Quick, someone call up Science or Nature magazine! Better yet, call the UN! No, you know what? We need to call the Batman. Why? I just discovered time travel! I swear, I got to Puebla in April and started working, and bam, just like that, it's the middle of July. Hold on a sec... I'm getting a call.   Hello? ..yes?. Uh huh? .... Ok........ oh, so you're saying...... riiight..... Not time travel?..... are you sure?...... perception of time is relative? .... I've been working for 3 months?...... You have any proof? .. uh huh...... Ok, well I can't argue  with that.... Ok...... thanks.... bye bye.....   Sorry about that, you guys still with me? Just got off the phone. Apparently I'm not a genius. Apparently time can just "fly by". Well, however it happened * time travel*, 3 months went by, and like every Peace Corps volunteer in the world, it was time to return to Peace Corps country HQ for a week of in-service-training (aka IST). 

In-service-Training is a mandatory week of training sessions, but also an opportunity for volunteers in the same training class to come back to HQ and share their experiences and  reflect on the first 3 months. I mean, some of the classes weren't bad, but the real event though, was seeing my other volunteer buddies for the first time in 3 months. On the first formal day of sessions, we all gave formal presentations on our first 3 months of Peace Corps service. To be honest though, upon hearing how the last 3 months went for my volunteer friends, I thought to myself “this isn't news”. We all ended up doing what everyone thought we were going to do. Tom, the military-esque hard-worker was working hard, Jeanne and Antoine, the world travelers, were out and about exploring the local venues and cuisine. And Salvador, the incredibly smart and business-how-to guy, was being incredibly smart and teaching his center business-how-to. If I were to describe myself, the scizophrenic and aspiring "most-interesting-man-in-the-world" was out and about doing 50 different projects and trying to be the most interesting boy in Mexico. The rest of the week, we had a few training sessions on various volunteering subjects, like "Promoting Gender Equality",   "Technology for development" and "V²: Volunteers promoting volunteerism".  It was pretty low key, but it was enjoyable. During the week, we had a few lunches together, and to be honest, it was nice just to be back with the ol'gang.

Before I go any further with the story, I need to explain something, my 3 weeks in Querétaro wouldn't make much sense otherwise. Rewind about 6 months, it was the last first few weeks of training in Querétaro and I was still learning basic Spanish, preparing to spend a full 2 years in Mexico. I met her only a few days after arriving , and we had only a basic cordial 'hi, how are you?' relationship for the first few weeks. After all, I had my job and she had hers. But from the beginning, I knew what I wanted to do, but I was just too afraid. Only after several weeks of building up the confidence did I finally had to the courage to try. One day, Putting my game face on, I finally marched up to her and asked the question. That's right, I finally approached the old lady at the Oxxo (Mexican 7-11) and asked to buy a pack of Swinkles, the most delicious spicy-sweet Mexican candy you can imagine. Stringy and soft, crunchy on the outside, juicy on the inside,  with layers upon layers of flavors, and only 9 pesos (~75 cents)! Folks, I've fallen in love. Though I was afraid of having to terminate this budding new love affair, after moving from Querétaro to Puebla, you can imagine how excited I was to see that Swinkles are sold in Puebla, Querétaro, pretty much anywhere in Mexico. I'm already planning a trip to the Yucatán in December, and what luck I have that I'll be able to enjoy the delicious taste of Swinkles anywhere I go. I'm sorry, I'm just so excitied, I had to let the world know! Don't worry, I won't waste any more of your time, it's not like you wanted to hear about the cheap laundromat I found, or about my new girlfriend anyway. 

Where was I? Oh, right, Peace Corps In-Service-Training. On day three, we had an administrative/security/medical Q&A session, in which we were able to take care of any questions on logistics or....  Kidding! Kidding! … Ok, her name is Nadia, and we've been dating for a few months now. She may or may not have been my Spanish teacher in Peace Corps, but due to some stupid peace corps rule a strange lapse in memory, all I can definitely say is that she is a Spanish teacher. She's super cute, she speaks german (did a masters in linguistics), and is the only Mexicana who doesn't like spicy food. Guess that's fair enough, she found the one Gringo who eats habañeros for breakfast. (Not kidding). She lives in Querétaro, so it's a bit of a long distance relationship (~4/5 hours away - Imagine NY to Washington DC with local traffic included). But obviously that gives me plenty of incentive to go back to and be in Querétaro. So, when I had a mandatory week in Querétaro (In-Service-Training), followed by no school in Texmalaquilla and summer vacations at my work-center (INAOE), where would you have expected me to go?

