Closing Time

I just got back from a very demanding and ambitious road trip through many parts of Mexico. One of the regions I visited was the land of the Maya. To attempt to fit my feelings about this place in one blog entry would be a severe injustice. I look forward to sorting my thoughts about my trip, and sharing them in the near future. Now, I am planning adding closure to my Fulbright experience in Mexico City. I am happy to be leaving. I am excited about returning to Los Angeles, to see my family and to be in California again. I will surely miss Mexico City, its people and all the small things that make this place extremely unique. Gracias Mexico for a great 10 months.

We Say Goodbye, You Say Hello

Dear Chaps & Flapper Gals,

¨You say goodbye and we say hello, hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, we say hello, hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, we say hello...¨ (The Beatles, Hello Goodbye).

All ¨good¨ things must come to an end, (or do they?).

The time has come for us (Dario, Jeff, & Edu) to say gracias & goodbye to this beautiful and friendly country.

But beyond the Aztec pyramids, the Mayan ruins, and the colonial zocalos, we want to especially bid farewell to all of U who made our experience in this country and city that much richer with your amistad, laughter & company. We will miss each and every one of you.

At the end of the day, it all boils down to the individual people that made our
experience in Mexico so memorable.

In light of our departure, we want to cordially invite you to raise a glass,
chalice, or bottle this Friday night in Lomas, and join us in a toast to a very good Fulbright-IIE year!

We are all on our way out, and would greatly appreciate your company for one last night in Mexico City. ¨One more time...¨

We are especially grateful to our host, Homero F (our friend & classmate from ITAM Business School) for his hospitality for this going away fiesta!

What: Roaring 20s Fiesta, sorta
(flapper girls are extremely welcome!)(no worries, costumes are encouraged but will not be enforced) (we mainly want to see you and have a drink on our last night in La Gran Tenochtitlan!)

When: THIS Friday, June 24th 9:30pm-?, BYOB

Where: Cerrada de Bezares, Lomas de Bezares

Why: Hello Goodbye
¨It's a pretty good crowd for a Friday,
And the Ambassador gives us a smile
'Cause he knows that it´s us they've been coming to see
To forget about life for a while.
And the piano sounds like a carnival
And the microphone smells like a beer
And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar
And say "Man, what are you guys doin' here?"
Da da da de de da
da da de de da da da
Sing us a song, you're the piano man
Sing us a song tonight.
Well, we're all in the mood for a melody
And you've got us feelin' alright.¨
(Billy Joel, The Piano Man).

Who: U and your Crew
How: mellow kickback (B.Y.O.B.)

With that said, Dario, Jeff & I hope to see you on Friday night...to toast the
night...the weekend...the month...the year... away...

ps. Fulbrighters, Halfbrighters, P&Gers, FIMEDERers, SOLCARGOers, ITAMers, AT&Ters....and GIRLS especially welcome!

!!Jumping jiving!!

!!Viva Mexico!!

Cheers,

Jeff B
Edu R
Homero F
Dario O

Puebla de los Angeles

A couple weeks ago, I took a roadtrip with Mary, a fellow Fulbrighter from Oregon. Mary is cool for many reasons, but our initial connection was that her grandmother is from East LA, my neck of the woods. So we decide to embark on a short weekend trip to Puebla de los Angeles, better known as Puebla, in the state of, yes, Puebla. We arrived with very reserved expectations, mainly concerned with exiting Mexico City. I had driven by Puebla on two occasions, but both visits were very abrupt and did not do this lovely colonial jewel of a city any justice. I would pump some gas, or buy some pan dulce from El Globo, and get back on the highway. But this would change on my 3rd opportunity. And Puebla would really deliver the third time around.

For starters, the weather in Puebla was a nice change from the very smoggy Distrito Federal. As Mary and I drove into the historic center, we were suddenly surrounded by incredible colonial architecture, stunningly lit church towers, and an emerald urban garden in the Zocalo. Our first drive around the Zocalo inspired us to park the Turq, my Honda Accord coupe, as soon as possible to give us the opportunity to walk around and enjoy a Friday evening stroll around the city. It seemed as if everyone and their mom was out walking through the Zocalo, shopping, and eating on the street. Mary and I quickly realized that some ice cream was in order. As we ordered ice cream from the female version of the Seinfeld sitcom inspired soup nazi, we realized we had made the right decision in coming to Puebla, and that the remaining attractions were going to be a treat.

