The future of work

"We live in an information society, driven by knowledge in action.... [Services] can be provided via the information highways from anywhere, even from the other side of the globe.... We are in a New World." (professor of international employment law, Roger Blanpain, The World of Work in the 21st Century: Challenges and Opportunities - paper presented at Oxford, October 2008).

Globalizing, down-sizing, online everywhere 24/7. Sometimes I just want to crawl under the covers with a good old-fashioned printed-on-paper book when I hear these terms. But there's a big shiny upside that I'm taking advantage of... telecommuting or to use a term I just found, being a digital nomad. And not just from my couch in SF (though I happen to have been doing a lot of that), but starting in a couple weeks, from a friend's couch in back in Mexico. Yup, will wanderlust never cease.

Over Thanksgiving I ran into the brother of a good friend who recently escaped the Marin bubble and moved his family to Barcelona where he's running his online start-up. His exec team is still in California and his developers are in India (what's new). Another acquaintance, Barak Kassar, did the same thing last year, also relocating his family to Barcelona (funny coincidence) while continuing to run his brand marketing business in the US. Another friend in San Miguel runs his company in San Jose virtually. The list goes on.

There are tremendous benefits for companies and clients willing to accommodate remote workers - time-shifting, low overhead, flexibility, and ultimately, happier colleagues. Benefits for telecommuters... for my friends, they can expose their kids to new cultural experiences for longer than a 2-week vacation; for me, I can spend real time with friends I've made around the world, but more importantly, my clients benefit from fresher ideas inspired by provocative surroundings.

There are challenges; there are potential international employment issues to deal with and one begins to miss the face-to-face -- although the robotics developer, Willow Garage, is solving that issue. And if your broadband goes down, well... at least there's something interesting to explore just outside the front door.

Inspiring

There is nothing better in my opinion for creative stimulation of any kind than to wander around SFMOMA (or any modern art museum or gallery for that matter). Taking a mental break to see what other creative minds dream up, outside of your current media or mind space, is enormously energizing. It should be mandatory in any company.

Finding the balance point

This being a blog about my travel experiences, I was going to write something about the wonderful sail I had yesterday (a short journey but a great experience nonetheless). However two articles I read this morning struck a chord worth commenting on - Maureen Dowd's column on the plight of Catholic nuns and Joanne Lipman's op-ed piece on the Mismeasure of Woman. They tie into sailing... you'll see.

Like Lipman, I never felt a connection with the "strident, humorless, shrill women" I perceived as part of the women's lib movement that came before me. I believed that I was fortunate to belong to an era that progressed beyond that. In fact, in my experience the issue of men vs women in the workplace was a non-issue. Nor did I think about it much in other areas of my life. I always believed, still do, that men and women are different - we each bring different talents, capabilities and sensitivities to the table. One individual may outperform another, but gender in and of itself was never the factor that predetermined the dominant player.

Of course I was lucky in my experience - I know that now much more so than I did in my 20s or 30s. Recently traveling and living in foreign cultures makes that clearly apparent. I respect the complexity of cultural traditions, but that doesn't make it easier to accept that in some countries I can't have access to an experience or event just because I'm not a man. I still want to believe though that here in the US we've achieved fair access. Dowd's and Lipman's articles point out that we still have quite a ways to go, and in fact might be moving in the wrong direction.

It's disconcerting to feel that as a culture, we in the US could be moving backward when it comes to our perspective on gender. It's especially worrisome as I maneuver back into the workforce after a year off. Frankly I'd still be shocked if I ran into even subtle gender bias, but I wonder now if I'd be surprised.

So, what's my ideal? Yesterday I went sailing with my good friend friend Liam. We easily traded places at the helm or trimming the sails, making requests depending on who had control of what. We had a great day and got where we were going easily, something we couldn't have done without relying on each other's skills. But the best analogy... when the sails were trimmed just right with the wind, the boat steered itself. Those two very different things working together achieved the perfect balance and kept us going in the right direction.

While waiting for client feedback

I'm not a big fan of the home office idea. I don't mind being independent, I'm quite good at it. But soloing without a soul around, except on email, isn't really my favorite work style. And my house is so small that I pretty much end up in one chair from a.m. coffee to p.m. cabernet.

But there is one thing I love - the productivity! I no longer have to cram all my chores and home projects into a weekend. Today while waiting for client feedback and approvals on a couple projects, I ripped out an old agapanthus that was threatening to one day prevent me from reaching my front door. For those of you sensitive to killing "old growth" anything, I apologized before whacking it to pieces and even saved a bunch of stalks for planting somewhere else (or selling on the street corner for bus fare).

I now have a nice potted olive tree in that corner, a proud blister on my palm and I was even right at hand for a client call (albeit a bit sore and muddy). Not so bad I guess.

Music is the glue

First off, yes, I'm back in San Francisco. I won't go into the transition I'm still going through and what it's like to be back after a year of living abroad. Call me and I'll tell you all about it (and it changes every day).

Last weekend I drove down to Monterey for the Jazz Festival. It's been quite a number of years since I've gone, so I can't comment on whether my observations are just a slow trend or something sudden. But I seem to recall many years of people dancing in the aisles of the main arena and a definite vibe of fun and letting go.

This year though, no one in the arena danced. It wasn't for lack of hot rhythms - there was some amazing music. But the crowd seemed older and the party atmosphere was subdued. Was it age, the economy, the signs that declared "no standing in the aisles"?

I think maybe it was a quiet longing for comfort.

One of the few times we did get to our feet was to sing along with Pete Seeger to Woody Guthrie's "This Land Is Your Land." As Dave Becker noted in his Examiner blog, "there was a thrilling sense of being in the presence of important, dynamic and still vital piece of American history." Is it nostalgia that gets us going?

The real energy emanated from the Best Buy booth where you could try out the new Beatles: RockBand. It was great fun to see the diverse groups that got together to take up an instrument. Maybe it was the free CDs if you scored high, but I kind of think it was that nostalgia thing again. Without a doubt though, the music held it all together.

One of the things I'll miss

Leaving San Miguel didn't seem sad until this morning when I started packing up. One of the things I will miss is the sound of hooves striking the cobblestone street outside our casita. This is a member of the local police force that patrols our neighborhood, his uniform inspired by the colonial soldiers of the era of Ignacio Allende and Mexican Independence.

