After one week in class

I’ve made it through my first week of Master’s degree Boot Camp, and I’ve enjoyed both of  the classes so far–Text Interpretation and Introduction to Social Sciences. I’ve been very hesitant to speak, though, because I know that I’m nervous, and nervous Rachel (no, not Ranchel…as I’m STILL listed on the attendance sheet) speaks pretty bad Spanish. Luckily, we’ve got a few of what my mom likes to call “red hots”–those folks who eagerly will volunteer any thought that comes into their head, for the benefit of the rest of us (if you missed the sarcasm, I actually find this behavior rather irritating). But I think that as I feel more comfortable with the program and my classmates, I’ll participate more. I know it’s hard to imagine that I could be shy, but as I’ve said before, speaking a language that’s not your own is a pretty quick way to lose your confidence.

There are some new things to get used to, of course, besides the language barrier. Basically, we are responsible for obtaining the readings–getting the copies made, that is. Since there’s no system in place, for every new reading, we either make a plan that someone will make copies for everyone, or we don’t make a plan, and then it’s every student for his or her respective self. So far, this has meant two extra trips (from home) to the campus library to get copies made. I find it to be a very inefficient system, but there is some benefit to shifting the burden from professor to student–we will take the effort to do it cheaply. The “course packets”  of photocopied articles that we had to buy in college were exorbitant–far more expensive than a book. And when the professor provided copies, I’m guessing that our sky-high tuition was paying for that in some way. So even though it’s annoying, spending a few dollars a week and some extra schlepping on copies is still saving a lot of money in the long run.

Another change is that the content that we’re learning is very structured. Because we are all in the same program (Regional Studies) and taking the same classes, it is actually possible to start everyone with the same foundation of the most basic basics! We are learning about the scientific method, the most mundane details of exactly how to conduct an investigation–it seems overly formal to me, but it’s also making me realize how different a U.S. education is. Since we had so much freedom in our selecting our classes, any given group of students came to the table with a huge range of previous experience. Very little time was spent on HOW to do things–you just had to figure it out as you went along. Even the academic books I was reading at the end of college, though they were organized, they were not rigidly structured. Being forced to adopt these structures is probably good for me, even if it doesn’t end up being the way I do things forever.

However, the structure we’re asked to maintain in our academic work does not correlate to a well-organized program. In general, we’ve been kept very much in the dark about what classes we will have, and when, and only one professor has provided a syllabus, which was instantly out of date when the administration made schedule changes. Not to mention that classes started almost a month late! This makes it really difficult to plan things in advance: there is no yearlong academic calendar, no indication of when final papers will be due, or when vacations will be. Paco’s experienced similar things in his program, so I know that it’s not unique to my (potential) school. I’m trying to go with the flow instead of being frustrated about something that’s totally out of my control. One week at a time!

Life is a lentil…

Either you take it, or you leave it.

That bit of wisdom was written in Sharpie on a metal utility cover in downtown Guadalajara. I don’t really know what it means, but I like lentils, and I like life, so I guess I thought it would be a good way to start this entry.

Besides leaving my country, family and friends behind when I moved here, I also left school: apparently, once you’ve graduated, college is actually over. This is my first autumn without a back-to-school since I was about 2 feet tall. In the absence of school or work,  I’ve taken up another profession–stay-at-home fiancée. Less well known than the stay-at-home mom, my occupation involves reading the New York Times online, drinking a lot of coffee, and considering the possibility of cleaning some part of the apartment. Canelo likes to help by walking on the keyboard, attacking anything that moves, and engaging me in protracted conversations consisting of meows.

This wasn’t what I had envisioned doing before I moved here. I expected to dive into a more concrete research project that would help me learn more about Mexico. But actually, keeping the apartment running puts me in the same position as the many women who live in my neighborhood. I’m learning a lot while getting groceries! Though I haven’t been brave enough to strike up a conversation with my neighbors so far, the little intricacies of domestic life shape my days, too. I wanted to share some of these experiences, and today, it’s all about food.

