A Walk in the Park

I mentioned last entry what a wild weekend it was, and without further ado I give you the Sunday half.

Following a huge day at Huamantlada we got back around 7 PM and decided to go out since it was a Saturday and fatigue is weakness leaving the body or something like that.

Before heading back to mi casa for a shower a friend of mine named Tom (another Australian, always been my weakness) mentioned a group was going to hike a mountain the next day and asked if I wanted to go. I said absolutely (figuring we were talking casual afternoon walk up a gentle hill).

Later that night at some ungodly hour Tom mentioned we might want to head back since we needed to be on the bus at 6:30 AM for the mountain. After spitting my apple juice all over the place at this unexpected news I agreed we probably needed to get some sleep and headed home.

After somehow making the bus a few hours later a group of 13 representing Denmark, France, Mexico, Australia, Germany, and the Stars and Bars were cruising towards La Malinche mountain.

Along the way, some time around the point when I was informed La Malinche was the 5^th highest peak in Mexico and we were going to the top, I began to notice I had a bit of a cough and sore throat going, nothing major, but something to remember.

We arrived at the base of the mountain (elevation 3100 m with the top being 4462 m/14640 ft) at about 10:30 AM and started our trek.

The first hour and a half or so wasn’t too bad, a couple steep parts but nothing to write home about. When we got to this landing I looked down and was in high spirits figuring that if I could see this much area below we must be close….false.

Another hour and a half later I was absolutely miserable. My cough had turned into a full blown hack, I was freezing cold, and I could barely drink water my throat hurt so bad. Also I was as physically worn out as I had ever been (including that woeful semester of crew) and still had the steepest part to go.

Looking up at the top I was having some serious doubts when Big Tom grabbed me by the collar pointed to 3 of the French guys (earlier in the day one had mentioned that their national bird was a cockatoo, kind of like a bald eagle but different) who were ahead of us and said I don’t care, they can’t beat us up there. Assuming the fatigue was due to 5 months of relative inactivity I pressed on, sort of.

Having lost the ability to keep myself vertical I began a strange crawling motion that involved all four of my limbs and must have looked just downright pathetic. It didn’t matter, I was finally covering some ground again.

After what seemed like forever of this, I finally made it to the top (3.5 hours of non stop work) with the group which was now down to 8. Despite feeling like I had been slapped in the face by death I was able to look around and appreciate the unbelievable view. It was probably breath taking, but since I had none of that to spare I have no idea.

I took a seat and we hung out up here and had a bit of lunch (yummy gluten free Bumble Bar).

After about 30 minutes and a desperate search for a chair lift, tram, helicopter pad, elevator, or parachute, we decided to head back. Upon standing up it took me exactly 1 step to realize I was in trouble. My knee which had been pain free coming up was not a happy camper for the descent and nor were my lungs, calves, quads, hammies, shoulders, head, or neck for that matter. It was very steep and the ground was mostly rocks going down so it was very slow going.

I will spare you the monologue I was having in my head for the next two hours as I creeped down (for the good of your innocent souls) the mountain.

After a solid 2 hours of sliding, I still hadn’t hit the halfway point but had met up with Morgan, a first class Frenchie. He was struggling mightily as well and we got into a nice rhythm of 5 minutes walking 10 minutes of break. Eventually that got to be too much and with about 2 hours of descent left we were in a bit of a quandary when our saviors arrived.

After passing over a cross road and down a steep slope someone whistled to us. He yelled something in Spanish and not caring what it translated to (in hindsight a questionable decision), we sprinted back up the hill with a new found second wind/pathetic breeze.

Upon arriving at the road two angels riding glowing horse drawn chariots/12 year old boys on mopeds came around the corner and offered us a ride. Having lost the ability to speak hours ago I indicated an affirmative by jumping on the back of the closest one and practically strangling the driver. Apparently this was bad form as the other boy began laughing and I backed off a bit and found a nice handle under my seat.

After a 25 minute drive down where all I could mutter was gracias, muchas gracias over and over again we made it to the bottom. After this picture of me and my heroes and a well earned tip (they didn’t want to take it but I told them this is the going rate for saving my life right now you must) we relaxed at a picnic table until boarding the bus to take us from the mountain to Puebla.

The ride back was crazy with our driver breaking land speed records on the back dirt roads and a lady hopping on with 20 bales of pine straw out of absolutely no where. Upon being dropped off in Puebla I knew I was in bad shape as I was feeling slightly worse than horrible.

