We go to the Nomadas hostel in Merida at about 2:30 yesterday. The hostel was clean, well-run, and affordable ($17). We settled in and took a few minutes to calendar out the rest of our trip. We have heard differing reports about the cities we had planned to see, and we wanted to map things out. We decided that we will stay longer in San Cristobal and go to Puerto Angel (south of Oaxaca on the coast) to chill out on the beach. We´ll spend approximately 4 days in Oaxaca and Mexico City each.

We walked from the hostel to the main plaza, El Zocalo, just to look around. There are less gringos here, so approximately 1,000 Mexicans asked us if we wanted a hammock (hamaca) on the 10 minute walk to the square. A legit senor from the tourist office came up to us in the square. He gave us a list of free attractions and led us to a Maya warehouse. Apparently, there are different factions of hammock vendors in Merida. The Nomadas hostel supports one group and the senor from the tourist office warned us against them. He led us to a government sponsored hammock warehouse. According to him, the Mayans who work there don´t pay taxes and they make a higher quality product, not from nylon. We received a demonstration on the superiority of these hammocks from a producer for about 20 minutes. Neither Kathy nor I had any desire to buy a hamaca but we played along.

Next, we went to the Governor´s Palace to look at some murales by Pacheco, who is from Merida. He studied under Diego Rivera and his murales cover the same topics. The paintings were grand, communistic, and powerful. They gave a good history of Merida; the resistance of the Mayans, the conquest of the Spanish, Henequen production, and the Revolution. Afterwards, we had dinner at a Yucatecan restaurant off of the main square. I had Choc-tuc, which is a traditional Mayan way of preparing pork. They use oranges in the marinade and the product is appealing. Kathy had a quesadilla with some sort of black mushrooms in it. Unfortunately, the mushrooms were not the hallucinogenic type that are apparently famous here, but they were rich and tasty.

We met up with Kathy´s friend at Hoyo, a newly established coffee shop 3 blocks from the square. We had a few drinks and I was jealous of the Waffle Kathy and Marika ordered. It had a caramel like syrup, bannanas, and Ice Cream on top of it. Que rico! The conversation was somewhat stilted, but I did learn a lot about immigration laws. Marika and her friend Amber are both married to Mexicans. Amber may never get to return to the states with her husband because they have not been living in the same place in Mexico for long enough. To even legally visit the US with a Visa, you must show that you have serious economic ties to Mexico. Amber´s husband is in a band "Punk Guerrilla," so it´s hard for them to prove. Marika and her husband´s situation is different. They have been applying for legal residency within the US for 2 years. They hope to get their first face to face meeting by next November.

We went back to Nomadas and were asleep by 11.

Today has been a long one. We had the complimentary breakfast of bread and butter and walked to Marika´s house to drop off our bags. We left quickly in order to have a free walking tour of the Zocalo from the tourist office. Victor was our guide. He spoke decent english with a heavy accent and went from it to Spanish between sentences so that the Mexican tourists and us gringos could all understand. He showed us the Bishop´s house, the cathedral, and the Governor´s house, which together with the tourist office form the 4 sides to the Zocalo.

Merida was an important city to the Mayans because of its proximity to the coast. Where the Zocalo is now, once sat the grand pyramid of the Mayans in Merida. The Spanish, led by a father-son-nephew Montejo trifecta, tore down the pyramid and put up spanish buildings. As we were walking throught the bishop´s house, which is now owned by Banamex, Victor pointed out the collumns. Portions of the collumns had holes in them where you could see the original Mayan stones that were taken from the pyramid and used in the new buildings´constructions. The rest of the tour was okay. The cathedral was nice, but I don´t really like churches. We took a second look at Pacheco´s murals, tipped Victor, and headed on our way.

It is hot here. We walked to a fresh fruit market that was 14 blocks away. We drank a liter of water along the way. We bought 2 mangos (90 cents) and slurped them down in a small square next to the market. They tasted sweet and fresh. We headed toward the Museum of Anthropology in hopes of seeing a Cantina along the way where we could order a beer and get free appetizers. No suerte. We got to the museum, and realized how hungry we were, so we trudged aimlessly in search of food. Three old ladies in a convenience store suggested a Chinese place for us because Kathy could not eat meat. We checked it out, but Kathy could have only eaten rice there. Something must have been lost in translation.

Next tore was Tacos de Cabeza. There were 3 areas to this fine eatery, and we made our way to the air conditioned quarto in the back. Kathy ordere something vegetarian and I ordered tacos. The tacos never came but the vegetarian stuff was surprisingly tasty and filling. There was also a free appetizer. I had a cerveza. The bill came to 3.50.

