Everything I know about Mexico (so far), I learned in combis

Gracias a Dios, my daily life now involves like 75% less travel time than it did when I was living in a far-out residential area; outside the easily-walkable area where I now live getting around is exponentially more complicado.

Even though my combi rides are not as long and painful anymore, I still rely on this (the only) system of transportation to get to the university, the supermarket, or other inconvenient places like the internet-provider store don’t evEN GET ME STARTED ON THE DISGRACE OF A COMPANY THAT IS TELMEX (sry sore subject).

I’ve mentioned these before-- they’re the white vans like what murderers drive, but in this case you’re actually supposed to ask strange men for a ride even though more likely than not you’re not sure exactly where you’ll take you and they don't even offer you candy!!

Rare solo combi ride. Luxurious or extra sketchy? Debatable.

While I fine-tune my peer-reviewed ethnography based on the patterns of behavior I've observed in combis (nerd chiste), here's a musically-themed collection of musings about my experiences:

Soundtrack for a combi ride

• You Can't Always Get What You Want

Although when riding in a sketchy van with equipped with benches there’s never really an ideal spot, it’s definitely true that not all seats are created equal.

The front seat is often occupied by some sort of VIP-- be it the driver’s girlfriend, buddy, or entire family of five-- but, when empty, it can be claimed by anyone who’d rather not deal with the crowded main cabin. The next most-desirable is the bench along the back, because you normally have a backrest and are facing the direction you’re moving (so the momentum is in your favor, which is not something to be taken lightly). The opposite seats are comfortable but slightly nauseating, and the benches along the sides often have the disadvantage of a painful ledge jutting into your spine and/or your hair flying every which way because of the open windows, leaving you with a style reminiscent of Shakira if she didn’t use any curl-styling product (just me? alrighty then..).

Since establishing these pros and cons I’ve started fighting my way to the back seat whenever possible, but if the obnoxious uniform-clad little punks middle school students pile in I end up smashed into a corner, unable to bajarme at my stop (if I could even see the stops between the mass of tweens, that is).

Sunset was so pretty I tried to snap a pick but I think I weirded out the driver...

• We’re All In This Together

My extensive experience with transporte público in Buenos Aires taught me the golden rule of co-riding: avoid eye contact or interaction of any kind with fellow passengers. By maintaining an imaginary bubble around yourself you can pretend like your personal space is not being severely encroached upon with every sharp turn.

Sin embargo, it turns out this tip does not hold true in small town Mexico. To the contrary, each person who enters the combi is expected to greet everyone with a buenos días/tardes/noches to which everyone duly responds. Instead of intensifying our glazed-over glares when the going gets rough (like a literally bumpy road, sudden stop, or insane speeding by a driver who is animatedly talking on to a compadre on speaker-phone), riders exchange amused/terrified/confused expressions despite being uncomfortably squeezed into a vehicle that is most definitely not designed to carry upwards of 20 people. Instead of conveniently not noticing that someone in the distance is wanting to board our van, passengers alert the driver to wait so that more people can subir. That is, even when packed like sardines, people tend to remain good-natured, and the brief duration of our journey together is somehow enough to create a sense of community between the most different of people.

• R-E-S-P-E-C-T

As is the norm with most city’s public transportation etiquette, it’s expected that you surrender your seat whenever a pregnant woman, elderly person (referred to as those of tercera edad, or the "third stage" of life), individual with disabilities, or mother with young children boards the combi. But in addition to this basic gesture, fellow combi-ers (combi-ans?) also eagerly extend their hands to steady anyone who might need a little extra help, and don’t hesitate to hold someone’s groceries/science project/child while they get settled. It’s often a group effort when little kids are involved, and it’s a shared responsibility to hold/pass/entertain los chamacos. The other day a woman jokingly asked if I’d take her fussy son with me when I got off, but for some reason when I obliged she rain screaming after me (jk jk about the second part, I was going for a Jesus-throwing-his-sandal-at-the-leper-thing here @Dad).

• Jesus Take The Wheel

Besides the complex pulley systems used to open the sliding doors from the front seat (like a fancy Honda Odyssey automatic door but operated by a hand and a rope, basically the same thing right?!), many combi drivers also trick out their vehicles’ interiors with speaker systems or express-yoself signage. This may come in the form of sassy messages (e.g. something loosely translated as “If you don’t want to pay your children’s passage, leave them at home and we’ll all be happier” or even sometimes swatsikas??), but more often than not there is some sort of religious image or phrase displayed above the windshield. The prominent portraits of Christ on the cross are evidence of the strong Catholic culture that pervades everyday life here, with the convenient side effect of reminding me to pray for my safety because none of us are wearing seat belts and the locals drive like maniacs…

O sea, just in case you were picturing my Mexican experience as a glamorous vacay, I wanted to provide you with a more accurate (and much more comical) mental image of me, wedged between an old lady and teen boy in a kidnapper van, all of us sweaty and wind-blown but also not (too) bothered. Hope this post did the trick.

Prismas, puentes y pastes

Huasca de Ocampo

If my most recent Insta (which has crushed my personal record for likes, but who's counting?!) left you with questions such as, "What exactly was Malissa up to last weekend?" "Is she sporty/outdoorsy now??" "Does she actually have friends???" then you're in the right place. Continue reading for all the respuestas you could possibly want and more.

