I love my apartment here in Xalapa. Isabel, my Fulbright Exchange partner, spent a good deal of time looking for an apartment for me that was furnished, was secure, and had two bedrooms. She did a great job!

Here's a photo of me taking a photo of my hallway, at the end of which--obviously--is a mirror. The doorways on either side of the mirror are to my bedroom on left and the guest bedroom on the right. The closer door on the right is the bathroom door. Behind me in the mirror, you can see one of my dining room chairs. I mostly use my dining room table as my desk. I haven't done any entertaining yet.

And here are some photos of my kitchen.

I haven't cooked since I arrived in Xalapa. Mostly, I've been eating the midday meal at various small restaurants near my apartment or the Centro de Idiomas that offer la comida corrida, a daily special. The comida corrida usually includes four courses: a choice of two different soups, a rice or pasta course, the entree, and a dessert. Depending on the restaurant, there might be three, four, or five different entrees of the day to choose from.

Take today as an example. I ate at the Itecate Restaurant a few blocks from my apartment. I had the sopa Mexicana, a vegetable-and-garbanzo-bean soup in a tomato broth, served with lime, of course, and chopped cilantro, onion, and jalapeño. O yum! Then I had spaghetti with butter to go with the chicken in a spicey tomato sauce, and finally, I had a jello-pudding concoction for dessert. Oh, yes, and rolls with the soup and corn tortillas with the entree, but I don't usually eat these. Typically, a fruit drink such as lemonade or horchata (a rice-based drink) comes with the meal as well.

At night, I usually reheat leftovers or take-out food (comida para llevar). I'm not talking about fast-food take-out but about slow-food take-out: soup, arroz rojo, refried beans, tamales, and other food that I can buy at a nearby restaurant and heat up for supper. For breakfast, I keep fresh fruit in the fridge and, of course, I make coffee in the morning. Isabel gave me the gift of some Bola de Oro coffee (scroll down to read about it) that I'm really enjoying.

Tonight is an exception to my no-cooking rule. I made myself a feast of the green beans and new red potatoes that I bought at the mercado on Sunday. I boiled and then seasoned them with garlic, salt, olive oil, and a little butter.

Rain. Not a pounding fury, just steady rain. That's what I woke up to this morning. From my window, I notice that the windows of the acupuncturista's office next door have been taped, and the office itself is dark.

Speaking of pounding fury...the apartment below mine is being remodeled by two guys who are making hay, so to speak, while the sun doesn't shine. I guess since they can't work outside, they've come inside to work. The hammering and pounding keep an even cadence for a few bars and then stop. Then resume.

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To ward off cabin fever, I went for a walk to a small restaurant, El Principal, about three blocks away on Altamirano Street, for la comida at around 3:00. I kept dry, except for my sandaled feet, thanks to my new umbrella. It was a miracle though because taxis whizzed by me on the narrow streets. I thought for sure I'd get drenched, but somehow I escaped.

The picture shown here--taken as I left my apartment--captures the gray sky and falling rain as seen from the second floor hallway of the apartment building. If you look between the two plants and past the wrought-iron railing, you may be able to make out the gate to the apartment building and the street beyond.

When I got to the restaurant, about four of the 10 or so tables were taken with diners eating and watching the TV perched high on one wall that was tuned to a news program describing hurricane damage in other parts of the state.

Today's menu featured a choice of soup (crema de zanahorria [carrot] soup or a sopa de pasta), arroz rojo or sphagetti, eight or nine different entrees, and pureed guayaba for dessert.

I ordered the carrot soup, arroz rojo, and queso asado. I thought I'd ordered something like a quesadilla--cheese melted between two corn tortillas--that I'm familiar with from New Mexico. But what arrived on the plate could best be described as a cheese fillet or cheese "steak." It consisted of a large, thick circle of mild white cheese that had been grilled on both sides, along with onions, and then the onions were served on top of the cheese, with refried black beans on the side. I was surprised and a little amused by this presentation--I never would have thought of frying cheese like a hamburger patty--and I expected the cheese to be bland, but the onions seasoned it nicely. All in all, it was quite tasty, along with everything that came with it.

Hurricane Dean landed on Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula this morning. Both Margarita and Pery have told me that Xalapa will probably get a lot of rain out of it, but that's all. But in the past, Pery said, the heavy rain has closed the school for a couple days.

I haven't yet bought a cell phone for local use. I was concerned at first with being able to communicate with family and friends in the U.S., and I solved that problem with Skype. In fact, with Skype, I was able to be part of a family party on Saturday night: my son Shane took his laptop and webcam to the party, and I was able to see and talk to everyone there. It was great! O what a brave new world the internet has opened to us!

