Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Mi Primer Viaje a la EFI

Como parte de mi trabajo este año, tengo suerte de viajar con el Centro de Estudios Ecuménicos (CEE). El CEE acompaña procesos comunitarios, redes territoriales y redes temáticas  en los estados de Guerrero, Coahuila, Oaxaca, Puebla y Ciudad de México.

Yo colaboro en los procesos de redes territoriales de Oaxaca y redes temáticas en Puebla. El fin de semana pasado, viajé con Ana Paula, Daniel y Abraham compañeros del CEE para participar en una reunión de la Escuela de Formación Integral (la EFI). La EFI, como es llamada, es un espacio para hombres, mujeres y jóvenes de 5 parroquias de la costa mixteca de Oaxaca. El CEE colabora en conjunto con el Grupo de Estudios Ambientales (GEA) y las parroquia católicas para fortalecer la acción comunitaria.

La ofrenda de la EFI, que es un simbolo de lo que nos une.


Lxs lideres y miembrxs de la EFI.  

La EFI es un espacio donde  lxs participantes tienen la oportunidad de combinar la teología, liturgia católica con un conocimiento de temas medioambientales y humanitarias, como la reducción de la polución, el peligro de los megaproyectos, fortalecer sus prácticas agrícolas, los derechos  indígenas , y la sostenibilidad.

La escuela tiene una reunión cada mes, y fue fundada en 2015, con este año marcando la segunda generación. La nueva generación toma clases en tres temas, y cada clase dura tres meses. La clase ¨Liturgia¨ está enseñada por sacerdotes de la parroquia, la clase ¨Alimentando la Tierra¨ es compartida por GEA, y ¨Lecturas Populares de la Biblia¨ es facilitada por el equipo CEE. La segunda generación toma tres clases nuevas.: ¨Liturgia II¨, ¨Plagas y Enfermedades¨, y ¨Justicia Social¨, que está enseñada por lxs compañerxs del CEE.

El viaje empezó cuando nos subimos al carro que es pequeño y nos fuimos de la ciudad.Cuando nos fuimos de la ciudad, empezamos a ver montañas bellísimas y cañones enormes.  Después de estar en la ciudad por un mes, yo estaba muy emocionada estar afuera de la ciudad, respirar aire fresco, y ver más árboles. Aunque me gusta la vida  en la ciudad y la variedad de cosas hay que hacer, prefiero estar en la naturaleza. Después de 9 horas y 500 kilómetros, descansamos por la noche, antes de salir muy temprano por la madrugada al pueblo pequeñito donde esta la EFI. Llegamos al lugar, que fue un patio grande y abierto con un techo muy alto que me parecía más a un hangar de aviones.

La temperatura había subido mucho desde cuando nos fuimos de CDMX, y con 32 grados y mucha humedad, me sentía en Carolina del Norte, mi hogar, otra vez. La diferencia entre mi altura y la altura de la mayoría de personas allí fue muy grande. Ana Paula me dijo que cuando yo entré, muchas abuelitas le dijeron a ella ¨Pero, la norteamericana es muy alta!¨. Después de empezar con una oración, lxs 60 participantes fueron a sus propias clases, con 9 personas en la clase de Justicia Social.


Escuchando a Daniel. 


La clase de Justicia Social. 

Fue una experiencia inolvidable estar en una parte más rural de México, donde vimos muchas personas montando caballos al lado de la carretera, patos, gallos, y pollos enfrente de las casas, y donde tuvimos que parar por un rebaño de vacas.

Ayudé con la clase de Justicia Social, que fue enseñado por mi compañero de trabajo Daniel. En el taller,escuché a Daniel que habló con el grupo sobre las intersecciones de la justicia social y el ambientalismo, con ejemplos sobre la contaminación y la polución del agua. Discutimos la intercesión del cuidado al medioambiente y la fe, y como estamos llamadxs a cuidar a la creación de Dios. También, hay una oportunidad nueva para miembrxs de la segunda generación, para que puedan entrenar para ser facilitadores.

Lxs nuevxs facilitadores. 


