Author: bochnerfamilyadventure

Feeling, ambivalent, again on the precipice of change.  Excited to go back to Portland,  aggrieved to leave.  Less than one week left.  Our definition of home has morphed and become very flexible.  Home is anywhere we can unpack for more than a week.  I am feeling anxious to gather and hoard Spanish words, and learn as much as I can before I am among English speakers again.  I am nervous about culture shock once we arrive back in the States.  Simultaneously I want to share all of our daily experiences with others and yet keep it a secret.  Our simple walk across town to painting class, drinking Tejate on the way…our normal every day actions are sacred and numbered. At any moment our trip could be interrupted by a parade, protest or funeral procession.  The unexpected as become expected, however it is still delightful.

We are shedding our belongings again, making piles to donate to the church across the street. We will give our yoga mat to the man who sleeps nightly on cardboard on the church steps.  It is full cycle as we did the same before we left for this trip.  Letting go of our belongings, saying goodbye to friends and experiences.  The buddhist practice of sand painting, a metaphor for the profound beauty of the present and temporary nature of life.  This idea has become real and tangible for us, stability and the future are only an illusion that we all indulge in.

It is surreal that our year has passed.  Our experiences in Asia seem so far away, yet I remember clearly boarding the plane in NYC on route to Singapore.  I have numerous blog entries about life in Oaxaca that are not complete and somehow our “normal” life here in Mexico makes blogging difficult.  We go roller skating in the park, eat empanadas at the street stands, go to the Oaxaca Lending Library and look for real paper books to read (Addie is currently rereading the Hunger Games Trilogy), go to the dentist, school, do laundry…our days pass in a blur.  I struggle to capture, retain and keep the sights, sounds and smells for later.

However, I know that time has a way of consuming and swallowing, and these experiences, while becoming apart of my physical and mental fabric, will move into the past.  Through this forum I am able to gather my thoughts and photos, knowing that in the future I will be able to read these words and look at these photos to spark the memory of our life here.

There is no better salve for the soul than reconnecting with a best friend.  Sitting on the couch, talking about our lives, the ease and comfort of being with someone who knows and accepts you.  One of my very best friends, Jamie Brown visited us in Oaxaca for a week.  Over the past year she has come to our rescue, running interference with disgruntled neighbors, keeping an eye on our landscaping, loaning us money when unexpected tax bills arrived.  Talking to her via FB Messenger over WiFi kept me sane over the past year when serious waves of loneliness swept my experience.  She listened to our stories about travel from far away lands and read our blog avidly.

Over the past week we have blackened our feet while exploring the city, visiting markets outside of town, shopped for hand-woven textiles and sipped Tejate from hollowed out gourds painted red.  I have shown her the city of Oaxaca and she understands why we love it so.

When we return to Portland in just over two weeks, she is providing a soft landing, allowing us to stay with her until the Sabbatical home that we are renting is available in September.  She is the one that gives me career advice, edits my cover letters and showers me with confidence when I waver in self-doubt.  While we traveled the world this past year, she also created a new reality for herself, divorcing after many years of marriage.  She navigated the open water of a new beginning by herself.  She has leapt into the unknown and has applied herself fearlessly to the task of finding out what makes her and her boys whole.  I watch and listen in awe as she walks forth with her head held high and eyes clear.  Such courage is to be admired.

I believe that we surround ourselves and are drawn towards others that possess characteristics that we lack and aspire to have.  I value this mirror in reverse.  It is the loving education that the universe strives to provide and we need only pay attention and enjoy the instructive light shown by others.  Thank you Jamie for being our rock this past year and I hope to know you until we are old and wrinkly.

To get some fresh air and interrupt our city life, in early July we decided to visit the Sierra Norte, the high hills north of Oaxaca.  The Pueblos Mancomunados (translated as “joint villages”) are a series of eight villages that are linked by 100 km of foot paths.

