This afternoon, I took a walk to Los Lagos, three small connected man-made lakes with a wide paved path around their perimeters. A lot of other people of all ages had the same idea I did this afternoon: I ran into people with kids; young and not-so-young people making out with sweethearts on park benches; people jogging and running and skating and riding bikes; people sitting; people walking; people just taking it easy.

In the middle of the first lake is a fountain that spurts water high in the air, as you can see in this photo. And now, look way up on the hill on the northern horizon and you can see the red dome of the Corazones Church. (Click on the photo to get a larger view.) I live just east of this church.
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Yesterday, Pery and I went to lunch at a little restaurant—a hole in the wall—aptly named El Huequito (little hole)—near the Centro de Idiomas. Well, it’s not that small, but it’s definitely crowded. At one point, there was a line—a cola (a tail) as they are called—of people waiting to get in. It’s a popular place with university students, Pery told me, because the food is cheap (comida corrida for less than $2.50 American), ample, and delicious. I ordered—forgive me—pollo Kentucky. I couldn’t resist trying El Huequito’s version of KFC. It was tasty, but as I explained to Pery, it wasn’t at all greasy enough to be like the real thing.

On the way to El Huequito, we passed the Colon Stadium, a baseball stadium, which Pery told me is also used for other sports, including futbol (soccer). She also said that that Xalapa has its own basketball team, the Halcones—and all of the starting players are from the US!
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When geraniums first in my dooryard bloomed…
This picture shows my doorway on the right and the pink geranium nearby that started to bloom a few days ago.





And here’s the red geranium that bloomed only yesterday. Lately, we’ve been getting a lot of rain at night. This same rain has been causing flooding in other parts of the state close to the gulf.
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El Grito

Everyday, new patriotic decorations are appearing in the city: Mexican flags, big and little, fly from homes, cars, and pickups; swaths of green, white, and red bunting hang from parapets and steeples; and a sign expressing Mexican pride straddles the main street of the city. Everyone is preparing for September 16, Mexican Independence Day.

My students have told me about the celebration of Mexico’s independence from Spain in 1810, and I’m eager to experience it for myself. I was advised by one of my Mexican colleagues at the Centro de Idiomas—was it Maestro Gregorio or Maestro Jose Miguel, a former Fulbright Exchange teacher to Minnesota?—to go to Guanajuato if I want to see where it all took place. But I haven’t yet ventured to other cities on a bus. I’m quite content to observe how Xalapeños celebrate this holiday.

Speaking of buses, I suspect I will be taking a bus to Mexico City for a Comexus-Fulbright meeting at the end of October. That will be an adventure—taking the bus (which I hear is a good experience if you choose the first-class and not the third-class bus service) and visiting the city of Mexico City with its 22 or 23 million people. I’ll be reuniting with the Fulbright Exchange teachers I first met in Colorado and then again in Alexandria, VA, during the Fulbright Orientation.
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Poco a poco…

I first started paying attention to this saying when I heard Margarita say it on the ride from the Veracruz airport to Xalapa on the evening I arrived. From that day to this, she’s assured me that, poco a poco, I’ll improve my Spanish, learn my way around Xalapa, figure out the Mexican money system, understand that I have to be careful when crossing streets, and in general adjust to life in Mexico. Poco a poco.

At first, I thought this was Margarita’s personal credo—or perhaps her fervent hope that I would in due time be able to manage without her so that she wouldn’t have to worry about me.

But as I listened to other Mexicans speak, I kept hearing that phrase: poco a poco. Little by little.

And after four weeks here, I’ve heard the phrase so often that I’ve concluded this frase is more than a popular saying; I’ve decided it’s a Mexican way of approaching life: Poco a poco, we learn. Poco a poco, we adjust. Poco a poco, we understand. Poco a poco, change takes place in us and in the world.

In fact, just a minute ago, I heard a TV newscaster use the phrase twice: Poco a poco, the flood waters in parts of Veracruz state are receding, and poco a poco, aid is reaching the people who are suffering from the flooding. I’m beginning to wonder if this saying is used as an expression of hope and encouragement because I haven’t noticed it being used cynically or sarcastically, as in “Poco a poco, things are bound to get worse.” But I’m not sure this observation is true. I’ll keep listening.

Poco a poco says, "Things take time; be patient; don't expect miracles." You can see my problem, my internal conflict, can't you? I come from the land of fast food, one-hour dry-cleaning, the fast lane, and instant gratification. Poco a poco doesn’t fit into this terrain. I’m reminded of the prayer/joke: “Dear Lord, give me patience, and give it to me now!” Or, in my case, as I contemplate the short year I will have here in México, “Help me learn the wisdom of poco a poco, and make it snappy!”