I got home and went right to bed with all the wrong symptoms. Monday morning I woke up, coughed up some phlegm (sorry kind of gross I know) and spit it out to find a good percent of it was blood. After assessing my other symptoms and skyping with Mom we diagnosed it as the swine flu so I headed for the clinic.

La doctora told me she didn’t think I had pig flu, but rather a respiratory infection and gave me a broad range of treatments that probably could have knocked out anything. I returned home, let the homestay mom know and then we headed off to the pharmacy.

On the way she hit me with a real slap to the face and pretty much put me on house arrest until I get better. In a joking manner (kind of) I was informed the late night door was locked. As I write this I am still serving out my sentence but about to go have a chat with the madre to see what we can do about tonight. If she says no I have already scoped out my escape route through my window, but based on my mountain climbing skills let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

Anyways, I think that is plenty of writing for this entry. Again, another great experience I am not dying to repeat (for fear of dying). This weekend should be a lot of fun as a group of about 20 of us are headed to Vera Cruz….

Running with the Bulls

Whew, what a weekend it was. Both Saturday and Sunday provided lots of fun, great experiences, and cool pictures so I will split them up into two different entries.

As I mentioned in my last entry, I went with a large group of both international and Mexican students to the Huamantlada festival on Saturday. Except for my homestay mother and oracle of all things Mexican telling me people die every year running with the bulls so don’t you dare go out there in that street, I really had no idea what to expect when we arrived at around 9AM.

Please excuse the glasses, it was a ridiculous festival and called for ridiculous eye wear and the cup with my morning coffee in it of course.

The bulls didn’t get released until noon so we had a look around. Still not having run or climbed much of anything since March with the bad knee, I had made up my mind, but my friends were on the fence about whether to do the once in the life time thing and run with the bulls for a bit or to stay safely (or so we were told) behind the walls. The consensus really shifted to the latter when we came upon our first “box”

A quick calculation for the American readers: 490 kgs x 2.205 lbs/kg = 1078 lbs

After seeing that we decided we had better secure a safe place from which to watch. The city sections its center off into 6 zones with 4 “boxes” per section. A wall is built on either side of every street and then each building (house, store, bar, restaurant) can build bleachers between their building and the wall or sell space on their roof. We decided on a very tall building that was offering their roof and a seat on their bleachers (behind a wall) for about 8$.

After hanging out up there for about an hour and watching people pack into every available nook and cranny on our street, a buzz started and then a chant of mueran gringo (die American but from what I was told, not because they wanted to see a dead American as much as because they wanted to see some action a la Gladiator style) ensued and I looked down to see two of my friends (1 Australian and 1 American) on the streets ready to run. My other Australian friend, Dan and a guy from Canada then took off and next thing you know there are 4 white guys in the street. The place went absolutely nuts and then after a series of 3 fire works went off, the box doors were lifted and out charged the bulls.

They were released at different locations on the street so initially there was a bit of a crossfire but then they found each other and started charging up and down together.

People of varying degrees of braveness were out there with them (initially about 40) and some acted like matadors, some would run right in front, some would kneel as they charged until the last second, and some would clear out whenever they got in the same zip code. Regardless, every time they looked at a person and started moving, no matter how valiant they were, that person sprinted for the wall and climbed as high as they could.

It was crazy because some would climb to the top of the wall where the bull couldn’t get them but as more and more people entered the street there was no more space when they made a pass so people would just move to the side and pray. Unfortunately it becomes a game of chance at this point and the bulls were neither intelligent nor happy creatures so some people got pummeled while clinging to the lower part of the wall (for the entire festival 1 died and 12 were taken to the hospital with serious injuries).

After about 30 minutes I deemed the bulls tired enough and there to be enough other people in the street that my chances of death or severe maiming were below the acceptable level so I ventured out there. I was able to get a friend to take a couple pictures and also got some of the bulls from ground level. Fortunately I had chosen that morning to wear red shorts, always thinking ahead.

When I got out there they were at the other end of the street, but wouldn’t you know it they found a second wind and came zooming past. I started running up the street then hopped on a fence with a bunch of other people. Unfortunately this was not the wall of the people I had paid earlier so there was a lot of pinching and pushing of my ankles, but it was going to take a lot more than that to get me off of there.

Talk about an adrenaline rush. I stayed out for a couple more passes and each time was just as exhilarating because you know it is not likely, but there is absolutely no telling what those animals and their 1,000 pound bodies will do and where they will charge.