The forested highlands are rich in biodiversity, home to 350 species of butterflies.  Even though we did not see any, pumas and jaguars live there.  About 30 years ago the communities decided to turn to eco tourism and preserve the forested land that the Zapotec and Chinautec communities have occupied for centuries.  Eight villages are part of this project and have built cabins, maintain paths and provide guides for avid hikers.  We visited three pueblos and hiked from each of them.  Cuajimoloyas was at an elevation of 3200 meters which we felt with every step.  Thinking that our trek in the Himalayas prepared us, we were not concerned about the elevation or difficulty.  However, I struggled.  Of course, I was hiking with a broken big toe (results of slipping and stubbing against hard on brick steps one week before).  Having become an avid runner in Oaxaca, Cork had no issues.  It was challenging for Addie and at one point as she sat crying, only wanting to rest, our kind 75-year-old guide warned in Spanish that if we stopped for long the hungry coyotes would find her.  Addie did not appreciate his advice.

We stayed in rustic cabins and spent our time playing cards and breathing in the crisp air.  It is quiet in the high hills of the Sierra Norte and even though this is “high season” for tourists, we saw very few.  We put all our clothes on and bundled under the covers as the cabins had no insulation and it got very cold at night, even in July.  We lit a fire, but since the chimney was not maintained, our cabin filled with smoke, necessitating us to open the windows, which kind of defeated the purpose of the fire in the first place.

The food was simple and hearty.  There was one comedor that we would get our meals from in each village.  There are no menus or prices.  The women of the house tell you what they are serving and you choose from those daily options.  Every exchange is done in Spanish.  The quality of the meal depends on what is being served and who is cooking it.  For the most part the food was tasty and reasonably priced.  Our meals consisted of beans, meat, eggs, queso, tortillas and rice.  For dessert they would serve jello or sweetcrackers with jam.  Coffee was weak and milky, but hot chocolate was rich with cinnamon.

Although we had a rich experience and were proud of our accomplishments, it was a relief of sorts to return to our apartment in Oaxaca.

We attended a local baseball game in Oaxaca with our friends Nichole and Steve.  The Guerreros de Oaxaca are a Triple-A Minor League Baseball team which plays in the Mexican League in Oaxaca.  About 60 peso entry ($3) and like all baseball games, drank buckets of beer and ate nuts.  Although the difference here was there was sweet chili salt on the rim of my waxed paper beer cup and dried fish mixed into the pistachios.  We had a great time enjoying a very local experience!

We celebrated Jackson’s 13th Birthday yesterday!  We have found friends in Oaxaca.  Nicole and Steve are traveling by RV in Mexico and have brought their 11 yo son Ryder.  Jack and Ryder have bonded over video games, weird noises and general mayhem.  We have also reconnected with a family we met in Vietnam and in Thailand,  Vaida and Ali, with thier two children Poppy and Johny.  It seems like only yesterday we were meeting for the first time in Hanoi!  It was a festive day full of sugar, good food, monopoly and pinata fun.  I am sure Jack will remember his 13th in Oaxaca!

A good party ends with tired kids, often in tears.  Too much sugar, high emotions, fun had by all.  A success.

Two weeks ago we did not know Erika and Ben, along with their two girls Lottie and Zell. Today we say goodbye to our new best friends that we will undoubtedly know until we are old and our kids are grown. 

From day one, meeting at our language school we have shared meals, gone on field trips, played Uno and basically spent all our time together.  Even though this is not a family traveling long    term, only spending two weeks in Oaxaca to improve their Spanish, their energy and attitude match the most positive traveling families we met on route.  Worldly, they lived a year in New Zealand and before kids travelled extensively in south america, living in Chiapas for 6 months.  Ben is a doctor and Erika is a nurse practitioner in a women’s health clinic.  They work and live in Santa Fe, and all of Erika’s patients speak Spanish.

