Living in Mexico
Adventures in Teaching
My career led me to Mexico in 2012 and I spent that school year experiencing Mexico and what it has to offer. In Pachuca I joined a multi-national staff at American School of Pachuca to teach academics to children and adolescents. Did I only teach English? No, I taught language arts, math, science and social studies in English to support the acquisition of English to Spanish speaking children.
For the 2012 Christmas break, I went to the beach in Oaxaca. I stayed in the tiny fishing village of Puerto Ángel on the Pacific Riviera. My destination was awash with sun, sand and relaxation. A token tree sparkled beside the pool and paid homage to the season, which I was only vaguely aware of. It was perfect.
Centro in Pachuca is renowned for the Reloj Monumental, an ornate clock designed by the creator of Big Ben, according to locals. Nearby is Plaza Revolución with a statue of Miguel Hidalgo, the padre who led revolutionaries to victory. Plenty of combi vans, or colectivos, provided transportation whenever I wanted to visit Centro, and when I wasn't teaching or planning lessons, I met friends for sightseeing, shopping and eating in the Mercado.
Varmints
Any blog about Mexico must discuss insects, arachnids and reptiles. Now you would think that such creatures, common as they are, don’t alarm school children. Think again. Any critter with wiggly legs and bulging eyes does produce shrieks, howls and screams. Before the first day of school, I decorated the walls and arranged work stations in my classroom. A teacher stopped by to chat and see if I needed anything. On her way out she said, “Oh, don’t worry about the scorpions. Just leave them alone and they'll find their way back outside.” Hold on there! Scorpions? You mean those things with the stingers and pinchers—in my classroom? Nonchalantly she added, “You don’t need to worry about the little ones, they’re harmless.” I knew there was one more question I should have asked before signing my teaching contract—the one about occupational hazards related to living in a desert. The kids know about them, yet the first time we spotted one inside, it was instant bedlam. Because I’m the calm, mature adult, I had to coax the thing out the door. It was my first up close encounter with a real, live scorpion.
Hunting
At home, my cat discovered little geckos outside in the garden, no bigger than a finger. In rapt attention, she’d watch a blade of grass rustle. Suddenly, she’d arch into the air and then trounce a teeny lizard. Her prize wiggled between her teeth. Nor can we forget the ubiquitous cockroaches.
My expert hunter knew just when to expect a cockroach in the house because she could hear them scurrying outside. She watched until one wandered under the door and the fun began. Though well fed and not the least bit hungry, she quivered, then played boomerang the cockroach until there was nothing more to do but eat it.
Drinking
Speaking of insects, if they aren’t crawling around your classroom, house, or buzzing in your ear, they’re in your mezcal. It’s referred to as con gusano when the worm is present and it’s actually a larva of some kind. All sorts of lore exists about what it does: it’s a digestive aid, it adds flavor, it cures what ails you. I can attest that the taste of mezcal isn’t any different when there’s a worm in it. I don’t really like mezcal in the first place because it’s too smoky and I was disappointed that the worm didn’t improve the flavor.
After visiting Oaxaca and seeing how mezcal is made, I understand where the smokiness comes from. They remove leaves from the gigantic core of the maguey plant, then heap several of them into a big pit. The pit is lined with hot rocks that smoke the maguey under a layer of leaves and dirt. Once the smoking process is done, they retrieve the charred plants, mash them into a pulp and then squeeze out all the juice. The squeezing part is done the old-fashioned way, with a mule pulling a heavy millstone. From there the juice ferments and eventually gets bottled. While this was an interesting diversion, it didn’t change my opinion of mezcal. Give me tequila over mezcal any day.
Driving: Not For the Faint Of Heart
Taking the Drivers Examination
After about 2 1/2 hours of waiting in line, I took the silly test. I guessed most of the answers because there was nothing for me to study. Someone stood by to help translate things I didn't understand clearly. It was mostly common sense, easy. The hardest part was the eye examination. Apparently, Mexican officials are more concerned that your vision is top notch because it left me bleary-eyed and fatigued. Thanks to corrective lenses, I was issued my Licencia Para Conducir on the spot.
Sporty. Streamlined. Quick.
This was one awesome car and I still miss it. My Renault Clio. I loved to slip in and out of traffic in this beastie. But I digress; let's talk about taxis.
