La Calle Por La Noche

Oaxaca, in the days leading up to Día de los Muertos.  Maybe it was just my imagination, my own excitement for Día de los Muertos, but there was an energy, an electricity in the air, and particularly at night, when people would come out dressed up, or in a parade.  I remember thinking shortly after arriving in Mexico, that while it is pretty during the day, it is stunning at night.  Maybe it is because everything seems to take on a kind of mystic quality, like the borders between the real and the unreal, reality and dreams seem to blur.  There is more potential at night; greater possibilities, choices and events that would never occur during daylight hours.  This is, of course, exaggerated to a completely different scale around Día de los Muertos, when the divide between the living and the dead realms is meant to be at its weakest.  Everyone seemed to be buzzing.  Although it may have just been that my vision was distorted by my own buzzing, shaking everything, I don't really believe that.  Sitting at this food stall I could feel the excitement tugging at me, drawing me back to see what was happening around the zócalo.

What I wouldn't give to be back there now, instead of working on an essay for Uni.  Even take away the excitement of Día de los Muertos, what could be more enticing than the carelessness of walking down a deserted street late at night, drawn by the scent of frying meats and tortillas?  Like a moth to the flame, not just drawn in by the smell, but by the well-lit stall against the dark night.  The carefree days of late night tacos.

TURN BACK NOW!

I nearly laughed when I saw this sign.  It seems a decent overreaction, to have a sign for some slightly uneven paving.  I mean, if you go around marking all the bumps, who's going to pay attention when the sign says: CAUTION: CHASM ?  Could you imagine walking down your street seeing signs saying: CAUTION: STEP at the gutter, or CAUTION: SLOPE at driveways?  A bit of an exaggeration, I know, but even more ridiculous.  What if I want to choose not to exercise my caution, as an act of rebellion?

I guess it is pretty easy (and maybe slightly corny) to extrapolate this, but I feel like this is really relevant for me at this time.  Life is a constant stream of bumps, and if you spend so much time looking down and focussing on them, you're probably going to miss something big up ahead.  Where is the fun in life you are constantly worried about finding yourself off-balance?  That's when the most interesting things happen.  This is, in part an explanation for my absence here; being over-run by uni with the semester ending.  Not a very interesting excuse, but I guess I've just been putting too much energy into the bumps along the way.

Buddha Goes to the Beach

Along the malecón of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, lie a range of sand sculptures, onsite lighting making them even the more striking at night.  I find this sculpture itself out of place in Puerto Vallarta, a highly commercialised, tourist town, hinted at in the lit up buildings in the background.  The malecón is not designed to be a peaceful walk at night alongside the incredibly detailed sculptures and statues.  Even more so than in less touristic places it springs to life at night, with a seemingly endless trail of food venders, toy and trinket sellers, and performers.

There is too much peace in the sculpture to fit.  It's also not very Mexican.  But I think the sculpture, standing taller than I, deserves my forgiveness this time.  I wish I could  keep so composed facing the constant threat of being washed away.  Maybe if I stretch my ears and grow some bonsai trees it will help.  I think I'll do that.

The Mysteries of the Korean Church

Wandering through the suburban streets, you only have to navigate a couple of corners to come across this church from my house.  It's not a very pretty church, simple red brick, although it does have some stained glass windows, it doesn't appear very remarkable at all.  The denomination in Uniting, a common Christian denomination in Australia.  What intrigues me about it though, if you look at the sign, is that it's Korean.  I also really like their minibuses with the Uniting Church insignia and Korean writing on the sides.  I have seen a couple of churches in Australia that are something like - Chinese Baptist Church - or something of the sort, and they always stick out at me, but they are still so rare. To me it seems quite bizarre, it poses many questions, but mostly: are their services normal, but just in Korean?  Is that the only difference?  I really want to attend one of their services to find out, but my conspicuousness concerns me: I don't exactly look Korean.  And really, if I went, I don't speak Korean, and even if I did, I don't know what a normal Uniting Church service is like to compare it to.  But despite all that, it is very intriguing.  Every time I walk past I find myself staring at it and wondering.  So many mysteries around this small Korean church...

Lupe II

I've already discussed the Mexican virgin Guadalupe in another entry, so I won't be re-hashing that.  I just love the intensity of this photo; the sheer volume of religious iconography, the prominence and centrality of Guadalupe and the brightness of the colours and in particular the flowers.  What else is so great about this is is that it was located in a small, roadside restaurant in Oaxaca.  By small I mean that while it wasn't small in size, it did have a definite quaint feel about it, particularly in the way that the waitress/cook/owner (I guess), an elderly woman, would simply come and ask you what is was that you wanted to eat, without providing a menu.

Such intense and concentrated imagery in such a relaxed, everyday setting.  Religion is a funny thing sometimes.

Cambios...

I have talked about Cuba before, in other entries.  But today I want to talk about feelings (oooooooh).  Cuba is, above all else, confusing.  In a lot of ways you feel like you've gone back in time: 1950s cars, horse and carts being legitimately used as taxis and in towing, the casual attitude, kids playing with tops in the street...  But then sometimes you come across something and it is completely disorientating.  For instance, you can find Internet access in Cuba (although it can be difficult/impossible at times), once I saw a new-looking Audi (excuse my lack of knowledge about car models... but it was shiny if that helps) or the fact that they are meant to have an amazing medical system.  Added to these temporal confusions are social ones, and in particular, economic ones.

In some ways, the confusion I'm feeling now is the same that I experienced in Cuba.  In some ways I feel like I've gone back in time - I'm back in the same city, attending the same university and I have the same friends (who have not at all changed from when I last saw them).  But then I get disorientated: I'm doing Honours now, my schedule is different, I live in a different neighbourhood.  There are also added social and economic confusions.  But really, in the end, it all boils down to the fact that I am different.  I wasn't sure that I was completely compatible before, but now I know I am not.  I have come to the conclusion that I really need new friends, to make my current ones become old friends.  I am not compatible with them, and I feel that being around them makes me into a worse person.  I need my freedom back.

México en una cajita...

I went to a function today, a homecoming celebration/debrief here in Melbourne, Australia, for students who had recently returned from exchange.  It was about reverse culture shock, using the exchange experience to sell yourself to employers and future directions, basically.

When I think of how Mexico seems to Australians, this picture is what I think of, as well as Taco Bill's, drug cartels, tequila and sombreros - as in ridiculously large, straw hats.  Although that had never been my summary of Mexican culture, there is no way I want to revert to someone who even makes those distorted associations, let alone believes them.  I was shuddering internally when the speaker even mentioned 're-assimilation' and 're-integration', but maybe that is in part due to my studies in Anthropology.  Ideas of a culture should never be condensed into a mass-produced package and shipped off for consumption.  Ironically, I took this picture for my boyfriend, who had set me the task of taking photos of normal, everyday things in Australia that would not seem normal to him.

Part of my aversion to ideas such as 're-assimilation' clearly stem from not wanting to give up ways that I have changed, to revert back to the 'original me'.  But, on the other hand, seeing again how Mexico is portrayed in here, makes me cringe at the ways that similarly I, as part of my own culture, am represented in some packaged-format as well.  I mean, this was obvious to me when I was in Mexico, and basically whenever I would mention Australia to a Mexican I would get a comment about kangaroos.  Maybe in this way I feel double packaged: originally in Australia, then shipped off, adjusted, and shipped back in a shiny, new Mexican wrapper.  I just wish wrappers weren't necessary.