Economics With A Face

« July 2005 | Main | September 2005 »

August 31, 2005

Blessing of the Animals

Today we adventured around the city of Oaxaca , ran some errands, and tried some more good food. We also finally made it to the post office to buy stamps to get some postcards off.

At 4:00 in the afternoon we headed to the east side of town to La Iglesia de Merced. Today was the annual blessing of the animals at the church. Truthfully, it was hilarious. Dogs, cats, parrots, roosters, horses, and more all dressed up and ready to be blessed. The ceremony lasted about 2 hours and we made sure to get a ton of pictures.

Over dinner, we were approached by a young man that wanted to know if we wanted to be extras in a Jack Black movie called "Nacho Libre" that is going to be directed by the same guy who directed Napoleon Dynamite. Unfortunately, filming isn't for another three weeks so, reluctantly, we had to decline. It's due out in 2007 to 2008 and he said the name would probably change, but it sounds like it will be a funny flick.

Tomorrow is our last day in Oaxaca as we will be catching a night bus to San Cristòbal. We just keep on moving.

Posted by Peter Mork at 5:33 PM | Comments | TrackBack

Really, You Went to Cuba? How Was It?

It’s a question I’ve heard many times after my one week stay in Havana and it’s a hard one to answer. In truth I didn’t find the country I expected.

A few years ago, at a friend’s birthday party, a young Mexican-American college student who described himself as left of center politically told me about his recent experience in the country. “Here, you and I have dreams and goals,” he told me. “There, people have no aspirations and don’t think past today.” He described a taxi ride he took where he asked the driver how life was in Cuba. It was fine, the driver had told him bluntly. When he pressed the man saying that things did not appear fine in the country, the driver raised a pointed finger to his lips, signaling him to be quiet. “It was bizarre,” he told me, “we were the only two people in the car and no one else was around to hear the conversation.” That scene stuck with me.

Additionally, I’ve kept up over the years on news coming out of the communist state. Everyone knows that life isn’t easy on the island. Cuba is a third world country where most of its government’s policies guarantee it will remain as such. I knew that despite a guarantee of food for every Cuban, after the collapse of the Soviet Union people were starving. I had also read that although healthcare was supposedly a right, ordinary Cubans had very limited access to medicine. And how could one ignore the thousands of Cubans who risk their lives at sea to reach Florida on what could hardly be called boats. (Click here for some recent statistics about Cuba under Castro’s rule).

Of course, I also understood that oppression was inherent within the regime. Political prisoners had existed since the days of the revolution. In 2003 Castro had added 70 more high profile cases to this number throwing journalists, poets, and librarians behind bars. To keep up on these events Mary O’Grady′s column in the Wall Street Journal was a great source on Friday mornings at work. She is one of the few columnists that keeps the repression within Cuba in the mainstream press.

Despite my research on Cuba, one thing that was unclear was what kind of contact I would be able to have with Cubans as a foreigner. I had read in a manual for working with the democracy movement in Cuba that dissidents welcomed contact with international visitors. Talking with various people about this idea during my week long trip drew different opinions. Some strongly encouraged me to do so, while others advised me I might be putting these Cubans in further danger. The last thing I wanted to do was putting anyone’s safety in jeopardy so I decided it was not worth the risk. Still, I scribbled down on a random page of my Lonely Planet Guide the address of dissident economist Martha Roque in case it did look feasible once I was inside Cuba.

***

Landing in Havana my nerves were a bit on edge. As a strong believer in small constitutional government, individual rights, and the idea your life is your own (not a means for the state to accomplish its ends), Castro’s government in theory stood against all these core principles. My first experiences lived up to my expectations. My bag was held up at the airport for 2 hours because I had a video camera packed inside. After a long wait standing in the declaration line during which I watched Cubans’ luggage torn apart to reveal them bringing in over-the-counter medicine and other supplies, it was finally my turn to have my belongings searched. The customs agent did not seem concerned that I might sell the camera in the country, but instead wanted to make sure that I was a tourist and did not have friends or family inside Cuba. It was the type of atmosphere I had expected.

But shortly afterwards one of my first interactions with Cubans threw me for a bit of a loop. I had expected that dealing with employees of the government, which of course is the largest employer in Cuba, would be similar to dealing with employees of the DMV back in the States. After all, what incentive did people have to please the consumer if this was not who they ultimately answered to? On top of that I had a U.S. passport, which I thought might be a turnoff to many. These assumptions turned out to be proved inaccurate.

Although it was now 2:30am in the morning, the men at the state travel agency in the airport were astonishingly friendly and helpful. They joked, laughed, and put us as ease as they diligently called all around the city trying to find us the best deal for a hotel once we learned that the hotel we had in mind was booked. They knew it was important to find us a cheap place since, as Americans, we could only spend what we carried in cash. Yet they wanted to make sure were still in a good location so we would enjoy the trip. Instead of the DMV, it felt like we were dealing with employees of a 5-star hotel. The only difference was that once a hotel was found they made sure I knew that the price they had secured didn’t include their tip, so maybe there were some incentives involved after all. Still, I was impressed.

Throughout the week I would have many more interesting experiences with people in Cuba that truthfully defined the trip.

The next day for example, only a few blocks from the hotel, I found myself in a living room that had been transformed into a private restaurant. It was here that I had some of the most interesting conversations of the trip. I had expected Cubans to be tight lipped and fearful when talking to a foreigner about their government. But in this small room, far removed from the street, they had no problems voicing their discontent. Here is an excerpt from my daily log:

Things are bad here they made clear, and not only because of the poverty. “The tourists stay in the hotels and don’t know how we really live,” they stressed.

Twice during the lunch strangers entered the paladar. The owner, who was now posted outside the room, would make conversation with them as they approached and our conversation would quiet. Each time someone entered there seemed to be an awkward feeling in the room, but soon they would start talking amongst themselves and before long the conversation had returned to normal.

They told us their salaries. Our guide, who had remained relatively quiet during the conversation, occasionally translating words or phrases we might miss, made $10 convertibles a month cleaning offices; the same cost as our lunch. The enfermero made $14. “You can’t live off this salary,” they said.

An older man who had entered the restaurant started up a conversation with the others about three young girls in one of the apartments below. Their mother was currently in jail for crime of approaching a tourist at the beach and asking for money. The man said “Fidel says there are millions of children in the world homeless and going hungry, but not one resides in Cuba. Yet look, there are three one floor below.” This reminded me of an acquaintance who had used Fidel’s same line years ago when we were debating the merits of Communism.

They talked about how while the medical care was free, no one could afford the medicine, and thus, what good was it? When I asked what would happen if we were to have this conversation on the street the enfermero told me he would be labeled as a counter-revolutionary and thrown in jail. They talked about how in the countryside the people had it worse, yet these were the same people that cheered Fidel and loved him the most. When I asked why they said it was something psychological, that they have nothing and he gives them something. In the capital, like in any capital in the world, people have more exposure to the outside world, and with this came more discontent.

It continued. They talked about how they thought the children were not getting enough to eat, how it was illegal to eat beef, and that people could be thrown in prison for owning and slaughtering a cow. “We’re like India,” the enfermero told me, “but without the religion.” “Young boys need protein,” he said, and he thought kids were not growing as they should be.

Some talked of relatives in the U.S. and how much better life was there. When I asked if they had the money and wanted to use the internet, could they? They said no. When I said that some people in the U.S. think Castro does many things well they scoffed loudly with looks of disgust on their face and simply said that these people don’t understand how life really is in Cuba.

I don’t remember every bit of the conversation but the message was clear: things are bad here, we’re denied rights the tourists have, and the outside world doesn’t know how we really living. At one point the enfermero looked me in the eyes and spoke slowly to make sure I understood: “Your system is not perfect,” he told me “but our system is much worse.” That summed up the conversation.

Like many tourists we also had firsthand experiences with Jineteros, young Cuban men who leeched onto tourists acting as guides for free drinks or some cash. I had read how this was a common practice and thus didn’t mind treating a guide and his friends to a few drinks. But I was also caught off guard by the dishonest tactics of a few we encountered later on in the trip.

Still, I sympathize with many of these young men my age. They were trapped in dead-end jobs that locked them out of any contact with tourists and the money they brought in tow. This money was the only source of a better life and so they picked up a little English, Italian, and French to try to improve their lives. Another experience that increased my empathy towards them, as well as shook me up a good deal, was watching three of these young men arrested for the crime of talking to an undercover policeman disguised as a tourist.

It was soon apparent that there was a sort of division between those who were employed in the government hotels and restaurants and those like the Jineteros who were not. While friendly, the hotel employees seemed more reserved and less willing to talk beyond surface conversations. But during my week in Havana Hurricane Dennis hit the island. This meant that once the power went out in the city, for several hours many hotel employees and guests were stuck in the lobby together listening to radio reports as the wind howled outside. This gave me an opportunity to actually have some meaningful conversations with a few of the workers. We talked about everything from sports, to their family members in the U.S. and my life there, to how they too were unsatisfied with their lives on the island. Once again I found people just like me, yet forced to live their lives in a less than ideal situation.

An additional enlightening interaction with Cubans came in our final days of the trip when we stayed in the suburbs of the city at another casa particular. Our hosts wanted to make sure that we got to see another side of Cuba to which we had not yet been exposed. It was another interesting and passionate talk. The point was not that life was perfect in Cuba, it wasn’t, but instead that it is not as bad as they felt it was portrayed by the U.S. media. And the comforts they enjoyed, partially thanks to their license that allowed them to rent out a room in their house, partially proved this point. A television, VCR, a nice apartment, and most surprisingly to me cell phone that was mainly used to send emails back and forth to family in the U.S. gave the appearance of a normal life back home.

They were also very critical of the U.S. immigration policy towards Cuba. They pulled out passports to show how they had been denied visas by the U.S. government to visit a niece for her high school graduation. It was proof to them that the U.S. wanted the image of immigrants risking their life at sea to stress how horrible life was in Cuba. Why, they asked, if the concern was for the Cuban people would they not let her simply fly to the United States if this was something the Cuban government was willing to let her do? While I was only in this suburb of the city for two days it gave me a different perspective on the country.

