Football

Down here, they take their football (aka: soccer) very seriously. If I want to talk about football as we know it, I must refer to it as American football. Then try to tell them that there's a Canadian football. Watch confusion grow. Moving on: most everyone seems to have season tickets to one of the two city teams: the Rayados (which means 'stripes'), and the Tigers (which means....'tigers'). The rivalry between the two teams is intense, and you are either a Rayados fan, or a Tigers fan. We have been informed by students and peers alike that we will like the Rayados. The reason: the Tigers is the 'working class' team. So I guess if you're educated, you would want to cheer for the Stripes as opposed to the Tigers....but I digress.

One of the longer-term Canadian teachers offered to sell us her seats for last Saturday's game, as she couldn't make it. For only $25 a pop, we figured why not see what the fuss is about?

We went with another couple that we know (US teacher, Mexican boyfriend), and I'm glad because we would have had a much more confusing time if we had went alone. First of all, the stadium is part of the main university. And it is huge. Like, 70,000 people huge (thanks for the stats, Wikipedia). Here's a shot that I ripped off the internet; I put a yellow area to signify approximately where our general admission seats put us (click the photo for a larger image):

It was about that crowded too. Outside the main gates, there was a dour-looking police officer or soldier -- there was no telling which. Other uniformed dudes walked around with dogs, one of which was a very male doberman. We got patted down on our way in, I presume for weapons, as Mexicans uniformly hate drugs (the drug trade is basically destroying their economy). I was going to bring the camera (which is working again!!), but I had been warned that it would have been confiscated. (An aside: it kills me how you can't take a camera into venues, but people can still take their camera-equipped phone in and snap all the pics they want.) Walking through the lower level towards our ramp, we passed open grills with coils of sausage and other various meats (after seeing the 'cooks', we decided not to buy any food), beer vendors, a man guarding a gigantic block of ice on the floor (apparently they break off pieces for the beer pails -- more on them in a bit), and gag-inducing water fountains. I was warned off of the washrooms, so I have nothing to report there.

The lower seats of the general seating area are not seats at all; they are just concrete steps, Roman coliseum style. We ventured up higher, and were pretty much on the edge of our section (you can kind of see the separating fence to the right of my yellow arrow). This area had wooden planks to sit on. On every fifth stair or so, there was a beer vendor.They have these 20L pails of beer bottles and the a fore-mentioned ice. You signal to them, they pour your 1L beer, you give them 60 pesos ($6Cdn), and they somehow scrape together a living. Everybody wins!

Now you can't really see this too much in the picture; you'll have to direct your attention to the right side of the photo. The front-row of the stands are at ground level. There is a little wall (the front of the stands) and then two metres or so of grass. Then there is a moat. Yes an empty, concrete moat, like the type that surrounds the bear cages at a zoo, to protect the visitors. This moat is (presumably) to protect the field/players from the spectators. To add to this, in the end-zone was a black-clad cop with a dog. Because all of this was not enough, along the two metre strip of grass were riot-gear clad police, complete with sheilds. Needless to say, I was hoping for some action.

In the dead-centre of the endzone (do they call it that for soccer?) were the rowdies. You think you know what a loud, excited crowd is like, having gone to a football or hockey game. You don't. About 10 people came in with drums. Giant, blue bass drums (team colours: blue and white). Then there were the flags. About 10-15 small bedsheet-sized flags. They were all exactly the same, and all homemade. These flags flew continuously for the entirety of the 90+ minute game. Oh yeah, and the drums keep going too. And the songs. This team, you see, has about 20 different songs dedicated to them, and everyone knows the words. But what's singing if you're not moving to the music. Everyone in this endzone area was jumping around in time to the music. It looked like waves, or wind over tall grass. Also, twice a smoke bomb went off there too; I'm not sure of the logic of enjoying the game so much that you want to obscure your view with smoke. So there were drums, flags, smoke bombs, jumping and chanting the whole time. I was entertained.