So while I was in Querétaro, both during and after In-service training, as you can expect, Nadia and I went out to a few places. If I were to describe the entire 3 weeks in Querétaro with one word, it'd be "Mexican". Why? Well, the first week we actually went to a Lucha-Libre fight. It was in this old sketchy-looking indoor arena with concrete seats. The stadium was packed with big-fat drunk guys (some with their sons. Aww for father-son bonding) with wifebeaters* shouting curse words together at the top of their lungs. In the midsts of all this was me, and my girlfriend, who was also standing up shouting at the fighters. Apparently the whole experience is supposed to be therapeutic, in that you channel your unbridled rage at Mexican wrestlers and then no more stress.

Look, I'm not a big fan of sports, but I'm open to watching, especially if I'm with friends. Let's put it this way: at the superbowl, I'm less of a "Go team go¨ guy, and more of a "pass the wings" kind of guy. So several days after Lucha Libre, I hear that the Chivas (Guadalajara) are playing Cruz Azul (Mexico City) in Mexican football. Side note, I am proud to say that I know all the names of all the football teams in Mexico, as well as their mascots. In my first week in Mexico, that's all I could discuss with my host father, and that might have been because the word "Mascota" comprised about 5% of my Spanish vocablulary. Anyway, so apparently Nadia is really into football, and is a super huge fan of Chivas (Guadalajara). So like any good boy friend would, I made some BBQ and grilled cheese sliders, microwaved some popcorn, bought some beer, sat down on the couch and watched my girlfriend shout at the TV for 2 hours. If you were wondering, it was a tie (0-0). 

There were some distinctly non-Mexican items on the agenda. There was a Jazz festival in Querétaro that week, so it was fun listening to some live Jazz for free. There's also pretty much a Crepes shop (Crepería sounds better) every odd numbers block, so we took advantage of the bounty to enjoy crepes and coffee for breakfast a couple of times. If you were wondering, if every odd# block has a Creperí­a, what's on the even numbered blocks?  Starbucks. One day, we went to an Indian restaurant so that I could suggest some items on the menu, calling on my vast experience of authentic Indian restaurant style non-authentic Indian food. The food wasn't bad, but I was particularly offended by the 'samosas'. To put it in context, if a sausage wrapped in a tortilla isn't a hot dog, then these weren't samosas. 

On the last weekend, one of her school friends was getting married, so I had the opprtunity to go to a traditional Mexican wedding. So, with a couple of friends, we went to a tiny town/village called Toliman, about an hour outside of Querétaro, where the wedding would take place. The official ceremony of course, was held inside a comparatively small church in the center of town, though in general still huge and gorgeous. As I walked in, it dawned on me that I had never before in my life attended a real church ceremony before. I just followed everyone's lead and sat down at a pew. I'm not trying to exaggerate this, but as an Atheist with a hindu upbringing, what might seem like a normal wedding to you was an hour-long series of strange and bizarre Christian rituals. The priest had a golden cup of wine, and was doing something with it, saying something in Latin, doing some strange formalities, constantly walking back and forth across the altar and reading his tome. We had to get down and kneel on the pews at seemingly random times. I forgot why, but during one part we had to touch the hand of the person to our left,  and everyone then broke into song at some point. I actually said a prayer myself (see mantras), but I threw in Jesus's name into the mix of hindu gods for good measure, I was in church after all. After they got married and everyone left the church, we got out and headed to the fiesta. The after-party was nice, but honestly, the styling made it look less like a marriage, and more like a Quinzceniera, which itself resembles a high-school prom (it took place in what looks like a high-school-gym). Either way, we sat around round tables, and they served us a 5-course meal with drinks. There was nothing super surprising afterwords, just Mariachi for entertainment, followed by Salsa dancing afterwards. The best part, however was the barrels. After dinner was over, and before serving us desert, they plopped down these tiny little barrels on each dinner table. Each barrel came complete with a stand, and it's own little faucet. And what happens when you turn the handle? Tequila comes out! Sounds pretty good right? Here's the best part: you can take them home! Everyone else was sort of amused at my fascination with these take-home barrels. 

But it's my Barrilito! My Barrilito de Tequila to go! God I love Mexico.  At night, after the dancing was over, I carried my little barrel in my arms, and later all the way back to Querétaro, and ultimately to Cholula.  

After the vacations were over, I said goodbye to Nadia and to Querétaro and headed back to Cholula. Back to work, sure that's depressing, but I'm going to be starting some exciting projects soon! Stay tuned!

