Day 19
Today was a funny day. It started out so peacefully as I walked from my hotel toward a recommended coffee shop. Oaxacans pride themselves on their coffee and this particular shop not only sources from a coffee cooperative, but also roasts their own organic beans on site. The place was clearly catering to English speakers in addition to Mexicans. Their menu even featured bagels with lox and New York cheesecake. I would rank the bagels as better than the ones I can get in DC, though not as good as ones in New York.
The roasters were very friendly and let me watch their process. They carry 4 blends: house blend, dark roast, flower power and decaffeinated. Sadly, I could not figure out what flower power was all about, but it did have a very cute label. One worker told me proudly that in addition to roasting their own beans they make everything they serve in house: bread, pastries and all desserts. This stood in stark contrast to the churrerria in Puebla, which outsourced most of its products, from pastries to tortillas. I can see the merits of both.
As I sat and enjoyed my bagel with avocado and tomato on top, I browsed through a magazine, which shared my translated name: La Salvia. Okay, so I am perhaps not 'The Sage', but rather a person named Sage. Either way, it was a great magazine reporting on feminist issues in the province of Oaxaca, including equal rights for girls, violence against women, access to reproductive healthcare and an editorial on what equality really looks like. So often working in Sunset Park I have heard people speak to the limitations for girls in the Latino community. When I used to run a yearly camping trip, I had a lot of trouble getting girls’ parents to let them go. It was frankly explained to me by a fellow teacher who was part of the Latino community that girls just are not allowed to do the same things as boys. I have to say that I have not seen a lot of feminist support in the Latino community, especially among Mexican families. I realized upon looking at La Salvia that I had definitely begun to generalize Latino girls as non-feminists. Appalled at this realization, it occurred to me that what I read as feminist coming from a white, middle class, suburban, educationally privileged background must certainly differ from feminist cultural cues within Mexico and other Spanish-speaking countries. I then jumped to thinking about how I was not supporting my female students in their blossoming feminism if I am unable to detect it. Ugh. Not good. This is definitely something I need to work on.
My other big plan for the day was to go out and explore a balneario in the nearby village of Villa Hermosa. A balneario is a complex that includes many swimming pools of different temperatures, including water slides. There is also food and drink and it is a very popular place for families in the summer. Only 23 minutes from my hotel by car! It was too good to be true.
Yes, it was. I followed the Google directions that suspiciously ended with ‘make a right and go 2.7 km.’ Make a right where? Well, I knew the name of the town, so I followed the signs and even saw one for the balneario where I was heading so I turned right. It should be coming up on the left. After about 2 km, I reached a fork. Unexpected. I chose right and after a couple more kilometers got into a town with this beautiful church. Oh, great! It must be nearby. I stopped by a store and asked for directions. Up that road to the end. There were two roads so I clarified and followed her directions.
I followed the road to the plaza and saw this beautiful gazebo. It must be nearby! I asked a passerby who sent me down a hill onto an unpaved road. Hmmm… Well, what do I know? I don’t live here.
Following the road for a bit, I came to another fork and had the option to go on two roads with huge patches of mud. I stopped to ask someone else who drew me a map in the dirt. It did take me back past where I had already gone, but the man did seem very confident. As I attempted to turn around, I came across these lovely burros.
I then found myself back at the same intersection where I had originally stopped to ask for directions. Asking a different storeowner, I was told to go on the other of the two roads than I had initially and incorrectly tried to distinguish between. “There are arrows! Just follow the arrows!” said the second storeowner. I tried my best to follow the arrows, but ended up lost several more times.
I began to lose it a little bit and at one point when this dog walked in front of my car, I decided he was some sort of sign and decided to make a turn. After getting lost and talking to at least another half dozen people, a taxi driver finally directed me to the place. I half expected that with my luck it would then be closed for the day, but it was open. The pools were wonderful and I interacted with many wonderful staff and visitors while I was there.
Retelling this story is admittedly cathartic, but it also was an important cultural moment for me. Clearly the way I receive directions does not mesh well with how people were giving them to me. To my credit, I did keep stopping and asking for help and did not give up. Still, it was frustrating! I once again empathized with how some of my newly arrived students feel trying to follow instructions and trying to mesh with a school culture which must at times be baffling.