La discusión continuó con una examinación de los Derechos Humanos Internacionales, y como las comunidades pueden trabajar juntas a proteger esos derechos y llamar la atención del gobierno cuando el gobierno no protege los derechos humanos de los pueblos. Miembrxs del grupo hablaron de instancias de violaciones de los derechos humanos de mujeres, miembrxs de la comunidad LGBTQI, grupos indígenas, y comunidades pobres.

Tuve la oportunidad en el taller de compartir mi experiencia personal en relación a las temas medioambientales en los EEUU. Cuando Ana Paula me pidió dar una descripción breve de los problemas medioambientales en los EEUU, estaba muy abrumada y no sabía cómo describir un problema tan complejo y de un país tan grande en poco tiempo. Ofrecí unas estadísticas para dar un contexto del impacto medioambiental de los EEUU, por ejemplo, que  EEUU es el segundo del mundo en usar grandes cantidades de la electricidad y contribuir a los gases de invernadero del mundo. Fue un momento muy impactante de compartir información y comprensión. Representar a mi país es una responsabilidad enorme, y creo que necesitamos discutir más los temas medioambientales, porque todxs nosotrxs habitamos este planeta, independientemente de nuestra nacionalidad.

Hablando sobre mis experiencias en los EEUU. 

Al final del taller, disfrutamos la comida, hicimos nuestras despedidas, y regresamos a CDMX (pero después de disfrutar la playa por un ratito el domingo por la mañana). Con 20 horas en tres días en un coche muy pequeño, fue un viaje muy largo. Pero, fue un viaje lleno con conversación, risa, y compañerismo con el equipo CEE y lxs miembrxs de la EFI. Me parecía muy poderoso tener el espacio para discutir los derechos humanos, el cuidado del medioambiente, y para fomentar el empoderamiento de las comunidades. Es un privilegio ver otra parte y otro contexto del país, y tengo muchas ganas de continuar trabajando y aprendiendo con la EFI.


El grupo creando el Arbol de Esperanza, una actividad en nuestro taller.




Monday, October 24, 2016

¨Pero, que bonita eres!¨

It was during my first couple of days in the city, when Nef and I went to meet Dani after he finished up at work. We walked into his pawn shop, and I was greeted exuberantly by many of his coworkers, who asked me who I was, why I was here, etc...One coworker was particularly excited, and also asked me where I was from. When I told her I was from los Estados Unidos, she then asked me if I spoke English, which was met with raucous laughter. As we left the shop with Dani, I mentioned how friendly and excited all of his co-workers had been to meet me. ¨Yes¨, he responded, ¨but people here are generally excited to meet foreigners, especially if they are tall, white, blonde, blue-eyed women. They probably would not have been excited if you had had darker hair or eyes, or had been shorter or rounder¨. There is even a word for this phenomenon-malinchista, which describes someone who prefers blonde, blue-eyed people. This word originated with the arrival of the Spanish, and comes from the name of an indigenous woman who translated for Cortes. Hernán Cortes was reported to be blonde and blue eyed, and some indigenous populations saw him and his men as gods. Thus, it was extremely early on in my time here in CDMX that I started to take note of the immense privilege I carry here in Mexico, for a variety of reasons, but specifically because of my appearance.

   Because the truth is, I stand out in Mexico. A lot. Whereas most women here tend to be shorter, rounder, darker skinned, and have dark hair and eyes, I am 5-7 inches taller than the average person, have hair that is considered extremely blonde by Mexican standards, blue eyes, and a leaner frame. This difference is apparent in public, crowded places, such as public transportation. It has resulted in me getting strange looks, questions from small children about why I have blue eyes, and more attention from men than I have ever received. ¨Oye, guapa, que bonita eres¨. ¨Cuidate mucho, bonita¨. ¨Hola señorita, eres muy bonita, no?¨ ¨Oye, guapa, ven aca, porque no te sonrie?¨ (My personal favorite was ¨Oye, bonita, que guapa eres, eres bailarina?¨. If he ever saw me attempt to dance ballet, he would quickly realize the answer to that question.) This not to say that all men in Mexico City are like this-I work, live, and worship with fantastic men who are some of my biggest supporters and advocates. But it is to recognize that there is definitely a strong presence of machismo in Mexico, and piropos, or catcalls, are all too common.