People in Puebla were extremely nice and super helpful. Puebla is a very safe city by all standards, despite its 1 million plus population. We stayed at the Hotel La Fuente, a yellow three story colonial structure on Eje 3 Poniente. The manager really lived up to any 4 star hotel standard by way of his modesty, and plain old niceness.

The following day we enjoyed a Spanish play, whose main audience included local high school students. The play was enjoyable and for a matinee performance, the cast gave it 110%. Despite the often rowdy high school crowd, Mary and I each enjoyed a bag of peanut M&Ms accompanied by a cold bottle of the local water provider.

We visited various museums, including the Museo Amparo. This museum had an amazing combination of contemporary artwork, archeological jewels, and a worthy collection of colonial era artifacts. (http://www.museoamparo.com/indexi.html) Do yourself a favor and visit this museum, and don´t forget to bring a copy of The Economist as you enjoy one of the many interior colonial courtyards, flanked by amazing sculptures and performance art pieces.

I would be worthy of some form of cruel and unusual punishment if I failed to mention that we also ate the Fonda de Santa Clara, arguably the best site for those seeking the best of mole, Puebla´s unique contribution to the culinary world. And boy, did this restaurant deliver amazing mole! Check out this website for a history of mole and a recap of Puebla history. http://www.fondadesantaclara.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=4

In short, the Puebla weekend escapade was one of the best I have taken in Mexico. What is most amazing is that Puebla is only about 1.5 hours from Mexico City. Despite its close proximity, the city of Puebla is a world away from the megalopolis that is Mexico City. Puebla´s live music scene and very alive night life, make this colonial city a must visit for any traveler looking for a colonial escape to the past.

The Pupule Bridge

Okay kids, so basically the Pupule Luau was a great sucess. We had incredible weather in Cuernavaca, already known around the world as the city of the Eternal Spring. The pool was heated very nicely, the trampoline launched many of us into different orbits, and the various wooden swings hanging from trees were a nice escape from the hustle and bustle of Mexico City, the biggest city in the world. To add to this already good recipe for a summer luau, Patrick´s house assistant, Mari, really stepped up to the plate. She literally said to us, just give me the ingredientes and I will perform a one-woman Iron Chef competition. There is no need to beat around the bush, or to even be modest about this woman´s culinary skills. She delivered an incredible paella with ribs, shrimp, seafood, and chicken. Before the paella was ready, she even prepared some salmon & cheese rolls for the 70 plus crowd of hungry hungry Hawaiians. The Pupule Luau was the bridge to summer 2005, and for those of us that crossed it, we are now marinated enough to survive the summer sizzle that awaits us! Aloha to all! Cheers!

The Pupule Luau - Cuerna

Aloha to all you akamai (smart, intelligent) people living in Mexico City!
If you received this e'mail, you have been exclusively and cordially invited to actively partake in a centuries-old Hawaiian-Luau kahiko (tradition) this upcoming Sabado Tarde 11 de Junio in the land of the eternal primavera - none other than lani (heavenly) CUERNAVACA!!

We will have a heated pool, jacuzzi and trampoline ready for all you wahines (girls) and kanes (boys)!

In addition, there will be a lot of kau kau (grub = bbq style) for all you paniolos (cowboys) & malihinis (visitors)!

Guests are strongly encouraged to fully embrace the Hawaiian tradition in Cuerna this June 11th!!

Mahalo (thank you) in advance to our kahuna, Patrick V, for his ho´okipa (hospitality) as we holoholo (travel) and descend onto Cuerna for this essential summer ritual!

During his Stanford-Palo Alto years, Patrick diligently studied and perfected his understanding of the makahiki (ancient hawaiian celebration of life)! So, we are definitely in good hands...!

Wikiwiki (quickly) reply if interested in joining us for your introduction to Summer 2005 to receive the followup e'mail with more logistical information...regarding housing, transportation, etc. We are tentatively asking for a kala $ contribution of 100 pesos for the kau kau! Drinks will be provided but BYOB is always encouraged!

We hope you can jump on this Endless Summer bandwagon and help make this luau as pupule (crazy) as kanaka (humanly) possible!!

What: Pupule Luau
When: Sabado June 11th 4pm-?
Where: Patrick´s Casa en Cuernavaca
Who: U
Why: No mames! Embrace tu mexican verano...