After about 10 minutes I returned to the bleachers and watched the rest of the show from about as close as a safe distance can be. After 2 hours the bulls were rounded up and everyone piled into the streets.

We started walking to a restaurant as a group when all of a sudden there was a swarm of people who wanted a picture with me and Dan. It was pretty crazy, but apparently we looked very foreign and in outfits like these I can’t imagine why. Apparently they don’t see much of that in Huamantla and it created quite the attraction. In addition several of the girls wanted kisses and the like and it just got to be a bit embarrassing.

After lunner (lunch + dinner which is called the comida down here), we headed to a fair which was in town, then took a walk around to see the rest of the city. Very nice and very similar in layout to the others we have seen with the Zocalo in the center including a park surrounded by churches and shops. My friend Dan and I managed to pick up a red bandana and a red shirt for under 4$ to complete my walking tomato look then got someone to snap this gem.

At 7 PM we hopped back on the bus and I managed to convince a girl named Elsa that goes to UDLA to sit with me and give me a Spanish lesson for the 2 hour ride home. She innocently agreed and I now feel much more confident in my language skills.

All in all it was one of the wildest things I have ever seen or done. It is not necessarily an experience I am dying to repeat, but certainly one I can tell to Elsa's and my grandchildren.

WWF Mexican Style

It has been quite an exciting week including a university sponsored 3,000 student party last night at a huge bar. There was music and drinks both inside in a very nice ballroom and outside beneath huge tents and lots of tiki torches.

It was a great event and something I could never see an American university hosting (after watching other more reckless students, I observed beer was only served in 32 ounce glasses and you could not buy only 1 liter bottle of liquor but instead had to get two at a time), but something UNC should definitely consider.

Fortunately though, that was not the most fun or exciting event I attended this week. That title belongs to Monday night. I think we all know about the World Wrestling Federation in the US, but much less well known yet much wilder is the Mexican version called LUCHA LIBRE.

On Monday evening, 6 of us crowded into a compact car and drove to Puebla. I really had no idea what to expect, but we arrived and parked in a large garage. Upon walking down to the street we found a full blown market complete with tons of incredibly unhealthy but tasty looking food and street vendors selling insane amounts of t-shirts with all the wrestlers and tons of masks (more to come on that). We bought our tickets (50 pesos a piece = 4$) and headed inside with the crowds.

We were sitting in the top section and what I saw below me was insane. The actual building looked exactly like the Flint Michigan Tropics Arena in Semi-Pro except that instead of a court you had a wrestling ring with hundreds of seats surrounding it. Beyond those seats was a huge cage which extended from the ground to the ceiling (audience protection from the dangerous blood sport which was about to take place) and hundreds more seats and bleachers behind it.

As we sat down the first fight was just starting. I sat next to a Mexican friend who absolutely loved it and had attended many a time. He explained that there would be 4 rounds of fights with each consecutive one featuring more and more famous fighters.


As the action began the place went absolutely crazy. Cow bells, drums, whistles, and thousands of jumping screaming people with huge banners, large inflatable pool toys, and many wearing masks. The fights were equally as nuts since apparently Lucha Libre is not subjected to any regulations and featured some ridiculous moves including my personal favorite, the 3 man sprinting and diving through the ropes to spear the 3 wrestlers on the other team standing on the ground and then go somersaulting into the audience maneuver as people scrambled for cover.

After the second fight, I decided I couldn't take it anymore and had to pick up a mask so I headed out to the streets and after an incredible amount of deliberation selected this bad boy.


After returning, we got to see the last 2 battles which really got the crowd going especially when 1 rather rounded wrestler did a full blown strip tease. He then proceeded to get destroyed by the other team and the show was over. We headed back blown away by what we had seen and anxious to return.


Lucha Libre was certainly a glance into 1 aspect of Mexican culture, but tomorrow will be a different one when 2 bus fulls of UDLA students head to Huamantlada for their annual fair complete with the main spectacle, Mexico's very own Running of the Bulls which is supposed to rival that of Pamplona. It is supposed to draw huge crowds and though I don't anticipate running, it should be quite a spectacle to watch.

Capitan America

This entry is a bit over due, but it was quite the experience so I wanted to include it. Last Wednesday August 12, the country of Mexico stopped everything it was doing and converged on the nearest bar or TV set to watch the Mexico vs. US soccer qualifier for the world cup.