Some advertisements I see around my workplace. 
 
  I receive these piropos with a mix of emotions. I mostly feel uncomfortable being noticed and commented on by a complete stranger (although the piropos I have received are mostly harmless, and I have never felt physically unsafe). If I'm being honest, sometimes part of me feels flattered. But that same part then wants to challenge the cultural belief that the primary function of women is to appease men, and question why I feel I should find my affirmation through the approval of men. Mexico City is a place that values appearance, and women are expected to be extremely put together. My Spanish teacher during our orientation spoke at length about this. She said that in her experience, women often receive negative comments if they go out with hair undone and no makeup, and that if a woman's husband wants her to wear her hair long, then the expectation is that she wear it long. I do not possess great talent in the areas of fashion and makeup. On the metro, surrounded by gorgeous women with dark, immaculately done hairstyles and flaming red lipsticks, I sometimes feel inferior, that I am not living up to the expectations of how I am to present myself. However, because of the color of my skin, hair, and eyes, I can walk through the metro sweaty, disheveled, and without makeup, and receive far more attention from men than the most beautifully dressed Mexican woman.   

    The part that makes me most uncomfortable is the knowledge that this attention is primarily the result of racist, sexist systems that privilege whiteness, thinness, ableism, cisgenderism, heterosexuality, Aryan features, and traditional expressions of femininity. Super-model Cameron Russell speaks eloquently about the privileges she is afforded solely by ¨having won a genetic lottery¨ in a world that equivalates beauty with being white, tall, thin, and blonde. And in an increasingly globalized world, these Western beauty standards are spreading across the globe, with sometime devastating effects. In the Viti Levu island of Fiji, for example, rates of eating disorders rose after the arrival of television and US TV shows.This Western influence is extremely prevalent in Mexico City, particularly in the media. Although most people here do not look like me, most of the women in the magazines, billboards, and metro ads look like me. The most popular movies are dubbed American movies, starring actresses who look like me, some of the most popular songs are sung by singers who look like me, and the most popular TV shows star actresses who-you guessed it-look like me. This whitewashed media is so ubiquitous that a México City professor, who gave us a lecture on the history of México during our orientation, commented that if you only saw the media, you would think that Mexico is a country of only white people. 


    This is not to say that I dislike or am ashamed of my appearance. I inherited my father´s eyes and my grandmother´s long, skinny feet. My hair bears blonde streaks that are remnants of happy hours passed in the summer sun. I love it with I show people pictures of my family and they comment about how much we resemble each other. I am grateful to have a healthy body that allows me to salsa dance, hug, reach tall things for my host dads, sprint to catch the metro, and enjoy life. As someone who struggled with disordered eating, weight, body image, and my relationship to food throughout middle school, I am extremely happy to now have a much healthier relationship with my body. I am now able to eat delicious enchiladas smothered in cream and cheese without thinking about calories, carbs, or anything else. As I have gotten older, I have become more critical of the media. I recognize that the beauty industry cares about profit, not self esteem, and that beauty standards are extremely subjective and fluid. The beauty and fashion industries would tell women that being beautiful means having purple horns growing out of our heads, if they knew they could sell us expensive surgery to give us purple horns.

    However, it is to say that these ridiculous, unattainable Western beauty standards, (such as the fact that ¨The average American woman is 5’4″ tall, and weighs 166 lbs...the average model is 5’10” tall and weighs only 107 lbs.¨), are results of deeply rooted systems of oppression, and are affecting how women and girls around the world see themselves. And it is to say that I receive many privileges from these systems, particularly through my whiteness, both in the United States, and especially here in Mexico. These are systems of privilege and oppression that result in me receiving better service in restaurants and stores, being greeted with more excitement and enthusiasm, and, most likely, having a much easier time in customs upon our border retreat, long before I take out my passport. It is important that we, particularly as estadounidenses, are critical of the representations of beauty in our media that is so widely seen around the world, and that we work to include a greater variety of experiences and voices.
    