Just do it

Every Friday night at the dance studio where I've been taking lessons, we have a dance party where all the students and their guests show up to dance or just to watch and have drinks. Two days ago during my lesson, Christy, the owner suggested that since the following night's party would be my last, I should do a tango demonstration to show how much I've learned in the last few months.

Now, you have to understand that from the age of 6 to 12, I took ballet lessons and managed to avoid ever being in a recital. In fact I quit ballet and never took dance lessons again, much to my mother's disappointment, because I was TERRIFIED of performing. So here I am dozens of years later feeling pretty much like I did when I was 12. No pressure.

Last night, in the middle of the party with about 50 people, Christy turns up the lights and gathers everyone around to announce that it is my last week, what a dedicated student I've been and "Now Denise is going to dance a tango with BOTH of her instructors (Ivan and Ruben)"! OK, so that was news to me because they have very different styles and I'd only mentally prepped for the steps I'd been trying to learn the night before with Ruben. No pressure.

If you've every seen the movie, The Tango Lesson by Sally Potter, there is scene where she is learning tango and she dances simultaneously with three men. It was kind of like that... well not quite, but that's what I felt like. I began the song with Ivan and in the middle they suddenly switched and I continued dancing with Ruben. You also have to understand that this movie is one of my favorites - I mean, who wouldn't want to tango in a big studio with three handsome Latin men?

So, did I faint, fall, throw up? No, thank heaven. Did I make mistakes? Of course. But I got applause! And roses! And people I knew and also had never met came up to me to tell me how impressive and passionate my tango was. So, this was one of those experiences that you daydream about all your life but never believe that you'll really have (like one day I'll win the lottery)... and it really happened. Because I finally just did it.

Originally I was going to end this post right here, but this morning I read an article in the NYT that shook me up a bit and I thought might help me make a point about why my tango experience (and all my experiences this past year) are so important to me. The article profiles Michael Blattman, who at 58 after a very successful and lucrative career, has found himself unemployed for the past 18 months. Of course it scared me... I have little idea what my job prospects will be when I return to the States. This could be me.

But what really disturbed me was what Mr. Blattman was doing with all his free time..."He can walk to shopping, but often drives his secondhand S.U.V. to a grocery store two towns away just to have someplace to go. “If I walk to the store, I’m back in 10 minutes, and then what?” Last Monday, asked what he had planned for the week, he said, “As of now, I have zero planned, not a thing.” He says that filling his days is a chore.

It really takes so little to realize our dreams... or the dreams of others. It's awful to be unemployed, but what an opportunity to do some volunteer work between interviews, or exercise a latent talent for the enjoyment of others. I absolutely do not discount the importance a career, but it's not the only thing that matters.

Adios mi guarderia

How many people have I tearfully said goodbye to this past year? Too many. But that's the tradeoff for the fortune I've had being able to be a part of so many lives, even for just a few months.

I'm leaving San Miguel in a week - back to San Francisco and the reality of a mortgage that needs to be paid. So today I said goodbye to my wonderful colleagues at Casa de los Angeles, the mamas, and the sweet little babies I've helped care for over the past 5 months.

I still can't say enough about Donna Quathamer, the organization she founded, and what they've managed to achieve. This morning, Donna gave me a very kind thank you card. In it was a quote I love...

"I think the purpose of life is to be useful, to be responsible, to be compassionate. It is above all, to matter, to stand for something, to have a made a difference."

So here's my pitch - if you'd like to make a small difference, please think about donating to Casa de los Angeles. If you'd prefer a more hands-on experience, check out the idealist.org - a great resource for NGO info and volunteer ops all over the world.

Beauty and the beast

I just returned this morning from four beautiful days in Acapulco.

I know at this point a bunch of people reading this will say "Acapulco? Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?" Maybe. Probably not.

In its heyday, Acapulco was the hideaway for many a Hollywood actor. In the late 50s, my parents spent their honeymoon there. It was THE Mexican resort destination. It was beautiful.

And a lot of Acapulco is still beautiful - the sunsets are still breathtaking, the water is warm and crystal clear in many places, the hillsides are lush, and the dark-skinned divers in their tiny swimsuits still do perfect swan dives from La Quebrada.

But a lot of Acapulco is just plain ugly and the drug trafficking of the last few years has taken its toll. Acapulco is a sadly perfect example of the tug of war between man's greedy carelessness and the power of nature.

Arrive on the bus to Acapulco and if you've never been there, your first thought will be finding the next bus back. But drive through the coastal hills and you'll be looking for a real estate agent.

I stayed in a beautiful home up the coast on Mimosa beach. This photo was what I saw from the terrace every evening. About 100 feet below is a secluded private cove where I swam and sat on the sand. What you don't see in this picture is the multi-million dollar property just below of a once prominent Mexican political leader, which was confiscated by the government then completely ransacked and burned by the locals after he was arrested for money laundering and drug trafficking (what better use for a secluded private beach).

So to get from this gorgeous view to the waves below, I traipsed through burnt timbers and broken glass, past empty bungalows filled with bats, and swimming pools thick with decaying mud and mosquitos.

A photo is worth a thousand words but my camera decided to take a break, so I have no images of this disaster. But maybe that's for the best. If we focus too much on the ugly obstacles, we lose sight of the potential for beauty beyond. The jungle is already taking over the property. Fortunately sometimes nature wins in spite of us.

Two hours

Last Monday I spent 2 hours in the Mexico City bus station waiting for my bus back to San Miguel. Trying to be creative was the only way I could keep from going insane.

Perros

Traveling through Mexico City yesterday I stopped at a friends' house in the Condessa. Everyday in the Parque Mexico across the street there is obedience training. Every breed you can imagine is lined up awaiting instructions - or in this case, practicing looking bored. Sometimes, like little kids, you can catch one or two sneekily inching over to their buddy next to them to exchange secrets.... "Did you bring the ball? I'll meet you at the duck pond after school."

Short and spectacular

Expresion en Corto, a fantastic international short film festival, descended on San Miguel this past weekend. Multiple theaters across town have been showing over 400 short documentaries, fiction, animation and award winners from around the world. And the best part, aside from the world-class content... I can walk to all of this and it's FREE!

