dance party (of two)

Monday marked the beginning of our week off in between visitors. Fortunately, this just so happens to be the week that there is another “curso de verano” (summer course) offered at the University’s Natural History Museum. It runs from 9:30-12:30 each day, this week only. Each day is different – bats on Monday, mammals (presumably other than bats!) on Tuesday, plants and trees (their words, kind of like bats and mammals, I guess) on Wednesday, volcanoes Thursday (they are supposedly building a paper maché one and making it explode) and fossils on Friday (“making” their own with plaster and shells). There are probably about 15 kids in the class, and three of them (from two separate families) speak English. One kid, Thomas, is the one I mentioned in an earlier post – he’s been raised here his entire life and speaks both English and Spanish fluently. The other two are siblings from NY. The mom is from a nearby town and the dad is Cuban; they come every summer to visit for a week or two. Maria, the mom, said she has the same issue at home in that they speak Spanish to the kids but the kids only speak English. So that was a little worrisome for me in terms of so much access to English, but I told Lucas and Zeiva they had to keep practicing Spanish while in the class and Lucas told me after day 1 that they were. He said the older boy from NY (9 yrs old) was kind of mean to him and “annoying” anyway, so maybe he’ll steer clear. Regardless, I think there will be active, hands-on activities for the full three hours, which will be fun for the kids no matter what language it’s in.

Another landmark for Monday was that it was the start of having a regular activity (if only for a week) in el centro, which means NO BUSES. I love the buses and all the people- and place-watching that they afford, but it was a long haul out to the club and back for an entire month. I had anticipated walking everywhere when I chose Guanajuato, and it has been nice to finally start a routine employing that mode of transportation. Django and I were talking it up all weekend, and the kids had no complaints about walking down or back up on Monday. Lucas also daringly requested no sandwich in the morning, just that I go find him tamales for lunch while he was at the museum.

a boxer waaaaaaay up on a rooftop above where
the tamale guy sets up shop on the sidewalk

the view up the hill towards our house from the gazebo in the middle of Jardin de la Union. the greek muses are along the top of Teatro Juarez (on the left), the rail of the funicular is just to the right of the gazebo post. There are the two spires of the Templo de San Diego, and the Pipila statue way up on the hill is in between them.

heading back home up the callejones 

And a huge highlight of the trip so far (for me, anyway) was also on Monday. Given that we were no longer taking our regular bus trips out to Marfil, we were talking about our favorite buses and how we weren’t going to see the drivers and fare-takers anymore. The kids decided that they wanted to draw some drawings to give them, that we’d try to track the buses down around town to deliver the drawings, take a photo of them together, and finally (very belatedly) find out their names. So Monday morning we left at our “old” time in the hopes of seeing our old regular bus. We got lucky and it came by. We hopped on, but for some reason it was only the driver and not the fare-taker. This fare-taker is a young, but very macho, “cool” dude. Slicked-back hair, snazzy clothes. He obviously really likes the kids, but his smile is subtle. Zeiva has a huge crush on him and Lucas a serious case of hero worship. So, the fare-taker isn’t on board. I quickly explain that the kids have drawings for both of them because this is one of their favorite buses and ask when the fare-taker will be back. The driver says tomorrow. Ok, we plan to try again on Tuesday. However, about two hours later as I’m wandering around town while the kids are at the museum, I see the bus pass by and the fare-taker is on it. I guess he just had a late morning. Then, as we get to the top of our hike up the hill at the end of the day, to the road where this bus goes by, we just happen to hear a bus coming. Could it be our favorite?? There are three or four of them on the route, so the odds aren’t great. As it rounds the bend, Lucas yells, “IT’S THEM!!” He instantly recognizes the number, the writing on the windows, etc and knows it’s the right bus. I’m hoping the fare-taker is still on board. Lucas runs frantically across the street waving his arms, and the bus stops for him and waits. We board, and I explain to the driver (again) and the fare-taker that the kids have drawings for them and would like a picture with them. I give the fare-taker the drawings and then Lucas explains what’s on them. They are very similar, because Zeiva asked for Lucas’ help with hers. They both have a very large, wide black road with a yellow dotted line down the middle as the prominent feature. Zeiva’s has some other random shapes, and then she wrote “Está el autobus” (The bus is here) and “Zeiva”. Lucas’ has the four of us waiting for the bus, the bus just entering the picture on the left, the same text about the busing arriving, and lots of detail matching the rocks and vegetation around our bus stop. The end of the route is very near our house at a hospital, so I ask if it would be best to wait until then and the driver says yes. We get to the hospital and he lets everyone off, then shuts the door so no one can board. They listen to a bit more about the drawings, about how we are no longer taking the regular bus to the camp in Marfil, but that one of our favorite things about our 6+ weeks so far is riding their bus, how the kids want a picture, etc. These two guys are just beaming. The kids ask them their names, and they ask the kids their names. They pose for a photo and then pull out their phones to take pictures of the kids. It was SOOOOOOOOO cute and so very awesome. Such a huge feel-good moment. As you’ll see in the photo below, Hector, the fare-taker, didn’t lose his uber-cool look for the record, but after the driver let on everyone waiting at the hospital and at least until they dropped us back off a few stops later where they’d picked us up, he was grinning ear-to-ear, turning around often to look at the kids. It was really touching. And for me, fully symbolized the difference between trying to actually live somewhere, even if for a short while and even if we still stand out, versus being a tourist for a week. Not that I would turn down being a tourist for a week just about anywhere, but I was grateful for having had that small interaction so many times over the course of a month such that we could then share that precious, appreciative moment with them.

