In essence, my job right now is to be relational. How lucky is that? I wake up everyday with the knowledge that my main contribution to this community is to treat everyone who comes through the doors with a welcoming warmth and respect. Additionally, I consider a main part of my "job" to be building relationships with my coworkers and supporting them. It is not quantifiable or easily describable work, but it sure feels like a full and happy life from where I sit. I've been blessed with the opportunity to do volunteer work for a year (an opportunity that many do not have), and sometimes the guilt at the realization of this privilege overwhelms me. Often I struggle with my American notions of success and achievement being attached directly to work and income. Thus, this vagabond life with no money and no report card-like status check telling me that I've accomplished something tangible leaves me to grasp hold of meaning in the little things. The minute interactions, the simple gestures of generosity and goodwill, the shared food, the laughter, the language barrier... this experience cannot be measured in anything other than time spent with people.
Without further ado, the last 15 joys/anecdotes about life in el DF (Distrito Federal):
16). Emails, letters, phone calls, and packages from home. I'm convinced that receiving a package is one of the absolute best moments in life. Not enough can be said about the joy of opening up something that a friend has taken the time and care to put together with you in mind. It's amazing to be able to feel such a strong connection to a person through words and objects when they are not physically present. Emails, letters, phone calls... they all are equally wonderful. I marvel at modern technology which allows me to hear my parents' voices through my computer screen when I am sitting in my yellow room on a roof in the middle of Mexico City.
17). The color of the Casa. The Casa, as you can see at the top of the webpage, is a building made of lovely purple tile. I love walking down my street, spotting the purple, and thinking, "that's my house." It may be my only chance to live in a purple house for the rest of my life.
18). The feeling that someone's always got your back. So far, this is one of my absolute favorite things about living in community. Last week we had a giant potluck lunch to commemorate a whole lot of September happenings, and I prepared my contribution the night before (a delicious zucchini/curry soup passed onto me by my friend Sydney). My mishaps with the blender resulted in scalding hot green goo exploding all over me and the guests' kitchen (twice), and just as I was at the point of breakdown, my favorite doting adopted grandmother Orfila swooped in to help. People here are constantly offering to work for someone who's sick, sharing food with someone else who has no time to cook, lending a listening ear to whoever needs to talk something through... it's not perfect, of course, but it's great to feel part of a such a supportive group. Generosity is contagious.
19). El Tigre. The sandwich shop on the corner happens to have sandwiches that rival made-to-order Wawa hoagies in their luscious tastiness. I'd even dare to say that they are superior. These giant tortas are first stuffed with a variety of meat, cheese, veggie, and salsa combinations and then grilled to warm, snug perfection in long white rolls. One of my favorites is la espanola, made with delectable pieces of Mexican sausage, cheese, ham, lettuce, and red salsa. Why go to a fancy restaurant when the most amazing tacos and sandwiches can be found right on my street for under $3?
20). Cassandra. Sometimes there are so many characters at the Casa that it is hard to choose who takes the cake for being the craziest. Cassandra, however, is definitely among the top five. She's a Casa regular who always arrives with stage makeup and her hair pinned back with red, white, and green ribbon (the colors of the Mexican flag). She's also usually wearing a skirt and some sort of questionable shirt, and when she walks in, she exclaims without fail, "Calispera, honey." (Good afternoon or good evening, in Greek). She will not move on to greet the next person until you have repeated it. Cassandra is part Greek, and like the father in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," she takes great delight in explaining the Grecian root of any word. Although Cassandra is a woman who's perhaps in her early to mid thirties, she acts like a young girl discovering her sexuality. Her child-like antics and big, purple shadowed eyes make her a distinctive presence here, which can best be appreciated at the Casa talent shows during her acrobatic Greek dance routines.
21). Mexican Independence Day. September 15th in Mexico makes the 4th of July in the States seem like childs play. There is already a countdown in the zocalo, the city center, for the 2010 Independence Day celebration which will mark 200 years of Mexican independence from Spain. Independence day here is a two day event which is culminated in the moment when the president leads the nation in el grito- a forceful scream of Mexican pride commemorating the battle cry let loose by Miguel Hidalgo y Castillo during the war of independence. September 15th and 16th are full of food, flags, alcohol, and fiesta. I was delighted to find myself dancing outside of the Monument to the Revolution (a tourist attraction located just a few blocks from the Casa) to the music of a live band at 3 AM. Some forms of Mexican dance involve more repetitive hopping (swaying hips and kicking feet) than the impressive spins and steps one might normally associate with Latin rhythms. It is really a comical sight when couples are bouncing from one foot to another in an awkward correspondence with the equivalent of Mexican country music.
22). Dancing. With the exception of the hopping-music, I am in love with watching Mexicans dance. I can completely enjoy myself without ever setting foot on the dance floor at a bar or a party by being a mere spectator. Inevitably, a smile creeps across my face as I watch people of all ages dance so enthusiastically and so WELL, without the slightest hint of self-consciousness. It really gets to me when I see a teenage couple mastering the beat and complicated turns of salsa music, or when an older couple is so thoroughly engrossed in each others embrace. To me, the most distinctive difference between Mexican and American parties is the dancing. In the States, sometimes you will find dancing at a party, but usually it is of the unskilled and ironic variety (ie: Britney Spears, 80s music, etc). In Mexico, people truly want to dance, and a party is not complete until space has been cleared para bailar.