To add yet one more perspective, sitting in the Havana airport just prior to leaving the island, I met an employee of the U.S. Interest Section who was on the same flight. When he heard that I used to work for an economist he said in his prior job he was given the task of attempting to teach free-market economics to congressmen and congresswomen on the Hill. I enquired about his employer and had to chuckle when he said he worked for the Cato Institute. Not surprisingly, in our brief chat he offered a view of the island from a unique perspective, especially with regards to immigration. He explained to me a lottery system that allowed some of the half-million Cubans who had applied for amnesty with the U.S. Interest Section years ago to immigrate to the U.S. It goes without saying that, like me, he was no fan of Castro.

While the descriptions above in no way cover all the conversations and people I met in Cuba, they do give a decent overview of some of the people on the island that helped to form my experience. Spending just one week in the country in many ways opened up more questions than it provided answers that I was seeking. Nonetheless, it was time and money well spent. The biggest benefit I gained from the trip was that Cuba’s problems are now very personal. News stories coming out of Cuba are no longer simply names in an article, but are now, very clearly, real people suffering under an unjust government.

***

Once I had left Cuba, and began relaying my experience to others, I quickly realized that it was a subject that aroused deep emotions. There has been plenty of criticism.

Some have thought that I went into Cuba with a negative view of its Communist government and did not report in an evenhanded fashion. Others don’t directly challenge my experience, but instead immediately defend Cuba by quickly changing the subject to how much worse life would is in other countries, or how the U.S. itself is hardly a role model in many regards. Still others find my negative assessment of aspects of Cuba so to their displeasure that they chose to simply ignore it altogether.

Of course, my belief that Communism is an immoral form of governance did not make grey police vans appear out of thin air to haul away young Cubans for speaking to tourists, nor did it create the discontent that was apparent in so many conversations. As for changing the subject of the discussion, or ignoring my reporting completely, all I can say is that these tactics don’t alter the wrongs I did experience in the country.

It’s a little peculiar how many good-intentioned people insist on defending a system I know they deep down must oppose. If the leader of Cuba was named Bush instead of Castro there is no way they would stand for 46 years of rule without an election, of a government-run press, or of the jailing of people who speak out against the regime. I know these defenses partially stem from a desire to find some sort of an alternative to U.S. capitalism. Still, it is no excuse.

Castro does his best to get people to play right into his hands, and many do just that. The government papers read of Cuba’s organic farming projects, new graduates from medical school, and wage increases for healthcare workers and teachers. Cuba’s defenders know that all these things are good and I think many start to believe that these ends signify they can ignore the means. Castro’s hope, and it seems to work, is that by the time tourists get to the last page of the paper that justifies jailing independent librarians, all the good press will be enough of a reason to turn a blind eye to such a violation of basic rights. Again, there is no rationale for not seeing through this kind of propaganda.

On the other hand, not everyone has been as critical. A few weeks after the trip while describing some of my experiences to classmates in Mexico, one student in the class, who had lived the first 27 years of her life in the Soviet Union, had quite a different reaction. “That’s why I have no desire to go to Cuba,” she told the class. “I experienced those same things for too many years: not being allowed to speak with tourists, arrests for trivial offenses, repression of all sorts. There are just too many other places in the world I want to see before heading back to a place like that.”

Many others take a genuine interest after initially not really knowing much about Cuban life. “I’ve always wanted to go to Cuba,” I’ll hear. But in the next breath, after I’ve relayed some of my stories, they say “Wait, what do you mean there isn’t a free press?” or “What do you mean businesses were illegal prior to 1993?” Afterwards, it usually proceeds into some thoughtful conversations.

Another positive reaction is the response from Mexicans we’ve met during our travels through the country. Many of these people consider themselves left-of-center politically, but unlike some Americans, they don’t associate being left-of-center with the need to defend socialism. They already know a quite a bit about how difficult life can be in Cuba, are interested in the topic, and truthfully appreciate a first hand account of the island.

***

None of this is to say that one week in Havana somehow makes me an expert on the country. It’s clear to me being a foreigner and spending only a week in the country limited what I could see and, at times, I was in a little in over my head. Still, the interactions I had in Cuba were real and nothing can change that fact. While some might be put off by my reporting thinking I put Cuba in too negative of a light, in some ways I think it is just the opposite. If anything my daily travelogue only scratches the surface of the repression that exists in Cuba.

For example, one of my biggest regrets is not meeting with dissidents inside the country. These are the people who feel the wrath of Castro’s dictatorship most directly for simply daring to criticize the regime. The stories of those who Castro wishes to silence the most certainly would have been insightful and is something my reporting lacks.

Case in point, ten days after I left the country, Martha Roque, the economist whose address I secretly carried but was not able to meet with, was arrested at her home in Havana. She and along with 20 other Cubans were taken to prison for planning a small public demonstration. Shortly afterwards she was freed but 10 of the original 20 that were arrested still remain in prison. What would she have had to tell me about life in Cuba? How does she feel living under a system that has provided her with a free education, but then throws her in jail when she uses that education to think freely?

I would love to travel back to Cuba and ask her personally. Unfortunately, I still don’t know how it would affect her safety. In addition, after the publication of my travelogue and articles I have doubts I’d be let back into the country. I’ll have to wait until Castro’s regime falls, which won’t happen a day too soon.

Still, I’m an optimist. As I said at the beginning of the essay I did not find the country I expected. Instead of finding a country whose citizens live under the complete control of a dictator, I found people willing to exchange ideas, form their own opinions, and criticize the regime that would prefer they be muzzled.

In short, Castro doesn’t have enough guns to completely stifle all the freedoms he would like to suppress. That can only bode well for the future of the country and the changes it will undoubtedly soon face. These freedoms will be needed to make a Cuban government “of the people, by the people, and for the people.” The Cubans I met during my trip deserve nothing less.

Posted by Peter Mork at 4:36 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 30, 2005

Reading Material

Today, after breakfast, we dropped off our dirty clothes at a laundry mat on the corner and then found a hostel for some cheaper accommodations. The place we found is only a few blocks farther from the main plaza but considerably cheaper.

Once we were settled we set out to explore the town. We found a fantastic bookstore and loaded up on quite a few new books that should only add about 20 plus lbs to the weight of my backpack. Hey, at least I'm staying in shape.

We went to an internet café to upload photos and to update the site, but when we were about halfway through a rainstorm slowed the internet connection to a snails pace.

The hostel we are in is a bit noisy but sleeping in bunk beds in our tiny room is fun. Tomorrow we'll be exploring more of the city.

Posted by Peter Mork at 5:30 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 29, 2005

Oaxaca

We got up, had some breakfast, packed our bags, and then taxied it to the bus station to head to Oaxaca and southern Mexico. Another successful Mexico City taxi ride. All in all I felt that we saw a lot of Mexico City. Our legs and feet are sore but it was worth it.

The bus ride to Oaxaca was beautiful. The majority of the road was atop high mountains looking down into deep valleys bellow where white goats were making their way along the mountainside. Even better there was only one other person on the bus besides ourselves so it was like we had chartered the trip ourselves.

Once in Oaxaca we ran into one of our friends Jonathan, a 23 year-old from Isreal who took classes with us in Guanajuato. He was on his way to San Cristobal, our next stop as well, and he gave us some pointers on what to do in Oaxaca before his bus departed.

We were unable to locate a hostel that had a room available so we settled for a mid-range hotel near the city center. Tonight we splurged on dinner at a great restaurant across the street from the hotel. Mole Negro is the specialty down here so I made it my main course; Em had a chile relleno stuffed with corn and shredded pork.

After dinner we walked around the town a bit and then headed back to the hotel to get some sleep.

Posted by Peter Mork at 5:26 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 28, 2005

San Angel and Coyoacan

Today we set out early to head down south via metro to the San Angel and Coyoacan neighborhoods of Mexico City. Before we left we went to investigate all the cheering that was coming from the main plaza near our hotel. The streets were also absolutely empty of traffic. It turns out there was a marathon going on that was concluding in the Zocalo. Having run the San Diego marathon this past June, I was impressed how well people were running here with the altitude and the pollution. Luckily, it was a beautiful, clear day.

Due to our Lonely Plane induced fears of catching a taxi off the street we've literally been walking all around the city. It's been a great way to get to really know the area but it is taking a bit of a toll on our feet. Heading to Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo's house we got a bit turned around in a neighborhood that featured some of the most beautiful homes we have seen in the city. Luckily a security guard for one of the houses, decked out in a bulletproof vest, helped us get back on track from behind a gated entrance. We thought, maybe Vicente Fox´s neighborhood?

We finally reached Diego and Frida's home, which was quite impressive and different, and in a great part of town. Diego´s studio itself was quite a site to see: a huge open room with lofts. He and Frida were socialists; supporters of Trotsky and then of Stalin. It is always ironic to me how people like this tend to continue living in the lap of luxury.

We next walked another hour plus across town to Coyoacan to see the house in which Frida Kahlo grew up in and where she eventually died; now it is a museum devoted to her. There was a good deal of her art here, but I was more interested in checking out the titles on her bookshelf which had not been disturbed since her death. This neighborhood of the city has the feeling of a small town which made the walk all the more enjoyable. Mexico City natives were everywhere enjoying the Sunday afternoon with music and a huge craft fair.

After the museum, we ate at a great Uruguayan restaurant in one of the plazas before catching the metro home. Once in the historic center of the city, Em broke down and had a 30-cent McDonalds ice-cream cone. Somehow I had a horrible headache that wouldn't go away so I went to bed pretty early. Tomorrow we are leaving for Oaxaca.

Posted by Peter Mork at 5:22 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 27, 2005

Teotihuacán, Wal-Mart, and more…

Today we woke up and after breakfast caught the metro out to the Northern bus terminal to catch a ride to Teotihuacán, site of the famous Pyramids of the Sun and the Moon. The Pyramid of the Sun is the third largest pyramid in the world and the entire site is described as one of the must-see attractions in Mexico City. Once we were aboard the bus it took about an hour to travel the 50km. It went by quick though as two guitar players boarded the bus to play for tips and kept us entertained throughout the ride.

The Pyramid of the Sun was visible from quite a distance away as we approached on the highway. The bus pulled up to the outskirts of the ancient city and although it was full of people we were the only two to get off. The rest were continuing on to San Juan Teotihuacán. We made our way through the parking lot and past a cluster of shops to enter the grounds.

It is simply amazing that these structures and complex cities were built nearly 2000 years ago. Teotihuacán clearly had an economy that incorporated a good deal of division of labor (although the means might be suspect). Yet despite its greatness in many regards, as we all know, it would eventually collapse for reasons that are still debated today.