Then I bought my car. Suddenly I had to learn road signs like ceda el paso, topes, concede cambio de luces, caseta de cobro, plaza de cobro, ceda el paso al peatón, carril izquierdo solo para rebasar, obedezca las señales, no rebase, conserve su distancia, conserve su derecha, entronque próximo, and this one I really like, maneje con precaución su familia le espera (drive with care, your family is waiting). Once I figured out what a caseta de cobro was, then I had to be prepared to give the correct amount of money at the toll booth. The meaning of signs didn’t happen overnight, I pondered them until the important ones became clear—after a couple months!
I loved the freedom of my tiny Clio. I bought it because it was French and cute. I soon discovered it was great on gas mileage (tanque lleno por favor) and easy to maneuver in traffic. Although, being shoulder to shoulder with semis in early morning darkness was not a good feeling. Out on the edge of the city, I taught execs at the industrial park and drove a crowded highway in white knuckle terror. Remembering that my family was waiting helped me take it easy.
My career led me to Mexico in 2012 and I spent that school year experiencing Mexico and what it has to offer. In Pachuca I joined a multi-national staff at American School of Pachuca to teach academics to children and adolescents. Did I only teach English? No, I taught language arts, math, science and social studies in English to support the acquisition of English to Spanish speaking children.
For the 2012 Christmas break, I went to the beach in Oaxaca. I stayed in the tiny fishing village of Puerto Ángel on the Pacific Riviera. My destination was awash with sun, sand and relaxation. A token tree sparkled beside the pool and paid homage to the season, which I was only vaguely aware of. It was perfect.
 |
| Puerto Angel, Oaxaca |
Centro in Pachuca is renowned for the Reloj Monumental, an ornate clock designed by the creator of Big Ben, according to locals. Nearby is Plaza Revolución with a statue of Miguel Hidalgo, the padre who led revolutionaries to victory. Plenty of combi vans, or colectivos, provided transportation whenever I wanted to visit Centro, and when I wasn't teaching or planning lessons, I met friends for sightseeing, shopping and eating in the Mercado.
 |
| Reloj Monumental |
Any blog about Mexico must discuss insects, arachnids and reptiles. Now you would think that such creatures, common as they are, don’t alarm school children. Think again. Any critter with wiggly legs and bulging eyes does produce shrieks, howls and screams. Before the first day of school, I decorated the walls and arranged work stations in my classroom. A teacher stopped by to chat and see if I needed anything. On her way out she said, “Oh, don’t worry about the scorpions. Just leave them alone and they'll find their way back outside.” Hold on there! Scorpions? You mean those things with the stingers and pinchers—in my classroom? Nonchalantly she added, “You don’t need to worry about the little ones, they’re harmless.” I knew there was one more question I should have asked before signing my teaching contract—the one about occupational hazards related to living in a desert. The kids know about them, yet the first time we spotted one inside, it was instant bedlam. Because I’m the calm, mature adult, I had to coax the thing out the door. It was my first up close encounter with a real, live scorpion.
 |
| Pachuca, Hidalgo |
At home, my cat discovered little geckos outside in the garden, no bigger than a finger. In rapt attention, she’d watch a blade of grass rustle. Suddenly, she’d arch into the air and then trounce a teeny lizard. Her prize wiggled between her teeth. Nor can we forget the ubiquitous cockroaches.
My expert hunter knew just when to expect a cockroach in the house because she could hear them scurrying outside. She watched until one wandered under the door and the fun began. Though well fed and not the least bit hungry, she quivered, then played boomerang the cockroach until there was nothing more to do but eat it.
 |
| Mineral del Chico |
Speaking of insects, if they aren’t crawling around your classroom, house, or buzzing in your ear, they’re in your mezcal. It’s referred to as con gusano when the worm is present and it’s actually a larva of some kind. All sorts of lore exists about what it does: it’s a digestive aid, it adds flavor, it cures what ails you. I can attest that the taste of mezcal isn’t any different when there’s a worm in it. I don’t really like mezcal in the first place because it’s too smoky and I was disappointed that the worm didn’t improve the flavor.
After visiting Oaxaca and seeing how mezcal is made, I understand where the smokiness comes from. They remove leaves from the gigantic core of the maguey plant, then heap several of them into a big pit. The pit is lined with hot rocks that smoke the maguey under a layer of leaves and dirt. Once the smoking process is done, they retrieve the charred plants, mash them into a pulp and then squeeze out all the juice. The squeezing part is done the old-fashioned way, with a mule pulling a heavy millstone. From there the juice ferments and eventually gets bottled. While this was an interesting diversion, it didn’t change my opinion of mezcal. Give me tequila over mezcal any day.