Your kolohe (rascal) coordinator,

EDU

All Oysters Should Have Pearls

¨All Oysters Should Have Pearls¨
A short story by Abe Rivas

He had eyes that were complemented by the luminosity of an electric lamp
into dark green, straight black hair and he wore a hat just the way
the baseball pitchers wore it; just like Gagne, nice and old and down
- all the way down. He was tall, yet short, a mixture of both, and he
wore ripped jeans with a green-purple collar shirt. He sat straight
waiting at a bus stop pretending to smoke a Camel cigarette the way
movie stars did it; only he knew it was wrong to do so, hence he
simulated with a black pen.

Then, as if he had realized the secret to everybody’s life were in
the scriptures, he decided to walk instead of wait.

Groggily he ambulated on the paved sidewalk as if he were walking on
a wire in a circus. He walked in a kind of sadness that became
depression once something could be read, and in his case it was a
letter. He reached into his coat pocket, the coat of which he was
holding on his right hand, and took out a crumbled letter. A crumbled
paper that if it could have been human; would have seemed as if it had
been through countless removal surgeries, awful surgeries and plastic
ones too, given that it also seemed as if the owner of the paper had
taken the time to mend whatever damage that had been committed to it.
He put his coat on and reread out softly for the thirty third and
half time, roughly whispering to himself, the letter:

ILLINOIS, CHICAGO

March 7, 2004

Dear Agustin,

Out east it’s nice and cold. Consider yourself lucky you’re out there
west, ‘cause it’s a cold, dreary, depressing and windy city, Chicago.
Man I miss the city of angels; I miss them angels, the way we used to
look at them as we walked old elmo. (Is old elmo still breathing? If
you walk it; walk it with a stick will you?) Take a picture of them
angels, the city that is, from the Apricot hills, right there where
we used to walk old elmo in the night, right where we would wait for
it to do its dung business looking at the angels – right then and
there would you?

Man this here place is miserable. I sent a post card of Navy Pier and
I tell you its nothing like in the picture. If you just look down -
right where the ocean meets the land - man all you see are a whole
lot of oysters without pearls. All oysters should have their pearls
you know that. And that big-blue-red sign right in front of the pier,
the one that announces it or whatever, man that thing doesn’t even
work and it has all this bird crap on it that pigeons leave on it; I
tell you if I were the owner Id take that sign down with my own hands.

I shouldn’t have come to this here university; all we do is read and
analyze, read and analyze and then we do mathematics then mathematics
and over and over. Mathematics, I mean at least reading is worth
something but math, man I aint gonna be a mathematician or some
scientist its pointless.

Well anyways, I hear you´re not doing to good at all yourself, that you
have some ideas of your own. Look I’m sorry if the news struck you
too hard but it’s bound to happen to everybody old Agu. Besides TB
won’t beat me, my white cells are high-quality and I aint leaving;
allright.

I promise once I get back, we´ll go down Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood
and we´ll walk all over them golden stars just the way we planned. And
even if the movie stars´ are there looking at us; we´ll step on them
while they look at us; just the way we planned old Agu.

This here pen is running out of in…….

I had to lick it about a thousand times before it started writing
again old Agu. We´ll do it though, all that Sunset stuff. I don’t have
another pen, I’m running low on cash; don’t tell mama though. Take
the picture will you? And send it.

With Sincerity,

RUDOLFO GRAIN.

P.S: I’ve written a couple letters already and you don’t seem to
respond. It’s a bore and windy over here, please do write. Well do
all that stuff we planned on Sunset when I get back. Don’t worry
about the TB old Agu my white cells are high-quality.

Love,

RUDOLFO GRAIN.

Agustin Grain reread the letter a couple more times roughly
whispering to himself. His brother had died of Tuberculosis around
three weeks back and he felt it. He placed the crumbled letter into
his coat pocket and walked a little faster though still groggily.

As he was arriving to his home where almost surely there would be a
quarrel or discussion awaiting, he grabbed a pebble and threw it
right into the sewage; he missed.