They have two children, Hazel (7) and Charlotte (10).  Lottie is mature beyond her years and her speech pops with world statistics.  She circles topics like global warming and human rights handily.  However, despite her precociousness, she can be goofy and fun-loving.  Jackson describes Zell as a “ball of goodness” and is energetic, enthusiastic and sincere.  Both girls are whip-smart.  Our children matched well and played endless games of chess, Uno and staged competitions of Poker Chip cakes. Modeled after the show, the Great British Bake Off, they judged the towers of chips for presentation, shape and color.  It was like a two-week sleepover.

We spent almost two weeks hanging out.  Needing to move out of their apartment early they ended up finding an apartment in our complex and the kids were able to run back and forth, both of our doors open.  Before moving in Erika was worried about being in our “hula hoop.”  Even though I had not heard the term before, I knew what she meant.  Traveling for a year, we have lost the hesitancy that accompanies good manners.  Life is too short to play it cool.  We are all in, and if you are out, that’s okay.  Finding kindred spirits on this journey is magic.  It was an absolute joy to share our time in Mexico with this incredible family.  We miss them!

It feels a little unsettled here.  Mexican history is rich with struggle.  The right to resist and protest is highly valued in this country. Fight is woven into the very fabric of people’s personal story and lives.  Mexico has been populated by indigenous societies for 13000 years.  To understand current Mexico, we are learning about the recent story of Mexico.  Mind boggling and confusing, here is a very brief synopsis.  Over 300 years of brutal Spanish colonization ending in 1821, war and loss of vast territory to the US in 1846 and ending with a brief French monarchy in the 1860s.  With less foreign intervention, Mexico struggled to govern, and although the Mexican constitution of 1857 codified many liberal principles of equality and land rights, the document was not enforced.  Until the people revolted in 1910 the corrupt few lead the government and ran Mexico like a feudal system, working the majority of Mexicans like slaves in large Haciendas, much like plantations.  People bent at the behest of the whip, no choice but to work gathering sugar cane and corn. They were paid $.25 a day.  The majority of Mexicans were poor, uneducated and desperate.

During the 1900s, violent uprisings and government retaliation marked the majority of that century with war of some sort.  Local heroes like Pancho Villa and Zapata led the people to gather strength in arms.  They started the battle cry and fought for resources and better lives.  After the Mexican Revolution in 1921, the newly appointed Secretary of Education embarked on an ambitious campaign to educate the masses through large painted murals on building walls.  Diego Rivera worked on majestic murals on the hallways of the National Palace depicting Mexico’s history.  He worked on these walls for 13 years told the story of Mexico from 1521 to 1930 in vibrant images and detailed vignettes of the people. The massive walls envelop the audience pictures, devoid of words but loud with meaning.

The mural program’s goal was to promote the principles of the Mexican Revolution and the identity of Mexico as a mestizo nation.  A nation where ethnically diverse indigenous and Spanish people live, work and prosper together.  The art movement and legacy of mural painting was strong from the 1920s to 1950 and paralleled Mexico’s transformation from a rural illiterate society to an industrialized one.  The essential value was that art should be public and available to the citizenry.  Towards the 1950s Mexico’s leadership became more conservative and capitalistic, and  moved away from this goal.  Murals were commissioned by the wealthy and only available to patrons of theaters and hotels.  Today on the walls of buildings in Oaxaca there are examples of how this tradition is alive and well and the paint brush has been co-opted by young activists.

For the last 70 years, the PRI party has been in power and the wealth disparity has widened tremendously.  The longstanding war on drugs has intensified, many innocent are caught in the crossfire and billions of dollars have been spent.  The country’s economic polarization has increased criminal activity especially among the poor, which includes most of the country’s population. The minimum wage today is 80 pesos ($4) for an eight-hour work day.  Increased tension with the US along its borders and the bellicose rants of President Trump elevate the racist hum of injustice focused on Mexican Americans and those travelling across borders fleeing violence and poverty.  They are jailed, separated from their children and corralled like animals in a warehouse awaiting an unknown destiny. The cruelty that humans are capable is stupefying.