But if they're that excited just watching the game, how about when there's a goal??? Well, when the Rayados scored, I turned to look at my entertainment. I was confused, and not disappointed. It was a human avalanche, I cannot describe it any other way. What seems to happen, is that for some reason they forget about the moat and the riot team and the dogs, and the fans seem to want to rush the field. So there's a flow of humans down onto that little strip of grass. Then the human-tide goes out, so to speak, and they flow back up to their seats, riot-cops encouraging them back up over their little wall. Fascinating.

Every time the team was about to score, everyone jumps up, throws whatever's in their hands, and screams in agony when there's a miss. My American friend received a cupful of beer in her hair a few weeks ago.

I was really looking forward to the reaction when the other team scored. Would there be blood? Riots? Scarified goats? This was the only time I was disappointed. There was nothing. Not even a general uproar (well, they still yelled, but it seemed less somehow). Maybe if volume is their way of cheering on their team, silence is their means of disapproving the opponents.

Half time's event: three obstacles reminescent of Most Extreme Elimination Challange, except there really weren't any safety mats and the contestents consisted of chubby children. Pretty much every one of them face-planted off of a hieght of 6 feet or so. Most amusing thing I've seen pretty much ever.

And about the game itself? I don't even know who the opposing team was, the final score was 2-1 for Rayados, and really, it was just a bunch of men kicking the ball around.

Independence Day

Firstly, I have been meaning to update since Wednesday. The reason why I haven’t is I’ve been PO’d because our digi-cam broke, and there were pics that I wanted to include in this post. Grrr…

Anyhow, on September 16^th, Mexico celebrates its independence. From whom you ask? More on that later. Because pretty much everything was closed on Wednesday, everyone goes out to party on Tuesday night. As the Mexican boyfriend of a colleague told us: the streets would run with tequila.

We were invited to that colleague's for a party. Our Austrian friend came as well (it's funny to think that I had to come to Mexico to become friends with an Austrian). Because the Mexican's really seem to love the communal-food thing, I volunteered to bring chocolate-chip cookies, and we were tasked to bring cheese (Oaxaca cheese, good for melting, similar to mozzarella). After we got home from after-school clubs, I whipped up the cookies, Andrew ran out to the grocery store down the street for the cheese, and then we were on our way.

There was a mix-up in the directions, which resulted in Andrew and I wandering in suburbia and a parking garage for about half and hour, carrying a ziploc bag of cookies, and a wheel of cheese. We felt like participants on "The Amazing Race." Eventually, out of frustration, we sought out a phone in the Holiday Inn across the street. I won't go into details about how you use a pay phone at the Holiday Inn in Mexico; suffice it to say it doesn't take coins or credit cards (however, mysterious, overpriced phone card will be accepted, with difficulty). We placed our SOS call to my Austrian savior, who came to pick us up.

We arrived at the party, no worse for wear (except for broken cookies). As time passed, more and more Mexicans showed up to this tiny ground-floor apartment. Most of the party was outside. A grill was produced, beef ribs were cooked, and I never figured out what the cheese was for. Attempting to learn some history, I asked a pink-shirted man what went down for Mexico to gain its independence. I expected a quick 3-5 sentences about who, what, when. What I did get was a non-stop lecture about I'm not even sure, because I tuned out after about 5 minutes. The great thing was that every time my attention wandered, Pink-o would get annoyed and fuss until he could continue. Joy.

I finally extracted myself, spoke on the merits of old Metallica versus new Metallica, saw the time, found Andrew (ask him who He-Man is) and left the party.

On the actual day of independence (Wednesday), we went, along with friends, to the gigantic flag monument. It's up on a hill, and there's about 20 or so gigantic Mexican flags flying. The view was great (and so would be the pictures...) and the weather hot.

And that is how your average Mexican 20-something celebrates their country's independence.

