One Month Impressions

Just like in Pittsburgh, it is difficult to wake up and start the day when the sun is still hiding at 7:15am, even though the roosters are crowing to remind me to begin my day. By 8 or 8:30 as I walk the few blocks to the MCC Olinalá office two streets away, the women and the shop owners are about finished sweeping the narrow sidewalk and street in front of their house or store. If it hasn’t rained during the night, they spray water using a small bowl on the ground to help with the dust.

On my usual route I pass the elementary students in their uniforms of white shirts and navy blue pants walking or running into the Catholic school. Across the street from the school I say hello to the policeman guarding the Municipality entrance with a large rifle type weapon slung across his shoulder. I stroll by the zócalo (town square) as the fruit and vegetable vendors are arranging their stalls for the day. In small town tradition, I greet everyone I pass with a friendly buenos días. I’ve learned that if you know someone as you pass them, you say adios is a singsong voice.

When it’s time for comida (lunch) at 3 or 4pm, I retrace my steps home. By this time in the day, I fall in line with the other women and children on the shady side of the street to avoid the direct heat. I sometimes buy some fresh tortillas at one of the three tortillerias that I pass on the way home. For one peso I can buy 5-6 fresh tortillas, which is more than enough for me. The seller looks skeptical at my quantity because most people buy by the kilo as tortillas are the edible silverware of Mexico. They are best fresh, so I only buy what I can eat that day.

Throughout the day I listen to the soundtrack of Olinalá life. The car alarm noise coming from the trucks that circle town sell large jugs of drinking water for about 10 pesos/jug. The trucks that blare loud music with incomprehensible voices sell tanks of gas. The most elusive is the trash truck that rings a bell. The growing pile of plastic bags at the foot of my stairs shows that I am never home when they drive down my street.

Living simply is easy when I’m not surrounded by the distractions of restaurants, movie theaters and other entertainment venues. While there are numerous artesian shops selling beautiful lacquer boxes and trays, I indulge in two cheap treats: 1. atole and 2. paletas. On the rare mornings when there is a slight chill in the air, I buy a cup of atole (a milk based hot drink with rice) for 5 pesos from the woman pushing the wheelbarrow through the streets. And when the sun is unrelenting in the afternoons, I walk the 2-3 blocks from the office to the Paletaría with the largest variety to buy a paleta (popsicles that come in a variety of fruit flavors). It’s the best use of 2 pesos on a hot afternoon.

The town quiets in the evenings, and I enjoy reading on the back porch that has an obstructed view of the zócalo. Most of the town activity centers on the zócalo so I always hear the heartbeat of the town. On the weekends, the women’s basketball league holds their games under the lights. Thankfully, I have thus far avoided having to display my nonexistent skills.