Standing atop the Pyramid of the Sun all these thoughts were passing through my head as I also observed today's civilization that was clearly visible from the vantage point. At each entrance to the site there were various small shops. To the southwest there was a large power plant, a starting point for electrical wires and polls that made their way throughout the large valley. Directly to the west lay the center of San Juan, although in any direction you looked houses and businesses could be seen. In spite of all this development there was one structure I was unable to locate, a new Wal-Mart that had drawn quite a bit of international attention just this last year.

"Wal-Mart to Open Near Mexican Pyramids" cried AP headlines last November. It was the ultimate symbol of a corporation intruding on a culture symbol, and not surprisingly this enraged many across the world. But as I noted at the time not everyone thought this was a bad idea.

After the long decent down the face of the pyramid, we jumped in a taxi to take a look at the town and grab some lunch. I asked the driver where the Wal-Mart was located (to be clear it's actually not even a Wal-Mart, it is a Bodega Aurrera, a subsidiary of the firm). It was south of the main square he told me. When I inquired about the protests that surrounded its opening, he confirmed that there was quite a commotion at the time.

"What do you think about it?" Emily asked.

"Truthfully," he replied in passionate Spanish, "I think the protesters are all nuts."

He went on to say how half of the protesters were store owners that didn't want the competition, how the jobs were better at the new store, and that while the protesters wanted the world to believe the store was being built a stone´s throw from the pyramids, nothing could be further from the truth. To get his point across he threw in quite a few expletives that had me and Em laughing in the backseat. By the end of our ride there was no mistaking his point of view: Wal-Mart was a good thing for their small community.

Once we had eaten lunch we set off on foot to take a look at the store ourselves. Passing by various shops selling an assortment of products along the way made it look like other businesses were doing reasonably well. I'm sure that the increased competition hurt, but we were not walking through a ghost town of empty storefronts where thriving businesses once existed.

The Bodega Aurrera was on the outskirts of the business section, nowhere near the pyramids, and in many ways not what I had expected. Not only was it much smaller than the Wal-Marts back home (or even in other parts of Mexico), there were no obvious signs on the building or elsewhere advertising the store's name. Yet I guess there was no need for such direct advertising, as people seemed to know exactly what was inside. Shoppers flooding in and out showed that the business was clearly busy. Em took a picture of the outside of the store in the parking lot, but a security guard quickly asked us to put the camera away. He told us that If we would like, we could ask management for permission, but due to all the negative publicity the store had received we would need their ok first.

Inside it was just like any well run department store or market you could find anywhere in the world. Clothes, beauty products, fresh fruit and vegetables… you name it. I've heard complaints throughout the trip how expensive electronics are in Mexico compared to the U.S. but in this store the prices seemed very comparable. A 5-disc DVD player went for a little over $600 pesos (around $60 USD). Everywhere you looked there seemed to be happy customers filling their shopping carts. We joined in and bought some basic supplies we needed for the trip.

I talked with a few employees about the store but for the most part they seemed to be tight lipped and downplayed any tension between the local business community and the location near the pyramids. Yes, they said, there were some protests at first but everyone seemed to like the store now. It seemed they had orders to keep quiet about all these issues so I just went about finishing my shopping.

We caught a taxi back to the pyramids and were soon heading back to Mexico City on the bus. We actually passed the Wal-Mart on the way out and it was ironic to see a large hotel right next to the store. It was painted a similar color and was a similar size but I don´t remember reading an uproar around the world about hotel corporations invading this sacred land. Wonder why?

Back in the city we stopped by an internet café to check email before heading back to our room. Quite appropriately Radley had this post on a new Wal-Mart that went up yesterday in Oakland:

August 26, 2005
WalMart Comes to Oakland
And Oakland rejoices.
11,000 people applied for the 400 available positions, and shoppers swarmed the store on its opening day. The store received no city subsidies, and still pays its employees an average above the city's (moronic) "living wage" law, even though it isn't required to.
It wasn't without a fight. Only one member of the Oakland city council attended the opening-day festivities. Others fought to keep the store ought, including passing an ordinance prohibiting retail stores of more than 200,000 square feet from opening shop in the city. That ordinance basically meant WalMart couldn't open one of its "superstores." WalMart Superstores also host a grocery store, with fresh produce at low prices. Keep the Oakland city council's ordinance in mind the next time some leftist public health activist complains about how urban populations don't have access to fresh fruit and vegetables.

Read the whole thing.

Walking back to the hotel we stopped for a few more licuados and then called it a night.

Posted by Peter Mork at 5:16 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 26, 2005

The Stock Exchange, The Zoo, and Art Galore

Today it felt like we walked all over the city. We started off by walking down to the Zona Rosa where we got to go inside the Bolsa Mexicana de Valores, or in English, Mexico's Stock Exchange. It is all electronic now so there was not as much action as I had hoped for, but it was still fun to look around the place.

We then made our way down the Paseo de la Reforma to a park called Bosque de Chapultepec. There we saw the Museum of Modern Art, the famous Museum of Anthropology, and we got a glimpse of the Chapultepec Zoo. Luckily, we made it in time to see the giant pandas before the exhibit closed. I could tell that Em was missing the San Diego Zoo.

For dinner we headed south of the park to a lively zone called Condesa. We ate sushi tonight (we are definitely taking advantage of all that the big city has to offer). We caught the metro back to the hotel as the sun was setting and prepared for our day tomorrow at Teotihuacán, first grabbing a Liquado con leche y mango at the smoothie place next to our hotel.

Posted by Peter Mork at 5:13 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 25, 2005

Surviving el D.F.

The combo of our Lonely Planet book's Dangers and Annoyances sections, along with horror stories and advice to avoid the Districto Federal altogether from residents of Northern Mexico, had us a little on edge as we pulled into the bus station in still-dark Mexico city at 6:30 in the morning.

Things didn't seem any more secure when I found out the hostel we planned to stay in, which had a shuttle service from the bus station, had gone out of business. So in its place we found a decent priced hotel in the Centro Historico that had a room available. We got a ticket from the authorized taxi stand inside the terminal and after warily checking out our taxi driver and matching the license plate number to the one painted on the side, we were soon off to the hotel. The ride, of course, was perfectly fine, and so was our nice taxi driver.

The hotel is perfect and they put us on the top floor so we have a bit of a view. Since neither of us slept that well on the bus we crashed for a few hours in the room. Once up we grabbed a bite to eat in Chinatown, which wasn't too far from the hotel. We walked around the city a bit and went to the Diego Rivera mural museum located in the city park, Alamada Central across the way. Rivera´s mural "Sueño de una tarde Dominical en la Alameda Central" or "A Dream of a Sunday afternoon in the Alameda Central," housed in the museum depicts all sorts of figures from Mexico´s history.

Instead of dinner tonight we headed to a place that serves churros and chocolate, one of my favorites in Spain. It definitely lived up to expectations.

All in all it was a good day and we've definitely gotten a little more comfortable in the city.

Posted by Peter Mork at 5:08 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 24, 2005

From Beach Bums to Chilangos

We spent today at another beach to the north. After a good lunch, some jewelry bardering, and boogie boarding (Em and Jill were completely taken out by a few waves), we strolled through a time-share where various families were enjoying their vacations in a pretty elaborate pool. Em and Jill jumped in quickly to cool off. It's incredible how much quality development has been built north of Puerto Vallarta, but it still has maintained a small Mexican coastal town feel.
After heading back to the house and packing up we set off to pick up our business cards before catching our bus. On the way, the rain started to come down in buckets. By this time we were also running late, so Joanne had to do her best impression of an Indy Car driver to get us to the bus station on time. Needless to say, we are completely impressed with her driving ability in Mexico . We made it with no less than a few minutes to spare. We said goodbye and thanked them for the wonderful, relaxing time. It was just what we needed before taking on the metropolis of Mexico City.

Once on the night bus we were asleep pretty quickly, and the twelve hours went by in a flash.

Posted by Peter Mork at 5:06 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 23, 2005

Relaxing in Nayarit

Today we drove out to a little beach about 20 minutes north of the house called Sayulita. We ate fish tacos under a palapa at the beach and spent the afternoon enjoying the weather and watching the surfers. At about 4:00 we headed back into town to take a look at the proofs they had put together for our business cards. We picked one out and they look like they are going to be great.

For dinner Joanne drove us out to Punta Mita for dinner. The waiter set up a table for us on the beach with tiki torches. It felt like we were back in Baja having lobster on the beach. During dinner a huge lightening storm started off in the distance. I got a few pictures.

I drove us home in the rent-a-car and although the road was pretty rough we made it home safe and sound. We sat out in the back yard watching the lightning until it started to rain. We headed in and called it a night.

Posted by Peter Mork at 5:03 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 22, 2005

Doctor's Visit

I woke up this morning and with my throat still killing me I took Joanne up on her offer to go see a doctor. When she called the property manager to get the name of a physician, we were informed that one could come to the house if we would like. Even better.

The doctor was here about a half hour later and diagnosed me with strep throat, which explained why I wasn't improving. Em and I both stocked up with antibiotics and hopefully this will put an end to our week of sickness.

We spent the day mostly relaxing which is exactly what we needed. The girls took a walk along the beach and had cocktails. One trip we did take was into PV to have business cards made with our contact information so we´ll have something to give to people we meet on our trip. At the shopping center, as we waited for the printer to open after the siesta, we snacked at a great little restaurant run by a couple from Guadalajara . The restaurant was appropriately named Tortas Ahogadas because that is what we ate.

For dinner, after an informal driving tour de Joanne around the center of Puerto Vallarta, we headed out for some good pizza. It was a nice change of pace from Mexican food. Now we're off to bed with full stomachs and drugged up on antibiotics.

Posted by Peter Mork at 4:59 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 21, 2005

El Pacifico y Las Amigas

We woke up early to head to the bus station to make our way to Puerto Vallarta to meet up with our friend Jill. Door to door it was an all-day trip which included a stopover in Guadalajara. We arrived in Puerto Vallarta at about 7:30 pm and after talking with Jill and her mom, Joanne, we took a taxi to the airport where they picked us up.

