police—on just an hour errand I ran into two in front of Santo Domingo, several riding in the back of an open jeep, and two riding a motorcycle—all with full bulletproof vests, automatic rifles and helmets. I can’t tell if they are local or federal police and if they are present as a deterrent or because they are actually worried about protestors. They are also in the most random places like outside a textiles shop.

I’m still feeling vulnerable and like my body is adjusting to the traveling and new space—it’s very very dry and hot—and my back is telling me that my pushing myself yesterday carrying heavy bags did not go unnoticed. I’m trying to be very kind to myself and take things easy—do some home yoga this afternoon, take naps, eat plain yogurt and granola and my favorite lime potato chips :) —rather than pushing on immediately. I’m giving myself a week before I start to “really” do fieldwork and push those cold encounters… and a couple days to get my feet under me before I start planning my research strategies.

The good news is that I already feel more intellectually stimulated about my project and I am figuring out where to go to learn what I want to know. The not so good news is that I feel like I jumped into a deep cold pool and am barely keeping my head above water language wise. I went to set up my internet this morning (an office just by my old posada in colonia reforma) and not only did I not even think to bring my passport (duh!), but I could barely keep up in conversation. Think about the rapid technical sales patter of any utility company, and then put it in a language that you are still working on. I realize how “fluent” I am in situations I have become accustomed to and how non-fluent I am once the context changes. Linguistic ability is my biggest insecurity here and I am trying to keep it all in perspective and not be too hard on myself—but it’s so frustrating to feel unable to manage basic interactions!

I walked back from the internet office along a route I walked everyday a year and a half ago and it was jolting to run into street scenes that I’ve photographed and know visually but would not have been able to arrange geographically, some places were on north-south axes rather than on my assumed east-west. I think that this sort of happening on spaces that feel simultaneously familiar and foreign reflects the physical and mental way that I have inhabited this city—wandering, feeling directionless and unmoored and happening on things only in unplanned routes—perhaps this is what fieldwork is. I think that I will be happy here, and already I have at least two “friends” and people in this house are really welcoming, but this is also a place with such traces of loneliness for me. This morning I tried to get used to the process of getting myself out the door and to a nearby café to eat breakfast (really good chai) alone when all I sort of wanted to do was pull the covers over my head. I realize just how depressed I was when I was here last.

One new thing is that some intersections actually have “walk/ don’t walk” signs in some busy places (like the intersection of Reforma and Ninos Heroes that either got me over or reactivated all my PTSD from my accident). But, of course because this is Mexico and pedestrians must scurry out of the way of cars that have all the rights of way, the walk sign is actually a little running person (with a countdown which is handy). All I could think when crossing Ninos Heroes (which is a large “road” that connects to the Pan-American Highways so is always full and has both commuters and trucks), was “run, run, it’s telling me to run!” And in truth, the amount of time to cross was just long enough for me to quickly walk.

I bought a cell phone for the first time that I’ve come down here…. again, I think that I got half of what he was telling me, all this technical stuff in rapid fire Spanish just goes through my brain (and cell phones are expensive, the cheapest one was about $50 including the first chunk of minutes). After 2 months I have to do something my phone will shut off and have to be reactivated, I’ll ask L. And then I brought it home and oy, it doesn’t work, it keeps telling me in Spanish to push menu to block or unblock and I do and then it tells me the same thing—I’m letting it sit and think on its sins hoping that when I return to it, it will be in a better frame of mind to cooperate. Of course once I asked L she pointed out that it was saying press menu “y * para bloquer o debloquer…” i.e. press menu AND * not press menu and then a bulleted list to unlock the keypad. She also couldn’t understand the process of registering my phone so passed it off to a friend of hers who very nicely did it for me, but I am very frustrated that these basic things are just so hard and complicated. I need to get back in the frame of mind of a cash economy, places that I expect will take credit cards—like buying a cell phone—don’t… so I always need to have a sense of how much cash I have, and, if I leave the city, I need to make sure that I have small bills and change—I forgot how precious $20 peso bills and $10 pesos coins are.

It seems that there’s a sort of flexible economy of knowledge among researchers, anthropologists, what have you. I am so appreciative that L is here and that she is so generous with her knowledge, and she tells me that she too had to be walked through these processes. I am really really trying to let go of the need to know how to do everything…I’m trying to lead with love towards myself as part of my ethnographic orientation. The Protestant over-achieving guilt fights with these impulses.

She and I this evening walked down to the supermercado that used to be Gigante (which is really one of the most fun words to say) for a stock up. Sariano as it is now called is sort of like a Mexican Target or Wallmart, you can buy generic clothes, electronic equipment, food, toiletries, for closer to American-like prices. It’s absolutely over stimulating to the senses. The big items I wanted to buy were a blender (licuadora)—crucial to any Mexican kitchen to make juices or salsas—and a fan (ventilador) as the one that came in my apt is a really cute retro-looking one that seems like it came from the 50s and when I turn it on makes the most appalling racket. So I bought both (my fan promises that it comes with a remote control!) and a truly random assortment of groceries some of which are necessities (olive oil, butter, eggs, cereal) and others that somehow seemed like I should get them (totopes, bottled mole that you can get in the states, guacamole, tuna). I get home and am so excited about my new products until I learn that a) the cord for the blender doesn’t stretch anywhere near the distance between an electrical outlet and a hard flat surface and b) the fan truly exemplifies that US companies send shoddy shoddy goods to 3rd world countries… not only was there no remote, but there was no threading in the holes in the base that would allow me to screw the fan stand to its base. I decided that I must have done something wrong and translated and retranslated the instructions (not ones with nice descriptive pictures) but no, it was faulty. So my fan is now literally held together with a shoe-lace (thank you Jason Price) that I used to tie the stand to the base and it works only when propped against the window and prohibited from turning.

I haven’t really wanted to eat much if at all due to the heat and travel so L introduced me to a café close by that makes really good salads and has an amazing rooftop teraza (one amusing thing is that in the midst of this gorgeous view of lights from a community on one of the hillsides, the yellow arches stand out brilliantly). I actually haven’t really eaten much comida Oaxaquena since I’ve been here, but I don’t doubt that I will get my fill and it’s really nice to have places with basic food around (I am so happy with the location of my apt in that regard).