A Fallen Superhero, A Country Disgraced

6/13
So I don’t know about your day yesterday but my was spent climbing ancient ruins of the Zapotecan culture. I took some pics so I will share those later. The structures might not be so impressive except when you think about the available technology and the fact that every building is on top of a small mountain. I also put on the first layer of my mexican tan (the problem is it will be a mexican farmer’s tan).
Jorge came by the house in the morning and we went to pick up tamales for breakfast for the family. We scored the package and had a delicious corn-based breakfast. We then made our pilgrimage to Monte Alban. We walked and climbed and walked and climbed in the blazing Mexican heat. We saw a fox like creature which was apparently a rarity to the area.
I then joined some of the older crew in the group to go to the zocalo (central plaza of the city) for a bit where I had my first encounter (from a distance) with some of the political dissenters. They had both set up in the middle with banners that could be easily read across the plaza. I returned to Gerardo’s house where we watched the Mets blow the game with a muff catch to end the game against the Yankee’s at their new stadium. It was here that great calamity befell me rep among the Mexican people. Gerardo needed help removing the equivalent to a manhole cover from his driveway so he could get to some water pipes. He said alright Superman, let’s see. I got in a good deadlifting position and began to pull. I eased into and hadn’t reach maximum thrust but the thing was stuck and hadn’t budged. He said okay, thanks, but I can’t call you Superman anymore. I felt like I had just disgraced the USA in the Olympics. Oh well.
We made plans for the morning, I showered, hit the sack.
Interesting note: It is being back in Mexico that I am now remembering a series of meditative forms similar to yoga where as you lay down to sleep you try not to let any part of your skin touch another part. This is especially difficult in the toes and underarms. If however you can achieve this the possibility, possibility mind you, of a good night’s sleep lies ahead of you. If not enjoy sweating and better luck tomorrow night.
So last night we said we would play some basketball at 8; I set my alarm to 7:50 (I am stupid, but not for the reason you are stereotypically thinking). I am proud to announce that for the first in the history of punctuality I was awakened? awoke? waked up? (pick your favorite) at 6:50 am (in the morning) to see if I was ready to go play! For fun?!?! I said something incoherent to both of us indicating I was about to be (my Spanish dies at 11pm and doesn’t get up until 9:45 am). We went to the courts (public, outdoor) and found a few who wanted to play. I was put with the old guys (who play similarly to old guys here (the foul the younger players (though in good natured jesting (because after all it is a game yes?)))). We went up and down which was a touch difficult because of the altitude and pollution but I did okay. No Ukraine miracles but I did hit one three and didn’t hurt myself. Gerardo is a fun player to watch; guy is in his mid 40’s and is about 5’4 probably 230lbs. He would pull down a ferocious board and then summoning the strength of the Aztecan gods (it’s a joke he’s Christian) with a battle cry unparalleled by human voice would hurl the ball one handed down the court to our snow bird who mad 50% of his lay ups.
Interesting note: we played for a couple of hours and no one stopped for a drink (mine was in the car (stupid.)), but afterwards Gerardo pointed up the street where we could get some jugo (juice). I thought okay jugo can me almost any type of liquid so I thought I would get a bottle of water. Alas it was jugo jugo. A tall freshly squeezed cup of OJ. Under other circumstances this would have been a real treat but it was not what the doctor generally orders after a basketball game that is played on mexican time. I slugged it anyway and sipped a little water on the way back.
I took a bus to the stadium to take another to Tule (Serrano’s house). The person I asked where the bus to Tule was said that he was a tourist too and was going there (but had no idea about the bus). I found it for us and made it home without a problem. We loaded the vans after I threw down some leftover eggs and turkey bacon, two toasts (yeah, just like Nacho Libre), and an old tamale. Off to Mitlan to see more ruins. I have more pictures. I had some ice cream there Burnt Milk (really. It’s called leche quemado, burnt milk) and Pecan, both of which were complimentary and delicious. We walked around various shops, the usual.
I joined Jorge to go to the church (they have classes on Saturday evenings). I went with the 20’s group and was able to participate in the discussion. I met Miguel who I had heard was recently baptized. We talked quite a bit afterwards; I think we are going to hang out a lot when he finishes his exams this coming week.
I rode with Gerardo to a Taqueria (taco shop). I have been waiting for this for 3 years. I had 5 tacos and 1 liter of horchata (rice water). It was magnificent. I have not been in a better mood in quite some time. Then Gerardo ordered me another drink: Pineapple. It was also 1 liter. Now for those of you who aren’t mathmagicians both drinks together make 2 liters of liquid. At first I’m thinking not a good idea, followed by wimp, followed by let’s do it, Gerardo did. So I bellied up to the bar and threw down that Pineapple in a way to maintain American dignity. I regretted it about 30 minutes later. No problems, just aches. Interesting note: The lesson tonight contained a bit about Paul’s running of the race, I myself considering the gross intake of such acidic fluids will be running a race soon, running like a nose, running like a greased penguin down the iceberg that sank the Titanic, running like… sorry I figure with these things you can laugh or cry.
For now I am returned, showered and ready to rest.