On Sunday night, a giant outdoor screen in the Jardin featured the silent film, Tartuffe, accompanied by the Symphony Orchestra of Compeche. The short video composite above doesn't do the event justice, but you get the idea - lights, moon, beautiful architecture, fun film, and the inevitable fireworks.

In addition to this smorgasbord of cinematography, I had dinner a wonderful new restaurant, Mivida and sampled one of the best tasting menus I've ever had (and coming from San Francisco, that's saying a lot). Living on an extremely tight budget here, I don't eat out very often, and certainly not at higher end places, so this was a treat (and I admit, a shameless plug - if you're in town you've go to try it).

This weekend was truly about grazing the great things San Miguel has to offer. I'm continually reminded how lucky I am.

So Mexico

Almost every weekend there is at least one wedding in the Parroquia. And without fail, there will be a freshly waxed car parked out front, bedecked in flowers, waiting to whisk away the newly joined couple. I love this truck (note custom flame grill) and the fact that the wedding floral color scheme compliments the paint job. Que bonito!

Dirty Dancing

Even though this video was taken on the 4th of July, I figured that I hadn't posted in so long I was entitled to pull something from the past, and it's still July afterall.

This is what happens when you mix a tentful of Texans; a day of tequila, beer and BBQ; and a central Mexican rainy season deluge.

Salsa Rueda

In my quest to learn something new everyday (no matter how small) last night I went to my first Salsa Rueda class. I'd never seen nor heard of Salsa Rueda, and to be honest my salsa sucks, but I've gotten past my fear of making a fool of myself.

Oh my god, did I have fun.

The best way to describe Rueda is "square dance salsa" where multiple couples (from 2 to dozens) dance in a circle and exchange partners according to prescribed moves called out by a caller. It originated in Cuba is also called Cuban salsa - more info on Wikipedia of course.

We only learned 5 simple moves last night, but we were exuberant when we got through a whole song. You can imagine what might happen when just one person misses a call or screws up, but in our case it was hilarious. There are hundreds of calls. For a giggle, take a look at this list. One of my favorites is "muerdela! - enchufla (turn) then bite her hand as you leave!" Sort of a kinky Simon Says for adults.

Here's a fun video (image above is from the video, not my class!) for those of you who've never seen Salsa Rueda. While this is competition level and looks tightly choreographed, somewhere in there is a caller signaling what comes next. I didn't catch any biting though.

Dame otra!

Toros y Mujeres

Yesterday I witnessed my second bullfight. What fun! And so much more interesting than the first one I saw in March. I've posted more pics on Facebook.

All four of the toreros were women - and they seemed more tenacious and more fearless then any of the men I had seen. These women were tough and their bulls were feisty, and I thought this is the epitome of the Latin woman who is brought up having to deal with Latin men - bows and braids and covered in blood, tossed and trampled, they got right back up and stood down these huge beasts without taking one step back. Bravo mujeres!

Lest you think I've become an addict of blood sport, the next best thing about this event was that none of the bulls were killed (at least not in the ring). While they were taunted by the picadores and blood was shed, at the end of each fight, the girl would face the bull and toss down her cape and sword, turning her back and walking away victorious. Then 6 young men strode in and wrestled the bull (more or less successfully) out of the ring.

The Festival was sponsored by one of the candidates, Lucy Nunez, who is running in the upcoming local election, and was free. The Plaza de Toros was packed with people waving the flags of their favorite candidates and enjoying a great day. We even did the wave. It was a good day to be a girl.

A typical day

Yesterday evening after a typical day (which included not so typically mangling my left index finger with a box cutter, but that's another story), I was walking down my street and saw a typical sight.

This little burro is carrying drinks for the party of people walking behind the band as they travel from one locale to the next. The band plays continuously the length of the route (try doing that with an acoustic base).

Some might think it's a bit strange to see a burro in hat followed by a band dressed in colonial costumes. In fact it would be strange not to hear music or the clatter of hooves in the streets, or the sound of fireworks in the middle of the night.

Just another typical day. How lucky am I?

My first scorpion

After hearing tales from a friend here how he stuck his hand under his pillow one night and was stung by a scorpion, I couldn't believe that I'd ever really run into one. Maybe I was just in denial.

Well, lucky me, tonight I just saw my very first scorpion. Ever. Three inches long in the kitchen sink. I still can't believe that things crawl up out of the drainpipes. I mean, isn't there supposed to be a u-joint with water in it that keeps smells and things like that away??

Sorry there is no picture to go along with this post but the last thing I was going to do was run around looking for my camera and risk discovering that the thing had disappeared, and then stay up all night imagining it was under my pillow. No, instead I grabbed my most treasured possession - my can of Raid under the sink and blasted the thing, before taking a 10 inch knife and cutting it in half.

Normally I'm really buddhist when it comes to living things - I feel so guilty if I have to squish an ant. But scorpions cross the line. eeesh.

postscript: I thought I'd add a link to a web picture in case anyone was interested. How wonderful that the first link I clicked on included not only a picture (quite accurate) but also wonderful news that Mexico is home to the fifth deadliest scorpion in the world which kills 1000-2000 people a year here. Great.

Dia de los Locos

Yesterday I spent the afternoon observing one of the most popular and colorful fiestas in San Miguel - Dia de los Locos - day of the crazies - in honor of Saint Anthony of Padua, patron saint of lost things. It's really best described as a cross between Mardi Gras (without the puking), Halloween, and maybe the Gay Pride parade (without the nakedness).

Thousands of families line the parade route, while thousands more dressed as birds, cartoon figures, animals, aliens, drag queens... you name it, dance behind truck floats or bands blaring music, and throw handfuls of candy at the crowds. We dodged flying candy from the balconies of our almost-renovated dance studio on Hernandez Macias. It was amazing.

For a visual tour of the parade, see my pix on Facebook.

For a little history, here's a nice excerpt from Gorden Jett's article in MexicoFile...

In the 17th and 18th centuries Catholic priests introduced San Pascual Bailon as the patron saint of field workers and kitchen workers. The newly converted Mexicans celebrated his “day” on May 17 by decorating themselves with tools and other symbols of their labor and dancing to the sounds of pagan flutes and drums.