23). Inclusivity. One thing that can be said about the Casa community is that it is radically diverse and inclusive...thus, the high amount of crazy people we have coming around these parts. While, admittedly, it can be an annoyance to try to figure out the best escape route from a conversation in the reception with the ex-pat who just wants to make sure that you know that people wearing pace-makers must stay at a distance of 100 meters from any microwave, at the same time, I find beauty in the insanity. This place provides a social space for a great many people, both sane and slightly off-color, who would not otherwise have the opportunity to feel included and appreciated.
24). The Quaker Mafia. The fact that I have not been involved in Quaker circles since I was 10 years old does not seem to matter here. By mere association with my fathers very Quaker side of the family, I am endlessly connected in this small Quaker world. The first day that I got here, I met a woman who knew my Great Aunt Jean and who had actually been to my familys rustic cabin in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. Clay, one of my co-volunteers, has a close friend named Kate who happens to be a girl that I went to First Day School (the Quaker equivalent of Sunday School) with when I was in third and fourth grade. Also, my grandmother who lives in a Quaker retirement home met a woman who knows Clays grandmother. Who knew I could come to Mexico City, a place where I have naught a single blood relation, and feel like a part of this crazy, extended Quaker family?
25). The Meditation Room/Library. The Casa used to be the home of the famous Mexican muralist Jose Clemente Orozco, and the meditation room where Quaker meeting is held was once his studio. It is a calm, open space illuminated by light, and the sense of serenity is amplified by the arrangement of the seats and the surrounding walls full of thin, faded books. When you step inside, it feels vaguely like you are entering a sanctuary, or at least like the air is heavy with pause and reflection. I cant claim to know anything about feng shui, but this room certainly seems to have been designed in a way that is conducive to its purpose. Its a lofty escape three flights up, a silent refuge from the hustle and bustle of community life a few floors below.
26). Internationality. While I am thrilled to be in Mexico, a country which holds a charm so complete that I cannot even articulate it, I am also thrilled that the Casa draws an international community. In some ways, its like I have purchased a plane ticket around the world, or rather like the world is coming to me. Just as a snapshot, tonight Thursday, September 25th, 2008, there are guests at the Casa from: Haiti, Spain, Belgium, Germany, France, the US, and Australia. Other recent guests have hailed from Palestine, Nigeria, and Japan. So, while I have English down pat and a decent understanding of Spanish, I still come up short at times when trying to communicate with the guests (although most of them are multi-lingual). Some of my favorite moments of cultural exchange have included talking with a Nigerian man about dating/marriage customs, thinking that a Canadian couple wanted to use the washing machine instead of the toilet when they requested the wash room, and having to tell a persistent Haitian man that there was no way that we could date on the internet.
27). Mexicanisms. Mexicans are known for the incredible amount of slang that they incorporate into their daily conversation, and I have barely begun to scratch the surface in my understanding of mexicanismos. Since the first real place I learned Spanish was in Ecuador, I still have to fight the temptation to throw around the uniquely Ecuadorian words and phrases that I picked up in my five months there. I am learning the sing-song Mexican intonation that rises at the end of every phrase, but I am much slower to experiment with common Mexican exclamations (¡Orale! ¡Hijole! ¡Andale!) Part of me feels as if they sound like lies coming out of my foreign lips, but its just something that Im going to have to get over in my ever-present quest to become more Mexican. Beyond just words, I find the Mexican gesture of bending and unbending the index finger as a way of saying yes to be extremely endearing. It always reminds me of ET.
28). The Birthday Song. Here in Mexico, the singing of the birthday song lasts a bit longer than the singing of our version in the States, and its called Las Mañanitas. Every time I have to sing it, I get anxiety because I have not yet memorized the words, but nonetheless I still enjoy the change of pace from the droning repetition of our chorus. Its more lively, the song takes on more of a narrative tone, and somehow the whole thing feels more epic. Estas son las mañanitas que cantaba el rey David...
29). Hanging Out In Reception. One of my favorite spaces here in the Casa is the room right by the front door... the place where everything happens... the center of hellos and goodbyes and phone calls and emails and waiting and general mischief. I love to come down and chat with whoever happens to be (wo)manning the reception, settling into my couch cushion to observe the comfortable flow of people through the doors. The funny thing is that we have a camera which allows us to watch whoever it is that rings our bell, from guests to delivery men to relatives to wanderers. You just never know what kind of conversation you might overhear sitting down there... what gossip, what summary of the prior nights events... what food might be circulating around. I love it for its unpredictability and sense of sporadic activity.
30). Watching a Baby Grow Up. Last Saturday marked Agnitas first birthday, and it was truly a blockbuster event. I would be hard-pressed to find a baby whos more popular than our collective daughter Nita (barring, of course, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolies offspring). There were mountains of food, chocolate cupcakes, cheeseburgers off of the grill, a pinata, bright bouquets, streamers, buckets of fresh-squeezed juice...and just about every person ever associated with the Casa was present to celebrate Nitas first year of life. So many of the best moments here at the Casa have been facilitated by the baby. One night, we were all sitting around at the volunteers dinner trying to get her to roar like a lion. She watched us with eager, wide eyes, and eventually let one loose. She wouldnt stop roaring for the rest of the night, and it was nearly impossible to proceed with our meeting amidst the laughter. One of her classic moves is la viejita (the little old woman). She scrunches up her face and breathes in through her nose really quickly, and Kike, our beloved Cuban maintenance man, named it la viejita. Now, whenever we ask her to do it, she sniffs and scrunches and squeals with delight. Right now she is almost walking, and I cant wait to be around to see her first steps and shout out one of her favorite words: bravo!
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