And now that classes are about to begin, I need to be able to communicate with the school in the event that I have to call in sick And, of course, I want to be able to call the people I meet here.
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Laundry: I haven't dealt with this growing problem yet. I read somewhere that disruption of routines may be the real source of culture shock. In a new culture, so much of what is routine in one's life becomes anything but routine. Instead, much of what one could do without conscious thought now become tasks that require careful, conscious thought because accomplishing them entails unfamiliar approaches. That's where I am with my laundry:

I know I have to take my laundry to a lavaderia and then, after a day or so, pick it up, clean and neatly folded. Or I could find a lavanderia that has washers and dryers that I could operate myself, but the only one I've seen like that is located on the incredibly steep Sexta de Juarez street that I trek on my way to and from school. I would prefer to do my own laundry but NOT if I have to carry it along this street. I know that there's a lavanderia on Altamirano Street not far from my apartment, so that's where I've decided to take my dirty clothes. So now I need to separate my laundry into two piles: clothes that I want to wash myself and clothes that I want someone else to wash. What can I do without for a couple of days? -Not that this matters because even if I were to wash some item like a shirt or blouse by hand, it wouldn't be dry the next day--although I tell myself that in a pinch I could blow-dry or iron it dry. What do I carry my laundry in when I take it to the lavanderia? These are not momentous questions, clearly, but I haven't had to think about how to take care of my laundry in these ways before.
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Yesterday after the faculty meeting, Pery took me to a Japanese restaurant not far from the school. I had lots of questions for her about what was said at the meeting--I understood perhaps 50% of what said. I find that if I don't listen consciously and with intent to understand, spoken Spanish enters my head as mere sound, like the sound coming from a TV in the background. She filled me in on what I'd missed--I did get the gist of everything, but I tend to get the dates wrong--and we had a good meal of tasty rice and chicken.

I find myself writing a lot about food because I love food, and I love to eat. This is not a well-kept secret from those who know me or see me in the flesh. But I just realized that there is something of tradition involved in this interest as well.

I'm old enough to remember the days before the internet when loved ones and friends wrote each other letters during separations. When we were kids, we moved many times from our hometown, Park River, ND, and my mother would write to her own mother at least once a week. Likewise, when I went away to college, she would write to me often and I to her.

One of the prominent features of my mother's letters were the details of the meals she had cooked and the pastries and sweets she had baked that week. She was a wonderful cook and baker, and she took pains to balance her meals not only nutritionally but with an eye to the color of the food on the plate.

Cooking and baking were her creative outlets and sources of personal pride and high praise from those lucky enough to sit at her table--even in the lean times, of which there were many. In fact, part of her genius was her ability to take a sow's ear (some canned peas, some stale bread, for instances) and transform it into a silk purse (creamed peas on toast, one of our favorite meals). Her cinnamon rolls and pies spoiled me forever; I've almost never found them equaled since. And because cooking and baking took up much of her time as a a stay-at-home housewife with six kids, it took up space in her letters. I now see continuity between my attention to the food I encounter here and my mother's loving attention to food in her life and her letters of the past.

And speaking of food, on Sunday, Margarita, Miriam, Joaquin, and Doña Tere and I drove to La Antigua, a town near Veracruz. We stopped at a restaurant along the river called Las Delicias--delights--and there I had some delicious shrimp sautéed in butter and lots of garlic accompanied by rice and vegetables cooked and seasoned lightly. After the meal, we were treated to folk dancing from several regions of Mexico performed by six dancers in beautiful traditional dress.

Next, we took a walk across a foot bridge suspended on ropes across the wide La Antigua River. Doña Tere, who has occasional vetigo, stayed behind and waited for us. Then we toured the nearby "Casa de Cortes," not actually Cortes' home but more like an outpost. Hernan Cortes landed on what would become Veracruz in 1519. He was able to conquer the Aztec people in part because of the help given to him by Marina--Malinche.

The walls of the buldings remain pretty much intact, in part because nature has shored them up. Trees have grown up and embedded themselves in the walls. Joaquin said he doesn't think the site has been excavated by archaeologists yet, and I'm intrigued by the thought of what might be found if it were.

Observe the 16th century cannon located right behind the "Casa de Cortes" sign. in the lower photo. Frankly, I thought it was a replica, but it turns out to be authentic.

I found a lot more information about Antigua and its history on John Todd's webpage about "The Second Veracruz: Antigua, Veracruz, 1523-1600." Now I want to go back and look around more carefully and, especially, to visit "the first church in continental America."