To keep the paraders and observers separated, some paraders were dressed as scarecrows and their characteristic movements were described as “loco,” i.e., crazy. Somewhere along the way, paraders dressed as clowns replaced the field and kitchen workers, though the music and the dances stayed the same.

San Antonio de Padua’s day was celebrated on June 13th and it had its own dances. But the dances of San Pascual Bailon were so popular that they were also used for San Antonio’s celebration. Gradually the two celebrations melded and are now celebrated as one on the first Sunday following June 13.

Nowadays, neighborhood groups or groups of workers join together to make elaborate special costumes. Some ride on the back of trucks decorated as floats and some march the route. Almost all have bands or recorded music which competes in a glorious cacophony that is so characteristic of Mexico. Early on, the marchers handed out pears to the people along the parade route, but now each group throws candy into the crowd, causing even more noisy mayhem.

A good cause

In San Miguel, there is no lack of opportunity to support a good cause no matter what your passion. Last week, I attended a fundraiser for the local Waldorf school. San Miguel also has a fast growing organic food movement so many (actually I think, most) of the local organic farms and restaurants partnered in the event, raising awareness not only for creative education, but sustainability as well.

One may question whether donating pesos to benefit an alternative private school is more worthy than supporting the many families whose survival depends on their children selling Chiclets in the streets. Personally I think we're obligated to do what we can wherever we can if it involves benefitting the children who are our future.

Recreating or re-creating?

A common question in San Miguel is "do you live here or are you just visiting?" That's usually followed by "so what is it that you do?" I've met quite a few people since I come here and so get hit with these questions all the time. And I still don't have good answers. Which is a little scary.

When I made the decision to leave Cheskin to take a "short" sabbatical, my idea was to shake up my routine and open myself up to new experiences, people and places. In my imagination, I'd reemerge inspired and with a whole new network of opportunities. My travels, work and studies in Morocco and Mexico would build character (I'm a big believer that no matter what age, we can all benefit from a little character building) and a couple nice paragraphs on my resume. The unknown possibilities were intoxicating.

Well, it's been almost a year since I made the decision to change course and 9 months since I got on a plane to Casablanca. Shouldn't I be entrenched in my new career as Global Children's Ambassador for Peace? What have I been doing for the last 9 months??

Fortunately, I just read two articles in the New York Times today that have calmed my anxiety a little. The first, about Making Vacation Last for Months, profiled a few "work-travelers" who spend summers collecting enough cash to see the world on a really limited budget the rest of the year. 

What interested my wasn't the lifestyle of these travel addicts or even the article itself, but the rash of conflicting (and sometimes rather hostile) reader commentary. Clearly we're divided between those who equate status and value with 9-5 jobs and 2 weeks vacation, and those who value the experience and personal creative challenge that extended travel brings. (Guess which side I'm on.)

The second, by Michelle Slatalla, A Play Date With My Imagination, examined creativity as we age - why some of us keep coming up with new ideas while others essentially run out. The important thing is to keep imagining and creating, even if it's not radically different from your current skill set. An interview quote in her piece nailed it for me - 

“Usually the people who keep going are the ones who are open to new experiences. Do something different. Take a risk. Try to believe in the future tense.”

Perhaps I just need to be a little more content with "recreating" - refreshing and renewing my imagination and inspiration, rather than "re-creating" myself totally anew.

I feel better already.

Uno, dos, tres, uno, dos, tres, mira... yo bailo!

It's true, everyday I leave dance class humming that tune from Hello Dolly (though unlike the movie, I try not to go skipping down the cobblestone streets on my way home). Ivan (above) is a wonderful teacher, as are all the instructors at the Arthur Murray studio where I'm studying (can you believe it - Arthur Murray - sounds so old school). My Tango classes (along with foxtrot, rumba, salsa, swing....) are the best example of my "it's never too late" mantra. 

Buenos Aires, here I come... well, maybe after a few more lessons.

Burros and balloons

There really is no place that I've been so far that has quite the same serendipitous magic of San Miguel.

Two nights ago, walking to my favorite taco place for dinner, a group of burros resting before their climb back up the hill, waited at the end of my street. 

Last week, crossing the Jardin at sunset, I witnessed men lighting paper hot air balloons and sending them up over the city. 

Magical.

This little piggy...

I think everyone has pretty much had enough of this swine (oops, human) flu thing. I know I have. The best you can do at this point is just make light of it - my friend S is referring to the excessive measures in Asia as "piggy protection." 

Our local bakery is also having a bit of fun - this morning, our favorite pan dulces were shaped like pigs.

Sign of the times

My favorite flu sign, seen in my favorite coffee place in San Miguel - Juan's Cafe.

All quiet on the San Miguel front

The swine flu has got everyone talking and taking action in San Miguel de Allende. I'm beginning to see quite a few people wearing masks - in fact everyone working in the Mega supermarket had them on. The barman at the diner where we had lunch today put plastic gloves on before taking our plates away, and the cook offered us hand gel before we ate. 

Fortunately we have had no cases of swine flu in San Miguel. Nevertheless everyone is being cautious - no handshaking or kissing. And the normal chaos of dozens of kids playing in the park across from our house is eerily absent - in fact the park is vacant! The streets are pretty empty too. Schools are closed and all of my dance classes have been cancelled for the week.

There isn't any sense of panic here though - mainly just everyone erring on the side of caution, and enjoying an excuse to lay around the house and stay out of the heat. 

I'm really impressed with the way this is being handled here. I do hope it ends soon though (supposedly everything will reopen on May 6th). I miss my dance classes already!

Respect your mother

Today is Earth Day, but you wouldn't know it from reading the New York Times online or CNN or any of the other news services my Google home page crawls. I don't know about you but I find that not only a little sad, but worrisome as well. I realize that everyday we're hit with some news that's tied to the toll humanity is taking on the planet (the most recent being the severe water shortages in Mexico and the US), but shouldn't we still make an effort to make mention of the one day set aside to honor our Mother Earth?

I'm making a wild guess here, but I'll bet that come Mother's Day, the NYT will have some little ditty about Moms - some fact or at least a picture of Michelle Obama with her girls. But today, not even one little mention of someone planting a tree. Maybe we're just holding back until the 40th anniversary of Earth Day next year. I'll hang onto that hope.