Keeping the kitchen stocked is a much more complicated endeavor than it is in the United States, mainly because the “supermarket” as we know it, doesn’t really exist here. The closest substitute would be Walmart, or one of a few chains of Mexican megastores. But these places can be very expensive, and their produce is terrifying. The best option for fruits and vegetables is the tianguis: the weekly market set up in different neighborhoods on different days of the week. I’d hesitate to call it a “farmer’s market,” which tends to be a more upscale institution in the United States. The tianguis features fresh produce, tacos, pirated CDs, cheap kitchen supplies, makeup, and garage-sale type “crud,” as my dad would say. The sellers are pretty vocal, making it a cacophony of “Delicious ice cream! Delicious ice cream!” “Tomatoes, come get your tomatoes!” “Come on over, friend!” “What can we get for you, güerita?” (güerita means “light skinned girl,” and that’s what most people call me here).

The problem with the tianguis is that it’s not always there, and it doesn’t have everything. I buy cereal, milk, and juice at the nearby pharmacy. And then of course, there’s the tiendita: the corner store, for last minute purchases. It is pretty convenient to live next door to a tiendita.

Tortillas, the most important food in the Mexican diet, are available at the tienditas, in tortillerías, or from trucks that circle around at lunch time (2-4 pm) announcing on a loudspeaker, “Hot tortillas, directly to your house, we also have dough.” For Paco, a meal isn’t a meal unless it has tortillas. I love tortillas, but sometimes they seem a little excessive: do we really need to eat them with pasta? I think often about how they are equivalent to baguettes in France, or rice in Asia: a staple. All these cultures have developed dishes to use their staple after it’s passed its prime: croutons, fried rice, and tostadas (fried tortillas). Growing up in the United States, I expect variety in my carbohydrates, from bread, to pasta, to rice, to potatoes. Of course, Mexicans eat all of these things, too, but the tortilla reigns supreme.

One of my favorite ways to use old tortillas is to make chilaquiles, a traditional breakfast dish. Old tortillas are first fried, and then cooked in a puree of tomatoes and onions. Once soft, they are served with shredded chicken or hardboiled or fried egg. With a few slices of onion and a little bit of cheese and sour cream on top, it’s a very filling and satisfying meal. Interestingly, it’s also the dish I ordered at the restaurant on the night I met Paco, and I learned to make them by watching his mother (she’s a fantastic cook).

I mentioned earlier that food at Walmart can be expensive, but I think this needs some more explanation. Overall, food in Mexico is quite inexpensive–if it’s domestically produced. That is, Mexican sodas, tortillas, snack foods, restaurant fare are all cheap by American standards. Foods produced by American companies for the Mexican market cost the same as they do in the States, but that makes them expensive by comparison. For example, a loaf of Wonder Bread costs about the same as 2 or 2.5 kilos of tortillas–you get a lot more bang for your peso if you buy local products.

As you may have read, I miss goat cheese. Goat cheese is actually available here, but for the 50 pesos I would spend on it, I could get a steak dinner and a soda at a restaurant. This comparison also makes it hard for me to justify buying a bottle of wine or a bag of chocolate chips. Of course, in the United States, these didn’t seem like unreasonable purchases, since everything is pretty expensive.

So even though I’ve chosen to give up some favorite foods in hopes of saving money, there are so many wonderful and new things here to try that I hardly feel deprived. One of my favorites is nopales: cactus leaves. At the market, vendors cut off the spikes, and they can be sautéed with other vegetables, roasted dry on a griddle, or incorporated fresh into a smoothie. Another new discovery is huitlacoche, a fungus that grows on ears of corn that is actually edible (U.S. farmers call it “corn smut”). It’s considered a delicacy here, and it tastes like a smoky mushroom. It is mindblowing to have avocados and limes so available and so cheap–I won’t even tell you how cheap.

I’m considering starting an online recipe file with some of the dishes I’ve mentioned here: let me know if that sounds interesting to you. Meanwhile, I’m going to go make a cactus smoothie.