In the meantime, I'm going to go stare at my barrilito. 

So there I was, digging a latrine while vaccinating 3 babies at the same time, when all of the sudden I had just finished 10 arduous weeks of training with my fellow trainees in Querétaro. To commemorate our “graduation” of sorts, there was a big pomp and circumstance event in which high profile folk from both the US state dept and the Mexican government attended, to watch us take our volunteering oaths. After hearing speeches about Kennedy and the origins of the Peace Corps, all the trainees were invited up to stand up in front of a large audience, and take our volunteering oaths, as dictated by the US embassador’s liason. Committing to serve in the Peace Corps 2 years in México, I was given an official handshake, and official Peace Corps pin and official hors d’ouvres for lunch. With that, as well as a few goodbyes to my fellow newbie volunteers, I was off with my bags from Querétaro, México to my official worksite of Tonanzintla, Puebla, México to live for the next 2 years.

Peace Corps México is not your traditional Peace Corps program. Like China, Indonesia and some countries in eastern Europe, the Peace Corps in México has a fairly specialized program. As much as I wanted to live in a mud hut and dig ditches in Senegal, I was assigned to México because I have “unique-skills”. I wasn’t assigned to live in a poor village and I wasn’t given a community counterpart. I was assigned to a high-profile science/research center (INAOE) in Mexico, and my counterpart has an MBA from Texas A&M. Believe me, if you raised an eyebrow over the Peace Corps even being in México, I was suffering an entire existential crisis over me even being in Mexico. For heaven’s sake, I just quit working at a pretty good science research center in the US, and I certainly wasn’t keen on doing anything like science work when I applied to the Peace Corps. So, why am I here? Well, INAOE has this new initiative, which is basically Tech transfer for social good. What does that mean in English? It means using science and technology to improve the lives of the poor. It involves numerous factors, including science and research, community development and community participation, engineering design and business planning to develop products, processes and sustainable solutions that will help the poor (the hope is that solutions achieve the trifecta of economic, social and environmental development). There are numerous different types of ventures already, including social entrepeneurship, appropriate technologies, engineers without borders, all of which are part of this broader initiative.

So, what does this mean for what I’ll actually be doing? Well, so it means that I live near INAOE, the research facility located in the Cholula area of the state of Puebla (in the far west of the state). I then commute to a set of rural mountain villages in the municipality of Aztiztintla, Puebla, located about 2 hours away by bus, and stay for 2-4 days a week. While I’m in the villages, I’m working on community development projects, teaching at the local schools and in the future, setting up real eco-technical projects. When I’m back at INAOE, I’m working on more admin stuff (like filling out grants to fund these projects, talking with my counterpart on weekly planning, talking to researchers) as well as teaching science in the high-schools around INAOE. Later I’ll give you a more detailed description of where I live, what my work and living conditions are like, and how I end up integrating into Mexican culture (both urban, and in the villages). I kind of want to start a band, or join the concheros (Native American dance troupes) to justify wearing a fake Jaguar pelt on my head. For now, all you need to know is that I’m living in a place called Cholula, Puebla, which is like a typical developing world suburban community (yeah there’s cable internet, but there’s also donkeys and chickens on the street).

I hope this double-post is enough to satisfy you for a while- I know just how often you refresh your browsers on this webpage to find out the latest about my adventures. However, I’m not going to post anything more until I do an over-haul of the website. Now that I’m no longer in training and have some free time, I have time to work rework the code for the website and add all the bells and whistles and goodies that you folks deserve.

Cheers,

Sam

Many hundreds of years ago, when Europe was still suffering the plague and the Khans still ruled China, there existed a powerful new civilization called the Aztecs, who ruled vast swathes of Mesoamerica from their island capital in the valley of México. As with any great empire, they levied taxes, conscripted soldiers and dominated their subjects with the harsh rule of law. And, as with any great empire, there were many dissidents. Not far from the capital, in the chiefdom of Tlaxcala, the Tlaxcaltecas grew weary of their Aztec oppressors. In one year, the great chief, whose name has since been forgotten to history, started a rebellion against the Aztecs, to regain the sovereignty and freedom for the Tlaxcaltec people.