I have to say not much in the way of commemoration is happening in San Miguel either, but happily we do have a nascent sustainability campaign. And by default, there are a lot of habits that would qualify as "green" in a thriving first world community, but for us it's just a way of life and a way to save money. Here a just a few examples (please feel free to try these at home... ;-)

• Line drying in the sun
  
• Reusable shopping bags (like my kitsch Frida bag)
  
• CFLs (in fact most of the chandeliers in the gothic Parroquia now have them - kind of funny looking but hey, it saves a bundle!)
  
• Walking or taking the bus
  
• Recycling plastic bags (the local Episcopalian church stuffs mattresses with them)
  
• Natural ventilation (hand-held fans are quite the fashion accessory among some circles)

Of course, lord knows Mexico is not the poster child for healthy, sustainable living. But hopefully it will improve. And if the media can make an effort to remind us of what we owe to our Mother Earth, even if just for one day, I think it can make a difference.

The sounds of San Miguel continued

I think this will be an ongoing series - the sounds of San Miguel - which may warrant earplugs at times.

This morning at 5am, after a night of playing hide and seek with a mosquito, the explosions started. Your first thought is not panic, but rather, "oh geez, what now." After about an hour of a series of explosions every 5 minutes or so, I figured it was either another religious celebration or they were trying to blow the snowy egrets out of the trees in the parque (which I'd read they'd tried earlier, to no avail).

The explosions continued throughout the morning, so on my way to work I decided to investigate. Fortunately, the snowy egrets were safe (though probably as bleary-eyed as the rest of us). And I was right on my second theory - bundles of rockets still waiting to be shot off were piled in the small courtyard of the little chapel on Callejon del Chorro. I asked what the fuss was about but my still limited Spanish got me as far as some sort of religious commemoration and if I liked I could join mass which was stating shortly.

Note in the photo above the man on the upper left swinging an incense holder - he's also the gardener that waters the church plants there every morning. The guy on the right is loading up another series of rockets - they even have their own custom rocket launcher.

(Oh great.... as I write this, 12 hours from the start of the first explosions this morning, they are starting again!!!)

Aside - another sound heard on my morning walk yesterday - a mocking bird imitating the little whistle the knife sharpening guy makes as he announces his presence on the streets.

My new favorite pastime

Did you ever wonder what happens to all those last season clothes that end up on the sales racks at the super discount stores like Nordstrom Rack and Marshall's, and then still never sell?

I have my theory - they all end up at Mexican flea markets, piled three feet high.

Even though I can comb through four floors of the SF Loehmann's with the patience of Job to find a designer bargain, I was never tempted to dig through heaps of wrinkled clothes at a flea market... until I met Sheila. Sheila is an attractive refined woman of a certain age with perfect posture and wonderful style. The other day she told me the pants she was wearing, which looked tailor fit, cost her 22 pesos at the Tuesday market. I was astounded.

So this morning I got on the bus thinking if Sheila can do it, so can I. Fifteen minutes of digging and flinging brands like Ann Taylor and Banana Republic (oh, my!) along with some pretty tacky rags, and 35 pesos later (that's about $2.50 US), I'm the owner of a classic fully-lined black linen sheath and a fit-like-a-glove pair of stretch khakis. This could get addictive.

Next Tuesday I'm going for Donna Karan.

My Babies

Mondays, Wednesday and Fridays I'm in heaven. I help take care of little babies - seven of them. Yes, all at one time.

Casa de los Angeles was founded in 2000 by Donna Quathamer (who is an angel herself) as a safe haven for the children of the streets and those whose mothers come from the outskirts of town to work or to sell their wares at the local mercado. It serves more than 100 children from 73 families at two seperate daycare centers and in addition to daycare, the centers provide a place for mothers to find the support and the help they need to make a good life for themselves and their children.

Casa de los Angeles and Donna are quite well known in San Miguel and when I mention that I volunteer there, people tell me what a generous thing I'm doing. Really though it feels quite selfish - how can holding, feeding, playing with, and drying the tears of little angels be considered a sacrifice. I think it's heavenly.

Casa de los Angeles is always in need of donations - they accept credit cards and Paypal, as well as having a US address if you'd prefer to send a check. I encourage anyone reading this to consider a donation... or come down to Mexico and join me!

It's just not a holiday without gunpowder

After Easter mass, I joined the crowd in the Jardin to watch the "Querna de Judas" (Burning of Judas). About a dozen paper m
ache effigies are strung across the street and blown up one by one. Each is sponsored by a local business and carries a crudely hand lettered sign.

After the last is blown to smithereens, the masses converge on the carnage to carry away "souvenirs." Nothing says Easter more than shredded body parts.

If you're not Catholic, get over it

I do most of my grocery shopping at Bonanza, a small store that's got just about anything you need. I needed plain white candles, so I took off to the back of the store where I knew there was half an aisle full of them. My choices for plain white tapers - the Sacred Heart of Jesus or the Virgin of Guadalupe. While the bleeding heart candles were 10 pesos more, it felt like they were better quality. Go figure.

The Good Friday Processions

This weekend (beginning on Holy Thursday) has been like living in a Mexican/Catholic Disneyland. Throughout all of Latin America, schools and work shut down and people take time to travel. San Miguel is extremely popular this time of year for its natural beauty and its Semana Santa pageantry so thousands of mexican and foreign tourists flock here.

The streets are bedecked in purple and white crepe paper and banners symbolizing purity and mourning. Street vendors are out en masse taking advantage of tourists' pesos - selling the usual balloons, baskets, ribboned dolls and plastic toys, along with a plethora of religious tokens. Instead of hearing lively "fiesta" music, you're more likely to hear church bells or in my case right now, they're playing Gregorian chants in the parque (I'm seriously not kidding).

Thousands of people came yesterday to witness not one, but TWO incredible Good Friday processions - Santo Encuentro (the Holy Encounter) and Santo Entierro (the Holy Burial).

Santo Encuentro re-enacts four steps of Jesus's walk to Calvary from his judgement by Pontius Pilate to his encounter with his mother Mary (I hear they used to do the 12 stations but that was way before my time). It's an extremely moving spectacle and no matter what religion you ascribe to, you can't help but feel a mother's pain and anguish as as the statue of Mary faces the statue of Jesus before he's led away. See my pics on Facebook.