Their flight had arrived a few hours earlier. It was great to see friendly faces from home. Joanne owns a rental house in a community on the beach in a little town north of Puerto Vallarta called La Cruz de Huanacaxtle. She had lived down here for seven months a year or so ago. Practically a local, she was ready to take the three of us to all the hidden, fun places she knew of. After we dropped our backpacks off at the house and Jill loaded up her purse with Coronas, Joanne took us into La Cruz to "Tacos on the Street", a restaurant that is only open Saturdays and Sundays. We ate carne asada tacos and quesadillas at a table literally set up in the street. They were delicious and just what we needed. Afterwards, it was back to the house to get some sleep after a long day of traveling.

Posted by Peter Mork at 4:18 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 20, 2005

La Boda de Claudia y Ulises

“¡Qué padre sería si vuelvan ustedes para la boda!” said Claudia on our last night in Guanajuato over an intense game of Mexican Monopoly and a few beers. Maybe she was just trying to distract me strategically as I was winning the game, but when she said it again, that was all it took to convince Peter and I to backtrack through central Mexico the following weekend to attend her and Ulises’ wedding. Right away, we knew we wouldn’t miss it for the world. While at our language school, we had spent a lively and fun two weeks living with the Prado family. We were thrilled at the notion of coming back to see this wonderful family and touched that they would give us such a special reason to do so.

The head of the household Maria Elena, her three daughters, Claudia, Myra, and Haydeé, and her son Alex kept us well fed and speaking Spanish and always laughing. Their house never stops flowing with activity and people. The four siblings, all university students, would zip off to class all in different directions at different times driving their car or on Claudia´s scooter through the winding streets and tunnels of town. When we arrived to stay with them, the family was hosting another student Ryan from Alaska who had just begun his year-long stay in Guanajuato with the family. Eldest sister Flavia would visit from Leon with the little star of the family, four-year-old Jorge Alexander. Neighbors/siblings/comedians Barbara and Fernando would drop by almost everyday for a laugh. Sam, novia de Alex, Reynaldo, novio de Maria Elena, and Ulisis, novio and fiancé de Claudia would stay for long evenings of comida and conversation. The family had made great friends (¿amigos o amigovios, Haydeé?) with former students Sebastián and Jamie, who were in town visiting for the wedding. It was amazing that amid all of this melee, and with a wedding about to take place, they still had room for us and made us feel at home. We felt incredibly lucky.

The following Saturday with much anticipation, we returned to our new hometown of Guanajuato, dressed ourselves up as best we could, and caught a taxi up to the Templo La Valenciana, a dazzling ancient church perched on a hill overlooking the city. Claudia had told us that the ceremony was to start at 1:30 in the afternoon even though 1 pm was printed on the invitations. We arrived at 1:15, and to our dismay, a ceremony was already occurring inside. We snuck into the church, and after scrutinizing the bride and groom for a few minutes, we realized that this was not Claudia and Ulises’ wedding. Hoping that we had our information right, we quietly tip-toed out of the church to look for someone we knew. With relief, we spotted Ulises outside looking sharp in his tails and shiny new shoes from León. Happy and ready to be married, he gave us hugs and began to greet his other guests that had begun to arrive. We saw the sisters and Alex, and ran over to see them. Their little cousins and nephew Jorge Alexander arrived all dressed up and full of energy. The courtyard outside the church was full of guests. It was to be expected that pastors in especially important churches would perform more than one wedding in a day, and so we waited. Claudia and her entourage arrived in the polished Escalade that Ulises had borrowed from GM, but she stayed out of sight. Suddenly the church emptied, we entered, and the ceremony began. Claudia, looking fabulous and happy, walked up the aisle with her uncle. The golden façade of the church glimmered in the candlelight throughout the ceremony and mass.

Templo La Valenciana is named for La Mina Valenciana, a famous colonial mine of Guanajuato. After the ceremony, we made our way down the street to the grounds of La Mina for the reception, and were greeted with tequila shots served in roma tomatoes. The party had begun! Bright colors swirled (maybe an effect of the tequila), little kids ran around on the grass in their nice clothes and threw themselves onto the inflatable trampoline that was set up for them, a lively band began to play, and Ulisis and Claudia entered in the Escalade to cheers and toasts. Dinner was served, and the dancing began.

The newlyweds danced the first dance. As Ulises skillfully swung her around the dance floor, I remembered that Claudia had mentioned that Ulises and his family loved loved loved to dance salsa. Next the couples danced with their parents and then the rest of their family joined them. Las solteras (single ladies) were called to the dance floor for the legendary bouquet toss, but first they joined hands and danced around the newlyweds and then around the entire reception. It began to rain and thunder, but under the tent no one seemed to notice. Everyone got up to dance. As the night went on, the music changed from salsa to ranchero to brazilian carnival to popular latin music. The band played their last song, a line dance, said goodbye and left the reception.

By this time it was around 9 pm, and Peter and I were convinced that the night must be coming to an end. But…nobody got up to leave. Everyone mingled and kept on talking in the candlelight. The newlyweds circled the room laughing and talking. The bar was still serving drinks. And suddenly, out of the darkness a full mariachi band entered. The dancing and serenading continued. Beautiful and exhausting, exhilarating and drunkenly happy, the wedding continued after midnight. Claudia and Ulisis visited and talked with guests until everyone but the families had left—unbelievable, because they had a five o’clock A.M. flight to New York to catch to begin their honeymoon. At the night´s end, we thanked them and said our goodbyes to the fun-loving, generous and kind Prado family. Alex and Fernando dropped us off at our little hotel, and we said goodnight to Guanajuato and the gorgeous night.

Querida familia:

Muchísimas gracias para todos. ¡Qué familia y boda increíble! Ojalá que le disfruten las fotos. Nos vemos. Muchas felicidades y mucha suerte,

Peter y Emily

Posted by Emily Marie Stremel Mork at 4:21 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 19, 2005

Back to Our Home Away From Home

Today we woke up and after breakfast headed to the bus station to make our way back to Guanajuato. The bus ride was non eventful but it is always relaxing and fun to watch the Mexican countryside pass by outside the windows.

We got to Guanajuato and checked into Hostel Cantarranas in our same little comfy room that we had when we first came to this little town. Originally we planned to head up to visit the Prados, but after dinner we were both still feeling under the weather. Instead we called them on the telephone to let them know that made it to Guanajuato intact, and said we would see them tomorrow at the wedding.

Posted by Peter Mork at 4:12 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 18, 2005

Sickness Strikes

Well, both Em and I are coming down with nasty illnesses. My throat is starting to kill me. Luckily, Em brought some vitamin c drops with Echinacea and zinc which are helping me to fight off this cold. Em is getting hit with a double-whammy. Not only does she have a fever and a sore throat but sheｴs having stomach problems. We knew this would happen eventually.

We switched hotels to a place on the plaza, which will hopefully be a bit more quiet than the little place we were in last night where the night watchman had a special love for ranchero music. Today we rested as we are trying to recover before the wedding on Saturday. Pátzcuaro is beautiful. Very different looking from colorful little Guanajuato, though. Here, all the buildings in town look exactly the same from the outside. All are whitewashed with a stripe of brick red along the bottom. From the outside the only way you can tell a butcher's shop from a florist is their business name written in small red and black letters above the door.

Tonight for dinner I ate about 200 little fish called charales. Not sure they were the best thing for my sore throat but they were the regional specialty and rather tasty.

Posted by Peter Mork at 4:09 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 17, 2005

Off to Pátzcuaro

After a successful trip to Uruapan, we decided to catch a bus to Pátzcuaro today to see some more of Michoacan. We spent the morning exploring more of downtown Uruapan, walking through the street market, the tianguis.. It's interesting, a good deal of the stands near the plaza have signs declaring the importance of the informal economy to poor families in Mexico. When I asked Armando about it yesterday he said that there is a plan to move these informal shops to another location further from the city center. Obviously many are not happy with this plan.

After lunch we caught the one hour bus to Pázcuaro. I spent the ride with the window wide open just taking in the scenery. Beautiful pines and fresh air. Once in Pátzcuaro we found hotel a couple blocks off the plaza. As soon as we were settled we made our way into the center of town to explore around and get some dinner. While we were at a café it started to absolutely pour rain, the hardest we have seen it come down on the trip. The streets began to flood.

To wait out the rain, we found an internet café and checked our email. Waiting in my inbox was an email saying that the CFA Level 3 results were out. Unfortunately, I failed the test. I was so mad about it I ended up not being able to get to sleep until about 4 in the morning. During my many hours of staring at the ceiling I've decided that I'm going to take it again next year in Cape Town, South Africa . Studying should prove to be difficult while traveling but if I wait another two years to take the test I'm going to lose too much of the material I learned this last year in my many hours of studying. If nothing else it will be a good practice exam, and if I do end up passing it would be great to say that I took and passed the L3 in Africa.

Posted by Peter Mork at 4:05 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 16, 2005

Oro Verde

This morning we woke up, headed down to our new favorite caf・for some breakfast, and returned to the hotel to get ready and to arrange our taxi. Armando arrived ten minutes later and we were off to look for an empacadora that might be able to show us "journalists" around.

The guard at the first packing warehouse we stopped at informed us that there was nobody currently on grounds and that we should try the San Lorenzo warehouse around the corner. On the way to San Lorenzo , Armando told us that Fox had visited this particular business a month ago. After talking with the guard at the gate and a few calls we were allowed to head into the main offices.

Everyone was friendly, but I realized I have to come up with a quicker reply when people ask me what company I'm with. "I'm an economist with Economics with a Face" doesn't quite roll of the tongue, nor is it a company. Free-lance journalist is probably a decent reply but it also doesn't seem like a response that will open many doors. But despite my fumbling around searching for a job title, we were soon in Rosangel Ruiz' office, the manager of outside sales, talking about avocados.

She was extremely helpful and we scribbled down notes as she showed us around the warehouse that was designated for export to the United States. Since January 31st of this year, Mexico, for the first time in 80 years has been able to export avocados to 47 states in the U.S. year-round. San Lorenzo, the biggest Mexican owned packing plant, was taking full advantage. A USDA inspector is on grounds daily to break the special seals on the incoming avocados trucks (the trucks are sealed after avocados have been picked at a USDA-approved huerta), randomly inspecting a percentage of the avocados for weevils, and making sure the quarantine areas are in compliance. Rosangel made clear that in her 15 years working at this plant she had never heard of even one weevil found in even one avocado in their or any of the surrounding warehouses.