The air conditioning in the Museum was a nice relief. The displays covering Mayan civilization were fairly informative and mildly interesting. I like history, but not the old stuff. Here´s some interesting tidbits. Elite Mayans shaped their children´s heads to make them as flat as possible on top. They used boards and vices to achieve this. The Mayans were really good at keeping time, collecting water (there are no rivers in the Yucatan), and philosophizing. They had a deep faith and saw celestial forces at work in their everyday lives.

It was still hot when we left the museum. I wanted to scream, "Yes, I am a gringo, but I do not want any of your god damned hammocks. ¡No quiero hamaca!" After resting on a bench we decided to go back to Hoyo for some caffeine. The afternoon dragged on as we read while the rain poured. We have basically been killing time (as you can tell by the minute details of this blog) waiting for our night bus to Palanque at 10.

I am currently reading Leon Uris´Exodus, which is about the establishment of Israel interspersed with horrifying flashbacks to the Holocaust. I feel like I should have a witty comment for what it feels like to read a Zionist novel in the Yucatan, but I simply do not. I think we are going to leave this wonderful Interneteria soon for some dinner and then eventually trudge back to the bus terminal. We will see Palenque in the morning and probably collapse shortly thereafter. After that, it´s off to San Cristobal, which we have heard great things about.

Hasta Luego, John

Kathy and I are currently in a town called Piste, which is basically where Chichen Itza is. The ruins were pretty awe inspiring, but we were constantly approached by merchants. I actually would have bought something but I don´t want to carrry it around for the rest of the trip. The Mayans seemed to be a vicious people that were great at astronomy and calendar keeping. Different historians have different versions about how they lived, but human sacrifice and mythology seemed to define much of their lives. There was a castillo in the middle of the ruins that made me feel very small. We went to see a laser show at night but we got rained out.

We stayed a night at La Posada Olalde ($25). It was expensive but we each had our own bed, hot water, soap, towels, and a fan that kept us cool. Piste is very dirty and poor. There are many decrepit dogs running around with lesions and flies. Once again, the people seem nice. We got breakfast this morning. Juevos, jamon, y queso por mi. Juevos y queso for Kathy. Bread and butter plus 2 cofees. 8 dollars for it all. We are going to catch a bus for Merida in a few minutes where we will meet up with Kathy´s friend Marika and her husband.

Love you all,
John

Mi Viaje en Mexico

On Wednesday my sister and I met eachother in the Cancun airport. It was the beginning of what will be a three week trip in Southern Mexico.

Pathetic as it is, this is my first time seriously traveling outside of the United States. On the short flight from Miami I wondered about the culture and landscapes I was about to see. I was extremely excited. Cancun deflated my excitement in about 30 seconds. We took a cab through La Zona Hotela which somehow manages to be more American than most American cities. Multiply Vegas by MTV´s "Spring Break¨ and you get the main beach in Cancun. Senor Frogs, Jimmy Buffet´s Margaritaville, Bubba Gump, etcetera.

Luckily, Kathy and I are on a budget so we couldn´t afford to stay in La Zona. We spent our first night in a not too bad hotel in downtown ($40). The next morning we had a superb desayuno. El Cafe was muy fuerta. Por mi, juevos, queso, jamon, pan y mantequilla. We hopped an ADO bus for Playa del Carmen at noon.

Playa del Carmen is about an hour south of Cancun. The beach here is clean, quaint, and only partially Americanized. Near the beach is where tourists typically stay. The restaurants seem nice but they are expensive by Mexican standards. Inland a few blocks you will find mercados, lavanderias, and Mexicanos. Kathy and I booked a room in Urbana Hostel ($20) for two nights. We were glad to be away from the Uncle Sam vomit of Cancun and headed straight to the beach.

I sipped on a rum and coke while mi hermana sun bathed. We ate some camarones at one of the beach restaurants, shopped at Mega for groceries, returned to the hostel, and took a siesta. I woke up groggy and got caught watching Sin City for about 45 minutes. Then, I started to make friends. Carlos, who is somehow connected to the running of Urbana Hostel, played a guitar on the roof patio. A woman from Spain sang with Carlos and the rest of us joined in when we knew the words. There was Adriana from Italy, David from Monterey (a state in northern Mexico I believe), two more Mexicans whose names escape me, and a girl from Holland. It was a nice group sitting in a circle and it made me happy.

Kathy and I ate some quesadillas at a barbacoa ($2 each) which was served with modest portions of refried beans, macaroni (?), and salad. We purchased some cervezas on the way home and drank, sang, and discussed nothing too important till midnight and retired.