And I think what saddens me most, is how this Western, imported, narrow ideal of beauty misses out on so much of the diverse beauty in this country. Although I have only been here for a few months, I have been lucky enough to travel to different parts of the country, where I have met beautiful, loving people of every shape, size, and color. Here in CDMX, I am surrounded by incredible people in my host community, who exude joy and energy, and who have embraced me with open arms. They come in all shades, backgrounds, and body types, and they are the light of my experience here. They welcome me into their homes, their worship spaces, their work, and their lives, with no judgement of my thick accent or grammatical errors. Through them, I see how God is working, both in this country and in my life.

And that, I think, is the most beautiful thing of all.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

Mi Primer Viaje: My First Work Trip to la EFI

     As part my work this year, I am fortunate enough to be able to travel with el Centro de Estudios Ecuménicos (CEE). CEE works with a variety of states throughout Mexico, including Guerrero and Chihuahua, but I travel to their projects in the states of Oaxaca (on the southwestern coast of Mexico) and Puebla (southeast of CDMX). This past weekend, I traveled with Ana Paula (my direct supervisor), and two other coworkers to the coast of the state of Oaxaca, to participate in a meeting of la Escuela de Formación Integral (la EFI). La EFI, as the people at the CEE call it, is collaboration between the CEE, an environmental activist group called GEA, and local catholic churches to give parishioners the opportunity to combine Catholic theology and liturgy with an understanding of environmental and humanitarian issues, such as reduction of pollution, the danger of mega-projects such as fracking and hydraulic dams, safer farming practices, indigenous rights, and sustainability. The school meets once a month, and began in 2015, with this year marking the second class. The new class rotates through three topics, with each topic lasting three months: ¨Liturgy¨, which is taught by priests from the local church, ¨Nourishing the Earth¨, which is taught by GEA, and ¨Popular Bible Readings¨, which is taught by Ana Paula. The second-year class rotates through three new classes: ¨Liturgy II¨, ¨Pests and Illnesses¨, and ¨¨Social Justice¨, which is also taught by the CEE. There is also a unique opportunity for members of the second-year class to train to be facilitators, in order to lead future sessions on their own. This past weekend, I assisted with the Social Justice class, which was led by my coworker Daniel. 
The leader and members of la EFI. 
The centerpiece at la EFI, representing the natural resources 
that we are called to protect, 
and the inter-connectedness of life. 


    Our trip began as the four of us crammed into a tight little Jeta and made surprisingly good time leaving the city. After more than a month of being in the city, I was excited to get out of the hustle and bustle, get some fresh air, and see some more trees. Although I enjoy the pace of city life and the variety of things to do, I am not a city-slicker at heart, and prefer to be in nature. As we hit the highways, we sped past gorgeous mountains and gaping canyons, before the landscape began to flatten as we neared the coast. It was quite the experience to be in a more rural part of Mexico, where we saw several people riding on horseback alongside the two-land highway, a variety of ducks, roosters, and chickens roaming people´s yards, and even had to stop to wait for an unaccompanied herd of cows to cross the road.

      After 9 hours and 300 miles, we rested for the night, before blasting off at dawn the next morning to the teeny tiny pueblo that hosts la EFI. We arrive at the venue, which was a large, open air patio with a high, vaulted ceiling that looked similar to an aircraft hangar. The temperature had quickly risen as we had descended from high-altitude CDMX, and at a temperature of 90 degrees with humidity to spare, part of me felt that I was back in NC. As we met the pastors and attendees, I was struck by the height difference, which, already great in CDMX, was even greater in Oaxaca. (Ana Paula told me that when I walked in, several abuelitas exclaimed ¨She´s so tall!) After opening in prayer, the 60 or so participants went to their respective classes, with about 9 people in the social justice class. 