Curious

The San Pedro area of the city of Monterrey is the riches neighborhood in Latin America. Think about that for a second. So then why is it that we have had two power outages in one month? I just don't get this place. For all their hooplah and posturing, things seem slightly polished on the surface, and barely held together underneath. It's not horrible, but it makes one wonder...

We went out last night to Sierra Madre Brewing Company. It's a small-ish chain of restaurants here, and they obviously micro-brew their own suds. We needed a cab to take us there. After stopping for directions, taking the long way, and getting lost (he clearly wasn't sure where to go), we spotted the sign to the restaurant. Having had enough of this guy, we told him to stop the cab (our intention was to walk the remaining distance; taking the cab would have involved many turn-arounds and lane-changes). He kept driving along the freeway, so out of anger, annoyance (at getting ripped off), and frustration, I flung my car door open, and yelled at him to stop the car. Evidently, cab drivers here feel that they shouldn't drive when the door is open, so he obliged me and pulled over.

After darting across lanes of freeway, we made it to the restaurant and meet the rest of our party. This place had the feel of a more casual Earls. The food wasn't very good, but because one of our companions had a special discount card, everything was buy one get the second free. It even applied to the pitchers of beer. A nice night was had by all. All told, the evening with return cab rides, two entrees (we both got hamburgers), an appetizer (Mongolian spring rolls), and around a pitcher of beer each only cost about $55Cdn.

Another Week, Another Grand Parade for the Glorious Republic of Mexico!

Good Afternoon all,

Today Caroline and I are enjoying a well earned weekend with a shortened week ahead of us due to Mexican Independence Day; which reminds me, I really must find out how that all came about. When I think of Canada's independence, I think of a very responsible yet socially awkward teenager who had to be encouraged to leave the safe confines of the United Kingdom by its British parents and into the scary independent world of the commonwealth with some not so subtle badgering. For us, it was about growing up and becoming our own country. The United States; they were our fitful older sibling who ran away from home for the circus at sixteen and dinner conversation at the G8 has ALWAYS been awkward ever since. Canada thinks to itself, "Damn it U.S. why can't you at least be polite in front of mom and stop bragging about all your ne'er to well conquests with the poor neighborhood children down the street like Guatemala and Panama." The U.K. just puts on that very stoic parental voice of resigned indulgence, and even lets the U.S. borrow the car for their big adventure in Iraq. This is how I see the world (kinda). So Mexico, maybe just slipped away when nobody was looking.

Of course I know this isn't true because at school today I attended an assembly. In this particular school at this particular time of year, assemblies are more like ceremonies for patriotism (Samuel Johnson's words have never rung truer); but besides all of that, we listened to some very nice anthems, stood for a little while, and then I tried to salvage what was left of first period. Most of the students in my home room had somewhat prominent positions in the ceremonies, so I was quite proud.

Teaching so far has been going reasonably well. I'm still suffering from the first year first term anxieties, and grammar remains a milestone about my neck. Nevertheless, I'm getting along well with the kids and everything is going pretty smoothly. U.N. club is starting to kick into high gear, and I have learned A voluminous amount about the U.N. simulation this week from my students and from other teachers.

As for this weekend, Friday we vegged in front of the television and chatted a bit with our neighbor from downstairs. I should probably more accurately say vented about school and life. Today, well I'm typing this little post and tidying about the house a bit. We also intend to go out to dinner with some of our teacher friends. Sadly, it has been referred to as a girls' night out + me, because almost all of the teachers at our school are women. I don't mind it; we all clearly have a lot in common; nevertheless, being the one guy in an all girl get-together seems a little odd. Maybe I'll get back to watching that "Full House" marathon on cable in an act of self-deception with regards to the normality of offset gender combinations; or maybe I'll just have a scotch. Well, must get to the school to take advantage of all the free photocopying. Our next post will be a tribute to the festivities of Mexican Independence Day; wherein, according the boyfriend of one of our colleagues, the streets run with tequila. hmmm.

vaya le bien!