We got up at 7 the next morning in order to catch a bus to Tulum. We snacked on fruit and enjoyed some more delicious coffee before taking the 45 minute trip. Those of you who know me know I love coffee and consider myself somewhat of an aficionado of the lovely little bean. Well, I´ve had about six total cups of coffee so far in Mexico and each one has been outstanding. It´s dark, strong, and raw.

We went to Tulum to see some Mayan ruins and the beach as well. The ruins were really really old and semi-interesting. The beach was gorgeous but crowded. In fact, the whole place didn´t really sit well with me because there were so many tourists. I guess I don´t like to be reminded of what I actually am on this trip. We returned to the hostel by 1 in order to watch Mexico play Argentina at 2. We sat in a bar that I think was called "2 for 1" which of course refers to the ever present drink specials. David, Matt (from Holland), Kathy and I took full advantage of the special during the game. It was pretty fun. Mexican males poured into the bar. Many were wearing their work uniforms, and I some only stayed long enough for a beer. I suspect that many of the were working and could not watch the full game. Everytime Maradona was shown, they booed and it was raucous throughout. Mexico lost 2-1 in overtime. It was great socc - I mean futbol.

After sobering up with coffee and some quiet reading, I went to what is now my favorite restaurant in the entire worled. It is the Billy the Kid Taqueria about 4 blocks back from the beach. I ate 4 beef tacos for $1.60. They give you limes, onions, cilantro, and an array of salsa. Nothing fancy, but the tacos come quick and it´s the best deal I´ve found so far. I think the food will get cheaper as we distance ourself from the metropolis of Cancun.

Thinks were quiet in the hostel but my frat boy radar sensed that people wanted to party. I walked to the mercado with the girl from Holland and purchased a bottle of tequila, tostados, and limes for $9.00. I sat around the rooftop table with a great group of people. There was Oscar from Spain, Martin (who I will discuss more in a little bit), David, Lucas from Argentina, Matt, Diego and a Swede. They all warned me about the Tequila as if I had never drank it and peer pressured just about everyone to take a shot or two. We got drunk. We all went out to the club area about midnight. We went to a place called the Blue Parrot. There was a cover of $5 but you got two free beers so it was nice. From what I gather, it´s one of the nicest places in La Play del Carmen. The music was great (everything from Hanson to Snoop Dogg to Salsa) and the beachfront dancefloor was fun. Martin and I seemed to know how to have a good time better than most. W danced with a few girls from Mexico City and danced liked idiots just to make others laugh. We must have toasted each other 40 times before the night was over. I sweated a disgusting amount and made it into mi cama about 4.

This morning, Kathy and I had juevos y cafe, purchased a ticket for Chichen Itza, and went back to the hostel. Every single person asked me if I had a good time the night before and was I hung over. Yes and no were my truthful answers.

Martin es mi amigo but he makes a living as a guide in Akumel which is a resort area 20 minutes from Del Carmen. He showed up around one, and guided me, Kathy, David, Oscar, and Diego to "un lago pequeno". We took a van collectivo the Akumel. Martin got us the snorkeling gear for free and led us to the most fantastic lago pequeno I have ever seen. It was a rocky shallow lake that was really just a super secluded bay from the Carribean Sea. The fish were amazing. We must have swam for 2 hours. The parrot fish were huge, the water was clean, and you could actually hear the fishes eating (click click) when they bumped head first against the boulders. I´m not a biologist but they were probably eating lichen like stuff off the rocks. Absolutely beautiful. At times I felt like James Bond exploring the underwater mini canyons.

Next, we went to see a cenote, which is a limestone cave spring thingamajig. On the way I saw some Mexican poverty. All along the highway from Akumel to del Carmen there are sea resorts where white people live, whom are mostly Americans. For every huge resort on the beach, there is a corresponding shanty town on the other side of the high way where the workers live. The towns look dirty and are apparently completely dependent on the resorts. Lots of dogs. Walking to the cenote I got a close look at one of these villages. Looking at a bamboo structure with tin roofs I asked Martin, Casas? Si. I was shocked. I talked with Martin a little bit about the economy. He was such a jovial guy but he was clear that the economic segregation of the area made him angry.

Tonight I packed and will read a little bit. We go to Chichen Itza to see the granddaddy of Mayan Ruins tomorrow. I am excited to get away from the Cancun area. Everyone has sad Chiapas is the best so Kathy and I are budgeting more time for it. I have so much to write but I am tired.

A couple things. My spanish is much better than I thought. If I had 3 months I think I could be pretty fluent. My understanding has already improved (people everywhere talk pretty much about the same stuff). I speak better when my inhibitions are down. There is a certain clarity when you don´t know a language well. So far, mis amigos speak a little English, I attempt Spanish, and we seem to communicate pretty well.

