I wandered out on Friday morning, intent on going to class after dropping my laundry off at the lavandaria. I changed my mind about halfway there and decided that I should probably head to the centro, mail some letters, and run some other random errands that I wanted to do before I left GTO. I determined my fate for the weekend and read through all of the lesson plans so I wouldn't feel guilty for skipping class. I am hoping that the notes that I took from the book will be serviceable for continuing to teach myself spanish as I travel through South America for the next... um... 4 months? I think that's right. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that my decision had something to do with the fact that I would be spending part of my evening and the greater part of Saturday volunteering for Amigos de los Animales and eventually partying with my friends later in the night.
Later in the afternoon, I made my way over to Sandra Ward's beautiful bright pink (kind of an oxymoron, no?) abode to help load things up for the steriliazation campaign. After meeting with a plethora of vets and other volunteers, we moved onward towards the Escuela Pipila--quite the ramshackle school that was allowing us to use their facilities for the weekend (It's always really hard to see how some classrooms look, though, the classroom doesn't really ever determine how well kids learn...). Setting up was simple enough, and I had more than enough time to get ready (i.e. change into my finest black t-shirt) to go out for one last hurrah in the GTO.
An aside: The centro historico in GTO is chalkful of relatively pricey restaurants, all with menus in English. Normally, this would defy all of my rules with regards to dining in foreign countries (both indicate that the food will be pricey and bad... usually). However, there are exceptions. You either deal with it for a better atmosphere, or because it's what everybody else does... Nowhere else in the town--or anywhere else for that matter--can you see hundreds of teens circling around the plaza, arm in arm, chatting with their friends. It reminded me a lot of how teenagers in small town and suburbs get really bored and drive to the parking lot of the nearest QFC. It's also pretty much all there is to do on a Friday night for local Guanajuatenses, leading me to the one rule that overrides the rest--when in Rome.
I woke up the next morning feeling a little crudo (insert hungover), but good enough to catch a ride to the school for the campaign. After shaking the hands of about 17 different vets/vet techs/volunteers, I was directed to help with the yardsale... I hated it too. One of the women that was helping wanted to buy everything for herself, and the other didn't want part with the things she was selling for a reasonable amount of money. Me, on the other hand, I love to hustle. I was wheelin and dealin, selling clothing like it was going out of style. It was a great situation for learning how to speak spanish, and also to compliment. Anyway, the women eventually drove me nuts, and I wandered off to find something else to do...
I found my way to a space in between prep and surgery. I learned how to hold cats and dogs when they receive anesthetic, as well as how to appropriately tie a square not, when tying a suture to close up a dog and or cat. Impressive, huh? The day allowed us to see over 40 animals, and an assortment of problems for all of them, from STD's to bite marks. It was an eye opening experience, that I will not forget anytime soon.
Another aside: I am kind of starting to wonder if people who hear about the Bonderman Fellowship secretly despise me. In order to go undercover, I have started to tell people that I will be returning to the states shortly, going home, etc.
After speeding in the cab to make it to the lavandaria in time to pick up my laundry, I passed out in order to wake up at dawn the next morning, and head to San Juan Teotihuacan. After missing the bus stop--after the 6 hour bus ride--I ended up at the pyramids themselves, and had to walk about a mile to get to my hotel. I dropped off my bags and headed out into the town. It took about 5 minutes--after having lived in GTO--to become bored out of my mind. After a bite to eat, I retired to my hotel room, where I watched horrible professional wrestling and a new episode of Anthony Bourdain... which was oddly only in English without subtitles on a Spanish television station...
With 12 hours of sleep, I was ready to go to the Pyramids of Teotihuacan as the roosters began to crow in the morning. I got up and made the mistake of eating the crappy hotel breakfast--something that No Reservations and Anthony Bourdain had warned me about the night before. Something about the breakfast made me feel like staying in S.J.T. wasn't probably the best idea...
Mondays at the pyramids are very different, especially from the weekend days, when Mexican families come en mass and cover the pyramid with a plethora of shirt colors. Monday, this Monday, was a different story. Monday was mine. I was the first person to the Pyramid on Monday morning, and I had the top all to myself for the next thirty minutes. I don't know what it is about high places, and me having them all to myself, but I am really starting to enjoy it. Eventually, my peace was interrupted by a large, boisterous, group of Lithuanian tourists. It was then that I realized that I couldn't have the Pyramids--I couldn't have Teotihuacan--to myself forever. It was then that I had my first of what will most likely be many deviations from the plan (I'm still not sure what the plan is).
Though I had already paid for the second night, I went back to the hotel after my tour of the ancient pre-hispanic city, determined to get a change of scenery. I got my money, got my bags, went to the bus stop, hopped on the next bus--while it was still moving nonetheless--and left town for the Federal District. Once I arrived, I paid four times the cost of my bus ride for a taxi to the center, then copped some grub.
It was at this restaurant that I met this guy Jorge, who works for the Secretary of the State, in the Palacio Federal. After we finished our plates of salsa laden pork, he took it upon himself to give me a private tour of the Federal building. I'm still not sure if he did it because I told him I was a political sciences and econ major, or if he felt a bond as a result of the fact that we ate the same thing. Either way, I'm glad it happened...
I think I'm starting to get used to this traveling thing.
2 comments:
Why do you think people hate you because you're a Bonderman Fellow? Are they jealous?
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