Assassination has been the way this country deals with opposition in politics.  Shooting people in the head, in broad daylight has a long historical precedence.  This being a political year, over 80 politicians have been shot since September.  Many killed are young adults in their 20s, running for local office or council positions.  The violence stems from many sources and it is difficult to know who are the exact perpetrators. The police, being part of this broken corrupt system are unable or unwilling to investigate.  Mexico is Latin Americas’s most dangerous country to be a journalist according to the Global Criminality Index 2016, with over 42 killed in 2017.  Speaking the truth is a death sentence.  The uptick in political violence is said to be perpetrated by crime bosses that are looking to install friendly lawmakers in local government.  The sparks of this current explosion in violence was unknowingly lit by the United States when it dismantled large cartels and splintered the established crime syndicates.  When is America going to learn the dangers of a power vacuum?  In addition, the US strategy of deporting gang members back to Mexico has fueled the fire by adding more experienced criminals to this hot mess.  Now, newcomers are competing to out-savage each other and intimidate each other as well as local government.

In July there is an election for president.  Some say it is the most important election in 70 years.  It is expected that the people will elect Andres Manual Lopez Obrador (AMLO), the Morena candidate, a left-wing Labor Party candidate who believes in dismantling corruption and redistributing wealth.  Red scare tactics, attacking AMLO for being like Hugo Chavez and potentially ruining the Mexican economy are abound.  The peso has dropped in value in the last two months.  AMLO, a populist, is a grassroots politician of humble backgrounds and is known to be a man of his word and a man of the people.  Currently in national polls he has over 50% of the vote.  Like Zapata and Pancho Villa, his stature is taking on mythical proportions and he is the hope of the people for real change.  If the powers that be obstruct his election, I fear that the tiger will be let out and the people will march in the streets once again.

I am finding it difficult to write about our life. Our everyday.  Perhaps when the extraordinary normalizes it is hard to share, as routine and sameness blend the days and appear unremarkable.  However, I will plow through this wall and if nothing less I have a journal of our experience to enhance our memory years to come.

We are neither traveling or permanently living here, and yet here we are in Oaxaca for the summer, just over three months.  We needed to figure out a schedule, some semblance of a normal routine, otherwise we will go nuts.

We are a solid 25 minute walk from the center of town which has its benefits and pitfalls.  One benefit clearly is that we are walking a lot.  Also, we have decided to get in shape and the whole family runs in the evening ( although separated into a boys and girls team)

We are living in a real neighborhood, that lacks charm, parks or wide sidewalks. 

We buy most of our food and supplies from the women on the streets who set up daily stands on the side walks and sell Chile Rellenos, tortillas, tacos, salsa, rice and beans.  Thier industry is impressive and these sorts of small sidewalk businesses abound throughout the city and are the life blood of the local economy.  The food is hot, delicious and appreciated by many.  Catering services for the masses.

Our apartment is the 3rd floor of a complex owned and lived in by the same family.  Our airbnb host is Ezekiel, and he lives with his wife, young children, niece and mother.  Lucia, his mother is always working, constantly doing laundry or cleaning.  Thier dog, Dino, a sleek pit bull, initially scared of us, now wags his tail in shy greetings when we come home.  There is a loud parrot who will bite you and a Siamese cat who attempts to get in our room often.   There are five apartments in our small gated complex, and we all share a courtyard that is cool from the hot sun.  Our life’s soundtrack is dogs barking, children crying, bells and announcements from vendors and the daily fiesta of horns and drums.

This morning I awoke to the sounds of a full-fledged parade and fireworks, no doubt from the nearby church.  Normally I enjoy these sounds, but it was still dark and my watch said 0530!  However, one of the skills that we have acquired this year is the ability to sleep through any noise, and I was able to go back to sleep.

It is a pleasant temperature most of the time, only hot in the middle of the day.  The wind whips through our space frequently, cooling us and making it impossible for mosquitos to land.  We sleep with our doors and windows open and there are no screens.  Nature’s fan serves us well.  Our space is small but adequate, full jugs of clean water are provided and Lucia cleans our apartment every Monday.