    I listened as Daniel led the group members through discussions of the intersections of social justice and environmentalism, specifically citing instances of contamination and water pollution. We discussed the intersection of environmental stewardship and faith, and how we are called to take good care of God´s creation. The discussion continued with a intensive look at the International Declaration of Human Rights, and how communities can work to protect those rights, and call out the government when it fails to do so. Group members cited specific instances of human rights violations in Mexico against women, members of the LGBTQI community, indigenous groups, and impoverished communities.
Daniel leading the workshop on social justice. 
The group in discussion of environmental stewardship and human rights. 
  
     I had the unique opportunity during the workshop to share my personal experience in relation to environmental issues in the US. When Ana Paula asked me to give a brief description of environmental issues in the US, I was overwhelmed as how to describe such a complex issue in an enormous country in such little time. I focused on a few statistics that offered some context for the US´s environmental impact in the world, such as the fact that the US is the second largest consumer of electricity in the world and the second greatest contributor of greenhouse gases. I have encountered a stereotype in Mexico that US citizens are wasteful people, who do not think about how they spend their money or consume natural resources. While that is certainly not true for every person from the US, it was sobering to describe the disproportionate amount of resources that the United States uses in proportion to it´s population. However, it was impactful moment for me of greater international understanding and sharing of information. To be able to represent my country is a great privilege and responsibility, and I believe that environmental issues are in desperate need of greater international dialogue, as we all inhabit this one planet, regardless of our nationality. 
Facilitators-in-traning leading an activity. 

Sharing some of my experience with US environmental issues. 

     As the workshop wrapped up for the day, we enjoyed a late lunch, said our goodbyes, and hit the road back to Mexico City (although not before enjoying the beach for a few hours on Sunday morning). With a total of 20 hours of driving in a cramped car in three days, it was a long and tiring trip. However, it was also a trip filled with conversation, laughter, and fellowship with my fellow coworkers, and the members of la EFI. I was struck by the power of having a space to openly discuss issues of human rights and environmental stewardship, and to foster the empowerment of people and their communities. The opportunity to see another part of the country and a context very different from my life in CDMX is a privilege, and I look forward to continuing to get to know and work with the people of la EFI.
The group participating in an activity called ¨The Tree of Hope¨. 
Group members were invited to list the challenges facing their 
community, as well as the strengths and resources, 
before adding their handprint as a sign of solidarity. 



To learn more about the CEE and it´s various projects, check out this page! http://estudiosecumenicos.org.mx/our-intervention/ 

   

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

One Step at a Time...Lessons in Salsa Dancing


     ¨¿Te gusta bailar?¨  ¨Do you like to dance?¨ I was sitting at lunch with my co-workers from CEE, listening to their stores of projects, meetings, and their upcoming plans for the week.  One of my co-workers, Clemm, who is from France, but has lived in CDMX for many years and speaks fluent English, French, and Spanish, was discussing her plans to go to a well-known salsa bar with several other friends later that night. I pondered my answer before responding to her question, and not just because I wanted to make sure I was conjugating the verbs correctly. I love music and enjoy dancing, but I would never classify myself as a dancer-I have long arms and legs, which tend to flail about when I dance, and as I am about 5-7 inches taller than the average man here in Mexico. I was sure this lankiness would only be all the more noticeable. However, I had no other plans for the night, and wanted to try and get to know my co-workers better, so I agreed to go.

     Later that night, Clemm and I met up with a group of her friends at La Hija de los Apaches,  one of the well-known salsa bars in the city. We walked in and I was immediately hit by a wall of body heat from the dozens of people crammed inside. The fans whirred above in noble effort, but I was immediately drenched in sweat within 5 minutes. Our group grabbed a table, and I sat and watched as dozens of beautiful people spun to the beat of the live band as if they had been doing it their entire lives (which they probably had). All of the women were beautifully dressed, with flaming red lips and not a hair out of place while they gracefully twisted and twirled. Meanwhile, I was furiously wiping sweat from my face with napkins and had thrown my hair up into a very frizzy, messy bun. (Not even 22 years of North Carolina summers had prepared me for this). Our group was made up of a mix of Mexicans and estadounidenses, many of whom were participating in SALT, a program that is effectively the Mennonite version of YAGM. I was extremely impressed to see that all of the men there were incredibly good dancers, and were very comfortable with asking people to dance. The first man who asked me to dance was about 70 years old and a full foot shorter than me. I warned him that I had never danced salsa before, and although he was extremely nice about it, my faced burned as everyone around us openly laughed at this awkward, gangly güera, dancing with a shorter, older Mexican man.