Today is it, thought Agustin, walking slowly on a wire in a circus.
He doesn’t know what happened to me when it happened. He doesn’t. But
I´ll tell him about what we were gonna do. I´ll ask him if he wants to
go to his funeral and how that’s his funeral for me; the day I go on
Sunset and do what we had planned. I´ll tell him what he told me and
I´ll tell him that the TB didn’t kill him, but that it was that filthy
place he was forced to go to and I´ll tell him everything. I´ll tell
him how I wrote back two days before he stopped breathing and how I
took the picture on them hills right when elmo was doing his
business… just the way he asked…he began to run; still on that
wire…I´ll tell him about me going to my private archipelago and how
there will be palm trees and coconuts and oysters with their pearls the
way they should be. And how around there we all will be like liars
that will always tell the truth and how we´ll all look the same and
how around there we´ll all play the guitar and how them oysters; all
of them will have their pearls the way they should. I´ll tell him
everything.

Agustin stood there on the driveway. He took his pen from his mouth
and placed it in his pocket, took off his hat; stroked his hair back a
couple times, fixed his collar and untucked his shirt, and then he
walked in. His father, whom was waiting for him in the kitchen,
called him over and told him to sit down on the nice cushioned seat.

“We incinerated him. You need to realize…..” and so the discussion
began with those wistful words of his father.

It seemed to have lasted hours for Agustin but in reality it lasted
just about thirty two minutes. Agustin managed to include a couple
words to support himself.

“I feel plainly awful that he’s gone but I learned to forget, you
have to forget too Agustin. It was bound to happen,” his father
stated as he smoked a Havana.

“This is the fourth time they’ve caught you on those damn hills with
that filthy dog!” said Mr. Grain without sympathy.

Agustin sat on the royal seat looking down, counting the squares on
the tile floor; then plainly and tiredly he looked up “I’m tired” he
said.

“Well everybody’s tired of something Agustin! Everybody is,” his
father responded looking into his son’s dark green eyes.

“I’m tired” said Agustin very plainly. These words were all he managed
to include.

He stood up and grabbed a sweater. He left to Sunset Boulevard; as planned.

It was cold for the west side that night, just about fifty degrees
and Agustin shivered dourly. As he walked down Sunset Boulevard in
Hollywood he spoke to himself very quietly- the kind of quiet that is
felt in a funeral. His teeth chattering and both hands rubbing
against each others skin he mumbled with tears coming to his eyes,
“I’m sorry old bud…but…you´re here, you’re here with me…you’re here…
I’m gonna…put all those pearls…where they belong…all those
pearls…where they belong” he repeated over and again.

Please feel free to comment on Abe Rivas´s short story. Thank you.

Chistes de Abogados

Hey, I recently came across a list of Mexican jokes regarding lawyers. I thought it would be interesting for those of you who read Spanish to see how the social distaste for lawyers is not restricted to the U.S., and that in fact it may be a global phenomenon.

Some of the jokes at the end may even apply to members of other professions. For those of you that have yet to view the film ¨Office Space¨ starring Jennifer Aniston, you should really check it out. It accurately documents the social and psychological anxiety that modern day working environments create among the middle management employees of our time!

