Well, it is you and me again. Hello. It is so nice to see you, seeing me and all. I mean, what does it take to make us connect: a bottle of words; a wireless connection (pirated for good measure); the mystery of the internet; blogspot; emails; morbid curiosity; the desire to be creative, and so forth. We come together through waves, wires, and wonder.
Week two has been a quick one. It started, and I took this big breath, like, "Okay. Here we go. This is no longer a cute vacation. This is your job now, please enjoy." And to be honest, for the most part, this week was super enjoyable. The classes went well. I made headway with young minds and their knowledge. My classroom is a goddamn explosion of creative personal flags, suspended fluttering photos of baby students, and posters of quotes and people that I like; for five days a week, from 7-3, it feels about as homey as institutional uniformity will allow.
I have spent the last three afternoons in Parque Mexico. I have gotten home from work, thought about sleeping, grading, or planning, and then opted to load the dogs up and go to the park for a few hours. Every day has proven to be perfect. I have figured out my root there, and have found a sweet little pocket, where through the grace of some god somewhere, I find a parking spot within walking distance to the park. The drive has been exciting, a taste of home, and a release. Driving here is a big whirlwind, where you can basically do what you need to do, to get where you need to go, and although you may cut someone off, they may honk, you may stop out of nowhere...it is all accepted and the beat moves on. Its a great release of stress, surprisingly. You are sort of on this offense/defense mentality, and in the end, if you are comfortable with your car and how it moves, you can have a damn good time. But I digress, back to the park.
Tuesday, it was raining; what do I care? The dogs like the water and I own a rain jacket and flip flops. I arrived to no dogs and the slight misting of the ground. I hung around only to meet another wandering soul, Julia the Catalan and her Jack Russel, Lucio the Spiritual. She moved to D.F. 12 years ago for a 6 month trip...she never left. She is a hippy sort, but not the hollow type that has goofy jewelry, hangs out in trees, and dangles organic teabags from their armpit undergrowth. She is a hippy in the sense, that she has a crooked smile and it works, because she hasn't lacquered her face in various ointments and remedies. She is a hippy, because she sheepishly smiles when she says she is a graphic designer and she has some paintings up in restaurant near by. She has to be around 40 or so, perhaps younger and her natural hippyness makes her look older. She brings laser beams for Lucio to chase, and she calls commands in Catalan and Spanish. The dogs have been without a doubt, my greatest liaison to people who speak Spanish and people who have nothing to do with ASF; this fact, has only deepened my love for them.
Wednesday was nicer. School ended at 12:15, but professional development made a long haul to 3:45. The park was at the forefront of my mind. I took 1984 to read, and headed out. Parking, once again, was satisfyingly available. Parked; Walked; Released the hounds; Found a bench and sat down. Chops, as previously mentioned, is a legend in the making. Everyone wants to know about him. So, Irish Wolfhound = Lobero Irlandes. Great Pyrenees = Gigante de Pirineo. Raza = Breed. In any event, a curious young lady by the name of Vanessa, began to inquire. I stopped reading, and started running through the vocabulary I have picked up around this topic. She sits down. We stop talking about dogs and start talking about me. What do I do? Where did I come from? Where do I live? How long am I here? What's your number? Do you want to go out sometime? WHAT!?!?! From what I have gathered, the Mexican women are go getters...and in my book, that is alright with me. In fact that is just grand. So I gave Vanessa my number, and we shall see. She quickly changed from getting together with the dogs, to going to la cine. She was cute and spunky. Not totally my type, but at this point I am just embracing the flow of life. I have met more people in the last two weeks, than I had in the last two years of living in Santa Cruz. Now that is not to say quantity outweighs quality, because in Santa Cruz, I got to know and love some truly amazing people (you know who you are, you silly little sweet spirits), but it is a trip to meet all these new faces and revel in the possibilities. Vanessa, got my number and left. Julia and a dude from Uruguay rolled through. We talked again. Julia was flashing the laser beam for Lucio and he was disappearing in a flurry of Catalan gallops. Then, a true Lobero Irlandes came through the park, by the name of, Lupito. I have seen this dog countless times around the city...not just the park. This fucker is BIG! He strolls up to Chops, and I tell you, Chops looks average, minuscule, regular-run-of-the-mill puppy. Lupito, belongs to an old long haired grizzly faced man. He seems jolly and smells of the sweet herbs, the man, not the dog. The dogs play, and the Spanish flows forth.
Julia and I departed the park at the same time. We walked and talked, she said there were good art classes near by. I think I shall inquire further about this, and see if I can get in. We kept walking, and I realized we were not diverging paths. I made the comment, "Just so you are not worried, I am not following you home, but my car is this way." She cracked the goofy hippy smile, and said, "No, it is fine El-lee-oat, you can walk me home." Awkward yet amusing laughter followed. We hit the round about, and I pointed to my car, and she pointed to her street; We split up, I stubbed my toe, and went home. Currently Beck's "Odelay" has been in my car for a week, and I don't see an end in sight.
Today, Thursday, Park again. Headed over. Sat and read my book, though I never really read, because I am too enamored in the world of dogs and people; the park is prime for watching both. So I sit and observe, and in between lulls I read quick rips of 1984. From behind me, "Hello El-lee-oat." I turn, "Hola Julia Catalan y Lucio el Spear-eh-two-al." We chop it up about the book. She checks it out for a comparison to the Spanish version. She hangs tight for a minute and then announces that she needs to leave. I tell her that I am going to go check out her art next week, possibly with one of my fellow teachers. By the way, my fellow teacher in reference, Tess Wheelwright (affectionaly dubbed "Make'em Feelright") is awesome. She is a writer and an artist. She is going to critique my paintings and I am going to critique her writing. She is going to introduce me to people from another realm of life...a non ASF life. We are also co-sponsoring the Literary Magazine at the High School. Good people. Back to the park: Julia says, "well perhaps I can take you to lunch at the restaurant where my art is." Perhaps. She asks, "do you have time for lunch during the week?". I reply, "Unfortunately, no. I could do dinner." She retorts, "Unfortunately it is expensive for dinner, but we could do that if you like?" I concur, "Yes, I could do that, or we could do it on the weekend." We exchange numbers. She spells her name, I spell mine, and now we both have digital records that the other person exists outside of this park. She leans in, as is customary here, and we do the side cheek kiss and the "Hasta luego/Nos vemos" exchange. I feel like an awkward American. She shouts, "You have to bring three of your paintings, so I am not the only one showing their stuff". I feel good about the paintings I have, and I think that will be just fine.
So that is that. Three days at the park, and two opportunities to hang out with someone from a completely different reality. Who knows what the romantic implications are. Vanessa, she was on the hunt. But Julia, Julia I just think is a life tripper, someone who enjoys a bit of the random. So it goes, and so I go.
TOMORROW: I do not teach. NO! Tomorrow I load a bus with all of the new students in the Upper School. We load and we ride north east to Veracruz. The new students are going on a retreat and I, and several other fine young teachers, are the god-sent chaperons. I left my sub plans and I am heading out. Sarah, the most awesome neighbor next to The Klines, well actually, you can't really compare the Klines, because they are on another level of awesomeness...regardless, Sarah, who is cool in her own right, is going to watch my dogs for me. I am going to find it hard to leave them, but I need to get over it, quit being super attached, and I know it is going to be a blast. Three square meals a day, a hotel room, river rafting, zip lining, and life.
To the ramshackle in us all.
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