The second procession at sunset is the very solemn Santo Entierro where an elaborate glass coffin bearing a statue of the crucified Christ is led through the streets, preceded by roman soldiers, little girls carrying cherubim, women in black with lace mantillas carrying archangels, all flanked by men and women in black holding candle lanterns. More Facebook pics.

I feel very lucky to be here to witness this amazing season. No events scheduled for today, but it looks like lots happening tomorrow. Better get my Easter bonnet ready!

Semana Santa

While on Saturday, San Miguel was full of uniforms and metal detectors, Sunday was quite the opposite - Holy week (Semana Santa) has begun.

Last Friday was Viernes de Dolores, a day dedicated to the seven sorrows of the Virgin Mary. Colorful alters to the Virgin suddenly appeared on street corners, public buildings and living rooms. The alters contain all kinds of symbolic references, the strangest of which are bitter oranges symbolizing the Virgin's sorrow with little gold flags sticking out of them symbolic of her joy knowing Jesus will be resurrected.

On Palm Sunday, a huge procession of people wielding beautifully woven (and whole) palm fronds paraded from the parque next to our house to the Parroquia, led by a cadre of acolytes with incense of course and a statue of Jesus on a donkey. Compared to the display of firearms on Saturday, the only danger on Sunday was the possibility of getting poked in the eye with a palm branch.

There are still many celebrations to come this week, and I'm especially anticipating the "Firing of the Judases" on Easter Sunday when paper maché effigies are blown up in the center of town (no celebration is complete in Mexico without gunpowder).

However, I think what I look forward to most is a good night's sleep... church bells at 4am are charming, but not for seven nights in a row.

For more info on Semana Santa in San Miguel, here's a great article.

Happy Easter everyone. Party on, San Miguel.

So safe in Mexico

Many of my family and friends (yes, you) have expressed worry about my sojourn in Mexico based on media accounts of the horrible violence in many Mexican cities. I've asserted (and continue to believe) that it's more dangerous to walk through Oakland than it is to live in most parts of Mexico.

Well, now I've got the proof... Felipe Calderon, the president of Mexico is here today to rededicate the San Miguel de Allende Museum and the town is armed to the teeth with rifle and machine gun toting Federales and Mexican army. I'm telling you, nothing feels safer than seeing dozens of kids that look no more than 17 wielding automatic weapons. I had to go through a metal detector to walk through the central square this morning. Of course today was the day I decided to sport some silver bling, so all my bracelets set off the alarm... and they still just waved me through. Damn, I could have tucked my pistol in my belt and really felt safe.

Seriously though - I hate guns. And I'm not especially fond of large crowds. And the two together scare the hell out of me. So tonight we're staying home and enjoying a nice barbecue and bottle of wine. Now I feel safe.

Death in the Afternoon

Sunday I went to my first bullfight. There is a bullring that is about a 10 minute walk from the house - I find it a bit ironic that it's just up the street from the dance studio where I'm learning to tango (though not learning the Pasodoble).

A bullfight is a cruel spectacle. No one can deny that when death is the objective. I found it fascinating, horrible and beautiful. It's a complex experience. It's certainly an art and not a sport (even though a torero or banderillero risks death or injury, I'd argue that it's not really a "competition" between the bull and the man). Hemingway said that "bullfighting is the only art in which the artist is in danger of death and in which the degree of brilliance in the performance is left to the fighter's honor."

The arena was pristine when we arrived - we were among the first there. Gradually gringos and Mexicans (more gringos than Mexicans) filled about a third of the cement seating. Vendors sold cervezas and a brass band up in the shade played traditional music, just a bit off key. Compared to bullfights I have heard about in Spain, this was probably more on the scale of community theater than Broadway.

Four toreros performed with various levels of skill, and the small young bulls did the best they could though all but the last looked worn out from the start. The first two toreros were respectable though not particularly remarkable (to my untrained eye of course). The third torero was a young novillero, perhaps 16, whom I might guess will not survive a career in bullfighting without serious injury. He spent much of the fight running from the bull and being coached from the sidelines. He was handsome though and posed with bravado.

The last to perform was young Emilio - only 12 but with a brave talent. His was by far the best fight, and his bull the most honorable. He stood quite still as his veronicas (sweeps of the cape) led the bull just inches past him. At one point he knelt in front of the bull, in respect.

Toward the end of a fight (it's not really a fight, more of a dance), the matador exchanges his sword for a much longer sharper one - the killing sword. After a few more passes with the bull they both stand facing one and other. The bull is tired and his head is bowed from the banderillas which hang bloody from his shoulders. The matador points his sword high and rushes the bull attempting to thrust it between the bull's shoulder blades for the kill. Unfortunately this isn't always done well and the bull is not brought down quickly; it suffers and must be killed by the banderilleros with a dagger to the base of the neck. Young Emilio thrust his sword perfectly down to the hilt and his bull, poor honorable Don Felipe, died quickly.

The crowd gave him a standing ovation and he was awarded both of the bull's ears (the previous matadors only gained one, though I'm really not yet sure what significance this has).

While I turned my head away many times yesterday afternoon, I'll definitely seek out other bullfights, not only to watch but to try to understand.

The sounds of San Miguel

I'm currently living in a little house that faces the Parque Juarez in San Miguel de Allende. This is a beautiful park full of activity where every morning you can find people from all walks of life (so to speak) taking a brisk morning stroll or run, or watching their kids on the jungle gym. And if you want to hear what San Miguel sounds like, this is the place to be.

Beyond the cacophony of birds, kids, and cars, there's a symphony of sound every day. Since I arrived, every weekday evening around 6-ish, there is marching band practice - trumpets and drums sound off for at least an hour. Around 10 am every other day, the trash truck comes 'round, announced by a guy clanging two pieces of metal together - you can't miss the sound. In the evenings, the knife sharpener wanders down the street tooting his little pipe whistle.

Somewhere (I haven't precisely located it yet) someone is blasting their stereo - fortunately they have quite a decent music collection. Saturday mornings at 8:30 is Zumba - group aerobics with about 200 people on the basketball courts - nothing gets you out of bed like heart-thumping disco.

