Las Mascaritas

Well, I labeled this under Jenny Winny Wino, but it might not exactly qualify. These are some pictures from a local bar called Mascaritas, "The little masks." Joe and Cita go here often, but I don't drink like those fish. I go sometimes. The bar is tiny but has the best jukebox in Tuxtepec. It is hot and the blood-sucking bugs get in, but it can be a fun place. They serve peanuts with chile powder and lime juice, and corn puff things with hot sauce on the side when you order a bunch of beer.
Odd, how I am living in the cradle of beer-land here (we are surrounded by mega-breweries for Corona in Tuxtepec. Well. One anyway.)and I would rather have wine most of the time. Go figure.

The Tower

My landlord is a Swiss named Billy. He designed and built the castle. When I first met him, he walked through the castle with me and showed me the spiral stairs that lead up to my floor from the tower. He explained that there is no rail and no center because he wanted to achieve a symmetric aesthetic, like a caracol. I can dig it. He also said, "Don't worry about falling - just keep to the sides."
Before Belly the Swiss got around to installing lights in the tower, it was pretty iffy at night and I had to stick to the walls.
Now the castle is illuminated and I get to enjoy the aesthetics.

my favorite student named Heidi

OK, I shouldn't say I have a favorite student, but I do. Her name is Heidi and she rocks! She studies quantum chemistry. She is totally cute and awesome. I do have other favorite students, I guess,, now that I think about it. And I have many many lug-nut idiot students that I hate. But I don't have pictures of them.
Here is Heidi in traditional dress, for a Chemistry Fair the school did. She had to usher some local school kids around the exhibits. And she, and everybody else, got out of class for it.
That's something I could complain about - the fact that nobody bothers to tell the English Department about ANY events so we don't know that our classes won't be happenening until we are the only ones that show up. I say I COULD complain about that, but anytime I get to spend a day without teaching, is a good time for me!

Burning the Bad

Carnaval:
Tuxtepec Style
The first night of Carnaval in Tuxtepec opens with the burning of the witch who represents all the bad feelings from the previous year. All the "mal humór."
We watched and took pictures and OF COURSE I was on the wrong side of the street to get a frontal view. Damn it.
But the witch was stuffed with fireworks so it got exciting and we had to stagger back as the little bottle rockets and sparklers went off.
Then we (the English Dept and friends) went to the Bar That Smells Like a Bar for some after-witch-burning drinkies.

Tuxtepec Piña Lady

When you cross the Papaloapan River coming into Tuxtepec from the direction of the UNPA, at the first major intersection you find the Piña Lady. They recently repainted her - which makes me think that they repaint her every year. Before they repainted her, she looked pretty Anglo - now she's darker, but still not as brown as the real people here.
There ARE still women who dress like this, but you don't see too many of them and they are mostly old women.
I see one most mornings walking to the Tux Van to come to work. She is always walking towards me on the sidewalk, dressed in her traditional costume and wearing no shoes - but with remarkably clean feet. I'm in awe. I wear shoes and my feet get filthy.

Christmas in Egypt Before the Revolution: Arrival and Museum

We got a taxi to the very cheap hotel that Sayed had found. It was clean and the beds were comfortable and was only 54EP per night. It had the added advantage of being next door to my favorite beer hall, El Horeyya.
The next day we slept late and then walked around Cairo some. I love and miss Cairo when I'm not there. Funny to think now that everything is different. The revolution centered right here, downtown, in Tahrir Square.

Christmas in Egypt Before the Revolution

The nightmarish Atlantic crossing and plane swapping from Houston to Cairo in coach class, passed in a sort of blur for me. I have no memory at all of my short layover in Frankfurt. I finally arrived in the Cairo airport at some time in the evening of the next day, only to meet with a ridiculous problem that had me screaming at an airport security man.
When you fly into Cairo International, as a foreigner, you have to buy a visa stamp for $15 US and then go through a customs line where an official attaches the visa stamp to your passport. There are several “banks” in this section of the airport that claim to give current exchange rates for currency and pretend to be international. There is one ATM. I hadn’t thought to get US dollars, because I don’t use them. I had $800 Mexican pesos, and I went to one of the banks to buy my visa stamp, only to be told that they don’t take pesos.
I went to the one ATM, to find that it was out of order.
I got a little scared then, and almost cried.
I asked a man at the bank, who told me to ask a policeman. The policeman took my passport as security and pointed me through a side-gate, bypassing the customs lines, and told me to go quickly to another ATM and get cash. I did, but the ATMs in the next section were out of order too, so I knew I would have to go out into the waiting lobby. I had to pass the final customs inspection lines to do this. I stopped the guard at the line and told him in broken Arabic and sign language, that I was going out for money and would be coming right back. He said “ok.” But he didn’t really look at me or listen to me.
Sayed was waiting outside in the lobby for me and he had somehow broken inside the gated area so he was standing alone. I was overjoyed to see him! Really. I was home again!
But, the emotional reunion was ruined by my frantic need to get US dollars and go back into the bureaucratic mess of the airport. I did find a machine that worked, got my dollars, and left Sayed in the lobby with my (uninspected) backpack and carry-on bags. I headed back through the last inspection point, only to be told by a complete jerk of a guard, that I couldn’t go through.
The guard asked for my passport and I said it was inside. He said, “No, everybody has to have a passport.”
I said, “Yes, I have a passport, but it’s inside where the guard is waiting for me to get my visa.”
He said, “Nobody comes in without a visa.”
I said, “Yes, I know. The guard inside has my passport and I am going back in to buy my visa.”
He said, “No, you can’t go through here. Nobody can go through here. Where is your passport?”
This sort of exchange went on for some time, with me repeating in English and Arabic that the police had my passport and I needed to get back to get it. We were getting nowhere, and other guards came over. I was getting louder and louder and starting to shake out of exhaustion and fear and the whole ridiculousness of the situation. At one point I tried to just walk on back, but two men stepped in front of me. They wanted to take me to another place and I flat refused. I will not be taken to any out-of-the-way offices by any Egyptian security men. Ever.
Finally, after we reached a point where we were all yelling at each other, another man came and said we could walk back through a different door. I went with him and was finally able to get back into the back, get the visa stamp, and go back out to the waiting arms of my happy husband. All’s well that ends well.