     I returned back to my seat, my face red as un tomate, determined that I was a disgrace to the art of salsa dancing. However, our group included some extremely nice friends of Clemm who had been dancing their entire lives. They took me under their (taller than me!) wings and walked me through the steps. As the night went on, 14 years of musical training kicked it, and I found myself becoming more and more comfortable with the rhythm and steps. Or maybe it was just the beer. Regardless, as the music and dancers shook the room, and I ate peanuts salted with salt and chili, surrounded by people hailing from multiple nationalities and languages, I had a flashing moment where I thought ¨Maybe I can actually do this.¨ Moving somewhere new and being ¨the new guy¨ is difficult in any context. My coworkers had taken the initiative to personally invite me into their group, and their friends welcomed me with open arms- thick US accent, grammatical errors, and all. Despite any linguistic and cultural barriers, we found community in a shared love of live music, dancing, and a good time.

    Since that night, I have had the joy of salsa dancing with my host dads (who are both incredible dancers), fellow YAGM volunteers, co-workers, and extended family. Salsa dancing is part of everyday life here-everyone knows how to do it, and at any sort of gathering, it is probable that dancing will break out. At a recent birthday party for my host great-aunt, salsa, cumbia, norteña, and banda music began to play. As my host cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents twirled, people were surprised to hear that my family and I never dance at our family gatherings in the US. My experiences dancing here have been some of the happiest moments of my first month in Mexico, and, I believe, serve as a metaphor of my overall experience. Although I hardly fully ever know what I´m doing, both in dancing and in every day life, I am welcomed into open arms by my friends, family and community here who guide me through the twists and turns of my life here in Mexico...one step at a time.


The crowd at La Hija de los Apaches 

Thursday, October 6, 2016

Combis, Microbuses, and Metro...Getting Around Mexico City

Hola a todxs,

      I hope y'all are well and enjoying the beginning of autumn, wherever you may be. I write this almost a full month (!) at my site placement, and seeing as how navigating public transportation is a big part of my daily life here in the city, I thought I would share with y'all what I have learned so far about getting around CDMX. The public transportation system in the city is extremely complex and multi-layered, so I am going to start at the micro-level, and work my way up.

Combis/Microbuses 

       A combi is effectively a small bus about the size of a minivan that serves to pick up people from their neighborhoods, and take them to different spots around the neighborhood, often to the nearest metro station. These are most often bright green, and have a sign in the front window indicating the metro stops they go to, and the streets they go by. They come extremely frequently, and during rush hour, you never have to wait more than 5 minutes for another combi to come by. Combis can hold 8-10 people each, and the atmosphere is extremely congenial: whenever someone boards the combi, they greet everyone with a buenos dias/buenas tardes/buenas noches, and when they leave they wish everyone que les vaya bien or que tengan bonito dia. Each combi ride costs between 4-5.5 pesos (about 20 cents), depending on how far you are going, and depending on where you sit in the combi, you may be asked by other riders to pass up the pesos to the driver, who is miraculously able to watch the road, drive, and make change, often at the same time. One never knows who one will meet in a combi-just the other day, two older gentlemen were in my combi, and I overheard them talking about the United States. They gave me a questioning look, and I confirmed that I was indeed from the U.S. The older of the two told me he had assumed I was from the U.S. given my height, skin color, hair color, and eye color. He then began to loudly sing a song about how beautiful my eyes were, at which point the color of my eyes was further brought out by the bright red flush that spread across my face, much to the delight of the fellow passengers. However, I knew he meant no harm, and this congenial teasing between strangers has made my life (and combi rides) all the more interesting in CDMX. 