Not long before the war, the great chief had a beautiful young daughter named Iztaccuihatl. As the years went by, the rebellion dragged on and the battles grew bloodier. Raised in wartime, Iztaccuihuatl eventually grew up to become the most beautiful princess in all of Mesoamerica, a symbol of the people and the infatuation of all the men in the cheifdom. As she came of age, she took an eye to one of the Chief’s bravest and handsomest warriors, Popocatéptl. Iztaccuihuatl and Popocatéptl soon fell in love, so much so that soon before leaving for war again Popocatépetl asked the Chief for his daughter’s hand in marriage. The great chief admired Popocatéptl, and so he asked the warrior to go out to battle and return victorious with the heart of an Aztec; if he could do this, he could have the Chief’s hand in marriage.

The brave warrior accepted this offer, and with naught but love in his heart, he went off to battle for his beloved Iztaccuihuatl. Unbeknownst to him, a rival warrior also wished for Izta’s hand in marriage, and so during the long and arduous battles, this rival returned home early in an attempt to win her over. He recounted the false tale of Popo’s tragic death, so that he may eventually have his chance with her. The princess, however, was so crushed with tragedy and overwhelmed by sadness that she died of grief, never aware that her true love was still alive. Weeks had passed and Popocateptl returned to Tlaxcala victorious from battle, with the heart of an Aztec, ready to reunite with his beloved princess. When he learned of her tragic death, he too was stricken with grief. He carried her body many miles outside of the Chiefdom, where he built a great stone shrine, upon which he placed her still body. He kissed her dead lips one last time, and to make sure he would never lose her again, he stood watch over her shrine, guarding her until he too died. Moved by their story, the gods came together to perform a miracle for the dead lovers. They turned Iztaccihuatl’s temple into a grand mountain, and turned her body to stone, covered in a blanket of snow, so that she may rest for all eternity. Next, they turned Popocatéptl into a grand volcano, a great stone sentinel, so that he may watch over his beloved for all eternity.

As centuries passed, and the nation of México as we know it grew up around these two volcanoes, the old Nauhuatl legend passed into local folklore. The two great mountains still dominate the landscape of south-central México, and are not just prominent parts of the backdrop, but also integral parts of the culture. The people here still say that the smoke and lava that are emitted from Popocatéptl are symbols of the warrior’s anger and jealousy, over the death of his true love. If you know what you’re looking for, you’ll quickly find that the dead civilizations of Mesoamerica are not quite so dead, and that Mexican culture isn’t quite so simple.

Somewhere in Mexico: A slight breeze kicks up dust in a vast open and desolate field, gray grass spanning from horizon to horizon, with only the sun and distant mountain backdrop to keep the scant wildlife company. Approaching at approximately 112 km/hour, heading several degrees north of due West is a lone brown Toyota SUV, driving on the only paved road around for 50 km. As the rev of the engine gets louder, a noticeable metallic clank can be heard from the back of the automobile. In its trunk: A large metal gas container full of pressurized Oxygen. The sole two passengers of the vehicle sit stoicly, arms out the window, watching the scenery and listening to The Strokes.

So by this point we were about 2 hours outside of the city of Puebla, way too far out to see our “friends” Popo and Ixta in the background. I was staring at the Sierra Madres up ahead, it seemed almost exactly like seeing the Rockies from the great-plains. As awe struck as I could have been, I had a job to do here in Mexico, and I really wanted to know what that job was. In my hand I held a lone sheet of paper which I’d been holding onto for some weeks. Somewhat of a revered artifact to me, I had long since memorized the only 3 important lines in the whole document.

1. Work on social development projects with the poor mountain communities of Atzitzintla
2. Help the social outreach team with science and technology outreach in the communities
3. Work on Eco-technical projects for the economic development of the communities, and involve the community in development of the projects.

I held it tight because it captures a dream I had, the dream that I might actually be doing something good for humanity, a dream I always go back to when I ask myself why I’m in Mexico. Interrupted from my day-dreaming, Jason pointed a large mountain in the distance, which once it came into view, quickly dominated the backdrop. I knew that that’s where we’d be going , but I had no idea how long it’d take to get there.

The majority of Mexico is dominated by its central geographic feature: the Altiplano, an expansive plane which lies 5,000 feet above sea level, and through which several mountain ranges run. On the western edge of the Altiplano, the highlands slowly descend towards the Pacific coast, resulting in vast swathes of semi-tropical mountainous forests. On the eastern edge of the altiplano, the highlands build up to an impressive mountain range of some of the tallest mountains in North America (including Pico de Orizaba, 3rd tallest in the continent), before steeply dropping down to sea level and the Atlantic Coast. The warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico bring immense amounts of moisture inland from the Atlantic coast, but the mountain barrier forces all the moisture to precipitate along the coast and the foothills, resulting in the luscious tropic jungles of the state of Veracruz. Just on the other side of this mountain range, and this tropical jungle turns into the dry parched grasslands of the state of Puebla. Dominated by the rain shadow effect, the people living just west of the mountains in depend on a separate weather phenomenon to bring brief but intense summer rainstorms (the only thing keeping the region from becoming outright desert).