With the US in second place in our division and Mexico in 4th with only the top 3 teams advancing at the end to South Africa, this was a huge game and Mexico came out in full force.

In America, I am pretty sure ESPN included a 30 second segment in that morning's show and may have televised it because it was a Wednesday at 3:00 but not sure. Had I been in the states, it is possible I wouldn't have known the game took place.

Fortunately though I was in Mexico and there was no way every Mexican I knew was going to let the Gringo forget. Since this was their Super Bowl and everyone hated America for that day (and maybe beyond as I later found out), I decided I would make sure and lay low by acquiring a large American flag, hanging it around my shoulders and going to a local bar called Mamitas with a bunch of friends from around the world to watch the game.

The game itself was pretty interesting, but it was the action in the outdoor bar that really got my attention. The place was incredibly packed, but fortunately I had gotten there early enough to secure a seat right smack dab in the middle.

Things started off fairly calm with some giggles from the Americans about my cape and some joking and not so joking gesticulations from the locals.


All that changed very quickly though when the US scored the first goal of the game. The place was completely silent except for one person clapping, me. Imagine that awkward scene you see in the movies some times where something happens and only one person is clapping, then they gradually realize they are the only person clapping, but as they do so, they don't stop clapping, but only clap slower and slower until they stop. That is pretty much how it went with every head in the place glaring in my direction.

After that, the flag on my back became somewhat of a target for all the pent up anger everyone in this bar was feeling. They take this more serious than anything you can imagine. My homestay mother, one of the sweetest people in the world had already sworn to me at breakfast that day that she wouldn't speak to me for a week if we won. Things got a bit ugly and the neck went on a constant swivel for flying beer bottles (and we aren't talking 12 ouncers, this bar only sells liter bottles making for some heavy duty artillery).

Fortunately, or so I thought, Mexico soon scored the tying goal and everyone was jubilant and forgot about me for about thirty seconds. Then they remembered.

I thought having the lead was bad, but give these people something to talk trash about and they go crazy. With their new found energy the chants started flying in and after getting some translations, I can do nothing but apologize to my poor mother and her cursed name.

After the go ahead goal for Mexico in the second half, I was incredibly relieved and finally felt assured that I probably would survive this ordeal since it would be pretty bad form to kill in a time of celebration.

Nonetheless, that relief vanished when the game ended and every single Mexican in the entire bar began singing songs and chanting in unison. Fortunately, they were able to coordinate and focus every bit of it on me (this picture doesn't quite do it justice, but it was the best I could find, I am standing just to the right of the picture).



The surprising part was that most of the songs were about how much they dislike America. I have talked to some people since hearing these in trying to figure out what the source of the animosity is and from what I gather, it stems from our efforts to halt illegal immigration into the US which they have found highly insulting. I found this thought process a bit on the interesting side, but that's for another discussion.

After about 10 minutes of all the screaming and yelling, the strangest thing happened. It all stopped and all of a sudden, everyone, and I mean everyone in the bar wanted to take a picture with the flag (including this guy who desperately wanted my to kiss his Mexico arm band). The entire time I had been smiling and laughing and giving some thumbs up but I sure didn't see this coming.



People literally lined up and and a group of about 20 cameras started snapping pictures. Everybody was yelling Capitan America I want a picture, or Superman over here. I felt like Santa Claus for a bit, but never having been one to avoid a bit of attention, I consented. It took over half an hour until everyone seemed satisfied and by the end everyone was joking and offering me drinks (this first one is the same group from two pictures ago).




I was standing there a bit dazed by it all, but thought overall and in hindsight it was quite the experience. Not necessarily one I would choose to repeat, but still a lot of fun. Though the US lost, every body in Mexico was jubilant the rest of that day and night and for that it was definitely worth it. Capitan America probably won't be making a Mexican return any time soon, but I will always enjoy looking at these pictures.