Unfortunately there wasn't much going on in the plant as the avocados normally arrived later in the day. We saw the processing and packing line, and Rosangel explained how the process worked. We were able to get a good feel for how the place has been working since the law change earlier in the year. After the tour and back in her office we asked if it would be possible if she could help us arrange a visit to one of the many growers that the company buys from. She said she could make some calls but admitted that while she drives by them everyday, she herself had only been out to an avocado grove once or twice as she was in the sales department.

She tracked down a manager, Antonio, who said he would be more than happy to take us out to an orchard. We all piled into the taxi and headed out to get a first hand look.

Antonio was a wealth of information. This particular huerta was a large one; he told us that the company works with a whole range of growers of different sizes. We walked around the orchards overflowing with hanging fruit, got to see the irrigation system, a nursery of young trees, picking machines, and as a bonus, a trout farm and roosters bred for cock-fighting (!). One thing I hadn't realized is that avocados originated in central Mexico. This particular area of Michoacan is known for exceptional avocados. Chefs around the world prefer the unique taste of avocados produced here because of the volcanic ground in which they grow.

We dropped off Antonio and thanked for the great tour of the orchards. Armando, who had asked a lot of interesting questions himself during the tour, asked if we wanted to go see a beautiful church in San Juan Nuevo, a near-by town. We thought it was a great idea as we still had some time before we had to meet with Ricardo at 5:00 .

The church was beautiful. Inside was a special figure of a madonna that had originally been in the cathedral in the town of San Juan Viejo. People now visited this figure from far and wide because she was thought to create miracles. A volcano erupted in the 1950s and lava engulfed the town of Viejo all except for the cathedral. All of the townspeople escaped alive. To this day, the cathedral in Viejo stands alone amid the lava rock. San Juan Nuevo was built a few miles away, the miracle madonna was moved to its cathedral and now sheｴs famous.

Afterwards, Armando bought us all a few tunas, the sweet prickly-pear fruit from a cactus, which neither of us had tried before. After the excursion to San Juan Nuevo we decided to head back to the hotel to get a little rest before our meeting.

At 5:00 we headed over to the APEAM offices to meet with Ricardo Salgado. It was funny, all these years I thought Ricardo was simply the owner of a small orchard outside of Uruapan. While indeed he is, he is also the person who has been leading the charge to get Mexican avocados legally imported within the United States.

The details of our talk will most likely be a topic of an upcoming essay but I'll just say it was a great meeting. It was an especially relevant time to talk with him about my book and the avocado trade between Mexico and the U.S. since they had just recently accomplished their goal of securing importation rights for their products. He loaded us up with a good deal more information and we took a picture together before we left. As his story had been an inspiration to me, I promised him that if I ever get my book published he will be one of the first people to get a signed copy.

We next walked across town and had one of the best dinners of the trip at a tiny restaurant that specialized in arrancheras. Now we're back at the hotel and planning on getting some sleep (but only after practicing our salsa, Em insists).

Posted by Peter Mork at 4:01 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 15, 2005

Uruapan

We made a specific point of coming to Uruapan in order to learn a bit more about the Mexican avocado market. This morning we put that goal on hold in order to get some of our writing up on the website. After breakfast and a walk around town we headed to an internet café where we camped out for about 3.5 hours while we uploaded the rest of our pictures and gave our work one final proofread before we put it up.

In the afternoon I gave Ricardo Salgado a call and actually got a hold of him. He was a little thrown off when I first called as he had not received my email due to a problem with his computer, but after a short talk we decided to meet tomorrow at 5:00 so we could talk face to face.

Em and I walked along the huge city park (it is actually a national park) to the other side of town for dinner. We made it to the restaurant we were looking for right before it really started to rain. It was a nice place that overlooked the north end of the park and the rushing river and it specialized in a variety of trout dishes, which we both had as a main course.

After dinner the rain was coming down even harder, so we decided against walking the mile or so back into town. Across the street we were able to grab a cab. Although this was more expensive it was well worth it. The driver mentioned that we could pay him by the hour if we wanted to head out to a volcano that was a tourist attraction outside of the city. I let him know that we were really interested in taking a look at the avocado industry, but did not have a meeting with our contact in town until 5:00. He said there are several avocado packers in town as well as avocado ranches, huertas, on the outskirts he could take us to, so as of now that is the plan. He seemed like a friendly guy so we're going to give him a ring tomorrow morning and just pay him by the hour to take us around the outskirts of town.

He dropped us off at a café famous for its coffee and teas where we tasted uruapanesa coffee and a banana split. Eventually we walked back to the hotel. After paying at the front desk, we noticed that our laundry bill was about three times what we usually spend, so Em practiced her new and improved Spanish skills figuring out what was wrong. To prove weｴd been overcharged, Em brought the bellhop to our room to count our belongings. The woman at the front desk was skeptical and so finally they brought all the clothes back downstairs so that the boss could count everything. Returning with money in hand, Em entered our room with a smile.

We practiced salsa to Ruben Blades Pedro Navaja. Now it's off to bed. Tomorrow should be a fun day.

Posted by Peter Mork at 3:49 PM | Comments | TrackBack

Finally… an Update

What have we been doing since we left Mazatlan? Well if you are immediate family, or just really bored, all the details can now be found in daily entries since July 28th. We’ve also updated our other website with new pictures of our travels.

Emily has put up her final post on Cuba, which can be found directly below. I’ve also posted two more essays: Che Guevara: The Man Behind the Icon and The Case Against the Cuban Embargo. Give them all a read if you have the time. Shortly, I’ll be posting one more essay on Cuba. It will really be more of a summary of my thoughts on the trip and after that I’ll be moving on to other topics.

On a side note, I want to encourage everyone to head over and read the recent updates about our family friend Ross Dillon. Ross suffered severe head injuries when a vehicle struck him from behind while he was biking in Sonoma County on June 3rd, 2002. In the last month and a half he has begun to make extraordinary progress communicating. More than three years after his accident it is the first time he has truly started to speak. Here is a particularly touching entry from this last week sent in by his mother Betsy<:

August 8, 2005 9:30 PM--Just got a note from Betsy:

Hi,

Ross has had a good day. This morning he started the day by saying, "I don't know my name", "I love my parents", and "I am a man." I made signs that said "My name is Ross Dillon" and put them up in Ross's room. Two hours later, he said "I love my name." "Ross Dillon feels good." "I love my name, Ross Dillon." "Ross Dillon" (this time all of it was very clear).

Then he said to Jeremiah and me, "Who are you people?" Looking at Jeremiah, "Are a man." "I am a kid." He said a number of other things, but the neatest was, "I love my parents and they love me."

This afternoon, after being on his stomach and pedaling, he knocked the cones off the table with his right hand 125 times in six minutes. Jeremiah then had him do it with his left arm, much more difficult, and he did 5.

Onward and upward.

Betsy

Ross’ webpage can always be found on the left sidebar for those who not only want to keep up on his miraculous progress, but also want to be inspired by his astounding determination.

Posted by Peter Mork at 1:00 PM | Comments | TrackBack

En Fuego

I am trying to make peace with our experience in Cuba. A month later, as I read over my thoughts and look at our photos of Havana, I try to find a compromise between the serene images of the city and my fiery words. Why did I react so strongly?

Why can’t I be more like my Spanish conversation teacher, Miguel, (Joe Cool, as Peter and I call him secretly), a Mexico City native with long flowing curly hair and a swagger; he’s a student of literature and a bartender, and every morning, I question whether his heart is really into leading a group of four foreigners in discussion. But he’s a well-read, brooding, thoughtful fellow, and he perked up one day when our discussion turned to Cuba, and I described our visit a bit. Upon my description of how the poverty surprised me: “The poverty is as bad if not worse here in Mexico, on the outskirts of the cities, in the south,” he said quietly. A fellow student, an ESL teacher from North Carolina piped in with the anticipated: “And at least in Cuba, everyone is given food, shelter, and an education.” I asked Miguel if he’d visited Cuba, yes he had. “What do you think?” He responded again by comparing Cuba to Mexico… shrugging his shoulders. He had not reacted the way I had. And I quickly realized that my reaction was limited to Cuba. Not to excuse or ignore the problems in Mexico by any means, but what I see in Mexico has not disturbed me in the same way. Why?

In the streets of Havana, I looked for the culture I had gotten a glimpse of in Cuban communities in other countries and had loved: the music, the flavor, the love for life. Being foreigners in Havana, it elluded us. It was like looking for something that seemed to always be just around the next corner, but never was. We weren’t lucky enough to meet a person our own age willing to show us how happy they were, and what it was that made them love life. And we refused to simply be tourists: we only could observe and listen and absorb. We’ve been called super-libertarians in a super-socialist country by another American blogger, our age, who spent about the same amount of time in Cuba as we did. He feels like we aren’t representing Cuba fairly. He met a Mexican student and her circle of Cuban friends, and loved it. He even became chummy with a police officer. How different than our experience!

How can you argue with such a wonderful ideal, such an incredible end: equality? Food for everyone, healthcare for everyone, shelter, employment and an opportunity of a free university education for everyone: all noble goals. For forty years, these ideals have taken the driver´s seat in Cuba, at the expense of some very important liberties which I personally hold dear but often take for granted.

What made me livid was this: despite this incredible Cuban sacrifice of basic freedoms (to associate, to speak freely, to own property, to elect government representatives) in order to sustain a system of providing for everyone, it was clear that everyone does not live equally. I saw people living in poverty who were completely disallusioned and I saw others who were much more comfortable. We spoke with people in both situations. I was seeing a great deal of support for scholarship for those that got the grades and excelled in sciences or in the arts. For the rest, I only saw people in basic jobs without much else to live for. Their hands are tied.

I suppose Miguel would argue that you see this same lack of hope in Mexico but without the noble goals.

However, in Mexico, at the very least, I see both loud and subtle public displays of criticism of President Vicente Fox and of the deeds of the Mexican and foreign governments. Mexican teachers are comfortable teaching their students to be critical of everything. I see an incredibly vibrant informal economy in which those who are struggling can be a part of. I see a plethora of cheap internet access allowing ideas to be exchanged without restriction. And despite the difficult political realities of the past and present, I see enthusiasm for the upcoming 2006 presidential election. These basic interactions, alive in Mexico, are seemingly absent in Cuba.