Our weekdays are settling into a nice routine.  The kids have school Tuesday and Thursday;  math, writing and spelling in the morning and Mexican history in the afternoons.  Cork is their teacher.  Monday, Wednesday and Friday the kids and I walk to International School Oaxaca and attempt to learn the Spanish language.  While the kids play bingo and learn the names of animals, I work with Juan learning Spanish grammar, irregular verbs and pronunciation.

I also take classes on Tuesday and Thursday at another school, Ollin Tlahtoalli and again struggle to put the parts of this language together.  In addition I have a class focused on healthcare and grammar specific to a clinical situation  Por favor Senora suba a la bascula.  (Please Madame, get up on the scale) My teacher Fiorra and I practice patient and nurse dialogues.  We discuss important cultural norms and mores that I must understand to earn the trust of my patients.  My ultimate goal is work with Latina families in a clinical setting when we return to Portland.

My first time visiting Oaxaca city was in 2003.  A recent graduate from Nursing school, it was my goal to learn Spanish.  I enjoyed working with the Spanish-speaking families at Doernbecher Childrens Hospital where I worked as a CNA during nursing school and also had my senior clinical intensive.

My first patient who died was a Latino nine-year old with a terminal brain tumor.  I was a student nurse at the time.  I was an observer in an intense family meeting discussing his prognosis and code status.  The family did not speak English and the staff did not speak Spanish.  This highly emotional and very important discussion took place with the assistance of an interpreter. I wonder what was lost in translation?  About an hour after the family decided to make their son DNR he massively herniated in his brain and died.  It was a time where I felt that energies in the universe were acting beyond our sight or control.  I felt the anguish and sadness in the room but was insulated from engagement as I did not understand the language. The meaning of the words disappeared in the air.  I also could not offer any words of help.  Although, in that situation, there are no words in any language that are helpful.  I remember gently washing the body of their boy and removing the IV catheters, knowing that my every move was an important form of communication. I had this experience before having children.  I am pretty sure that I would not be able to participate in the same way now.

My experience working with Latina families at Doernbecher, coupled with my strong desire to communicate clearly led to my decision to study Spanish in Oaxaca for one month.  I attended language school and lived in a homestay.  I did learn a lot, but my loneliness drove me to seek out English speaking students, thus my language skills did not improve as much as I wanted.  After I returned, I missed the window of hire for new graduates at Doernbecher Childrens Hospital.  I got a job at the VA hospital on the Cardiac and Oncology floor.  Veterans do not speak Spanish, and thus my skills diminished over the years.

Twelve years later I returned to the Oaxacan coast with Cork, Jack and Addie and spent a wonderful two weeks in a small village called San Agustinillo on the beach.  In preparation for that trip I took Spanish language classes in Portland twice a week.  Due to a boarding mixup on our return we were delayed a day.  Aeromexico gave us four roundtrip tickets to Mexico as an apology.  Seizing this opportunity,  I was able to return to Oaxaca city twice, first with Cork the following July and then with my sister Hannah for La Dia de Los Muertos in October.  I studied Spanish in Portland for a year during that time.  However, since I was not speaking Spanish on a daily basis, I lost it.  Now I have the chance to find it again.  I believe that this may be my last chance to really learn this language.

Language is like a puzzle in my head and I receive new pieces every day that make the picture clearer.  When I am constructing a sentence the verbs and nouns descend in my mind like in a cartoon thought bubble, and plunk down to complete the sentence.  Sometimes I have to close my eyes to see the words fall into place before the phrase can leave my mouth.  Learning French at a young age wreaks havoc on my pronunciation.  I roll the “R”s towards the back of my throat instead of off my tongue in the front of my mouth.  I am an eager excited student and it feels miraculous when I am able to understand those around me.  My teachers speak to me only in Spanish.  Like the ultimate magic trick, I understand them!  I no longer translate when they speak, the meaning of the words travel directly to my brain. I am giddy with possibility.  My energy for this new skill is boundless.  My enthusiasm is slightly embarrassing.  I have even begun to dream in Spanish.