Yesterday evening, a wedding party of about 150 paraded through the parque with giant puppets and the traditional taquila burro (basically a bar on 4 hoofs decorated with flowers). Musicians played and sang in the little band stand.

Beginning at around 4am this morning, the sound of explosions permeated my dreams, then kept me awake all morning. Every 2 minutes, blasting gunpowder (without the sparkle) echoed across the hills as San Miguel marked the beginning of Semana Santo with the parade of El Señor de la Columna from the town of Atononilco to the church of San Juan de Dios in San Miguel. In my predawn sleepy confusion, I only figured out we weren't being bombed by the lack of emergency sirens.

I love the sounds of San Miguel, but I'm also thankful for earplugs once in a while.

I'm living the beginner's mind because I can't help it

The beginner's mind is a concept that according to Wikipedia "refers to having an attitude of openness, eagerness, and lack of preconceptions when studying a subject, even when studying at an advanced level, just as a beginner in that subject would. The term is especially used in the study of Zen Buddhism and Japanese martial arts."

I am living in Mexico and I do not speak Spanish as well as a 2-year old. I am taking dance lessons, something which I have not done since I was 12. Today's lesson was Argentine tango, one of the most difficult dances to learn (except in my case I'd argue that the hip snap in Bachata scores higher on the difficulty scale). Neither my teacher, nor either of the guys I was practicing with spoke English.

Now let me add that when I was taking dance lessons in my youth, my mom painted the nails on my right hand red so that I could remember left from right since I had a little dyslexia-ish problem that resulted in my turning left when everyone else faced right (I think it had something to do with all those mirrors). I apparently still have this problem. And now I have a teacher who is telling me something like "no, go forward on your right foot, turn and go backwards" in Spanish. OK.

So, I've paid my tuition and now I have no choice but to embrace this subject with "openness, eagerness, and lack of preconceptions" because if I didn't I would just have to break down and cry in the middle of the dance floor. And believe me, in a room full of mirrors that's just not a pretty sight.

Seriously though - I really am having fun.

Back in crazy San Miguel...

Continuing my recession strategy of dramatically reducing my expenses in lieu of submitting to gainful employment, I find myself again in Mexico. San Miguel de Allende to be exact. See map above if you want to know EXACTLY where I'm sitting at this moment.

And even though I am spending a lot of time in the familiar environs of Google, Facebook and the NYT online, it's now accompanied by the delighted screams of children playing in the park across the street and, as of 5 minutes ago, the blaring trumpets and drums of a Mexican marching band practicing for some nationalist event no doubt (it's a parade a month in San Miguel).

Nope, I'm not in California anymore!

Beautiful California

In three days I leave for Mexico. I'll be living in San Miguel again - in the middle of the high desert, this time for 4 months. As if to say, "are you SURE this is what you want to do?," California has burst into a flowering abundance.

Driving down I5 Sunday was, for a change, a joy, with miles of blossoming fruit trees. Poppies, lupine and a variety of wildflowers peppered verdant hills. At one point just before the Tejon pass climb I actually out load exclaimed "oh my god" as I suddenly came upon acres of ultraviolet - it looked as unnatural as it did striking. (a Goggle search has still not revealed what I saw - if you know, please tell me!)

Yesterday I walked the beach at Huntington, trying to absorb a bit of Pacific Ocean salt before I head inland. The sky was brilliant and the warm water was teaming with surfers.

As much as I keep telling everyone that I'm done with San Francisco and ready to see what could come my way beyond US borders, I'll always be a California girl and feel very lucky to say so.

The simple life

Ever since I spent my junior year of college in France, I've wanted to live abroad. I've dreamed of a simple little stone house in Provence or a sunny cabana in South America or maybe a nice little cottage on the coast of Portugal, and adventures in far away places.

But I could never completely uproot myself from California. As carefree as I dream of being, the reality of the tumbleweed lifestyle - rolling with the wind - isn't that easy. I need a home base, if only to park my cherished family heirlooms and my tax records.

So my goal lately has been to figure out how to ultra-simplify my life, to be more mobile but still maintain a solid connection to my SF life. I've found some awesome solutions as I get ready for 4 more months away...

Earthclass Mail is helping me manage my snail mail super cost effectively - and in an earth-friendly way as well. They'll scan the outside of everything that comes in and I can chose to recycle, shred, scan the contents, archive or forward. So far, it's been working great.

PayPal is helping me manage rent payments from my tenant - I realize bank transfers are also possible, but I like the ease of this solution. It's my first run though, so we'll see how it works.

Google just announced Google Voice. I'm a big fan of Skype (which I couldn't live without) but Google Voice seems to have raised the bar incredibly high (no surprise). I can't tell yet how this might be a benefit in Mexico, but I'm excited to see how it rolls out.

I know you have to develop a huge level of trust with these online solutions, but as David Pogue said on Marketplace yesterday, "Dude, get over it. We're already being watched all the time." (I'm paraphrasing a bit, but it was something like that.)

Lastly, what better way to simplify your responsibilities than to just ignore them. I thought I had a problem with online Scrabble, but I just downloaded Drop7 and I now know the meaning of tech crack (thanks Christopher for the dark circles under my eyes this morning).

It's the economy, stupid

For the past 2 weeks I've been trying to sell my slightly old, but very well-cared for digital piano on Craig's list. I know as well as anyone that Craig's list is notorious for flakey people, and I've had a few. But I've never come so close to selling something on Craig's list and had so many people beg financial reasons as their last minute excuse for backing out.

All the market statics give us a clear view of the dismal state of our economy, but nothing brings it home like the local community.

Like many homeowners, I've taken my piano off the market until better times.

Falling in love again

I know it's been almost a month since my last post and given that my days are pretty loosely structured now to say the least, I have no excuse. OK, I have one excuse. I started this blog to give all my friends a glimpse of my adventures abroad and now that I'm back in San Francisco, well, it doesn't seem so exotic anymore.

But frankly, side-stepping the 9-5 for a while has given me time to fall in love with my city and my little neighborhood all over again. And while it's not exactly "exotic" I'm finding some sweet little experiences. For instance, in lieu of shelling out $50 a month to my gym, I'm now taking a long walk every morning... along the shoreline. And I don't even have to get in my car to get there! How wonderful to watch a breeze ripple along the water instead of my own rippling cellulite as I plod along the treadmill. And who doesn't love being able to walk to UPS and be the only person there to pick up a package, or be able to take advantage of free first of the month Tuesdays at the de Young?