The UDLA Orchestra's Newest Member

And now, a series of questions and answers to describe my latest predicament:

Do I need a course in the fine arts as part of my Spanish major? Yes

Can I use an art class or am I able to fit a drama class into my schedule? No

Is Musica de Camara II AKA Chamber Music which includes a spot in the university orchestra the only option? Si

Does anyone else in this course speak any type of understandable English? Not to my knowledge

Have I at any point been able to play an instrument suitable for an orchestra? Yes, 4 years of the trombone in 5^th through 8^th grades

Am I still able to play that instrument? Absolutely not

Do I remember a majority of the notes I will need to know? Not a chance

Am I incredibly rusty on the few notes I do know? Without a doubt

Has the entire rest of the orchestra been playing together their entire college careers including playing and practicing all of our songs all summer so that they sound beautiful when playing without their trombone? Easily

Were we able to finish any song in which I played at my first 2 practices? Nope

Is the violin section pretty? Thank goodness

Are there any other brass instruments in the orchestra so you can hide behind their noise? Nope nay a trumpet, tuba, trombone, or French horn to be found. Just a bunch of string and percussions so every single noise I make is blatantly obvious.

Do we have more than 7 concerts this fall? You bet (8)

Was I ever able to play the difficulty level of the music I now need to play? Never ever

Will I be ready for our concert in 12 days? Ha

Can I understand a word my conductor says or does he speak at the speed of light? The latter

What am I going to do? Still working on that one, but the class is a lot of fun and everyone is very nice so I guess I will be practicing the trombone quite a bit…in Spanish of course.

A Tour Through Puebla

This past weekend was a ton of fun including lots of new people, bars, and activities. The highlight was absolutely our trip on Saturday to Puebla. Puebla is world renowned for its many churches and colonial architecture and it sure didn’t disappoint.

After a 30 minute bus ride at the crack of dawn (9 AM feels like that when your late night food stop is a 4 AM feast at the taqueria on Camino Real, but like they always say, when in Mexico…) we arrived at the Zocalo (town center and beautiful little park) in down town Puebla.

From there we split up into groups and headed to the Puebla Cathedral and wow, this thing was not small!

Construction was started on it in 1575 and construction continued on and off until 1649 (Pillars of the Earth anyone?). Its front two towers are the tallest in all of Mexico.

That was about the extent of what I was able to gather from our tour guide (one of the amigos internacionales who are UDLA students and in charge of taking care of us aliens for the first couple weeks) despite the incredible amount of knowledge he shared with us on the history of Puebla. It was simply too bad he felt the need to address us in Spanish, but the wonder of how this behemoth was built without any type of electricity or power machinery was mind blowing.

From there we headed to an art museum. Admission is free if you have your UDLA student ID (I was the only one in the 22 person group who had failed to pick that bad boy up), but sometimes we were informed they let foreigners in for free. As a result I was told to make sure I appeared as an American and not a native Mexican and believe it or not, I pulled off the charade and we were admitted. Unfortunately no pictures allowed, but still some cool stuff. Instead of featuring art works, the artists actually just painted their works on the wall which made for some really cool rooms.

After this we walked down a beautiful street with trees down the middle of it and people playing instruments and selling huge bouquets of balloons.

At the end of this we got to another large church called the Iglesia de Santo Domingo which didn’t look like much from the outside but holy moly the inside was something to write home about. It had an entire chapel called Capilla del Rosario which was completely decorated in gold (walls, ceiling, and the enormous structure in the middle).

Pretty awesome, I would love to be the appraiser when that bad boy goes up for sale.

After this stop we cruised through some markets and ate a café for lunch. Despite the deliciousness of the chalupas, I went for a second entrée of tostadas and the bill still was only 8 American dollars (gotta love the exchange rate, I will probably name my first son Peso).

Lunch was followed up with some more market hopping including this picture of an eclectic group that was gathered together.

Following the picture we took a different route back to the Zocalo which we found had completely transformed in our absence into a full blown fiesta. There was an entire orchestra playing with a lovely trombone section (see next entry which will detail my first day of the orchestra class I am going to take this semester), huge banners, vendors, and tons of people.

I was able to have an hour long walk with a different amiga internacional named Hilda with whom I had a great conversation with (AKA I smiled and nodded while she spoke about a trip to Alaska including bears, eagles, and killer whales). Fortunately I came away from the conversation feeling great after contributing that I have a dog named Shamu.

After getting back on the bus and returning to Cholula, I was conned into going to a bar called La Playa for a drink. Imagine two of your favorite things possible.

If you came up with drinks and hammocks then this is your Mecca. Every seat in the place is made out of rope, the drinks are fruity and completely unacceptable to be had in a fraternal environment, the pool table is horribly slanted, and it was awesome!

That about sums up the day, it was great getting to explore such a historical area. As I alluded to before, the next entry will switch gears a bit away from trips and discuss what I am confident will be my most interesting and comical class this semester Musica de La Camara (CHAMBER MUSIC)!!!