The Cuban government with one hand provides, at inexpensive prices, the bare necessities to live, yet with the same powerful hand, sweeps away any interactions that would allow people to help themselves. We spent time with Cubans who wished to show us what a great life the system has provided for them and others. They have lived full lives, have raised children (who are now in Canada and the U.S.), consider themselves to be lifetime scholars, loved their jobs, have a wonderful apartment in a beautiful part of town, and now are lucky enough to have a license to make extra income by renting out part of their home to foreigners. Yet in the same breath, they are critical of their system. They have lived on the fortunate end of the socialist stick, while there are many who have not. Those that express their discontent publicly are quickly silenced. The same people that freely march and hang banners in the Plaza de Armas in Guadalajara, Mexico declaring Fox and Bush imbeciles or the G8 a gang of mafiosos, if they happened to be Cuban in Cuba criticizing Fidel Castro in this way, they would be strung up as contra-revolucionarios.

To me it seems that there is a wide held belief in the U.S. and elsewhere that people in Cuba are content with their form of socialism. Cubans have been denied a voice in their political system as long as Castro has been in power. How can we just shrug our shoulders assuming that Cubans must not have the same kind criticism of their government as we do of ours, when they are silenced by force from speaking publicly about it? Or worse, how can we excuse the Cuban government for forcing its citizens into a kind of numb silence?

As noble as the goals may be and as complicated as the situation has become, I refuse to simply shrug my shoulders. All I can do is try to give something of a voice to those we spoke with in Cuba who are miserable, because while publicly numb, privately they are full of life and about to explode.

Serene, peaceful and compromising this entry is not. But at least I can now look at the photos I took and realize that we were exposed to a wonderful, vibrant, and inspiring part of la cultura Cubana: the inextinguishable fire.

Posted by Emily Marie Stremel Mork at 10:37 AM | Comments | TrackBack

August 14, 2005

Making our way to Uruapan

Today we woke up early and although we really were not expecting it, Maria had some breakfast ready for us. She also gave us two coin purses as a going away gift that we’re both already using. If that were not enough she gave us a ride to the bus station to make sure that we made it on time. We let her know we planned on making it back next week for the wedding so it made it an easy goodbye.

The bus ride to Uruapan was gorgeous. It feels more like we are going through Oregon than Mexico to me. Everywhere you look is lush green hills, lakes, and forests. Once we arrived we found a perfect hotel not too far off the town square.

After getting some dinner we made our way over to an internet café. I was able to locate the phone number and email of Ricardo Posada, who is the avocado grower mentioned in the about section of this web page. Tomorrow I’m going to give him a ring and see if we can meet up while we are in the area. Hopefully, he is not out of town, but considering the amount of avocado trees we saw driving into the city it shouldn’t be hard finding someone to talk to about the industry.

Posted by Peter Mork at 12:40 PM | Comments | TrackBack

The Case Against the Cuban Embargo

"We're not waiting for the day of Cuban freedom, we are working for the day of freedom in Cuba," President Bush said in a speech on May 6th, 2004. How did he plan on encouraging this noble goal? By tightening the Cuban embargo, a policy that after more than 40 years in existence has yet to accomplish its objective of removing Fidel Castro from power.

The timing of such an announcement was no coincidence. Six months before a close presidential election, Bush clearly looked to shore up votes in the Cuban-American community to help secure a victory in the pivotal state of Florida. The question I’ve always had is why is there such support amongst the people who know Cuba the best for a policy that 1) is ineffective and 2) does more harm to the Cuban people than it does to the dictator that runs the island?

After spending a week in Havana, with the blessing of the U.S. government under a free-lance journalism license, the answer to this question is a bit clearer. Following my visit it was even more evident to me that Cuba’s socialist government would cease to exist if it could not rely on a steady flow of tourist dollars, euros, pesos, etc. that are currently keeping the government afloat. Additionally, many of those who are spending this money experience a very different Cuba than those who live their entire lives on the island.

Walking through the city the contrast is glaring. Wearing shorts, a raggedy shirt, and flip-flops, I could walk into the lobby of a hotel, order a steak at the bar, and enjoy my meal while watching CNN just steps away from the street. Ordinary Cubans passing by outside were not allowed in the hotels, could be sent to jail if they raised and slaughter a cow for beef, and if they had a television their reception was restricted to a few government stations. These, and many more glaring contrasts, made you sick to your stomach and wonder why anyone would ever want to go to Cuba for vacation.

And of course, the hotels that tourists from Canada, Europe, and the rest of the world frequent, are owned by the government in partnerships with foreign corporations. On top of that, nearly everything bought and sold goes through the Cuban government. Thus, almost every dollar spent gives Fidel more money to exercise control over the Cuban people. In 2003 this oppression was center stage for the world to see when Fidel threw over 70 journalists, economists, poets, and librarians into prison for defying the regime. He also had three men sentenced to death for attempting to hijack a ferry and make it to Florida.

Not surprisingly this arouses strong emotions. Maria Elena Alpizar Arioso, an independent journalist who lives in Havana, is but one passionate supporter of the embargo. She had this message for her two sons who reside in Venezuela: "I told them not to come here, not even to see my cadaver, while Fidel Castro is here."

But despite these facts one can look at the embargo from a different angle. To start with, the Cuban embargo does not stop any American goods from reaching the shores of Cuba. Since every other country in the world is free to buy U.S. goods, what’s to stop entrepreneurs in Mexico, Canada, Europe, and wherever else from buying U.S. products and selling them to Cuba if they desired? Absolutely nothing.

And of course the Germans have no laws prohibiting businessmen from selling Saabs to Cubans, nor do the Japanese have laws restricting the sale of Toyotas. The reason that there are so many cars from the 50’s still circulating around Cuban streets is that Fidel’s socialist policies have impoverished the country.

Yet the ramifications of the Cuban embargo are even worse. By continuing to enforce these restrictions on travel and trade, the U.S. gives Castro a scapegoat for his country’s poverty. They are poor, he states, because of the U.S. embargo. (Of course, the logic seems to escape Castro that if Communism works so well, why then is their economy dependent on the capitalistic government to the north?) And there is no doubt that Castro’s message does hold sway with some Cubans. I’m sure they wonder… why does the U.S. government have these restrictions against Cuba but not against China, which is also a communist state?

When one looks at the recommendations put forth by President Bush and his commission it only gets all the more bizarre. Since May 2004 Cubans in the United States can only go to visit family members once every three years (instead of once a year which was the previous policy), the definition of family members has been restricted to include only immediate family, and Cubans visiting family are only allowed to spend $50 dollars a day in the country instead of the previous amount which was $164.

If that were not enough, cash remittances can now only be sent to immediate family members, they remained limited to $300 per family every three months, and gift parcels must be worth less than $200 (not counting food which is excluded). The administration also further restricted the travel by students to Cuba through educational programs.

Are we not punishing the wrong people here?

All these policies, taken as a whole, sum up to an appalling strategy for dealing with Cuba. Fidel Castro and his confidants don’t suffer because of the embargo. They eat luxurious dinners every night relaxing at Fidel’s finca. Meanwhile, the Cuban people are not only denied direct flow of American goods, but more importantly they are denied contact with U.S. citizens, something that could be enormously beneficial.

I truthfully believe that people in the U.S. understand the benefits of free enterprise better than anyone else in the world. Thus, American students, travelers, and entrepreneurs would bring a unique taste of freedom to Cuba that won’t be found anywhere else. With Florida only 90 miles away, there is no doubt it would be an easy trip for many.

Economics professors could arrange trips with their students for a first hand look at the inefficiencies that are inherent in a command economy. Travelers could bring Cubans not only over-the-counter medicine, which Cuban’s sorely need, but they could also bring along some copies of the New York Times and The Wall Street Journal. Entrepreneurs, if allowed to start businesses, could demonstrate by there own actions how a market economy works. That is of course if Castro allowed such things, which I’m sure he would not.

But then that’s really the point. Instead of the U.S. looking like the villain to many people in Cuba and others across the world, the blame would be placed directly where it belongs. And back in the U.S., instead of reading headlines about the Treasury Department fining American citizens who violated the embargo, instead we’d be reading more headlines how Castro himself was restricting the travel of Americans; Americans who were doing nothing more than trying to better the lives of the people Fidel controls.

So why not Mr. President? Let’s give the American people the same freedoms we lambaste Castro for taking away. I know we will use it wisely. If you’re serious about advancing a day of Cuban liberty, there would be no better way to do it.

Posted by Peter Mork at 10:54 AM | Comments | TrackBack

August 13, 2005

Our last weekend in Guanajuato

Today we woke up, had some breakfast with the family, and then headed into town. Once there we bought our bus tickets to Uruapan at the travel agency in the center of town so we are all set to leave on tomorrow morning.

After some coffee we started the arduous task of uploading the photos from the last 2 weeks. Unfortunately, we had so many pictures that we didn’t have time to get them all up. At 4:00 we headed back up to the house and on the way bought some flowers for Claudia for her despedida which was scheduled for tonight. Shortly after we were back at the house Ulysses swung by to pick us and Ryan up and we all headed over to see the church where they are going to be married next week.

The Templo La Valenciana was magnificent and is one of the oldest churches in Mexico. We also swung by the mine where they are going to have the reception about a half mile away. It was a gorgeous place as well.

Afterwards we headed over to Ulysses (and soon to be Claudia’s) home. It’s a great place with an incredible view of the city. Some friends and the sisters arrived a bit later and we all had fun watching soccer, listening to music, playing some card games, and drinking some beer. Before we left Ulysses gave us a CD with a ton of salsa music on it. This made Em’s day as now we can continue practicing what we learned in classes this last week. We’ll see how long it lasts. We also decided to head back for their wedding next week. They are both so nice and really want us to come if we can make it, so next Saturday we’ll be back in Guanajuato. We’re both really looking forward to it.

Now we’re off to bed and tomorrow it’s off to Uruapan.

Posted by Peter Mork at 12:23 PM | Comments | TrackBack

Che Guevara: The Man Behind the Icon

“There is more repression of individual freedom here than in any country we’ve been to, the police patrol the streets carrying rifles and demand your papers every few minutes, which some of them read upside down. The atmosphere is tense and it seems a revolution may be brewing… In summary, it’s suffocating here.” – Ernesto Che Guevara, in a letter to his mother from Bogotá, Columbia - July 6, 1952

Suffocating is the word I would use, but not to describe Bogotá in 1952, a city in a time I know little about. Instead, I’d fast forward 53 years and this quote would be a fitting description of parts of present day Havana.