As we left the main road and drove into the town of Serdan, grassy foothills quickly transformed into narrow streets and 2 story buildings. Yet even in town, the landscape dominated; everything was dwarfed by the spectacular mountainous backdrop. The two peaks of Pico de Orizaba and Sierra Negra were clearly visible from any point in town, and one could even clearly see the giant telescope atop the latter. We managed to work our way towards an odd looking white and blue building, aka “Hotel Base Camp” where we were apparently making a pit stop. As indicated by the logo in front of the gates, it was owned by INAOE, the government organization which is sponsoring me to help with PR community outreach, in the poor communities around their fancy telescope. Normally used by their own scientists and employees as a way-station before heading up to work at the telescope, it also happens to be my go-to place for free lodging and free food in town. After dropping off a giant canister of oxygen we were carrying in the back of the trunk, we picked up some sandwiches from the nice lady and were back on the road.

About 15 minutes out of town, we turned onto a side-road labeled “Atzitzintla” , which marked the beginning of our ascent up Sierra Negra. Note that the foot of the mountain was already about 8000 feet above sea level. Scattered along the side of this dusty winding road were abandoned stone shacks and several tiny farms. It wasn’t long before we saw the first farmer herding his goats on the road, a novelty which quickly became old. After passing several mysterious modern-ish stone towers, each sporting long flowing red banners with the communist party logo on them, we turned into the main town of Atitzintla itself, a tiny quaint mountain town of no-more than 3,000 people. The size and structure of the town seemed oddly reminiscent of your average “any-town USA”, complete with a main street and abandoned/dilapidated storefronts. The town honestly didn’t strike me as particularly impoverished, just small and rural, though there seemed to be an air of depression/gloom in the eyes of the townsfolk. We didn’t stay long, only enough to briefly meet our agency’s only point of contact in town.

In contrast with the grassy sloping terrain lay an expansive flat patch of earth, upon which resided a small tin-walled shack. A small clothesline hung from the tin roof of this shack to a nearby wooden post, and the colorful hanging clothes on this line brought a modest amount of vibrancy to an otherwise drab and gray landscape. The dirt patch, presumably the front yard of this house, was populated by a donkey, a dog and a very old truck. Their only link to civilization: a winding dirt road running in front of their house. Several hundred feet down this road lay a group of similarly looking houses, while several hundred feet up this road lay a long yellow building with broken windows and a shallow red roof. On the whole of the walls of this dilapidated yellow building, if one this stood out, it was a small white sign which read “Centro comunitaro de Texmalaquilla”. As the 2-pm sun cast isolated rays of light through the dusty building’s broken windows, a vehicle could be heard approaching the kindergarten. The car’s presence was given away not by the rev of its engine, but by the sound of its tires rolling on dirt and gravel. As it approached the school it stopped for just a moment, attracting the eyes of several men in jeans and faded t-shirts, who happened to be leaning against wall, scrutinizing the vehicle which had just interrupted their conversation. And with just enough eye contact to acknowledge their existence, the brown SUV continued its course, meandering up the winding dirt road.

I wasn’t feeling lightheaded, but climbing a small hill was enough to get me panting. In all seriousness, it really was the last step that did it for me. As it finally came into view, the mountains and clouds beneath our feet, the vista from the Roof of Mexico was the only thing that took my breath away that day. At 14,000 feet up, our dominance over the landscape below was challenged only by the Pico de Orizaba, the ever present sentinel of the Sierra Madres.

Having climbed to the roof of Mexico, seemingly only to eat lunch and watch the vista below, Jason and I returned for a long deserved rest back in HQ (Puebla). Driving back east across the altiplano, we were greeted once again by our friends Popo and Ixta, the two volcanoes that dominate the backdrop of the city of Puebla. Tired from our trek and need of rest, Jason and I did the only sensible thing: Party! Luckily for us, fellow Volunteer Tessa had her birthday that night, and so our long journey up the mountain was rightly concluded with salsa dancing, cake and Colombian rum. Meeting and greeting what seemed to be half of Cholula, we ended the night outside on the grass, drinking and telling stories by candle light.