The coffee really is unbelievable.

I am enjoying the time with my sister. We make a good team.

Oh, tengo sueño. Buenas Noches.

John

My First Year

I met the new TFA '06 corps for Miami-Dade last week. Even though I only have a year under my teaching belt, I felt like a wise owl. I did not bother trying to explain the hardships they will face. It would have been impossible to relate the agony of my first month. I don't think agony is too strong of a word. There were days early first semester when I lost hope. Students would swear at me. My feet hurt. My mind raced with questions about the next day. Miami and my entire living environment were stained by the job. It really really sucked.

There was no reason to tell this to the new corps members. For the most part, they seemed to have the necessary ingredients for success in their first year. True, some had misconceived notions about what teaching in an inner city school was actually like. For example, one '06 told me he planned on getting materials from his professor for his high school social studies class. I wanted to say, "You might want to check with your eighth grade teacher for reading materials." But this is small stuff that you can't really be told. You must try and fail, figure out why you failed, make the necessary corrections, and try again. The necessary ingredients I mentioned might look something like this.

1) Optimism: You need to believe that teaching will get easier and your students will continue to learn better as you get better. Pessimism at my school was everywhere, and was as tempting as most sins are. Stay out of the teacher lounge, believe in yourself, your kids, and your mission as a teacher.

2) Persistence: It's sort of a cliche within Teach for America, but persistence might be the most important ingredient. It's hard to believe, but your students will want you to swear at them in rage or even give up completely on them. The door is never far away, and most corps members have other options. You will see other teachers quit. If you do quit or swear at them, it will simply confirm their own experience. But if you persist, and greet their disrespect with a firm love, they may begin to believe in themselves. By second semester, you might even begin to believe in yourself.

3) Humility: Guess what? It's not your school. It's theirs. It's the students' school. Most walk from public housing to it everyday. They know where the dope boys hang out, but they also know how to avoid them. They know who they terrible teachers are, and they know who the good ones are. If you run out of hall passes, ask them. They collect them for opportune moments. It's also the permanent teachers' school. Ms. Jackson has been at Northwestern for 38 years. That is love. My contribution pales in comparison. Don't think that what you learn at Institute for 5 weeks gives you a right to tell other teachers how to do their job. It is true that more learning occurs in my class than most, but I work 60-70 hours a week for that result. I am young, idealistic, and most importantly, I have only been fighting for one year. Always treat your students with respect. Serve them to the best of your ability.

4) Friends and Family: Don't hide your agony from friends and family. Once they understand your mission, they will give you more support than you can imagine. Soon, you will find immense pride in telling what you are doing to others. Don't think that just because you're out of college and in the "real world" you have to be the rock of Gibraltar. You are human. Call Mom crying if you need to. Then, get back to work. People who love you will always be there.

I taught seniors Social Studies my first year of teaching. First semester, I taught Government. Second Semester, I taught Economics. It was the same periods and the same students, but a whole new class.

My kids did not learn very much first semester. I can't even talk about "data" because I did not assess them enough. Let me recap the mistakes I made first semester and the steps I've taken second semester to change them:

• The Notebook System: The idea was that students did everything in their notebooks and handed it in every three weeks. Not a good idea. If the student forgets their notebook they have an excuse not to work. Some students didn't do any work during class and copied from their friends outside of class. Plus, the students were being informed of their progress every three weeks rather than constantly.
  

Second semester, there was no notebook. The required materials were pen and paper. If a student didn't have either of these, I provided. There was no excuse not to work. I threw paper at them (luckily, the copy machine worked most of second semester). I organized their work and posted grades every week. Students always knew their grade. Sometimes they would complain when they saw how much failing a test hurt their grade, but it's worth it to keep them informed.

• "Behavior Focus": This one might be controversial. First semester, I reacted everytime someone used profanity. When you have 12 people swearing in every period, that's a lot of phone calls home. I must have written 20 referrals.
  

I taught them Economics second semester. My kids vocabalary measurably improved. They know how to create and use supply and demand schedules. They know what a ticker symbol is, and what the different options are for investing. They can write checks, and they can tell you about shopping for credit cards. They are also still immature. I tolerated some disrespect, but when they crossed the line I quietly asked them to leave. No referral, no conduct cut, and no pulsing of veins. Just leave. It put the burden on them and away from me. They still swear and are irresponsible at times. But I don't think I could have taught them responsibility or manners in one year. But they have useful knowledge, and they know what hard work, decorum, and drive look like. I modeled all three every day.

This will be my last blog for 7 weeks. I am going to Mexico soon, and will be laying low for the rest of the summer. Next year, my blog will be more consistent but with shorter entries.

John