I was told by a Cuban, in a not so joking manner, that Havana has 2 million inhabitants, one million of whom are policemen. From my experience it didn’t seem too far from the truth. Uniform policemen are visible every few blocks and amongst the crowds lurk many more undercover agents. Walking through the city it is a common sight to see young Cubans randomly stopped and asked for their identification. One night, outside the restaurant I was dining in, I watched three young Cubans detained and thrown into a police van for the apparent crime of speaking to a tourist.

One gets the impression that just about everything Cubans do could be considered illegal. Dissident economist Martha Beatriz Roque, recently released from prison for health reasons, has stated that these conditions make every Cuban have a “built-in policeman.” It’s hard to sum up this kind of atmosphere in a single word, but suffocating might be as close as one can get.

How ironic, that in contrast to the quote above, this is the country that Che helped to create. His many admirers will undoubtedly say that he had nothing to do with such an environment. Che, they’ll say, was a man who fought against American imperialism. He was a voice for the exploited masses and is idolized because he lived and ultimately died on their behalf.

But is it really true that this young man, so concerned by the repression of individual freedoms in Bogotá, held to this same standard throughout his life? A few key facts make any observer not only question this assumption, but also the wisdom of those who display his portrait with such admiration. A good place to start is his actions following the Cuban revolution. One incident in particular is extremely telling.

****

Less than a year after the Cuban revolution, one of its original leaders was sentenced to 20 years in prison. Although Comandante Huber Matos had supplied weapons for the revolutionary forces and had triumphantly rode alongside Fidel Castro as the rebels victoriously entered Havana, 10 months later he would be labeled as a traitor. His crime? Refusing to be part of a government that had turned its back on democracy.

For this, Ernesto “Che” Guevara wanted him killed, or better put: sent to el Paredón, “the wall” for execution by firing squad. Castro eventually spared Matos’ life, fearing a death sentence would make him a martyr.

Ask yourself, should a man that openly favored the murder of someone who spoke out for democracy really be the poster child for justice in the world?

And Matos is not alone in this experience. Eusebio Penalver and Chanes De Armas are but two more that fought against Batista, only to be turned upon by Che and Castro when they publicly voiced concern over the new government’s consolidation of power. Hardly the leadership one would expect from such an idol.

In addition to this, Guevara personally shot a young man under his command for the crime of stealing food in order to set an example for the rest of his subordinates, he founded the Cuban labor camps thus setting up a system that would be a means to terrorize “enemies of the revolution” (i.e. political dissidents, homosexuals, AIDS victims), and by his own account ordered over two thousand executions while in charge of La Cabaña prison and other posts. Again and again he proved that human life posed no obstacle in reaching his goal of creating a “new man”.

Once more, can anyone tell me why this man’s portrait is on so many shirts?

In Havana, I passed many young tourists that proudly displayed Che’s famous image on a just purchased beret or t-shirt. Leaving Havana, in the airport, again Che was staring at me, this time his image tattooed on the back of an American’s calf in front of me in line. Making our way through Mexico it’s hard to find a T-shirt shop where I don’t see his glaring eyes. This man, no doubt, has a strong grip on many across the world. But surprisingly, walking around Havana, I saw more Cubans wearing American flag bandanas than glorifying this founder of their revolution.

I’ll end with another quote from Che, which is delivered in a distinctly different tone than the one I selected to begin this essay:

"Crazy with fury I will stain my rifle red while slaughtering any enemy that falls in my hands! My nostrils dilate while savoring the acrid odor of gunpowder and blood. With the deaths of my enemies I prepare my being for the sacred fight and join the triumphant proletariat with a bestial howl!"

In truth, I’m no expert on Che’s life, but the person who authored the above quote scares me, as he should you. Clearly, the young man who spoke to his mother of the wrongs in Bogotá was soon afterwards corrupted by a Marxist ideology and desire for power that turned him into nothing more than a murderer. Young “revolutionaries” should remember this fact the next time they go out shopping for a new wardrobe. We can’t ignore the crimes against humanity that Che committed simply because as an adventurous young man traveling through South America he kept a passionate diary.

Sources:
The Motorcycle Diaries – Ernesto Che Guevara
PBS - “American Experience, Fidel Castro”
The Black Book of Communism - Stephane Courtois
“Deflating the Che Cult” - Tom Palmer
“The Cult of Che” - Paul Berman
“Every Cuban Has a Built-In Policeman”- Martha Beatriz Roque
“Mass Murder by Diplomacy” – John Tiller
“Torture and Tyranny: The Real Che” – Randall McElroy

Posted by Peter Mork at 10:43 AM | Comments | TrackBack

August 12, 2005

The Last Day of School

Today was our last day of classes and they went very well. Em got some more pictures of all the teachers and of the school. We watched two interesting short films in my practical spanish class with Hugo, and during salsa class we spent a half hour watching professional salsa dancers on DVD. Basically there was a good deal of watching TV today in class, which made for a relaxing end to the week.

Tonight, we were planning on heading down to La Dama again to see how much I had learned during the dance classes during the week. Unfortunately, a major thunderstorm hit and by the time it cleared up it was already late and Em was feeling a little bit under the weather. We took advantage of the time though, planning out our next leg of the journey and getting advice from Ulysses on his home town Mexico City.

Tomorrow, we should get some stuff up on the internet and also plan on heading over to Ulysses house in the evening. Should be fun.

Posted by Peter Mork at 12:11 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 11, 2005

Gorditas con Pollo en Mole

School is really winding down as it was our second to last day. I really feel though that both of us have taken our Spanish to another level with the classes. Emily is especially talking a lot more. I think taking one private class with Esme has really helped her out. As for me, I find the pluscuamperfecto de subjuntivo is rolling off my tongue a bit easier.

Today trying a new street taco stand between classes I discovered gorditas con pollo en mole. I’ll definitly be heading back tomorrow. They were delicious. The more I think about it maybe we should just scrap this economics with a face book idea and just start keeping track of our favorite foods for a recipe book. It would probably sell more copies.

Back at the house everyone was out, so while Em took a nap, I watched some TV for the first time in quite a while. It was just like being back in San Diego. When I turned it on the Chargers were playing the Packers in a preseason game live.

Once everyone arrived home about 8:00 we had dinner, stayed up talking for a bit, did some homework, and then it was off to bed. Tomorrow is our last day of school.

Posted by Peter Mork at 12:09 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 10, 2005

Writing, writing, and more writing

Classes didn’t start until 1:00 today for me so I spent the morning working on the computer and putting together several of the essays I have in the works. In truth, I’m hoping my writing not only gets better during the trip but that also I’ll be able to pick up the pace a bit.

It was a relaxing day of classes and we finished it off with another salsa lesson. Today my brain hit overload with the dancing. I was forgetting the easy stuff just as we moved onto the more complicated moves. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

Back at the house it was a lively scene as a former student, Jamie, who stayed with the family last year has come to visit for a few weeks and to attend Claudia’s wedding. She was handing out gifts to everyone when we got back so not surprisingly everyone was in an extra good mood. We stayed up and talked for a while before eventually heading to bed.

Posted by Peter Mork at 12:06 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 9, 2005

Suffering through Salsa

This morning Em left early for school as she has class at nine, while my class doesn’t start until eleven. After hanging up some clothes on the laundry line I headed down to school. There was a large procession making its way toward the main cathedral that held me up a bit, but I used the opportunity to snap a few pictures.

Cuba came up in class again, but this time with a different teacher. Hugo, my teacher, gave me the names of a few more movies and novels written by Cubans he thought I might enjoy, and went through a bit of the history between Cuba and Mexico.

This afternoon we took our first salsa class, which I guess went alright but truthfully I just don’t think I have the natural rhythm to do this stuff. Luckily I’ve got a patient wife so I should be able to make it though the week.

Tonight we went and saw War of the Worlds with Yelena (originally from Russia) and her son Greg from school. I wasn’t expecting much so I actually liked the movie. Greg was not as happy with it as I was. It was a nice break though watching a movie in English.

Posted by Peter Mork at 12:02 PM | Comments | TrackBack

August 8, 2005

Starting the Second Week of School

We made it down to school at about 9:00am and took a look at our new schedules which were posted in the front office. Classes went well. I dropped one grammar class and added a salsa class, while Em added the salsa class and changed one of her classes to a private lesson. During my conversation class the topic of Cuba came up and it was interesting discussing our recent experience in Cuba with a friend in the class who had lived in Soviet Union until it collapsed when she was 27 years old. Overall, I’m sure it will be a good last week to polish up on our Spanish.

Upon returning home after a day full of classes we watched Azucar Amarga , a Cuban film that Ulysses had brought over after our discussions about the island. It was unbelievable good and I would highly recommend it to anyone interested in life in Cuba. I’m still not sure how they were able to film so many scenes of Havana, but it was interesting to see so many of the areas we had just visited. On top of that it is a movie with a powerful message.

We stayed up for a bit afterwards discussing the film with Myra, Claudia, and Haydeé. Before bed we did some laundry and some writing, and then it was off to bed.

Posted by Peter Mork at 11:57 AM | Comments | TrackBack

August 7, 2005

Braceros in the Plaza

Looking out at the plaza this morning from our balcony we noticed about 100 men and some women gathered below. All looked elderly and nearly all wore cowboy hats. After getting ready we headed down and Em was taking a few pictures of the plaza when she struck up a conversation with one of the men. It turns out that they were former Braceros, those that had worked in the infamous workers program in parts of the U.S. during the 1950s and afterwards. They were gathered in the plaza for a meeting with some government officials. The meeting had to do with wages that were withheld for them for retirement years ago by their U.S. employers yet they had never seen. The head representative of the group made his way over to talk to us as at first some of the men thought we were the ones there to negotiate. According to him the U.S. had sent the money to the Mexican government but they still had never seen a dime of it. The government officials had still not arrived.

We talked for about 20 minutes and took some pictures, then headed off to breakfast at a restaurant we had spotted the night before. It was a great breakfast and Em took some excellent photos of the place. We had our first taste of Mexican coffee, which to date we had not yet discovered.

Next we were off to the Posada Museum. Passing the plaza I could see that the representatives from the government had arrived and all the men were crowded around them. We walked for about 10 minutes, eventually finding the museum at the other end of town. It was truly amazing. Below each of Posada’s prints were his original metal lithographs. The precision and mind it took to create these works of art was something to observe. If you´re interested, take a look at some of our pictures which will do his work much more justice than I can in words.