I feel that we are hitting our groove now.  This life, in this town.  It is early yet, but all signs are positive.

My parents, Courtney and Bob hailed from Oregon and spent ten days with our family exploring Oaxaca.  After eight months not seeing family, it was so nice to hang out with them and share experiences in Mexico.  Also it was lovely to mix it up a little and have conversations with those other than my immediate circle.  We stayed in a sweet Airbnb that Mom found, and the space was perfect for our family!

We covered a lot of ground.  We visited the Botanical Gardens in Oaxaca city. Oaxaca state the most ethnically  and ecologically diverse state in Mexico.

We walked numerous cobblestone streets in search of great eating spots or markets.

Dwarfed by the 2500 yr old Zapotec marvel in the sky, Monte Alban.

We visited the widest tree in the world, El Tule.  A huge cypress, the main tourist attraction in this village.  These huge trees once covered the wetlands of this valley in Oaxaca.

We visited Mitla, the Zapotec site that is 1000s of years old.  It was disheartening to see how the intricate pyramids and designs of the temples were destroyed by the Spaniards in the 1500s.  An effort to destroy not only the buildings, but a people.

Grandma and Jack sharing a moment

We visited Hierve el Agua, one of two petrified fresh water springs in the world (the other in Turkey).

We did the walking tour of the many graphic arts workshops in Oaxaca city.  It was fascinating to see the printing process and exhilarating to be apart of this artist movement.

We shared numerous meals, one of our favorites at the Cathedral Restaurant. It was nice to be spoiled! 

cocktails at Las Danzantes to celebrate late Birthdays of Mom and Bob!

Pizza on the roof of Mezzaluna

Walking through the crowded market of Tlacolula de Matamoros and fingering all the wonderful handicrafts.  My mother and I have matching orange plastic woven bags that will outlive both us, they are so durable!

I was reminded how important family love is while watching my Mom and Addie walk hand in hand.  It was wonderful to see Bob and Jack tease each other and laugh at private jokes.  In our eight months of travel our children have not see other members of their family and this is what we miss most when traveling.  It was so special to share the experience of Oaxaca and create these memories. We love and miss them already!

We stayed in a house up in the local hills above the center of town for just over a week.  Guanajuato is in the North Central part of Mexico and was built by the Spaniards in the 1500s.  It is a  valley filled with colorful pastel boxy homes nestled together in a labyrinth connected by cobblestone and ancient mortar.  Everyday we walked the 30 minutes down from our home to our school where we embarked on learning Spanish for 3.5 hours.  This time learning stretched our brains and we would arrive back home in the afternoon exhausted by satisfied.  Our time here was filled with walking, learning the language and buying roasted chicken, fresh tortillas and fruits and vegetables from the many small vendors along our path for our meals.

Our memories of Guanajuato.  Our delight while unravelling the mysteries of a language.  Looking up at the stately colonial homes that line the central part of the town.  Jacks favorite tacos for Home of the Duck.  Warm tortillas with salt…1/2 a kilo for .50 .  The children gathering the courage to order food in Spanish.  Jugo de Zanahoria every morning for Jack on our walk to school, 14 pesos.  The loud fireworks lit by the many churches to honor the Saint of the day, at all hours of the day.  The accompanying parades of bugles and drums that started at 0600.  The dog barking that would frenzy every 2 am in our neighborhood.  The bottoms of our feet black from our time walking in the city.  The delicious street food we would eat, while standing with other strangers, enjoying the nuance of flavor for 10 pesos.

I am so glad that I decided to write this blog.  Aside from being a useful way to communicate with family and friends en mass, it a journal of experiences and memories for our family.  We have been traveling for just over 8 months.  Our goal for this year was too expand and lengthen time as we felt that everything was just moving too fast.  Well, we sure have accomplished that as the time we were in Malaysia feels like years ago, not months.  The passage of time is strange and although uniform on the outside, widely variable according to one’s perspective.  I have forgotten many of the experiences and thoughts that I had in our travels and am thankful that the blog has captured them forever?!