On Friday morning I "moved" (read: stuffed my two gigantic and now-falling-apart suitcases into a taxi and hauled them up several flights of stairs to my new apartment in all of 45 minutes), before setting off for a weekend of travels in the state of Hidalgo with a few other Fulbrighters (yes, actual amigos!).

We started off in the capital of Pachuca, where another ETA lives, for a few hours of wandering around markets and non-stop eating. And, as my Facebook album shows, we also took advantage of a probably way too many group photo ops.

Some highlights of the weekend:

• Our airbnb was a family home (cabin? lodge?) on the outskirts of the pueblo mágico Huasca de Ocampo. Pleasant surprises during our stay included the bonfire/s'mores the señora set up for us in the backyard, ideal water pressure in a spacious shower, and the fact that everyone in town knew our hosts so one night a random guy (who turned out to be a childhood friend of the guy we were staying with) gave us a ride back in his pickup truck because there were no taxis!

I'm sure no one knew we were tourists!!

• Barbacoa for breakfast. Yep. Plus several debates about what animal barbacoa comes from (I have since verified-- thanks, Google-- that Chipotle does NOT serve goat meat). 
• My first michelada. Though I'm not generally a fan of cerveza, I did enjoy this beer with lime juice and chile! I think my burning lips distracted me from the taste of the beer itself, which is a definite win in my book.

• Marveling at the prismas basálticos but remaining completely baffled by the science behind their formation. They're the best sort of natural landmark in that visitors don't have to venture too far beyond the park gates to get up close and personal with the scenery (read: Malissa is not in fact outdoorsy/sporty).

• A spontaneous motorboat ride across the lake. It was all fun and games until we rapidly approached a low bridge-- all of us certain our guide would make a quick turn at the last minute-- and, with only seconds to spare, he shouted at us to get down. We all hit the floor of the boat in shock, and thankfully no one was decapitated. But what if we hadn't understood his Spanish instructions or didn't have time to duck?! Just sayin.

Pre-bridge incident, as you can tell from our not-yet-traumatized expressions

• Leaving the prismas we commissioned a sweet combi driver to transport us to our next destination, but there was a traffic jam and we ended up being completely stopped on a mountainous road for several hours before we finally gave in and turned around. (Not sure this counts as a "highlight" of the weekend, but it did involve much group bonding over a rousing game of Two Truths & a Lie...)
• PASTES. Oh man. They're like my beloved empanadas but a little bigger and oh so flaky and amazing. Between the spicy beef and potato, Hawaiian, blueberry with cheese, and apple varieties I'd say I got a pretty good sampling of this local delicacy. 

Street dog coming for my paste, aw heck no

• Lucking out *sarcasmo* with a free preview of the recorrido nocturno (a sort of haunted night tour they were heavily promoting all day)!! On our way back to our lodging the second night, I noticed a masked figure lurking behind a tree. Before I could fully compute this demon's presence I was already mid-bloodcurdling scream and had ruined the scary surprise for all those voluntarily participating in the event...
• Meeting up with a Peace Corps volunteer who's working at a trout hatchery in the nearby community of El Zembo. It's literally in the middle of nowhere and home to just 27 families (I've never felt so grateful for my little-but-not-too-little Atlixco), so everyone gets around by hitching rides from each other. This means some very generous locals had the pleasure of hauling around a bunch of gringos and our embarrassing excess of luggage.

Katie's photo really sums it up

• An afternoon in Disney-World-esque Real de Monte: artisanal markets where cheap silver jewelry abounds and incr(edible) treats are sold on every corner. 

• After such a busy weekend, a little bus napping was just what I needed. Plus, they showed (a strangely dubbed over version of) McFarland USA on the overhead screens! I grabbed some surprisingly delicious tostadas at the bus terminal in Puebla before the last leg of the journey home. Yes, home! There's nothing like going away on a trip and having somewhere you're excited to return to at the end. Coming soon: more on my humble abode.

Atlixcayotl

Before I could even correctly say the name of my host city (still unclear whether it's best to fully pronounce the x, a la "at-leex-co,"or go with the more suave "at-lease-co"), I was introduced to this even more challenging tongue twister. Huey Atlixcayotl is the biggest local cultural event of the year, attracting people from throughout the state and beyond to el cerro de San Miguel to watch a series of traditional dances that represent the surrounding pueblos. That's about where my comprehension of this festival ends, although I did learn that, weirdly enough, it was started in the sixties by an American anthropologist who was passionate about preserving indigenous customs. So it looks like the pressure's on for me, Atlixco's resident estadounidense, to leave a lasting legacy (if being a regular at the corner coffee shop counts I've already got this in the bag).

After hours of dancing it was time for the voladores, who carried out the most impressive/insane/nausea-inducing feat I've ever witnessed in my life. They ascended a massive pole (which hardly appeared strong enough to bear their collective weight) without any sort of harness, then one of them balanced on top and demonstrated several heart-stopping hops, before the others began their flying stunt. Un. Real.

Apart from enjoying the amazing spectacle in and of itself, I was thrilled to have two fellow Fulbrighters from Puebla join me for the festivities. Not only did their visit give me permission to go into full-on tourist-mode for a day, but their fascination with Atlixco helped me see my city with new eyes! Sappy but cierto.