¿Por qué las pirañas no se comen a los abogados?
Por respeto profesional
**********
Un respetable profesor de Derecho le dice a sus alumnos:
-Recuerden muchachos, lo mas importante cuando se es abogado es saber que algunos casos se ganan y otros se pierden, pero en todos se cobra.
**********
Durante una audiencia en el juzgado se genera una disputa y el fiscal le grita al abogado defensor:
-Usted es un ladrón. El defensor le contesta al fiscal:
-Y usted es un vendido. Luego el juez dice:
-Ya que las partes se han identificado correctamente, sigamos con la audiencia...
**********
Un campesino pasa frente a una lápida que dice: "Aquí yace un abogado, un hombre honrado, un hombre integro".
El campesino se persigna y dice asustado: -Virgen santísima,
enterraron a tres hombres en la misma fosa!
**********
Llega un hombre al infierno y comienza a entrevistarse con Lucifer.
Después de una larga sesión él le indica que su castigo es pasar la eternidad con una gorda bien fea. El hombre indignado acepta y cuando lo llevan con la gorda se cruza con su abogado, quien está con una hermosa mujer. El hombre le pregunta al diablo:
- ¿Porqué mi abogado a pesar de haberme robado a mí y a varias personas ahora está con una mujer tan buena y bella? El diablo le contesta:
Tú calla y deja de juzgar a esa pobre mujer.
**********
¿En qué se parecen los abogados a las prostitutas?
En que cobran por adelantado y después no se mueven.
**********
Se encontraba Moisés leyendo a su pueblo los mandamientos:
- Noveno mandamiento: no desear la mujer del prójimo.
A lo cual se oye la protesta general del pueblo. Moisés aclara:
- Eso dice la ley, esperemos a ver qué dice la jurisprudencia.
**********
Se encuentran dos amigos y uno le dice al otro:
- Me separé de mi esposa
- No me digas, ¿Y como le hicieron?
- Con un abogado, él nos ayudo a realizar la repartición de los bienes.
- ¿Y tus hijos?
- Muy fácil, decidimos que el que se quedara con más dinero se quedaba con los niños.
- ¿Y quien quedó con ellos?
- El abogado ....
**********
Método del gato para determinar la clase de abogado con que negocia: Coloque un gato sobre el escritorio. Si el gato sale corriendo, ese abogado es muy perro. En cambio, si el gato se lanza al abogado es porque es una rata.
**********
Un abogado trata de defender a su cliente acusado de bigamia y le dice al juez:
- Efectivamente, señor Juez, mi representado es bígamo. Pero,
¿Acaso no es suficiente castigo el tener que soportar a dos suegras a la vez?...
**********
Un abogado tomaba el sol en un parque, cuando se le acerca un médico y le pregunta:
- ¿Qué hace?
- Aquí robándole unos rayitos al sol.
- Como siempre, trabajando a toda hora ¿no?
**********
Cárcel O TRABAJO
Qué PREFIERES?
Usted no puede compararse con un delincuente. Usted es un hombre o mujer honrado/a y, con su duro esfuerzo cotidiano, alimenta su familia y colabora en el crecimiento de su país. Por ello, existen grandes diferencias entre una celda de prisión y su oficina que, a fin de que valore las ventajas de la vida sacrificada y laboriosa, se las recordamos una vez más:

1) En la prisión pasas la mayor parte del tiempo en una celda de 3 x 2,5 metros; En el trabajo, pasas la mayor parte del tiempo en un CUBICULO de 1,5 x 2 metros.
2) En la prisión la celda tiene una ventana pequeña al exterior y ventilación natural. En el trabajo, los CUBICULOS no tienen ventanas al exterior y la ventilación no existe. O es congelante.
3) En la prisión te dan tres comidas al día (gratis); en el trabajo, tienes 40 minutos para salir a comer, pagas por ello y es peor que la de la prisión.
4) En la prisión nadie te molesta porque fumes; En el trabajo, si fumas te declaran inadaptado social.
5) En la prisión la pena se acorta por buen comportamiento; En el trabajo, si te comportas bien te premian con más trabajo...
6)En la prisión nadie te molesta porque veas TV o leas un libro; En el trabajo, si te descubren viendo TV o leyendo un libro, te despiden.
7) En la prisión permiten que tu familia y amigos te visiten; En el trabajo, ni siquiera puedes hablar con ellos por teléfono.
8) En la prisión haces ejercicio todos los días, caminas por el patio y practicas deportes; En el trabajo no levantas la cabeza del escritorio, tu espalda es un nudo y la escoliosis severa te impide pararte derecho.
9) En la prisión tus gastos los pagan los contribuyentes y nadie te obliga a trabajar; En el trabajo, tienes que pagar todos los gastos por ir a trabajar, y además te deducen impuestos con los que pagan los gastos de los encarcelados.
10) En la prisión los guarda-cárceles por lo general son unos sucios; choriceros. En el trabajo También y los llaman Gerentes.

Estupendo!, listos para vivir una jornada más de gloriosa actividad en la oficina.
Y recuerde: en pocos minutos más y mientras usted se desloma bajo una pila de papeles, en la cárcel los sufridos presos empezarán a jugar un partido de fútbol? en el patio. Y ahora, que disfrute de su trabajo!

The Villaraigosa Factor: East LA Pride

As many of you know, my hometown has recently elected its first Latino mayor in over 100 years. For those that don't know, Los Angeles is the 2nd city with the most Mexicans after Mexico City!

Antonio Villaraigosa is now on the cover of Newsweek and some of the articles are quite impressive.

The first picture is of the famous corner of Avenida Cesar Chavez (previously known as Brooklyn Avenue) and Soto Street in the heart of East Los Angeles. I grew up one block away from this street corner on Cincinnati Street! Importantly, once I turned 4 my family relocated to City Terrace where my parents purchased their 1st home on Van Pelt Avenue.

FYI. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7937184/site/newsweek/
Enjoy.