Pipila-ISSSTE route, bus 0037.
Hector, the fare-taker, is on the left; Francisco, the driver,
is on the right. this is the kids' favorite bus that comes on
the route near the casita. if you didn't read the saga above,
the kids drew them pictures and we tracked the bus down even
though we're not riding anymore to deliver the art, get some
photos and finally learn their names. it was pretty darn cute,
and despite the serious looks on the their faces, they were
smiling from ear-to-ear when not posing for a photo.

Monday was a big day. In the evening, I also discovered that I’m in denial. I set the table for four instead of three. The kids are with me. Sunday evening, after Django left, they both threw fits at different points, but the theme was the same:

How loooong was it going to be until Tío (my brother) and Carolina (his partner) got here, because we needed someone here with us. We are all alone until then!

Well, what about me? I’m here.

Huh? You don’t count. We need more people here in order to be happy!

Makes me think about how true it is (at least for me) that it takes a village to raise a child, and how incredibly grateful I am for all the other wonderful, caring adults who are such a big part of Lucas’ and Zeiva’s lives when we’re home in Seattle. I’m glad two of them are coming to visit soon, and while I’m still cherishing our time here, I’m also looking forward to being back home in the big warm cushion of family and friends in a couple of weeks.

That feeling was seconded when I realized that 3 hours doing activities at a table, despite running around the plazas and walking into and back up from town, might not be enough physical activity for them. They were crazy, wild, nutjobs Monday at bedtime. I finally just left them in the bedroom, but after they’d stripped completely naked, stripped both beds of all blankets and sheets, turned on all the lights, opened the curtains and were bouncing on the king bed and shrieking – well past bedtime – I finally went in and sent Lucas to what is now referred to as the “bicho” (bug) bed in the living room and left Zeiva alone in the room. Lucas was sullen, Zeiva cried hard for 30 minutes before falling asleep. I got all kinds of “I don’t love you, I’m not going to listen to your words anymore, etc.” Joy.

Tuesday’s museum class went better. They made really nice mammal masks, watched a video on the animals of Madagascar (not the animation), among other things, and there were no negative interactions with other kids, fortunately. And I actually walked around town a bunch with the NY mom whose kid was purportedly mean to Lucas on Monday. We had a great time talking – she works for the Mexican network Telemundo, lives in Manhattan…it was interesting to hear about a life so different from mine and nice to have someone to share a gordita with again.

After the museum class, we went to El Jardín de la Union again and the ice-cream shop that we frequent was playing loud dance music (as it often does) and the kids went wild. It was hilarious. The two employees were laughing hysterically and encouraging Lucas and Zeiva to keep it up. Many people on the plaza, including me, were laughing hard as well. There’s really no way to explain it except with a bunch of photos!

the beginning of a dance sequence circulating in and out
of the three big arched doorways of the ice-cream shop

a brief distraction from the dance circuit as zeiva comes to scare me
with a fierce armadillo growl (masks from the natural history
museum class), but lucas is still groovin' away in the back (with mask on, too)

It was Zeiva’s turn to choose the route home up the maze of callejones, so Lucas ended up in a foul mood because – shocker! – she didn’t choose to go the way he wanted. Nothing like the concept of taking turns to be lost on a 6-year-old with a younger sibling. You’d think he’d have gotten it by now, but his dark cloud reigned all the way home and extended to the neighbor kid, who quit playing one game with him because Lucas was cheating, and then Lucas promptly quit another new card game because he didn’t win the first two rounds.

Fortunately, I tuned a lot of this out because while drawing with Zeiva, I noticed that the skin on my arm was really dry. I grabbed some lotion, which I hardly ever use, but Zeiva immediately jumped on me and said, “can I pleeeeeeaaase put the lotion on?” So I ended up getting a pretty awesome lotion massage on my arms, legs, hands and feet. It was positively dreamy!

And quickly countered by another completely wild evening that has ended in separation and tears again. I’m starting to feel like we’re coming full circle to the weeks after Nani left. That’s not a good thing – I don’t need this kind of closure. I’m in the bathroom, because it’s the only room left for me, sitting on the toilet (seat closed, mind you!) with my computer, the camera, and a glass of wine. Salud!