   A microbus is effectively a larger version of a combi, more similar to 15-passenger vans, that often take people from metro stops back to the neighborhoods, and also cost 4 pesos. I generally use these when I am coming home and it is dark, raining, or I just don't feel like walking. Although the atmosphere is less chatty on microbuses than on combis, people are still willing to help you out, especially if one day you happen to take a microbus in the exact opposite direction of where you need to go. Theoretically, of course. 


Buses
     There is an extremely large network of city buses within Mexico City, which cost 5 pesos (about 25 cents) and are clean and very comfortable. However, I am generally a solid 5-7 inches taller than the average person here, and thus, sometimes have difficulty finding seats where my knees don't knock up against the seat in front of me. There are no set stops for the buses, and drivers stop for people when they hail the bus from the side of the street. Often, musicians board buses to perform in exchange for a few pesos, and my fellow passengers I have been serenaded by guitarists, singers, and even free style rappers on the bus. 


Metrobus
     The metrobus is a relatively new addition to the city, opening in 2005 and has several lines that often connect with metro stops. As of 2013, it transported 900,000 passengers daily. It is effectively an above ground metro, in that it drives in lanes solely devoted to the metrobus and comes every few minutes. It costs 6 pesos (about 30 cents) per ride with unlimited transfers, and the first cars are reserved for women, children, the elderly, and people with disabilities. During rush hour, the buses and platforms can become impossibly crowded, with people surging forward to try and board the few spaces available as people get off the bus. Although it has it's own lane, the metrobus still has to stop at intersections for traffic, so I often find it quicker to simply walk to the nearest metro stop. However, this is a quick and easy way to get around the city. 


Metro 
      The metro system in CDMX is one of the biggest in the world, and transports 4 million people every day. It is clean, efficient, and cheap, with each ride costing 5 pesos (20 cents) with unlimited transfers. The first two cars are reserved for women, children, the elderly, and people with disabilities, but don't let the abuelitas fool you-during rush hour, as the train emerges from the tunnel like a giant orange snake, the crowds surge forward and push and push and push to try and get into the car. As our country coordinator put it, if aggressive is not your personality, you have to make it your personality on the CDMX rush hour metro. The metro often reminds me of a clown car, with a seemingly impossible number of people inside. Needless to say, you get extremely up close and personal with the people around you. Fans whir to try and fight the body heat of so many people in such a small space, and as I am generally the tallest person in the women's car, I can catch a breeze of air from the open windows as the train shoots down the tracks. During less crowded times, vendors often board the metro, selling everything from gum, candy, flowers, chocolate, headphones, coat hangers, and packs of coffee. In the metro stations, as you move with the surge of people from one line to the other, you pass several shops and stands selling clothes, DVDs, food, toiletries, luggage, purses, cellphones and anything else you can imagine. If you find yourself in need of something in CDMX, keep your eyes open during your commute, and you will probably be able to find it. The metro is generally my favorite way to get around, as it is extremely fast, avoids the ever-present traffic, and come every few minutes. However, if you throw in some rain or a major event/concert, a system that is already best descried as organized chaos can grind to a halt. 

     My commute is about an hour, which is relatively short by CDMX standards-many people who live outside the city have commutes upwards of three hours. Although it is the time of day when I am literally surrounded by dozens of people, it is also good "alone time"-a chance to relax and process the day, I am also struck by the kindness of strangers-besides the metrobus and metro, there are no set maps for public transportation, so it requires a lot of asking people for directions. Although people are generally first confused by my heavily accented Spanish, they are helpful and kind in getting me where I need to go.

     Thank you for all your messages, love, and support. Thanks to the generosity of my family, friends, home congregation, and many other donors, I am fully funded (!), but if you are interested in contributing to the growth and availability of the YAGM program for future volunteers, please feel free to donate on my personal page at http://support.elca.org/goto/MadisonBurke. As always, please feel free to contact me via Facebook or email.

Abrazos fuertes,

Maddie