Driving: Not For the Faint Of Heart
It’s an adventure unlike any other. I’ll
admit right here that dawdling drivers push my hot button. I like to get where
I’m going and not waste time. With that said, if you like to use the gas pedal,
like me, driving in Mexico is liberating and a bit of a thrill. Lines on
the road are suggestions, stop signs decorations, and most folks ignore
them. They've perfected the California stop. Let’s say you’re at a traffic signal—be
prepared for a chorus of horns if you aren’t already in the intersection at the
green light. The trick is to watch the light for cross traffic and prime the engine
so you’re halfway through on green. No one waits for the green light. Another
trick is bluffing. When you know the light is turning, you have the right to
start moving into the intersection and those other cars better wait. It’s a game of dare.
Now let’s talk about turns. Never, ever expect
people to turn one car at a time. If there’s a turn lane and even a turn signal
for one lane, it doesn’t matter. Three cars can all turn at the same time regardless
of the lane or signal. It’s the implied rule. Whoever is in the center usually
has the best position and the other car(s) hang back about half a car length.
You all go through the turn together and somehow it works.
If you’re at a signal and about to turn, don’t be surprised if a taxi rolls
up and squeezes in front of you. Always abide by this rule: yield to taxis. Taxis do whatever they want because it's their living, after all. Don’t sweat it. Taxis
cut people off, create new lanes, make U turns and run through stops routinely. But you'll never see one pulled over for a ticket; it doesn’t happen.
But I often got
miffed when a car ahead of me straddled two lanes, making it difficult to get past him. You have every right to honk in this case and I did. Another time I
was sitting at a light in the left lane going straight ahead. A car on my right
made a LEFT turn in front of me. Be warned: if a car needs to turn and you're in the way, they will simply cut in. People also drive with their
horns a lot, and after a while you understand why. It’s accident
prevention and warns other drivers of your position and intention. A beep on
the horn can mean you’re passing; it can also caution a driver entering a
roadway. Sometimes it just means get out of the way. And if you dare to drive in Mexico City, watch out!
Taking the Drivers Examination
After about 2 1/2 hours of waiting in line, I took the silly test. I guessed most of the answers because there was nothing for me to study. Someone stood by to help translate things I didn't understand clearly. It was mostly common sense, easy. The hardest part was the eye examination. Apparently, Mexican officials are more concerned that your vision is top notch because it left me bleary-eyed and fatigued. Thanks to corrective lenses, I was issued my Licencia Para Conducir on the spot.
Sporty. Streamlined. Quick.
This was one awesome car and I still miss it. My Renault Clio. I loved to slip in and out of traffic in this beastie. But I digress; let's talk about taxis.
Taxis
Some of the
friendliest people in Mexico are taxi drivers, unless they can’t figure out
what you’re saying. More than once I had to walk away from a ride because the
driver couldn’t understand Spangilsh. With my awful Spanish I’d repeat
everything three times, hoping my driver would get it, then finally accept
defeat and get out of the car. Some taxi drivers knew a little English and wanted
to practice so we chattered away until we exhausted our repertoire of foreign
words and rode in silence. Direction words were the first and most important
words I learned: Vuelta a la derecha, izquierda, derecho por favor. These could
get me home from anywhere. Then I bought my car. Suddenly I had to learn road signs like ceda el paso, topes, concede cambio de luces, caseta de cobro, plaza de cobro, ceda el paso al peatón, carril izquierdo solo para rebasar, obedezca las señales, no rebase, conserve su distancia, conserve su derecha, entronque próximo, and this one I really like, maneje con precaución su familia le espera (drive with care, your family is waiting). Once I figured out what a caseta de cobro was, then I had to be prepared to give the correct amount of money at the toll booth. The meaning of signs didn’t happen overnight, I pondered them until the important ones became clear—after a couple months!
I loved the freedom of my tiny Clio. I bought it because it was French and cute. I soon discovered it was great on gas mileage (tanque lleno por favor) and easy to maneuver in traffic. Although, being shoulder to shoulder with semis in early morning darkness was not a good feeling. Out on the edge of the city, I taught execs at the industrial park and drove a crowded highway in white knuckle terror. Remembering that my family was waiting helped me take it easy.
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