After the museum, we headed back to the hotel as we had to check out at 1:00 and catch our bus at 2:00. On the way we had some time to talk with a few more of the Braceros, who were still negotiating with the government officials (4 or 5 women who looked to be taking their names). The men were very disgruntled. Again, there would be no money for them today. They had planned a meeting for the 15th to continue the negotiations and one man told me that if something wasn’t resolved then they might take the congressional building by force.

It was a sad sight seeing these men in their 70’s and 80’s who still had the mentality of the young strong men they once were, yet you could tell were not being taken very seriously by the women from the government who were taking down their information. One man told me that a month ago the riot police had come with shields and horses to drive them out of the plaza. I’m going to see if I can find an article on it. It seems insane though as some of these old men can only walk at a snail’s pace.

We continued talking about Cesar Chavez, the United Farm Workers, current proposals in the U.S. to reestablish a Bracero type program, and working conditions they faced in the United States. It was an interesting conversation and yet another topic for an upcoming essay.

We got back to Guanajuato just fine and after checking email in town we headed up for dinner. After telling everyone about our trip, we talked to the girls and Alejandro about how they were starting classes at the University tomorrow. Haydeé had still not decided which university she was going to attend while Claudia told us about the internship she had just completed with a mining company. After that it was off to bed.

Posted by Peter Mork at 11:54 AM | Comments | TrackBack

August 6, 2005

Arriving in Aguascalienties

We caught our bus at 12:30 and about an hour later were in Leon. Unfortunately, although we had tickets on the 2:00 bus to Aguascalienties from Leon, they had accidentally overbooked it. Em and I along with about 10 other people had to wait another hour and a half for the next bus. It wasn’t that big of a deal to us as we wanted some food and were not really in a rush. One thing that stood out about the Leon bus station was that every other person seemed to be carrying at least 15 shoe boxes. Some even seemed to have hundreds which they were loading under the buses. No doubt they were heading to their home towns where they could sell them for a profit. We had heard from several people and our guidebook how Leon is known world-wide for it´s shoe production.

We arrived in Aguascalienties a few hours later and grabbed a taxi to our hotel. The driver informed us, as we had previously read, that the city was famous for both its cleanliness and for its kind people. He lived up to that standard giving us a brief tour of the town and chitchatting with us the whole way.

We paid an extra $4 to get a room with a balcony, which was well worth the cost. After getting settled in our room we set out to find some food and walk around the city. The streets designated for pedestrians were lined with various stores and packed with people strolling around like us, or doing their weekly shopping. We stumbled upon a parade of a local worker´s union, and later found a city park where a group of local dancers was giving a performance. Em as usual took some good pictures.

We ate at a good Mexican restaurant and watch a few soccer games over dinner and drinks. We’re now back at the hotel and are ready to get some sleep after our day of traveling.

Posted by Peter Mork at 11:50 AM | Comments | TrackBack

August 5, 2005

Starting the Weekend

It was a typical morning for us. The only thing out of the ordinary was that I tripped during my run this morning and fell flat on my face right in front of a group of people. I’ve been running for 15 years on and off but that was a first for me. I scraped up my hands but other than that luckily I’m fine.

After school we decided that we wanted to head to Aguascalientes this weekend, specifically to see the Jose Guadalupe Posada museum, the only one we know of in Mexico. It’s about a 4 hour trip on the bus but we figure we will leave mid-day tomorrow, get there in the evening for dinner, and then head over to the museum on Sunday morning before we have to head back.

Tonight we decided to head over to a Cuban bar named Las Damas y Las Camelias to watch some salsa.

When we arrived at 11:15 the place was empty except for two other tables, one of which the owner and some friends were sitting. By 12:30 the place was packed and everyone was dancing. It is truly amazing to see how well some of the men approaching their 70s can dance. One older man gave me the 3rd degree why I was not dancing, while my wife was out there at least trying. “It’s not in my blood,” I explained. “Nor your feet I suspect” he replied. In response I’ve promised Em that next week I’ll take some classes that the school offers to see if I can get out there next Friday or Saturday, and a least not look like a complete fool. We’ll see how it goes.

On the way home we called Josephine and Calle on my cell phone to see if they had made it back to Sweden alright. They indeed had, and told us a bit about the rest of their trip in Cuba. After the call which lasted no more than 4 minutes, I checked how much money was remaining on my card and to my surprise the call had cost nearly $10. As I started to complain Em reminded me that we were calling from a narrow alley in the hills of Guanajuato while they actually picked up their cell phone on their sailboat off the coast of Sweden. Maybe that’s not such a bad deal after all.

Now it’s off to bed and tomorrow off to Aguascalienties.

Posted by Peter Mork at 11:45 AM | Comments | TrackBack

August 4, 2005

More School and an Intercambio

I woke up today and decided to skip the run as my hip was sore and my class started even earlier today. Today, I had two conversation courses to make up for the one we missed on Monday. Miguel, our teacher, introduced some interesting topics that got us all involved in some lively discussions. They’ve ranged from global warming, to our work back home, to Mexican politics and the upcoming presidential election.

The rest of the day went equally well. I’ve got subjunctive tenses coming out my ears at this point, which makes me think that next week I’m going to drop one of my grammar classes. But as for my other class, in practical Spanish my teacher Rolando brought some interesting material. He had a recent interview with Steve Forbes recorded on tape. He’d play Forbes’ responses to various questions in English, we would then translate them, and then he would start the tape again so that we could compare our translation to that of the host.

Many in the class were scoffing when Forbes was talking up the benefits of free trade, and all of us were laughing (the host of the program included) when Forbes said in his very dry manner of speaking that “The IMF is like a doctor that wants to harm or kill its patients”. Scoffs continued by some the students throughout the interview but most of it had to do with Forbes manner of speaking and not the topics, which mainly covered Mexico achieving currency stability. Still it was a fun exercise, but I would have liked to talked about the content of the interview, something we did not do.

That night we headed back down to the school to have an intercambio with students from the local university who were learning English. I was paired with a chemistry student named Crispin who was from Oaxaca. It was a fun discussion that covered Cuba, his home city, and university life in Guanaguato.

On the way home we stopped to see a production company load a bunch of bulls back into a trailer after filming a commercial depicting a Spanish “Running of the Bulls” festival in one of the plazas. We’re told that there are constantly foreign commercials being filmed here due to the uniqueness of the city and because the cost of filming in Mexico is much less than in other places. After dinner we stayed up for a while doing homework and reading and then went to bed.

Posted by Peter Mork at 11:42 AM | Comments | TrackBack

August 3, 2005

Halfway through the Week

Up early again, I decided to go on the same run as the day before. It was a little easier today and it’s a good way to get myself going in the morning even though I’m out of shape. Classes again went well. I’m starting to remember the pluscuamperfecto and antepasado tenses that I haven’t been using so far on the trip.

After class we headed up for lunch but then headed back into town to visit a Diego Rivera museum, which is actually located in the house in which he was born, and houses a private collection of his artwork. It was interesting to see how his style had changed from his early twenties up until his death.

Tonight, over dinner with the family, we talked a good deal about immigration between Mexico and the United States, how many of the laws just didn’t make sense. They gave some examples of how criminals are given amnesty, while poor people that are just heading up to work in the fields are arrested. Yet another essay topic I need to write about…

Posted by Peter Mork at 11:39 AM | Comments | TrackBack

August 2, 2005

Getting Settled in Guanajuato

I woke up early and decided I was going to go for a run. I made my way downstairs where Maria and Claudia were getting breakfast ready. They said I should head towards the mountains, to La Mina de Reyes which was a common route for joggers. After leaving the house I picked up a good size stone to carry just in case the many loose dogs we saw around the streets decided to go after me.

The run was perfect. It was hilly but there were lots of people running. On the way to the mine only one dog posed any threat. A doberman-like mutt was in the middle of the road and started barking as I got close. He didn’t look too mean and sure enough, after I stopped and gave him a pet, he decided to follow me for a couple hundred yards jumping all over me trying to get me to play with him. Finally he decided he’d have better luck with some walkers that were heading in the other direction.

Once I got to the mine the view was beautiful so I stopped for few minutes to take it in and to catch my breath. Twenty minutes later I was back at the house. After breakfast we headed down to school and after all our classes we headed back up for lunch at about 3:00.

After some reading and homework, we talked with the family a little bit about my plans for a book and I used the example of how Mexican avocados for were banned from the California. We also talked about the recent importation of cheap Chinese shoes, which have hurt shoemakers in a neighboring city Leon. There were some interesting analogies I plan on writing about at a later date.

Posted by Peter Mork at 11:35 AM | Comments | TrackBack

August 1, 2005

The First Day of School

We woke up, had some breakfast and then made our way to Casa Mexicana the school where we planned on brushing up on our Spanish for a few weeks. They gave us an entrance exam and placed us in classes this morning. So far, the school seems great. I’ll be taking two grammar classes, a conversation class, and a practical Spanish class. Em will be doing about the same, just substituting one grammar class for a class describing the history of Mexico.

The school has set us up with a family to stay with while in Guanajuato. After classes we picked up our backpacks from the hostel and headed back to the school where a member of the family was going to pick us up. Alejandro, who is 19, picked us up and after a few failed attempts to find a taxi we decided just to trek it up to his house which he told us was up in the hills above the city.

Just when I thought we had to be getting close, after quite an accent up stone stairways in narrow alleys, Alejandro turned around and said that this is where the climb got tough. Em reluctantly let him carry her backpack as she was trying to be tough, but in the end she was grateful he did. After another 10 minutes of climbing we made it to his house. We met his mother Maria and sisters Claudia and Myra and they showed us to our room and around the house. From the top floor/roof there is an incredible view of Guanajuato.

Also in the house are three other Americans, two from Texas and one from Alaska. All are studying at different schools. After getting to know everyone, some neighbors included, we made our way back down into town to explore a bit more. It is quite a trek down the steep and narrow alleys but it really does give the town character.

That night over dinner we met Ulysses, the fiancée of Claudia. Their wedding is in three weeks! We had a long discussion about his employer GM, the problems the company faces, and the differences between factories in the U.S. and those in Mexico. They are heading to New York for their honeymoon and they told us how they were married civilly last month so that it would be easier to get visas to the U.S. It was an interesting conversation and I could have kept going but he needed to get up for work in the morning, so we said we would continue the discussion later.

Posted by Peter Mork at 11:23 AM | Comments | TrackBack