Illnesses

Last weekend I was sick. Like death-sick. My head was killing me, and the pharmacists just laughed at me. It sucked, but I obviously pulled through. It does seem to be flu-season here though; since the weather cooled off in the last two weeks or so, many kids have been away, or needed to see the nurse during the day. I cannot comment if there have been two cases of H1N1 at the school already...

The last week was really busy. The after-school clubs started up, so we began our obligatory pennance. I'm doing the grade 5-6 UN club. There's no outline, no clear boss, no clear direction. The only thing I know for sure is that the kids have to win some competition later this year (and no, nobody has been able to tell me what one). Because I'm heading the club with another Canadian teacher, we are able to supervise 60 kids. We decided that 50 would be easier to manage. Instead, whomever was in charge of signing up the kids (apparently nobody -- it's not clear to me) just kept letting the kids sign up. We have 80-ish on paper. We aren't allowed to tell anyone that they're cut from the club without just reason (like discipline...acutally, that's pretty much it). So we're stuck with 65 kids (the ones that actually come) for one hour twice a week. It's not much time to do anything, at least.

Between walking everywhere, a lack of kitchen implements, and the inability to locate anything in the grocery stores (seriously, these people have freeze-dried shrimp (I think they're shrimp) in the baking aisle, but God help you if you need to find chocolate chips), both Andrew and I have shedded some weight. The downside is that I crave baked goods that I cannot make/get. The food situation is frustrating, to say the least. I have found out that nobody makes food from scratch here. The wealthy like ready-made stuff, the poor live hand-to-mouth every day, so where does that leave me? Sitting on the couch, watching Terminator 2 with a bowl of cookie dough I made on a Saturday afternoon...

Down at the Ranch

Good evening all,

Again I must apologize for the infrequency of our latest entries; being an English teacher is a lot more work than the Robin Williams made it seem! Last weekend was a real thrill as we were invited to birthday party at the ranch of a friend of a friend. In any case, one of Caroline's colleague's and her boyfriend drove us out to what they called a ranch; ahh the loss in translation continues. What we arrived at was what I would best describe as a bit of a chateau on the prairie so to speak. A very nice cottage with a large yard, pool, and patio. Moreover, by "small get together", our friends meant a party that would swell to what I would estimate at about 70 people. The beer, meat, and conversation flew communally as we were afforded the opportunity of some informal Spanish lessons, and I observed the delicate blend of Caroline's outgoing army niceties with some truly genuine Mexican hospitality. An excellent time was had by all, and Caroline's home made cookies were a big hit (the bag was empty in minutes).
Caroline and I couldn't help but notice how "dolled" up the female guests were, and how precariously uncomfortable they looked all evening. It seems that three inch heels and spandex jeans are the unofficial uniform of the twenty-something well to do Mexican debutante. The men, on the other hand, were quite care-free, and the scene around the soccer game on TV was just like a Canadian sports bar around the NHL playoffs. We retired in the early hours of the morning, and worked like mad the rest of the weekend to be prepared for Monday.
The rainy season has begun here in Northern Mexico, and a few times a week we are entertained by a truly stunning thunder storm that leaves the streets flooded. Aside from watching the rain outside my window, my weekday evening are usually spent toiling at lessons and marking. Nevertheless, I enjoy the work, and am still glad we left Canada for a spell. Both Caroline and I have entered the full swing of our U.N. club duties, but with very disparate challenges. My club is group of highly motivated, high achieving students with the prospect of competitive private high school life looming above them. They generally plan many of their own activities, and their idea of the club is somewhat of an extension to their already taxing academic studies. Caroline has more of a creative challenge of how to introduce and engage about 50 ten-year-olds into the complex world of the United Nations. It makes the days long, and occasionally rewarding.
Hopefully this weekend, we'll have some new adventures to write about, until then, I must hearken to the Siren call of my lesson planning book.