I have to be careful though. I know this relationship won't last, so perhaps it's best to cut it short while the memories are still sweet. Anyone want to rent a cute little cottage in Potrero Hill?

The best birthday present

Two months ago I awoke in Morocco to learn that Obama was elected President. Throughout the day Moroccans congratulated me on my country's soon-to-be new President. For the first time in a long time, I felt proud to be an American.

This morning I joined 60 other people at Juan's Cafe in San Miguel to watch the inauguration on CNN. In the background we could hear another TV broadcasting the Spanish translation. Many of us had tears as we listened and all of us cheered Obama's speech. It's amazing to realize that we now have a black President named Barack Hussein Obama.

And again, for the first time in a long time, I'm so proud of my country.

Today is without a doubt one of my most memorable birthdays.

Celebrations!

What a week.

I've heard it said that not two weeks go by in San Miguel without some kind of festival or celebration. I've only been here less than a month but so far it's holding true.

This week marks the anniversary of the birth of Ignacio Allende, one of the leaders of Mexican Independence, who was born here in San Miguel on January 21st, and for whom the town is named. Festivities began with a dance festival in the Jardin. A latin combo played cuban salsa in the gazebo while couples danced; a mexican brass band blew tunes in front of the Parroquia; Aztec dancers stomped and twirled next to the garden; people dressed as clowns, queens (not the royal kind) and various comic characters shook their booties to something resembling reggaeton; and local dance school kids performed exhibitions from cumbia to the twist to a painfully cute rendition of the machete dance by a group of 5-year olds.

And all of this was going on at the same time! Total Mexican cacophony.

The evening became a bit more focused, with a wonderful outdoor symphony concert next to the Parroquia featuring the Mexican Army chorus. Me and 300 other people sat under a starry sky listening to greatest hits from Shubert, Verdi, Bizet, etc. with a singalong to Cielito Lindo at the end. (I finally learned the words). I hear that Wednesday features a military parade through the streets (and given that the mounted police here wear traditional colonial uniforms, I'm expecting a visual treat).

Tomorrow's my birthday, though happily fully eclipsed by the inauguration. A true reason to celebrate. What a week!

The Mexican bus... everything you ever/never wanted

I have to admit that I'm not a "bus" person. Meaning that while I don't have anything at all against taking a bus, and in fact actually would prefer it if convenient, spending most of my life in California means that my bus experience is fairly limited. In fact with a few exceptions in Paris and New York, my bus involvement has been pretty focused on the 10 Townsend in San Francisco and the #3 bus in Rabat. But even admitting my naiveté when it comes to this mode of transport, I'm sure that the Mexican bus is fairly unique.

My first taste came on my ride from the terminal del Norte in Mexico City to the pyramids at Teotihuacan. As we boarded the bus, so did a vendor selling a vast selection of snacks and drinks. I thought, great, how convenient for a 1 hour trip, but not feeling too hungry, I declined.

At the first stop, a young guy boarded with his guitar, proceed to unpack it from its case next to me and then serenaded us all with typical mexican fare starting with Qui sas, qui sas, qui sas. At the next stop he stepped off, 30 pesos richer (me, 5 pesos poorer). At the third stop, we were plied with trays of colorful jello. Again, I declined, but not because of hunger. At the fourth stop, lovely loaves of plastic wrapped bread were paraded down the aisle. A culinary and cultural adventure and we hadn't even reached our destination.

My next experience was on the ETN bus from Mexico City to San Miguel. This is the business class of buses. No one parading down the aisle because everything you could ever or never need is right there, from your plastic wrapped croissant sandwich, chocomints and Fresca as you board, to free headphones, 2 movies, a choice of music channels and cushy reclining seats. Wow.

My most recent excursion was a 10-minute trip up the hill on the local San Miguel bus to visit the flea market. This time we were entertained by a man in a nice jacket and large briefcase who touted the wonders of a little jar of cream that (if I understood right) could treat anything from arthritis to eczema and even make your nails stronger.

I'm not sure what would happen if I tried hawking a fresh batch of cookies on the 10 Townsend back home. Might be something to think about if I need to subsidize my sabbatical. Persimmon walnut with a side of Stairway to Heaven anyone?

Adventures in being a good world citizen

Some habits die hard, especially throwing recyclables in the trash. But as one would expect in Mexico, curbside recycling isn't automatic.

So as the empty bottles of wine and water accumulated in the corner of the kitchen, I decided it was time to research recycling in San Miguel. A little Googling revealed Reciqla just a short drive outside of town. Cool. Right.

Deciding to make a fun afternoon of it, Carlos and I loaded up the car with our glass and plastic stash and couple small bundles of old newspapers and magazines left by the previous tenants, and first headed off to the hot springs located a few kms beyond the recycling turnoff (we assumed). I also had a flyer from a weaving factory in the vicinity that looked like an interesting diversion we could check out on the way back.

After a quick soak, back in the car we did our best to decipher the directions we had. Before we knew it we were back in San Miguel, never having spotted any of the roads, neighborhoods or turnoffs we needed for the recycling center nor the weaving factory. Bottles rattling in the backseat provided an insistent reminder of our goal, so Carlos stopped a taxi heading in what we hoped was the right direction (back the way we came) who offered to guide us to the right road.

Heading west and still not seeing anything resembling the street names we sought, we decided to turn around and try again. Finally the word 'reciclabes' painted across a cement wall caught our eye, though the brightly colored Reciqla logo was nowhere in sight. Turned out this scrap metal place took paper but no glass, so we dropped off our bundles and collected..... 7 PESOS!!! We also found out that another recycle place was just up the street 200 meters. And there it was finally - Reciqla - a small scrap lot with a happy logo and a little brightly painted truck out front... and a statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe in a little cinderblock niche. Our bottles were lined up on the scale, a receipt given which we redeemed at the caja for a big whopping.... 3 PESOS!!

Ten pesos burning a hole in our pocket, we glanced across the street and there sat the little weaving factory we sought and a tiny tienda next door. Two minutes later we enjoyed the fruits of our quest... one Dos Equis for 10 pesos.

Now, what to do with the can?